The more astute of the Douglas delegates were struck with the dismay of a new revelation.  Their cause was lost—­their party was gone.  Senator Pugh, of Ohio, resented the dictation of the advocates of slavery in a warmth of just indignation.  He thanked God that at last a bold and honest man had told the whole truth of the demands of the South.  It was now before the country that the South did demand an advanced step from the Democratic party.  He accurately traced the downfall of the Northern Democracy to her changing and growing exactions.  Taunted with their weakness, they were now told they must put their hands on their mouths and their mouths in the dust.  “Gentlemen of the South,” said Mr. Pugh, “you mistake us—­we will not do it.”

Such language had never been heard in a Democratic National Convention, and the hall was as still as a funeral.  This was Friday night, the fifth day of the convention.  “A crisis” had long been whispered of as the skeleton in the party closet.  It seemed to be at hand, and in a parliamentary uproar the “question” was vehemently demanded, but the chairman skillfully managed at length to secure an adjournment.

The “crisis” had in reality come on Thursday night, in the committee-room, in the hopeless first double report of its platform committee.  The dissolution of the convention did not take place till the Monday following.  A great party, after a vigorous and successful life of thirty years, could not die easily.  The speeches of Avery and Payne, of Yancey and Pugh, on Friday, were recognized as cries of defiance, but not yet accepted as moans of despair.  On Saturday morning.  President Buchanan’s lieutenant, William Bigler, of Pennsylvania, essayed to ride the storm and steer to a Southern victory.  But he only succeeded in securing a recommittal of both platforms to the committee.  Nothing, however, was gained by the manoeuvre.  Saturday afternoon the committee once more reported the same disagreement in slightly changed phraseology;[6] two antagonistic platforms, presenting the same sharp difference of principle—­one demanding Congressional intervention, the other declaring against it.  Then the parliamentary storm was unloosed for the remainder of that day with such fury that the chairman declared his physical inability to continue a contest with six hundred gentlemen as to who should cry the loudest, and threatened to leave the chair.  On Monday, April 30, the seventh day of the convention, a final decision was reached.  The proposal of Butler’s report simply to reaffirm the Cincinnati platform was supported by only 105 ayes to 198 noes.  Then, by 165 to 138, the convention voted to substitute the minority report for that of the majority; in other words, to adopt the Douglas non-intervention platform.

[Illustration:  W.L.  YANCEY.]