from the time he danced with the
Princess Victoria at a court ball in London at the age of twenty-two,
to the end of his interesting and eventful life, he was known as
"Prince John." His remarkable gifts opened the door to all that was
ultra as well as noble. He led in the ballroom, he presided at
dinners, he graced every forum, and he moved in the highest social
circles. Men marvelled at his knowledge, at his unfailing equanimity,
and at his political strength; but even to those who were spellbound
by his eloquence, or captivated by his adroit, skilful conduct of a
lawsuit, he was always "Prince John." There was not a drop of
austerity or intolerance or personal hatred in him. The Dutch blood of
his father, traced from the Princes of Orange to the days of the New
Netherland patroons, kept him within the limits of moderation if not
entirely unspotted, and his finished manners attracted the common
people as readily as they charmed the more exclusive.

John Van Buren's acceptance of Free-soilism did not emanate from a
dislike of slavery; nor did Free-soil principles root themselves
deeply in his nature. His father had opposed the admission of Texas,
and the son, in resentment of his defeat, hoping to make an
anti-slavery party dominant in the State, if not in the nation,
proclaimed his opposition to the extension of slavery. But, after the
compromise measures of 1850 had temporarily checked the movement, he
fell back into the ranks of the Hunkers, aiding President Pierce's
election, and sustaining the pro-slavery administration of Buchanan.
In after years Van Buren frequently explained his connection with the
Free-soil revolt by telling a story of the boy who was vigorously
removing an overturned load of hay at the roadside. Noticing his wild
and rapid pitching, a passer-by inquired the cause of his haste. The
boy, wiping the perspiration from his brow as he pointed to the pile
of hay, replied, "Stranger, _dad's under there_!"

But whatever reasons incited John Van Buren to unite with the
Free-soilers, so long as he advocated their principles, he was the
most brilliant crusader who sought to stay the aggressiveness of
slavery. From the moment he withdrew from the Syracuse convention, in
the autumn of 1847, until he finally accepted the compromise measures
of 1850, he was looked upon as the hope of the Barnburners and the
most dangerous foe of the Hunkers. Even Horatio Seymour was afraid of
him. He did not advocate abol