INFLUENCE OF CHILDHOOD.
FIRST IMPRESSIONS--FORTUNE--MIRABEAU B. LAMAR--DR. ALONZO CHURCH--JULIUS
CÆSAR--L.Q.C. LAMAR--TEXAN INDEPENDENCE--COLQUITT--LUMPKIN--WHAT A
GREAT MAN CAN DO IN ONE DAY--CHARLES J. JENKINS.
The memories of childhood cling, perhaps, more tenaciously than those
of any after period of life. The attachments and antipathies then
formed are more enduring. Our school-companions at our first
school--the children of our immediate neighborhood, who first rolled
with us upon the grass, and dabbled with us in the branch--we never
forget. Time, absence, protracted separation, all fail to obliterate
the features, the dispositions, or anything about them, which so
unconsciously fastens upon the mind, and grows into the tender soul of
childhood. These memories retain and bring back with them the feelings,
the likes and dislikes, which grew with them. These feelings are the
basis of lifetime loves, and eternal antipathies.
The boy is father to the man, as the girl is mother to the woman. Who
that has lived seventy years will not attest this from his own life's
experience? The generous, truthful boy will be the noble, honorable
man; the modest, timid, truthful girl will be the gentle, kind, and
upright woman. Nature plants the germ, and education but cultivates the
tree. It never changes the fruit. The boy who, when dinner-time comes,
happens to have a pie, when his fellows have none, and will open his
basket before his companions, and divide with them, will carry the same
trait to the grave. His hand will open to assist the needy, and he will
seek no reward beyond the consciousness of having done right. And he
who, with the same school-boy's treasure, will steal away, and devour
it behind the school-house, and alone, will, through life, be equally
mean in all his transactions. From motives of interest, he may assume a
generosity of conduct, but the innate selfishness of his heart will, in
the manner of his dispensing favors, betray itself. Education, and the
influences of polished society, may refine the manners, but they never
soften the heart to generous emotions, where nature has refused to sow
its seed. But where her hand has been liberal in this divine
dispensation, no misfortune, no want of education or association, will
prevent their germination and fructification. Such hearts divide their
joys and their sorrows, with the fortunate and afflicted, with the same
emotional sincerity with which they lift their prayers to Heaven.
The school-room is an epitome of the world. There the same passions
influence the conduct of the child, which will prompt it in riper
years, and the natural buddings of the heart spring forth, and grow on
to maturity with the mind and the person. College life is but another
phase of this great truth, when these natural proclivities are more
manifest, because more matured. It is not the greatest mind which marks
the greatest soul, and it is not the most successful who are the
noblest and best. The shrewd, the mean, and the selfish grow rich, and
are prosperous, and are courted and preferred, because there are more
who are mean and venal in the world than there are who are generous and
good. But it is the generous and good who are the great benefactors of
mankind; and yet, if there was no selfishness in human nature, there
would be no means of doing good. Wealth is the result of labor and
economy. These are not incompatible with generosity and ennobling
manliness. The proper discrimination in the application of duties and
donations toward the promotion of useful institutions, and the same
discrimination in the dispensation of private charities, characterize
the wise and good of the world. These attributes of mind and heart are
apparent in the child; and in every heart, whatever its character,
there is a natural respect and love for these, and all who possess
them. Such grow with their growth in the world's estimation, and are
prominent, however secluded in their way of life, or unpretending in
their conduct, with all who know them, or with whom, in the march of
life, they come in contact.
It is to but few that fortune throws her gifts, and these are rarely
the most deserving, or the goddess had not been represented with a
bandage over her eyes. She is blind, and though her worshippers are
many, she kisses but few, and cannot see if they be fair and beautiful
or crooked and ugly. Hence most of those who receive her favors conceal
them in selfishness, and hoard them to be despised; while hundreds,
slighted of her gifts, cultivate the virtues, which adorn and ennoble,
and are useful and beloved.
Will you, who yet live, and were children when I was a child, turn back
with me in memory to those days, and to those who were your
school-fellows and playmates then? Do you remember who were the brave
and generous, kind and truthful among them? and do you recall their
after lives? Answer me; were not these the true men in that day? Do you
remember William C. Dawson, Joseph H. Lumpkin, Lucius Q.C. Lamar, and
his brother Mirabeau B. Lamar, Eugenius Nesbit, Walter T. Colquitt, and
Eli S. Shorter? How varied in temperament, in character, in talent; and
yet how like in the great leading features of the soul! Love for their
country, love for their kind, love for the good was common to them all;
unselfish beyond what was necessary to the wants of their families,
generous in the outpourings of the soul, philanthropic, and full of
charity. They hoarded no wealth, nor sought it as a means of power or
promotion. Intent upon the general good, and content with an approving
conscience and the general approbation, their lives were correct, and
their services useful; and they live in the memory of a grateful people
as public benefactors.
There are others who rise to memory, who were at school with these, who
were men with these, but they shall be nameless, who struggled, and
successfully, to fill their coffers to repletion, and for nothing else;
who have been courted by the mercenary, and flattered by the fawning
sycophant; who, with their hoardings, have passed away, and no grateful
memory remains of their lives; their hoards are dissipated, and they
are only remembered to be despised. And yet others, who swam in the
creek and sported on the play-ground with all of these, whose vicious
propensities were apparent then--whose after lives were as their
boyhood promised, a curse to society in evil deeds and evil
example--have gone, too, unwept, unhonored, and luckily unhung.
Mirabeau B. Lamar was the son of John Lamar, of Putnam County, Georgia,
and received his education principally at Milledgeville and at Putnam.
From his earliest boyhood, he was remarkable for his genius and great
moral purity. His ardent, poetical temperament was accompanied with
exquisite modesty, and a gentle playfulness of disposition; with an
open, unaffected kindness of heart, which as a boy rendered him popular
with his fellows at school, and beloved by his teachers. There was in
him a natural chivalry of character, which characterized him above all
of his early compeers, and made him a model in conduct. Truthful and
manly, retiring and diffident, until occasion called out the latent
spirit of his nature; then the true greatness of his soul would burst
forth in an impetuous eloquence, startlingly fierce and overwhelming.
Nor was this excitement always wasted in words--not a few, when yet a
boy, have regretted the awakening of his wrath. It was upon occasions
like this, that his eye assumed an expression which I have never seen
in the eye of any other human being. His eyes were beautifully blue,
large, and round, and were always changing and varying in their
expression, as the mind would suggest thought after thought; and so
remarkable were these variations, that, watching him in repose, one who
knew him well could almost read the ideas gathering and passing through
his mind. There was a pleasant vein of satire in his nature, sometimes
expressed, but always in words and in a manner which plucked away its
sting:
An abstract wit of gentle flow,
Which wounds no friend, and hurts no foe.
He was my school-fellow and companion in childhood, my friend and
associate in early manhood; our intimacy was close and cordial, and in
after life this friendship became intense--and I knew him perhaps
better than any man ever knew him.
All the peculiarities of the boy remained with the man, distinguishing
him in all his associations. The refined purity of his nature made him
naturally to despise and scorn all meanness and vice, and so intensely
as to render an association with any man distinguished by these,
however exalted his intellect, or extensive his attainments,
impossible. Falsehood, or the slightest dishonorable conduct in any
man, put him at once beyond the pale of his favor or respect. In all my
association with him, I never saw an indelicate act in his conduct, or
heard an obscene word in his conversation. In youth, he was fond of the
society of ladies--fond of this society not for a pastime, but because
of his high appreciation of the virtues of those he selected for
society. In his verse, "Memoriam," he has embalmed the memory of those
of our early female friends he most esteemed. He rather courted this
association in the individual than in the collective assembly--for he
was not fond of crowds, either in society, or the ordinary assemblages
of men and women.
The love of fame, more than any other passion, fired his ambition; but
it was not the love of notoriety--the fame he courted was not that
which should only render his name conspicuous among men, that he might
receive the incense of hypocritical flattery, or be pointed at by the
fickle multitude--for such, his contempt was supreme; but it was the
desire of his heart, and the struggle of his life, to be embalmed in
men's memories as the benefactor of his race, to be remembered for his
deeds as the great and the good. This was the spontaneous prompting of
his heart, and for this he labored with the zeal of a martyr.
Much of his early life was devoted exclusively to literature. His
reading, though without order, was select and extensive. He was well
versed in ancient history. The heroic characters of Greece and Rome
were his especial admiration, and that of Brutus above all others. Of
the nations of modern Europe, and their history, he knew everything
history could teach. His imagination was fired with the heroic in the
character of those of modern times, as well as those of antiquity, and
seemed the model from which was formed his own. The inflexible
integrity, the devoted patriotism, the unselfish heroism of these were
constantly his theme when a schoolboy, and the example for his
imitation in manhood.
When a school-boy, and at a public examination and exhibition, (then
common at the academies throughout the State,) our teacher, that
paragon of good men, Dr. Alonzo Church, selected the tragedy of Julius
Cæsar for representation by the larger boys, and, by common consent,
the character of Brutus was assigned to Lamar. Every one felt that the
lofty patriotism and heroic virtues of the old Roman would find a fit
representative in Lamar. I remember, in our rehearsals, how completely
his identity would be lost in that of Brutus. He seemed to enter into
all the feelings and the motives which prompted the great soul of the
Roman to slay his friend for his country's good. Time has left but one
or two who participated in the play. The grave has closed over Lamar,
as over the others. Those who remain will remember the bearing of their
companion, on that occasion, as extraordinary--the struggle between
inclination and duty--the pathos with which he delivered his speech to
the people after the assassination, but especially his bearing and
manner in the reply to Cassius' proposition to swear the
conspirators--the expansion of his person to all its proportions, as if
his soul was about to burst from his body, as he uttered:
"No, not an oath."
And again, when the burning indignation burst from him at the
supposition of the necessity of an oath to bind honorable men:
"Swear priests, and cowards, and men cautelous,
Old, feeble, carious, and such suffering souls
That welcome wrongs, unto bad causes. Swear
Such creatures as men doubt, but do not stain
The even virtue of our enterprise,
Nor the unsuppressive mettle of our spirits,
To think that our cause, or our performance,
Did need an oath; when every drop of blood
That every Roman bears, and nobly bears,
Is guilty of a several bastardy
If he do break the smallest particle
Of any promise that hath passed from him."
Though a boy, the effect upon the audience was electrical. The nature
of his boy representative was the same as that which animated Rome's
noblest son. From his soul he felt every word, and they burned from his
lips, with a truth to his soul and sentiments, that went home to every
heart in that assembly of plain farmers, and their wives and daughters.
There were not ten, perhaps, who had ever witnessed a theatrical
entertainment, but their hearts were mortal and honest, and they saw in
the mimic youth the impersonation of the nobility of soul, and mighty
truth, and the spontaneous burst of applause was but the sincerity of
truth. The exclamation of one I shall never forget: "He is cut out for
a great man." There was no stage-trick; he had never seen a theatre.
There was no assumption of fictitious feeling; but nature bubbled up in
his heart, and the words of Shakspeare, put into the mouth of Brutus,
were but the echo of the deep, true feelings of his soul. Through all
his life this great nature adorned his conversation, and exemplified
his conduct.
The soul of Brutus was born in Lamar. All the truth and chivalry
illustrative of the conduct of the one, was palpable in the other. Let
those who saw him, at San Jacinto, at the head of his sixty horsemen,
ride upon the ranks of Santa Anna's hosts, tell of his bearing in that
memorable charge, when he rose in his stirrups, and, waving his sword
over his head, exclaimed: "Remember, men, the Alamo! Remember Goliad,
Fannin, Bowie, and Travis! Charge! and strike in vengeance for the
murdered of our companions." Resistless as the tempest, they followed
his lead, and swept down upon the foe, charging through, and
disordering their ranks, and, following in their flight for miles, made
many a Mexican bite the dust, or yield himself a prisoner to their
intrepidity. To this charge was solely attributable the capture of
Santa Anna, Almonte, and the principal portion of the Mexican army, and
the establishment of Texan independence.
As a poet, he was above mediocrity, and his "Sully Riley," and many of
his fugitive pieces, will long survive, to perpetuate the refined
delicacy of his nature, when, perhaps, his deeds as a soldier and as
President of Texas shall have passed away. In stature he was below the
medium height, but was stout and muscular. His face was oval, and his
eyes blue, and exceedingly soft and tender in their expression, save
when aroused by excitement, when they were blazing and luminous with
the fire of his soul, which enkindled them. He was free from every
vice, temperate in living, and remarkable for his indifference to
money--with a lofty contempt for the friends and respectability which
it alone conferred. If there ever lived four men insensible to fear, or
superior to corruption, they were the four brothers Lamar. They are all
in eternity, and their descendants are few, but they wear unstained the
mantle of their ancestry.
L.Q.C. Lamar, the elder brother of the four, was educated at Franklin
College, and studied law in Milledgeville. Very soon after, he was
admitted to the Bar. He became distinguished for attention to business,
and for talent, as well as legal attainments. Like his brother, M.B.
Lamar, he was remarkable for his acute sense of honor and open
frankness, a peerless independence, and warm and noble sympathies. He
married, while young, the daughter of D. Bird. The mother of his lady
was one of the Williamson sisters, so remarkable for their superiority,
intellectually, and whose descendants have been, and are, so
distinguished for talent.
The character of L.Q.C. Lamar as a man, and as a lawyer, prompted the
Legislature of the State to elevate him to the Bench of the Superior
Court when very young; and at thirty-two years of age, he was known
throughout the State as the great Judge Lamar. This family had
contributed perhaps a greater number of men of distinguished character
than any other family of the State. Zachariah Lamar, the uncle of Judge
Lamar, was a man of high order of mind, distinguished for his love of
truth, stern honesty, and great energy. He was the father of Colonel
John B. Lamar, who fell in the service of the South, in the recent
conflict. He was one of Georgia's noblest sons, and his memory is
cherished by all who knew him. Henry G. Lamar, a former member of
Congress, and Judge of the Superior Court of the State, was a cousin of
both John B. and M.B. Lamar; and the eminent and eloquent Lucius Lamar,
of Mississippi, who was considered, when young, the best orator of the
House of Representatives of the United States Congress, is the son of
Judge L.Q.C. Lamar.
The name of Lamar has long been a synonym for talent and chivalrous
honor in Georgia. They have been distinguished in every pursuit, and no
stain has ever rested upon the name--in whatever avocation employed,
conspicuous for capacity, honesty, and energy. They are of French
extraction, and to their latest posterity they continue to exhibit
those traits peculiar to the French--chivalry, intense sensibility,
love of truth, refinement of manner, lofty bearing, and a devotion to
honor which courts death rather than dishonor.
The name of M.B. Lamar is identified with the history of Texas, as a
leader among that band of remarkable men who achieved her independence
of Mexican rule--Houston, Sidney Johnson, Bowie, Travis, Crockett, and
Fannin. He was twice married; his first wife, Miss Jordan, died young,
leaving him a daughter. This was a bitter blow, and it was long ere he
recovered it. His second wife was the daughter of the distinguished
Methodist preacher John Newland Moffitt, and sister of Captain Moffitt,
late of the service of the Confederacy. He died at Richmond, Fort Bend
County, Texas, beloved and regretted as few have been.
Perhaps among the most remarkable men of the State, contemporaneous
with the Lamars, was Walter T. Colquitt, Joseph H. Lumpkin, Charles J.
Jenkins, William C. Dawson, and Charles J. McDonald: all of these were
natives of the State--Colquitt, Eugenius A. Nesbit, and McDonald, of
Hancock County; Lumpkins, Oglethorpe, Dawson, Green, and Jenkins, of
Richmond; Nesbit, of Greene. At the period of time when these men were
young, education was deemed essential, at least to professional men.
They all enjoyed the benefits of a classical education. Lumpkin and
Colquitt received theirs at Princeton, New Jersey, and I believe were
classmates, at least they were college-mates. Colquitt returned home
before graduating; Lumpkin received the second honor in his class.
Returning to Georgia, Lumpkin read law in the town of Lexington, the
court-house town of his native county; and commenced, as soon as
admitted, its practice in the northern circuit of the State. At the
time he came to the Bar, it was ornamented with such men as Thomas W.
Cobb, Stephen Upson, George R. Gilmer, John A. Herd, and Duncan G.
Campbell. He rose rapidly to eminence in the midst of this galaxy of
talent and learning. The great John M. Dooly was upon the bench of this
circuit, and was the intimate friend of Wilson Lumpkin, an elder
brother of Joseph H. Lumpkin.
Wilson Lumpkin and Joseph H. Lumpkin were politically opposed. The
former was an especial friend of Dooly; the latter, of William H.
Crawford. Mr. Crawford, soon after Lumpkin's admission to the Bar,
returned to his home, near Lexington, and gave his countenance and
support to him, and at the same time his bitterest opposition to the
political aspirations of his brother. The forensic abilities of young
Lumpkin were winning for him in the State a proud eminence. His exalted
moral character, studious habits, and devotion to business attracted
universal observation and general comment. He had been from his birth
the favorite of all his acquaintances, for the high qualities of his
head and heart--the model held up by mothers for the example of their
sons. Scarcely any boy in the county was ever reprimanded for a wild
frolic or piece of amusing mischief, who was not asked, "Why can't you
be like Joe Lumpkin?"
All this favoritism, however flattering, did not spoil him, as is too
frequently the case with precocious youth. His ambition had fixed a
lofty mark, and he availed himself of this universal popularity to
reach it; at the same time, he left no effort neglected to deserve it,
and maintain it, once acquired.
The State was teeming with young men of talent, scarcely a county
without at least one of great promise. Lumpkin saw and knew the rivalry
would be fierce, and success only to be obtained by superior abilities
and eminent attainments. The Legislature was the first step to fame,
and political fame then the most desired and the most sought. Party was
rancorous in its spirit, producing intense excitement, pervading every
bosom, male and female, to the extremes of the State--an excitement
which so stamped itself upon the hearts of the entire people as to
endure, and to mark their character and opinions even until to-day.
Lumpkin was very decided in his opinions, and open in their expression,
yet there was none of that empoisoned bitterness in these expressions
so characteristic of political aspirants in that day. Such was alien to
his kindly nature; and if it had not been, there were other causes to
estop him from any such indulgence. His family was large. There were
eight brothers; only one of these was younger than himself; these were
about equally divided in political sentiment, and they, at least some
of them, less amiable or less considerate than himself. He was the
favorite of all, and was continually in communication with all of them,
and was really the moderator of the family, and the healer of its
feuds. At this time, too, the deep morality of his nature was growing
into piety, and this sentiment was mellowing from his heart even the
little of unkindness that had ever found a place there.
At twenty-five years of age he was sent, by an almost unanimous vote,
to the Legislature from his county. He came with an exaggerated
reputation for talent, especially for oratorical talent, and many of
his friends feared he would not be able to sustain it in that body,
where there were many of age and experience, with characters already
long established for learning and eloquence, and also many young men
from different parts of the State, who, like himself, had already won
fame for high talent. Among these was Robert Augustus Bell, in sight of
whose grave I write these lines. He passed away in early life, but
Georgia never produced a brighter or a nobler spirit. There were also
Charles Dougherty, (who died young, but not without making his mark,)
William Law, Hopkins Holsey, and others, who have honored themselves
and the State by eminent services on the Bench and at the Bar, and in
the councils of their native and other States to which many of them
emigrated.
At the very opening of the session, Lumpkin took position with the
first on the floor of the House of Representatives. His first speech
was one of thrilling eloquence, and, before its conclusion, had emptied
the Senate chamber; many of its oldest and most talented members
crowding about him, and listening with delight.
The memory of that day revives with the freshness of yesterday. Two or
three only remain with me now, to recall the delight with which all
hearts were filled who acted, politically, with Lumpkins, as the
beautiful and cogent sentences thrilled from his lips, with a trembling
fervor, which came from an excitement born of the heart, and which went
to the heart. Bell, Brailsford, Dougherty, Rumbert, and Baxter, who,
with myself, grouped near him, all are in the grave, save only I, and,
standing a few weeks since by the fresh mould that covers Joseph H.
Lumpkin, and yesterday by the grave of Bell, my mind wandered back to
the old State House, and to those who were with me there. Separated for
more than forty years from the home of my birth, being with, and
becoming a part of another people--a noble, generous, and gallant
people--and almost forgetting my mother tongue, these had faded away
almost into forgetfulness; but, tottering with years, and full of
sorrows, I am here amid the scenes made lovely and memorable by their
presence, when we were all young and hopeful. They come back to me, and
now, while I write, it seems their spirits float in the air of my
chamber, and smile at me. Why is my summons delayed so long? All that
made life lovely is gone--youth, fortune, and household gods. My
children are in bloody graves--she who bore them preceded them to
eternity; yet I live on, and sigh, and remember, while imagination
peoples with the past the scenes about me. The faces, the jest, and
merry laugh come again; I see and hear them again. Oblivion veils away
the interval of forty-five years, and all is as it was. Oh, could the
illusion last till death shall make it truth! It is, I feel, but a
foretaste of the reality soon to be, when hearts with hearts shall
group again, and the reunion of sundered ties be eternal.
Lumpkin served a few sessions in the Legislature, and retired from
public life to devote his entire attention to his profession. He had
married, almost as soon as he was admitted to the Bar, one to whom he
had been attached from boyhood, and the cares of a family were
increasing and demanding his attention and efforts. No man ever more
faithfully discharged these duties.
The judiciary of Georgia had consisted of two courts only--the
superior, and inferior or county court--from the organization of the
State. The country had long felt the want of a supreme court, for the
correction of errors, and to render uniform the decisions upon the law
throughout the State, which, under the prevailing system, had become
very diverse, and which was becoming grievously oppressive. Finally it
was determined by the Legislature to establish a supreme court. After
the passage of the law, however, its organization was incomplete for
the want of judges. Party was distracting the councils of the State,
and was carried into everything, and each party desired a controlling
influence in this court, and their united co-operation in selecting
judges could only be effected by the dominant party consenting to
Joseph H. Lumpkin's accepting the chief-justiceship. He consented to do
so, and the organization of the court was completed. This position,
under repeated elections, he continued to hold until the day of his
death, which occurred in the spring of 1867.
No man, perhaps, ever had the confidence of a people in the discharge
of a high judicial duty more than had Joseph H. Lumpkin. His public
duties were discharged with the most scrupulous conscientiousness, as
were all of those pertaining to his private life and relations. He died
in the neighborhood of his birth, and where he had continued to live
through his whole life, passing through time with the companions of his
childhood, and preserving their confidence and affection to the last.
His death was sudden, and deeply mourned throughout the State, which
had delighted so long to honor him. His name is identified with her
history, as one of her brightest and best men.
The talents of Judge Lumpkin were of a high order, and though he
distinguished himself as a jurist, they were certainly more fitted for
the forum than the bench. Those who knew him best, and who were best
fitted to judge, unite in the opinion that his eminence in political
life would have been greater than that which distinguished him as a
judge. He was a natural orator, and his oratory was of the highest
order. His ideas flowed too fast for the pen, and he thought more
vividly when on his feet, and in the midst of a multitude, than when in
the privacy of his chamber. His language was naturally ornate and
eloquent, and the stream of thought which flowed on in declamation,
brightened and grew, in its progress, to a mighty volume. This, with
the fervor of intense feeling which distinguished his efforts, made
them powerfully effective. In toning down these feelings, and
repressing the ornate and beautiful to the cold, concise legal opinion,
his delivery lost not only its beauty, but much of its strength and
power. He might have been less useful, but certainly he would have been
more distinguished, had he pursued the bent of his genius. Abilities
like Lumpkin's must succeed respectably, if directed to any pursuit;
and even should they be prostituted to base and dishonorable purposes,
they will distinguish the possessor above the herd.
His temperament was nervous, his sensibility acute, and his sentiments
exalted. Fluent, with great command of language, he was peculiarly
gifted for display in debate, and it was supposed, when he first came
into the Legislature, that he would soon rise to the first position in
the national councils. But he determined for himself a different field;
and, in view of his eminent services as an able and conscientious
judge, who shall say he did not choose wisely?
In an almost adjoining county to that of the residence of Judge
Lumpkin, was coming forward, in the profession of law, another gifted
son of Georgia--Walter T. Colquitt. He was a compeer, at the Bar, of
Chief-Justice Lumpkin. They were admitted to practice about the same
time. He was a native of the county of Hancock. His mother was the only
sister of the eight brothers Holt, every one of whom was distinguished
for probity and worth. They all lived and died in the State, and every
one of them was a representative man. They have all left descendants
but one, and none yet have stained the name. As their ancestors, they
are energetic, honest, and most worthy citizens.
Colquitt gave evidence, when very young, of his future career. As a
boy, he was wild and full of mirth, but little inclined to study. He
was fond of sport of every kind, and in everything to which his mind
and inclinations turned, he would be first. Compelled, by parental
authority, to apply himself, he at once mastered his task, and was
ready, then, for fun or frolic. Remarkable for physical powers, he
fondly embarked in all athletic sports, and in all excelled. Bold and
fearless, he was the leader in all adventures of mischief, and always
met the consequences in the same spirit. It was remarked of him, when a
boy, by one who knew him well, that in all he did he played "high,
game," never "low, Jack."
In the wildness of his mischief there was always discoverable boldness
and mind. At school and at college, though rarely winning an honor, he
was always admitted by his fellows to possess superior abilities. These
abilities were manifest more in the originality of his ideas, and their
peculiar exemplification in his conduct, than in the sober, every-day
manner of thought and action. His mind was versatile, and seemed
capable of grasping and analyzing any subject. Quick to perceive and
prompt to execute, yielding obedience to no dogma, legal or political,
he followed the convictions of his mind, without regard to precedent or
example. His knowledge of human nature seemed intuitive, and his
capacity of adaptation was without limit. At the period when he
commenced the practice of law, the successful abilities in the
profession were forensic. Every case was tried by a jury, and the law
made juries judges of law and fact. The power to control and direct
these was the prime qualification of a lawyer, and nature had bestowed
this, in an eminent degree, upon Colquitt. There were few more eminent
as advocates, or more successful as practitioners, though his legal
attainments were never of a very high order. He was elevated to the
bench, where he remained but a short time, feeling that this was no
situation for the display of his peculiar powers, nor the proper or
successful course for the gratification of his ambition. He had, at a
previous time, united himself with the Methodist Church, and was
licensed to preach. It was his habit to open his court, each morning,
with prayer, and not unfrequently, during the week of his court, in
each county of his circuit, to preach two or three sermons. He was a
general of the militia, and would come down from the bench to review a
regiment or brigade. It was this discharge of his multifarious duties
which prompted an aged sister of his church, when the great men of the
State were being discussed by the venerable ladies of a certain
neighborhood, to claim the palm for Colquitt.
"Ah! you may talk of your great men, but none on 'em is equal to
brother Colquitt; for he, in our county, tried a man for his life, and
sentenced him to be hung, preached a sermon, mustered all the men in
the county, married two people, and held a prayer-meeting, all in one
day. Now, wa'n't that great?"
Before a jury he was unequalled. His knowledge of men enabled him to
determine the character of every juror, and his versatility to adapt
his argument or address to their feelings and prejudices so effectually
as to secure a verdict in mere compliment to the advocate. He left the
bench to enter the political arena. It was here he found the field
nature designed him for. Before the people, he was omnipotent. At this
period Dawson, Cooper, Colquitt, Cobb, Stephens, and Toombs were before
the people--all men of talent, and all favorites in the State. This was
especially true of Dawson, Cobb, and Stephens, and no men better
deserved the public favor.
Very soon after he went into Congress, he, with Cooper and Black,
abandoned the Whig party. At the approaching election they canvassed
the State, and justified their course before the people. There was no
middle ground on which to stand. To abandon one party, was to go over,
horse, foot, and dragoons, to the other, which was always ready to
welcome new converts of talent and popularity. These three became, in
the canvass, the champions of Democracy, and fiercely waged the war in
antagonism with their former allies. In this contest were made manifest
the great abilities of Colquitt, Toombs, Stephens, Cobb, and Herschel
V. Johnson.
Subsequently, Colquitt was elected to the United States Senate, where
he was distinguished as a debater and leading man of the Democratic
party; but his talents and peculiar manner were better suited for the
debates of the House of Representatives, and the hustings.
Lumpkin was ardent and persuasive. Colquitt was equally ardent, but
more aggressive. Where Lumpkin solicited with a burning pathos,
Colquitt demanded with the bitterest sarcasm. Lumpkin was slow and
considerate; Colquitt was rapid and overwhelming. The one was the sun's
soft, genial warmth; the other, the north wind's withering blast.
Colquitt was remarkable for daring intrepidity; Lumpkin for collected
firmness. Lumpkin persuaded; Colquitt frightened. Both were brave, but
Colquitt was fiercely so. Lumpkin was mild, but determined.
Unaggressive himself, the dignity and gentleness of his character
repelled it in others. The consequence was, that he passed through life
without strife with his fellow-man, while Colquitt was frequently in
personal conflict with those as impetuous as himself. The open
frankness and social nature of Colquitt won him many friends, and of
that description most useful to politicians--friends who were devoted,
who felt for, and preferred him to any other man. His features were
versatile, and variable as an April day, betraying every emotion of his
mind--especially his eyes, which were soft or fierce, as the passion of
the heart sprang to view in them, and spoke his soul's sensations. His
oratory was playful, awakening wild mirth in his auditors, and again it
was impetuous and sarcastic, overwhelming with invective and
denunciation.
Charles J. Jenkins, a compeer of Lumpkin and Colquitt, was essentially
different from both in many of the features of his character. His mind
was more logical, more analytical, and capable of deeper research. He
had little ambition, and whenever he was before the people, it was when
his friends thrust him there. The instinctive morality of his nature,
like that of Lumpkin, would never permit the compromise of conscience
or dignity of character so often the case with men of ardent natures
and intense ambition. Eminently cool in debate, he never made any
attempt at forensic display, but confined himself exclusively to the
logic of his subject. He clearly saw his way, and carefully went along,
spurning ornament or volubility, and only compelling into service words
which clearly and succinctly conveyed his ideas, and these only
elucidated the subject-matter he was discussing. Strictly honest, and
equally truthful, he never deviated, under any circumstances, from what
he believed his duty. Only for a short time was he in the Legislature,
and then he displayed in most exciting times the great virtues of his
nature.
Upon one occasion, the party with which he acted determined, to defeat
a certain measure, to leave the chamber in a body, and break the
quorum. It was the only means in their power to prevent a measure which
they deemed wrong in principle and injurious to the public interest.
Jenkins thought such extreme measures wrong, and entirely
unjustifiable. Though as much opposed to the views of the majority as
any member of his party, he refused to participate in their action, and
was the only member of the party who persistently remained in his seat.
This conduct was censured by his party friends, and he immediately
resigned his seat and returned to his constituency, who, knowing and
appreciating the great worth of the man, returned him at once to his
seat under a new election. In all the relations of life the same traits
of character have distinguished him. While at the Bar, his rank was the
first; this, combined with his integrity and great firmness, made him
so conspicuous before the people of the State, that he was placed on
the bench of the Supreme Court--a position he distinguished by his
great legal attainments, dignity, and purity.
The political opinions of Judge Jenkins were in many of their features
unpopular. He was always opposed to universal suffrage, and made no
secret of his sentiments. He was opposed to an elective judiciary, and
to mob-rule in every shape. He despised alike the arts and the
humiliation of party politicians, and was never a man to accept for
public trust any man whose only recommendation to public favor was his
availability, because of his popularity with the masses. He was taken
from the supreme bench to fill the gubernatorial chair of the State,
and no man, not even Jackson, Early, or Troup, ever more dignified this
elevated position--none ever had the same trying difficulties to
encounter. Chosen by the people at a period when civil war had
distracted the government and uprooted all the landmarks so long the
guide for those who preceded him--when a manifest determination of the
so-called Congress, representing but two-thirds of the States, was
apparent to usurp all power--when the State governments of ten States,
though that of their people, were threatened with military usurpation,
Jenkins remained firm to his convictions of duty. The credit of the
State had never suffered while under his guardianship; a large amount
was in her treasury; this was an objective point for the usurpers. He
met the military satrap, and was assured of his intentions. Satisfied
of his insincerity and dishonesty, knowing he held the power of the
bayonet, and would be unscrupulous in its use, calm as a Roman senator
he defied the power of this unprincipled minion of a base, corrupt, and
unconstitutional power, and deliberately removed the treasure of the
State, and applied it to the liquidation of her obligations. Hurled
from the office bestowed by his fellow-citizens, so far as he could he
protected their interests, at the hazard of the horrors of Fort Pulaski
and the sweat-box--the favorite instruments of torture of this infamous
defendant of an irresponsible Congress, and now for personal safety,
exiled from home and country, finds protection under a foreign flag.
This one act alone will be sufficient to immortalize the name of
Charles J. Jenkins, and to swell with pride the heart of every true
Georgian who aided to place such a man in such a position, at such a
time. Governor Jenkins still lives, and if the prayers of a virtuous
and oppressed people may avail on high, will be spared to reap in
better days his reward in their gratitude.
An exalted intellect, unaccompanied with exalted virtue, can never
constitute greatness. In whatever position placed, or whatever
inducements persuade, virtue and a conscientious conviction of right
must regulate the mind and conduct of man to make him great. The
tortuous course of politics, made so by unprincipled men, renders the
truly upright man usually a poor politician. He who possesses the
capacity to discern the true interests of a country, and who will
virtuously labor to secure and promote those interests, defying
opposition and fearlessly braving the calumnies of interested, corrupt
men, organized into parties--which so often lose sight of the interests
of their country, in promoting party ends, or from inflamed
passions--is the great man. He whose pedestal is virtue, and whose
action is honest, secures the respect of his own age, and becomes the
luminary of succeeding ages. Stern honesty often imposes unpleasant
duties--strict obedience to its behests, not unfrequently involves
apparent inconsistencies of conduct; but the conscientious man will
disregard these in doing what his judgment determines right--the only
real consistency which sustains a man in his own estimation, and leaves
no bitter reflections for the future. To subserve the cause of right,
is always a duty--not so the cause of party or selfish interest. All
men respect the right, but many have not the virtue to resist wrong.
Ambition prompts for success the expedient: and hence the laxity of
political morals. This is slipping the cable that the ship may swing
from her anchorage and drift with the tide; any minnow may float with
the current, but it requires a strong fish to stem and progress against
the stream. A man, to brave obloquy and public scorn, requires strong
moral courage; but when his judgment convinces him that he is right,
and when he feels that his intentions are pure, conscientious, and
sincere, this may ruffle him for a time, but never permanently disturbs
his peace or injures his reputation. The truly great are only known by
nobly resisting every temptation to wrong, and braving the world's
condemnation in pursuing and sustaining the right. It is the soul to
which greatness belongs, not the mind. This latter is too often, in its
transcendent greatness, coupled with a mean and degraded soul, which
stimulates the mind's power to the corruption of the masses, and the
destruction of public morals, undermining the very basis of society and
government.
The combination of a great mind and a great soul constitutes the truly
great, and the life of such a man creates a public sentiment which,
like an intense essence, permeates all it touches, leaving its
fragrance upon all. Such a man was George M. Troup, such a man is
Charles J. Jenkins; and the incense of his character will be a
fragrance purifying and delighting the land when he shall have passed
away. The exalted abilities of his mind, the great purity of his heart,
the noble elevation of his sentiments, and his exquisite
conscientiousness, will be an honor and an example to be remembered and
emulated by the coming generations of his native land.