DUEL BETWEEN MR. CLAY AND MR. RANDOLPH.
It was Saturday, the first day of April, towards noon, the Senate
not being that day in session, that Mr. Randolph came to my room at
Brown's Hotel, and (without explaining the reason of the question)
asked me if I was a blood-relation of Mrs. Clay? I answered that I
was, and he immediately replied that that put an end to a request
which he had wished to make of me; and then went on to tell me that
he had just received a challenge from Mr. Clay, had accepted it, was
ready to go out, and would apply to Col. Tatnall to be his second.
Before leaving, he told me he would make my bosom the depository of
a secret which he should commit to no other person: it was, that
he did not intend to fire at Mr. Clay. He told it to me because he
wanted a witness of his intention, and did not mean to tell it to
his second or any body else; and enjoined inviolable secrecy until
the duel was over. This was the first notice I had of the affair.
The circumstances of the delivery of the challenge I had from Gen.
Jesup, Mr. Clay's second, and they were so perfectly characteristic
of Mr. Randolph that I give them in detail, and in the General's own
words:
"I was unable to see Mr. Randolph until the morning of the 1st
of April, when I called on him for the purpose of delivering the
note. Previous to presenting it however, I thought it proper
to ascertain from Mr. Randolph himself whether the information
which Mr. Clay had received--that he considered himself
personally accountable for the attack on him--was correct. I
accordingly informed Mr. Randolph that I was the bearer of a
message from Mr. Clay, in consequence of an attack which he
had made upon his private as well as public character in the
Senate; that I was aware no one had the right to question him
out of the Senate for any thing said in debate, unless he chose
voluntarily to waive his privileges as a member of that body.
Mr. Randolph replied, that the constitution did protect him,
but he would never shield himself under such a subterfuge as
the pleading of his privilege as a senator from Virginia; that
he did hold himself accountable to Mr. Clay; but he said that
gentleman had first two pledges to redeem: one that he had bound
himself to fight any member of the House of Representatives, who
should acknowledge himself the author of a certain publication
in a Philadelphia paper; and the other that he stood pledged
to establish certain facts in regard to a great man, whom he
would not name; but, he added he could receive no verbal message
from Mr. Clay--that any message from him must be in writing.
I replied that I was not authorized by Mr. Clay to enter
into or receive any verbal explanations--that the inquiries
I had made were for my own satisfaction and upon my own
responsibility--that the only message of which I was the bearer
was in writing. I then presented the note, and remarked that I
knew nothing of Mr. Clay's pledges; but that if they existed as
he (Mr. Randolph) understood them, and he was aware of them when
he made the attack complained of, he could not avail himself of
them--that by making the attack I thought he had waived them
himself. He said he had not the remotest intention of taking
advantage of the pledges referred to; that he had mentioned them
merely to remind me that he was waiving his privilege, not only
as a senator from Virginia, but as a private gentleman; that he
was ready to respond to Mr. Clay, and would be obliged to me if
I would bear his note in reply; and that he would in the course
of the day look out for a friend. I declined being the bearer
of his note, but informed him my only reason for declining was,
that I thought he owed it to himself to consult his friends
before taking so important a step. He seized my hand, saying,
'You are right, sir. I thank you for the suggestion: but as you
do not take my note, you must not be impatient if you should not
hear from me to-day. I now think of only two friends, and there
are circumstances connected with one of them which may deprive
me of his services, and the other is in bad health--he was sick
yesterday, and may not be out to-day.' I assured him that any
reasonable time which he might find necessary to take would be
satisfactory. I took leave of him; and it is due to his memory
to say that his bearing was, throughout the interview, that of a
high-toned, chivalrous gentleman of the old school."
These were the circumstances of the delivery of the challenge,
and the only thing necessary to give them their character is to
recollect that, with this prompt acceptance and positive refusal
to explain, and this extra cut about the two pledges, there was a
perfect determination not to fire at Mr. Clay. That determination
rested on two grounds; first, an entire unwillingness to hurt Mr.
Clay; and, next, a conviction that to return the fire would be to
answer, and would be an implied acknowledgment of Mr. Clay's right
to make him answer. This he would not do, neither by implication
nor in words. He denied the right of any person to question him out
of the Senate for words spoken within it. He took a distinction
between man and senator. As senator he had a constitutional
immunity, given for a wise purpose, and which he would neither
surrender nor compromise; as individual he was ready to give
satisfaction for what was deemed an injury. He would receive, but
not return a fire. It was as much as to say: Mr. Clay may fire at
me for what has offended him; I will not, by returning the fire,
admit his right to do so. This was a subtle distinction, and that in
case of life and death, and not very clear to the common intellect;
but to Mr. Randolph both clear and convincing. His allusion to
the "two pledges unredeemed," which he might have plead in bar to
Mr. Clay's challenge, and would not, was another sarcastic cut
at Mr. Adams and Mr. Clay, while rendering satisfaction for cuts
already given. The "member of the House" was Mr. George Kremer,
of Pennsylvania, who, at the time of the presidential election in
the House of Representatives, had avowed himself to be the author
of an anonymous publication, the writer of which Mr. Clay had
threatened to call to account if he would avow himself--and did not.
The "great man" was President Adams, with whom Mr. Clay had had a
newspaper controversy, involving a question of fact,--which had been
postponed. The cause of this sarcastic cut, and of all the keen
personality in the Panama speech, was the belief that the President
and Secretary, the latter especially, encouraged the newspapers in
their interest to attack him, which they did incessantly; and he
chose to overlook the editors and retaliate upon the instigators, as
he believed them to be. This he did to his heart's content in that
speech--and to their great annoyance, as the coming of the challenge
proved. The "two friends" alluded to were Col. Tatnall and myself,
and the circumstances which might disqualify one of the two were
those of my relationship to Mrs. Clay, of which he did not know
the degree, and whether of affinity or consanguinity--considering
the first no obstacle, the other a complete bar to my appearing as
his second--holding, as he did, with the tenacity of an Indian, to
the obligations of blood, and laying but little stress on marriage
connections. His affable reception and courteous demeanor to Gen.
Jesup were according to his own high breeding, and the decorum
which belonged to such occasions. A duel in the circle to which he
belonged was "an affair of honor;" and high honor, according to its
code, must pervade every part of it. General Jesup had come upon
an unpleasant business. Mr. Randolph determined to put him at his
ease; and did it so effectually as to charm him into admiration. The
whole plan of his conduct, down to contingent details, was cast in
his mind instantly, as if by intuition, and never departed from. The
acceptance, the refusal to explain, the determination not to fire,
the first and second choice of a friend, and the circumstances which
might disqualify one and delay the other, the additional cut, and
the resolve to fall, if he fell, on the soil of Virginia--was all,
to his mind, a single emanation, the flash of an instant. He needed
no consultations, no deliberations to arrive at all these important
conclusions. I dwell upon these small circumstances because they are
characteristic, and show the man--a man who belongs to history, and
had his own history, and should be known as he was. That character
can only be shown in his own conduct, his own words and acts: and
this duel with Mr. Clay illustrates it at many points. It is in
that point of view that I dwell upon circumstances which might seem
trivial, but which are not so, being illustrative of character and
significant to their smallest particulars.
The acceptance of the challenge was in keeping with the whole
proceeding--prompt in the agreement to meet, exact in protesting
against the _right_ to call him out, clear in the waiver of his
constitutional privilege, brief and cogent in presenting the case as
one of some reprehension--the case of a member of an administration
challenging a senator for words spoken in debate of that
administration; and all in brief, terse, and superlatively decorous
language. It ran thus:
"Mr. Randolph accepts the challenge of Mr. Clay. At the same
time he protests against the _right_ of any minister of
the Executive Government of the United States to hold him
responsible for words spoken in debate, as a senator from
Virginia, in crimination of such minister, or the administration
under which he shall have taken office. Colonel Tatnall, of
Georgia, the bearer of this letter, is authorized to arrange
with General Jesup (the bearer of Mr. Clay's challenge) the
terms of the meeting to which Mr. Randolph is invited by that
note."
This _protest_ which Mr. Randolph entered against the right of
Mr. Clay to challenge him, led to an explanation between their
mutual friends on that delicate point--a point which concerned the
independence of debate, the privileges of the Senate, the immunity
of a member, and the sanctity of the constitution. It was a point
which Mr. Clay felt; and the explanation which was had between
the mutual friends presented an excuse, if not a justification,
for his proceeding. He had been informed that Mr. Randolph, in
his speech, had avowed his responsibility to Mr. Clay, and waived
his privilege--a thing which, if it had been done, would have
been a defiance, and stood for an invitation to Mr. Clay to send
a challenge. Mr. Randolph, through Col. Tatnall, disavowed that
imputed avowal, and confined his waiver of privilege to the time of
the delivery of the challenge, and in answer to an inquiry before it
was delivered.
The following are the communications between the respective seconds
on this point:
"In regard to the _protest_ with which Mr. Randolph's note
concludes, it is due to Mr. Clay to say that he had been
informed Mr. Randolph did, and would, hold himself responsible
to him for any observations he might make in relation to him;
and that I (Gen. Jesup) distinctly understood from Mr. Randolph,
before I delivered the note of Mr. Clay, that he waived his
privilege as a senator."
To this Col. Tatnall replied:
"As this expression (did and would hold himself responsible,
&c.) may be construed to mean that Mr. Randolph had given this
intimation not only before called upon, but in such a manner as
to throw out to Mr. Clay something like an invitation to make
such a call, I have, on the part of Mr. Randolph, to disavow
any disposition, when expressing his readiness to waive his
privilege as a senator from Virginia, to invite, in any case,
a call upon him for personal satisfaction. The concluding
paragraph of your note, I presume, is intended to show merely
that you did not present a note, such as that of Mr. Clay to Mr.
Randolph, until you had ascertained his willingness to waive
his privilege as a senator. This I infer, as it was in your
recollection that the expression of such a readiness on the part
of Mr. Randolph was in reply to an inquiry on that point made by
yourself."
Thus an irritating circumstance in the affair was virtually
negatived, and its offensive import wholly disavowed. For my part, I
do not believe that Mr. Randolph used such language in his speech.
I have no recollection of having heard it. The published report of
the speech, as taken down by the reporters and not revised by the
speaker, contains nothing of it. Such gasconade was foreign to
Mr. Randolph's character. The occasion was not one in which these
sort of defiances are thrown out, which are either to purchase a
cheap reputation when it is known they will be despised, or to
get an advantage in extracting a challenge when there is a design
to kill. Mr. Randolph had none of these views with respect to Mr.
Clay. He had no desire to fight him, or to hurt him, or gain cheap
character by appearing to bully him. He was above all that, and had
settled accounts with him in his speech, and wanted no more. I do
not believe it was said; but there was a part of the speech which
might have received a wrong application, and led to the erroneous
report: a part which applied to a quoted passage in Mr. Adams's
Panama message, which he condemned and denounced, and dared the
President and his friends to defend. His words were, as reported
unrevised: "Here I plant my foot; here I fling defiance right into
his (the President's) teeth; here I throw the gauntlet to him and
the bravest of his compeers to come forward and defend these lines,"
&c. A very palpable defiance this, but very different from a summons
to personal combat, and from what was related to Mr. Clay. It was an
unfortunate report, doubtless the effect of indistinct apprehension,
and the more to be regretted as, after having been a main cause
inducing the challenge, the disavowal could not stop it.
Thus the agreement for the meeting was absolute; and, according
to the expectation of the principals, the meeting itself would be
immediately; but their seconds, from the most laudable feelings,
determined to delay it, with the hope to prevent it, and did keep
it off a week, admitting me to a participation in the good work,
as being already privy to the affair and friendly to both parties.
The challenge stated no specific ground of offence, specified
no exceptionable words. It was peremptory and general, for an
"unprovoked attack on his (Mr. Clay's) character," and it dispensed
with explanations by alleging that the notoriety and indisputable
existence of the injury superseded the necessity for them. Of
course this demand was bottomed on a report of the words spoken--a
verbal report, the full daily publication of the debates having not
then begun--and that verbal report was of a character greatly to
exasperate Mr. Clay. It stated that in the course of the debate Mr.
Randolph said:
"That a letter from General Salazar, the Mexican Minister at
Washington, submitted by the Executive to the Senate, bore
the ear-mark of having been manufactured or forged by the
Secretary of State, and denounced the administration as a
corrupt coalition between the puritan and blackleg; and added,
at the same time, that he (Mr. Randolph) held himself personally
responsible for all that he had said."
This was the report to Mr. Clay, and upon which he gave the absolute
challenge, and received the absolute acceptance, which shut out all
inquiry between the principals into the causes of the quarrel. The
seconds determined to open it, and to attempt an accommodation, or a
peaceable determination of the difficulty. In consequence, General
Jesup stated the complaint in a note to Col. Tatnall, thus:
"The injury of which Mr. Clay complains consists in this, that
Mr. Randolph has charged him with having forged or manufactured
a paper connected with the Panama mission; also, that he
has applied to him in debate the epithet of blackleg. The
explanation which I consider necessary is, that Mr. Randolph
declare that he had no intention of charging Mr. Clay, either
in his public or private capacity, with forging or falsifying
any paper, or misrepresenting any fact; and also that the term
blackleg was not intended to apply to him."
To this exposition of the grounds of the complaint, Col. Tatnall
answered:
"Mr. Randolph informs me that the words used by him in
debate were as follows: 'That I thought it would be in my
power to show evidence sufficiently presumptive to satisfy a
Charlotte (county) jury that this invitation was manufactured
here--that Salazar's letter struck me as bearing a strong
likeness in point of style to the other papers. I did not
undertake to prove this, but expressed my suspicion that the
fact was so. I applied to the administration the epithet,
puritanic-diplomatic-black-legged administration.' Mr. Randolph,
in giving these words as those uttered by him in debate, is
unwilling to afford any explanation as to their meaning and
application."
In this answer Mr. Randolph remained upon his original ground of
refusing to answer out of the Senate for words spoken within it. In
other respects the statement of the words actually spoken greatly
ameliorated the offensive report, the coarse and insulting words,
"_forging and falsifying_," being disavowed, as in fact they were
not used, and are not to be found in the published report. The
speech was a bitter philippic, and intended to be so, taking for
its point the alleged coalition between Mr. Clay and Mr. Adams with
respect to the election, and their efforts to get up a popular
question contrary to our policy of non-entanglement with foreign
nations, in sending ministers to the congress of the American
states of Spanish origin at the Isthmus of Panama. I heard it all,
and, though sharp and cutting, I think it might have been heard,
had he been present, without any manifestation of resentment by
Mr. Clay. The part which he took so seriously to heart, that of
having the Panama invitations manufactured in his office, was to my
mind nothing more than attributing to him a diplomatic superiority
which enabled him to obtain from the South American ministers the
invitations that he wanted; and not at all that they were spurious
fabrications. As to the expression, "_blackleg and puritan_," it was
merely a sarcasm to strike by antithesis, and which, being without
foundation, might have been disregarded. I presented these views to
the parties, and if they had come from Mr. Randolph they might have
been sufficient; but he was inexorable, and would not authorize a
word to be said beyond what he had written.
All hope of accommodation having vanished, the seconds proceeded
to arrange for the duel. The afternoon of Saturday, the 8th of
April, was fixed upon for the time; the right bank of the Potomac,
within the State of Virginia, above the Little Falls bridge, was
the place,--pistols the weapons,--distance ten paces; each party
to be attended by two seconds and a surgeon, and myself at liberty
to attend as a mutual friend. There was to be no practising with
pistols, and there was none; and the words "one," "two," "three,"
"stop," after the word "fire," were, by agreement between the
seconds, and for the humane purpose of reducing the result as
near as possible to chance, to be given out in quick succession.
The Virginia side of the Potomac was taken at the instance of Mr.
Randolph. He went out as a Virginia senator, refusing to compromise
that character, and, if he fell in defence of its rights, Virginia
soil was to him the chosen ground to receive his blood. There was a
statute of the State against duelling within her limits; but, as he
merely went out to receive a fire without returning it, he deemed
that no fighting, and consequently no breach of her statute. This
reason for choosing Virginia could only be explained to me, as I
alone was the depository of his secret.
The week's delay which the seconds had contrived was about expiring.
It was Friday evening, or rather night, when I went to see Mr. Clay
for the last time before the duel. There had been some alienation
between us since the time of the presidential election in the House
of Representatives, and I wished to give evidence that there was
nothing personal in it. The family were in the parlor--company
present--and some of it staid late. The youngest child, I believe
James, went to sleep on the sofa--a circumstance which availed me
for a purpose the next day. Mrs. Clay was, as always since the death
of her daughters, the picture of desolation, but calm, conversable,
and without the slightest apparent consciousness of the impending
event. When all were gone, and she also had left the parlor, I did
what I came for, and said to Mr. Clay, that, notwithstanding our
late political differences, my personal feelings towards him were
the same as formerly, and that, in whatever concerned his life or
honor my best wishes were with him. He expressed his gratification
at the visit and the declaration, and said it was what he would have
expected of me. We parted at midnight.
Saturday, the 8th of April--the day for the duel--had come, and
almost the hour. It was noon, and the meeting was to take place at
4-1/2 o'clock. I had gone to see Mr. Randolph before the hour, and
for a purpose; and, besides, it was so far on the way, as he lived
half way to Georgetown, and we had to pass through that place to
cross the Potomac into Virginia at the Little Falls bridge. I had
heard nothing from him on the point of not returning the fire since
the first communication to that effect, eight days before. I had
no reason to doubt the steadiness of his determination, but felt
a desire to have fresh assurance of it after so many days' delay,
and so near approach of the trying moment. I knew it would not do
to ask him the question--any question which would imply a doubt of
his word. His sensitive feelings would be hurt and annoyed at it.
So I fell upon a scheme to get at the inquiry without seeming to
make it. I told him of my visit to Mr. Clay the night before--of
the late sitting--the child asleep--the unconscious tranquillity
of Mrs. Clay; and added, I could not help reflecting how different
all that might be the next night. He understood me perfectly,
and immediately said, with a quietude of look and expression
which seemed to rebuke an unworthy doubt, "_I shall do nothing to
disturb the sleep of the child or the repose of the mother_," and
went on with his employment--(his seconds being engaged in their
preparations in a different room)--which was, making codicils to his
will, all in the way of remembrance to friends; the bequests slight
in value, but invaluable in tenderness of feeling and beauty of
expression, and always appropriate to the receiver. To Mr. Macon he
gave some English shillings, to keep the game when he played whist.
His namesake, John Randolph Bryan, then at school in Baltimore, and
since married to his niece, had been sent for to see him, but sent
off before the hour for going out, to save the boy from a possible
shock at seeing him brought back. He wanted some gold--that coin
not being then in circulation, and only to be obtained by favor or
purchase--and sent his faithful man, Johnny, to the United States
Branch Bank to get a few pieces, American being the kind asked for.
Johnny returned without the gold, and delivered the excuse that the
bank had none. Instantly Mr. Randolph's clear silver-toned voice was
heard above its natural pitch, exclaiming, "Their name is legion!
and they are liars from the beginning. Johnny, bring me my horse."
His own saddle-horse was brought him--for he never rode Johnny's,
nor Johnny his, though both, and all his hundred horses, were of the
finest English blood--and rode off to the bank down Pennsylvania
avenue, now Corcoran & Riggs's--Johnny following, as always, forty
paces behind. Arrived at the bank, this scene, according to my
informant, took place:
"Mr. Randolph asked for the state of his account, was shown it,
and found to be some four thousand dollars in his favor. He
asked for it. The teller took up packages of bills, and civilly
asked in what sized notes he would have it. 'I want money,' said
Mr. Randolph, putting emphasis on the word; and at that time it
required a bold man to intimate that United States Bank notes
were not money. The teller, beginning to understand him, and
willing to make sure, said, inquiringly, 'You want silver?' 'I
want my money!' was the reply. Then the teller, lifting boxes to
the counter, said politely: 'Have you a cart, Mr. Randolph, to
put it in?' 'That is my business, sir,' said he. By that time
the attention of the cashier (Mr. Richard Smith) was attracted
to what was going on, who came up, and understanding the
question, and its cause, told Mr. Randolph there was a mistake
in the answer given to his servant; that they had gold, and he
should have what he wanted."
In fact, he had only applied for a few pieces, which he wanted for
a special purpose. This brought about a compromise. The pieces of
gold were received, the cart and the silver dispensed with; but
the account in bank was closed, and a check taken for the amount
on New-York. He returned and delivered me a sealed paper, which I
was to open if he was killed--give back to him if he was not; also
an open slip, which I was to read before I got to the ground. This
slip was a request to feel in his left breeches pocket, if he was
killed, and find so many pieces of gold--I believe nine--take three
for myself, and give the same number to Tatnall and Hamilton each,
to make seals to wear in remembrance of him. We were all three at
Mr. Randolph's lodgings then, and soon set out, Mr. Randolph and his
seconds in a carriage, I following him on horseback.
I have already said that the count was to be quick after giving
the word "fire," and for a reason which could not be told to the
principals. To Mr. Randolph, who did not mean to fire, and who,
though agreeing to be shot at, had no desire to be hit, this
rapidity of counting out the time and quick arrival at the command
"stop" presented no objection. With Mr. Clay it was different. With
him it was all a real transaction, and gave rise to some proposal
for more deliberateness in counting off the time; which being
communicated to Col. Tatnall, and by him to Mr. Randolph, had an ill
effect upon his feelings, and, aided by an untoward accident on the
ground, unsettled for a moment the noble determination which he had
formed not to fire at Mr. Clay. I now give the words of Gen. Jesup:
"When I repeated to Mr. Clay the 'word' in the manner in which
it would be given, he expressed some apprehension that, as he
was not accustomed to the use of the pistol, he might not be
able to fire within the time, and for that reason alone desired
that it might be prolonged. I mentioned to Col. Tatnall the
desire of Mr. Clay. He replied, 'If you insist upon it, the time
must be prolonged, but I should very much regret it.' I informed
him I did not insist upon prolonging the time, and I was sure
Mr. Clay would acquiesce. The original agreement was carried
out."
I knew nothing of this until it was too late to speak with the
seconds or principals. I had crossed the Little Falls bridge just
after them, and come to the place where the servants and carriages
had stopped. I saw none of the gentlemen, and supposed they had
all gone to the spot where the ground was being marked off; but on
speaking to Johnny, Mr. Randolph, who was still in his carriage
and heard my voice, looked out from the window, and said to me:
"Colonel, since I saw you, and since I have been in this carriage,
I have heard something which _may_ make me change my determination.
Col. Hamilton will give you a note which will explain it." Col.
Hamilton was then in the carriage, and gave me the note, in the
course of the evening, of which Mr. Randolph spoke. I readily
comprehended that this possible change of determination related
to his firing; but the emphasis with which he pronounced the word
"_may_" clearly showed that his mind was undecided, and left it
doubtful whether he would fire or not. No further conversation took
place between us; the preparations for the duel were finished; the
parties went to their places; and I went forward to a piece of
rising ground, from which I could see what passed and hear what was
said. The faithful Johnny followed me close, speaking not a word,
but evincing the deepest anxiety for his beloved master. The place
was a thick forest, and the immediate spot a little depression,
or basin, in which the parties stood. The principals saluted each
other courteously as they took their stands. Col. Tatnall had won
the choice of position, which gave to Gen. Jesup the delivery of the
word. They stood on a line east and west--a small stump just behind
Mr. Clay; a low gravelly bank rose just behind Mr. Randolph. This
latter asked Gen. Jesup to repeat the word as he would give it; and
while in the act of doing so, and Mr. Randolph adjusting the butt of
his pistol to his hand, the muzzle pointing downwards, and almost to
the ground, it fired. Instantly Mr. Randolph turned to Col. Tatnall
and said: "I protested against that hair trigger." Col. Tatnall took
blame to himself for having sprung the hair. Mr. Clay had not then
received his pistol. Senator Johnson, of Louisiana (Josiah), one of
his seconds, was carrying it to him, and still several steps from
him. This untimely fire, though clearly an accident, necessarily
gave rise to some remarks, and a species of inquiry, which was
conducted with the utmost delicacy, but which, in itself, was of a
nature to be inexpressibly painful to a gentleman's feelings. Mr.
Clay stopped it with the generous remark that the fire was clearly
an accident: and it was so unanimously declared. Another pistol
was immediately furnished; and exchange of shots took place, and,
happily, without effect upon the persons. Mr. Randolph's bullet
struck the stump behind Mr. Clay, and Mr. Clay's knocked up the
earth and gravel behind Mr. Randolph, and in a line with the level
of his hips, both bullets having gone so true and close that it was
a marvel how they missed. The moment had come for me to interpose.
I went in among the parties and offered my mediation; but nothing
could be done. Mr. Clay said, with that wave of the hand with which
he was accustomed to put away a trifle, "_This is child's play!_"
and required another fire. Mr. Randolph also demanded another
fire. The seconds were directed to reload. While this was doing I
prevailed on Mr. Randolph to walk away from his post, and renewed
to him, more pressingly than ever, my importunities to yield to
some accommodation; but I found him more determined than I had ever
seen him, and for the first time impatient, and seemingly annoyed
and dissatisfied at what I was doing. He was indeed annoyed and
dissatisfied. The accidental fire of his pistol preyed upon his
feelings. He was doubly chagrined at it, both as a circumstance
susceptible in itself of an unfair interpretation, and as having
been the immediate and controlling cause of his firing at Mr. Clay.
He regretted this fire the instant it was over. He felt that it
had subjected him to imputations from which he knew himself to be
free--a desire to kill Mr. Clay, and a contempt for the laws of his
beloved State; and the annoyances which he felt at these vexatious
circumstances revived his original determination, and decided him
irrevocably to carry it out.
It was in this interval that he told me what he had heard since we
parted, and to which he alluded when he spoke to me from the window
of the carriage. It was to this effect: That he had been informed
by Col. Tatnall that it was proposed to give out the words with
more deliberateness, so as to prolong the time for taking aim. This
information grated harshly upon his feelings. It unsettled his
purpose, and brought his mind to the inquiry (as he now told me,
and as I found it expressed in the note which he had immediately
written in pencil to apprise me of his possible change), whether,
under these circumstances, he might not "_disable_" his adversary?
This note is so characteristic, and such an essential part of this
affair, that I here give its very words, so far as relates to this
point. It ran thus:
"Information received from Col. Tatnall since I got into the
carriage _may_ induce me to change my mind, of not returning
Mr. Clay's fire. I seek not his death. I would not have his
blood upon my hands--it will not be upon my soul if shed in
self-defence--for the world. He has determined, by the use of a
long, preparatory caution by words, to get time to kill me. May
I not, then, disable him? Yes, if I please."
It has been seen, by the statement of Gen. Jesup, already given,
that this "_information_" was a misapprehension; that Mr. Clay had
not applied for a prolongation of time for the purpose of getting
sure aim, but only to enable his unused hand, long unfamiliar
with the pistol, to fire within the limited time; that there was
no prolongation, in fact, either granted or insisted upon; but he
was in doubt, and General Jesup having won the word, he was having
him repeat it in the way he was to give it out, when his finger
touched the hair-trigger. How unfortunate that I did not know of
this in time to speak to General Jesup, when one word from him
would have set all right, and saved the imminent risks incurred!
This inquiry, "May I not disable him?" was still on Mr. Randolph's
mind, and dependent for its solution on the rising incidents of the
moment, when the accidental fire of his pistol gave the turn to his
feelings which solved the doubt. But he declared to me that he had
not aimed at the life of Mr. Clay; that he did not level as high as
the knees--not higher than the knee-band; "for it was no mercy to
shoot a man in the knee;" that his only object was to disable him
and spoil his aim. And then added, with a beauty of expression and
a depth of feeling which no studied oratory can ever attain, and
which I shall never forget, these impressive words: "_I would not
have seen him fall mortally, or even doubtfully wounded, for all the
land that is watered by the King of Floods and all his tributary
streams._" He left me to resume his post, utterly refusing to
explain out of the Senate any thing that he had said in it, and with
the positive declaration that he would not return the next fire. I
withdrew a little way into the woods, and kept my eyes fixed on Mr.
Randolph, who I then knew to be the only one in danger. I saw him
receive the fire of Mr. Clay, saw the gravel knocked up in the same
place, saw Mr. Randolph raise his pistol--discharge it in the air;
heard him say, '_I do not fire at you, Mr. Clay_;' and immediately
advancing and offering his hand. He was met in the same spirit. They
met half way, shook hands, Mr. Randolph saying, jocosely, '_You owe
me a coat, Mr. Clay_'--(the bullet had passed through the skirt of
the coat, very near the hip)--to which Mr. Clay promptly and happily
replied, '_I am glad the debt is no greater._' I had come up, and
was prompt to proclaim what I had been obliged to keep secret for
eight days. The joy of all was extreme at this happy termination
of a most critical affair; and we immediately left, with lighter
hearts than we brought. I stopped to sup with Mr. Randolph and his
friends--none of us wanted dinner that day--and had a characteristic
time of it. A runner came in from the bank to say that they had
overpaid him, by mistake, $130 that day. He answered, 'I believe
_it is your rule not to correct mistakes, except at the time, and
at your counter_.' And with that answer the runner had to return.
When gone, Mr. Randolph said, '_I will pay it on Monday: people must
be honest, if banks are not._' He asked for the sealed paper he had
given me, opened it, took out a check for $1,000, drawn in my favor,
and with which I was requested to have him carried, if killed, to
Virginia, and buried under his patrimonial oaks--not let him be
buried at Washington, with an hundred hacks after him. He took
the gold from his left breeches pocket, and said to us (Hamilton,
Tatnall, and I), 'Gentlemen, Clay's bad shooting shan't rob you
of your seals. I am going to London, and will have them made for
you;' which he did, and most characteristically, so far as mine was
concerned. He went to the herald's office in London and inquired for
the Benton family, of which I had often told him there was none, as
we only dated on that side from my grandfather in North Carolina.
But the name was found, and with it a coat of arms--among the
quarterings a lion rampant. That is the family, said he; and had the
arms engraved on the seal, the same which I have since habitually
worn; and added the motto, _Factis non verbis_: of which he was
afterwards accustomed to say the non should be changed into et. But,
enough. I run into these details, not merely to relate an event, but
to show character; and if I have not done it, it is not for want of
material, but of ability to use it.
On Monday the parties exchanged cards, and social relations were
formally and courteously restored. It was about the last high-toned
duel that I have witnessed, and among the highest-toned that I
have ever witnessed, and so happily conducted to a fortunate
issue--a result due to the noble character of the seconds as well
as to the generous and heroic spirit of the principals. Certainly
duelling is bad, and has been put down, but not quite so bad
as its substitute--revolvers, bowie-knives, blackguarding, and
street-assassinations under the pretext of self-defence.