JOHN RANDOLPH AND WILLIAM PINKNEY.
Mr. Webster served four years in Congress as a Representative from his
native State. He had reached the age of thirty-one when he entered
the public service, and therefore, though not the youngest, was
among the youngest members of that important body. As we have seen,
though without previous legislative experience, he advanced at once
to a leading place and took prominent part in all the discussions
of important questions, his opinions always carrying weight. He was
opposed to the administration and its war policy, but he opposed it in
no factious spirit.
He distinguished himself particularly by his speeches on finance.
When a bill was proposed to establish a national bank, with a capital
of fifty millions of dollars, of which only four millions was to be
specie, and the balance to consist of Government stocks, then very much
depreciated, Mr. Webster rode forty miles on horseback from Baltimore
to Washington, in order to defeat what he regarded as a scheme to
create an irredeemable paper currency, fraught with widespread mischief
to the country. The vigorous speech which he made defeated the bill.
It is interesting to record that Mr. Calhoun, when the vote was
announced, walked across the floor of the House to where Mr. Webster
stood, and holding out both hands to him, told him that he should rely
upon his help to prepare a new bill of a proper character. When this
assurance was given Mr. Calhoun’s feelings were so stirred that he
burst into tears, so deeply did he feel the importance of some aid for
the Government, which he felt with Mr. Webster’s co-operation might be
secured.
It may be stated here that these great men cherished for each other
mutual respect and friendship, widely as they differed on some points.
The Senator from South Carolina showed this in a notable manner when he
arose from his deathbed (his death followed in a few days), and sat in
his place to listen to his great friend’s seventh of March speech, in
1850, looking a wan and spectral auditor from the next world.
The battle for sound money which Mr. Webster fought then has been
renewed in later years, as some of my young readers may be aware. In
his speeches he showed a thorough mastery of the subject which he
discussed. He showed the evils of a debased coin, a depreciated paper
currency, and a depressed and falling public credit, and it is largely
due to his efforts that the country emerged from its chaotic financial
condition with as little injury as it did.
I have spoken of Mr. Webster’s relations then and later to Mr. Calhoun.
Among the members of the House representing Virginia was the famous
John Randolph, of Roanoke, with whom it was difficult for any one
to keep on good terms. He saw fit to take offense at something said
by Mr. Webster, and sent him a challenge. Webster was never charged
by any man with physical cowardice, but he thoroughly despised the
practice of dueling. He was not to be coerced into fighting by any fear
that cowardice would be imputed to him. This may seem to us a very
trivial matter, but seventy years ago and even much later, it required
considerable moral courage to refuse a challenge. I place on record, as
likely to interest my readers, the letter in which Mr. Webster declined
to give satisfaction in the manner demanded.
“SIR: For having declined to comply with your demand yesterday in the
House for an explanation of words of a general nature used in debate,
you now ‘demand of me that satisfaction which your insulted feelings
require,’ and refer me to your friend, Mr.——, I presume, as he is the
bearer of your note, for such arrangements as are usual.
“This demand for explanation you, in my judgment, as a matter of right
were not entitled to make on me, nor were the temper and style of your
own reply to my objection to the sugar tax of a character to induce me
to accord it as a matter of courtesy.
“Neither can I, under the circumstances of the case, recognize in you a
right to call me to the field to answer what you may please to consider
an insult to your feelings.
“It is unnecessary for me to state other and obvious considerations
growing out of this case. It is enough that I do not feel myself bound
at all times and under any circumstances to accept from any man who
shall choose to risk his own life an invitation of this sort, although
I shall be always prepared to repel in a suitable manner the aggression
of any man who may presume upon such a refusal.
“Your obedient servant,
“DANIEL WEBSTER.”
Mr. Randolph did not press the matter nor did he presume upon the
refusal, but the matter was adjusted amicably. Nearly forty years
later a similar reply to a challenge was sent by a later Senator from
Massachusetts, Henry Wilson, and in both cases the resolute character
of the men was so well known that no one dared to taunt the writer with
cowardice.
While upon the subject of physical courage I am tempted to transcribe
from Mr. Harvey’s interesting volume an anecdote in which the famous
lawyer, William Pinkney, is prominently mentioned. In answer to the
question whether he ever carried pistols, Mr. Webster answered:
“No, I never did. I always trusted to my strong arm, and I do not
believe in pistols. There were some Southern men whose blood was hot
and who got very much excited in debate, and I used myself to get
excited, but I never resorted to any such extremity as the use of
pistols.
“The nearest I ever came to a downright row was with Mr. William
Pinkney. Mr. Pinkney was the acknowledged head and leader of the
American bar. He was the great practitioner at Washington when I was
admitted to practice in the courts there. I found Mr. Pinkney by
universal concession the very head of the bar—a lawyer of extraordinary
accomplishments and withal a very wonderful man. But with all that
there was something about him that was very small. He did things that
one would hardly think it possible that a gentleman of his breeding and
culture and great weight as a lawyer could do.
“He was a very vain man. One saw it in every motion he made. When he
came into court he was dressed in the very extreme of fashion—almost
like a dandy. He would wear into the court-room his white gloves that
had been put on fresh that morning and that he never put on again.
He usually rode from his house to the Capitol on horseback, and his
overalls were taken off and given to his servant who attended him.
Pinkney showed in his whole appearance that he considered himself the
great man of that arena, and that he expected deference to be paid
to him as the acknowledged leader of the bar. He had a great many
satellites—men of course much less eminent than himself at the bar—who
flattered him, and employed him to take their briefs and argue their
cases, they doing the work and he receiving the greatest share of the
pay. That was the position that Mr. Pinkney occupied when I entered the
bar at Washington.
“I was a lawyer who had my living to get, and I felt that although I
should not argue my cases as well as he could, still, if my clients
employed me they should have the best ability I had to give them, and
I should do the work myself. I did not propose to practice law in the
Supreme Court by proxy. I think that in some pretty important cases I
had Mr. Pinkney rather expected that I should fall into the current of
his admirers and share my fees with him. This I utterly refused to do.
“In some important case (I have forgotten what the case was) Mr.
Pinkney was employed to argue it against me. I was going to argue it
for my client myself. I had felt that on several occasions his manner
was, to say the least, very annoying and aggravating. My intercourse
with him, so far as I had any, was always marked with great courtesy
and deference. I regarded him as the leader of the American bar; he
had that reputation and justly. He was a very great lawyer. On the
occasion to which I refer, in some colloquial discussion upon various
minor points of the case he treated me with contempt. He pooh-poohed,
as much as to say it was not worth while to argue a point that I did
not know anything about, that I was no lawyer. I think he spoke of
‘the gentleman from New Hampshire.’ At any rate, it was a thing that
everybody in the court-house, including the judges, could not fail to
observe. Chief Justice Marshall himself was pained by it. It was very
hard for me to restrain my temper and keep cool, but I did so, knowing
in what presence I stood. I think he construed my apparent humility
into a want of what he would call spirit in resisting, and as a sort of
acquiescence in his rule.
“However the incident passed, the case was not finished when the hour
for adjournment came, and the court adjourned until the next morning.
“Mr. Pinkney took his whip and gloves, threw his cloak over his arm,
and began to saunter away.
“I went up to him and said very calmly, ‘Can I see you alone in one of
the lobbies?’
“He replied, ‘Certainly.’ I suppose he thought I was going to beg his
pardon and ask his assistance. We passed one of the anterooms of the
Capitol. I looked into one of the grand jury rooms, rather remote from
the main court-room. There was no one in it, and we entered. As we did
so I looked at the door, and found that there was a key in the lock;
and, unobserved by him, I turned the key and put it in my pocket. Mr.
Pinkney seemed to be waiting in some astonishment.
“I advanced towards him and said: ‘Mr. Pinkney, you grossly insulted
me in the court-room, and not for the first time either. In deference
to your position, and to the respect in which I hold the court, I did
not answer you as I was tempted to do on the spot.’
“He began to parley.
“I continued. ‘You know you did; don’t add another sin to that; don’t
deny it; you know you did it, and you know it was premeditated. It was
deliberate; it was purposely done; and if you deny it, you state an
untruth. Now,’ I went on, ‘I am here to say to you, once for all, that
you must ask my pardon, and go into court to-morrow morning and repeat
the apology, or else either you or I will go out of this room in a
different condition from that in which we entered it.’
“I was never more in earnest. He looked at me, and saw that my eyes
were pretty dark and firm. He began to say something. I interrupted him.
“‘No explanation,’ said I; ‘admit the fact, and take it back. I do not
want another word from you except that. I will hear no explanation;
nothing but that you admit it and recall it.’
“He trembled like an aspen leaf. He again attempted to explain.
“Said I, ‘There is no other course. I have the key in my pocket, and
you must apologize, or take what I give you.’
“At that he humbled down, and said to me: ‘You are right, I am sorry; I
did intend to bluff you; I regret it, and ask your pardon.’
“‘Enough,’ I promptly replied. ‘Now, one promise before I open the
door; and that is, that you will to-morrow state to the court that you
have said things which wounded my feelings, and that you regret it.’
“Pinkney replied, ‘I will do so.’
“Then I unlocked the door, and passed out.
“The next morning, when the court met, Mr. Pinkney at once rose, and
stated to the court that a very unpleasant affair had occurred the
morning before, as might have been observed by their honors; that his
friend, Mr. Webster, had felt grieved at some things which had dropped
from his lips; that his zeal for his client might have led him to say
some things which he should not have said, and that he was sorry for
having thus spoken.’
“From that day,” adds Mr. Webster, “there was no man who treated me
with so much respect and deference as Mr. William Pinkney.”
I have recorded this anecdote that my young readers may understand
clearly that the young lawyer was manly and self-respecting, and
declined the method of satisfaction then in vogue from high and
honorable motives.