almost the hour. It was noon, and the meeting was to take place at 4½
o'clock. I had gone to see Mr. Randolph before the hour, and for a
purpose; and, besides, it was so far on the way, as he lived half-way to
Georgetown, and we had to pass through that place to cross the Potomac
into Virginia at the Little Falls Bridge. I had heard nothing from him
on the point of not returning the fire since the first communication to
that effect, eight days before. I had no reason to doubt the steadiness
of his determination, but felt a desire to have fresh assurance of it
after so many days' delay, and so near approach of the trying moment. I
knew it would not do to ask him the question--any question which would
imply a doubt of his word. His sensitive feelings would be hurt and
annoyed at it. So I fell upon a scheme to get at the inquiry without
seeming to make it. I told him of my visit to Mr. Clay the night
before--of the late sitting--the child asleep--the unconscious
tranquillity of Mrs. Clay; and added, I could not help reflecting how
different all that might be the next night. He understood me perfectly,
and immediately said, with a quietude of look and expression which
seemed to rebuke an unworthy doubt, _I shall do nothing to disturb the
sleep of the child or the repose of the mother_, and went on with his
employment . . . . which was, making codicils to his will, all in the
way of remembrance to friends. . . . . . . . . . . . I withdrew a little
way into the woods, and kept my eyes fixed on Mr. Randolph, who I then
knew to be the only one in danger. I saw him receive the fire of Mr.
Clay, saw the gravel knocked up in the same place, saw Mr. Randolph
raise his pistol--discharge it in the air; heard him say, _I do not fire
at you, Mr. Clay_; and immediately advancing and offering his hand. He
was met in the same spirit. They met halfway, shook hands, Mr. Randolph
saying, jocosely, _You owe me a coat, Mr. Clay_--(the bullet had passed
through the skirt of the coat, very near the hip)--to which Mr. Clay
promptly and happily replied, _I am glad the debt is no greater_. I had
come up and was prompt to proclaim what I had been obliged to keep
secret for eight days. The joy of all was extreme at this happy
termination of a most critical affair: and we immediately left, with
lighter hearts than we brought. . . . . . .
On Monday the parties exchanged cards, and social relations were
formally and courteously restored. It was about the last high-toned
duel that I have witnessed, and among the highest-toned that I have
ever witnessed; and so happily conducted to a fortunate issue--a
result due to the noble character of the seconds as well as to the
generous and heroic spirit of the principals. Certainly, duelling is
bad, and has been put down, but not quite so bad as its
substitute--revolvers, bowie-knives, blackguarding, and
street-assassinations under the pretext of self-defence.
FOOTNOTE:
[7] By permission of D. Appleton and Company, N. Y.
JOHN CALDWELL CALHOUN.
~1782=1850.~
JOHN CALDWELL CALHOUN is one of the greatest statesmen that America
has produced. He was of Scotch and Irish descent, and was born in
Abbeville County, South Carolina. He received his early education from
his brother-in-law, the distinguished Dr. Moses Waddell, then attended
Yale College, and studied law. Early in life, 1811, he entered the
political arena, and remained in it to the day of his death.
As Secretary of War under President Monroe, he re-organized the
department on the basis which is still maintained. He was elected
Vice-president with Adams in 1824, re-elected with Jackson, 1828, and
became United States Senator, 1832, succeeding Robert Y. Hayne who had
been chosen governor of South Carolina in the Nullification crisis.
From this time forth until his death, he was in the midst of incessant
political toil, strife, and activity, having Webster, Clay, Benton,
Hayne, Randolph, Grundy, Hunter, and Cass, for his great companions.
Edward Everett said: "Calhoun, Clay, Webster! I name them in
alphabetical order. What other precedence can be assigned them? Clay
the great leader, Webster the great orator, Calhoun the great
thinker."
As a boy he must often have heard his father say, "That government is
the best which allows the largest amount of individual liberty
compatible with social order."
His most famous political act is his advocacy of Nullification, an
explanation and defence of which are found in the extract below. He
was a devoted adherent of the Union. (See under _Jefferson Davis_.)
His life seems to have been entirely political; but he was very fond
of his home where there was always a cheerful happy household. This
home, "Fort Hill," was in the lovely upland region of South Carolina
in Oconee County. It became the property of his daughter, Mrs. Thomas
G. Clemson, and Mr. Clemson left it at his death to the State, which
has now established there an Agricultural and Mechanical College.
Mr. Calhoun died in Washington City, and was buried in St. Philip's
Churchyard, Charleston, his grave being marked by a monument. His
preeminence in South Carolina during his life has not ceased with his
death. His picture is found everywhere and his memory is still living
throughout the entire country. See Life, by Jenkins, and by Von Hoist.
See under _Stephens_.
WORKS.
Speeches and State Papers (6 vols.) edited by Richard K. Crallé.
[Illustration: Old Presbyterian Church at which Calhoun worshiped
JNO C CALHOUN
The Calhoun Homestead at Fort Hill
Calhouns Grave in St. Phillips Churchyard.]
Calhoun has been called the philosopher of statesmen, and his style
accords with this description. "His eloquence was part of his
intellectual character. It was plain, strong, terse, condensed,
concise; sometimes impassioned, still always severe. Rejecting
ornament, not often seeking far for illustration, his power consisted
in the plainness of his propositions, in the closeness of his logic,
and in the earnestness and energy of his manner."--Daniel Webster.
WAR AND PEACE.
War can make us great; but let it never be forgotten that peace only
can make us both great and free.
SYSTEM OF OUR GOVERNMENT.
(_Speech on State Rights and Union, 1834._)
I know of no system, ancient or modern, to be compared with it; and
can compare it to nothing but that sublime and beautiful system of
which our globe constitutes a part, and to which it bears, in many
particulars, so striking a resemblance.
DEFENCE OF NULLIFICATION.
(_From a Speech against the Force Bill, after the State of South
Carolina had passed the Ordinance of Nullification, 1833._)
A deep constitutional question lies at the bottom of the controversy.
The real question at issue is, Has the government a right to impose
burdens on the capital and industry of one portion of the country, not
with a view to revenue, but to benefit another? and I must be
permitted to say that after a long and deep agitation of this
controversy, it is with surprise that I perceive so strong a
disposition to misrepresent its real character. To correct the
impression which those misrepresentations are calculated to make, I
will dwell on the point under consideration a few moments longer.
The Federal Government has, by an express provision of the
Constitution, the right to lay duties on imports. The state never
denied or resisted this right, nor even thought of so doing. The
government has, however, not been contented with exercising this power
as she had a right to do, but has gone a step beyond it, by laying
imposts, not for revenue, but for protection. This the state considers
as an unconstitutional exercise of power, highly injurious and
oppressive to her and the other staple states, and has accordingly,
met it with the most determined resistance. I do not intend to enter,
at this time, into the argument as to the unconstitutionality of the
protective system. It is not necessary. It is sufficient that the
power is nowhere granted; and that, from the journals of the
Convention which formed the Constitution, it would seem that it was
refused. In support of the journals, I might cite the statement of
Luther Martin, which has already been referred to, to show that the
Convention, so far from conferring the power on the Federal
Government, left to the state the right to impose duties on imports,
with the express view of enabling the several states to protect their
own manufactures. Notwithstanding this, Congress has assumed, without
any warrant from the Constitution, the right of exercising this most
important power, and has so exercised it as to impose a ruinous burden
on the labor and capital of the state of South Carolina, by which her
resources are exhausted, the enjoyments of her citizens curtailed, the
means of education contracted, and all her interests essentially and
injuriously affected.
We have been sneeringly told that she is a small state; that her
population does not exceed half a million of souls; and that more than
one half are not of the European race. The facts are so. I know she
never can be a great state, and that the only distinction to which she
can aspire must be based on the moral and intellectual acquirements of
her sons. To the development of these much of her attention has been
directed; but this restrictive system, which has so unjustly exacted
the proceeds of her labor, to be bestowed on other sections, has so
impaired the resources of the state, that, if not speedily arrested,
it will dry up the means of education, and with it deprive her of the
only source through which she can aspire to distinction. . . . .
The people of the state believe that the Union is a union of states,
and not of individuals; that it was formed by the states, and that the
citizens of the several states were bound to it through the acts of
their several states; that each state ratified the Constitution for
itself; and that it was only by such ratification of a state that any
obligation was imposed upon the citizens; thus believing, it is the
opinion of the people of Carolina, that it belongs to the state which
has imposed the obligation to declare, in the last resort, the extent
of this obligation, so far as her citizens are concerned; and this
upon the plain principles which exist in all analogous cases of
compact between sovereign bodies. On this principle, the people of the
state, acting in their sovereign capacity in convention, precisely as
they adopted their own and the federal Constitution, have declared by
the ordinance, that the acts of Congress which imposed duties under
the authority to lay imposts, are acts, not for revenue, as intended
by the Constitution, but for protection, and therefore null and void.
[Mr. Calhoun's biographer, Mr. Jenkins, adds,
"Nullification, it has been said, was 'a little
hurricane while it lasted;' but it cooled the air, and
'left a beneficial effect on the atmosphere.' Its
influence was decidedly healthful."]
THE WISE CHOICE.
(_From a speech in 1816._)
This country is now in a situation similar to that which one of the
most beautiful writers of antiquity ascribes to Hercules in his youth.
He represents the hero as retiring into the wilderness to deliberate
on the course of life which he ought to choose. Two goddesses approach
him; one recommending a life of ease and pleasure; the other, of labor
and virtue. The hero adopts the counsel of the latter, and his fame
and glory are known to the world. May this country, the youthful
Hercules, possessing his form and muscles, be animated by similar
sentiments, and follow his example!
OFFICIAL PATRONAGE.
(_Speech in the Senate, 1835._)
Their object is to get and hold office; and their leading political
maxim . . . is that, "to the victors belong the spoils of victory!"[8]
. . . Can any one, who will duly reflect on these things, venture to
say that all is sound, and that our Government is not undergoing a
great and fatal change? Let us not deceive ourselves, the very essence
of a free government consists in considering _offices as public
trusts_, bestowed for the good of the country, and not for the benefit
of an individual or a party; and that system of political morals which
regards offices in a different light, as _public prizes_ to be won by
combatants most skilled in all the arts and corruption of political
tactics, and to be used and enjoyed as their proper spoils--strikes a
fatal blow at the very vitals of free institutions.
FOOTNOTE:
[8] William L. Marcy of New York, in the Senate, 1831.
NATHANIEL BEVERLEY TUCKER.
~1784=1851.~
BEVERLEY TUCKER, as he is usually known, was the son St. George Tucker
and half-brother to John Randolph of Roanoke. He was born at
Williamsburg, Virginia, educated at William and Mary College, and
studied law. From 1815 to 1830 he lived in Missouri and practiced his
profession with great success. He returned to Virginia, and became in
1834 professor of Law in William and Mary College, filling that
position until his death. By his public writings and by correspondence
with various prominent men, he took a leading part in the political
movements of his times.
WORKS.
The Partisan Leader, a Tale of the Future, by William Edward Sydney.
George Balcombe, [a novel.]
Life of John Randolph, [his half-brother.]
Essays, [in Southern Literary Messenger.]
Political Science.
Principles of Pleading.
Of Judge Tucker's style, his friend, Wm. Gilmore Simms, with whom he
long corresponded, says: "I regard him as one of the best prose
writers of the United States."
His novel, "The Partisan Leader," made a great sensation. It was
published in 1836; the story was laid in 1849, and described
prophetically almost the exact course of events in 1861. It was
suppressed for political reasons, but was reprinted in 1861 as a "Key
to the Disunion Conspiracy." The extract is from the beginning of the
book and introduces us at once to several interesting characters amid
the wild scenery of our mountains.
THE PARTISAN LEADER, (WRITTEN IN 1836).
[The scene is laid in Virginia, near the close of the
year 1849. By a long series of encroachments by the
federal government on the rights and powers of the
states, our federative system is supposed to be
destroyed, and a consolidated government, with the forms
of a republic and the powers of a monarchy, to be
established on its ruins. . . . . . As a mere political
speculation, it is but too probably correct. We trust
that a benign Providence will so order events as that it
may not prove also a POLITICAL PROPHECY.--Sou. Lit.
Messenger, Jan., 1837.]
Toward the latter end of the month of October, 1849, about the hour of
noon, a horseman was seen ascending a narrow valley at the Eastern
foot of the Blue Ridge. His road nearly followed the course of a small
stream, which, issuing from a deep gorge of the mountain, winds its
way between lofty hills, and terminates its brief and brawling course
in one of the larger tributaries of the Dan. A glance of the eye took
in the whole of the little settlement that lined its banks, and
measured the resources of its inhabitants. The different tenements
were so near to each other as to allow but a small patch of arable
land to each. Of manufactures there was no appearance, save only a
rude shed at the entrance of the valley, on the door of which the
oft-repeated brand of the horseshoe gave token of a smithy. There,
too, the rivulet, increased by the innumerable springs which afforded
to every habitation the unappreciated, but inappreciable luxury of
water, cold, clear, and sparkling, had gathered strength enough to
turn a tiny mill. Of trade there could be none. The bleak and rugged
barrier, which closed the scene on the west, and the narrow road,
fading to a foot-path, gave assurance to the traveller that he had
here reached the _ne plus ultra_ of social life in that
direction. . . . . At length he heard a sound of voices, and then a
shrill whistle, and all was still. Immediately, some half a dozen men,
leaping a fence, ranged themselves across the road and faced him. He
observed that each, as he touched the ground, laid hold of a rifle
that leaned against the enclosure, and this circumstance drew his
attention to twenty or more of these formidable weapons, ranged along
in the same position. . . . As the traveller drew up his horse, one of
the men, speaking in a low and quiet tone, said, "We want a word with
you, stranger, before you go any farther."
"As many as you please," replied the other, "for I am tired and
hungry, and so is my horse; and I am glad to find some one at last,
of whom I may hope to purchase something for both of us to eat."
"_That_ you can have quite handy," said the countryman, "for we have
been gathering corn, and were just going to our dinner. If you will
only just 'light, sir, one of the boys can feed your horse, and you
can take such as we have got to give you."
The invitation was accepted; the horse was taken in charge by a
long-legged lad of fifteen, without hat or shoes; and the whole party
crossed the fence together.
At the moment a man was seen advancing toward them, who, observing
their approach, fell back a few steps, and threw himself on the ground
at the foot of a large old apple-tree. Around this were clustered a
motley group of men, women, and boys, who opened and made way for the
stranger. He advanced, and bowing gracefully took off his forage cap,
from beneath which a quantity of soft curling flaxen hair fell over
his brow and cheeks. Every eye was now fixed on him, with an
expression rather of interest than of mere curiosity. Every
countenance was serious and composed, and all wore an air of business,
except that a slight titter was heard among the girls, who, hovering
behind the backs of their mothers, peeped through the crowd, to get a
look at the handsome stranger. . . . .
As the youth approached, the man at the foot of the tree arose, and
returned the salutation, which seemed unheeded by the rest. He
advanced a step or two and invited the stranger to be seated. This
action, and the looks turned towards him by the others, showed that he
was in authority of some sort among them. With him, therefore, our
traveller concluded that the proposed conference was to be
held. . . . . . . . . .
He was at length asked whence he came, and answered, from the
neighborhood of Richmond.--From which side of the river?--From the
north side.--Did he know anything of Van Courtlandt?--His camp was at
Bacon's branch, just above the town.--What force had he?
"I cannot say, certainly," he replied, "but common fame made his
numbers about four thousand."
"Is that all, on both sides of the river?" said his interrogator.
"O, no! Col. Loyal's regiment is at Petersburg, and Col. Cole's at
Manchester; each about five hundred strong; and there is a piquet on
the Bridge Island."
"Did you cross there?"
"I did not."
"Where, then?" he was asked.
"I can hardly tell you," he replied, "it was at a private ford,
several miles above Cartersville."
"Was not that mightily out of the way? What made you come so far
around?"
"It was safer travelling on that side of the river."
"Then the people on that side of the river are your friends?"
"No. They are not. But, as they are all of a color there, they would
let me pass, and ask no questions, as long as I travelled due west. On
this side, if you are one man's friend, you are the next man's enemy;
and I had no mind to answer questions."
"You seem to answer them now mighty freely."
"That is true. I am like a letter that tells all it knows as soon as
it gets to the right hand; but it does not want to be opened before
that."
"And how do you know that you have got to the right hand now?"
"Because I know where I am."
"And where are you?"
"Just at the foot of the Devil's-Backbone," replied the youth.
"Were you ever here before?"
"Never in my life."
"How do you know then where you are?" asked the mountaineer.
"Because the right way to avoid questions is to ask none. So I took
care to know all about the road, and the country, and the place,
before I left home."
"And who told you all about it?"
"Suppose I should tell you," answered the young man, "that Van
Courtlandt had a map of the country made, and gave it to me."
"I should say you were a traitor to him, or a spy upon us," was the
stern reply.
At the same moment, a startled hum was heard from the crowd, and the
press moved and swayed for an instant, as if a sort of spasm had
pervaded the whole mass.
"You are a good hand at questioning," said the youth, with a smile,
"but without asking a single question, I have found out all I wanted
to know."
"And what was that?" asked the other.
"Whether you were friends to the Yorkers and Yankees, or to poor old
Virginia."
"And which _are_ we for?" added the laconic mountaineer.
"For _old Virginia forever_," replied the youth. . . . . It was echoed
in a shout, . . . . their proud war-cry of "_old Virginia forever_."
DAVID CROCKETT.
~1786=1836.~
This renowned hunter and pioneer, commonly called Davy Crockett, was
born in Limestone, Green County, Tennessee. His free and wild youth
was spent in hunting. He became a soldier in the war of 1812: he was
elected to the Tennessee Legislature in 1821 and 1823, and to Congress
in 1829 and 1833. His eccentricity of manners, his lack of education,
and his strong common sense and shrewdness made him a marked figure,
especially in Washington. In 1835 he went to Texas to aid in the
struggle for independence; and in 1836, was massacred by General Santa
Anna, with five other prisoners, after the surrender of the Alamo,
these six being the only survivors of a band of one hundred and forty
Texans. See Life by Edward S. Ellis.
WORKS.
Autobiography.
A Tour to the North and Down East.
Life of Van Buren, Heir-Apparent to the Government.
Crockett's autobiography was written to correct various mistakes in an
unauthorized account of his life and adventures, that was largely
circulated. His books are unique in literature as he is in human
nature, and they give us an original account of things. As to literary
criticism of his works and style, see his own opinion in the extract
below.
SPELLING AND GRAMMAR--HIS PROLOGUE.
(_From A Narrative of the Life of David Crockett, of the State of
Tennessee. Written by Himself. 1834._)
[Illustration: ~Alamo, San Antonio, Texas.~]
I don't know of anything in my book to be criticised on by honourable
men. Is it on my spelling?--that's not my trade. Is it on my
grammar?--I hadn't time to learn it, and make no pretensions to it.
Is it on the order and arrangement of my book?--I never wrote one
before, and never read very many; and, of course, know mighty little
about that. Will it be on the authorship of the book?--this I claim,
and I'll hang on to it, like a wax plaster. The whole book is my own,
and every sentiment and sentence in it. I would not be such a fool, or
knave either, as to deny that I have had it hastily run over by a
friend or so, and that some little alterations have been made in the
spelling and grammar; and I am not so sure that it is not the worse of
even that, for I despise this way of spelling contrary to nature. And
as for grammar, it's pretty much a thing of nothing at last, after all
the fuss that's made about it. In some places, I wouldn't suffer
either the spelling, or grammar, or anything else to be touch'd; and
therefore it will be found in my own way.
But if anybody complains that I have had it looked over, I can only
say to him, her, or them--as the case may be--that while critics were
learning grammar, and learning to spell, I, and "Doctor Jackson,
L. L. D." were fighting in the wars; and if our books, and messages,
and proclamations, and cabinet writings, and so forth, and so on,
should need a little looking over, and a little correcting of the
spelling and grammar to make them fit for use, it's just nobody's
business. Big men have more important matters to attend to than
crossing their _t's_ and dotting their _i's_--, and such like small
things.
ON A BEAR HUNT.
(_From the Life of David Crockett. Written by Himself. 1834._)
It was mighty dark, and was difficult to see my way or anything else.
When I got up the hill, I found I had passed the dogs, and so I turned
and went to them. I found, when I got there, they had treed the bear
in a large forked poplar, and it was setting in the fork. I could see
the lump, but not plain enough to shoot with any certainty, as there
was no moonlight; and so I set in to hunting for some dry brush to
make me a light; but I could find none.
At last I thought I could shoot by guess, and kill him; so I pointed
as near the lump as I could, and fired away. But the bear didn't come;
he only clomb up higher, and got out on a limb, which helped me to see
him better. I now loaded up again and fired, but this time he didn't
move at all. I commenced loading for a third fire, but the first thing
I knowed the bear was down among my dogs, and they were fighting all
around me. I had my big butcher in my belt, and I had a pair of
dressed buckskin breeches on. So I took out my knife, and stood,
determined, if he should get hold of me, to defend myself in the best
way I could. I stood there for some time, and could now and then see a
white dog I had, but the rest of them, and the bear, which were dark
coloured, I couldn't see at all, it was so miserable dark. They still
fought around me, and sometimes within three feet of me; but, at last,
the bear got down into one of the cracks that the earthquake had made
in the ground, about four feet deep, and I could tell the biting end
of him by the hollering of my dogs. So I took my gun and pushed the
muzzle of it about, till I thought I had it against the main part of
his body, and fired; but it happened to be only the fleshy part of his
foreleg. With this, I jumped out of the crack, and he and the dogs had
another hard fight around me, as before. At last, however, they forced
him back into the crack again, as he was when I had shot. . .
I made a lounge with my long knife, and fortunately stuck him right
through the heart; at which he just sank down, and I crawled out in a
hurry. In a little while my dogs all come out too, and seemed
satisfied, which was the way they always had of telling me that they
had finished him. . . . . . . .