WHEN SUCCESSFUL, RIGHT; WHEN NOT, WRONG.
TERRITORIAL MISSISSIPPI--WILKINSON--ADAMS--JEFFERSON--WARREN--CLAIBORNE
--UNION OF THE FACTIONS--COLONEL WOOD--CHEW--DAVID HUNT--JOSEPH
DUNBAR--SOCIETY OF WESTERN MISSISSIPPI--POP VISITS OF A WEEK TO
TEA--THE HORSE "TOM" AND HIS RIDER--OUR GRANDFATHER'S DAYS--AN
EMIGRANT'S OUTFIT--MY SHARE--GEORGE POINDEXTER--A SUDDEN OPENING OF A
COURT OF JUSTICE--THE CALDWELL AND GWINN DUEL--JACKSON'S OPPOSITION TO
THE GOVERNOR OF MISSISSIPPI.
The Counties of Wilkinson, Adams, Jefferson, Claiborne, and Warren are
the river counties carved from the territory first settled in the State
of Mississippi. The settlements along the Mississippi came up from New
Orleans and went gradually up the stream. The English or American
immigration to that river antedated but a very short time the war of
the Revolution. The commencement of this war accelerated the
settlement, many seeking an asylum from the horrors of war within the
peaceful borders of this new and faraway land. The five counties above
named constituted the County of Bourbon when the jurisdiction of the
United States was extended to the territory. Very soon after it was
divided into three counties--Wilkinson, Adams, and Jefferson; and
subsequently, as the population increased, Claiborne and Warren were
organized and established. These counties were named after John Adams,
Thomas Jefferson, General Wilkinson, General Warren, who fell at
Bunker's Hill, and General Ferdinand Claiborne, a distinguished citizen
of the Territory. As a Territory, Mississippi extended to and comprised
all the territory east to the Alabama River or to the Georgia line. In
fact, there was no distinct eastern boundary until the admission of the
State into the Union.
The leading men of the communities first formed in the five counties on
the Mississippi were men of intelligence and substance. The very first
were those who, to avoid the consequences of the war of the Revolution,
had sought security here. Some, who conscientiously scrupled as to
their duty in that conflict--unwilling to violate an allegiance which
they felt they owed to the British crown, and equally unwilling to take
part against their kindred and neighbors--had left their homes and come
here. There were not a few of desperate character, who had come to
avoid the penalties of the criminal laws of the countries from which
they had fled. The descendants of all these constitute a large element
of the population of these counties at the present moment. Some of
these sustain the character of their ancestors in an eminent degree;
others again are everything but what their parents were.
One feature of the country is different from that of almost any other
portion of the United States. The descendants of the first pioneers are
all there. There has been no emigration from the country. The
consequence is that intermarriages have made nearly all the descendants
of the pioneers relatives. In very many instances these marriages have
united families whose ancient feuds are traditions of the country.
The opprobrium attached to the name of Tory (which was freely given to
all who had either avoided the war by emigration, or who had remained
and taken part against the colonies, and then, to avoid the disgrace
they had earned at home, and also to escape the penalties of the laws
of confiscation, had brought here their property) induced most families
to observe silence respecting their early history, or the causes which
brought them to the country, and especially to their children. This was
true even as late as forty years ago. There were then in these counties
many families of wealth and polish, whose ancestors were obnoxious on
account of this damaging imputation; and it was remembered as a
tradition carefully handed down by those who at a later day came to the
country from the neighborhoods left by these families, and in most
instances for crimes of a much more heinous character than obedience to
conscientious allegiance to the Government. But success had made
allegiance treachery, and rebellion allegiance. Success too often
sanctifies acts which failure would have made infamous.
"Be it so! though right trampled be counted for wrong,
And that pass for right which is evil victorious,
Here, where virtue is feeble and villany strong,
'Tis the cause, not the fate of a cause, that is glorious."
The inviting character of the soil and climate induced (as soon as a
settled form of government promised protection) rapid emigration to the
country. This came from every part of the United States. Those coming
from the same State usually located as nearly as practicable in the
same neighborhood, and to this day many of these are designated by the
name of the country or State from which they came. There are in the
County of Jefferson two neighborhoods known to-day as the Maryland
settlement and the Scotch settlement, and the writer has many
memories--very pleasant ones, too--of happy hours in the long past
spent with some of nature's noblemen who were inhabitants of these
communities.
Who that has ever sojourned for a time in this dear old county, does
not remember the generous and elegant hospitality of Colonel Wood,
Joseph Dunbar, and Mr. Chew; nor must I forget that truly noble-hearted
man, David Hunt, the founder of Oakland College, whose charitable
munificence was lordly in character, but only commensurate with his
soul and great wealth. It seems invidious to individualize the
hospitality of this community, where all were so distinguished; but I
cannot forbear my tribute of respect--my heart's gratitude--to Wood and
Dunbar. I came among these people young and a stranger, poor, and
struggling to get up in the world. These two opened their hearts, their
doors, and their purses to me; but it was not alone to me. Should all
who have in like circumstances been the recipients of their generous
and unselfish kindnesses record them as I am doing, the story of their
munificent generosity and open, exalted hospitality would seem an
Eastern romance.
They have been long gathered to their fathers; but so long as any live
who knew them, their memories will be green and cherished. In this
neighborhood was built the first Protestant Episcopal Church in the
State, and here worshipped the Woods, Dunbars, MacGruders, Shields,
Greens, and others composing the settlement. The descendants of these
families still remain in that neighborhood, where anterior to the late
war was accumulated great wealth. The topography of the country is
beautifully picturesque with hills and dales, and all exceedingly
fertile. These hills are a continuation of the formation commencing at
Vicksburg, and extending to Bayou Sara. They are peculiar, and seem to
have been thrown over the primitive formation by some extraordinary
convulsion, and are of a sandy loam. No marine shells are found in
them; but occasionally trees and leaves are exhumed at great depths. No
water is found in this loam by digging or boring; but after passing
through this secondary formation, the humus or soil of the primitive is
reached--the leaves and limbs of trees superincumbent on this
indicating its character--then the sand and gravel, and very soon
water, as in other primitive formations. These hills extend back from
the river in an irregular line from ten to fifteen miles, and are
distinguished by a peculiar growth of timber and smaller shrubs.
The magnolias and poplars, with linn, red oak, and black walnut, are
the principal trees. There is no pine, but occasionally an enormous
sassafras, such as are found in no other section on this continent.
There is no stone, and no running water except streams having their
rise in the interior, passing through these hills to their debouchment
into the river. The entire formation is a rich compost, and in great
part soluble in water; this causes them to wash, and when not
cultivated with care, they cut into immense gullies and ravines. They
are in some places almost mountainous in height and exceedingly
precipitous. They are designated at different localities by peculiar
names--as the Walnut Hills, Grand Hills, Petit Gulf Hills, Natchez
Hills, and St. Catherine Hills. In primitive forest they presented a
most imposing appearance.
Large and lofty timber covered from base to summit these hills,
increasing their grandeur by lifting to their height the immense vines
found in great abundance all over them. The dense wild cane, clothing
as a garment the surface of every acre, went to the very tops of the
highest hills, adding a strange feature to hill scenery. The river only
approaches these hills in a few places and always at right angles, and
is by them deflected, leaving them always on the outer curve of the
semicircle or bend in the stream. From these points and from the summit
of these cliffs the view is very fine, stretching often in many places
far up and down the river and away over the plain west of the river,
which seems to repose upon its lap as far as the eye can view. The
scene is sombre, but grand, especially when lighted by the evening's
declining sun. The plain is unbroken by any elevation: the immense
trees rise to a great height, and all apparently to the same level--the
green foliage in summer strangely commingling with the long gray moss
which festoons from the upper to the lower limbs, waving as a garland
in the fitful wind; and the dead gray of the entire scene in winter is
sad and melancholy as a vast cemetery. There is a gloomy grandeur in
this, which is only rivalled by that of the sea, when viewed from a
towering height, lazily lolling in the quiet of a summer evening's
calm.
To encounter the perils of a pioneer to such a country required men of
iron nerve. Such, with women who dared to follow them, to meet and to
share every danger and fearlessly to overcome every obstacle to their
enterprise, coming from every section of the United States, formed
communities and introduced the arts and industry of civilization, to
subdue these forests and compel the soil to yield its riches for the
use of man. From these had grown a population, fifty years ago,
combining the daring and noble traits of human character which lie at
the base of a grand and chivalrous civilization. Such men were the
leaders and controllers of the society at that time, assuming a uniform
and homogeneous character throughout the western portion of the State.
The invasion of New Orleans had endangered this section, and to a man
they rallied to meet the foe. More than half the male population of
that portion of the State were at New Orleans and in the trenches on
the memorable 8th of January, 1815. Their conduct upon that occasion
was distinguished, and won from General Jackson high commendation. The
charge of the Mississippi cavalry, commanded by General Thomas Hinds,
the General, in his report of the battle, said, excited the admiration
of one army and the astonishment of the other.
This campaign brought together the younger portion of the male
population of the State, and under such circumstances as to make them
thoroughly to know each other. These men were the prominent personages
of the State forty years ago, and they formed the character of the
population and inspired the gallantry and chivalry of spirit which so
distinguished the troops of Mississippi in the late unfortunate civil
war--in all, but in none so conspicuously, in this spirit and nobleness
of soul and sentiment, as in the characters of Jefferson Davis and John
A. Quitman--foremost to take up arms in the war with Mexico, resigning
high positions for the duties of the soldier, to follow the flag, and
avenge the insults of a presumptuous foe.
The society of Western Mississippi, forty years ago, was distinguished
above any other in the Union, for a bold, generous, and frank
character, which lent a peculiar charm. It was polished, yet it was
free and unreserved, full of the courtesies of life, with the rough
familiarity of a coarser people. The sports of the turf were pursued
with enthusiastic ardor. The chase for the fox and the red deer
pervaded almost universally the higher walks of life. The topography of
the country was such as to make these, in the fearless rides they
compelled, extremely hazardous, familiarizing their votaries with
danger and inspiring fearlessness and daring. Almost every gentleman
had his hunting steed and kennel of hounds; and at the convivial dinner
which always followed the hunt, he could talk horse and hound with the
zest of a groom or whipper-in, and at the evening _soirée_ emulate
D'Orsay or Chesterfield in the polish of his manners and the elegance
of his conversation. This peculiarity was not alone confined to the
gentlemen. The ladies were familiar with every household duty, and
attended to them: they caught from their husbands and brothers the open
frankness of their bearing and conversation, a confident, yet not a
bold or offensive bearing in their homes and in society, with a
polished refinement and an elevation of sentiment in all they said or
did, which made them to me the most charming and lovely of their
sex--and which made Mississippi forty years ago the most desirable
place of rural residence in the Union.
The conduct of these people was universally lofty and honorable. A
fawning sycophancy or little meannesses were unknown; social
intercourse was unrestrained because all were honorable, and that
reserve which so plainly speaks suspicion of your company was never
seen. There was no habit of canvassing the demerits of a neighbor or
his affairs. The little backbitings and petty slanders which so
frequently mar the harmony of communities, was never indulged or
tolerated. Homogeneous in its character, the population was harmonious.
United in the same pursuits, the emulation was kind and honorable. The
tone and purity was superior to low and debasing vices, and these and
their concomitants were unknown. There were few dram-shops or places of
low resort, and these only for the lower and more debased of the
community. Fortunately, fifty years ago, there were but few such
characters, no meetings for gaming or debauchery, and the social
communion of the people was chaste and cordial at their hospitable and
elegant homes.
A peculiar feature of the society of the river counties was the perfect
freedom of manners, and yet the high polish, the absence of
neighborhood discord, and the strict regard for personal and pecuniary
rights: a sort of universal confidence pervaded every community, and in
every transaction personal honor supplied the place of litigation.
Strangers of respectable appearance were not met with apparent
suspicion, but with hospitable kindness; and especially was this the
case toward young men who professedly came in search of a new home and
new fields for the exercise of their abilities professionally, or for
the more profitable employment of any means they might to have brought
to the country. Now, at seventy years of age, and after the experience
of half a century of men and society in almost every portion of the
Union, I can truthfully say, nowhere have I ever met so truthful, so
generous, and so hospitable a people as the planters and gentlemen of
the river counties of Mississippi, fifty years ago--nowhere women more
refined, yet affable; so modest, yet frank and open in their social
intercourse; so dignified, without austerity; so chaste and pure in
sentiment and action, without prudery or affectation, as the mothers,
wives, and daughters of those planters.
The Bench and the Bar were distinguished for ability and purity; many
of these have left national reputations--all of them honorable names to
their families and profession. Nor were the physicians less
distinguished. The names of Provan, McPheters, Cartwright, Ogden,
Parker, Cox, and Dennie will be remembered when all who were their
compeers shall have passed away, as ornaments to their profession.
There is one other, still living at a very advanced age, who was
perhaps the superior of any I have mentioned--James Metcalf, who not
only was and is an ornament to his profession, but to human nature. He
is one of the few surviving monuments of the men of fifty years ago.
His life has been eminently useful and eminently pure. He has lived to
see his children emulating his example as virtuous and useful citizens,
above reproach, and an honor to their parents.
There was not, perhaps, in the Union, a stronger Bar in any four
counties than here--Childs, Gibbs, Worley, George Adams, (the father of
Generals Daniel and Wirt Adams,) Robert H. Adams, (who died a Senator
in the United States Congress when it was an honor to fill the
position,) Lyman Harding, W.B. Griffith, John A. Quitman, Joseph E.
Davis, (the elder brother of Jefferson Davis,) Thomas B. Reid, Robert
J. and Duncan Walker. Time has swept on, and but one of all these
remains in life--Robert J. Walker. Edward Tuner, then the presiding
judge of the District Court, was a Kentuckian. Four brothers immigrated
to the country about the same time. Two remained at Natchez, one at
Bayou Sara, in Louisiana, and the fourth went to New Orleans. All
became distinguished: three as lawyers, who honored the Bench in their
respective localities, and the fourth as a merchant and planter
accumulated an immense fortune.
The planters almost universally resided upon their plantations, and
their habits were rural and temperate. Their residences were
unostentatious, but capacious and comfortable, with every attachment
which could secure comfort or contribute to their pleasure. The
plantation houses for the slaves were arranged conveniently together,
constituting with the barns, stabling, and gin-houses a neat village.
The grounds about the residences were covered with forest-trees
carefully preserved; shrubs and flowers were cultivated with exquisite
taste among these and over the garden grounds around and beyond them.
Social intercourse was of the most cordial and unrestrained character.
It was entirely free from that embarrassing ceremony which in urban
communities makes it formal, stiff, and a mere ceremony. It was
characterized by high-breeding, which made it not only unrestrained but
polished, cultivating the heart and the manners to feeling and
refinement; making society what it should be--a source of enjoyment and
heart-happiness, free from jealousies, rivalries, and regrets.
The distances from plantation to plantation were such as to preclude
visiting as a simple call; consequently calls were for spending a day
to dine, or an evening to tea, to a rural ride, or some amusement
occupying at least half a day, and not unfrequently half a week. Every
planter built his house, if not with a view to architectural symmetry
and beauty, at least with ample room to entertain his friends, come
they in ever such numbers, and his hospitality was commensurate with
his house--as capacious and as unpretending. It was the universal habit
for both ladies and gentlemen to ride on horseback. The beauty of the
forest, through which ran the roads and by-ways--its fragrant
blooms--its dark, dense foliage, invited to such exercise; and social
reunions were frequently accomplished in the cool shades of these grand
old forests by parties ruralizing on horseback when the sun was low,
and the shade was sweet, which led them to unite and visit, as
unexpectedly as they were welcome, some neighbor, where without
ceremony the evening was spent in rural and innocent amusement--a
dance, a game of whist or euchre--until weary with these; and on the
arrival of the hour for rest they left, and galloped home in the soft
moonlight, respectively flushed with health-giving exercise, and only
sufficiently fatigued to be able to sleep well.
Nowhere does a splendid woman appear to more advantage than on
horseback. Trained from early girlhood to horseback exercise, she
learns to sit fearlessly and control absolutely the most fiery steed,
to accommodate herself to his every motion, and in his movements to
display the ease and grace of this control and confidence. Nowhere on
earth were to be found more splendid women or more intrepid riders than
the daughters of the planters of Mississippi fifty years ago. Each was
provided for her especial use with an animal of high blood, finished
form, and well-trained gait. Daily intercourse familiarized rider and
horse, and an attachment grew up between them that was always
manifested by both upon meeting. It was said by Napoleon that his
parade-horse knew and recognized him, and bore himself with more pride
and spirit when he was in the saddle than when mounted by any other.
Whoever has accustomed himself to treat kindly his saddle-horse, and to
suffer no one but himself to ride him, can well understand this. I
remember a horse and his rider among my early acquaintances on the
banks of the Mississippi, whose mutual attachment was so remarkable as
to excite the wonder of strangers. That rider was a true woman--kind,
gentle, and yet full of spirit. Affectionate as she was fearless, she
had importuned her brother for the gift of a fine young blood-horse,
which he gave her upon the condition that she would ride him. She was
an experienced rider, and promised.
After a few days of close intimacy, she ventured to mount him. To the
astonishment of every one he was perfectly docile, and moved away
gently, but with an air of pride, as if conscious of the precious
burden he bore. From that time forward no one was permitted to ride him
but the lady, who visited him every day in his stall, and always
carried him a loaf of bread or a cup of sugar, and never mounted him
without going to his front and holding a conversation with pretty Tom,
stroking his head with her gentle hand, and giving him a lump of sugar
or a biscuit. He was allowed the liberty of the yard, to graze on the
young sweet grass of the front lawn, and luxuriate in the shade of the
princely trees which grew over it. One or many ladies might go out upon
the gallery and remain unnoticed by Tom. The moment, however, that his
mistress came, and he saw her or heard her voice, he would neigh in
recognition of her presence, and bound immediately forward to the
house, manifesting in his eye and manner great pleasure. This was
kindly returned by the lady always descending the steps and gently
stroking his head, which he would affectionately rest against her
person. He would follow her over the yard like a pet spaniel; but he
would do this for no one else. He knew her voice, and would obey it,
and bound to her call with the alacrity of a child. His pleasure at her
coming to mount him, when saddled for a ride, was so marked as to
excite astonishment. He would carefully place himself for her
convenience, and stand quiet after she was in the saddle until her
riding-skirt was adjusted and her foot well in the stirrup, and then
she would only say, "Now, Tom!" when he would arch his neck and move
off with a playful bound, and curvet about the grounds until she would
lay her hand upon his mane, and, gently patting his neck, say, "There,
Tom!" Then the play was over, and he went gallantly forward, obediently
and kindly as a reasoning being.
The young reader will excuse this garrulity of age: it is its
privilege; and I am writing my recollections of bygone years, and none
are more pleasant than those which recall to me this great woman--the
delightful hours spent in her society at the hospitable home of her
family. She still lives, an aged woman, respected by all, and honored
in the great merits of her children. Like Tom, they were affectionately
trained; and like Tom, they were dutiful in their conduct, and live to
perpetuate her intelligence and the noble attributes of her glorious
heart. Should these lines ever meet her eye, she will remember the
writer, and recall the delightful rides and happy hours spent together
a long time ago. We are both in the winter of life, time's uses are
almost ended, and all that is blissful now are the memories of the
past. Dear Fannie, close the book and your eyes, turn back to fifty
years ago, and to the memories common to us both, give the heart one
brief moment to these, and, as now I do, drop a tear to them.
The population in the four river counties, at the time of which I
write, was much more dense than of any other portion of the State:
still there were numerous settlements in different parts of the State
quite populous. That upon Pearl River, of these, perhaps, was most
populous; but those eastern settlements were constituted of a different
people: most of them were from the poorer districts of Georgia and the
Carolinas. True to the instincts of the people from whom they were
descended, they sought as nearly as possible just such a country as
that from which they came, and were really refugees from a growing
civilization consequent upon a denser population and its necessities.
They were not agriculturists in a proper sense of the term; true, they
cultivated in some degree the soil, but it was not the prime pursuit of
these people, nor was the location sought for this purpose. They
desired an open, poor, pine country, which forbade a numerous
population.
Here they reared immense herds of cattle, which subsisted exclusively
upon the coarse grass and reeds which grew abundantly among the tall,
long-leafed pine, and along the small creeks and branches numerous in
this section. Through these almost interminable pine-forests the deer
were abundant, and the canebrakes full of bears. They combined the
pursuits of hunting and stock-minding, and derived support and revenue
almost exclusively from these. They were illiterate and careless of the
comforts of a better reared, better educated, and more intelligent
people. They were unable to employ for each family a teacher, and the
population was too sparse to collect the children in a neighborhood
school. These ran wild, half naked, unwashed and uncombed, hatless and
bonnetless through the woods and grass, followed by packs of lean and
hungry curs, hallooing and yelling in pursuit of rabbits and opossums,
and were as wild as the Indians they had supplanted, and whose
pine-bark camps were yet here and there to be seen, where temporarily
stayed a few strolling, degraded families of Choctaws.
Some of these pioneers had been in the country many years, were
surrounded with descendants, men and women, the growth of the country,
rude, illiterate, and independent. Along the margins of the streams
they found small strips of land of better quality than the pine-forests
afforded. Here they grew sufficient corn for bread and a few of the
coarser vegetables, and in blissful ignorance enjoyed life after the
manner they loved. The country gave character to the people: both were
wild and poor; both were _sui generis_ in appearance and production,
and both seeming to fall away from the richer soil and better people of
the western portion of the State.
Between them and the inhabitants of the river counties there was little
communication and less sympathy; and I fancy no country on earth of the
same extent presented a wider difference in soil and population,
especially one speaking the same language and professing the same
religion. Time, and the pushing a railroad through this eastern portion
of the State, have effected vast changes for the better, and among
these quaintly called piney-woods people now are families of wealth and
cultivation. But in the main they are yet rude and illiterate.
Not ten years since, I spent some time in Eastern Mississippi. I met at
his home a gentleman I had made the acquaintance of in New Orleans. He
is a man of great worth and fine intelligence: his grandfather had
emigrated to the country in 1785 from Emanuel County, Georgia. His
grandson says: "He carried with him a small one-horse cart pulled by an
old gray mare, one feather bed, an oven, a frying-pan, two pewter
dishes, six pewter plates, as many spoons, a rifle gun, and three
deer-hounds. He worried through the Creek Nation, extending then from
the Oconee River to the Tombigbee.
"After four months of arduous travel he found his way to Leaf River,
and there built his cabin; and with my grandmother, and my father, who
was born on the trip in the heart of the Creek Nation, commenced to
make a fortune. He found on a small creek of beautiful water a little
bay land, and made his little field for corn and pumpkins upon that
spot: all around was poor, barren pine woods, but he said it was a good
range for stock; but he had not an ox or cow on the face of the earth.
The truth is, it looked like Emanuel County. The turpentine smell, the
moan of the winds through the pine-trees, and nobody within fifty miles
of him, was too captivating a concatenation to be resisted, and he
rested here.
"About five years after he came, a man from Pearl River was driving
some cattle by to Mobile, and gave my grandfather two cows to help him
drive his cattle. It was over one hundred miles, and you would have
supposed it a dear bargain; but it turned out well, for the old man in
about six weeks got back with six other head of cattle. How or where,
or from whom he got them is not one of the traditions of the family.
From these he commenced to rear a stock which in time became large.
"My father and his brothers and sisters were getting large enough to
help a little; but my grandfather has told me that my father was nine
years old before he ever tasted a piece of bacon or pork. When my
father was eighteen years of age he went with a drove of beef cattle to
New Orleans. He first went to Baton Rouge, thence down the river. He
soon sold out advantageously; for he came home with a young negro man
and his wife, some money, and my mother, whom he had met and married on
the route. Well, from those negroes, and eight head of cattle, all the
family have come to have something.
"I was born nine months after that trip, and grew up, as father had
done before me, on the banks of that little creek. I doubt if there
ever was a book in my grandfather's house. I certainly never remember
to have seen one there, and I was sixteen years old when he died. I
think I was very nearly that old before I ever saw any woman but those
of the family, and I know I was older than that before ever I wore
shoes or pants. Nearly every year father went to Mobile, or Natchez, or
New Orleans. The first time I ever knew my mother had a brother, I was
driving up the cows, and a tall, good-looking man overtook me in the
road and asked where my father lived. I remember I told him, 'At home.'
He thought it was impudence, but it was ignorance. However, he was
quite communicative and friendly.
"That night, after the family had gone to bed, I heard him tell mother
her father was dead, and that he had disinherited her for running off
and marrying father. I did not know what this meant; but the next day
father came and told mother that her brother wanted to be kind to her,
and had proposed to give him a thousand dollars out of the estate of
her father, if he and she would take it and sign off. That was the
word. I shall not forget, so long as I live, my mother's looks as she
walked up to father and said: 'Don't you do it, John. John, I say,
don't you do it.' Uncle had gone down to grandfather's, and when he
came back, mother had his horse saddled at the fence. She met him at
the door, and said: 'You don't come in here. There's your beast; mount
him, and go. I am not such a fool as my John. I was raised in
Louisiana, and I remember hearing my father say that all he hated in
the laws was that a man could not do with his property, when he died,
what he pleased. I haven't forgot that. I have not seen nor heard from
any of you for fifteen years, and never should, if you hadn't come here
to try to cheat me.'
"I was scared, and father was scared; for we knew there was danger when
mother's nap was up. Uncle did not reply to mother, but said: 'John,
you can sign off.'
"'No, John can't; and I tell you John shan't! so now do you just mount
that horse and leave.'
"As she said this she lifted the old rifle out of the rack over the
door and rubbed her hand over the barrel to get the sight clear. 'I am
not going to tell you to go any more.'
"It was not necessary--uncle went; but he kept looking back until he
was at least a quarter of a mile from the house. Mother turned to
father and said: 'Now, John, you go after my share of father's truck,
and go quick.' He did as she bid him: everybody about the house did
that. Well, he was gone three weeks, and came home with six thousand
dollars, which he had taken for mother's share; but she said she knew
he had been cheated.
"Every dollar of that money remained in the house until I got married
and came off here. I got two thousand of it, one negro, and two hundred
head of cattle. I had promised my wife's people that I would come and
live with them. I am glad I did. I was twenty-one years old when I
learned my letters. I have been lucky; have educated my children, and
they have educated me, and are talking about running me for Congress.
Well, my friend, I believe I could be elected; but that is a small part
of the business. I should be of no service to the State, and only show
my own ignorance. Come, Sue, can't you give the gentleman some music?
Give me my fiddle, and I will help you."
Sue was a beautiful and interesting girl of nineteen, only a short time
returned from a four-years residence at the famous Patapsco Institute.
She had music in her soul, and the art to pour it out through her
fingers' ends. It was an inheritance from her extraordinary father, as
any judge of music would have said, who had heard the notes melting
from that old black violin, on that rainy night in December. There are
not many such instances of men springing from such humble origin in
Eastern Mississippi; but this is not a solitary case.
There emigrated from different States, North and South, at a remote
period in the brief history of this new country, several young men of
talent and great energy, who not only distinguished themselves, but
shed lustre upon the State. Among the first of these was George
Poindexter, from Virginia; Rankin, from Georgia, (but born in
Virginia;) Thomas B. Reid, from Kentucky; Stephen Duncan, and James
Campbell Wilkins, from Pennsylvania. The most remarkable of these was
George Poindexter. He was a lawyer by profession and a Jeffersonian
Republican in politics. Very early in life he became the leader of that
party in the State, and was sent to Congress as its sole
representative. Very soon he obtained an enviable reputation in that
body as a statesman and a powerful debater. His mind was logical and
strong; his conception was quick and acute; his powers of combination
and application were astonishing; his wit was pointed and caustic, and
his sarcasm overwhelming. Unusually quick to perceive the weaker parts
of an opponent's argument, his ingenuity would seize these and turn
them upon him with a point and power not unfrequently confounding and
destroying the effect of all he had urged. From Congress to the
Gubernatorial chair of the State was the next step in his political
career, and it was in this capacity that he rendered the most signal
service to the State. As a lawyer, he was well aware of the wants of
the State in statutory provisions for the protection of the people.
These were wisely recommended, and, through his exertions, enacted into
laws.
The several Governments which had claimed and held jurisdiction over
the Territory of Mississippi had issued grants to companies and
individuals for large tracts of country in different portions of the
State. These grants had not been respected by the succeeding
Governments, or else the records had been lost or carried from the
country for a time; hence very many conflicting claims made insecure
the titles of the proprietors now settled upon these tracts, and were
fruitful of endless litigation. To remedy this evil, a statute was
recommended by Governor Poindexter and enacted into a law, compelling
suit to be commenced by all adverse claimants by a certain day. This
effectually cured the evil, and a suit to establish titles is now very
rare in Mississippi. As a judge he was able, prompt, impartial,
unrivalled in talent, and, at the same time, unsurpassed by any lawyer
in the State in legal learning. His administration of the laws was
eminently successful. The country was new, with the exception of a few
counties, and, as in all new and frontier countries, there were many
bad and desperate men. To purge these from society it was necessary
that the criminal laws should be strictly enforced. To do so required
decision and sternness in the character and conduct of the judges. Very
soon after Poindexter was placed on the Bench he manifested these
attributes in an eminent degree.
The stern, impartial justice administered to these lawless men, soon
created quite a sensation with the class to which they belonged, and
threats were freely thrown out against his life; but these had no
effect in intimidating him, or in changing his conduct. He went on
fearlessly to administer the law, which at that time, instead of
imprisonment, inflicted severe corporal punishments for many crimes
most common in a new country. These were branding with a hot iron in
the hand or on the cheek, whipping on the bare back, and public
exposure in the pillory. Not a court went by without some one of these
punishments being inflicted upon a male malefactor. Public opinion had
begun to look upon these penalties as barbarous, and in very many cases
great sympathy was manifested for the culprit.
This sentiment frequently operated with the jury, who were disposed to
deal leniently with the accused. This was resisted by Poindexter, and
effectually--for so clearly did he impress the minds of jurors with
what was their duty, that few escaped where the proof was sufficient to
convict; and once pronounced guilty, the extreme penalty of the law was
surely awarded. The beneficial influence of this stern and inflexible
administration of the laws was soon manifest, and the more orderly of
the population unhesitatingly gave their approbation and support to the
judge. He sustained in court the dignity of the Bench, restraining
alike the license of the Bar and the turbulence of the populace. To do
this, he was frequently compelled to exercise to the full the powers of
his office.
An amusing anecdote is related of him in connection with the discharge
of these duties. When holding court at one time in Natchez, he had sent
to jail a turbulent and riotous individual, who could in no other way
be restrained. This fellow, once incarcerated, professed great
contrition, and humbly petitioned for release, but Poindexter had
ordered the sheriff to keep him for a week, and could not be moved from
his position. At the expiration of the week he was released, and though
he was quiet and orderly, he remained lurking about town and the
court-room until the adjournment of court. He watched his opportunity,
and meeting the judge upon the street, commenced abusing him roundly;
finally telling him he had waited purposely for the opportunity of
whipping him, and that he intended then and there to do so. Poindexter,
perceiving the sheriff on the opposite side of the street, called to
him, and ordered him to open court then and there, which in all due
form the sheriff proceeded to do. The bully was startled, and the
judge, perceiving this, remarked to him authoritatively, "Now, you
scoundrel, be off with yourself, or I will put you in jail for one
year!"--when the blackguard speedily decamped, to the infinite
amusement of the crowd upon the street.
Governor Poindexter found at Natchez, and a few other localities,
strong opposition from the Federal party, then constituted almost
entirely of emigrants from Western Pennsylvania, with a sprinkling from
the more Eastern States. The party was small, but made up for this
deficiency in numbers with zeal and violence. As with all heated and
hating partisans, their malevolence was principally directed toward the
leaders of the opposing party.
Poindexter was the acknowledged leader of the Republican or
Jeffersonian party, and concentrated on himself the hatred of one and
the adoration of the other party. His triumphs were complete and
overwhelming in every election. He was not scrupulous in the use of
terms when speaking of his enemies. These anathemas, darting in the
caustic wit and voluble sarcasm so peculiarly his, went to the mark,
and kindled hatred into fury. It was determined to get rid of him. His
denunciations of Abijah Hunt, a prominent merchant and leading
Federalist, being more pointed and personal than toward any other, it
seemed incumbent on him to challenge Poindexter to mortal combat--an
arbitrament for the settlement of personal difficulties more frequently
resorted to at that period than at the present time. They met, and Hunt
was killed. But such was the violence of feeling with his party
friends, that they were determined Poindexter should not escape
unscathed, and he was denounced as having fired before the word agreed
upon in the terms of the conflict were fully enunciated. This, however,
effected but little, and he continued the idol of his party.
Unfortunately, that bane of genius, dissipation, was poisoning his
habits and undermining his reputation. It seems that exalted genius
feeds upon excitement, and in some shape must have it. The excitement
of active business at the Bar or in the halls of legislation must of
necessity be temporary, and the relaxation which follows this is
terrible to the excitable temperament of ardent genius. It craves
restlessly its natural food, and in the absence of all others, it seeks
for this in the intoxicating bowl or the gaming-table. How many
brilliant examples of this fatal fact does memory call up from the
untimely grave? These, culled from my seniors when I was a youth, from
my compeers in early manhood, from the youth I have seen grow up about
me, make a host whose usefulness has been lost to the world. Well may
the poet sing in melancholy verse that genius is a fatal gift. It
dazzles as a meteor with its superhuman light, and as soon fades into
darkness, lighting its path with a blaze of glory, astonishing and
delighting the world, but consuming itself with its own fire.
Poindexter had won greatly upon the affections of the people of the
Territory, in the active part he had taken, in connection with General
Ferdinand Claiborne and General Hinds, in stimulating the people to
prepare to meet the exigencies of the war of 1812 with Great Britain.
Her eastern territory was exposed to the inroads of the Creek Indians,
a large and warlike tribe, who were hostile to the United States, and
were in league with the English, and being armed by them. The Choctaws
and Chickasaws were on her northern frontier, and were threatening. An
invasion by the way of New Orleans by English troops was hourly
expected. It required great energy and activity to anticipate and guard
against these threatening dangers. Poindexter employed his time and his
influence to prepare the people to act efficiently and at a moment's
warning. When the threatened invasion became a reality, and General
Jackson was descending the river with troops as the American commander,
and when the militia were on the ground, and nothing remained to be
done in Mississippi, he promptly repaired to the scene of action and
volunteered his services to Jackson, who, accepting them, placed him on
his staff as a volunteer aide.
In this capacity he continued to serve until the end of the campaign
and the termination of the war. It was to him the negro or soldier
brought the celebrated countersign of "Beauty and booty," found on the
battle-field, and which he carried to General Jackson. His enemies laid
hold of this incident and perverted it slanderously to his injury, by
asserting the note to be a forgery of his, done for the purpose of
winning favor with the General, and to cast odium upon an enemy
incapable of issuing such an infamous countersign.
Those who have read the history of the various strongholds of the
French in Spain which were stormed during the Peninsular war, will
remember these were the same troops and the same commanders, who were
quite capable of the excesses in New Orleans that they committed in
Spain. This slander was never traced; but there were those remaining
who, when the breach occurred between General Jackson and Governor
Poindexter, asserted that General Jackson believed it, and who
circulated industriously the contemptible slander. Poindexter was an
active supporter of General Jackson's first election. He believed him
honest and capable, and deserving of the reward of the Presidency for
his services to the country. He thought, too, that he would bring back
the Government to its early simplicity and purity, and administer it
upon strictly republican principles. He, with very many of the
Jeffersonian school, felt it had diverged from the true track.
These people were opposed to protective tariffs, internal improvements
by the United States Government within the limits of a State without
the consent of the State, and a national bank, deeming all these
measures unconstitutional. The constitutionality of the bank had been
affirmed by the Supreme Court, and Poindexter had acquiesced in the
decision. Nevertheless, as a senator from the State of Mississippi, he
was in harmony with the Administration of Jackson, until Jackson began
to send his personal friends and especial favorites from Tennessee to
fill the national offices located in Mississippi. Poindexter felt this
as an insult to his State, and in the case of Gwinn's appointment as
register of the Land-Office at Clinton, Mississippi, he opposed the
nomination when sent to the Senate. He was successful in having it
rejected.
He urged that though the office was national, and every man in the
nation was eligible to fill it, yet it was due to the State that the
incumbent should be selected from her own people, provided she could
furnish one in every way qualified, and that it was a reflection upon
the people of his State to fill the offices within her borders with
aliens to her soil and interests--strangers to her people, with no
motive to be obliging and respectful to them in the discharge of the
duties of the office; that the offices belonged to the people and not
to the President, and it was respectful to the people of a State to
tender to her people these offices, as had been heretofore the custom;
that simply being the President's favorite was not a qualification for
office, and this departure from the established usages of former
Administrations was a dangerous precedent, and would seem to establish
a property in the office, belonging to the President.
This opposition enraged Jackson, who denounced Poindexter and persisted
in his determination to give the office to Gwinn. In this he finally
succeeded; but most unfortunately for Gwinn, for it embroiled him in
quarrels with the citizens of the State. A duel with Judge Caldwell was
the consequence, in which both fell. Caldwell died immediately; Gwinn
survived to suffer intensely for a few months, when death relieved him.
The people of Mississippi were intensely devoted to General Jackson,
and in the mad fury of partisan zeal forgot everything but party, nor
permitted themselves for a moment to inquire into the official conduct
of any political partisan, especially that of the President. Poindexter
had been unhappy in his domestic relations. He had separated from his
wife. He charged her with infidelity; forgot his affection for his
children, and threw them off, because he doubted their paternity. In
the agony of mind consequent upon this he became desperate, and for
years was reckless in his dissipations. His wife's friends were
respectable and influential. They, with every personal and political
enemy he had, united in ascribing to him all the blame in this matter.
The northern portion of the State had been acquired from the Indians,
and a population unacquainted with Poindexter or with his services to
the State was crowding into the new Territory in such numbers as
threatened politically to rule the State. These came principally from
the West and South, and were eminently Jacksonian in their politics.
Many young aspirants for fame had sprung up in different sections of
the State, and these were in no way averse to seeing an old and
talented politician shelved; and they joined in the huzza for Jackson
and down with his opponents.
Seeing and feeling the tide setting in so strongly as to sweep
everything before it except what comported with the views and wishes of
General Jackson, and feeling also that he, with the minority in the
Senate, could be of no possible use to the country, and beginning to
experience the pressure of age, at the conclusion of his senatorial
term he made no effort to be re-elected. He retired, disgusted with
politics forever, and temporarily from the State. Subsequently an
accident fractured both his legs below the knee, and for some years he
was unable to walk. Prior to this event he had married a Boston
lady--following the example of his divorced wife, who had married a
Boston gentleman. With this lady he lived affectionately and happily.
He located in Lexington, Kentucky, where he remained only a few years.
It was here I saw him, at his own house, for the last time--spending an
evening in company with Daniel Webster, Henry Clay, John J. Crittenden,
and the celebrated actress, Mrs. Drake. I enjoyed the hospitality, the
wit, and a game of whist with him. He soon became weary of Lexington.
His heart was in Mississippi, and thither he returned, old and worn. He
took up his residence at Jackson, where in a short time he died, and is
buried in the beautiful cemetery at that place. While paying a
pilgrimage to the grave of a dear boy who died in defence of Jackson in
1866, I saw and paused at the modest stone which marks the grave of
Governor Poindexter. Memory was busy with the past. My heart was sad. I
had just looked upon the sod which covered my boy, and, thinking of the
hours passed, long years ago, with him who was sleeping at my feet, I
could not repress the tear due and dear to memory.
Few men have served more faithfully and more efficiently a people than
did George Poindexter the people of Mississippi. His talents were
indisputably of the first order, and, whatever may have been his short
comings morally, none can say his political life was stained with
selfishness or corruption. Every trust reposed in him was faithfully
and ably discharged, and to him, more than to any of her public
servants, is she indebted for the proud position she occupied before
the tyrants' heel was upon her neck.
Few men can rise superior to the crushing effects of domestic
infelicity: man's hopes, man's happiness, all centred in her whom he
has chosen as the companion of his life. His love selects, and his love
centres in her. The struggle for fortune, for happiness, for fame, is
for her; she shares every success, every misfortune; and when she is
kind and affectionate, there he meets with the true manliness of an
honest and devoted heart. She smooths the brow of disappointment and
sorrow, rejoices in his success, and, in the fulness of her confidence
and affection, aids and encourages his exertions and enterprises. This
reconciles him to life, and life's cares, troubles, and joys. His
spirit is buoyant, come what may; for there is an angel at home, and
there is happiness with her: she is the mother of his children; she
unites with him in love and exertions for the benefit of these. They
are one in these, and with every birth there is a new link to bind and
gladden two hearts. Without the virtuous love of woman, man is a
miserable being, worthless to himself and useless to his kind. But when
the heart's wealth is given to one who has no sympathy with it, and
gives only in return coldness and hate; who betrays every confidence
and disappoints every hope; who is only happy when he is miserable, and
refuses the generous aid a wife owes to his exertions; who rejoices in
his failures, and intrigues to produce them, and weeps over his
successes with the bitterness of disappointment; who hates her
offspring, because they resemble their father; who spurns his caresses,
and turns away from his love--then life's hopes are blighted, and all
is black before. His energies die out with his hopes; the goading
thought is eternally present; he shrinks away from society, and in
solitude and obscurity hides him from the world--which too often
condemns him as the architect of all his misery.
"Oh, a true woman is a treasure beyond price, but a false one the
basest of counterfeits."