thirty-eight guns, left her anchorage at Hampton Roads, and put to
sea, bound for the Mediterranean. The United States being at peace
with all the world, the Chesapeake was very far from being in proper
man-of-war trim. Her decks were littered with furniture, baggage,
stores, cables, and animals. The guns were loaded, but rammers,
matches, wadding, cannon-balls, were all out of place, and not
immediately accessible. The crew were merchant sailors and landsmen,
all undrilled in the duties peculiar to an armed ship. There had been
lying for some time at the same anchorage the British frigate Leopard,
fifty guns; and this ship also put to sea at noon of the same day. The
Leopard being in perfect order, and manned by a veteran crew, took the
lead of the Chesapeake, and kept it until three in the afternoon, when
she was a mile in advance. Then she wore round, came within speaking
distance, lowered a boat, and sent a lieutenant on board the American
ship. This officer bore a despatch from the admiral of the station,
ordering any captain who should fall in with the Chesapeake to search
her for deserters. The American commander replied that he knew of no
deserters on board his ship, and could not permit a search to be made,
his orders not authorizing the same. The lieutenant returned. As soon
as he had got on board, and his boat was stowed away, the Leopard
fired a full broadside into the American frigate. The American
commodore, being totally unprepared for such an event, could not
return the fire; and therefore, when his ship had received twenty-one
shot in her hull, when her rigging was much cut up, when three of her
crew were killed and eighteen wounded, the commodore himself among the
latter, he had no choice but to lower his flag. Then the search was
made, and four men, claimed as deserters, were taken; after which the
Leopard continued her course, and the crippled Chesapeake returned to
Hampton Roads. The American commander was sentenced by a court-martial
to five years' suspension for going to sea in such a condition. The
English government recalled the admiral who ordered, and deprived of
his ship the captain who committed, this unparalleled outrage, but
made no other reparation.
No words of ours could convey any adequate idea of the rage which this
event excited in the people of the United States. For a time, the
Federalists themselves were ready for war. There were meetings
everywhere to denounce it, and especially in the Southern States,
always more disposed than the Northern to begin the shedding of blood,
and already the main reliance of the Republican party. Remote and
rustic Abbeville, a very Republican district, was not silent on this
occasion; and who so proper to draw and support the denunciatory
resolutions as young Calhoun, the son of valiant Patrick, fresh from
college, though now in his twenty-sixth year? The student performed
this duty, as requested, and spoke so well that his neighbors at once
concluded that he was the very man, lawyer as he was, to represent
them in the Legislature, where for nearly thirty years his father had
served them. At the next election, in a district noted for its
aversion to lawyers, wherein no lawyer had ever been chosen to the
Legislature, though many had been candidates, he was elected at the
head of his ticket. His triumph was doubtless owing in a great degree
to the paramount influence of his family. Still, even we, who knew him
only in his gaunt and sad decline, can easily imagine that at
twenty-six he must have been an engaging, attractive man. Like most of
his race, he was rather slender, but very erect, with a good deal of
dignity and some grace in his carriage and demeanor. His eyes were
always remarkably fine and brilliant. He had a well-developed and
strongly set nose, cheek-bones high, and cheeks rather sunken. His
mouth was large, and could never have been a comely feature. His early
portraits show his hair erect on his forehead, as we all remember it,
unlike Jackson, whose hair at forty still fell low over his forehead.
His voice could never have been melodious, but it was always powerful.
At every period of his life, his manners, when in company with his
inferiors in age or standing, were extremely agreeable, even
fascinating. We have heard a well-known editor, who began life as a
"page" in the Senate-chamber, say that there was no Senator whom the
pages took such delight in serving as Mr. Calhoun. "Why?"--"Because he
was so democratic."--"How democratic?"--"He was as polite to a page as
to the President of the Senate, and as considerate of his feelings."
We have heard another member of the press, whose first employment was
to report the speeches of Clay, Webster, and Calhoun, bear similar
testimony to the frank, engaging courtesy of his intercourse with the
corps of reporters. It is fair, therefore, to conclude that his early
popularity at home was due as much to his character and manners as to
his father's name and the influence of his relatives.
He served two years in the Legislature, and in the intervals between
the sessions practised law at Abbeville. At once he took a leading
position in the Legislature. He had been in his seat but a few days
when the Republican members, as the custom then was, met in caucus to
nominate a President and Vice-President of the United States. For Mr.
Madison the caucus was unanimous, but there was a difference with
regard to the Vice-Presidency, then filled by the aged George Clinton
of New York, who represented the anti-Virginian wing of the party in
power. Mr. Calhoun, in a set speech, opposed the renomination of
Governor Clinton, on the ground that in the imminency of a war with
England the Republican party ought to present an unbroken front. He
suggested the nomination of John Langdon of New Hampshire for the
second office. At this late day we cannot determine whether this
suggestion was original with Mr. Calhoun. We only know that the caucus
affirmed it, and that the nomination was afterwards tendered to Mr.
Langdon by the Republican party, and declined by him. Mr. Calhoun's
speech on this occasion was the expression of Southern opinions as to
the foreign policy of the country. The South was then nearly ready for
war with England, while Northern Republicans still favored Mr.
Jefferson's non-intercourse policy. In this instance, as in so many
others, we find the Slave States, which used to plume themselves upon
being the conservative element in an else unrestrainable democracy,
ready for war first, though far from being the worst sufferers from
England's piracy's. We should have had _no_ war from 1782 to 1865, but
for them. We also find Mr. Calhoun, in this his first utterance as a
public man, the mouthpiece of his "section." He has been styled the
most inconsistent of our statesmen; but beneath the palpable
contradictions of his speeches, there is to be noticed a deeper
consistency. Whatever opinion, whatever policy, he may have advocated,
he always spoke the sense of what Mr. Sumner used to call the Southern
oligarchy. If _it_ changed, _he_ changed. If he appeared sometimes to
lead it, it was by leading it in the direction in which it wanted to
go. He was doubtless as sincere in this as any great special pleader
is in a cause in which all his powers are enlisted. Calhoun's mind was
narrow and provincial. He could not have been the citizen of a large
place. As a statesman he was naturally the advocate of something
special and sectional, something not the whole.
Distinguished in the Legislature, he was elected, late in 1810, by a
very great majority, to represent his district in Congress. In May,
1811, he was married to a second-cousin, Floride Calhoun, who brought
a considerable accession to his slender estate. November 4, 1811, he
took his seat in the House of Representatives. Thus, at the early age
of twenty-nine, he was fairly launched into public life, with the
advantage, usually enjoyed then by Southern members, of being
independent in his circumstances. Though unknown to the country, his
fame had preceded him to Washington; and the Speaker, Mr. Clay, gave
him a place on the Committee on Foreign Relations. This Committee,
considering that Congress had been summoned a month earlier than usual
for the express purpose of dealing with foreign relations, was at once
the most important and the most conspicuous committee of the House.
Mr. Calhoun's first session gave him national reputation, and made him
a leader of the war party in Congress. We could perhaps say _the_
leader, since Mr. Clay was not upon the floor. After surveying the
novel scene around him for six weeks, he delivered his maiden
speech,--a plain, forcible, not extraordinary argument in favor of
preparing for war. It was prodigiously successful, so far as the
reputation of the speaker was concerned. Members gathered round to
congratulate the young orator; and Father Ritchie (if he was a father
then) "hailed this young Carolinian as one of the master spirits who
stamp their names upon the age in which they live." This speech
contains one passage which savors of the "chivalric" taint, and
indicates the provincial mind. In replying to the objection founded on
the expenses of a war, he said:
"I enter my solemn protest against this low and 'calculating
avarice' entering this hall of legislation. It is _only fit
for shops and counting-houses_, and ought not to disgrace
the seat of power by its squalid aspect. Whenever it touches
sovereign power, the nation is ruined. It is too
short-sighted to defend itself. It is a compromising spirit,
always ready to yield a part to save the residue. It is too
timid to have in itself the laws of self-preservation.
Sovereign power is never safe but under the shield of
honor."
This was thought very fine talk in those simple days among the simple
Southern country members.
As the session progressed, Mr. Calhoun spoke frequently, and with
greater effect. Wisely he never spoke. In his best efforts we see that
something which we know not what to name, unless we call it
_Southernism_. If it were allowable to use a slang expression, we
should style the passages to which we refer effective bosh. The most
telling passage in the most telling speech which he delivered at this
session may serve to illustrate our meaning. Imagine these short,
vigorous sentences uttered with great rapidity, in a loud, harsh
voice, and with energy the most intense:--
"Tie down a hero, and he feels the puncture of a pin; throw
him into battle, and he is almost insensible to vital
gashes. So in war. Impelled alternately by hope and fear,
stimulated by revenge, depressed by shame, or elevated by
victory, the people become invincible. No privation can
shake their fortitude; no calamity break their spirit. Even
when equally successful, the contrast between the two
systems is striking. War and restriction may leave the
country equally exhausted; but the latter not only leaves
you poor, but, even when successful, dispirited, divided,
discontented, with diminished patriotism, and the morals of
a considerable portion of your people corrupted. Not so in
war. In that state, the common danger unites all,
strengthens the bonds of society, and feeds the flame of
patriotism. The national character mounts to energy. In
exchange for the expenses and privations of war, you obtain
military and naval skill, and a more perfect organization of
such parts of your administration as are connected with the
science of national defence. Sir, are these advantages to be
counted as trifles in the present state of the world? Can
they be measured by moneyed valuation? I would prefer a
single victory over the enemy, by sea or land, to all the
good we shall ever derive from the continuation of the
Non-importation act. I know not that a victory would produce
an equal pressure on the enemy; but I am certain of what is
of greater consequence, it would be accompanied by more
salutary effects to ourselves. The memory of Saratoga,
Princeton, and Eutaw is immortal. It is there you will find
the country's boast and pride,--the inexhaustible source of
great and heroic sentiments. But what will history say of
restriction? What examples worthy of imitation will it
furnish to posterity? What pride, what pleasure will our
children find in the events of such times? Let me not be
considered romantic. This nation ought to be taught to rely
on its courage, its fortitude, its skill and virtue, for
protection. These are the only safeguards in the hour of
danger. Man was endued with these great qualities for his
defence. There is nothing about him that indicates that he
is to conquer by endurance. He is not incrusted in a shell;
he is not taught to rely upon his insensibility, his passive
suffering, for defence. No, sir; it is on the invincible
mind, on a magnanimous nature, he ought to rely. Here is the
superiority of our kind; it is these that render man the
lord of the world. Nations rise above nations, as they are
endued in a greater degree with these brilliant qualities."
This passage is perfectly characteristic of Calhoun, whose speeches
present hundreds of such inextricable blendings of truth and
falsehood.
We have the written testimony of an honorable man, still living,
Commodore Charles Stewart, U. S. N., that John C. Calhoun was a
conscious traitor to the Union as early as 1812. In December of that
year, Captain Stewart's ship, the Constitution, was refitting at the
Washington Navy Yard, and the Captain was boarding at Mrs. Bushby's,
with Mr. Clay, Mr. Calhoun, and many other Republican members.
Conversing one evening with the new member from South Carolina, he
told him that he was "puzzled" to account for the close alliance which
existed between the Southern planters and the Northern Democracy.
"You," said Captain Stewart,
"in the South and Southwest, are decidedly the aristocratic
portion of this Union; you are so in holding persons in
perpetuity in slavery; you are so in every domestic quality,
so in every habit in your lives, living, and actions, so in
habits, customs, intercourse, and manners; you neither work
with your hands, heads, nor any machinery, but live and have
your living, not in accordance with the will of your
Creator, but by the sweat of slavery, and yet you assume all
the attributes, professions, and advantages of democracy."
Mr. Calhoun, aged thirty, replied thus to Captain Stewart, aged
thirty-four:--
"I see you speak through the head of a young statesman, and
from the heart of a patriot, but you lose sight of the
politician and the sectional policy of the people. I admit
your conclusions in respect to us Southrons. That we are
essentially aristocratic, I cannot deny; but we can and do
yield much to democracy. This is our sectional policy; we
are from necessity thrown upon and solemnly wedded to that
party, however it may occasionally clash with our feelings,
for the conservation of our interests. It is through our
affiliation with that party in the Middle and Western States
that we hold power; but when we cease thus to control this
nation through a disjointed democracy, or any material
obstacle in that party which shall tend to throw us out of
that rule and control, we shall then resort to the
dissolution of the Union. The compromises in the
Constitution, under the circumstances, were sufficient for
our fathers, but, under the altered condition of our country
from that period, leave to the South no resource but
dissolution; for no amendments to the Constitution could be
reached through a convention of the people under their
three-fourths rule."
Probably all of our readers have seen this conversation in print
before. But it is well for us to consider it again and again. It is
the key to all the seeming inconsistencies of Mr. Calhoun's career. He
came up to Congress, and took the oath to support the Constitution,
secretly resolved to break up the country just as soon as the Southern
planters ceased to control it for the maintenance of their peculiar
interest. The reader will note, too, the distinction made by this
young man, who was never youthful, between the "statesman" and the
"politician," and between the "heart of a patriot" and "the sectional
policy of the people."
Turning from his loathsome and despicable exposition to the
Congressional career of Mr. Calhoun, we find no indication there of
the latent traitor. He was merely a very active, energetic member of
the Republican party; supporting the war by assiduous labors in
committee, and by intense declamation of the kind of which we have
given a specimen. In all his speeches there is not a touch of
greatness. He declared that Demosthenes was his model,--an orator who
was a master of all the arts? all the artifices, and all the tricks by
which a mass of ignorant and turbulent hearers can be kept attentive,
but who has nothing to impart to a member of Congress who honestly
desires to convince his equals. Mr. Calhoun's harangues in the
supposed Demosthenean style gave him, however, great reputation out of
doors, while his diligence, his dignified and courteous manners,
gained him warm admirers on the floor. He was a messmate of Mr. Clay
at this time. Besides agreeing in politics, they were on terms of
cordial personal intimacy. Henry Clay, Speaker of the House, was but
five years older than Calhoun, and in everything but years much
younger. Honest patriots pointed to these young men with pride and
hope, congratulating each other that, though the Revolutionary
statesmen were growing old and passing away, the high places of the
Republic would be filled, in due time, by men worthy to succeed them.
When the war was over, a strange thing was to be noted in the politics
of the United States: the Federal party was dead, but the Republican
party had adopted its opinions. The disasters of the war had convinced
almost every man of the necessity of investing the government with the
power to wield the resources of the country more readily; and,
accordingly, we find leading Republicans, like Judge Story, John
Quincy Adams, and Mr. Clay, favoring the measures which had formerly
been the special rallying-cries of the Federalists. Judge Story spoke
the feeling of his party when he wrote, in 1815:
"Let us extend the national authority over the whole extent
of power given by the Constitution. Let us have great
military and naval schools, an adequate regular army, the
broad foundations laid of a permanent navy, a national bank,
a national bankrupt act,"
etc., etc. The strict-constructionists were almost silenced in the
general cry, "Let us be a Nation." In the support of _all_ the
measures to which this feeling gave rise, especially the national
bank, internal improvements, and a protective tariff, Mr. Calhoun went
as far as any man, and farther than most; for such at that time was
the humor of the planters.
To the principle of a protective tariff he was peculiarly committed.
It had not been his intention to take part in the debates on the
Tariff Bill of 1816. On the 6th of April, while he was busy writing in
a committee-room, Mr. Samuel D. Ingham of Pennsylvania, his particular
friend and political ally, came to him and said that the House had
fallen into some confusion while discussing the tariff bill, and
added, that, as it was "difficult to rally so large a body when once
broken on a tax bill," he wished Mr. Calhoun would speak on the
question in order to keep the House together. "What can I say?"
replied the member from South Carolina. Mr. Ingham, however,
persisted, and Mr. Calhoun addressed the House. An amendment had just
been introduced to leave cotton goods unprotected, a proposition which
had been urged on the ground that Congress had no authority to impose
any duty except for revenue. On rising to speak, Mr. Calhoun at once,
and most unequivocally, committed himself to the protective principle.
He began by saying, that, _if the right to protect had not been called
in question, he would not have spoken at all_. It was solely to assist
in establishing _that_ right that he had been induced, without
previous preparation, to take part in the debate. He then proceeded to
deliver an ordinary protectionist speech; without, however, entering
upon the questioner constitutional right. He merely dwelt upon the
great benefits to be derived from affording to our infant manufactures
"immediate and ample protection." That the Constitution interposed no
obstacle, was assumed by him throughout. He concluded by observing,
that a flourishing manufacturing interest would "bind together more
closely our widely-spread republic," since
"it will greatly increase our mutual dependence and
intercourse, and excite an increased attention to internal
improvements,--a subject every way so intimately connected
with the ultimate attainment of national strength and the
perfection of our political institutions."
He further observed, that "the liberty and union of this country are
inseparable," and that the destruction of either would involve the
destruction of the other. He concluded his speech with these words:
"Disunion,--this single word comprehends almost the sum of our
political dangers, and against it we ought to be perpetually guarded."
The time has passed for any public man to claim credit for
"consistency." A person who, after forty years of public life, can
truly say that he has never changed an opinion, must be either a
demigod or a fool. We do not blame Mr. Calhoun for ceasing to be a
protectionist and becoming a free-trader; for half the thinking world
has changed sides on that question during the last thirty years. A
growing mind must necessarily change its opinions. But there _is_ a
consistency from which no man, public or private, can ever be
absolved,--the consistency of his statements with fact. In the year
1833, in his speech on the Force Bill, Mr. Calhoun referred to his
tariff speech of 1816 in a manner which excludes him from the ranks of
men of honor. He had the astonishing audacity to say:
"I am constrained in candor to acknowledge, for I wish to
disguise nothing, that the protective principle was
recognized by the Act of 1816. How this was overlooked at
the time, it is not in my power to say. _It escaped my
observation_, which I can account for only on the ground
that the principle was new, and that my attention was
engaged by another important subject."
The charitable reader may interpose here, and say that Mr. Calhoun may
have forgotten his speech of 1816. Alas! no. He had that speech before
him at the time. Vigilant opponents had unearthed it, and kindly
presented a copy to the author. We do not believe that, in all the
debates of the American Congress, there is another instance of flat
falsehood as bad as this. It happens that the speech of 1816 and that
of 1833 are both published in the same volume of the Works of Mr.
Calhoun (Vol. II. pp. 163 and 197). We advise our readers who have the
time and opportunity to read both, if they wish to see how a false
position necessitates a false tongue. Those who take our advice will
also discover why it was that Mr. Calhoun dared to utter such an
impudent falsehood: his speeches are such appallingly dull reading,
that there was very little risk of a busy people's comparing the
interpretation with the text.
It was John C. Calhoun who, later in the same session, introduced the
bill for setting apart the dividends and bonus of the United States
Bank as a permanent fund for internal improvements. His speech on this
bill, besides going all lengths in favor of the internal improvement
system, presents some amusing contrasts with his later speeches on the
same subject. His hearers of 1835 to 1850 must have smiled on reading
in the speech of 1817 such sentences as these:--
"I am no advocate for _refined arguments_ on the
Constitution. The instrument was not intended as a thesis
for the logician to exercise his ingenuity on. It ought to
be construed with plain good-sense." "If we are restricted
in the use of our money to the enumerated powers, on what
principle can the purchase of Louisiana be justified?" "The
uniform sense of Congress and the country furnishes better
evidence of the true interpretation of the Constitution than
the most refined and subtle arguments."
Mark this, too:--
"In a country so extensive and so various in its interests,
what is necessary for the common interest may apparently be
opposed to the interest of particular sections. _It must be
submitted to as the condition of our greatness_."
Well might he say, in the same speech:--
"We may reasonably raise our eyes to a most splendid future,
if we only act in a manner worthy of our advantages. If,
however, neglecting them, we permit a low, sordid, selfish,
_sectional_ spirit to take possession of this House, this
happy scene will vanish. We will divide; and, in its
consequences, will follow misery and despotism."