CONGRESS IN ITS BRIGHTEST DAYS.
MISSOURI COMPROMISE--JOHN RANDOLPH'S JUBA--MR. MACON--HOLMES AND
CRAWFORD--MR. CLAY'S INFLUENCE--JAMES BARBOUR--PHILIP P. BARBOUR--MR.
PINKNEY--MR. BEECHER, OF OHIO--"CUCKOO, CUCKOO!"--NATIONAL ROADS--
WILLIAM LOWNDES--WILLIAM ROSCOE--DUKE OF ARGYLE--LOUIS McLEAN--WHIG
AND DEMOCRATIC PARTIES.
It was at the last session of the fifteenth Congress, in the winter of
1820-21, when the famous Compromise measure, known as the Missouri
Compromise, was effected. A portion of that winter was spent by the
writer at Washington. Congress was then composed of the first
intellects of the nation, and the measure was causing great excitement
throughout the entire country.
Missouri, in obedience to a permissory statute, had framed a
constitution, and demanded admission into the Union as a State. By this
constitution slavery was recognized as an institution of the State.
Objection was made to this clause on the part of the Northern members,
which led to protracted and sometimes acrimonious debate. At the first
session of the Congress the admission of the State had been postponed,
and during the entire second session it had been the agitating
question; nor was it until the very end of the session settled by this
famous compromise.
The debates were conducted by the ablest men in Congress, in both the
Senate and the House of Representatives. In the Senate, William
Pinkney, of Maryland; Rufus King, of New York; Harrison Gray Otis, of
Massachusetts; James Barbour, of Virginia; William Smith, of South
Carolina, and Freeman Walker, of Georgia, were most conspicuous. In the
House were John Randolph, of Virginia; William Lowndes, of South
Carolina; Louis McLean, of Delaware; Thomas W. Cobb, of Georgia, and
Louis Williams, of North Carolina, and many others of less note. Henry
Clay, of Kentucky, was Speaker of the House during the first session of
the Congress; but resigned before the meeting of the succeeding
Congress, and John Taylor, of New York, was elected to preside as
Speaker for the second session. Mr. Clay was absent from his seat
during the early part of this session; and notwithstanding the eminent
men composing the Congress, there seemed a want of some leading and
controlling mind to master the difficulty, and calm the threatening
excitement which was intensifying as the debate progressed. Mr.
Randolph was the leader in the debates of the House, and occupied the
floor frequently in the delivery of lengthy and almost always very
interesting speeches. These touched every subject connected with the
Government, its history, and its powers. They were brilliant and
beautiful; full of classical learning and allusion, and sparkling as a
casket of diamonds, thrown upon, and rolling along, a Wilton carpet. It
seemed to be his pleasure to taunt the opposition to enforce an angry
or irritable reply, and then to launch the arrows of his biting wit and
sarcasm at whoever dared the response, in such rapid profusion, as to
astonish the House, and overwhelm his antagonist.
His person was as unique as his manner. He was tall and extremely
slender. His habit was to wear an overcoat extending to the floor, with
an upright standing collar which concealed his entire person except his
head, which seemed to be set, by the ears, upon the collar of his coat.
In early morning it was his habit to ride on horseback. This ride was
frequently extended to the hour of the meeting of Congress. When this
was the case, he always rode to the Capitol, surrendered his horse to
his groom--the ever-faithful Juba, who always accompanied him in these
rides--and, with his ornamental riding-whip in his hand, a small cloth
or leathern cap perched upon the top of his head, (which peeped out,
wan and meagre, from between the openings of his coat-collar,) booted
and gloved, he would walk to his seat in the House--then in
session--lay down upon his desk his cap and whip, and then slowly
remove his gloves. If the matter before the House interested him, and
he desired to be heard, he would fix his large, round, lustrous black
eyes upon the Speaker, and, in a voice shrill and piercing as the cry
of a peacock, exclaim: "Mr. Speaker!" then, for a moment or two, remain
looking down upon his desk, as if to collect his thoughts; then lifting
his eyes to the Speaker would commence, in a conversational tone, an
address that not unfrequently extended through five hours, when he
would yield to a motion for adjournment, with the understanding that he
was to finish his speech the following day.
He had but few associates. These were all from the South, and very
select. With Mr. Macon, Mr. Crawford, Louis Williams, and Mr. Cobb, he
was intimate. He was a frequent visitor to the family of Mr. Crawford,
then Secretary of the Treasury, where occasionally he met Macon and
Cobb, with other friends of Crawford. Macon and Crawford were his
models of upright men. He believed Mr. Crawford to be the first
intellect of the age, and Mr. Macon the most honest man. The strict
honesty of Macon captivated him, as it did most men. His home-spun
ideas, his unaffected plainness of dress, and primitive simplicity of
manner, combined with a wonderful fund of common sense, went home to
the heart of Randolph, and he loved Macon in sincerity.
Macon and Crawford humored his many eccentricities, and would always
deferentially listen to him when the humor was on him to talk. It was
at such times that Randolph was most interesting. He had read much, and
to great advantage; he had travelled, and with an observant eye; he
knew more, and he knew it more accurately, than any other man of his
country, except, perhaps, that wonderful man, William Lowndes. In his
talking moods all the store-house of his information was drafted into
service. His command of language was wonderful. The antithetical manner
of expressing himself gave piquancy and _vim_ to his conversation,
making it very captivating. He was too impatient, and had too much
nervous irritability and too rapid a flow of ideas, to indulge in
familiar and colloquial conversation. He would talk all, or none. He
inaugurated a subject and exhausted it, and there were few who desired
more than to listen when he talked. Two or three evenings in the week
there would assemble at Mr. Crawford's a few gentlemen, members of
Congress. This was especially the case pending the Missouri question,
when Mr. Randolph, Mr. Macon, Mr. McLean, Mr. Holmes, of Maine, (a
great admirer of Mr. Crawford,) Mr. Lowndes, and sometimes one or two
gentlemen from Pennsylvania, would be present. At these meetings this
question was the first and principal topic, and Mr. Randolph would
engross the entire conversation for an hour, when he would almost
universally rise, bid good-night, and leave. At other times he would
listen attentively, without uttering a word, particularly when Crawford
or Lowndes were speaking. These, then, almost universally, did all the
talking. The diversity of opinion scarcely ever prompted reply or
interruption. In these conversations the great powers of Crawford's
mind would break out, astonishing and convincing every one.
It was upon one of these occasions, when discussing in connection with
the Missouri question, the subject of slavery, its influences, and its
future, that Mr. Crawford remarked: "If the Union is of more importance
to the South than slavery, the South should immediately take measures
for the gradual emancipation of the slaves, fixing a period for its
final extinction. But if the institution of slavery is of more vital
importance than the perpetuation of the Union to the South, she should
at once secede and establish a government to protect and preserve this
institution. She now has the power to do so without the fear of
provoking a war. Her people should be unanimous, and this agitation has
made them so--I believe. I know the love of the Union has been
paramount to every other consideration with the Southern people; but
they view, as I do, this attempt to arrest the further spread of
slavery as aggressive on the part of Congress, and discover an alarming
state of the Northern mind upon this subject. This with an increasing
popular strength may grow into proportions which shall be irresistible,
and the South may be ultimately forced to do, what she never will
voluntarily do--abolish at once the institution." It was urged by Mr.
Holmes that the Constitution guaranteed slavery to the States, that its
control and destiny was alone with the States, and there was no danger
that the North would ever violate the Constitution to interfere with
what they had no interest in.
"Never violate the Constitution!" said Randolph, in an excited and
querulous tone. "Mr. Holmes, you perhaps know the nature of your people
better than I do. But I know them well enough not to trust them. They
stickle at nothing to accomplish an end; and their preachers can soon
convince them that slavery is a sin, and that they are responsible for
its existence here, and that they can only propitiate offended Deity by
its abolition. You are a peculiar people, Holmes, prone to fanaticism
upon all subjects, and this fanaticism concentrated as a religious
duty--the Constitution will only prove a barrier of straw. No, sir; I
am unwilling to trust them. They want honesty of purpose, have no
sincerity, no patriotism, no principle. Your dough-faces will profess,
but at a point will fly the track, sir; they can't stand, sir; they
can't stand pressing. Interest, interest, sir, is their moving motive.
Do you not see it in their action in this matter? Missouri is a fertile
and lovely country; they want it for the purpose of settlement with
their own people. Prohibit slavery to the inhabitants, and no Southern
man will go there; there will be no competition in the purchase of her
land. Your people will have it all to themselves; they will flock to it
like wild geese, and very soon it is a Northern State in Northern
interest; and, step after step, all the Western territory will be in
your possession, and you will create States _ab libitum_. You know the
Constitution permits two-thirds of the States to amend or alter it:
establish the principle that Congress can exclude slavery from a
territory, contrary to the wishes of her people expressed in a
constitution formed by them for their government, and how long will it
be, before two-thirds of the States will be free? Then you can change
the Constitution and place slavery under the control of Congress--and,
under such circumstances, how long will it be permitted to remain in
any State?
"Your people are too religious, sir; eminently practical, inventive,
restless, cold, calculating, malicious, and ambitious; invent curious
rat-traps, and establish missions. I don't want to be trapped, sir; I
am too wary a rat for that; and think with Mr. Crawford, now is the
time for separation, and I mean to ask Clay to unite with us. Yet, sir,
I have not spoken to the fellow for years, sir; but I will to-morrow; I
will tell him I always despised him, but if he will go to his people, I
will to mine, and tell them now is the time for separation from you;
and I will follow his lead if he will only do so, if it leads me to
perdition. I never did follow it, but in this matter I will. I bid you
good night, gentlemen." He waited for no reply, but taking his hat and
whip, hurriedly left the room.
"Can Mr. Randolph be in earnest?" asked several.
"Intensely so," replied Mr. Crawford. "Mr. Holmes, your people are
forcing Mr. Randolph's opinions upon the entire South. They will not
permit Northern intermeddling with that which peculiarly interests
themselves, and over which they alone hold control."
There was a pause, the party was uneasy. There were more than Mr.
Holmes present who were startled at both Crawford's and Randolph's
speculation as to the value of the Union. They had ever felt that this
was anchored safely in every American breast, and was paramount to
every other consideration or interest. It was a terrible heresy, and
leading to treason. This was not said, but it was thought, and in no
very agreeable mood the party separated for the night.
Mr. Clay had just arrived from Kentucky. There had been many
speculations as to what course he would pursue in this delicate matter.
Many had suspended their opinions awaiting his action. The members from
Ohio were generally acting and voting with those of the East and North.
Some seemed doubtful, and it was supposed Mr. Clay would exercise great
influence with all the West, and those from Ohio, especially. Hence,
his coming was universally and anxiously awaited. But now he was in
Washington, all were on the _qui vive_.
Randolph's declaration was whispered about in the morning, and little
coteries were grouped about the hall of the House of Representatives.
Randolph was in conversation, near the Speaker's chair, with the clerk,
who was pointing and calling his attention to something upon the
journal of the House. The hour of meeting was at hand, and the crowd
was increasing upon the floor. Mr. Taylor was in conversation, near the
fire-place, on the left of the Speaker's chair, with Stratford Canning,
the British Plenipotentiary, Harrison Gray Otis, and Governor
Chittenden, of Vermont. Mr. Clay entered in company with William S.
Archer, a man whose only merit and sole pride was the having been born
in Virginia; whose pusillanimous arrogance was only equalled by the
poverty of his intellect, and who always foisted himself upon the
presence of eminent men, deeming he was great because of his impudence
and their association. All eyes were turned to Clay, and the members
flocked about him. Releasing himself from these he came up the aisle
toward the Speaker's chair. Mr. Randolph stepped into the aisle
immediately in front of the chair. At this moment Clay discovered him
and, towering to his full height, paused within a few feet of him whose
eye he saw fixed upon his own.
Randolph advanced and, without extending his hand, said: "Good morning,
Mr. Clay." Clay bowed, and Randolph immediately said: "I have a duty to
perform to my country; so have you, Mr. Clay. Leave your seat here,
sir, and return to your people, as I will to mine. Tell them, as I will
mine, that the time has come: if they would save themselves from ruin,
and preserve the liberties for which their fathers bled, they must
separate from these men of the North. Do so, sir; and, though I never
did before, I will follow your lead in the effort to save our people,
and their liberties." Mr. Clay listened, and without apparent surprise
remarked, with a smile: "Mr. Randolph, that will require more
reflection than this moment of time affords," and bowing passed on.
But a bomb had fallen on the floor, and consternation was on every
face. All turned to Mr. Clay. All saw a crisis was at hand, and that
this matter must be settled as speedily as possible. Archer filed off
with Randolph, who affected to pet him, as some men do foils for their
wit, in the person of a toady.
A few days after this occurrence the famous Compromise measure was
reported, and the first speech I ever listened to from Mr. Clay was in
its advocacy. About him was gathered the talent of the Senate and the
House. The lobbies and galleries were filled to overflowing. Mr.
Pinkney, of Maryland; Landman, of Connecticut; Rufus King, William
Lowndes, Otis, Holmes, Macon, and others, all manifested intense
interest in the speech of Mr. Clay. How grandly he towered up over
those seated about him! Dressed in a full suit of black, his hair
combed closely down to his head, displaying its magnificent
proportions, with his piercing, gray eyes fixed upon those of the
Speaker, he poured out, in fervid words, the wisdom of his wonderful
mind, and the deep feelings of his great heart. All accorded to him
sincerity and exalted patriotism; all knew and confided in his wisdom;
all knew him to be a national man, and into the hearts of all his words
sank deep, carrying conviction, and calming the storm of angry passions
which threatened not only the peace, but the existence of the
Government. All the majesty of his nature seemed as a halo emanating
from his person and features, as, turning to those grouped about him,
and then to the House, his words, warm and persuasive, flowing as a
stream of melody, with his hand lifted from his desk, he said:
"I wish that my country should be prosperous, and her Government
perpetual. I am in my soul assured that no other can ever afford the
same protection to human liberty, and insure the same amount. Leave the
North to her laws and her institutions. Extend the same conciliating
charity to the South and West. Their people, as yours, know best their
wants--know best their interests. Let them provide for their own--our
system is one of compromises--and in the spirit of harmony come
together, in the spirit of brothers compromise any and every jarring
sentiment or interest which may arise in the progress of the country.
There is security in this; there is peace, and fraternal union. Thus we
may, we shall, go on to cover this entire continent with prosperous
States, and a contented, self-governed, and happy people. To the
unrestrained energies of an intelligent and enterprising people, the
mountains shall yield their mineral tribute, the valleys their cereals
and fruits, and a million of millions of contented and prosperous
people shall demonstrate to an admiring world the great problem that
man is capable of self-government."
There beamed from every countenance a pleased satisfaction, as the
members of the Senate and the House came up to express their delight,
and their determination to support the measure proposed, and so ably
advocated. There was oil upon the waters, and the turbulent waves went
down. Men who had been estranged and angered for many months, met, and
with friendly smiles greeted each other again. The ladies in the
gallery above rose up as if by a common impulse, to look down, with
smiles, upon the great commoner. One whose silvered hair, parted
smoothly and modestly upon her aged forehead, fell in two massy folds
behind her ears, clasped her hands, and audibly uttered: "God bless
him."
The reconciliation seemed to be effected, and the confidence and
affection between the sections to be renewed with increased fervor and
intensity. There was rejoicing throughout the land. Dissatisfaction
only spake from the pulpits of New England, and there only from those
of the Puritan Congregationalists. But the public heart had received a
shock, and though it beat on, it was not with the healthful tone of
former days.
The men of the Revolution were rapidly passing to eternity. The cement
of blood which bound these as one was dissolving, and the fabric of
their creation was undermined in the hearts of the people, with
corroding prejudices, actively fomented by the bigotry of a selfish
superstition. A sectional struggle for supremacy had commenced. The
control of the Government was the aim, and patriotism was consuming in
the flame of ambition. The Government's security, the Government's
perpetuity, and the common good, were no longer prime considerations.
All its demonstrated blessings had remained as ever the same.
Stimulated by the same motives and the same ambitions, the new world
and the new Government were moving in the old groove; and the old world
saw repeating here the history of all the Governments which had arisen,
lived, and passed away, in her own borders. The mighty genius of Clay
and Webster, of Jackson and Calhoun, had, for a time, stayed the rapid
progress of ruin which had begun to show itself, but only for a time.
They have been gathered to their fathers, and the controlling influence
of their mighty minds being removed, confusion, war, and ruin have
followed.
The men conspicuous in the debates on the Missouri question were giants
in intellect, and perhaps few deliberative assemblies of the world ever
contained more talent, or more public virtue. At the head of these
stood Henry Clay, Pinkney, Rufus King, William Lowndes, Harrison Gray
Otis, William Smith, Louis McLean, the two Barbours, John Randolph,
Freeman Walker, Thomas W. Cobb, and John Holmes, of Maine.
James Barbour was a member of the Senate; Philip P. Barbour, of the
House. They were brothers, and both from Virginia. They were both men
of great abilities, but their style and manner were very different.
James was a verbose and ornate declaimer; Philip was a close, cogent
reasoner, without any attempt at elegance or display. He labored to
convince the mind; James, to control and direct the feelings. A wag
wrote upon the wall of the House, at the conclusion of a masterly
argument of Philip P. Barbour,
"Two Barbers to shave our Congress long did try.
One shaves with froth; the other shaves dry."
Of the Senate Mr. Pinkney was the great orator. His speech upon this
most exciting question has ever been considered the most finished for
eloquence and power, ever delivered in the United States Senate. The
effect upon the Senate, and the audience assembled in the galleries and
lobbies of the Senate, was thrilling. Mr. King was old, but retained in
their vigor his faculties, was more tame perhaps than in his younger
years; still the clearness and brilliancy of his powerful mind
manifested itself in his every effort. Mr. Pinkney had all the
advantages which a fine manly person and clear, musical voice gives to
an orator. He spoke but rarely and never without great preparation. He
was by no means a ready debater, and prized too much his reputation to
hazard anything in an impromptu, extemporaneous address. He listened,
for weeks, to King, Otis, and others who debated the question, and came
at last prepared in one great effort to answer and demolish the
arguments of these men. Those who listened to that wonderful effort of
forensic power will never forget his reply to King, when he charged him
with uttering sentiments in debate calculated to incite a servile war.
The picture he drew of such a war: the massacring by infuriated black
savages of delicate women and children; the burning and destroying of
cities; the desolating by fire and sword the country, was so thrilling
and descriptively perfect, that you smelt the blood, saw the flames,
and heard the shrieks of perishing victims. Mr. King shuddered as he
looked on the orator, and listened to his impassioned declamation. But
when Pinkney turned from the President of the Senate and, flashing his
eye upon King, continued in words hissing in whispers, full of pathos
as of biting indignation, Mr. King folded his arms and rested his head
upon them, concealing his features and emotion from the speaker and the
Senate. For two hours the Senate and galleries were chained as it were
to their seats. At times so intense was the feeling, that a pause of
the speaker made audible the hard and excited breathing of the
audience, catching their breath as though respiration had been
painfully suspended and relief had come in this pause. When he had
finished and resumed his seat, there was profound silence for many
seconds, when a Senator in seeming trepidation rose and moved an
adjournment.
Mr. Pinkney was in every respect a most finished gentleman, highly
bred, only associating with the first men and minds of the country;
courteous and polished in his manners, and scrupulously neat in his
dress, which was always in the height of fashion and always of the
finest and most costly materials. He never came to the Senate but in
full dress, and would have been mortified to find a mite of lint upon
his coat, or a dash of dust upon his boots.
At that time the United States Senate was the most august and dignified
body in the world. What is it to-day? _O tempora, O mores!_ In the
House, the palm of oratory was disputed between Mr. Clay and Mr.
Randolph. Their styles were so different, and both so effective, that
it was difficult to distinguish by comparison, to which belonged the
distinction of being first. Mr. Clay was always collected and
self-possessed--he was, too, always master of his subject; and though
he was a ready debater, he never made a set speech upon any important
subject without careful preparation. He was not easily disconcerted;
courageous, with a strong will, he feared no intemperate opposition,
and was never restrained from uttering his sentiments and opinions of
men or measures. He was kind and generous, until aroused or offended
and, then, was merciless. His sarcasm and invective upon such occasions
was withering, and his vehemence daring and terrible. No man of his day
had a mind better balanced than Mr. Clay. His judgment was almost
always correct; his imagination brilliant, but always under the control
of his judgment; his memory and preceptive faculties were wonderful;
his education was defective, and the associations of the West had not
given that polish to his manners which distinguishes men of education,
reared in educated communities, and associating always with polished
society. Mr. Clay had been at the most polished courts of Europe, and
was familiar with their most refined society; but these he visited in
mature life, after the manners are formed, and habit made them
indurate. He had long been familiar, too, with the best society in his
own country and, by this, had been much improved. Still the Kentuckian
would sometimes come through the shell, but always in a manner more to
delight than offend; besides, Mr. Clay set little value upon forms and
ceremony. There was too much heart for such cold seeming, too much fire
for the chill, unfeeling ceremony of what is termed first society.
Mr. Clay's manners partook much of the character of his mind and soul.
They were prompt, bold, and easy; his eloquence was bold, rough, and
overwhelming.
Like all men of genius, will, and self-reliance, Mr. Clay was impatient
of contradiction. The similarity in this regard, between Jackson, Clay,
and Crawford was wonderful. They were equally passionate, equally
impetuous, and equally impatient--all being natural men of great powers
and limited education. To say they were self-made, would be paying the
Almighty a left-handed compliment. But to say they assiduously
cultivated His great gifts without much aid from the schoolmaster,
would only be doing them unbiased justice.
Randolph was classically educated. He had enjoyed every advantage of
cultivation. Socially, he had never mingled with any but refined
society. The franchise of suffrage in Virginia was confined to the
freeholders, thus obviating in the public man the necessity of mingling
with, and courting the good opinion of the multitude. The system, too,
of electioneering was to address from the hustings the voters, to
declare publicly the opinions of candidates, and the policy they
proposed supporting. The vote was given _viva voce_. All concurred to
make representative and constituent frank and honest. While this system
existed, Virginia ruled the nation. These means secured the services of
the first intellects, and the first characters of her people. The
system was a training for debate and public display. Eloquence became
the first requisite to the candidate, and was the most powerful means
of influence and efficiency in the representative. Randolph had been
thus trained; he had listened to, and been instructed by the eloquence
of Patrick Henry, in his early youth, and in later life had met him as
a competitor on the hustings. He had grown up by the side of Edmonds,
Peyton Randolph, George Mason, and Thomas Jefferson. In his very youth
he had excited the wonder and admiration of these great minds. He was
sent into the Congress of the United States almost before he was
qualified by age to take his seat; and at once took position by the
side of such men as William B. Giles, William H. Crawford, James A.
Byard, and Littleton W. Tazwell. His style of speaking was peculiar;
his wit was bitter and biting; his sarcasm more pungent and withering
than had ever been heard on the floor of Congress; his figure was
_outre_; his voice, fine as the treble of a violin; his face, wan,
wrinkled, and without beard; his limbs, long and unsightly, especially
his arms and fingers; the skin seemed to grow to the attenuated bone;
and the large, ill-formed joints were extremely ugly. But those
fingers, and especially the right fore-finger, gave point and _vim_ to
his wit and invective.
In his manner he was at times deliberate, and apparently very
considerate, and again he was rapid and vehement. When he would
demolish an adversary, he would commence slowly, as if to collect all
his powers, preparatory to one great onset. He would turn and talk, as
it were, to all about him, and seemingly incongruously. It was as if he
was slinging and whirling his chain-shot about his head, and circling
it more and more rapidly, to collect all his strength for the fatal
blow. All knew it would fall, but none knew where, until he had
collected his utmost strength, and then, with the electrical flash of
his eye, he would mark the victim, and the thundering crash of his
vengeance, in words of vehemence, charged with the most caustic satire,
would fall upon, and crush the devoted head of his scarce suspecting
foe. I remember, upon one occasion, pending the debate upon the
Missouri question, and when Mr. Randolph was in the habit of almost
daily addressing the house, that a Mr. Beecher, of Ohio, who was very
impatient with Randolph's tirades, would, in the lengthy pauses made by
him, rise from his place, and move the previous question. The Speaker
would reply: "The member from Virginia has the floor." The first and
second interruption was not noticed by Randolph, but upon the
repetition a third time, he slowly lifted his head from contemplating
his notes, and said: "Mr. Speaker, in the Netherlands, a man of small
capacity, with bits of wood and leather, will, in a few moments,
construct a toy that, with the pressure of the finger and thumb, will
cry 'Cuckoo! Cuckoo!' With less of ingenuity, and with inferior
materials, the people of Ohio have made a toy that will, without much
pressure, cry, 'Previous question, Mr. Speaker! Previous question, Mr.
Speaker!'" at the same time designating Beecher, by pointing at him
with his long, skeleton-looking finger. In a moment the House was
convulsed with laughter, and I doubt if Beecher ever survived the
sarcasm.
At the time Mr. Clay came into Congress, Randolph had no rival upon the
floor of the House. He had become a terror to timid men. Few ventured
to meet him in debate, and none to provoke him. Mr. Clay's reputation
had preceded him. He had before, for a short time, been in the Senate.
He was known to be the first orator in the West, and the West boasted
Doddridge, Humphrey Marshall, John Rowan, Jesse Bledsoe, John Pope, and
Felix Grundy.
It was not long, before these two met in debate upon the subject of the
national road. Randolph opposed this measure as unconstitutional,
denying to the General Government any power to make any improvements
within the limits of any State, without the consent of the State. Mr.
Clay claimed the power under that grant which constituted Congress
competent to establish post-offices and post-roads. The discussion was
an excited one. Mr. Clay was a Virginian, but not of Randolph's class;
besides, he was not now from Virginia, and Randolph chose to designate
him a degenerate, renegade son of the Old Dominion. He had been reared,
as Randolph, a Democrat of the Jeffersonian school. In this he was an
apostate from the ancient faith. Randolph fully expected an easy
victory, and no man upon the floor was more surprised than himself, at
the bold, eloquent, and defiant reply of Clay. Between them the combat
was fierce and protracted. Randolph had the mortification of seeing
Western Virginia moving with Clay, and the entire representation of the
Western States joining with them. Clay was triumphant. The measure
became a law, the road was built, and a monument was erected to Mr.
Clay in Western Virginia, and by Virginians. It stands in a beautiful
valley, immediately on the road's side. From that time until, as old
men, they met in mortal combat upon the banks of the Potomac, they were
rivals and enemies.
Randolph was rancorous in his hatred of Clay. In proportion as Clay
rose in the estimation of his countrymen, did Randolph's hate increase.
Clay sprang from the plebeian stock of his native Virginia. He had come
as the representative of the rustics of Kentucky. He was not sanctified
by a college diploma. He boasted no long line of ancestry, and yet he
had met, and triumphed over, the scions of a boasted line--had bearded
the aristocrat upon the field of his fame, and vanquished him. This
triumph was followed up, in quick succession, with many others. He was
now the cynosure of the nation, and the star of Randolph was waning.
His disregard of Randolph's proposition, to withdraw from Congress and
denounce the Union, and his success in effecting this compromise,
sublimated Randolph's hatred, and no opportunity was permitted to pass
unimproved for abuse of him as a politician, and as a man.
William Lowndes, after Clay, exercised more influence in the House than
any other man. He was a South Carolinian, and of distinguished family.
His health, at this time, was failing: it had always been delicate. Mr.
Lowndes was comparatively a young man. He was remarkably tall: perhaps
six feet six inches. He stood a head and shoulders above any man in
Congress. His hair was golden; his complexion, clear and pale, and his
eyes were deep blue, and very expressive. He had been elaborately
educated, and improved by foreign travel, extensive reading, and
research. As a belles-lettres scholar, he was superior even to Mr.
Randolph. Very retiring and modest in his demeanor, he rarely obtruded
himself upon the House. When he did, it seemed only to remind the House
of something which had been forgotten by his predecessors in debate.
Sometimes he would make a set speech. When he did, it was always
remarkable for profound reasoning, and profound thought. He was
suffering with disease of the lungs, and his voice was weak: so much so
that he never attempted to elevate it above a conversational tone. So
honest was he in his views, so learned and so unobtrusive, that he had
witched away the heart of the House. No man was so earnestly listened
to as Mr. Lowndes. His mild and persuasive manner, his refined and
delicate deportment in debate and social intercourse captivated every
one; and at a time when acrimonious feelings filled almost every
breast, there was no animosity for Mr. Lowndes. His impression upon the
nation had made him the favored candidate of every section for the next
President; and it is not, perhaps, saying too much, that had his life
been spared, he, and not John Quincy Adams, would have been the
President in 1824. He would have been to all an acceptable candidate.
His talents, his virtues, his learning, and his broad patriotism had
very much endeared him to the intelligence of the country. At that time
these attributes were expected in the President, and none were
acceptable without them. Mr. Lowndes in very early life gave evidence
of future usefulness and distinction. His thirst for knowledge, intense
application, and great capacity to acquire, made him conspicuous at
school, and in college. He entered manhood already distinguished by his
writings. While yet very young he travelled in Europe, and for the
purpose of mental improvement. Knowledge was the wife of his heart, and
he courted her with affectionate assiduity. An anecdote is related of
him illustrative of his character and attainments. While in London, he
was left alone at his hotel, where none but men of rank and distinction
visited, with a gentleman much his senior; neither knew the other. A
social instinct, (though not very prominent in an Englishman,) induced
conversation. After a time the gentleman left the apartment and was
returning to the street, when he encountered the Duke of Argyle. This
gentleman was William Roscoe, of Liverpool, and author of "The Life of
Leo the Tenth."
"I have been spending a most agreeable hour," he said to the Duke,
"with a young American gentleman, who is the tallest, wisest, and best
bred young man I have ever met."
"It must have been Mr. Lowndes, of South Carolina," replied the Duke.
"He is such a man, I know him and I know no other like him. Return and
let me make you his acquaintance." He did so, and the acquaintance then
commenced, ripened into a friendship which endured so long as they both
lived.
Blue eyes, of a peculiar languid expression; yellow hair, lank and
without gloss; with a soft sunny sort of complexion, seems ever to
indicate physical weakness. Indeed, pale colors in all nature point to
brief existence, want of stamina and capacity to endure. All of these
combined in the physical organization of Mr. Lowndes, and served to
make more conspicuous the brilliancy of his intellect. It has been
said, consumption sublimates the mind, stealing from the body,
etherealizing and intensifying the intellect. This was peculiarly the
case in the instance of Mr. Lowndes. As the disease progressed,
attenuating and debilitating the physical man, his intellectual
faculties grew brighter, and brighter, assuming a lucidity almost
supernatural. At length he passed from time while yet young, leaving a
vacuum which in South Carolina has never been filled. His death was at
a time his services were most needed, and as with Clay, Jackson, and
Webster; his death was a national calamity.
Conspicuous among the remarkable men of that era was Louis McLean, of
Delaware. He belonged to the Republican school of politics, and was a
very honest and able man. He combined very many most estimable traits
in his character; open and frank, without concealment; cheerful and
mild, without bitterness, and with as few prejudices as any public man.
Yet he was consistent and firm in his political opinions and
principles, as he was devoted and tenacious in his friendships. He was
extremely considerate of the feelings and prejudices of other
people--had a large stock of charity for the foibles and follies of his
friends and political antagonists. In social intercourse he was quite
as familiar and intimate with these as with his political friends.
Difference of political principles did not close his eyes to the
virtues and worth of any man, and his respect for talent and
uprightness was always manifest in his public and private intercourse
with those who differed with him in opinion. His was a happy
constitution, and one well fitted to win him friends. Personally, with
the exception of Mr. Lowndes, he was perhaps the most popular man upon
the floor of the House of Representatives. The influence of his
character and talent was very great, and his geographical position
added greatly to these in his efforts upon the Missouri question. His
speech was widely read, and no one found fault with it. It was a
masterly effort and added greatly to his extended fame.
In the character of Mr. McLean there was a very happy combination of
gentleness with firmness. He carried this into his family, and its
influence has made of his children a monument to his fame; they have
distinguished, in their characters and conduct, the name and the
virtues of their father. It may be said of him what cannot be said of
many distinguished men, his children were equal to the father in
talent, usefulness, and virtue.
The Administration of Mr. Monroe saw expire the Federal and Republican
parties, as organized under the Administration of John Adams. It saw
also the germ of the Democratic and Whig parties planted. It was a
prosperous Administration, and under it the nation flourished like a
green bay-tree. He was the last of the Presidents who had actively
participated in the war of the Revolution. To other virtues and
different merits, those who now aspire to the high distinction of the
Presidency must owe their success. There must always be a cause for
distinction. However great the abilities of a man or exalted his
virtues, he must in some manner make a display of them before the
public eye, or he must of necessity remain in obscurity. War developes
more rapidly and more conspicuously the abilities of men than any other
public employment. Gallantry and successful conflict presents the
commander and subalterns at once prominently before the country;
besides military fame addresses itself to every capacity, and strange
as it may seem, there is no quality so popular with man and woman, too,
as the art of successfully killing our fellow-man, and devastating his
country. It is ever a successful claim to public honors and political
preferments. No fame is so lasting as a military fame. Cæsar and
Hannibal are names, though they lived two thousand years ago, familiar
in the mouths of every one, and grow brighter as time progresses.
Philip and his more warlike son, Alexander, are names familiar to the
learned and illiterate, alike; while those who adorned the walks of
civil life with virtues, and godlike abilities, are only known to those
who burrow in musty old books, and search out the root of civilization
enjoyed by modern nations. They who fought at Cannæ and Marathon, at
Troy and at Carthage, are household names; while those who invented the
plough and the spade, and first taught the cultivation of the earth,
the very base of civilization, are unknown--never thought of. Such is
human nature.
The war of 1812 had developed one or two men only of high military
genius, and the furor for military men had not then become a mania.
Abilities for civil government were considered essential in him who was
to be elevated to the Presidency. Indeed, it was not so much a
warrior's fame which had controlled in the election of the previous
Presidents, as their high intellectual reputations. Washington had
rendered such services to the country, both as a military man and a
civilian, that his name was the nation. He had been everywhere
designated as the father of his country, and such was the public
devotion, that he had only to ask it, and a despot's crown would have
adorned his brow. John Adams, Jefferson, and Madison had no military
record; but in the capacity of civilians had rendered essential service
to the cause of the Revolution. Their Administrations had been
successful, and the public mind attributed this success to their
abilities as statesmen, and desired to find as their successors, men of
like minds, and similar attainments. Crawford, Calhoun, Clay, John
Quincy Adams, and Lowndes, had all of them given evidences of eminent
statesmanship, and the public mind among these was divided. At the time
of the death of Lowndes, this mind was rapidly concentrating upon him,
as more eminently uniting the desired qualifications than any other.
It was about this very time that General Jackson's name began to
attract the public as a prominent candidate. Mr. Calhoun was ready to
retire from the contest, and it is very probable his friends would have
united in the support of Lowndes, but he being out of the way, they
united upon Jackson. When Jackson was first spoken of as a candidate,
most men of intelligence viewed it as a mere joke, but very soon the
admiration for his military fame was apparent in the delight manifested
by the masses, when he was brought prominently forward. That thirst for
military glory, and the equally ardent thirst to do homage to the
successful military man, was discovered to be as innate and
all-pervading with the American people, as with any other of the most
warlike nations. Had the name of Jackson been brought before the people
six months earlier than it was, he would, most assuredly, have been
triumphantly elected by the popular vote. It would be fruitless to
speculate upon what might have been the consequences to the country had
he been then chosen. Besides, such is foreign to my purpose. I mean
merely to record memories of men and things which have come under my
eye and to my knowledge, for the last fifty years, and which I may
suppose will be interesting to the general reader, and particularly to
the young, who are just now coming into position as men and women, and
who will constitute the controlling element in society and in the
Government. To those of my own age, it may serve to awaken
reminiscences of a by-gone age, and enable them to contrast the men and
things of now and then.