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The Field of Blood: Violence in Congress and the Road to Civil War
In The Field of Blood, the historian Joanne B. Freeman offers a new and dramatically rendered portrait of American politics in its rowdiest years. Drawing on an extraordinary range of sources, she shows that today's hyperpolarized environment cannot compare with the turbulent atmosphere of the decades before the Civil War, when the U.S. Congress itself was rife with conflict. Legislative sessions were routinely punctuated by mortal threats, canings, flipped desks, and all-out slug-fests. Congressmen drew pistols and waved bowie knives at rivals. One representative even killed another in a duel. Many were bullied in an attempt to intimidate them into compliance or silence, particularly on the issue of slavery.
These fights didn't happen in a vacuum. Freeman's accounts of fistfights and threats tell a larger story of how bullying, brawling, and the press - and the powerful emotions they elicited - raised tensions between North and South and fueled the coming of the war. In the process, she brings the antebellum Congress to life, revealing its rough realities - the feel, sense, and sound of it - as well as its nation-shaping import. Funny, tragic, and rivetingly told, The Field of Blood offers a front-row view of congressional mayhem and sheds new light on the careers of luminaries such as John Quincy Adams and Thomas Hart Benton, as well as introducing a host of lesser-known but no less fascinating characters. We see slaveholders silence Northerners with threats and violence. We learn how newspapers promoted conspiracy theories that helped polarize the nation. And we witness an entire legislative chamber erupt into a massive fist-throwing, spittoon-tossing battle royal. By 1860, armed congressmen, some carrying pistols sent by their constituents, fully expected bloody combat in the House. In effect, the first battles of the Civil War were fought in Congress itself.
The Field of Blood demonstrates how a country can come apart as conflicts over personal honor, party loyalty, and moral principle combine and escalate. The result is a fresh understanding of the workings of American democracy and the bonds of Union on the eve of their greatest peril.
These fights didn't happen in a vacuum. Freeman's accounts of fistfights and threats tell a larger story of how bullying, brawling, and the press - and the powerful emotions they elicited - raised tensions between North and South and fueled the coming of the war. In the process, she brings the antebellum Congress to life, revealing its rough realities - the feel, sense, and sound of it - as well as its nation-shaping import. Funny, tragic, and rivetingly told, The Field of Blood offers a front-row view of congressional mayhem and sheds new light on the careers of luminaries such as John Quincy Adams and Thomas Hart Benton, as well as introducing a host of lesser-known but no less fascinating characters. We see slaveholders silence Northerners with threats and violence. We learn how newspapers promoted conspiracy theories that helped polarize the nation. And we witness an entire legislative chamber erupt into a massive fist-throwing, spittoon-tossing battle royal. By 1860, armed congressmen, some carrying pistols sent by their constituents, fully expected bloody combat in the House. In effect, the first battles of the Civil War were fought in Congress itself.
The Field of Blood demonstrates how a country can come apart as conflicts over personal honor, party loyalty, and moral principle combine and escalate. The result is a fresh understanding of the workings of American democracy and the bonds of Union on the eve of their greatest peril.
450 pages, Hardcover
First published September 11, 2018
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March 4, 2020
I watched every minute of the Kavanaugh hearings, appalled at the procedural bullying of the Republicans, the cries of anguish from the female protestors, and I said to myself: could the atmosphere in Congress ever have been worse than this? It was then that I remembered my history, how—sometime in the late 1850’s--an abolitionist U.S. senator was caned by a Southern member of the House, beaten within an inch of his life on the Senate floor itself!
If you read Joanne B. Freeman’s excellent history The Field of Blood: Violence in Congress and the Road to Civil War, you will learn all about this May 22, 1856 attack by Representative Preston Brooks (D-SC) upon Senator Charles Sumner (R-MA). You will learn about Sumner’s fiery speech against slavery, a speech including derogatory references to Senator Andrew Butler (D-SC), Brooks’ second cousin, and of Brook’s resolve to avenge the honor of his family, his state, and his culture’s “peculiar institution.” And you will also learn about Republican anger, the intensity of their “resistance,” their determination to no longer be intimidated into silence by the bully boys and duelists of the South:
Northern congressmen were rising up and their chief weapons were the right of free speech and their willingness to fight for that right. Massachusetts Republican Chauncey Knapp's constituents said as much in June 1856 when they saw him off as he headed back to Washington. Just before Knapp boarded the train, a small assembly of people gave him a parting gift of use in Congress: a revolver inscribed with the words “Free Speech.”You see, the Caning of Sumner was not an isolated incident, but a culmination, and because it was a culmination, it also functioned as a powerful symbol. Southern congressmen, ever quick to defend their honor, had been threatening their Northern counterparts with duels, street fights, and public beatings for a quarter of a century, and the Northerners—unaccustomed to the barbarous aspects of chivalry—endeavored not to offend their prickly neighbors from the South. And of course the thing that offended these gentlemen most was any criticism of slavery.
When abolitionist agitation intensified in the early ‘30’s, the violence began to increase, and starting in 1836 a series of “gag rules” were passed to prohibit anti-slavery petitions from being read or discussed on the House floor. John Quincey Adams and Joshua Giddings of Ohio were the only congressmen who routinely defied this rule, probably because Adams was too old to attack physically and Giddings, the “anti-slavery toreador” was just too big and formidable to mess with. Still, the threats, the challenges and the fist fights continued. And the antebellum Whigs and Republicans, blocked at every turn by Southern bullying and procedural boondoggles, finally--like the progressive women of today--got mad as hell and refused to take it anymore.
Joanne Freeman does an excellent job of painting, in vivid detail, the chaotic atmosphere of the House of Representatives: the widespread tobacco spitting, the drunkenness (particularly notable during evening sessions), the bowie knives and pistols routinely carried onto the senate floor. She also does a good job of sorting out—from conflicting accounts, many of which euphemize the violence—what precisely happened in the halls of Congress, the D.C. streets and dueling fields beyond. Her most valuable source for such information is the diary of William Brown French, who served as a congressman, Clerk of the House, and Commissioner of Public Buildings, and observed congressional doings closely from the 30’s to the 60’s.
One of the best parts of the book—besides the chapter on the Sumner Caning—concentrates on the only congressional duel in which a House member was actually killed, the Cilley-Graves Duel of 1838. Her account of how these two young men, neither of whom wished to fight or knew how to shoot, each constrained by his code and poorly counseled by his friends, stumbled inevitably toward destruction is at once pathetic and tragic. It was also a harbinger of things to come.
Almost as good, though, are some of the comic melees. The Benton-Foote Scuffle (1850) is amusing, but my favorite is the donnybrook precipitated by Galusha Grow (R-PA) and Laurence Keitt (D-SC) in 1858, during one of those notoriously alcoholic evening sessions, an event which transpired directly in front of the Speaker’s platform, “featuring roughly thirty sweaty, disheveled, mostly middle-aged congressmen in a no-holds barred brawl, North against South. I will begin my account, in Homeric fashion, in medias res:
. . . John “Bowie Knife” Potter (R-WI) and the fighting Washburn brothers—Cadwallader (R-WI), Israel (R-ME), and Elihu (R-IL) stood out in the rumble, with barrel chested Potter jogging straight into the scrum, thowing punches as he tried to reach Grow. At one point, he slugged Elliot Barksdale (D-MS), who mistakenly reeled around and socked Elihu Washburne in return . . . . Potter responded by grabbing Barksdale by the hair to punch him in the face, but to his utter asthonishment, Barkdsdale’s hair came off: he wore a toupee. Meanwhile, John Covode (R-PA) had raised a spitton above his head and was looking for a target . . . . Within a few minutes, people had settled back in their seats—thanks, in part, to the hilarity of Barksdale’s flipped wig—and the House went back to arguing until its adjounment at 6:30 a.m.
February 22, 2022
Joanne Freeman's The Field of Blood provides an eye-opening look at the tensions and tumult of antebellum politics in America. Historians often treat the epoch between the Missouri Compromise and the Civil War as a time of political giants clashing over the country's future, in passionate but eloquent, high-toned debate transcending the petty divisiveness of our current moment. Freeman (whose Affairs of Honor similarly revises post-independence America) explodes this myth, showing that violence, whether in heated rhetoric, threats or explicit bloodshed, was not only ever-present but woven into the very fabric of mid-1800s Congress. Not only formalized duels but fistfights, street scuffles, full-on brawls in Congressional chambers - a cavalcade of cross words and crossed swords, most often energized by sectional tensions over slavery. Indeed, Freeman's book is perhaps most useful in showing how Southern advocates of "states rights," from John Calhoun and Preston Brooks to lesser-known figures like Henry S. Foote and Henry Wise, used explicit threats of bloodshed and disunion to keep timid, divided Northerners from challenging their agenda ("Northerners responded to Southern threats as Northerners were wont to do," Freeman recounts: "they demanded orderly debate"). The problem, then, may have been less a lack of compromise than an excess of it: the congressional "gag rule" that prohibited debating slavery (flaunted brazenly by John Quincy Adams, one of the book's heroes), the arguments over Mexican annexation, the Fugitive Slave Act and the Compromise of 1850 that led to Foote drawing a pistol on Thomas Hart Benton during a floor debate without repercussion. It culminates in Brooks' infamous caning of Charles Sumner (spurred by the Sumner's denunciation of slaveholder violence in Kansas), an affair less remarkable for its violence than its one-sidedness: Sumner had no chance to fight back or defend himself, and thus Brooks violated the unspoken code of honor that enervated Congressional squabbles. When Northerners from Sumner to Thaddeus Stevens started resisting (usually rhetorically, but sometimes physically) Southern bullying, the Southerners portrayed themselves as victims...a formulation that remains, sadly, recognizable in contemporary politics. Resonant too are the partisan stonewalling, the press alternately deploring and cheerleading outrageous lawmakers, and the arguments about the contexts and limits of free speech. Freeman portrays this all with a pleasant mixture of scholarly detachment and mordant wit ("Wrestlers, hockey players and congressmen rarely kill each other, though they make a good show of it"), making for a book a lot more fun (if frequently infuriating) to read than it has any right to be.
July 21, 2022
On February 24, 1838, a small group of men rode out from the Washington, D.C. to a grove on the Maryland border. Once there, a measurement was taken to demarcate a distance of eighty yards for a duel, then two of the men were led to their designated spots at opposite ends and handed the rifles that had been agreed upon beforehand as the weapon of choice. On a count, the two men fired at each other, only to miss. After several minutes of conversation, the distance was shortened and the rifles were reloaded and another round of shots exchanged futilely. It was only when a third round was fired at even shorter range that one of the men was hit in the abdomen and died a few minutes later.
What made the confrontation so remarkable was that the two men waging it were both sitting members of the United States Congress. The dispute between Representatives Jonathan Cilley, a Democrat from Maine, and William J. Graves, a Whig from Kentucky, was the only time two members of Congress fought a duel over a disagreement. Yet as Joanne Freeman demonstrates in this book, it was just one example, albeit the most extreme one, of the role violence played in the antebellum Congress. That members of Congress frequently issued threats, threw punches, and brandished weapons was more than just examples of rough representation in a young republic, but elements of a calculated effort to intimidate representatives and shut down debate on sensitive issues, most notably slavery.
Freeman builds her narrative around the observations of Benjamin Brown French, a former state legislator from New Hampshire whose several years as a clerk in the House of Representatives gave him a prime vantage point from which to witness congressional affairs. In a diary that he kept throughout much of his life, he provided a description of events that often stands in contrast to the one presented in the Congressional Globe, which was the closest to an official record that was kept at that time. Whereas the Globe presented a polished version of proceedings and debates, French captured the rawer pace of life on the House floor, with its members profaning, drinking, bartering, and arguing, sometimes with their fists.
Some of the quarrels were the product of abrasive personalities, long hours, worn tempers, and copious amounts of booze. But it was also a reflection of a society where questions of honor defined masculinity, particularly in the states of the South. There, elites sometimes employed the ritualized violence of the duel to resolve personal disputes. With the social transformations taking place in antebellum America, a new generation of politicians from lower down the social ladder were winning public office, bringing with them an extra sensitivity to their status. This made the new men of the South regular users of the threat of duels as a means of confirming their right to their newly-gained positions in society. Once in the United States Congress, they interacted with men from other regions of the country, who were no less belligerent but who were unfamiliar with the customs that governed a potentially fatal clash.
This gave Southerners an advantage that they did not hesitate to exploit. With the emergence of slavery as a political issue in the 1830s, Southerners in both parties increasingly sought to use the threat of violence as a cudgel to shut down debate in Congress over it. While the privilege of debate could exempt the accused from being challenged to a duel, resort to this was often regarded as unmanly and could cost the person invoking it the respect of his peers and the broader public. Instead, Northerners needed the aid of Southerners to navigate challenges, forcing them literally to play by their rules. Sometimes in the passion of argument individual members ignored the rules altogether and scuffled on the floor of the House during debates. Though such breaches of decorum were discouraged, it was nonetheless useful as another form of bullying that could be used to curtail Northern criticisms of slavery.
This changed in the 1850s with the rise of the Republican Party. Formed in opposition to slavery, its members exploited the growing discontent among Northerners with slaveholders’ demands to supersede the Whigs. Once in Congress they proved more than willing to stand up to bullying Southerners and to match threats with threats. Such provocative responses only intensified the problem with violence in Congress, as was most dramatically demonstrated by the infamous caning of Massachusetts Senator Charles Sumner by South Carolina congressman Preston Brooks on the floor of the Senate. By 1860, members on both sides had turned Congress into an armed camp, and Freeman cites fear of public opinion as the only thing holding back an outburst of open fighting. The tension was broken by the secession of most of the Southern states in 1861. With their representatives gone the threat of duels left with them, with those among their number who had sought to use violence to settle their differences able to satisfy their desire by taking up arms in the civil war that followed.
French was a firsthand witness to many of these events, and Freeman chronicles his evolution during this period from a moderate Democratic “doughface” and close friend of Franklin Pierce into a committed Republican who was among those at Abraham Lincoln’s bedside when he died from his assassin’s bullet. As such he serves as a useful metric for the political transformations brought about by the same factors driving the violence in Congress. Freeman’s book is built upon the effective employment of the diaries, which she supplements with congressional reports, newspaper articles, and other contemporary materials. These she uses to make a convincing case for how one region’s representatives used bullying as a means of limiting the debate on slavery. Her narrative benefits from a clear, jargon-free style and a perceptive analysis, which combine to make her book a compelling read. Nobody interested in antebellum politics can afford to neglect it, while the insights it offers into congressional violence and its consequences make it a work that has an unfortunate relevance today and deserves a wide readership because of it.
What made the confrontation so remarkable was that the two men waging it were both sitting members of the United States Congress. The dispute between Representatives Jonathan Cilley, a Democrat from Maine, and William J. Graves, a Whig from Kentucky, was the only time two members of Congress fought a duel over a disagreement. Yet as Joanne Freeman demonstrates in this book, it was just one example, albeit the most extreme one, of the role violence played in the antebellum Congress. That members of Congress frequently issued threats, threw punches, and brandished weapons was more than just examples of rough representation in a young republic, but elements of a calculated effort to intimidate representatives and shut down debate on sensitive issues, most notably slavery.
Freeman builds her narrative around the observations of Benjamin Brown French, a former state legislator from New Hampshire whose several years as a clerk in the House of Representatives gave him a prime vantage point from which to witness congressional affairs. In a diary that he kept throughout much of his life, he provided a description of events that often stands in contrast to the one presented in the Congressional Globe, which was the closest to an official record that was kept at that time. Whereas the Globe presented a polished version of proceedings and debates, French captured the rawer pace of life on the House floor, with its members profaning, drinking, bartering, and arguing, sometimes with their fists.
Some of the quarrels were the product of abrasive personalities, long hours, worn tempers, and copious amounts of booze. But it was also a reflection of a society where questions of honor defined masculinity, particularly in the states of the South. There, elites sometimes employed the ritualized violence of the duel to resolve personal disputes. With the social transformations taking place in antebellum America, a new generation of politicians from lower down the social ladder were winning public office, bringing with them an extra sensitivity to their status. This made the new men of the South regular users of the threat of duels as a means of confirming their right to their newly-gained positions in society. Once in the United States Congress, they interacted with men from other regions of the country, who were no less belligerent but who were unfamiliar with the customs that governed a potentially fatal clash.
This gave Southerners an advantage that they did not hesitate to exploit. With the emergence of slavery as a political issue in the 1830s, Southerners in both parties increasingly sought to use the threat of violence as a cudgel to shut down debate in Congress over it. While the privilege of debate could exempt the accused from being challenged to a duel, resort to this was often regarded as unmanly and could cost the person invoking it the respect of his peers and the broader public. Instead, Northerners needed the aid of Southerners to navigate challenges, forcing them literally to play by their rules. Sometimes in the passion of argument individual members ignored the rules altogether and scuffled on the floor of the House during debates. Though such breaches of decorum were discouraged, it was nonetheless useful as another form of bullying that could be used to curtail Northern criticisms of slavery.
This changed in the 1850s with the rise of the Republican Party. Formed in opposition to slavery, its members exploited the growing discontent among Northerners with slaveholders’ demands to supersede the Whigs. Once in Congress they proved more than willing to stand up to bullying Southerners and to match threats with threats. Such provocative responses only intensified the problem with violence in Congress, as was most dramatically demonstrated by the infamous caning of Massachusetts Senator Charles Sumner by South Carolina congressman Preston Brooks on the floor of the Senate. By 1860, members on both sides had turned Congress into an armed camp, and Freeman cites fear of public opinion as the only thing holding back an outburst of open fighting. The tension was broken by the secession of most of the Southern states in 1861. With their representatives gone the threat of duels left with them, with those among their number who had sought to use violence to settle their differences able to satisfy their desire by taking up arms in the civil war that followed.
French was a firsthand witness to many of these events, and Freeman chronicles his evolution during this period from a moderate Democratic “doughface” and close friend of Franklin Pierce into a committed Republican who was among those at Abraham Lincoln’s bedside when he died from his assassin’s bullet. As such he serves as a useful metric for the political transformations brought about by the same factors driving the violence in Congress. Freeman’s book is built upon the effective employment of the diaries, which she supplements with congressional reports, newspaper articles, and other contemporary materials. These she uses to make a convincing case for how one region’s representatives used bullying as a means of limiting the debate on slavery. Her narrative benefits from a clear, jargon-free style and a perceptive analysis, which combine to make her book a compelling read. Nobody interested in antebellum politics can afford to neglect it, while the insights it offers into congressional violence and its consequences make it a work that has an unfortunate relevance today and deserves a wide readership because of it.
March 7, 2019
Almost every serious student of the American Civil War had heard/read about the assault on the Senate Floor of Sen Charles Sumner of NY by Rep Preston Brooks of South Carolina. The assault was so savage that Sen Sumner was nearly killed and suffered permanent physical damage. With this narrative Prof Joanne Freeman of Yale brings to light that this was not an isolated event or even that rare. She states that between the years of 1830-1860 there were at least 70 physical confrontations between Congressman/Senators on the floor or near the Capitol grounds and one death in a duel between members.
Using the diaries of William Brown French, the longtime clerk of the House of Representatives, as a basis, the author looks at the culture of the Congress and how it reflected the culture of those men (there were no women) who sat in the chambers. The big differences between the how South/West and the North perceived that honor and what members were willing to do about it are well illustrated. In addition, the concept of Honor, Prof Freeman also looks at how congress was run. From weapons on the floor – knives, clubs/canes and firearms, the almost universal use of chewing tobacco that mess that made of the chambers, congressmen freely imbibing their alcohol while on the floor and in session. She tells of congressmen/senators so drunk they had to be carried out the chambers and placed somewhere they could sober up. The picture one takes away of congress is vastly different from what one currently sees on CSPAN.
To say that the Congress members for the Southern States had a more hair trigger and physical response to slights is an understatement. Of the 70 aforementioned confrontations, almost all were initiated by Southern/Western Congressmen. In looking at just what those slights were, almost all had to do with the South’s “Peculiar Institution” – Slavery.
In telling the story of the debate over slavery in the preCivil War congress, the author does an exceptional job of telling just how the South used their “Honor” to stifle debate. I would characterized as intimidation (the northerners did not want to antagonized those of the South), but Ms. Freeman uses the term bullying, which also fits. In addition to outright bullying, southern congressmen/senators used every parliamentary trick they knew to stop debate. This including tabling legislation, not allowing petitions to come to the floor etc. In fact, congress divided not only on sectional lines, but also on whether one would come to Capitol armed or not. Those fractions became known as the “Armed Men”, mainly from the south and west and the “Noncombatants”, mainly from the north.
She states that just about the only Northern Congress people who wouldn’t be bullied are the former President John Q. Adams (who was too beloved and distinguished to quiet) and Joshua Giddings (who was too large to physically attack). She also looks at why the Northern Congressmen put up with it. To put simply, up until the late 1850s, keeping the Nation together was most of the northern congressmen paramount goal.
To sum it up, this is an enlightening look both the culture of the Antebellum Congress and the preCivil war debates on slavery. I found it a bit academic at times and not a particularly “smooth” read, but fascinating never the less. It is an eye opening account that makes our present Congressional problems seem tame by comparison. I would rate his 3.5 stars and would recommend it to anyone interested in the Civil war or politics
Using the diaries of William Brown French, the longtime clerk of the House of Representatives, as a basis, the author looks at the culture of the Congress and how it reflected the culture of those men (there were no women) who sat in the chambers. The big differences between the how South/West and the North perceived that honor and what members were willing to do about it are well illustrated. In addition, the concept of Honor, Prof Freeman also looks at how congress was run. From weapons on the floor – knives, clubs/canes and firearms, the almost universal use of chewing tobacco that mess that made of the chambers, congressmen freely imbibing their alcohol while on the floor and in session. She tells of congressmen/senators so drunk they had to be carried out the chambers and placed somewhere they could sober up. The picture one takes away of congress is vastly different from what one currently sees on CSPAN.
To say that the Congress members for the Southern States had a more hair trigger and physical response to slights is an understatement. Of the 70 aforementioned confrontations, almost all were initiated by Southern/Western Congressmen. In looking at just what those slights were, almost all had to do with the South’s “Peculiar Institution” – Slavery.
In telling the story of the debate over slavery in the preCivil War congress, the author does an exceptional job of telling just how the South used their “Honor” to stifle debate. I would characterized as intimidation (the northerners did not want to antagonized those of the South), but Ms. Freeman uses the term bullying, which also fits. In addition to outright bullying, southern congressmen/senators used every parliamentary trick they knew to stop debate. This including tabling legislation, not allowing petitions to come to the floor etc. In fact, congress divided not only on sectional lines, but also on whether one would come to Capitol armed or not. Those fractions became known as the “Armed Men”, mainly from the south and west and the “Noncombatants”, mainly from the north.
She states that just about the only Northern Congress people who wouldn’t be bullied are the former President John Q. Adams (who was too beloved and distinguished to quiet) and Joshua Giddings (who was too large to physically attack). She also looks at why the Northern Congressmen put up with it. To put simply, up until the late 1850s, keeping the Nation together was most of the northern congressmen paramount goal.
To sum it up, this is an enlightening look both the culture of the Antebellum Congress and the preCivil war debates on slavery. I found it a bit academic at times and not a particularly “smooth” read, but fascinating never the less. It is an eye opening account that makes our present Congressional problems seem tame by comparison. I would rate his 3.5 stars and would recommend it to anyone interested in the Civil war or politics
August 12, 2018
Joanne B. Freeman's The Field of Blood: Violence in Congress and the Road to Civil War is an entertaining, well researched, and well-written examination of physical violence in U.S. Congress in the decades leading to the Civil War. Most of it stems from diarist B.B. French, who managed to be on hand or on the fringes for every major political and historical event of his lifetime. A New Hampshire native, French was highly active in D.C. politics, knew politicians and presidents, and often had a ring-side seat to the debates and violence on the floors of Congress.
Not merely a cataloging of duels, brawls, canings, and insults, Field of Blood examines the reasons behind the violence- both personal and cultural. Violence and duels were seen as honorable, manly codes of conduct in the South and barbaric and uncivilized in the North. Southern politicians would often use bullying and threats of violence to hold power in Congress. Politicians were seen as closely representing the constituents, their state, and their region and "fighting for the people's rights" was often taken very literally. Insult an individual and you insulted the region. Insult the region and you insulted the individual. Honor was often called into question and (usually) representatives settled things outside the halls of Congress. It was an interesting dynamic that the patriot French watched: people believed Congress to be solemn, serious, full of great men giving great speeches- if they saw what French saw, the general public might think very differently.
Freeman presents readers with a little looked at slice of American history leading up to the Civil War, bringing 19th century political figures to life with a humorous and down-to-earth style of writing that keeps the reader engaged from beginning to end. Americans who believe today's political standoffs and partisanship are unprecedented may appreciate reading the literal stand-offs of the past, when people sent guns to their Congressmen so they could fight for their constituents' rights and pistols, rifles, and bowie knives were regularly carried "just in case."
For anyone who imagines 19th century Congressmen as staid and boring old men, Freedman will introduce you to a whole new side of American politics. A great read!
Not merely a cataloging of duels, brawls, canings, and insults, Field of Blood examines the reasons behind the violence- both personal and cultural. Violence and duels were seen as honorable, manly codes of conduct in the South and barbaric and uncivilized in the North. Southern politicians would often use bullying and threats of violence to hold power in Congress. Politicians were seen as closely representing the constituents, their state, and their region and "fighting for the people's rights" was often taken very literally. Insult an individual and you insulted the region. Insult the region and you insulted the individual. Honor was often called into question and (usually) representatives settled things outside the halls of Congress. It was an interesting dynamic that the patriot French watched: people believed Congress to be solemn, serious, full of great men giving great speeches- if they saw what French saw, the general public might think very differently.
Freeman presents readers with a little looked at slice of American history leading up to the Civil War, bringing 19th century political figures to life with a humorous and down-to-earth style of writing that keeps the reader engaged from beginning to end. Americans who believe today's political standoffs and partisanship are unprecedented may appreciate reading the literal stand-offs of the past, when people sent guns to their Congressmen so they could fight for their constituents' rights and pistols, rifles, and bowie knives were regularly carried "just in case."
For anyone who imagines 19th century Congressmen as staid and boring old men, Freedman will introduce you to a whole new side of American politics. A great read!
February 14, 2023
Fields of Blood makes for an unique take on History by focusing on Congress before the Civil War. It is one of those history books that fits that axiom of things have always been bad or worse before.
If you know anything about the subject, then you likely will think of the 1856 incident where Sen Charles Sumner was attacked by Rep Preston Brooks. I would suspect that lesser know when a congressman killed another one in 1838 in a duel.
This book gives good insight on dueling culture (and then later, the pre-Civil War Congress). Congressmen at that time usually paired up by Party and also Region. Newspapers would cover the Capitol, but they would not report these kinds of details
As we near the Civil War, we see the Northern Whigs give up to more aggressive Abolitionist Republicans. We then also see the Northern “doughface” Democrats
Instead of picturing great orators and decision makers, the place was kind of unruly, and Freeman relies on the diary of Benjamin Brown French, the Clerk of the House of Representatives for the unreported activities.
Unfortunately, Freeman’s book suffers when it moves away from French’s writings. It is still a fascinating book, and for the political scholar goes deep on a couple of lesser known Presidents John Quincy Adams and Franklin Pierce.
There’s a lot of interesting tidbits here and you can see America losing its confidence in Congress, Congressmen taking measures to arm themselves and the Nation splitting at the seams. Recommended for those who are interested in this not of history
December 20, 2018
I love reading about the Civil War, but most of my reading takes place primarily through the years 1861-1865, right in the thick of it. It was fascinating to read about the years leading up to the war, starting around the 1830s, tracing significant events of Congressional violence up to and even through the Civil War.
Freeman does a phenomenal job of portraying events and circumstances through the protagonist B.B. French, which helps to focus the writing and clarify some of the confusion of an inflammatory political state. The way Freeman writes, it's almost as if she traveled back in time and has chronicled the situation with herself as an eye-witness; it is clear that she has done an enormous amount of research in order to fully capture the time period.
One of the things I appreciated the most about this book was it's clear message that "battlefield violence wasn't a break from politics as normal; the outbreak of warfare wasn't a thing apart from the coming of war. Congressmen had been rehearsing civil warfare for years. Congressional violence framed the opening of war" (268).
Especially in today's political atmosphere, I feel there is an instinct for people to think of history as a time when society was more put-together and civilized, especially since history is full of important looking white men in fancy clothes. However, Freeman makes it clear that history is and always has been full of people who are merely human, who make very human mistakes and have very human tempers. She remarks of this trend by stating, "In the case of Congress, later generations overlooked its ugly undertow, envisioning its history as a succession of great issues discussed by great men speaking great words, with nary a trace of the tobacco-stained rugs" (282).
This book was an enlightening read that I highly recommend to anyone who is, like me, fascinated by history, the Civil War, and political history.
Freeman does a phenomenal job of portraying events and circumstances through the protagonist B.B. French, which helps to focus the writing and clarify some of the confusion of an inflammatory political state. The way Freeman writes, it's almost as if she traveled back in time and has chronicled the situation with herself as an eye-witness; it is clear that she has done an enormous amount of research in order to fully capture the time period.
One of the things I appreciated the most about this book was it's clear message that "battlefield violence wasn't a break from politics as normal; the outbreak of warfare wasn't a thing apart from the coming of war. Congressmen had been rehearsing civil warfare for years. Congressional violence framed the opening of war" (268).
Especially in today's political atmosphere, I feel there is an instinct for people to think of history as a time when society was more put-together and civilized, especially since history is full of important looking white men in fancy clothes. However, Freeman makes it clear that history is and always has been full of people who are merely human, who make very human mistakes and have very human tempers. She remarks of this trend by stating, "In the case of Congress, later generations overlooked its ugly undertow, envisioning its history as a succession of great issues discussed by great men speaking great words, with nary a trace of the tobacco-stained rugs" (282).
This book was an enlightening read that I highly recommend to anyone who is, like me, fascinated by history, the Civil War, and political history.
July 22, 2022
Hmmm. While this was interesting, I think something about the layout of the book evaded me and I found my attention wandering. It felt like just a lot of random happenings, loosely in chronological order. Also so jarring to make myself constantly recall the swap of democrat/republican values from the 20th century that can really affect how you read about the older party business.
The anecdote about the flag tearing in half while getting raised was chilling. The idea of congress members strapping on knives and pistols to go to the chambers was disturbing.
But this was a timely read that parallels our congressional woes today.
The anecdote about the flag tearing in half while getting raised was chilling. The idea of congress members strapping on knives and pistols to go to the chambers was disturbing.
But this was a timely read that parallels our congressional woes today.
March 5, 2019
So what is the point of history anyway?
I mean when we look deep down, what is the point of researching and writing about the past? Would we bother digging if there wasn't something we were trying to learn about now? If I'm going to bother to write a book about something (or somethings) that happened in the past, there must be some contemporary motivation for wanting to do this. I mean, I guess someone could be writing a dissertation to get their PhD, but even then that is something that interests the writer and they have their reasons. Case in point--I recently walked away from a 600+ page biography of D.W. Griffith just because in the long run I just didn't care about what would obviously be a very thoroughly researched book. But I'm not a filmmaker and so reading about how Griffith changed the industry (while also making one of the most racist films ever) just didn't rate for me. However, when I heard Joanne B. Freeman interviewed on NPR about her latest book The Field of Blood: Violence in Congress and the Road to Civil War and with the obvious parallels to the current disfunction apparent in our political process, I just had to read this.
Here's my problem with most historians--they get so wrapped up on what happened that they ignore what is happening. Ultimately this was what my problem was with Arming America: The Origins of a National Gun Culture. Historian Michael Bellesiles goes into that novel bound and determined to expose that the current view of the Second Amendment of the United States Constitution is not borne out by the history of this country, even though Second Amendment proponents argue that Americans have been firing guns to tame the wilderness, the indigenous population and even slaves since the first boats landed in the 17th Century. But the problem with this thought experiment, regardless of whatever "evidence" Bellesiles cites is that pointing out that the origin point of gun use and rights is historically incorrect doesn't change a goddamned thing. Do the victims of Parkland, Orlando and Las Vegas rest well in their graves thinking, "well, at least someone pointed out that these beliefs are grounded in historical lies...surely that helped me to survive the attack that killed me." Freeman's primary goal here seems to be to reassure us? She seems to say "hey guys, if you think political discourse is rancorous now, let me show a time when our legislators literally kicked the shit out of each other, and it eventually lead to a war!" Yes, physical violence no longer happens on the House floor, but in a country where the current state of political discourse leads to things like Charlottesville can we really be reassured? If The Field of Blood is meant to be a cautionary tale, it's too late--Heather Heyer is already dead and this isn't going to change it.
Another problem I have with this book is Freeman's reliance on the diaries of Benjamin Brown French, who is a sort of early 19th century Washington D.C.-area version of Samuel Pepys. Freeman explains this because French's personal diaries contain records of violence happening in the halls of the Capitol building--when correlating these events with reports in the newspapers of the time, the publishers always downplayed the violence because in those days politicians held the keys to the press narrative, only losing control once the telegraph was invented. At times, this becomes less about violent, bullying legislators and more about French. I think if I wanted to read about French, it would probably be better to just go to the source (although, unlike Pepys diaries, I don't know if French has ever been published--these diaries are held by the government.)
Ultimately, I think the reason this book disappoints me is that there are obvious parallels to contemporary society in this book. Why did Southern legislators bully their way through getting bills passed? I think it is because they knew slavery could not sustain itself. History has shown us that slavery was morally untenable and the Southern legislators that we quick to draw knives, guns and canes probably knew it--they now exist as being on the wrong side of history. In contemporary society we see the same--racist attitudes of privileged whites lead to bullying and blustering because they can see their own pending extinction. These are the reactions of small and petty people and they are lashing out. But Freeman doesn't make that connection here and to me, that diminishes this book because eventually those racists will be on the losing side of history as well. Those who don't learn from the past are definitely doomed to repeat it.
I mean when we look deep down, what is the point of researching and writing about the past? Would we bother digging if there wasn't something we were trying to learn about now? If I'm going to bother to write a book about something (or somethings) that happened in the past, there must be some contemporary motivation for wanting to do this. I mean, I guess someone could be writing a dissertation to get their PhD, but even then that is something that interests the writer and they have their reasons. Case in point--I recently walked away from a 600+ page biography of D.W. Griffith just because in the long run I just didn't care about what would obviously be a very thoroughly researched book. But I'm not a filmmaker and so reading about how Griffith changed the industry (while also making one of the most racist films ever) just didn't rate for me. However, when I heard Joanne B. Freeman interviewed on NPR about her latest book The Field of Blood: Violence in Congress and the Road to Civil War and with the obvious parallels to the current disfunction apparent in our political process, I just had to read this.
Here's my problem with most historians--they get so wrapped up on what happened that they ignore what is happening. Ultimately this was what my problem was with Arming America: The Origins of a National Gun Culture. Historian Michael Bellesiles goes into that novel bound and determined to expose that the current view of the Second Amendment of the United States Constitution is not borne out by the history of this country, even though Second Amendment proponents argue that Americans have been firing guns to tame the wilderness, the indigenous population and even slaves since the first boats landed in the 17th Century. But the problem with this thought experiment, regardless of whatever "evidence" Bellesiles cites is that pointing out that the origin point of gun use and rights is historically incorrect doesn't change a goddamned thing. Do the victims of Parkland, Orlando and Las Vegas rest well in their graves thinking, "well, at least someone pointed out that these beliefs are grounded in historical lies...surely that helped me to survive the attack that killed me." Freeman's primary goal here seems to be to reassure us? She seems to say "hey guys, if you think political discourse is rancorous now, let me show a time when our legislators literally kicked the shit out of each other, and it eventually lead to a war!" Yes, physical violence no longer happens on the House floor, but in a country where the current state of political discourse leads to things like Charlottesville can we really be reassured? If The Field of Blood is meant to be a cautionary tale, it's too late--Heather Heyer is already dead and this isn't going to change it.
Another problem I have with this book is Freeman's reliance on the diaries of Benjamin Brown French, who is a sort of early 19th century Washington D.C.-area version of Samuel Pepys. Freeman explains this because French's personal diaries contain records of violence happening in the halls of the Capitol building--when correlating these events with reports in the newspapers of the time, the publishers always downplayed the violence because in those days politicians held the keys to the press narrative, only losing control once the telegraph was invented. At times, this becomes less about violent, bullying legislators and more about French. I think if I wanted to read about French, it would probably be better to just go to the source (although, unlike Pepys diaries, I don't know if French has ever been published--these diaries are held by the government.)
Ultimately, I think the reason this book disappoints me is that there are obvious parallels to contemporary society in this book. Why did Southern legislators bully their way through getting bills passed? I think it is because they knew slavery could not sustain itself. History has shown us that slavery was morally untenable and the Southern legislators that we quick to draw knives, guns and canes probably knew it--they now exist as being on the wrong side of history. In contemporary society we see the same--racist attitudes of privileged whites lead to bullying and blustering because they can see their own pending extinction. These are the reactions of small and petty people and they are lashing out. But Freeman doesn't make that connection here and to me, that diminishes this book because eventually those racists will be on the losing side of history as well. Those who don't learn from the past are definitely doomed to repeat it.
February 18, 2019
A fascinating and -- to me, at least -- troubling book. I was aware of some of the violent outbreaks in Congress in the decades leading up to the Civil War, but I had no idea how common they were -- so many more than I'd thought. The slave states had inordinate power in both houses, partly because of "simple" political forces in the post-Jacksonian years, partly as a consequence of the insidious 3/5 clause in the Constitution, and partly because of the "culture of honor" (read "bullying") in the South. I hadn't known (or if I did, I'd forgotten) that southern Democrats had instituted a "gag rule" in Congress that prohibited any discussion of slavery at all. Although northerners contested this rule as a clear violation of their Constitutional rights and obligations, they were shut down every time they tried to bring the matter up: shut down not by any parliamentary procedure but by threats of violence, by Southerners literally coming at them on the floor with guns or knives drawn, by challenges to duels, and by attacks on the streets of Washington. As Freeman shows, the bullying was effective for a long time as northerners were cowed into angry submission. As the years passed, though, northerners -- particularly new northern Republicans -- learned to stand up to the bullying and fight back.
Freeman shows in detail how the culture of Congress played out as new states entered the Union and new personalities came into power. She demonstrates how sectional stresses played into the tension -- not just north-south but also east-west. And she dispels any misconceptions the reader might hold about there being a "great generation" of figures who far exceeded those of our time in their wisdom, forebearance, etc. There were great orators, yes, but there were far more men (as they all were) of lesser character, integrity, and intelligence. They were often drunk -- alcohol wasreadily available in the building -- or asleep. The space afforded to the House was grossly inadequate to the increasing number of Congressmen, the desks were too close together and fastened to the floor, the floor itself was... I'll leave that to the reader to discover for him/herself.
Some years back, I read a book by David Hackett Fischer called "Albion's Seed" in which the author showed how regional cultures were largely shaped by where in England the migrants came from. His observations are powerfully borne out in "The Field of Blood." One can't help but be aware at how much these forces are still at work today. Indeed, Freeman bookends her history with an acknowledgement of how the stresses of antebellum Congress are [sadly] echoed in the partisanship of our own largely sectional politics.
I'm not doing the book justice in my review, alas. Freeman's analysis is more thoughtful and discerning than my words suggest. The reader gets a fascinating glimpse at the daily lives of the characters: the living arrangements, encounters on the streets, relationship with the press, the air in Congress, the political context, the effect of the spoils system. The key flaw I found in "Fields," its repetitiousness, was unavoidable: the descriptions of violence and threats and so on appear again and again because violence is the subject of the book; there's no way around it. I strongly suspect I was made more aware of the repetitions because I was listening to the book rather than reading it. That aside, I am envious of the author's students at Yale.
Freeman shows in detail how the culture of Congress played out as new states entered the Union and new personalities came into power. She demonstrates how sectional stresses played into the tension -- not just north-south but also east-west. And she dispels any misconceptions the reader might hold about there being a "great generation" of figures who far exceeded those of our time in their wisdom, forebearance, etc. There were great orators, yes, but there were far more men (as they all were) of lesser character, integrity, and intelligence. They were often drunk -- alcohol wasreadily available in the building -- or asleep. The space afforded to the House was grossly inadequate to the increasing number of Congressmen, the desks were too close together and fastened to the floor, the floor itself was... I'll leave that to the reader to discover for him/herself.
Some years back, I read a book by David Hackett Fischer called "Albion's Seed" in which the author showed how regional cultures were largely shaped by where in England the migrants came from. His observations are powerfully borne out in "The Field of Blood." One can't help but be aware at how much these forces are still at work today. Indeed, Freeman bookends her history with an acknowledgement of how the stresses of antebellum Congress are [sadly] echoed in the partisanship of our own largely sectional politics.
I'm not doing the book justice in my review, alas. Freeman's analysis is more thoughtful and discerning than my words suggest. The reader gets a fascinating glimpse at the daily lives of the characters: the living arrangements, encounters on the streets, relationship with the press, the air in Congress, the political context, the effect of the spoils system. The key flaw I found in "Fields," its repetitiousness, was unavoidable: the descriptions of violence and threats and so on appear again and again because violence is the subject of the book; there's no way around it. I strongly suspect I was made more aware of the repetitions because I was listening to the book rather than reading it. That aside, I am envious of the author's students at Yale.
November 30, 2021
A few days ago, the United States Congress voted to censure Representative Paul Gosar, an Arizona Republican after he posted and edited anime video to his social media accounts that depicted violence against Democratic Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez of New York and President Biden. This along with metal detectors at entrances to the House and Senate, repeated threats of violence against members, heated rhetoric mostly from the Republican side of the aisle by the likes of Georgia Representative Marjorie Taylor Green and Colorado Representative Lauren Bogart, who exhibited her Islamophobia once again the other day, and of course the events of January 6th have raised the level of partisanship and outright fear among Congressional members to levels not seen in over 150 years. Many argue that today’s split in the body politic has no precedent, however if one consults Joanne B. Freeman’s THE FIELD OF BLOOD: VIOLENCE IN CONGRESS AND THE ROAD TO CIVIL WAR one might realize that though the current political climate is dangerous and is not conducive to legislating the pre-Civil War period from 1830 through 1861 dominated by the slavery issue was rowdier, more violent, with Congressmen carrying weapons to the floor physically attacking each other raising the level of polarization, lack of debate, distrust in Congress as a legislating institution and fear that does not compare to our current political divide.
Freeman’s narrative unveils the full scope of violence that existed in the pre-Civil War period in Congress. She writes that the era consisted of “armed groups of Northern and Southern Congressmen engaged in hand to hand combat on the House floor. Angry about rights violated and needs denied, and worried about the degradation of their section of the Union, they defended their interests with threats, fists, and weapons.” Southern Congressmen had long been bullying their way to power with threats, insults, and violence employing the tactic of public humiliation to get their way, particularly against anti-slavery advocates. At the time this type of Congressional behavior seemed routine and would soon shape the nation as people no longer seemed to trust the institution of Congress and many of its members. In time it would tear the nation apart. If any of this sounds familiar remember the elements of the pre-Civil War period are on display every day in Congress with its rhetoric, conspiracy theories, and fealty to a disgraced former president.
Freeman relies heavily on Benjamin Brown French, a House Clerk for a good part of the pre-Civil War period from 1833 on. The author argues that French was an excellent research tool as he experienced all aspects of the House for many years. He also kept a daily diary making him the perfect witness for the period. He described goings on in the Capitol, the mood on the House floor, stories heard, quirks of members, and numerous descriptions of brawls. Between 1828-1870 he filled 11 volumes and 3700 pages. Freeman uses this material very effectively as she develops her narrative, in addition to integrating French’s evolution from a purveyor of congressional compromise as a fervent supporter of the Democratic Party in the 1830s and early 1840s to a supporter of his close friend Franklin Pierce for the presidency whose views on slavery rested on accommodating the south. He would break with his friend of over 30 years due to Pierce’s support for the Kansas-Nebraska Act in 1854 which resulted in increased threats and violence in Congress. French would turn to the Republican Party where at first he preached moderation, but by 1860 exposure to a number of important abolitionists he firmly asserted Northern rights against the “Slave Power’s” encroaching grasp. He was more anti-slave power than anti-slavery and events in1860 pushed a man of moderation to extremes, compelling him to arm himself to defend the Republican cause.
Freeman’s research and analytical style has produced many important insights into the political climate of the pre-Civil War period and provides evidence of the extremism of the period evidenced by the behavior of Congressmen in addition to their racial, economic, and sectional beliefs. She highlights the most notable events of the period ranging from the territorial issues that arose because of the American victory against Mexico between 1846 and 1848, the elections of 1852, 1856, and 1860, the Compromise of 1850, the Kansas-Nebraska Act, the Dred Scott Decision, John Brown’s raid against Harper’s Ferry, and the election of Abraham Lincoln. In all cases she presents the northern and southern views of events and the actions taken by certain Congressmen which focused on threats, intimidation, bullying, and violence against each other highlighted by the caning of Massachusetts Senator Charles Sumner by South Carolina Democratic Representative Preston Brooks.
Numerous confrontations are described with the role of “dueling” and the “dough faces” (individuals who feared southern attacks) of northerners stressed to the point that “manhood” became the coin of the realm in Congress. Freeman describes the lengths that certain Northern congressmen went to avoid aggravating southerners over slavery in the name of party and national unity. This reinforced the southern view that northerners were weak and could be bullied into submission. Men like Louisiana Representative John Lawson and Henry Wise of Virginia would gleefully threaten and then attack other members of Congress if they felt insulted by anyone who questioned slavery and in effect anything that they deemed critical of the south. Freeman is correct when she argues that “southerners used violence as a ‘device of terrorism’ to force compliance to their demands – and they did so with pride.” The southern rationalization for their behavior was a code of honor – believing that they resorted to these tactics as a means to protect and defend “southern honor” for which they would allow no criticism.
Freeman presents a series of violent confrontations, some leading to duels, others to physical attacks between members usually instigated by southern Congressmen. Many of Freeman’s descriptions are entertaining, particularly her discussion of the conflict between Montana Democratic Senator Thomas Hart Benton and Mississippi Senator Henry Foote whose nickname was “hang man,” but the reality of what she says highlights the sectional conflict that could only be papered over by compromise and eventually would explode into Civil War.
The turning point begins with the debates related to the eventual Compromise of 1850 which temporarily settled many issues pertaining to the Mexican Cession following the war with our southern neighbor. The debates focused on sectional rights and soon became personal for each congressman and their constituents as bullying, degradation, honor, bravery, manhood, power, deference and pride all came to the fore. With the election of Franklin Pierce and his support for the Fugitive Slave Law many Democrats like French would leave the party and support the burgeoning Republican party.
Throughout the period newspapers played a key role as does the invention and use of the telegraph as events in Congress could be made available to the public in a very short time. The press controlled communication with constituents who would soon learn of the violence, ill will, and lack of legislation taking place. Reporters would heighten conflict in Congress and at home. With the Kansas-Nebraska Act which fueled “bloody Kansas,” the new sensationalist press had come to the fore. The result, after 1855 fights in Congress would spike, and it would evolve into an armed camp with members carrying pistols and bowie knives to the House floor each day.
Freeman is on point as she develops the emergence of the Republican Party which would promote a new kind of northerner who was now willing to fight back – to wrest control of Congress and the Union from the “Slave Power.” The bold rhetoric of the likes of Benjamin Wade, William Fessenden, Joshua Giddings, Charles Sumner and others was guaranteed to provoke a southern backlash. Violence was just another political tool and Republicans finally fought the southerners exchanging blow for blow. This would send a powerful message – a united north willing to fight for its interests and rights long violated by southerners.
What separates Freeman’s work from others is that she is able to unlock the emotional logic of disunion by showing how the divergent views of different geographical sections fostered distrust between various groups in Congress. The degradation which seemed like a daily occurrence educated a national audience to revile opposing opinions, individuals, and sections of the country.
In conclusion, I agree with historian David S. Reynold review in the New York Times (September 24, 2018); “Like other good historical works, “The Field of Blood” casts fresh light on the period it examines while leading us to think about our own time. Although incidents like the Sumner caning and the Cilley duel are familiar, the contexts in which Freeman places them are not. Nor are the new details she supplies. She enriches what we already know and tells us a lot about what we don’t know. Who knew that the Sumner incident, for example, was just one of scores of violent episodes in Congress?
Freeman doesn’t make explicit comparisons between then and today. She doesn’t have to. A crippled Congress. Opposing political sides that don’t communicate meaningfully with each other. A seemingly unbridgeable cultural divide. Sound familiar?
All that’s missing is an Honest Abe to save us.”
Freeman’s narrative unveils the full scope of violence that existed in the pre-Civil War period in Congress. She writes that the era consisted of “armed groups of Northern and Southern Congressmen engaged in hand to hand combat on the House floor. Angry about rights violated and needs denied, and worried about the degradation of their section of the Union, they defended their interests with threats, fists, and weapons.” Southern Congressmen had long been bullying their way to power with threats, insults, and violence employing the tactic of public humiliation to get their way, particularly against anti-slavery advocates. At the time this type of Congressional behavior seemed routine and would soon shape the nation as people no longer seemed to trust the institution of Congress and many of its members. In time it would tear the nation apart. If any of this sounds familiar remember the elements of the pre-Civil War period are on display every day in Congress with its rhetoric, conspiracy theories, and fealty to a disgraced former president.
Freeman relies heavily on Benjamin Brown French, a House Clerk for a good part of the pre-Civil War period from 1833 on. The author argues that French was an excellent research tool as he experienced all aspects of the House for many years. He also kept a daily diary making him the perfect witness for the period. He described goings on in the Capitol, the mood on the House floor, stories heard, quirks of members, and numerous descriptions of brawls. Between 1828-1870 he filled 11 volumes and 3700 pages. Freeman uses this material very effectively as she develops her narrative, in addition to integrating French’s evolution from a purveyor of congressional compromise as a fervent supporter of the Democratic Party in the 1830s and early 1840s to a supporter of his close friend Franklin Pierce for the presidency whose views on slavery rested on accommodating the south. He would break with his friend of over 30 years due to Pierce’s support for the Kansas-Nebraska Act in 1854 which resulted in increased threats and violence in Congress. French would turn to the Republican Party where at first he preached moderation, but by 1860 exposure to a number of important abolitionists he firmly asserted Northern rights against the “Slave Power’s” encroaching grasp. He was more anti-slave power than anti-slavery and events in1860 pushed a man of moderation to extremes, compelling him to arm himself to defend the Republican cause.
Freeman’s research and analytical style has produced many important insights into the political climate of the pre-Civil War period and provides evidence of the extremism of the period evidenced by the behavior of Congressmen in addition to their racial, economic, and sectional beliefs. She highlights the most notable events of the period ranging from the territorial issues that arose because of the American victory against Mexico between 1846 and 1848, the elections of 1852, 1856, and 1860, the Compromise of 1850, the Kansas-Nebraska Act, the Dred Scott Decision, John Brown’s raid against Harper’s Ferry, and the election of Abraham Lincoln. In all cases she presents the northern and southern views of events and the actions taken by certain Congressmen which focused on threats, intimidation, bullying, and violence against each other highlighted by the caning of Massachusetts Senator Charles Sumner by South Carolina Democratic Representative Preston Brooks.
Numerous confrontations are described with the role of “dueling” and the “dough faces” (individuals who feared southern attacks) of northerners stressed to the point that “manhood” became the coin of the realm in Congress. Freeman describes the lengths that certain Northern congressmen went to avoid aggravating southerners over slavery in the name of party and national unity. This reinforced the southern view that northerners were weak and could be bullied into submission. Men like Louisiana Representative John Lawson and Henry Wise of Virginia would gleefully threaten and then attack other members of Congress if they felt insulted by anyone who questioned slavery and in effect anything that they deemed critical of the south. Freeman is correct when she argues that “southerners used violence as a ‘device of terrorism’ to force compliance to their demands – and they did so with pride.” The southern rationalization for their behavior was a code of honor – believing that they resorted to these tactics as a means to protect and defend “southern honor” for which they would allow no criticism.
Freeman presents a series of violent confrontations, some leading to duels, others to physical attacks between members usually instigated by southern Congressmen. Many of Freeman’s descriptions are entertaining, particularly her discussion of the conflict between Montana Democratic Senator Thomas Hart Benton and Mississippi Senator Henry Foote whose nickname was “hang man,” but the reality of what she says highlights the sectional conflict that could only be papered over by compromise and eventually would explode into Civil War.
The turning point begins with the debates related to the eventual Compromise of 1850 which temporarily settled many issues pertaining to the Mexican Cession following the war with our southern neighbor. The debates focused on sectional rights and soon became personal for each congressman and their constituents as bullying, degradation, honor, bravery, manhood, power, deference and pride all came to the fore. With the election of Franklin Pierce and his support for the Fugitive Slave Law many Democrats like French would leave the party and support the burgeoning Republican party.
Throughout the period newspapers played a key role as does the invention and use of the telegraph as events in Congress could be made available to the public in a very short time. The press controlled communication with constituents who would soon learn of the violence, ill will, and lack of legislation taking place. Reporters would heighten conflict in Congress and at home. With the Kansas-Nebraska Act which fueled “bloody Kansas,” the new sensationalist press had come to the fore. The result, after 1855 fights in Congress would spike, and it would evolve into an armed camp with members carrying pistols and bowie knives to the House floor each day.
Freeman is on point as she develops the emergence of the Republican Party which would promote a new kind of northerner who was now willing to fight back – to wrest control of Congress and the Union from the “Slave Power.” The bold rhetoric of the likes of Benjamin Wade, William Fessenden, Joshua Giddings, Charles Sumner and others was guaranteed to provoke a southern backlash. Violence was just another political tool and Republicans finally fought the southerners exchanging blow for blow. This would send a powerful message – a united north willing to fight for its interests and rights long violated by southerners.
What separates Freeman’s work from others is that she is able to unlock the emotional logic of disunion by showing how the divergent views of different geographical sections fostered distrust between various groups in Congress. The degradation which seemed like a daily occurrence educated a national audience to revile opposing opinions, individuals, and sections of the country.
In conclusion, I agree with historian David S. Reynold review in the New York Times (September 24, 2018); “Like other good historical works, “The Field of Blood” casts fresh light on the period it examines while leading us to think about our own time. Although incidents like the Sumner caning and the Cilley duel are familiar, the contexts in which Freeman places them are not. Nor are the new details she supplies. She enriches what we already know and tells us a lot about what we don’t know. Who knew that the Sumner incident, for example, was just one of scores of violent episodes in Congress?
Freeman doesn’t make explicit comparisons between then and today. She doesn’t have to. A crippled Congress. Opposing political sides that don’t communicate meaningfully with each other. A seemingly unbridgeable cultural divide. Sound familiar?
All that’s missing is an Honest Abe to save us.”
June 29, 2022
This book lives up to the hype! And there was a fair amount of it, as far as historical monographs go.
Joanne B. Freeman's staggering research produced about 100 pages of endnote citations, many of which provide asides and nuggets just as interesting as the book itself. Freeman relies heavily on the diaries of writings of Benjamin Brown French, a political gadfly and history chaser who moved in Washington high society and had a number of official positions stretching from the Jackson to the Lincoln administrations. Much of the violence discussed in the book was deliberately left out of the Congressional Record and other formal documentation. "For me to find the violence, I had to dig around. I was using private letters, diaries, databases," Freeman says. "I was getting little bits of information and triangulating... to prove, to my satisfaction, that something had happened."
The result of Freeman's triangulating is an entirely fresh examination of Congress in the decades culminating in the Civil War. Freeman cites that there were at least 70 cases of violence between members of Congress in these years. These included fist fights, canings, knife fights, and duels (which was, in one case, fatal). Violence occurred on the Senate and House floors, in the streets of Washington, and in hidden enclaves outside the city to avoid prosecution by way of anti-dueling laws.
So many dynamic characters of the era are brought to life with Freeman's vivid and lively writing. Irascible John Quincy Adams constantly nags Southern Democrats by bypassing "gag rules," muscled through by the South to prevent discussion of slavery. Abolitionist Joshua Giddings of Ohio takes regular beatings by Southern Democrats as a mechanism to expose the brutality of the Slave Power. A parade of southern bullies — John Dawson, Henry Wise, Preston Brooks, Henry Foote — assert their dominance against an increasingly restless and fed-up North.
We are left with a portrait of shockingly violent years in Congress, driven by a southern Slave Power's domineering racism and toxic masculinity (but mostly racism). Freeman asserts that the mood and environment in our Congress mirrors that of the nation, and refracts it back to us, creating a sort of positive feedback loop. Polarization and partisanship were already at a fever pitch when Freeman published this book in 2018, but of course it's only increased in the years since. The deadly violence of the January 6 insurrection and successive efforts by Congressional extremists to throw our democracy off its axis give Freeman's book a contemporary sense of urgency.
Joanne B. Freeman's staggering research produced about 100 pages of endnote citations, many of which provide asides and nuggets just as interesting as the book itself. Freeman relies heavily on the diaries of writings of Benjamin Brown French, a political gadfly and history chaser who moved in Washington high society and had a number of official positions stretching from the Jackson to the Lincoln administrations. Much of the violence discussed in the book was deliberately left out of the Congressional Record and other formal documentation. "For me to find the violence, I had to dig around. I was using private letters, diaries, databases," Freeman says. "I was getting little bits of information and triangulating... to prove, to my satisfaction, that something had happened."
The result of Freeman's triangulating is an entirely fresh examination of Congress in the decades culminating in the Civil War. Freeman cites that there were at least 70 cases of violence between members of Congress in these years. These included fist fights, canings, knife fights, and duels (which was, in one case, fatal). Violence occurred on the Senate and House floors, in the streets of Washington, and in hidden enclaves outside the city to avoid prosecution by way of anti-dueling laws.
So many dynamic characters of the era are brought to life with Freeman's vivid and lively writing. Irascible John Quincy Adams constantly nags Southern Democrats by bypassing "gag rules," muscled through by the South to prevent discussion of slavery. Abolitionist Joshua Giddings of Ohio takes regular beatings by Southern Democrats as a mechanism to expose the brutality of the Slave Power. A parade of southern bullies — John Dawson, Henry Wise, Preston Brooks, Henry Foote — assert their dominance against an increasingly restless and fed-up North.
We are left with a portrait of shockingly violent years in Congress, driven by a southern Slave Power's domineering racism and toxic masculinity (but mostly racism). Freeman asserts that the mood and environment in our Congress mirrors that of the nation, and refracts it back to us, creating a sort of positive feedback loop. Polarization and partisanship were already at a fever pitch when Freeman published this book in 2018, but of course it's only increased in the years since. The deadly violence of the January 6 insurrection and successive efforts by Congressional extremists to throw our democracy off its axis give Freeman's book a contemporary sense of urgency.
May 1, 2023
I really enjoyed the book, I think it showed the culture of violence that ruled the US congress in the antebellum period. Not only by describing certain events that happend but also by explaining how verbal abuse and threats of violence could be enough to shut down political opponents. The amounts of weapons that were allowed to carried in congress, guns and otherwise, is shocking. When US society became polarized more and more by questions of slavery , the violence increased. Before politicians would threaten opponents with duels or canings, now they would threaten the Union with secession.
What I really loved was that the author wrote this narrative and combined it with a very human story of Benjamin Brown French, a clerk of the House. A witness to all these events, his diaries are a treasure of information for this research. At the same time his evolution from pro-slavery democrat to an unionist anti-slavepower republican is a very intruiging story.
On a complete side note: John Quincy Adams is great! He plays a minor role in this book but a very memorable one.
This is very impressive book : both in the depth of it's research as in the great way it's written. I gave it 4,5 stars and would recommend it anyone who loves US political history.
What I really loved was that the author wrote this narrative and combined it with a very human story of Benjamin Brown French, a clerk of the House. A witness to all these events, his diaries are a treasure of information for this research. At the same time his evolution from pro-slavery democrat to an unionist anti-slavepower republican is a very intruiging story.
On a complete side note: John Quincy Adams is great! He plays a minor role in this book but a very memorable one.
This is very impressive book : both in the depth of it's research as in the great way it's written. I gave it 4,5 stars and would recommend it anyone who loves US political history.
January 2, 2022
Almost one year later I have finally finished this book. Perhaps if I read it at a different time in my life, I would have enjoyed it. Instead, it was a constant struggle. The book is missing an arc. It’s more like a long list of things that happened in order but misses the story and the “so what.” The appendix/notes section is 169 pages. Well researched, just not fun.
Happy to have finally finished and here’s to a stronger reading year in 2022!
Happy to have finally finished and here’s to a stronger reading year in 2022!
September 26, 2018
As a public historian/tour guide at the US Capitol, I will cherish this incredibly well-researched book as new foundation stone in my effort to educate the public about the tumultuous history of Congress.
Read
September 13, 2023Professor Freeman has offered an interesting history of Congress in the middle part of the 19th Century. The House (and to a lesser extent the Senate) was a pretty rough place during this period. The South, in the first part, was able to cower discussions on abolition of slavery with a mix of clever parliamentary procedure and bullying - meted out in almost equal amounts.
In the years leading up to the Civil war southern members used the code of honor. Freeman does a superb job of explaining how many members began to carry weapons on the floor of the house. Many have read about the caning of Charles Sumner but I suspect most have not heard of a famous duel between a Southerner and Northerner where the loser died of his wounds. (The combatants were Jonathan Cilley, a young member from Maine, and and William Graves from Kentucky. One of the seconds was named Wise so the confrontation could have been called Silly (Cilley) v Wise.)
I found this book very current because it highlights that the relative inability of the current Congress to deal with major issues was repeated in earlier periods. Freeman added to my knowledge about several key figures of the period. In the period in Freeman's book she highlights the shifting alliances of the sides in the debates about slavery and even some significant efforts, ultimately unsuccessful, to get the sides to work more proactively.
In the years leading up to the Civil war southern members used the code of honor. Freeman does a superb job of explaining how many members began to carry weapons on the floor of the house. Many have read about the caning of Charles Sumner but I suspect most have not heard of a famous duel between a Southerner and Northerner where the loser died of his wounds. (The combatants were Jonathan Cilley, a young member from Maine, and and William Graves from Kentucky. One of the seconds was named Wise so the confrontation could have been called Silly (Cilley) v Wise.)
I found this book very current because it highlights that the relative inability of the current Congress to deal with major issues was repeated in earlier periods. Freeman added to my knowledge about several key figures of the period. In the period in Freeman's book she highlights the shifting alliances of the sides in the debates about slavery and even some significant efforts, ultimately unsuccessful, to get the sides to work more proactively.
December 20, 2023
Freeman provides a rigorous account of how violence in Congress emerged and festered in the 30 years before the Civil War. The scholarship is impeccable, but most impressive is the careful analysis (she attends to the ways in which violence responds to, reflects, and accelerates the growing disunion). Her prose is always engaging (you do not have to be an academic wienie to enjoy this book), and she inserts humor in ways that never detract from the substance. She published this book in 2017, and describes in an opening note how distressingly relevant her work was to our ever-angrier era. Now, of course, when we again have open physical conflict in Congress, her work feels like unsettling and mandatory reading for folks who worry about the health of the US.
March 11, 2020
Very good. The best part was about John Quincy Adams returning to the House after losing reelection and saying anything he damn well pleased because no one could touch him. I would read another 800 pages just on that. The rest was very interesting and offered a new (to me) perspective of the chaos and violence of the house floor right before the civil war. I understand the framing of the book around the life of a single clerk, but I can't shake the feeling that it detracted rather than enhanced the book. It felt like two separate books, though closely related. Still very good.
August 28, 2022
If you think today's politics is awful, I encourage you to read this book about Congress in the 1830s to the start of the Civil War. Between the honor culture of the South and the easily provoked feelings of all, Congressmen came to the floor armed with knives, guns, canes, and bare-knuckles. "You're a liar" was cause for a duel. Not a good moment in our nation's history. It's a good thing we've given up the "honor culture" for no one can imagine what today's weapons might be (besides Twitter).
June 25, 2020
Interesting book on a congress that fought even more than ours does today. Of course, they used actual weapons instead of words, and the battles culminated in the Civil War. Let's hope that our congressmen and women can learn from the lessons of the past and start working together.
October 13, 2020
Hmm, this is an interesting bit of little-known history. It’s not the least bit surprising, but it does put the build up to the American Civil War in a new light.
In some ways, U.S. politics hasn’t changed much.
In some ways, U.S. politics hasn’t changed much.
January 17, 2021
Excellent read
Timely, well written, thoroughly researched. This book puts current events into perspective. I will not soon forget French, on whose experience this book is based. I highly recommended it.
Timely, well written, thoroughly researched. This book puts current events into perspective. I will not soon forget French, on whose experience this book is based. I highly recommended it.
July 29, 2019
I initially picked this book up more as a curio than a serious read. Teaching middle school history means that any violent historical anecdotes you can bring to the table tends to win you some adherents. However, as I made my way through the book, it started to become more vital.
The best history books are those that make me reframe my understanding of an era, figure, or topic. Usually, I am not blindsided by a book in this regard. I can often gauge early on whether this is a read more for pleasure or thought. However, this one caught me by surprise. While this book didn't necessarily propose a new paradigm for understanding the antebellum era, on numerous counts, it shifted my thinking, and allowed for a fuller understanding of the time.
Despite the subtle nature of these shifts, there were multiple points that stuck out:
1. Presenting a corrective of members of Congress. Rather than considering the high-flying rhetoric of Henry Clay or Daniel Webster as normative, this book offers a stark reminder of the sheer normality of the majority of Congress throughout history. If offered the question directly, I would probably recognize the truth of this statement, but left to my own devices, my mental image owes more to the legislative giants of the era. No longer, though!
2. Recognizing the ways in which Congress offers a "barometer" of the time. Freeman never argues that congressional violence is a cause of the Civil War. Rather, she argues that we should consider the violence in Congress more of a litmus test of the tipping point towards the Civil War. Congress is ultimately a microcosm of the country as a whole. As a result, the tensions in Congress offers a succinct picture of the larger issues embroiling the country. And its ill-defined goal of cooling tensions and acting as a preventative to less moderate forces ultimately fails as a result.
3. The place and purpose of duels at the time. Perhaps the most interesting single event that she interprets in the book is the Cilly-Graves duel. Not only does she offer this moment the historical import it largely deserves as a harbinger of the dysfunction to follow, she does the best job I've seen of placing the duel within its social context. That is, it is the first duel between two congressmen that actually leads to a death, and it is a duel that neither man really wanted. Instead, there were intense social pressures and key miscommunications throughout. With each man beholden to the social expectations of their respective regions (blindspots and all), there is an inevitability in the result that would not have been felt had both been Southern.
4. Lastly, placing today's Congress within historical perspective. Many people have made the comment that they often wonder if any other Congress has misbehaved as much as our current one has. Reading through the violence of prior generations allows for a sigh of relief. While I see the point, and agree that things have been worse, I find more to frighten me than reassure me here. If we take Freeman's thesis of Congress as microcosm seriously, the current dysfunction of our Congress is even more troubling. Rather than write-off Washington as a bunch of self-driven, unpatriotic snakes, we need to wrestle with the fact that we are just as much part of the problem. The partisanship and invective doesn't halt at the doors to the Capitol. Their polarization is ours, and simply blaming it on them, as we are apt to do, means that we are not effectively dealing with it.
Keep in mind that Freeman is still a professor. Her research is top-notch, but the book can be dry if you primarily read popular histories. But as a piece that straddles the line between popular and academic, it is lively in its own way. If you think you're up for it, I heartily recommend picking it up.
The best history books are those that make me reframe my understanding of an era, figure, or topic. Usually, I am not blindsided by a book in this regard. I can often gauge early on whether this is a read more for pleasure or thought. However, this one caught me by surprise. While this book didn't necessarily propose a new paradigm for understanding the antebellum era, on numerous counts, it shifted my thinking, and allowed for a fuller understanding of the time.
Despite the subtle nature of these shifts, there were multiple points that stuck out:
1. Presenting a corrective of members of Congress. Rather than considering the high-flying rhetoric of Henry Clay or Daniel Webster as normative, this book offers a stark reminder of the sheer normality of the majority of Congress throughout history. If offered the question directly, I would probably recognize the truth of this statement, but left to my own devices, my mental image owes more to the legislative giants of the era. No longer, though!
2. Recognizing the ways in which Congress offers a "barometer" of the time. Freeman never argues that congressional violence is a cause of the Civil War. Rather, she argues that we should consider the violence in Congress more of a litmus test of the tipping point towards the Civil War. Congress is ultimately a microcosm of the country as a whole. As a result, the tensions in Congress offers a succinct picture of the larger issues embroiling the country. And its ill-defined goal of cooling tensions and acting as a preventative to less moderate forces ultimately fails as a result.
3. The place and purpose of duels at the time. Perhaps the most interesting single event that she interprets in the book is the Cilly-Graves duel. Not only does she offer this moment the historical import it largely deserves as a harbinger of the dysfunction to follow, she does the best job I've seen of placing the duel within its social context. That is, it is the first duel between two congressmen that actually leads to a death, and it is a duel that neither man really wanted. Instead, there were intense social pressures and key miscommunications throughout. With each man beholden to the social expectations of their respective regions (blindspots and all), there is an inevitability in the result that would not have been felt had both been Southern.
4. Lastly, placing today's Congress within historical perspective. Many people have made the comment that they often wonder if any other Congress has misbehaved as much as our current one has. Reading through the violence of prior generations allows for a sigh of relief. While I see the point, and agree that things have been worse, I find more to frighten me than reassure me here. If we take Freeman's thesis of Congress as microcosm seriously, the current dysfunction of our Congress is even more troubling. Rather than write-off Washington as a bunch of self-driven, unpatriotic snakes, we need to wrestle with the fact that we are just as much part of the problem. The partisanship and invective doesn't halt at the doors to the Capitol. Their polarization is ours, and simply blaming it on them, as we are apt to do, means that we are not effectively dealing with it.
Keep in mind that Freeman is still a professor. Her research is top-notch, but the book can be dry if you primarily read popular histories. But as a piece that straddles the line between popular and academic, it is lively in its own way. If you think you're up for it, I heartily recommend picking it up.
February 28, 2021
Freeman offers a striking depiction of American government in an age when the might-makes-right morality of Southern honor culture inundated both houses of Congress with beatings, canings, duel threats, attempted assassinations, and vicious campaigns of harassment. Few other texts so expertly dissect the normalization of political terrorism throughout the first half of the 19th century.
March 1, 2020
This is an excellent and extremely readable history of violence in Congress in the decades leading up to the Civil War. The infamous caning of Charles Sumner was not an isolated incident, and Freeman does a fantastic job of showing how violence and the threat of violence were used as tools by Southern congressmen to bully Northern congressmen into silence (just as they were using the threat of secession for a long time before anyone actually seceded). Freeman explores the ideology of Southern violence (the "code of honor") and presents the logic by which Southern congressmen considered themselves the victims of "degradation" and sectional violence. And she shows Northern congressmen's fear and frustration (and the marvelous non-violent tactics of John Quincy Adams) and how that fear slowly turned into responsive violence. Northerners started physically fighting back, and she argues that Congress acted as a microcosm and a barometer, both a cause and an effect of the growing tension and mutual mistrust between North and South. Violence in Congress didn't CAUSE the Civil War, but it was part of the vicious, escalating circle that kept North and South at each other's throats.
This is also, as sort of a subplot, a biography of Benjamin Brown French (whose claim to fame today is probably that he was the uncle of Daniel Chester French, who sculpted the Lincoln Memorial). French was a lot of things, but one of them was a voluminous diarist and another was someone who, through his various jobs and political activity, had a front row seat to the goings-on in antebellum Washington D.C. She uses him as a primary source, but she also traces his political development from what was called a "doughface" (a Northern Democrat who sought to appease the South) to a fervent Republican and supporter of Lincoln, due in no small part to the way he witnessed Southern and Northern congressmen behaving from the late 1830s through to the outbreak of war. French is a method for her to maintain continuity of narrative even as her cast of Congressional characters come and go, and although I'm reluctant to play the Everyman card, French is a profoundly ordinary man, vain and a little gullible and not very good at self-reflection (though extraordinarily energetic), and his journey offers an intimate look at how what happened in Congress affected the people of the United States.
This is also, as sort of a subplot, a biography of Benjamin Brown French (whose claim to fame today is probably that he was the uncle of Daniel Chester French, who sculpted the Lincoln Memorial). French was a lot of things, but one of them was a voluminous diarist and another was someone who, through his various jobs and political activity, had a front row seat to the goings-on in antebellum Washington D.C. She uses him as a primary source, but she also traces his political development from what was called a "doughface" (a Northern Democrat who sought to appease the South) to a fervent Republican and supporter of Lincoln, due in no small part to the way he witnessed Southern and Northern congressmen behaving from the late 1830s through to the outbreak of war. French is a method for her to maintain continuity of narrative even as her cast of Congressional characters come and go, and although I'm reluctant to play the Everyman card, French is a profoundly ordinary man, vain and a little gullible and not very good at self-reflection (though extraordinarily energetic), and his journey offers an intimate look at how what happened in Congress affected the people of the United States.
March 9, 2019
So, if you think the tension and friction between Republicans and Democrats in the U.S. Congress is bad today, you need to read this book. The infighting that we see going on now is nothing compared to what it was back in antebellum times in this country. Actual physical fighting on the floors of Congress during the 1850's was fairly commonplace. Congressmen, both Representatives and Senators would come to the floor armed with knives and pistols. Fortunately, the fighting usually involved fisticuffs, canes, and chairs rather than knives and pistols. Picture a baseball game where the pitcher beans a batter and both benches empty - this was what occurred fairly often in the halls of Congress in the years leading up to the Civil War. If you are interested in American History, especially around the time of the Civil War, you will enjoy this book.
December 16, 2019
I had read stories about violence in Congress, particularly the infamous caning of Charles Sumner by "Bully" Brooks in 1856. But I had no idea of the pervasiveness of not just physical but verbal abuse heaped upon our U.S. representatives by angry fellow members of Congress. Using extensive quotes from primary documents, the author discusses how there was, in essence a mini Civil War taking place in Congress well before the actual event. It's riveting reading, although cringeworthy when you read about the lack of any kind of compromise or even civil discourse among men with, granted, quite different views on slavery and law and its applications in America. Reading this book, I can see that the inevitability of the Union breaking apart was quite obvious. An eye-opening book that helped increase my knowledge of this part of American history.
January 8, 2019
I had to start and stop this book several times because at first it just seemed like a meaningless tour through random fights, but I a really glad I stuck with it because it got super interesting in the run up to the Civil War. So I guess I wish the intro had laid out the big claims, which is that the "war" began through duels and fights in Congress. And Freeman tells a really vivid and funny and tragic story of the players involved. The south had a strict code of honor and the northerners were known to back down from duels and fights--and then they didn't. They fought back and they had to to show the south they were serious. It really explores the uses and misuses of violence and threats of violence. And then there are times when I just rolled my eyes and thought "ugh. men!"
April 14, 2020
3.5 stars. As historical nonfiction, there is a large amount of people and events to wade through, ponder, analyze, and remember. A worthwhile, slower read, for me.
October 24, 2018
So much of what we learn from Dr. Freeman’s “The Field of Blood: Violence in the Congress and the Road to Civil War” is relevant to today’s Congress that I shudder to think of what could happen were US legislators today allowed to pack guns on their bodies in either the House of Representatives or the Senate, as they were allowed to do in the 19th century.
Many of the ingredients for civil war in the 19th century are there again: refusal to compromise between party factions, incentives to back up strong words with stronger medicine (“Lock her up!”), and powerful outside interests to keep the warring factions apart.
Few Americans today recall that their early representatives fought physically in the houses of Congress, that they sat and spat tobacco juice from their chairs sometimes hitting, sometimes missing their targets, and that they legislated well into the night sometimes so thoroughly intoxicated that they spread themselves out over their desks.
In some ways, the American Civil War had several dress rehearsals in Congress: men fought and yelled and bullied each other. Southerners bullied some northerners into duels, caned them when they wouldn’t yield, and insulted them to feed the frenzy.
They fought on the floor of the House, they attacked one another outside the Capitol on the streets of Washington, and they abused them while at a meal or drinking session in public houses.
The institution of slavery was the source of many disputes and they did not wait very long after Confederation before they came front and centre to the operation of government.
The American experiment grew quickly: many new states came into being not long after the original ink was dry. With new states inevitably came the question of whether they were to be free or slave states. John Quincy Adams, only the sixth US President, stayed on after his Presidential term in office (1825-1829) in the House of Representatives and repeatedly fought the “gag rules” intended to prevent a discussion to ban slavery in the United States.
I picked up this work because I am thoroughly engrossed in the question of why were southerners so intent on perpetuating violence against their former slaves. This volume held some hints.
For one thing, the culture of a code of honour prevented southerners from forgetting that their birthright had been stolen from them. They continued to believe that the blacks were inferior to them and it enraged many that after the 1860’s blacks were equal to them before the law.
But it is also so because violence was so common and in many ways acceptable behaviour when one was wronged. This culture seeped into the American response to aboriginal groups no less than against the imported black population.
And that undercurrent of violence feeds present obsession with the Second Amendment, the right to bear arms.
Violence came with the untethered frontier, but it was not only the frontier where men were expected to defend the homestead. It happened wherever personal or state rights were believed under threat.
The presence of bullying and violence in the national capitol led me to ask a question Dr. Freemen does not broach in this book: given the culture of intimidation present, how good were American legislators during this period? There was no parallel experiment in operation during the same years, although we Canadians and our Australian cousins had similar institutions of self government on the frontier.
That Civil War actually broke out leads us to the conclusion that they ultimately failed, either because they were poor legislators, or because the early framers of the Constitution stacked the deck against them. Because States’ right were so integral to the system, Civil War was bound to develop eventually.
And that very same structure today inhibits US governments from acting in concert with other nations to slow global warming. That goose called “sovereignty” will cook us all.
Many of the ingredients for civil war in the 19th century are there again: refusal to compromise between party factions, incentives to back up strong words with stronger medicine (“Lock her up!”), and powerful outside interests to keep the warring factions apart.
Few Americans today recall that their early representatives fought physically in the houses of Congress, that they sat and spat tobacco juice from their chairs sometimes hitting, sometimes missing their targets, and that they legislated well into the night sometimes so thoroughly intoxicated that they spread themselves out over their desks.
In some ways, the American Civil War had several dress rehearsals in Congress: men fought and yelled and bullied each other. Southerners bullied some northerners into duels, caned them when they wouldn’t yield, and insulted them to feed the frenzy.
They fought on the floor of the House, they attacked one another outside the Capitol on the streets of Washington, and they abused them while at a meal or drinking session in public houses.
The institution of slavery was the source of many disputes and they did not wait very long after Confederation before they came front and centre to the operation of government.
The American experiment grew quickly: many new states came into being not long after the original ink was dry. With new states inevitably came the question of whether they were to be free or slave states. John Quincy Adams, only the sixth US President, stayed on after his Presidential term in office (1825-1829) in the House of Representatives and repeatedly fought the “gag rules” intended to prevent a discussion to ban slavery in the United States.
I picked up this work because I am thoroughly engrossed in the question of why were southerners so intent on perpetuating violence against their former slaves. This volume held some hints.
For one thing, the culture of a code of honour prevented southerners from forgetting that their birthright had been stolen from them. They continued to believe that the blacks were inferior to them and it enraged many that after the 1860’s blacks were equal to them before the law.
But it is also so because violence was so common and in many ways acceptable behaviour when one was wronged. This culture seeped into the American response to aboriginal groups no less than against the imported black population.
And that undercurrent of violence feeds present obsession with the Second Amendment, the right to bear arms.
Violence came with the untethered frontier, but it was not only the frontier where men were expected to defend the homestead. It happened wherever personal or state rights were believed under threat.
The presence of bullying and violence in the national capitol led me to ask a question Dr. Freemen does not broach in this book: given the culture of intimidation present, how good were American legislators during this period? There was no parallel experiment in operation during the same years, although we Canadians and our Australian cousins had similar institutions of self government on the frontier.
That Civil War actually broke out leads us to the conclusion that they ultimately failed, either because they were poor legislators, or because the early framers of the Constitution stacked the deck against them. Because States’ right were so integral to the system, Civil War was bound to develop eventually.
And that very same structure today inhibits US governments from acting in concert with other nations to slow global warming. That goose called “sovereignty” will cook us all.
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