Until 1854, it was the obvious part of wisdom for Southerners to
cooperate as far as possible with that party whose cardinal idea
was that the government should come as near as conceivable to a
system of non-interference; that it should not interfere with
business, and therefore oppose a tariff; that it should not
interfere with local government, and therefore applaud states
rights; that it should not interfere with slavery, and therefore
frown upon militant abolition. Its policy was, to adopt a
familiar phrase, one of masterly inactivity. Indeed it may well
be called the party of political evasion. It was a huge, loose
confederacy of differing political groups, embracing paupers and
millionaires, moderate anti-slavery men and slave barons, all of
whom were held together by the unreliable bond of an agreement
not to tread on each other's toes.

Of this party Douglas was the typical representative, both in
strength and weakness. He had all its pliability, its good
humor, its broad and easy way with things, its passion for
playing politics. Nevertheless, in calling upon the believers in
political evasion to consent for this once to reverse their
principle and to endorse a positive action, he had taken a great
risk. Would their sporting sense of politics as a gigantic game
carry him through successfully? He knew that there was a hard
fight before him, but with the courage of a great political
strategist, and proudly confident in his hold upon the main body
of his party, he prepared for both the attacks and the defections
that were inevitable.

Defections, indeed, began at once. Even before the bill had been