We at the Ulysses S. Grant National Historic Site in St. Louis are often asked about a log cabin that Grant built on his in-laws White Haven estate while living on the property from 1854-1859. The log cabin attracts much curiosity from visitors partly because it still stands today, but it has been moved several times and is not located on the remaining ten acres the National Park Service preserves at White Haven today. It is currently located across the street from ULSG at Grant’s Farm, an animal park attraction run by Anheuser-Busch InBev on property now owned by the Busch family. But how did it get there?
When Ulysses and Julia Grant married in 1848, Julia’s father, Frederick Dent, gave the newlywed couple roughly 80 acres of property on the northern boundary of his 850 acre White Haven estate. (St. Paul Churchyard now sits on this part of the original property and in 1946 the Daughters of The American Revolution placed a marker commemorating Grant’s presence there). When Grant resigned from the U.S. Army in 1854 and moved to the White Haven property to be with his wife and kids, he began farming fruit and vegetable crops on this land. The next year he also began constructing a log cabin for his family that would eventually turn into a four-room home. Julia Grant later recalled this experience in her Personal Memoirs:
[Ulysses] thought of a frame house, but my father most aggravatingly urged a log house, saying it would be warmer. So the great trees were felled and lay stripped of their boughs; then came the hewing which required much time and labor; then came the house-raising and a great luncheon. A neat frame house, I am sure, could have been put up in half the time and at less expense. We went to this house before it was finished and lived in it scarcely three months. It was so crude and so homely I did not like it at all, but I did not say so. I got out all my pretty covers, baskets, books, etc., and tried to make it look home-like and comfortable, but this was hard to do. The little house looked so unattractive that we facetiously decided to call it Hardscrabble. [78-79]
This short-lived experience at Hardscrabble ended when Julia’s mother Ellen died in January 1857 and Frederick Dent asked the Grants to move back into White Haven, the main home on the property.
Hardscrabble remained on the White Haven property for a number of years after the Grants had lived there, but it was eventually moved to the nearby town of Webster Groves, where a real estate company conducted its business out of the home. By the turn of the twentieth century, however, Hardscrabble had fallen into disrepair. Cyrus F. Blanke, a coffee salesman eager to save the home and attract interest in his business, purchased Hardscrabble for $8,000 and moved it piece-by-piece to Forest Park in downtown St. Louis in preparation for the 1904 World’s Fair. They placed the home just east of where the St. Louis Art Museum is located today, and there the Blanke Coffee Company sold coffee to fair-goers and proudly celebrated Grant’s connection to the place.
Following the World’s Fair questions once again emerged about the log cabin’s future as the Blankes expressed no interest in maintaining or moving the home. For several years it remained in Forest Park until the Busch family purchased it in 1907 and moved it to its current location. The roughly 250 acres of land where the animal park is located was originally part of the White Haven estate when the Dents and Grants owned it, but the Busch family purchased it from a later owner in 1903, four years before adding Hardscrabble to the property. This Busch property initially functioned as a vacation home and hunting ground for the family, but in 1954 “Auggie” Busch opened “Grant’s Farm” to the public to showcase his exotic animals, offer free Budweiser beer, and give tours of Grant’s Hardscrabble cabin. This operation continues today, but unfortunately the site stopped offering tours of Hardscrabble about twenty-five years ago, so it remains quietly on display near the intersection of Grant and Gravois roads.
Major changes now appear to be coming to Grant’s Farm, however. Six of Auggie Busch’s children collectively own the property, and it was announced last week that four of the children have agreed to sell the property to the St. Louis Zoo. The zoo proposes to continue the current operation but also add a breeding ground for endangered species, a night zoo for nocturnal animals, rope courses and zip lines, and upgraded facilities. This plan is contingent upon taxpayer support of Grant’s Farm (which is currently funded through A-B InBev) and a judge’s order backing the four Busch children seeking to release the land from the family’s trust. But the situation is even more complex because one of the sons, Billy Busch, wants to keep the land in family hands and build a Kräftig Beer Brewery on the site, a plan his brother Adolphus supports. What happens next will have to be determined in court in early 2016.
Lost in all of this current conversation, however, is what might happen to U.S. Grant’s Hardscrabble log cabin. Neither the zoo or Billy Busch have commented on what they’d do with the home. Will it stay in its current location? Could it be open for interpretive tours again? Is there a chance it could be transferred to the National Park Service and moved across the street to the Ulysses S. Grant National Historic Site? I have no idea what might happen, but it will be interesting to see what develops from here. I would love to see the house opened again for tours, whether that be at its current site or moved over to ULSG.
I believe there are three basic ingredients for doing good public history work:
- A deep knowledge of historical content and methods
- An ability to effectively communicate the stuff of history to diverse audiences
- An understanding of visitor motivations – why they visit historical sites in the first place, how they construct knowledge, and what they bring with them and take away from these sites.
If we think of public history as a three-legged stool, we can see that missing any one leg will lead to the whole stool falling apart. I have recently discussed in several posts the potential consequences of leaving any one “stool leg” out of a given interpretive program. In a post about the future of historical reenacting I suggested that programs that are heavy on historical content but offer no opportunity for visitors to contribute their own meanings and perspectives to the experience run the risk of alienating future audiences from reenactments. Conversely, I pointed out in a different post this past June that programs that are light on historical content but heavy on gimmicky activities run the risk of excessively valuing fun and entertainment over understanding and respect for the past. This lesson hit me particularly hard while visiting a number of historical sites during a recent vacation to Germany, where things like historical reenactments seem unconscionable and inappropriate at most sites. And as I suggested in a paper I wrote for a panel at the National Council on Public History’s 2015 meeting, many interpretive programs have no evaluative mechanisms to allow for future program improvements or visitor feedback.
While browsing Twitter yesterday I came across an article from the team at “Museum Hack” about recent efforts to overhaul the interpretive program focus at the Heart of the Civil War Heritage Area. I have followed Museum Hack for a while and like some of their ideas, but unfortunately their program ideas for HCWHA represent what I see as the consequences of embracing excessively gimmicky activities at the expense of historical thinking and understanding.
There are two different programs under discussion here. One covers interpretation on Civil War Battlefields, while the other discusses a historic weapons exhibit within a museum setting. The underlying premise of these revised programs is that “Millennial audiences [don’t] seem to appreciate the historical significance of America’s Civil War as much as previous generations did.” They also note that HCWHA bans historical reenacting at its site. To address these problems for the first program, the Museum Hack team devised a dance routine that mimics troop movements during the battle. A video of that dance is posted on the aforementioned Museum Hack article.
The second program at the historic weapons exhibit conceives Civil War weapons as tools to be used in helping visitors “survive the Zombie Apocalypse.” Here the idea is that social media and pop culture can be utilized to attract younger audiences to Civil War history by challenging them to learn about historic weapons and then choosing one to help them fight zombies in a fashion similar to the show “The Walking Dead.”
I think there are a lot of problems with these interpretive approaches. For one, there are some unfortunate assumptions about so-called “millennials” based on bad research about the way they think about and process information. Most notably these programs assume that interpretation must be super-dooper fun and entertaining in order for young people to be interested in them, and that the old, stuffy way of doing history will not be of any interest to them. “Let’s face it, you ARE competing with Snapchat, Facebook, and Twitter,” the team argues. This dichotomy, however, sells millennials short by underestimating their intelligence, emotion, and passion for learning about the world around them, and how technology simultaneously enhances and hinders that effort. Does a millennial need an interpretive dance on a battlefield–a place where somebody’s father, son, brother, or friend died–to understand the deathly carnage and political consequences of the Civil War? Does it not come off as a bit trivializing to talk about Civil War weapons in the context of zombie apocalypses when these weapons were designed for and contributed to the deadliest war in American history? Does a millennial need Walking Dead references and hungry zombies to get into historic weapons? And where’s any discussion of slavery or race in all of this?
To be sure, I’m all for experimenting with a range of interpretive methods. I’ve always argued that public history can’t be done with a one-size-fits-all method, and perhaps someone will get something out of these ideas. But we are living in a world that is slowly but surely being shaped by an emerging millennial generation. It is an age of Black Lives Matter protests, Confederate flags being lowered, intense violence at home and endless war abroad, and harried debates about popular government, citizenship, and belonging in the United States today. The American Civil War has much relevance to these topics and the millennials who are now making their own history. We should let that story shine through in our interpretive programs, but in these particular cases I think that story gets lost in interpretive gimmicks.
Elizabeth Keckley (1818-1907) was a talented seamstress, dressmaker, and businesswoman who became the personal dressmaker and close friend of First Lady Mary Todd Lincoln during the Civil War. The story of Keckley’s rise to such a prominent position is remarkable. Born a slave in Virginia, she experienced the worst horrors of the institution during her formative years. Her earliest recollection of slavery was witnessing a seven-year-old boy being stripped from his mother’s arms and put into a slave auction to be sold away for profit. Her father was also sold away during her childhood, and Keckley herself was subject to whippings and sexual abuse during her childhood. While living in North Carolina she was the victim of a rape that produced her only child, a boy only referred to by Keckley as “Garland’s George.” While living in St. Louis in the 1850s Keckley managed to earn enough money through her seaming and dressmaking to purchase her freedom in 1855, and shortly thereafter she made her way to Washington, D.C. to start a very profitable dressmaking business before being hired by Mrs. Lincoln at the beginning of Abraham Lincoln’s presidency.
In 1868 Keckley published a memoir of her life entitled Behind the Scenes; or, Thirty Years a Slave, and Four Years in the White House. The book is part autobiography and part analysis of the Lincoln White House. In the aftermath of Lincoln’s assassination Mary Lincoln had run into financial difficulties and a poor reputation among the public. Keckley hoped to raise money for Mrs. Lincoln and counter criticisms against her by publishing details of the Lincolns’ inner family life, but circumstances took a sad turn following the book’s release. Behind the Scenes was roundly criticized as the public disapproved of Keckley’s publishing of Mary Lincoln’s private letters, and Keckley’s clients for her dressmaking business quickly ended their patronage. She closed her business, became destitute, and in later life lived in a home for the poor.
Readers of Behind the Scenes–both then and now–often focus on Keckley’s recollections of the Lincoln White House, and several theatrical plays about the Lincoln-Keckley relationship have been written in recent years. But her life trajectory from enslavement to prominent free person of color by the outbreak of the Civil War is gripping literature, and it is this story that I want to briefly focus on with this post. Historians, biographers, and other scholars, of course must proceed with caution when analyzing the words and themes embedded in a person’s autobiography or memoir. Statements that may at first come off as factual and self-evident are in many cases subject to uncertainty and interpretation by scholars assessing a person’s life story. Any reasoned interpretation requires a scholar to put a writer’s words into context and to understand the world in which that person inhabited, lest they turn themselves into armchair psychologists. I will try to avoid that here.
“How warm is the attachment between master and slave”
Keckley’s description of life as a slave in Behind the Scenes is simultaneously riveting and complex. In the book’s preface she takes pains to warm readers that “if I have portrayed the dark side of slavery, I have also painted the bright side. The good that I have said of human servitude should be thrown into the scales with the evil that I have said of it.” She casts blame for slavery’s continuation and expansion in the United States not on the South, but on “the God of nature” (which is never clearly defined) and the Founding Fathers. In a later chapter Keckley recalls a conversation she had with a Northerner after the Civil War who expressed disbelief in the idea that she would be interested in the welfare of her former enslavers. Keckley responds that “you do not know the Southern people as well as I do–how warm is the attachment between master and slave.”
These are curious statements to make. Throughout the book the only “goods” of enslavement that she alludes to are her sense of industry and the relationship she maintained with her mother, two things she could have obtained in freedom. Certainly the relationship between master and slave wasn’t warm enough to prevent Keckley from working to purchase her freedom in 1855, nor would she have consented to reestablishing this relationship at any point after obtaining her freedom. After all, she herself paradoxically argues in the aforementioned preface that “a wrong was inflicted upon me; a cruel custom deprived me of my liberty, and since I was robbed of my dearest right, I would not have been human had I not rebelled against the robbery.” Indeed, who wouldn’t detest a system that sells your father away for cash and makes your body susceptible to rape and sexual assault without consequence to the aggressor?
Mercy for Jefferson Davis and the Confederacy
Keckley had been briefly employed by Varina Davis, wife of future Confederate President Jefferson Davis, prior to being hired by First Lady Mary Todd Lincoln. Davis had attempted to bring her South as the Davis family prepared for the secession crisis, but Keckley rejected this offer, stating that her allegiances were with the United States. Nevertheless Keckley speaks very highly of the Davis family and calls for Northerners to bestow mercy on Jefferson Davis, who was still imprisoned by U.S. forces when Behind the Scenes was published: “The years have brought many changes; and in view of these terrible changes even I, who was once a slave, who have been punished with the cruel lash, who have experienced the heart and soul tortures of a slave’s life, can say to Mr. Jefferson Davis, ‘Peace! you have suffered! Go in peace’.” What these “terrible changes” are that Keckley refers to remain a mystery to readers. Yet again a reader today can easily find these statements quite odd coming from a free woman of color who had been enslaved for the first thirty years of her life.
In a later passage Keckley recalls Abraham Lincoln saying on the day that he was assassinated that Confederate General Robert E. Lee was “a noble, noble brave man.” According to Keckley, “Mr. Lincoln was generous by nature, and though his whole heart was in the war, he could not but respect the valor of those opposed to him. His soul was too great for the narrow, selfish view of partisanship. Brave by nature himself, he honored bravery in others, even his foes.”
An important theme in Behind the Scenes
As the aforementioned quotes suggest, one of the driving themes of Elizabeth Keckley’s memoirs that might be overlooked sometimes is her argument in favor of sectional reconciliation between North and South, which in turn is informed by her identification as a proud Southerner. While Keckley strives to assure readers that she suffered under slavery and that she values her freedom, her hesitance to lay any sort of blame for the continuance and growth of slavery on pro-slavery Southern politicians or the South more generally reflects a desire to avoid what she describes as a “sweeping condemnation” of the entire region, a region that she calls home. While Keckley is not convincing in her efforts to point out “the bright side” of slavery, it is clear that she is anxious to demonstrate to readers that she refuses to play the role of victim, no matter how heinous the crimes committed against her during the days of slavery. And by pleading mercy for Jefferson Davis and portraying Abraham Lincoln as an admirer of Robert E. Lee and the valorous conduct of the Confederacy, Keckley suggests to her reading audience that sectional reconciliation is the correct path towards future prosperity for the United States. It was the path paved by Lincoln before his death, and it was the correct path going forward in Keckley’s eyes.
These are just a few observations I made after reading Elizabeth Keckley’s memoirs, which are truly fascinating. Any nineteenth century historian would benefit from reading them.
Imagine that you are an emerging museum educator about to finish a museum studies or public history degree. You have closely studied historical methods, historiography, education theory, and visitor studies. You probably worked at least one unpaid internship while taking out thousands in loans to finish your degree. Now you’re about to start applying for jobs.
You start browsing job openings online and find one that sounds almost perfect to you: K-12 Museum Educator. There is much appeal in this job. You get to work with a diverse range of students teaching them the importance of history in our daily lives. You get to teach them about the ways history is viewed through multiple perspectives and help them better understand local and national history. You get regular training and professional development as a part of your job. And you don’t have to grade papers at the end of the day!
The qualification requirements suggest that you’re probably in good shape. The museum asks that you posses at least two years of college, but a BA is preferred. You’ve got that. But then you look at the fine print, and your overpriced Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte falls to the floor: you will be paid only $9 an hour and limited to working 15-25 hours a week if you get hired for this job.
You may have just drank your last Pumpkin Spice latte.
Fortunately this sort of frustrating situation never occurred during my own search for a public history job last year, but this job posting is real and comes to you courtesy of the Missouri History Museum. And, sadly, I am sure there are many other desperate people out there who are probably going to apply for this job because they have no leverage and no other options save for abandoning the museum/public history field for other employment.
It’s a shame that so many talented and educated people are forced to live on a teenager’s wages if they hope to have a chance of breaking into this field. True, there are many small museums and institutions that are working on shoestring budgets, and perhaps–perhaps–they can be excused for relying on volunteers, unpaid interns, and/or part-time employees to keep the boat above water. But a popular, well-endowed institution like MOHIST paying its educators barely above minimum wage is simply inexcusable.
The taxpayers of St. Louis city and county give the Missouri History Museum ten million dollars a year for operating costs. The museum’s former President, Robert Archibald, ran the institution for twenty-five years and was making an annual salary of $515,000 by 2012. But then Mr. Archibald ran into trouble when an audit revealed that he and another museum board trustee spent $875,000 of the museum’s money, without an appraisal, on a tract of land that was valued by the city of St. Louis for only $232,000. A lot of taxpayers were angered when they heard that news, and eventually local politicians and the museum board forced Archibald to retire. Luckily for Mr. Archibald, however, upon retirement he cashed in his vacation days and sent in a bill for a six-month consulting project he had recently participated in, and the same museum board that called for his retirement compensated him with a cool $820,000 payout. This action also led to a lot of taxpayer head-scratching, and in order to save face the museum board announced that they would not use any taxpayer dollars for Mr. Archibald’s payout. Instead the money would unexpectedly come through private donations from people like Marian and Ethel Herr, twin sisters who regularly volunteered and collectively left $900,000 to the museum after Marian died in 2010. But museum educators? Nine bucks an hour for you! We’ll even tweet the job opening using the hashtags #museumjobs and #STLjobs to make it seem like this is a really important and highly valued position within our institution.
Whether you’re interested in teaching in a classroom, a museum, or anywhere else, you learn quickly that the closer you are to students and/or the public on a daily basis, the less money you make compared to the administrators who almost never interact with the same students or public audience. Society pays a lot of lip service to the importance of education in enriching children’s lives, but they don’t pay much money to actually do that work. The museum world is particularly guilty because they want to have their cake and eat it too. There are a record number of museum studies and public history undergrad and graduate programs in the United States today, and the opportunity to get a good education in these fields has never been easier. But with the increase in programs comes an increase in educated candidates looking for gainful employment. Credential creep occurs as more and more overqualified candidates fight for a limited number of available jobs that have not kept pace with the number of graduates on the market. Similar jobs to the one posted by MOHIST, as Kelly Gannon of Emory University pointed out to me, often provide no career track or hope of a future promotion. Wages get driven down and future museum educators find themselves fighting for crumbs. This “Yoga Instructor Economy” works great for the museum industry as a whole, but it absolutely sucks for its workers, including those interested in education.
To be sure, I actually love the Missouri History Museum. I enjoy many of their exhibits, and their work in helping to heal the St. Louis community in the aftermath of the Ferguson shooting last year should be commended. I am going for a visit within the next few days and will continue to be a regular visitor as long as I live in the St. Louis area. I also wouldn’t take away a single penny from the museum’s ten million dollars in tax revenue. But I am not just a patron of this industry – I am a worker too, and people like me who have been encouraged to dedicate our lives to history, museums, and informal education ought to be compensated in a way that allows us to put food on the table, gas in our cars, and money towards our mortgages. I am lucky to be in a good financial position with my current job, but I know so many people who are unemployed or underemployed, and I hate seeing it.
The historian Sean Wilentz wrote an op-ed for the New York Times a while back asking if the United States Constitution recognized slavery in national law prior to the Civil War. Wilentz answers “No,” and other academic historians have responded with a flurry of blog posts, articles, and tweets. There are too many to link here, but thankfully Al Mackey has already done the work of collecting most of the worthy responses on his website. The latest response to Wilentz comes from Daniel W. Crofts at the History News Network, and Dr. Crofts’ response now provokes a response from me.
Crofts focuses his essay on a second contention from Wilentz: that disagreements over the meaning of the Constitution were “the rock that split the Union in 1860-61.” Crofts counters this argument by asserting that constitutional disagreements between Northerners and Southerners only played a small role in explaining the outbreak of Civil War. Instead, he contends, the very act of Confederate secession itself was responsible for the start of the war. Most Unionists who actively supported a forceful response to secession did so not because of their anti-slavery convictions (if they had any), but because they viewed the idea of a state or states unilaterally leaving the country because their preferred candidate lost an election was a direct affront to the principles of popular government and republican rule of law. Secession set a bad precedent and imperiled the future of the United States, and these concerns largely explain the motivations underlying Unionists’ military response to the Confederacy following the firing of Fort Sumter.
While I think there’s a certain risk in arguing that secession was responsible for the war’s outbreak without also understanding how political disagreements over slavery and the constitution made secession a viable option to future Confederates in 1860-61, I believe Crofts is correct in this argument. It also lines up nicely with similar arguments made by Gary Gallagher in his book The Union War, a book I consider to be one of the finest works of scholarship published during the Civil War Sesquicentennial.
I believe Crofts takes his thesis too far, however, by embracing a common argument about secession–most recently made elsewhere by Jon Grinspan–that I call the Confederate Insanity Plea. To wit:
Blind to abundant historical evidence that war had the potential to disrupt slavery, secessionists sleepwalked heedlessly into catastrophe. The Republican Party posed no danger to slavery. But war did. Lincoln’s treasury secretary, Salmon P. Chase, observed retrospectively that white Southerners had fallen victim to collective “insanity.” Had they stayed in the Union, they might have kept slavery “for many years to come.” No party or public feeling in the North “could ever have hoped” to touch it.
This conclusion strikes me as odd – just as odd as Wilentz’s assertion that the majority of Unionists enlisted in the U.S. military to defend an antislavery interpretation of the Constitution. Of course the Republican party posted a danger to slavery. How else do you explain the coming of Confederate secession in the first place?
Although Crofts apparently also takes issue with James Oakes‘ explanation for the coming of war, I agree with Oakes. The leading Southern advocates for disunion considered secession a better option for protecting their slave property than living under a Republican government opposed to the further westward expansion of slavery. It made no difference to them that Lincoln had never advocated the complete and immediate abolition of slavery or embraced the support of radical abolitionists during his candidacy. It made no difference to them that Republicans took pains to disavow any intentions of abolishing slavery where it already existed. And it made no difference that Republicans had previously expressed their wish to maintain their Union with slaveholders. To the Fire Eaters these distinctions were meaningless because the Republicans, by preventing the westward expansion of slavery, had hoped to establish a “Cordon of Freedom” that would limit slavery’s growth and, in due time, hasten its eventual demise. Whether a Northerner proclaimed himself a Republican or an abolitionist was meaningless to secession advocates because the end goal for both was the same: the eventual end of slavery in the United States.
Although his scholarship in now dated, Allan Nevins succinctly captured one fundamental issue for secessionists about the Republicans: “Was the Negro to be allowed, as a result of the shift of power signalized by Lincoln’s election, to take the first step toward an ultimate position of general economic, political, and social equality with the white man? Or was he to be held immobile in a degraded, servile position?” (470-471)
The first state to secede following the 1860 election was South Carolina, and their Declaration of Secession clearly views the Republican party as a threat to slavery:
For twenty-five years this agitation has been steadily increasing, until it has now secured to its aid the power of the common Government. Observing the forms of the Constitution, a sectional party has found within that Article establishing the Executive Department, the means of subverting the Constitution itself. A geographical line has been drawn across the Union, and all the States north of that line have united in the election of a man to the high office of President of the United States, whose opinions and purposes are hostile to slavery. He is to be entrusted with the administration of the common Government, because he has declared that that “Government cannot endure permanently half slave, half free,” and that the public mind must rest in the belief that slavery is in the course of ultimate extinction.
This sectional combination for the submersion of the Constitution, has been aided in some of the States by elevating to citizenship, persons who, by the supreme law of the land, are incapable of becoming citizens; and their votes have been used to inaugurate a new policy, hostile to the South, and destructive of its beliefs and safety.
On the 4th day of March next, this party will take possession of the Government. It has announced that the South shall be excluded from the common territory, that the judicial tribunals shall be made sectional, and that a war must be waged against slavery until it shall cease throughout the United States.
The guaranties of the Constitution will then no longer exist; the equal rights of the States will be lost. The slaveholding States will no longer have the power of self-government, or self-protection, and the Federal Government will have become their enemy.
To simply attribute the concerns of leading secessionists to the machinations of “insanity” is flawed. The insanity argument is an exercise in excuse-making that denies agency to leading Confederates in the choice for disunion, and it minimizes the importance of their own words in Declarations of Secession such as the one above. Secession was not the result of insane reasoning but deliberate, calculated thinking that matured over years of sectional conflict over slavery and the nature of the Union. Actions occur only when you first perceive that action is necessary, and whether or not secessionist perceptions of the Republican party were truly accurate is not so important as understanding that those perceptions led to calculated actions with deadly consequences.
Finally, while scholars today looking back in hindsight can agree with Crofts by seeing secession’s failure as hastening slavery’s destruction, we might choose to qualify that statement by stressing that few people at the outbreak of the war could have predicted that such an outcome would enact so much change in four years. Secession did not automatically guarantee slavery’s demise because the end results of secession could have played out in any number of ways. A successful Confederate effort would have perpetuated slavery indefinitely, and even an unsuccessful effort could have maintained slavery; had George McClellan’s Peninsula Campaign of 1862 succeeded in ending the rebellion, slavery could have arguably continued where it already existed and been protected under the Lincoln administration (see Glenn David Brasher’s recent work on African Americans and the Peninsula Campaign for further discussion). Changing circumstances on the battlefield and the ever-evolving views of the Republican party towards slavery, however, contributed to the institution’s destruction. That the Lincoln administration eventually embraced emancipation as a war aim and passed the thirteenth amendment abolishing slavery, both with the popular support of loyal Unionists, must also be considered as crucial factors in the end of slavery in addition to the act of secession itself.
So, to recap, repeat, and TL,DR: Crofts is correct in asserting that the act of secession motivated Unionists to enlist in the U.S. military in 1861 more so than any sort of antislavery conviction or constitutional interpretation, but I think he errs in dismissing Confederate secession as an act of insanity and asserting that the Republican party posed no threat to slavery because they had promised to protect it where it had already existed.