Q . Of thft 1 -Hi - r>- ........... - U J Jl_D C3 Li-i) _i _i _j i - 1 - x ---- i ^j _j _j -_^^ LIVES AND PORTRAITS OP THE PRESIDENTS OF THE is owson. THE BIOGRAPHIES, BY EVERT A. DUYCKINCK, I Author of the " History of the War for the Union" " Cyclopedia of American Literature" etc., c- THE PORTRAITS, BY ALONZO CHAPPEL, From Original Likenesses obtained from (he most Authentic Sources. NEW YORK: JOHNSON, FRY AND COMPANY, 27 BEEKMAN STREET. ENTERED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by JOHNSON, FRY & COMPANY, In the Clerk s Office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern Distnct of New York. PREFACE. THE narratives of the Lives of THE PRESIDENTS OF THE UNITED STATES "will ever nll onl an interesting and profitable subject of study; and this not merely from their elevated position ranking them as rulers with contemporary kings, emperors, and others in chief authority ; but, as representatives of a distinct and peculiar social and political organization. The hereditary sovereigns of Europe, succeeding one another by a fixed and absolute decree ; educated for their p<><i- tion and following, for the most part, through life a uniform routine of etiquette and State policy, are spoken of in relation to families and dynasties; nor do they always represent the nationality of the countries over which they rule. They may be, as in the case of the Hanover line in England, taken from a foreign country, or as in Greece of the present day, chosen from other countries in obedi ence to a real or supposed political .necessity of European State craft. They may be weak or able, virtuous or vicious, according to their capacity or individual tendencies, without the nation over which they rule being particularly honored in the one case or held responsible in the other. Not so in the United States. Here the CHIEF MAGISTRATE, as it is, our glory to call the presiding officer at the head of our system of government, being chosen by the people at short intervals, the nation becomes directly responsible for his intelligence and virtue. The pre judices of party, the accidents of political intrigue, occasional deference to what is termed expediency, may, indeed, direct the election so that the successful candi date may fall short, as a representative man, of the character of the people in its highest and best development. It is by no means to be expected that the best adapted or qualified man will be chosen every four years to the Presidency. In all human affairs it frequently happens that the right man is not in the ri^ht place. But generally speaking, making due allowance for inevitable exceptions, the country may be rightfully judged by the character of the man deliberately chosen by the people to the post of highest authority. If, for insane.-, an a\<>\ved 3: 342 iv PREFACE. infidel, or a corrupt man in morals, or one dishonest, wanting integrity in the every-day affairs of life, were to be elected, the nation would be directly humili ated. It would be held up to reproach, and deservedly so, throughout Christen dom. If, on the contrary, the list of Presidents shall continue to show men of sound moral character and a high average of intellect, the country will be honored in its representatives. How much, for instance, at the start was done for us as a people by the choice of WASHINGTON as our great leader, " First in War, First in Peace, and First in the hearts of his countrymen." The nation, after more than half a century since his death, may be said, in a measure, to be living on his virtues. He, more than any other hero, " without fear or reproach," by the purity of his life and the devotion of his whole nature to public affairs, raised the land at once to a " respectable " position, as he was accustomed modestly to say, among the nations of the world. His example has reacted upon the people whom he was called to represent, and doubtless on innumerable occasions has brightened the flame of patriotism and public virtue. Every statesman, and especially every President, must feel himself called upon to follow and privileged in following in his footsteps. Nor does the example of WASHINGTON stand alone in our review of the Presi dents. The ADAMSES occupy a lofty position in our national history, in their pri vate virtues, their devoted patriotism, and independence of character. In JEFFEK- SON the nation had not only a ruler of consummate ability, but a student and philosopher, and a controlling mind among the great men of his century. The great name of MADISON is identified with the foundation of our liberties in the origin and adoption of the Constitution. The strength and manliness of JACKSON, equally illustrated in military and political life, have left their example to invigor ate the national policy of our own times. /The fame of LINCOLN, consecrated by martyrdom, will be transmitted to posterity with an enduring lesson of public virtues, patriotic devotion, heartfelt love of liberty and magnanimity in the exer cise of power, j Others on the brief list have their high and enduring claims to respect. They have not been all of equal eminence, but this could hardly be ex pected. What was to be demanded and what has been rendered was a fair share of intelligence with a fair share of virtue. In the ensuing pages the lives of the seventeen incumbents who, up to this time have held the Presidency, are narrated. As a simple record of biography, the story is interesting in its variety of personal details. As an incentive to patriot ism in a period more than ever since the days of WASHINGTON requiring the devo tion of the citizen, we trust that it is not without its useful lesson. CONTENTS. PAGE I. GEORGE WASHINGTON 7 II. JOHN A 1 > A M S 35 III Tl 1( >M AS JEFFERSON 45 IV. .IAMKS MADISON 63 V. JAMES MONROE 71 VI. JOHN lil INCY ADAMS 81 VII. _AM >UK\Y JACKSON 92 Mil. MARTIN* VAN BUREN 120 IX. WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON 130 X. JOHN TYLER 140 XI. JAMES KNOX POLK 147 .XII. ZACH ARY TAYLOR 153 X . 1 1. M ILLARD FILLMORE 1 69 A I V. FRAXKLIN PIERCE 175 XV. JAMKS BUCHANAN s ? XVI. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 191 X VIL A X D II E W J 1 1 N SON 2 o 3 GEORGE WASHINGTON. WASHINGTON Invixu commences his life of George Washington with a genealogical chapter tracing the anti quity of his family to tin* eleventh cen tury. Though the transcendent merit of his hero little needs this blazonry, which, as he himself intimated on one occasion, his occupation in active busi ness had given him no time to ferret out, yet it is not to be denied that it is quite in harmony with the character of Washington, that his family should be traced through an ancient and honor able descent. lie is placed in history as a connecting link between too great eras of civilization, and it is important to know that the goodly tree of his fail- fame has its roots in the one, while it extends its widely spread, still growing branches into the other. He certainly would be less a representative man were his origin unknown, or had he just arrived, a chance comer, to do his work of revolutionizing a nation. On the contraiy, he was especially fitted for his great employment by the place of his birth, leaning fondly on the parent countiy as the Old Dominion, the estates and institutions by which he was surrounded, and the recollections of an elder time which these circum stances implied. In supplying these traditions, Mr. Irving carries us back to the picturesque era of the early days of the Plantagenets, when the DeWessyng tons did manorial service in tlie battle and the chase, to the military Hi-hop of Durham. Following these spirited scenes through the fourteenth century to the fifteenth, we have a glimpse of John tie Wessyngton, a stout, contro versial abbot attached to the cathedral After him, we are called upon to trace the family in the various parts of Eng land, and particularly in its branch of Washingtons for so the spelling of the name had now become determined at Sulgrave, in Northamptonshire. They were loyalists in the Cromwellian era, when Sir Henry gained renown by his defence of Worcester. While this event was quite recent, two brothers of the race, John and Lawrence, emigrated to Virginia in 1657, and established them selves as planters, in Westmoreland county, bordering on the Potomac and Rappahannoek, in the midst of a dis trict destined to produce many eminent men for the service of a State then undreamt of. One of these brothers, John, a colonel in the Virginia service, was the grandfather of Augustine, who married Mary Ball, the belle of the county, and became the parent of George Washington. The family home was on Bridges Creek, near the banks GEORGE WASHINGTON. of the Potomac, where, the oldest of six children by this second marriage of his father, the illustrious subject of our sketch was born on the twenty-second of February, 1732. Augustine Washington was the own er of several estates in this region of the two rivers, to one of which, on the Rappahannock, in Stafford County, he removed shortly after his son s birth, and there the boy received his first im pressions. He was not destined to be much indebted to schools or school-mas ters. His father, indeed, was not in sensible to the advantages of education, since, according to the custom of those days with wealthy planters, he had sent Lawrence, his oldest son by his previous marriage, to be educated in England ; an opportunity which was not given him in the case of George ; for before the boy was of an age to leave home on such a journey, the father was suddenly taken out of the world by an attack of gout. This event happened in April, 1743, when George was left to the guardianship of his mother. The honest merits of Mary, " the mother of Washington," have often been matters- o / of comment. All that is preserved of this lady, who survived her husband forty-six years, and of course lived to witness the matured triumphs of her son he was seated in the Presidential chair when she died bears witness to her good sense and simplicity, the plainness and sincerity of her house hold virtues. The domestic instruction of Wash ington was of the best and purest. He had been early indoctrinated in the rudiments of learning, in the "field school," by a village pedagogue, named Hobby, one of his father s tenants, who joined to his afflictive calling the more melancholy profession of sexton a shabby member of the race of instruc tors, who in his old age kept up the association by getting patriotically fud dled on his pupils birth-days. The boy could have learnt little there which was not better taught at home. Indeed we find his mother inculcating the best precepts. In addition to the Scriptures and the lessons of the Church, which always form the most important part of such a child s education, she had a book of excellent wisdom, as the event proved, especially suitable for the guidance of her son s future life, in Sir Matthew Hale s "Contemplations, Moral and Divine " a book written by one who had attained high public dis tinction, and who tells the secret of his worth and success. The very volume out of which Washington was thus taught by his mother is preserved at Mount Vernon. He had, however, some limited school instruction with a Mr. Williams, whom he attended from his half brother, Augustine s, home, in West moreland, and from whom he learnt a knowledge of accounts, in which he was always skilful. His ciphering book, neatly written out, may be seen among other relics of his early years, in the public archives at Washington. An other juvenile note-book of this time, penned when he was thirteen, contains not only forms of business, as bonds, leases, and the like, but copies of verses and "Kules of Behavior in Company and Conversation," full of homely prac tical wisdom of the Benjamin Franklin GEORGE WASHINGTON. pattern. Some lines on "True Happi ness" recite, among other beneiiN, those of " A merry night without much drinking, A happy thought without much thinking; Each night by quick sWp made short, A will to bo but what thou art." The " Rules," one hundred and ten in number, are j)laiu, sensible maxims, e-Miimonplaee enough, some of them, but not the less valuable ; minor moral ities \vhieh add to the comfort as well as the greatness of life, form the gentle man, and assist the Christian. Wash ington, who was ever sedulously obser- rant of all matters of good conduct and lii ^h principle, may well be studied in this elementary exercise of his boy- ish days. lie had early set his mind in th -> precepts upon kindness, for bearance, self-denial, probity, the love of justice. The youth had also par ticular instructions from Mr. Williams in geometry, trigonometry, and survey ing, in which he became an adept, writ ing out his examples in the neatest and most careful manner. This was a branch of instruction more important to him than Latin and Greek, of which he was taught nothing, and one that he O O turned to account through life. All the school instruction which Washing ton received was thus completed before he was sixteen. Nor let it be supposed that these sober mathematical calculations con stituted all the dreams of the boy. lie had other visions of a softer charac ter in the charms of a certain lowland beauty, to whose memory some love->iek rhymes are left in his youthful note- book.;. It, is worth mentioning, this tender susceptibility of one who \vas all tenderness within, while his grave public duties so long conscientiously re quired him to present an iron front to the world. lie had, however, to look to some practical work in the scant condition of his fortunes, and we find him early bent upon it. While he was yet at school, a proposition was entertained by himself and a portion of his family, which, if it had been carried out, might have seriously affected the destinies of America. His brother, Lawrence, four teen years his senior, had served a few years before with the West India fleet of Admiral Vernon, in the land force at the siege of Carthagena, and in honor of his commander, gave the name Mount Vernon to the estate on the Potomac which he inherited from his father. He was now marrjed to the daughter of a neighboring gentleman, William Fairfax, and in the enjoyment of his home had given up military life; but he thought well of the foreign O O service, and procured a midshipman s warrant for his brother George, who, full of active vigor, with a boyish taste for war, ea-vrly desired the adventure. Little more is known of the ail air, beyond his mother s earnest final inter position she had given her consent in the first instance by which his majesty s navy lost an excellent re cruit, and his majesty s dominions half a continent, while the world gained a nation. On leaving school, young Washing ton appears to have taken up his resi dence with his brother at Mount 10 GEORGE WASHINGTON. Vernon, where lie was introduced to new social influences of a liberal character in the family society of the Fairfaxes. Lawrence, as we have seen, was married to a daughter of William Fairfax, a gentleman of much experience and adventure about the world, who resided at his neighboring seat "Bel- voir," on the Potomac, and superin tended, as agent, the large landed operations of his cousin, Lord Fairfax. These comprehended a huge territory, embracing the Northern Neck, and stretching over the mountains into what was then something of a frontier region, the valley of the Shenandoah. In this more remote spot resided the owner himself at Greenway Court, keeping up a rude state, and gratifying his love of the chase, for he had brought with him from Old England the tastes of a genuine fox-hunter. Washington, though too young to appreciate the eccentric nobleman s varied experience, was ready to follow him in the hunt, and there was another source of sympathy in the practical management of his vast territory. Sur veys were to be made to keep posses sion of the lands, and bring them into the market ; and who so well adapted for this service as the youth who had made the science an object of special study ? We consequently find him re gularly retained in this service. His journal, at the age of sixteen, remains to tell us of the duties and adventures of the journey, as he traversed the out lying rough ways and passages of the South Branch of the Potomac. It is a short record of camp incidents and the progress of his surveys for a month in the wilderness, in the spring of 1748; the prelude, in its introduction to Indians and the exposures of camp life, to many rougher scenes of military service, stretching westward from the region. Three years were passed in expe ditions of this nature, the young sur veyor making his home in his intervals of duty mostly at Mount Vernon. The health of his brother, the owner of this place, to whom he was much attached, was now failing with consumption, and George accompanied him. in one of his tours for health in the autumn of IT 51 to Barbadoes. As usual, he kept a journal of his observations he was always diligent and exact in these records from a boy, so that of no one so illustrious in history have we a more perfect picture through life which tells us of the every-day living and hospitalities of the place, with a shrewd glance at its agricultural re sources and the conduct of its gover nor. A few lines cover nearly a month of the visit ; they record an attack of the smallpox, of which his countenance always bore some faint traces. Leav ing his brother, partially recruited, to pursue his way to Bermuda, George re turned in February to Virginia. The health of Lawrence, however, continued to decline, and in the ensuing summer he died at Mount Vernon. The estate was left to a daughter, who, dying in infancy, the property passed, according to the terms of the will, into the pos session of George, who thus became the owner of his memorable home. Previous to this time, rumors of imminent French and Indian ag. GEORGE WASHINGTON. 11 gressions on the frontier began to ige tin- attention of the colony, and preparations were making to resist, the threatened attack. The province was divided into districts for enlistment and organization of the militia, over one of which Washington was placed, with the rank of major, in 17">1, when he was but nineteen a mark of con fidence sustained by his youthful studies and experience, but in which his family influence, doubtless, had its full share. We hear of his attention to military exercises at Mount Vernon, and of some special hints and instruc tions from one Adjutant Ware, a Virginian, and a Dutchman, Jacob Van Uraam, who gave him lessons in fenc ing. Both of these worthies had been the military companions of Lawrence \Vashinirton in the West Indies. O In 17 "> ), the year following his brother s death, the affairs on the fron tier becoming pressing, Governor Din- widdie stood in need of a resolute agent, to bear a message to the French commander on the Ohio, remonstrating against the advancing occupation of the territory. It was a hazardous service crossing a rousrh, intervening wilder- O O O ness, occupied by unfriendly Indians, and it was a high compliment to Wash ington to select him for the duty. Amply provided with instructions, he left Williamsburg on the mission on the last day of October, and, by the middle of November, reached the ex treme frontier settlement at Will s Creek. Thence, with his little party of eight, he pursued his way to the fork of the Ohio, where, with a military eye, he noted the ad vantageous position subsequently selected as the site of Fort Du Quesne, and now the flourish ing city of Pittshurg. lie then held M council of the Indians at Logstown, and procured guides to the station of the French commandant, a hundred and twenty miles distant, in the vicinity of Lake Erie, which he reached on the llth of December. An inter view having been obtained, the mes sage delivered and an answer received, the most hazardous part of the "expe dition yet lay before the party in their return home. They were exposed to frozen streams, the winter inclemencies, the pefils of the wilderness and Indian hostilities, when Indian hostilities were most cruel. To hasten his home wan 1 journey, Washington separated from the rest, with a single companion. His life was more than once in danger on the way, first from the bullet of an Indian, and during a night of extra ordinary severity, in crossing the violent Allegany river on a raft beset with ice. Escaping these disasters, he reached Williamsburg on* the 16th January, and gave the interesting journal now included in his writings as the report of his proceedings. It was at once published by the Governor, and was speedily reprinted in London. The observations of Washington, and the reply which he brought, confirmed the growing impressions of the designs of the French, and military prepara tions were kept up with spirit. A Virginia regiment of three hundred was raised for frontier service, and Washington was appointed its Lieu tenant-Colonel. Advancing with a portion of the force of which he had 12 GEORGE WASHINGTON. command, he learnt that the French were in the field, and had commenced hostilities. Watchful of their move ments, he fell in with a party under Jumonville, in the neighborhood of the Great Meadows, which he put to flight with the death of their leader. His own superior officer having died on the march, the entire command fell upon Washington, who was also joined by some additional troops from South Carolina and New York. With these he was on his way to attack Fort Du Quesne, when word was brought of a large superior force of French and Indians coming against him. This intelligence led him, in his unprepared state, to retrace his steps to Fort Neces sity, at the Great Meadows, where he received the attack. The fort was gal lantly defended both within and with out, Washington commanding in front, and it was not until serious loss had been inflicted on the assailants that it surrendered to superior numbers. In the capitulation the garrison was allowed to return home with the honors of war. A second time the Legislature of Virginia thanked her returning officer. The military career of Washington was now for a time interrupted by a question of -etiquette. An order was issued in favor of the officers holding the king s commission outranking the provincial appointments. Washington, who knew the worth of his country men, and the respect due himself, would not submit to this injustice, and the estate of Mount Vernon now requiring his attention, he withdrew from the army to its rural occupations. He was not, however, suffered to remain there long in inactivity. The arrival of General Braddock, with his forces, in the river, called him into action at the summons of that officer, who was at tracted by his experience and accom plishments. Washington, anxious to serve his country, readily accepted an appointment as one of the General s military family, the question of rank being thus dispensed with. He joined the army on its onward march at Win chester, and proceeded with it, though, he had been taken ill with a raging fever, to the Great Crossing of the Youghiogany. Here he was compelled to remain with the rear of the army, by the positive injunctions of the General, from whom he exacted his " word of honor " that he " should be brought up before he reached the French fort." This he accomplished, though he was too ill to make the journey on horse back, arriving at the mouth of the Youghiogany, in the immediate vicin ity of the fatal battle-field, the evening before the engagement. In the events of that memorable ninth of July, 1*755, he was destined to bear a conspicuous part. From the beginning, he had been a prudent counsellor of the General on the march, and it was by his advice that some of its urgent difficulties had been overcome. He advised pack- horses instead of baggage-wagons, and a rapid advance with an unencumbered portion of the force before the enemy at Fort Du Quesne could gain strength ; but Braddock, a brave, confident officer of the European school, resolutely ad dicted to system, was unwilling or unable fully to carry out the sugges- UKOKGE WASHINGTON. 13 tii -.us. Had Washington lu>ld the corn- mail!!, i: U but little to say that lie would not have been caught in an ambuscade. It was his last advice, on arriving at the scene on the eve of the battle, that the Virginia Rangers sliould O O be employed as a scouting j tarty, rather than the regular troops in the advance. The proposition was rejected. The next day, though still 1 eel tie from his illness, Wa-hin^ton mounted his horse and tottk his station as aid to the Gene ral. It was a brilliant display, as the well-appointed army passed under the eye of its martinet commander on its w.-.y from the encampment, crossing and recrossinGj the Monon^ahela to- O O wards Fort Du Quesne and the sol dierly eye of Washington is said to have kindled at the sight. The march had continued from sunrise till about two o clock in the afternoon, when, as the advanced column was ascending a rising ground covered with trees, a fire was opened upon it from two concealed ravines on either side. Then was felt the want of American experience in fighting with the Indian. Braddock in vain sent forward his men. They would not, or could not, fight against a hidden foe, while they themselves were presented in open view to the marks men. Washington recommended the O Virginia example of seeking protection from the trees, but the General would not even then abandon his European tactics. The regulars stood in squads shooting their own companions before thenL^The result was an overwhelm ing defeat, astounding when the rela tive forces and equipment of the two ies is considered. Braddock, who, amid-t all his faults, did not lack cour- directed his men while five h< \\vre killed under him. Washii: was also in the thickest of the das. losing two horses, while his clothes wen- pierced by four bullets. Many years afterwards, when he visited the re on a peaceful mission, an old Indian came to see him as a wonder. lie had, he said, levelled his rifle so often at him without effect, that he became per suaded he was under the special protec tion of the Great Spirit, and gave up the attempt. Braddock at length fell in the centre of the field fatally wounded. Nothing now remained but flight. But four officers out of eighty- six were left alive and unwounded. Washington s first care was for the wounded General; his next employment, to ride to the reserve camp of Dunl>ar, forty miles, for aid and supplies. He- turning with the requisite assistance, he met the wounded Braddock on the retreat. Painfully borne along the road, he survived the en^as-eruent / O O several days, and reached the Great Meadows to die and be buried there by the broken remnant of his army. Washington read the funeral service, the chaplain being disabled by a wound. Writing to his brother, he attributed his own protection, " beyond all human probability or expectation," to the " all-powerful dispensations of Providence." The natural and pious sentiment was echoed, shortly after. from the pulpit of the excellent Samuel Davies, in Hanover County, Vir ginia. "I may point," said he, in illustration of his patriotic purpose of encouraging new recruits for the ser- 14 GEORGE WASHINGTON. vice, in words since that time often pronounced prophetic, "to that heroic youth, Colonel Washington, whom I cannot but hope Providence has hither to preserved in so signal a manner for some important service to his coun- try." One lesson of this campaign was deeply impressed upon the mind of Washington, the disobedience, disorder and cowardice of the regular troops compared with the heroic fate of the Virginia companies. He expresses himself in the strongest terms of this " dastardly behavior of the regular troops, so called" in his correspondence at the time, and the experience, doubt less, remained with him in after days of doubt and difficulty when the con viction was needed to sustain him against hostile hosts. The public attention of the province was now turned to Washington, as the best defender of the soil. His volun tary service had expired, but he was still engaged as adjutant, in directing the levies from his residence at Mount Vernon, whence the Legislature soon called him to the chief command of the Virginia forces. He stipulated for thorough activity and discipline in the whole service, and accepted the office. The defence of the country, exposed to the fierce severities of savage warfare, was in his hands. He set the posts in order, organized forces, rallied recruits, and appealed earnestly to the Assem bly for vigorous means of relief. It was again a lesson for his after life when a greater foe was to be pressing our more extended frontiers under his care, and the reluctance or weakness of the Virginia Legislature was to be reproduced, in an exaggerated form, in the imbecility of Congress. We shall thus behold Washington, everywhere the patient child of experience, unwea- riedly conning his lesson, learning, from actual life, the statesman s know ledge of man and affairs. He was sent into this school of the world early, for he was yet but twenty-three, when this guardianship of the State was placed upon his shoulders. We find him again jealous of autho rity in the interests of the service. A certain Captain Dagworthy, in a small command at Fort Cumberland, refused obedience to orders, asserting his privi lege as a royal officer of the late cam paign, and the question was ultimately referred to General Shirley, the com- mander-in-chief at Boston. Thither Washington himself carried his appeal, making his journey on horseback in the midst of winter, and had his view of his superior authority confirmed. A bit of romance also has been con nected with this tour on public busi ness. At New York he was entertain ed by a friend in Beverley Robinson, of a Virginia family, who had married one of the heiresses of the wealthy landowner of the Hudson, Adolphus Philipse, the proprietor of the manor of that name. Mrs. Robinson had a sister equally wealthy with herself, young and beautiful, of whom it was said Washington, who was by no means insensible to female charms, and who had also a prudent regard for fortune, became enamored. Indeed, his admiration, says Mr. Irving, is " an historical fact." The story is some- GEORGE WASHINGTON. 15 times added, that lie sought her hand and was rejected, but this the excellent authority ju-t cited discredits as iiu- ble. Urgent public all airs called the gallant officer to new struggles in the wilderness, and the lucky prize passed into the arms of a brother officer of Braddock s stall*. Returning immediately to Virginia, Colonel Washington continued his employment in active military duties, struggling not less with the inetlicient nibly at home, whom he tried to arouse, than with the enemy abroad. It was a trying service, in which the commander, spite of every hardship which he freely encountered, was sure to meet the. reproach of the suffering public. The disinterested conduct of Washington proved no exception to the rule. He even experienced the in gratitude of harsh newspaper comments, and thought for the moment of r nation ; but his friends, the noblest spirits in the colony, reassured him of their confidence, and he steadily went on. The arrival of Lord Loudoun, so pleasantly satirized by Franklin in his Autobiography, as oommander-in<chief of his majesty s forces, seemed to oiler some opportunity for more active ope rations, and Washington drew up a memorial of the affairs he had in charge for his instruction, and met him in conference at Philadelphia. Little, however, resulted from these negotia tions for the relief of Virginia, and Washington, exhausted by his labors, was compelled to seek retirement at Mount Vernon, where he lay for some time prostrated by an attack of fever. In the next spring, of 1758, he was enabled to resume his command. The Virginia troops took the Held, joined to the forces of the Uritish general, Forbes, and the year, after various, dis astrous movements, which might have been better directed had the? counsels of Washington prevailed, was signal ized by the capture of Fort Du Quesne. Wa-hiiiLfton, with his Virginians, tra- O O versed the ground whitened with the bones of his former comrades in Brad- dock s expedition, and with his entry of the fort closed the French dominions on the Ohio The war had taken another direction on the Canadian frontier in New York, and Virginia was left in repose. Shortly after this event, in January, 1759, Washington was married to Mrs. Martha Oust is, of the White House, county of New Kent. This lady, 1 >orn in the same year with himself, and conse quently in the full bloom of youth ful womanhood, at twenty-seven, was the widow of a wealthy lauded proprietor whose death had occurred three years before. Her maiden name was Dan- d ridge, and she was of Welsh descent. The prudence and gravity of her dis position eminently fitted her to be the wife of Washington. She was her husband s sole executrix, and managed the complicated affairs of the estates which he had left, involving the raising of crops and sale of them in Europe, with ability. Her personal charms too, in these days of her widowhood, are highly spoken of. The well-known portrait by Woolaston, painted at this period, presents a neat, animated figure, with regular features, dark chestnut hair, and hazel eyes, in a dress which. 16 GEORGE WASHINGTON. changed often in the interval, the whirlitn^ of fashion has restored to the O O year in which we write, 1860. The story of the courtship is too character istic to be omitted. The first sight of the lady, at least in her widowhood, by the gallant Colonel, was on one of his military journeyings during the last campaign, just alluded to, of the old French war. He was speeding to the Council at Williamsburg, on a special message, to stir up aid for the camp, when, crossing the ferry over the Pani- unkey, a branch of York River, he was waylaid by one of the residents of the region, who compelled him, by the inexorable laws of old Virginia hospi tality, to stop for dinner at his man sion. The energetic officer, intent on despatch, was reluctant to yield a moment from his affairs of state, but there was no escape of such a guest from such a host. Within, he found Mrs. Custis, whose attractions recon ciled even Washington to delay. He not only stayed to dine, but he passed the night, a charmed guest, with his friendly entertainer. The lady s resi dence, fortunately, was in the neighbor hood of Williamsburg, and a soldier s life requiring a prompt disposition of his opportunities, the Colonel, mindful, perhaps, of the loss of Miss Philipse under similar circumstances, pressed his suit with vigor, and secured the lady at once in the midst of her suit ors. He corresponded with her con stantly during the remainder of the campaign, and in the month of Jan uary, 1759, the wedding took place with great e"clat, at the bride s estate at the White House. The honeymoon was the inauguration of a new and pacific era of Washington s hitherto troubled military life. Yet even this repose proved the in troduction to new public duties. With a sense of the obligations befitting a Virginia gentleman, Washington had offered himself to the suffrages of his O fellow countrymen at Winchester, and been elected a member of the House of Burgesses. About the time of his marriage, he took his seat, when an incident occurred which has been often narrated. The Speaker, by a vote of the House, having been directed to / O return thanks to him for his eminent military services, at once performed the duty with warmth and eloquence. Washington rose to express his thanks, but, never voluble before the public became too embarrassed to utter a syl lable. "Sit down, Mr. Washington," was the Courteous relief of the gentle man who had addressed him, " your modesty equals your valor, and that surpasses the power of any language I possess." He continued a member of the House, diligently attending to its business till he was called to the work of the Revolution, in this way adding to his experiences in war, familiarity with the practical duties of a legislator and statesman. He was constantly pre sent at the debates, it being " a maxim with him through life," as his biogra pher, Mr. Sparks, observes and no one has traced his course more minutely, or is better entitled to offer the remark " to execute punctually and thoroughly every charge which he undertook." Duties like these from such a man were a graceful addition to the plan- GEORGE WASHINGTON. 17 ter s life. After a short sojourn at his wife s estate, In- carried JUT to the house at Mount Vernon, which now became a homo. Two children of his wife, by her former marriage, a l>oy and girl, ix and four years old, accompanied her. "I am now, I believe," wrote her husband, to a correspondent in Lon don, u fixed at this seat with an agree- altle partner for life, and I hope to find more happiness in retirement than I ever experienced amidst the wide and hustling world." The occupations and resources of his life at this period have been fondly detailed by his biographers from the numerous memoranda of his diaries, almanacs, and note-looks. The hum blest proceedings of farm business and the daily management of his affairs are uncovered before our eyes. We may learn the cares and provision of negro lal >r on the plantation, and the need of watchfulness in the midst of abund ance. " Would any one believe," says he in one of these records of 1708, "that with a hundred and one cows actually reported at a late enumeration of the cattle, I should still be obliged to buy butter for my family?" The very items of his housekeeping and per sonal apparel may be gathered from his orders to his London correspon dents, for in the state of dependence in which the mother country then kept her colonies, it was necessary to procure a coat or a pair of shoes from London. Some of our finely dressed aristocratic ancestors must needs have gone in ill fitting garments. Certainly a fashion able tailor of the present day would scarcely be able to supply an order, 3 without great hazard to his reputation, from such a description as Washington sent of himself, MS a man "six fe.-t : and proportionally made; if anything rather slender for a person of that height." It was a convenient thing then to have a particular friend with a foot of the same size as your own, as Washington had in Colonel Beiler, when he availed himself in his direc tions across the water of that gentle man s last, only " a little wider over the instep." We may trace the parapher nalia of the bride in these orders for Mrs. Washington, in the year of their mar riage the " salmon-colored tabby," and the Brussels lace, and the very play things for little Miss Martha "a fashionable dressed doll to cost a guinea," and another for rougher, week day handling, to cost live shillings ; and there, is the genteel attire for " Master Custis, eight years old," his " silver laced hat," " neat pumps," and " sil ver shoe and knee buckles" vanities moderated by the introduction of " a small Bible neatly bound in Turkey, and John Parke Custis wrote in gilt letters on the inside of the cover," with a prayer book to match. Here, too, in the same familiar handwriting of Wash- O ington, is an order for several busts f >r the decoration of the family mansion, now assuming proportions worthy the new alliance which had brought lands and money to its owner s fortunes " one of Alexander the Great ; another of Julius Csesar; another of Charles XIL, of Sweden, and a fourth, of the King of Prussia." A good selection for a soldier who had looked upon the realities of military life. We shall by 18 GEORGE WASHINGTON. and by see that same King of Prussia, the great Frederick, sending a portrait of himself with the message, "From the oldest general in Europe to the greatest general in the world." The daily life of the gentleman plan ter is all the while going on, the crops of wheat and tobacco getting in, which were to be embarked beneath his eye on the broad bosom of the Potomac on their voyage to England and the West Indies. So well established was his repute as a producer, that a barrel of flour bearing his brand was ex empted from inspection in the ports of the latter country. Cordial hospi tality was going on within doors, and wholesome country sports without. He had hounds for the fox hunt ; there were deer to be killed in his woods, abundant wild fowl on his meadows in the season and fisheries in the river at his feet : and that there might be no falling into rusticity, came the annual state visits, when he was accompanied by Mrs. Washington, to the notable picked society at the capitals, Williams- burg and Annapolis. It was a hearty, generous life, fitted to breed manly thoughts and good resolution against the coming time, when the share shall be again exchanged for the sword, and the humble argument of the vestry at the little church at Pohick, where good, eccentric Parson Weems, incul cated his moralities, for the louder con troversy of national debate. In fine, look upon Washington at this or any other period of his life, we ever find him industrious, always useful ; his ac tivity and influence radiating from the centre of domestic life, and his private virtue, to the largest interests of the world. Fifteen years had been thus passed at Mount Vernon, when the peace of provincial life began to be ruined by a new agitation. France had formerly fur nished the stirring theme of opposition and resistance when America poured out her best blood at the call of British statesmen, and helped to restore the fall ing greatness of England. That same Parliament which had been so wonder fully revived when America seconded the call of Chatham, was now to inflict an insupportable wound upon her de fenders. The seeds of the Revolution must be looked for in the previous war with France. There and then America became acquainted with her own pow ers, and the strength and weakness of British soldiers and placemen. To no one had the lesson been better taught than to Washington. By no one was it studied with more impartiality. There was no faction in his opposition. The traditions of his family, his friends, the provinces, were all in favor of allegi ance to the British government. He had nothing in his composition of the disorganizing mind of a mere political ag-itator, a breeder of discontent. The O interests of his large landed estates, and a revenue dependent upon exports,, bound him to the British nation. But there was one principle in his nature stronger in its influence than all these O material ties the love of justice ; and when Patrick Henry rose in the House of Burgesses, with his eloquent assertion of the rights of the colony in the mat ter of taxation, Washington was there in his seat to respond to the sentiment. GEOlir.K \YASUINiJTON. 19 To this memorable occasion, on the S .Mh May, 17i>.~>, has been referred the birth of that patriotic fervor in the mind <>f Washington. welcoming as it O O was developed a new order of things which never ivstnl till the liberties of the country were established on the firmest foundations of independence and civil order. " His correspondence," says Irving, writing of tins incident, "hitherto had not turned on political or speculative themes; being engrossed by either military or agricultural mat ters, and evincing little anticipation of the vortex of pultlic duties into which he was uliout to l>e drawn. All his previous conduct and writings sho\v a loyal devotion to the crown, with a patriotic attachment to his country, probable, that, on the present occa sion, that latent patriotism received its first electric shock." Be this as it may, he was certainly from the beginning an earnest supporter of the constitutional liberties of his country, and met eveiy fresh aggression of Parliament as it oo , in the most resolute manner. He took part in the local Virginia reso lutions, and on the meeting of the first Congress, in Philadelphia, went up to that honored body with Patrick Henry and Edmund Peudleton. He was at this time a firm, unyielding inaintainer of the rights in controversy, and fully prepared for any issue which might grow out of them; but he was no revolutionist for it was not in the nature of his mind to consider a demand for justice a provocative to war. Again, in Virginia, after the ad journment of Congress, in the important Convention at Richmond, he listens to the impetuous eloquence of Patrick Henry. It was this body which on loot a popular military organization in the colony, ami Wa-hin--Ion, who had previously given his aid to the independent companies, was a men of the Committee to report the plan. A few days later, he wrii.-s to his brother, John Augustine, who \\as employed in training a company, that, he would "very cheerfully accept the honor of commanding it, if occasion require it to be drawn out." The second Continental Congress, of which Washington was also a member, met at Philadelphia in May, 177"), its members gathering to the deliberations with throbbing hearts, the musketry of Lexington ringing in their ears. The overtures of war by the I ritish troops in Massachusetts had gathered a little provincial army about Boston ; a national organization was a measure no longer of choice, but of necessity. A Commander-in-Chief was to be ap pointed, and though the selection was not altogether free from local jealousies, the superior merit of Washington was seconded by the superior patriotism of the Congress, and on the fifteenth of June he was unanimously elected by ballot to the high position. His modesty in accepting the office was as noticeable as his fitness for it. I It- was not the man to flinch from any duty, because it was hazardous ; but it is worth knowing, that we may form a due estimate of his character, that he felt to the quick the full force of the sacrifices of ease and happiness that he was making, and the new difficulties he w r as inevitably to encounter. He 20 GEORGE WASHINGTON. was so impressed with the probabilities of failure, and so little disposed to vaunt liis own powers, that he begged gentlemen in the House to remember, " lest some unlucky event should hap pen unfavorable to his reputation," that he thought himself, " with the utmost sincerity, unequal to the com mand he was honored with." With a manly spirit of patriotic independence, worthy the highest eulogy, he declared his intention to keep an exact account of his public expenses, and accept nothing more for his services a reso lution which was faithfully kept to the letter. With these disinterested pre liminaries, he proceeded to Cambridge, and took command of the army on the third of July. Bunker Hill had been fought, establishing the valor of the native militia, and the leaguer of Boston was already formed, though with inadequate forces. There was ex cellent individual material in the men, but everything was to be done for their organization and equipment. Above all, there was an absolute want of powder. It was impossible to make any serious attempt upon the British in Boston, but the utmost heroism was shown in cutting off their resources and hemming them in. Humble as were these inefficient means in the present, the prospect of the future was darkened by the short enlistments of the army, which were made only for the year, Congress expecting in that time a favorable answer to , their second Petition to the King. The new re cruits came in slowly, and means were feebly supplied, but Washington, bent on action, determined upon an attack. For this purpose, he took possession of and fortified Dorchester Heights, and prepared to assail the town. The British were making an attempt to dis lodge him, which was deferred by a storm ; and General Howe, having already resolved to evacuate the city, a few days after, on the 17th of March, ingloriously sailed away with his troops to Halifax. The next day, Washington entered the town in triumph. Thus ended the first epoch of his Revolution ary campaigns. There had been little opportunity for brilliant action, but great difficulties had been overcome with a more honorable persistence, and a substantial benefit had been gained. The full extent of the services of Wash ington became known only to his pos terity, since it was absolutely necessary at the time to conceal the difficulties under which he labored ; but the country saw and felt enough to extol his fame and award him an honest meed of gratitude. A special vote of Congress gave expression to the senti ment, and a gold medal, "bearing the head of Washington, and on the reverse the legend Hostibus primofugatis, was ordered by that body to commemorate the event. We must now follow the commander rapidly to another scene of operations, remembering that any detailed notice, however brief, of Washington s mili tary operations during the war, would expand this biographical sketch into a historical volume. New York was evi dently to be the next object of attack, and thither Washington gathered his forces, and made every available means of defence on land. By the beginning GEORGE WASHINGTON. 21 of July, when the Declaration of Inde- lence was received in camp, Gene ral Howe had made his :ippi-.-!ranee in the lower bay from Halifax, where he was speedily joined by his brother, 1 Howe, the admiral, who came bearing ineffectual propositions for re conciliation. Having oirasioii to ad dress the American Commander-in- C hief, he failed to irive him his proper title, lest he should recogni/e his posi tion, but superseribed his letter, "To George Washington, Esq." This was borne by a messenger asking for Mr. Washington, who was properly re minded, by the adjutant who met him, that he knew of no such person in the army, and the letter being produced, it was pronounced inadmissible. The messenger accordingly returned, and General Howe, some days after, sent another, -\\lio asked for (rt n< rdl Wa-di- ington, and being admitted to his presence, addressed him as Your Excel- l< .in-tj, oil eiing another letter with vari ous etceteras appended to the simple name, urging that they meant ."every thing." But Washington was not to o o be caught by a subterfuge. They may, indeed, said he, mean " every thing," but they also mean " anything," and he could not receive a letter relat ing to liis public station directed to him as a private person. So the Brit ish adjutant was compelled to report the contents of the epistle, which re lated to the reconciliation ; but here again he was checkmated by Washing ton, who, aware of the nature of Lord Howe s overtures, replied that they were but pardons, and the Americans, who had committed no offence, but stood only upon their r! >uld stand in no need of them. Thus ter minated this interview, a mt charae- teristie one, a model for diplomatic action, and even private courtesy, which was highly appreciated by Con_ and the country at the time, and which will never be forgotten. Additional reinforcements to the royal troops on Staten Island now arrived from England; a landing made by the well-equipped army on Long Island, and a battle was immi nent. Washington, who had his head quarters in New York, made vigilant preparations around the city, and at the works on Long Island, which had been planned and fortified by General Greene. This officer unfortunately falling ill, the command fell to General Putnam, who was particularly charged by Washington with instructions for the defence of the passes by which the enemy might approach. These were neglected, an attack was made from opposite sides, and in spite of much valiant fighting on the part of the va rious defenders, who contended with fearful odds, the day was most disas trous to the Americans. The slaughter was great on this 27th of August, and many prisoners, including General Sul livan and Lord Stirling, were taken. Still the main works at Brooklyn, occu pied by the American troops, remained, though, exposed as they were to the enemy s fleet, they were no longer ten able. Washington, whose duties kept him in the city to be ready for its de fence, as soon as lie heard of the engagement, hastened to the spot, but it was too late to turn the fortunes of 22 GEORGE WASHINGTON the day. He was compelled to witness tlie disaster, tradition tells us, not with out the deepest emotion. An unknown contemporary versifier of the war, in his simple rhymes, has commemorated the scene : " Brave Washington did say, Alas ! good God, Brave men I ve lost to-day, They re in their blood. His grief he did express To see them in distress, His tears and hands witness He lov d his men." But it was the glory of Washington to save the remnant of the army by a retreat more memorable than the vic tory of General Clinton. The day after the battle, and the next, were passed without any decisive movements on the part of the British, who were about bringing up their ships, and who, doubtless, as they had good reason, considered their prey secure. On the twenty-ninth, Washington took his measures for the retreat, and so per fectly were they arranged, that the whole force of nine thousand, with ar tillery, horses, and the entire equipage of war, were borne off that night, under cover of the fog, to the opposite shore in triumph. It was a most masterly operation, planned and superintended by Washington from the beginning. He did not sleep or rest after the bat tle till it was executed, and was among the last to cross. After this followed in rapid succes sion, though with no undue haste, the abandonment of New York, the with- 1 Ballad Literature of the Revolution. Cyclopaedia of American Literature, I. 445. drawal of the troops into Westch ester, the affair at White Plains, the more serious loss of Fort Washington, and O / the retreat through the Jerseys. It was the darkest period of the war, the days of which Paine wrote in the inemorable expression of the opening number of his " Crisis." " These are the times that try men s souls : the sum mer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of his country; but he that stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman." To infe riority in numbers, with a host at its heels, the American soldiery added the serious disqualifying conditions of lack of discipline and poverty of equipment. Enlisted for short terms, with all the evils of a voluntary militia unused to service, it was, as Hamilton, who shared the great chieftain s solicitudes, express ed it, but " the phantom of a military force." The letters of Washington, at this period, and indeed generally throughout the war, are filled with the anxieties of his position, in which he saw his fame perilled with the welfare of his country. The severest suffering for an ingenuous mind is, perhaps, to bear unworthy reproach, to be miscon ceived by a public for whom eveiy sacrifice is silently borne and endured. This was Washington s lot, for long, weary years of marching and counter marching: between the Hudson and the o Chesapeake, husbanding his small, inef ficient force, retreating to-day, to-mor row advancing, working the "phan tom " with such success in the face of the enemy as to perplex the movements of experienced generals with consider- : WASHINGTON. 23 able forces. Nor was the fault altoge ther at the <l<>r >f Congress. That body was, indeed, a popular representa tion, composed, at the outset, of very able nini, and always having such included in its numbers; but it was very loosely tied t> its constituency. At present, ilk- delegated jinwer of the representative, where n<t specially Con trolled, is absolute; but in the ttimsy texture of the unformed body politic of the old confederacy, there was little cohesion of parts or attention to mu tual duties. The battles of the Devo lution were fought with half-disciplined armies at the will of a half-formed administration. Loral State jealousies had to be conciliated, and the people could not appreciate the advantag-- of an army, (irmly handled, as the in-tru- ment of its own sovereign authority. The battle had to be fought often and O in many parts of the country, according to the immediate necessity and tempo rary inclination. Much was gained by Washington, but it came slowly and reluctantly, though there were brilliant exceptions in the service. Generally, there was a want of regularity and uniformity. It was somewhat reme died by the extraordinary powers con ferred upon Washington at the close of 17 70, but the evil was inherent in the necessarily loose political organiza tion. After the battle of Long Island, there had been little but weariness and disaster, in the movements of Wash ington, to the end of the year, when, as the forces of Howe were apparently closing in upon him to open the route to Pliiladelphia, he turned in very despair, and by the brilliant a Hair at Trenton retarded the motions of the enemy and checked t wring de spondency <>f his countrymen. It was well planned and courageously under taken. Christmas night, of a most inclement, wintry season, when the river was blocked with ice, was ehosen to cross the Delaware, and attack the British and Hessian-* on the opposite side at Trenton. The expedition was led by Washington in person, who anxiously watched the slow process of the transportation on the river, which lasted from sunset till near the dawn- too long for the contemplated surprise by night. A storm of hail and snow now set in, as the General advanced with his men, reaching the outposts about eight o clock. A gallant onset was made, in which Lieut. Monroe, vvards the President, was wounded ; Sullivan and the other officers, accord ing to a previously arranged plan, seconded the movement from another part of the town; the Hessians were disconcerted, and their general, Ilahl, slain, when a surrender was made, nearly a thousand prisoners laying down their arms. General Howe, astonished at the event, sent out Cornwallis in pursuit, and he had his game seemingly secure, when Wash ington, in front of him at Trenton, on the same side of the Delaware, made a bold diversion in an attack on t he- forces left behind at Princeton. It was, like the previous one, conducted 1 y night, and, like the other, was attended with success, though it cost the life of the gallant Mercer. After these bril liant actions the little army took up GEORGE WASHINGTON. its quarters at Morristown for the winter. In the spring, General Howe made some serious attempts at breaking up the line of "Washington in New Jersey, but he was foiled, and compelled to geek another method of reaching Phila delphia. The withdrawal of the Brit ish troops would thus have left a simple course to be pursued on the Delaware, had not the attention of Washington been called in another direction by the advance of Burgoyne from Canada. It was natural to suppose that Howe would act in concert with that officer on the Hudson, nor was Washington relieved from the dilemma till intelli gence reached him that the British general had embarked his forces, and was actually at the Capes of the Dela ware. He then took up a position at Germantown for the defence of Phila delphia. Visiting the city for the pur pose of conference with Congress, he there found the Marquis de Lafayette, who had just presented himself, as a volunteer in the cause of liberty, to the government. His reception by Con gress had halted a little on his first arrival, but his disinterestedness had overcome all obstacles, and Washington, who had schooled himself to look upon realities without prejudice, gave the young foreign officer a cordial welcome. He took him to the camp, and soon gave him an opportunity to bleed in the sacred cause. Howe, meanwhile, the summer hav ing passed away in these uncertainties, was slowly making his way up the Chesapeake to the Head of Elk, to gain access to Philadelphia from Maryland, and the American army was advanced to meet him. The British troops num bered about eighteen thousand ; the American, perhaps two-thirds of that number. A stand was made by the latter at Chad s Ford, on the east side of the Brandywine, to which Knyphau- sen was opposed on the opposite bank, while Cornwallis, with a large division, took the upper course of the river, and turned the flank of the position. Gene ral Sullivan was intrusted with this portion of the defence ; but time was lost, in the uncertainty of information, in meeting the movement, and when the parties met, Cornwallis had greatly the advantage. A rout ensued, which was saved from utter defeat by the resistance of General Greene, who was placed at an advantageous point. La fayette was severely wounded in the leg in the course of the conflict. Washington was not dismayed by the disaster ; on the contrary, he kept the field, marshalling and manoeuvring through a hostile country, one thousand of his troops, as he informed Congress, actually barefoot. He would have offered battle, but he was without the means to resist effectually the occupa tion of Philadelphia. A part of the enemy s forces were stationed at Ger mantown, a few miles from the city. Washington, considering them in an exposed situation, planned a surprise. It was well arranged, and at the outset was successful ; but, owing to the con fusion in the heavy fog of the October morning, and loss of strength and time in attacking & strongly defended man sion at the entrance of the village, what should have been a brilliant victory GEOIICK WASHINGTON. 25 was changed into a partial defeat. The action, however, as Mr. Sparks ob serves, was "not without its good ( fleets. It revived the hopes of tin 1 country by proving, that notwithstand ing the recent successes of the enemy, neither the spirit, resolution and valor of the troops, nor the energy and confi dence of the commander, had suffered an\ diminution." It was the remark of the Freiieh minister, the Count de >n hearing of these transac tions, " that nothing struck him so much as General Washington s attack ing and giving battle to General Howe s army ; that to bring an army, raised within a year, to this, promised every thing." Tims closed the campaign of 1777 in Pennsylvania, while Burgoyne was lay ing down his arms to the northern army at Saratoga. Though it was Washington s lot to endure all the difficulties of the service while Gates was reaping the rewards of victory, the former had his share in the counsels which led to that brilliant event. His letter to Schuyler, of the 22d of July, exhibited a knowledge of the position, and a prescience of the exact result, which show how successfully he would have managed the campaign in person. He notices Burgoyne s first successes, and argues that they " will precipitate his ruin," while he sees his weakness in acting in detachment, exposing his par lies to great hazard. " Could we," he writes, " be so happy as to cut one of them off, supposing it should not ex ceed four, five, or six hundred men, it 1 inspirit the people, and do away much of their present anxiety." 4 Had h- written after, instead of befoiv the event, he could not betti-r have described the influence of IJcniiin To Washington, as the directing head of the national army, belongs his full share of the glories of Saratoga ; the accidental greatness which fell to the vainglorious Gates was made the occasion of assaults upon the Coinman- der-in-Chief, which would have crept from their mean concealments into open revolt, had not the conspiracy been strangled in its infancy by the incor ruptibility of his friends and the virtue of the count. r) . The encampment at Valley Forge succeeded the scenes we have de scribed. It is a name synonymous with suH erini*. Half clad, wantiii"- fre- O O (juently the simplest clothing, without shoes or blankets, the army was hutted in the snows and ice of that inclement winter. Yet they had Washington with them urging every means for their welfare, while his " Lady," as his wife was always called in the army, came from Mount Vernon, as was her custom during these winter encampments, to lighten the prevailing despondency. She lived simply with her husband, sharing the humble provisions of the camp, and occupying herself with her needle in preparing garments fr the naked. Washington, meanwhile, was busy with a Committee of Congress in putting the army on a better foundation. With the return of summer came the evacuation of Philadelphia by the Brit- i>h, who were pursuing their route across New Jersey to embark on the waters of New York. Washington with his forces was watching their 26 GEORGE WASHINGTON. movements from above. Shall lie at tack tliem on their march ? There was a division of opinion among his officers. The equivocal Charles Lee, then un suspected, was opposed to the step ; but Washington, with his best advisers, Greene, Lafayette, and Wayne, was in favor of it. He accordingly sent La fayette forward, when Lee interposed, and claimed the command of the ad vance. Washington himself moved on with the reserve towards the enemy s position near Monmouth Court House, to take part in the fortunes of the day, the 28th of June. As he was proceed ing, he was met by the intelligence that Lee was in full retreat, without notice or apparent cause, endangering the order of the rear, and threatening the utmost confusion. Presently he came upon Lee himself, and demanded from him with an emphasis roused by the fiercest indignation and the anger of Washington when excited was terrific the cause of the disorder. Lee re plied angrily, and gave such explana tion as he could of a superior force, when Washington, doubtless mindful of his previous conduct, answered him with dissatisfaction, and, it is said, on the authority of Lafayette, ended by calling the retreating general "a damned poltroon." 1 It was a great day for the genius of Washington. He made his arrangements on the spot to retrieve the fortunes of the hour, and so admirable were the dispositions, and so well was he seconded by the bravery of officers and men, even Lee, redeem ing his character by his valor, that at 1 Dawson s " Battles of the United States," I. 408. the close of that hot and weary day, the Americans having added greatly to the glory of their arms, remained at least equal masters of the field. The next morning it was found that Sir Henry Clinton had withdrawn towards Sandy Hook. The remainder of the season was passed by Washington on the eastern borders of the Hudson, in readiness to cooperate with the French, who had now arrived under D Estaing, and in watching the British in New York. In December he took up his winter quarters at Middlebrook, in New Jersey. The event of the next year in the little army of Washington, was Wayne s gallant storming of Stony Point, on the Hudson, one of the de fences of the Highlands, which had been recently captured and manned by Sir Henry Clinton. The attack on the night of the 15th July was planned by Washington, and his directions in his in structions to Wayne, models of careful military precision, were faithfully car ried out. Henry Lee s spirited attack on Paulus Hook, within sight of New York, followed, to cheer the encamp ment of Washington, who now busied himself in fortifying West Point. Win ter again finds the army in quarters in New Jersey, this time at Morristown, when the hardships and severities of Valley Forge were even exceeded in the distressed condition of the troops in that rigorous season. The main incidents of the war are henceforth at the South. The most prominent ev^nt in the personal career of Washington, of the year IT 80, is certainly the defection of Arnold, with its attendant execution of Major Andre. This unhappy trea-- GEOIUJK WASHINGTON. 27 son was every way calculated to enlist his feelings, but lie suH ered neither hate nor sympathy to di\ert him from tin- considerate path of duty. We may not pause over the subsequent events of the war, the ivncwed exertions of Congress, the severe contests in the South, the meditated movement upon New York the following year, but must hasten to the sequel at Yorktown. The movement of the army of Washington t<> Virginia was determined by the ex- .d arrival of the French fleet in that quarter from the West Indies. Lafayette was already on the spot, where he had been engaged in the de fence of the eountiy from the inroads of Arnold and Phillips. Cornwallis had arrived from the South, and unsus picious of any serious opposition was entrenching himself on York River. It was all that could be desired, and Washington, who had been planning an attack upon New York with Ro- chainbeau, now suddenly and secretly directed his forces by a rapid inarch southward. Extraordinary exertions were made to expedite the troops. The timely arrival of Colonel John La\vreus, from France, with an instal ment of the French loan in specie, came to the aid of the liberal efforts of the financier of the Revolution, Robert 7 . Morris. Lafayette, with the Virgin ians, was hedging in the fated Corn wallis. Washington had j ust left Phila delphia, when he heard the joyous news of the arrival of De Grasse in the Chesapeake. lie hastened on to the scene of action in advance of the troops, with De Rochambeau gaining time to pause at Mount Vernon, which he had not seen since the opening of the war, and enjoy a day s hurried hospitality with his Fivneh officers at the wel come mansion. Arrived at Williams- burl/, Washington urged on the mili tary movements with the energy of an- tieipated victory. "Hurry on, then, my dear sir," he wrote to General Lin coln, "with your troops on the wings of speed." To make the la>t arrange ments with the French admiral, he visited him in his ship, at the mouth of James River. Everything was t o 1 >e done before succor could arrive from the British fleet and troops at New York. The combined French and Ameri can forces closed in upon Yorktown, which was fortified by redoubts and batteries, and on the first of October. the place was completely invested. The first parallel was opened on the sixth. gun on the ninth, two annoying redoubts by French and American parties were set down for the night of the fourteenth. Hamilton, at the head of the latter, gallantly car ried one of the works at the point of the bayonet without firing a shot. Washington watched the proceeding at i m m i uent hazard. The redoubts gained were fortified and turned against the town. The second parallel was ready to open its fire. Cornwallis vainly at tempted to escape with his forces across the river. He received no relief from Sir Henry Clinton, at New York, and on the 17th he proposed a surrender. On the 19th, the terms having been dictated by Washington, the whole British force laid down their arms. It was the virtual termination of the war, Washington lighted the first The storming of 28 GEORGE WASHINGTON. the crowning act of a vast series of military operations planned and per fected by the genius of Washington. During the remainder of the war, his efforts and vigilance were not re laxed; and he had one opportunity, t?ver memorable in the annals of politi cal liberty, of showing his superiority to the common ambition of conquerors. In May, 1*782, a letter was addressed to him by Col. Nicola, an officer who had the esteem of the army, stating the inefficiency of the existing administra tion, and suggesting a mixed form of government, with a King at its head, with no indirect appeal to the ambition of the Commander-in-Chief as the proper recipient of the office. To this, Wash ington replied with the utmost decision, but without the least affectation of doing anything heroic ; he simply puts the idea out of the way as something utterly inadmissible, "painful" and "disagreeable" to his mind. He re jects it as a gentleman would an unhandsome suggestion. Much has been said of this matter, and there is reason to believe not unjustifiably, in praise of Washington. " There was unquestionably," says Mr. Sparks, " at this time, and for some time afterwards, a party in the army, neither small in number nor insignificant in character, prepared to second and sustain a measure of this kind, which they con ceived necessary to strengthen the civil power, draw out the resources of the country, and establish a durable govern ment." No one felt these evils more keenly than Washington, but he had too much faith in the Kepublic to despair of a better method of cure. He knew as well as any that he could not be king if he would ; the anecdote is quite sufficient to prove, where proof was not wanting, that he would not if he could. Another opportunity yet remained to exhibit his control of the temper of the army, and his habitual deference of military to civil government. The occasion arose while he was with the troops at headquarters at Newburg, in the spring of 1*783, on the eve of the receipt of the final intelligence of peace. Congress, always dilatory in providing for the army, had shown an unwillingness or incapacity to meet their claims ; patient remonstrance had been disregarded ; and now a meeting of officers was called, instigated by an appeal of extraordinary vigor, one of the compositions since ascertained to have been written by General John Armstrong, and known as " The New- burg Letters," which threatened serious revolt. It was not the first time that Washington had been called to act in such an emergency. In the withdrawal of the Pennsylvania line from the camp at the beginning of 1*781, he had met a similar difficulty, with great prudence and moderation. He now brought these qualities to bear with a quickness and decision proportioned to the crisis. Summoning the officers together, he addressed to them a firm O but tender remonstrance, opening his address with a touch of pathos which gained all hearts. Pausing after he had commenced his remarks, to take his spectacles from his pocket, he re marked that he had "grown grey in their service, and now I am growing GEORGE WASHINGTON. 29 Mind." It was the honr>t In-art >f % Washington, and tlie disaffected re sponded to the wisdom aiul feeling of his address. The news of peace arrived within the month, and the army prepared to M parnte. In nu iiiory of their fra ternity, the Society of tin 1 Cincinnati was founded, consist HILT of olliecrs of tlic Revolution and their descendants, with Washington at its head. In the o be"-inniu<r of November, he took leave o o of the army in an address from head quarters, with his accustomed warmth and emotion, and on the 25th, entered Xe\v York at the head of a military and civic procession as the British evacuated the city. On the 4th of December, he was escorted to the harbor on his way to Congress, at Annapolis, to resign his command, after a touching scene of farewell with o his officers at Fraunces Tavern^ when the great chieftain did not disdain the sensibility of a tear and the kiss of his friends. Arrived at Annapolis, having on the way delivered to the proper officer at Philadelphia his accounts of his expenses during the war, neatly written out by his own hand, on the twenty-third of the month he restored his commission to Congress, with a few remarks of great felicity, in which he commended " the interests of our dearest country to the protection of Almighty God ; and those who have the superintendence of them to his holy keeping." Mount Vernon airain welcomed its restored lord. He reached his home the day before Christmas, and cheerily, doubtless, the smoke on that sacred holiday ascended from the thankful festivities. A fe\v days after, a letter to (lovernor Clinton, of Xe\v York, his old comrade in arms, records the inner most feeling of his heart. "Tin- sceiie, r he writes, u is at last closed. I fed myself e;,s-d of a load of public care. I hope to spend* the remainder of my days in cultivating the affections of good men and in the practice of the domestic virtues." Did ever conqueror so resign his heart before? "We may not linger, tempting as is the thome, over the simple life on the Potomac, though there is to be studied, no less than in camps and senates, the true nature of the man. Kind, hos pitable, sympathetic to eveiy worthy appeal, engaged in the care of his estate, sowing, planting, reaping, the youthfulness of his old family circle renewed in the children of young Custis, who had followed his sister to an early grave, he lived in dignified, cheerful retirement. He even revived his old spoils of the chase, though he had no longer the veteran Fairfax to cheer him on with his halloo. The old nobleman had lived to listen to the tidings of Yorktown, when he turned himself to the wall ami died. Here Fame might be content to close the scene in her record of her favorite child. At the treaty of peace he was fifty-one, and had gloriously consum mated the duties of two memorable eras in the history of his country, each drawing along its train of ideas the war with France and the war with Great Britain; a double relief from foreign bondage; the establishment of religious and political independence. 30 GEORGE WASHINGTON. His services to either would well sup ply enough of incident and eulogy for these pages but two further eras are yet before him. He is to assist, by his all-powerful voice and example, in guiding the nation he, more than any, had formed, through its perilous crisis the dangerous period when it was first left to itself to the calm mainte nance of civil liberty. It is the youth just freed from the restraint of harsh and iniquitous parentage, putting him self under the yoke of a new and voluntary submission. This second pupilage, to self-government, resulted in the formation of the Constitution. Many ministered to that noble end, far more worthy of admiration even than the previous wars, but who more anx iously, more perseveringly, than "Wash ington ? His authority carried the heart and intelligence of the country with it, and most appropriately was he placed at the head of the Convention, in 1787, which gave a government to the scattered States and made America a nation. Once more he was called to listen to the highest demands of his country in his unanimous election to the Presi dency. With what emotions, with what humble resignation to the voice of duty, with how little fluttering of vain glory let the modest entry, in his Diary, of the 16th April, 1789, cited by Washington Irving, tell : " About ten o clock," he writes, "I bade adieu to Mount Vernon, to private life and to domestic felicity ; and with a mind op pressed with more anxious and pain ful sensations than I have words to express, set out for New York with the best disposition to render service to my country in obedience to its call, but with less hope of answering its expectations." He must have felt, gravely as he bore his responsibilities, something of exulting emotion as he was borne along to the seat of govern ment at New York by the hearty plaudits of his countrymen. Yet we never hear; in a single instance, then or afterwards, of his exhibiting any feeling, or manifesting any conduct inconsistent with the simplest decorum of a gentleman. He was eminently friendly and social, but calm, dignified, and reserved, superadding doubtless something, as was fitting, to his natural gravity, in thought of the nation which he represented, but far removed from mock greatness. We have the most authentic means of appreciating Washington at this time, in his private Diary, which has been printed, from the first day of October, 1789, to the 10th day of March, 1790. He had been five months seated in the Presidency, his inaugura tion having taken place on the 30th April. During a portion of this time he had been prostrated by illness, and death seemed at hand. We may pause to note his reply to his physician, Dr. Bard, who could not but express his fears of his recovery: "Whether to- mVht or twenty years hence makes no difference; I know that I am in the hands of a good Providence ;" the very breathing of pious resignation. If aught were needed, news of his mo ther s death, at Fredericksburg, came to temper the sober joy of his convales cence. The care of setting the machin- GEORGE WASHINGTON. 31 cry of the new government in motion succeeded, \vlien Congress adjourned, ami the Diary introduces us t> the Xe\v K: inland tour, extending into New Hampshire, to which lie devoted this interval of leisure. His roadside observations on this journey show his knowledge of n^riculture, of which he was always a fond observer, with many simple traits of character by the way, and one famed historic passage in his account of the reception at Boston, where (Jovernor Hancock, slow in appreciating national etiquette, seemed to hesitate whether more was due to himself or to his Presidential guest. We may learn, too, from the Diary, hi conscientious scrutiny, in private, of the processes leading to his public acts, and may venture within his sacred hours of retirement and open those doors which were always closed to the world On Sundays, he attends church in the morning, while at New York, at St. Pauls, and occupies the afternoons with his private correspondence. On Tuesday his house is open to all cornel s. There are many anecdotes of his residence here and at Philadelphia, of his mode of living during his two terms of the Presidency. lie was an early riser, a habit with him through life, and apportioned his day with the strictest accuracy. Economy he always practised on principle, " for the privi lege of being independent;" and the story is told of his rebuking his stew ard for bringing on his table an expen sive fish before it was in season. His table, however, was well served, and I In- affairs of his kitchen, like the rest of his establishment, were conducted with exemplary system. The name of his cook, Hercules, Uncle Ilnrkless," is commemorated in the "Recollections" of his adopted son, (leor-v Wa-hiiiirton I arke Clistis, who also tells us of the decorum preserved in the stables l>y the veteran, Bishop, who had been the body servant of General Braddock. The test of his " muslin horses " was, that they should not soil a handker chief of that fabric. Washington was a true Virginian in his fondness for horses. His cream-colored coach, with six shining bays, was long an object of admiration to the people of Philadel phia. These, and the like anecdotes, are subordinate to the greatness of Washington s public life, but they bring before us the man. 1 In 1791, Washington made a Proi dfiitial tour through the Southern States, similar to his tour to the 1 which has also been made public in his printed Diary. He travelled in his carriage along the seaboard through Virginia and the Carol inas to Georgia, when he had the opportunity of tra versing many scenes of the war, which In- had watched with so much anxiety, and which had been hitherto known to hijn only by report. 1 Ample illustrations of this character are before the public in Mr. Custis Recollection*, with Mr. Lossing s notes; the latter s " Mount Vernon ami its Associ the Northern and Southern Tours of Washington, in his two Diaries, published by Mr. Richardson, at New York, and the late Mr. Richard Rush s review of the Correspon dence of AVashington with his private secretary, Lear. Irving a Life abounds with fine personal traits of charac ter; Mrs. Kirkland has added much in her excellent "Memoirs" from a careful study of the original MSS. in the Department of State ; Paulding s " Life " has some thing that is not elsewhere, and every student ol Wash ington must acknowledge with pleasure his obligation in little things, as in groat, to Mr. J:irod Sparks. 32 GEORGE WASHINGTON. Meanwhile, parties were gradually forming in the government the conser vative and the progressive, such as will always arise in human institutions represented in the administration by the rival statesmen, Hamilton and Jef ferson ; but Washington honestly recog nized no guide but the welfare of his country, and the rising waves of faction beat harmlessly beneath his Presi dential chair. One test question, how ever, rose in those days into gigantic proportions. The example of America was followed by France with enthusi asm in the recovery of her liberties, and the hearts of noble-spirited men throughout the world responded to her efforts for freedom. Washington could not but extend his cordial sympathy, when Lafayette sent to him the thril ling intelligence, and forwarded to his keeping, as a souvenir of rising liberty, the key of the Bastile ; yet even then he breathes a prayer for the safety of his friend in " the tremendous tem pests " which had " assailed the political ship." In the darker days of the He- public, stained with blood, which suc ceeded, he watched with trembling the staggering of the ship. It was in Washington s second administration, to which he had been chosen with no dissentient voice, that French affairs really became a home question. The minister Genet then came to America, and prosecuted his insulting attempts to enlist the sympathies of America in the war of his country with England, and violate the professed neutrality of the government. A considerable por tion of the people were so forgetful of themselves and their country as to favor his schemes ; but no such sophis try or delusion could reach the mind of Washington. He stood firm, and the whole country learnt in time to acquiesce in the wisdom, of his decision ; but many a pang was inflicted first on the heart of the President, who was keenly sensitive to popular ingratitude. The contest culminated in the struggle over Jay s British Treaty in Congress, and Washington fairly gained a tri umph in the vote of approval. There were other public events of importance in his two administrations. The West ern Indian War, and the Pennsylvania Whisky Insurrection, both deeply engaged his attention. His emotion on first hearing the news of St. Glair s defeat, exhibited in the presence of his private secretary, Tobias Lear, was one of those bursts of passion, brief and rare, in his life, but fearful in their strength. His instructions to that officer, on parting, had been most care ful. He was about to engage in a war fare which Washington had learnt to know so well, in the experiences of his early life, and his injunctions were given with proportionate earnestness. " Beware," said he at parting, " of a surprise ;" and St. Clair departed with the startling admonition. When Wash ington heard of the disaster to his o troops, the scene of desolation, with all its consequences, came vividly to his mind with the lurking strength of his own old impressions. " Oh, God ! oh, God !" he exclaimed, " he s worse than a murderer ! How can he answer it to his country ! The blood of the slain is upon him the curse of widows and orphans the curse of heaven !" This GEORGE WASHINGTON. 33 fervid outbreak was followed, almost instantly, l>y the rebound, which wa* truly characteristic of Washington : " I will hear him without prejudice; he shall have justice." Thu<, in the rery tempest and whirlwind of his rage, in the words of the great dramatist, there was " a temperance to beget a smooth ness." Washington was always true to the cardinal principle of justice. In like manner with the Pennsylvania insurgents, he was zealous in the main- o tenauce of authority, but disposed to me ivy at the first signs of submis sion. As the close of his second adminis tration approached, he turned his thoughts eagerly to Mount Vernon for a few short years of repose ; and well had he earned them by his long series of services to his country. He would have been welcomed for a third term, but office had no temptation to divert him from his settled resolution. Yet he pailed fondly with the nation, and like a parent, desired to leave some <y of counsel to his countiy. Ac cordingly, he published in September, 1796, in the "Daily Advertiser," in Philadelphia, the paper known as his Farewell Address to the People of the United States. It had loner encra^ed O O O his attention ; he had planned it him self, and, careful of what he felt might be a landmark for ages, had consulted Jay, Madison and Hamilton in its com position. The spirit and sentiment, the political wisdom and patriotic fer vor were every whit his own. Open ing with a few personal remarks in reference to his Presidency, he proceeds enlarging his view to new generations 5 in the future. His first thought is for the preservation of national unity - that the Union should receive "a cor dial, habitual and immovable attach ment." The force of language cannot be exceeded with which he urges the importance of this theme by every appeal of sensibility and interest. The Constitution is then commended, as the guardian of the whole, to the national affection and respect, with a warning intimation of the dangers of party- spirit earned to excess. Equally upon governors and governed does he im press his views. At home he calls for the diffusion of knowledge, a respect for public credit, avoiding needless debt ; and for our intercourse with other nations, Strict impartiality. Let us have, says he, " as little political connection with them as possible. 1 This and Union are the main themes of the discourse, which closes with the anticipation of " that retreat in which I promise myself to realize, without alloy, the sweet enjoyment of partak ing, in the midst of my fellow-citizens, the benign influence of good laws under a free government, the ever favorite object of my heart, and the happy reward, as I trust, of our mutual cares, labors and dangers." Thus, once again, Mount Vernon re ceived her son, destined never long to repose unsolicited by his countiy. France, pursuing her downward course, adopted an aggressive policy towards the nation, which the most conciliating deference could no longer support. A state of quasi war existed, and actual war was imminent. The President looked to Washington to organize the GEORGE WASHINGTON. army and take the command, should it be brought into action, and he accord ingly busied himself in the necessary preparations. It was best, he thought, to be prepared for the worst while looking for the best. New negotiations were then opened, but he did not live to witness their pacific results. He was at his home at Mount Vernon, intent on public affairs, and making his rounds in his usual farm occupations, with a vigor and hardihood which had abated little for his years, when, on the 12th December, he suffered some con siderable exposure from a storm of snow and rain which came on while he was out, and in which he continued his ride. It proved, the next day, that he had taken cold, but he made light of it, and passed his usual evening cheerfully with the family circle. He became worse during the night with inflamma tion of the throat. He was seriously ill. Having sent for his old army sur geon, Dr. Craik, he was bled by his overseer, and again on the arrival of the physician. All was of no avail, and he calmly prepared to die. "I am not afraid," said he, " to go," while with ever thoughtful courtesy he thanked his friends and attendants for their little attentions. Thus the day wore away, till ten in the night, when his end was fast approaching. He noticed the failing moments, his last act being to place his hand upon his pulse, and calmly expired. It was the fourteenth of December, 1799. His remains were interred in the grave on the bank at Mount Vernon, in front of his residence, and there, in no long time, according to her prediction at the moment of his death, his wife, Martha, whose miniature he always wore on his breast, was laid beside him. She died within three years of her husband, at Mount Vernon, the 22d of May, 1802. We need not follow a mourning pub lic in their sorrow and lamentations over the grave of Washington, or trace the growing admiration which attends his name throughout the world wher ever it has been heard. His merits and virtues are now proudly spoken of and dearly reverenced in the land of his ancestors, against which he led the armies of his countrymen. Every day it is felt that he belongs more and more to the world. He enjoys that apotheosis of fame awarded to the great spirits of the earth, who have been chosen by Providence to grand national duties ; but more than most of them, his memory is the reward of a life of piety and purity, of simple faith and justice, of unrelaxing duty; great in its acts, greater in the heart, inspiring virtues which dictated them. JOHN ADAMS. THE Adams family, with whom private and public worth may be said to be hereditary, may be traced in the earliest annals of the colony of Massachusetts to Henry Adams, who, in 1(340, settled at Braintrec. His son Joseph adhered to the place through a long life and left a son of the same name who continued on the spot, while his elder brother John, the grandfather of the celebrated Sam uel Adams, removed to Boston. This Joseph last mentioned was the grand father of the second President of the United States. John Adams, the subject of this paper, was born in the town of Brain- tree, October 19, 1735. His father was something more than a respectable, he was a useful citizen of the town ; he had been educated at Har vard ; held the offices of deacon and selectman, honoring the one by his piety and discharging the other with fidelity, and according to a habit not unfrequent with small property-holders in New England, eked out the re sources of his farm by shoe-making. Taking care to transmit the benefit which he had received, he provided that his eldest son, John, should have the advantage of a college education. He was prepared for Harvard by the aid both of the Congregational minister and of the Episcopal reader at Brain- tree, was a good student of his class, which sent many eminent men into the world, and in due time graduated at the age of twenty in 1755. The talent which he displayed in the commence- | ment exercises, attracted the notice of a person present, charged with a commis sion to supply a Latin master for the Grammar School of Worcester. lie applied to Adams, who undertook the task, and shortly after set out on the horse sent for him by the town s people, making the sixty miles journey in a single day. This transfer from the home sphere was highly favorable to his development : he was thrown upon his own resources among strangers, and doubtless the privations and little vexations of his schoolmaster s life, stimulated his independent nature to further exertions. The school appears at first to have been very distasteful to his aspiring mind ; but he became reconciled to its duties, and doubtless profited by the discipline which he himself adminis tered. " I find," says he, after some months occupation at this drudgery in shaping the crude material of the Wor cester nurseries, " I find by repeated observation and experiment in my school, that human nature is more 85 36 JOHN ADAMS. easily wrought upon and governed by promises and encouragement and praise, than by punishment and threatening and blame" a sentence which should be grafted in the memory of every schoolmaster in the land. The pedagogue is not altogether given over to mending pens, the agree able alternations of birching and ferul- O ing or a-b-c-ing the boys, of which he humorously complains, but finds time to store his mind with good reading, makes acquaintance with the writings of such political philosophers as Gor don and Bolingbroke, and is ambitious of the society of the place, always con scious that John Adams should be somebody in the world, and that it is but an act of common justice to himself to take all proper means to secure the position. The house of Colonel James Putnam, an able lawyer of the place, is open to him ; thither he frequently resorts, and after awhile, the law secur ing his attention he had by this time pretty well argued himself out of the New England orthodoxy, and so given up any thoughts of the pulpit pro poses to study the profession with his friend. Mr. Putnam consents, and Mrs. Putnam makes provision in the house for the student, who is also to continue in charge of the urchins at the school. The legal apprenticeship con tinues two years, during which it is to be regretted that the Diary is silent, when John Adams takes leave of the population of Worcester, little and great, to se ell admission to the Colonial bar. He takes up his residence with his father at Braintree, or Quincy, as it is now called, at the old paternal dwell ing, and one day in October, 1758, goes to Boston to be introduced by Attorney-General Gridley, the father of the bar, to the Superior Court, and is admitted Attorney at Law in his Majesty s Courts of the Province. The attorney relaxes none of his dili gence in attention to the old law, in the study of laborious volumes, over which the dust has long gathered in legal libraries. Those were the days before Blackstone, when no republican road had been marked out to the secret places of the profession, when the maxim of Coke, the viginti annorum lucubmtione-s, was still in vogue, when no Lord Brougham or reviser of the statutes had risen to prepare the smooth pathway of legal reform. Reading the entries of these grave old studies, bur dened with the traditions of English centuries, from Bracton and Fleta, Coke and Fortescue, we may ask, "Where be his quiddets now, his quillets, his cases, his tenures, and his tricks 2" Gone with the old wigs and colonial state, and we need sigh no alas! at the reminiscence. We see Adams, in these years of opening manhood, lighted along his daily path by the cheerful, pleasant Diary, the man of the world and of society, emerging from the old formal ism ; the independent thinker, built on the antiquarian student, as he gathers strength from discussion, and takes the measure of the leaders of that clay. He is not backward in entering into con troversy with, and judging some of them, but he retires at night to be a more rigid censor of himself. There is a sufficient stock of vanity in some of JOITX ADAM.> 87 hi-* revelations, but there is a greater diiiidenee; and he manages to blend the t\vo into a good working union, dili gence furnishing the bottom, and vanity being only the spur to his honorable career. There is some vainglory, per haps, in his writing down, even pri vately for himself, how he spent his evenings in company with a book at the fireside, while Doctor Gardiner, Billy Belcher, Stephen Cleverly, the Quincys, and other young fellows of the town, are playing cards and drink ing punch at the tables : but it is not the less true that he is thereby preparing himself to emerge from poverty, receive fees, bear Parson Smith s daughter as his wife to his home, and in good time support the duties of the State. Hav ing mentioned this marriage, we may here, a little out of date, state that the event occurred in October, 1764; that the lady, the fair Abigail, was the daughter of the Rev. William Smith, of Weymouth, and grand-daughter of Colonel John Quincy, of Mount Wol- la-ton, of colonial fame; that she was young, and possessed accomplishments in intellect and reading, proportioned to his own, as her published letters testify ; and that the union, " the source of all his felicity," continued for fifty- three years, having its only pang in absence and the final separation. We are now to trace Adams politi cal career. It began with his offering public resolutions at Braiutree, and his maintaining an argument in behalf of the town of Boston, addressed to the Colonial Government in opposition to the Stamp Act. He published, about the same date, several papers in the " Boston Gazette," which wen- reprinted in London by Thomas Ilollis, who gavo them the not very fortunate title, " A Dissertation on the Canon and the Feudal Law," which has probably pre vented many persons looking at the tract, who would be interested by its review of the principles of the New England settlements, and its vigorous appeal to the people in the existing struggle. Notwithstanding he was looked to as a leader for the popular party, he had no sympathy with their acts of violence, and when the disturb ance occurred which resulted in the firing upon the people by the British troops, he independently and humanely, a thing which should always be re membered in his honor, gave his ser vices to Preston and the defence. This caused him some unpopularity, but did not hinder his election, immediately after, to the General Court, as the legis lative body was called in Massachu setts. When the news of his election was brought to him, he made his first appearance at Faneuil Hall, and ac cepted the choice. It was the turning point of his career. On one side lay a profitable legal practice, in a routine dear to the legal mind ; on the other a troubled sea of opposition and revolt. A popular nominee has seldom accepted an election with less of satisfaction. " I considered the step," he said, " as a devotion of my family to ruin and my self to death." Mrs. Adams burst into tears at the event, but approved the choice ; the duty was clear, and the rest was piously left to Providence. He was now a resident of Boston, but the constant labors of his profes- 88 JOHN ADAMS. sion, and the confinement of the city wearing upon his health, he resigned his seat in the Legislature, and a2;ain O / O made his residence in Braintree, having his office in Boston, His studies, family cares, and the duties of his pro fession, had thus far, rather than poli tics, mainly engaged his attention. The time was come, however, when business was at an end, and home, to be enjoyed, must be protected. If all the leaders of opinion did not speak openly of revolt and revolution, there were probably few of them who did not feel that they were drifting rapidly towards it. In 1774 he was appointed by the General Court one of the Representa tives to the Congress at Philadelphia; his associates being Thomas Cushing, Samuel Adams, and his troublesome old friend, "Bob," now Robert Treat Paine. They journeyed together in one coach, through Hartford and New Haven to New York. At New York Adams is much taken with McDougall, particularly his open manners. The delegates are received with hospitality, so that Adams complains of not being able to see the objects of interest in the town. What were they at that time ? The college, the churches, printing offices, and booksellers shops ; few in deed to be compared with the present lions, yet relatively great to the people of that day. Passing on to Princeton, his patriot ism is refreshed by a conference with President Witherspoon, " as high a son of liberty as any man in America." One of the first persons he is introduced to at Philadelphia is Charles Thomson, the perpetual Secretary of Congress, whom he understands is "the Sam Adams of Philadelphia, the life of the cause of liberty ;" a valuable testimony this, by the way, if he needed such, to the popular estimate of his associate. The business of the Congress at once engages his attention. He has to study " the characters and tempers, the prin ciples and views of fifty gentlemen, total strangers, and the trade, policy and whole interest of a dozen provinces ; to learn and practise reserve in the com munication of his plans and wishes." The discussions are tedious. "Every man is a great man, an orator, a critic, a statesman ; and therefore every man, upon every question, must show his oratory, his criticism, and his political abilities." Yet this Congress held Washington, Jay, Patrick Henry, Samuel Adams, John Dickinson, Rich ard Henry Lee, Rutledge, Gadsden, and other notables, and men learnt to sigh a few years afterwards, when the repre sentation fell into neglect, at the thought of these early deliberative giants. In fact, all great efforts have their weari ness ; of all things human, there is none great enough to satisfy the wants of the soul. Adams, with the rest, did his good day s work discussing a Declara tion of Rights, confronting Galloway, the projector of a plan for union with England, debating the non-importation resolutions, consulting with Patrick Henry on the Petition to the King, and when the long morning work is over, dining and feasting with the wealthy citizens of Philadelphia, in admiration at the costly entertainments, and a little surprised that he is not JOHN ADAMS. 39 !c(l l.y the unusual libations of Madeira. Returning Lome to Massachusetts O after the short session of this body, he is chosen to the Provincial Congress, already quite busy with revolt, and when this duty is discharged, turns his pen to answer the annoying Tory argu ments of Massachusettensis, Daniel Leonard, as it afterwards appeared, who was greatly dire-ring the hearts of the administration men in the colonies by his logical efforts in the " Gazette and Postboy." The replies of Adams, signed Novanglus, covering the old lecral and historical issues, twelve in o number, accomplished something of a diversion, or as the author afterwards expressed it, " had the effect of an anti dote -to the poison." There were several unpublished in the printer s hands, when the Battle of Lexington "changed the instruments of warfare from the pen to the sword." Three weeks afterwards he was at Philadel phia at the Second Congress, in 1775. Before his departure from Boston, he had visited the camp at Cambridge, and observed its necessities. Early on the assembling of Congress, he proposed Washington for Commander-in-Chief; " the modest and virtuous, the amiable, generous and brave," as he calls him in a letter to his wife, and has the satisfac tion of accompanying him a little way out of Philadelphia towards his distant command. Franklin, who had recently bid farewell to England, was also a member of this body. During the first session of this Con gress, Adams was diligently employed in the preparatory measures which led to the Declaration of Independence and Confederation of the following year. ^ As the time approached, his activity and boldness were displayed as the full grandeur of the scenes rose to his mind. " Objects," he wrote to William Cush- ing, "of the most stupendous magni tude, and measures in which the lives and liberties of millions yet unborn are intimately interested, are now be fore us." " Yesterday," he writes to his wife, on the third of July, 1776, on the passage of Lee s Resolution of In dependence, " the greatest question was decided which ever was debated in America, and a greater, perhaps, never was nor will be decided among men ;" and again the same day, in another let ter to Mrs. Adams, a remarkable pro phetic passage "The second day of July, 1770, will be the most memorable epoch in the history of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great Anniversary Festival. It ought to be commemorated, as the day of deli verance, by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bon fires and illuminations, from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward, forevennore." Adams was on the committee for pre paring the Declaration, and was active in the debate. In the absence of the present system of executive duties of government, the old Congress was com pelled to resort to the awkward ex pedient of boards, in which the honoi and efficiency, rather than the toil, were diminished by the division of labor 40 JOHN ADAMS. Adams was made chairman of the Board of War, and was much employed in military affairs till his departure from Congress at the close of the next year. In November, 1777, Congress, having become dissatisfied with the manage ment of Silas Dean, in France, appoint ed Adams in his place. He set sail in the frigate Boston in the ensuing February, from Boston, accompanied by his son, John Quincy, then a boy of ten. The voyage was diversified by a chase and a storm, and the usual incidents of navigation. Adams, as we learn from his Diary, employed himself in observations of the disci pline, the care of the men, and other points of naval regulation for which he had an eye from his duties in Congress. After a voyage of some six weeks, escaping the dreaded perils of the British cruisers, he was landed safely at Bordeaux. At Paris he took up his residence under the same roof with Dr. Franklin, and was shortly introduced by him to Vergennes and Maurepas. The domestic diplomacy of the com missioners was at first sio-ht more O formidable than that of the court. They were quite at odds with one ano ther. Lee with Franklin and Deane, the general mischief-monger of the o o party. Adams saw the source of the difficulty in the mingling of diplomatic, commercial, and pecuniary transactions, and advised that these duties should be divided. In accordance with his suggestions, Congress made the divi sion, creating Franklin minister at Paris, and sending Arthur Lee to Madrid. Oddly enough, Adams, the mover of the resolution, was left out of the programme entirely. Finding nothing to do in the way of govern ment employ, and indisposed to be an idle observer of the Parisians, though O he envies his " venerable colleague," as o / he calls Franklin, then seventy, his privileges with the ladies, and is rea dily pleased with the sights about him, he is bent upon returning home, and an opportunity at length offering itself in the departure of the French ambas sador, the Chevalier de la Luzerne, he sets sail from Lorient, June 17, The frigate Sensible arrived at Bos- o ton on the second of August ; within a week he was elected by his towns people, of Braintree, their delegate to the Convention to frame a Constitution for Massachusetts. The honor and responsibility of much of the work fell into his hands ; but before it was com pleted, he was again summoned to the foreign service of his country, as minis ter to negotiate with Great Britain. Embarking in the Sensible, the French O frigate in which he had returned, he was landed in Gallicia, travelled thence through Spain to Bayonne, a journey of which his Diary gives an interesting ac count, and arrived at Paris in February, 1780. Obstacles were here thrown in the way of his negotiation with England by the minister, Vergennes, who wished to keep the foreign policy of America under his control in subordination to French interests. The influence which the important aid rendered to America by the French government had given to her councils, occasioned much em barrassment in the adjustment of the treaty with England. It is a painful JOHN ADAMS. 41 portion of the history of America, this conflict of intrigue and benefits, of love of America and hatred of Eng land ; of Lafayette and Vergennes, smoothed over by the gratitude of Congress and the compliments of the monarchy, to break out into insidious plotting and open assault under the Revolution. This French imbroglio is henceforth to give John Adams a vast deal of trouble. Vergennes suspects his fidelity to the French anti- Anglican policy, and Adams, with Jay, thinks the Frenchman will sacrifice the inter ests of America, The negotiations are finally brought to a close by a body of commissioners charged with the work, embracing Adams, Franklin, Jay, Jeiferson, and Laurens. In the meantime, Adams is busy in Holland, cultivating the Dutch capitalists, pre paring the way for a loan and a treaty of alliance. That his country may b put upon a proper footing for these negotiations, he employs his pen in John Luzac s " Leyden Gazette," an organ of much service to America in the Revolution, and takes other means of disseminating correct information. That his articles might have more authority, he sent the communication to be first published in an English journal, that they might be thence trans ferred to the Dutch Gazette. He also drew up a series of replies to the inquiries of a gentleman of Holland touching American affairs, which have been often published, and which now appear in the collection of his writings with the title, "Twenty-six letters upon interesting subjects respecting the Re volution of America." The prospects 6 of a loan were broken up for a time by the war between Holland arid KIIL - land, in which an alleged alliance with America, which did not exist, was made the pretence of wanton aggres sion. But Adams, single-handed, per severed. He was presently reinforced by special authority from home, and had the satisfaction at last, not only of procuring a valuable loan, but of secur ing the recognition of his country by Holland as an independent power. This treaty of alliance was completed in October, 1782. In the month following the conclu- O sion of the negotiations in Holland, Adams, with Jay and Franklin, signed, at Paris, the preliminary articles of peace with England. He shared with Jay his suspicions of Vergennes ; and Franklin, being led by their convic tions, the responsibility was taken of carrying on the negotiation independ ently of France, and even contrary to the orders of Congress. The definitive treaty was not signed till the next September. When Adams had put his signature to this important instrument, he immediately set out for England to regain his health, which had been much impaired by his confinement and labors and a recent severe illness. His visit at this time was unofficial. lie appears to have enjoyed with his usual zest the sights of the .metropolis, in procuring admission to which he found his coun tryman, Benjamin West, as influential as a prime minister. In the lobby of the House of Lords he had the gratifica tion of hearing the gentleman usher of the black rod "roar out with a very loud voice, where is Mr. Adams, Lord 42 JOHN ADAMS. Mansfield s friend ?" The painter, West, remembering the denunciations of Mur ray against his country in that same House of Lords, said to Adams, " this is one of the finest finishings in the picture of American Independence." His next diplomatic employment was as a commissioner with Franklin and Jefferson, to negotiate treaties of peace with the European nations. These engagements abroad having now assumed something of a permanent cha racter, he was joined by Mrs. Adams, whom he hastened from the Conti nent, on her arrival in England, to con duct to his residence at Auteuil, in the suburb of Paris, in the summer of 1*784. In February, 1785, Congress appoints John Adams the first American minister to Great Britain, and in May he is in stalled in the English capital. Friendly as his reception by the king appears to have been, it was not followed by a fair reciprocity towards America. Peace had indeed been made, and the minister received, but Congress was honored by no British representative calling at her doors. The relations of the two countries were in fact yet of the most unsettled character; questions of commercial intercourse, of a restric tive nature, were pressed against the Americans ; the western posts were re tained ; on the other hand, the unsettled relations of the States to one another at home, were at variance with a just and dignified foreign policy. After weather ing for awhile these disheartening con ditions, Adams, having rendered such services as he could to his country in a new loan negotiation with Holland and conferences with his fellow-commis sioner, Jefferson, at Paris, tired of the ineffectual struggle with difficulties and against prejudice, at the close of 1787, requested his recall. His time, how ever, had not been altogether taken up with these foreign affairs. His famous work, the " Defence of the Constitutions of Government of the United States of America," was produced at this period. It grew out of some remarks by the French philosopher, Turgot, on the Constitutions of the State in which the adoption of English usages was objected to, and preference given to a single authority of the nation or assembly over a balanced system of powers. Adams extended the work to three volumes, in which he brought to bear upon the subject a vast amount of political reading, particularly in refer ence to the Italian Republics. The effect of this long discussion, like that of its sequel, the Discourses on Davila, is much weakened by its form, for Adams, with much spirit as a writer, is defective in his longer works in manner and method. If his style of writing had been formed iu early life, like that of Franklin and Madison, upon the reading of the Spectator instead of the declamations of Bolingbroke, in so far as study can modify the genius of a man, his works would have been better for the training. John Adams loses as much as Franklin gains by his way of putting a thing in his writings. The spring of 1788 restored him again to his native land. It was the period of the adoption of the Federal Constitution, and when that instrument went fully into effect in the meeting of the first Congress at New York, he was JOHN ADAMS. 43 found to be chosen Vice-President, re ceiving the greatest number of votes of the electors next to Washington. He received thirty-four out of sixty-nine, the vote of Washington being unani mous. He held this office, presiding in the Senate, during both terms of Wash ington s administration, to which he O gave active and often important assist ance. In IT 9 7, he succeeded to the Presidency by a vote of seventy-one over the sixty-eight of Jefferson. He found the country in imminent danger of a conflict with France. The prin ciples of an English or French alliance" were the tests of the party politics of the times. Jay s Treaty, sanctioning the neutrality policy of Washington, had indeed been adopted by Congress, but after a struggle which left many elements of opposition. The full force of these was directed against the Federal party, of which Adams was now the official representative. He was destined to receive aid, however, from an unexpected quarter. The as sumptions and aggressions of the French Directory, on the arrival of Marshall and Gerry, as negotiators, developed a new phase of villainy in a contemptuous effort to bribe the Ame rican Commissioners. This insult at length opened the eyes and roused the spirit of the nation. Adams was for awhile exceedingly popular ; addresses were poured in upon him, the countiy armed, commissioned a navy, Washing ton was again called into the field, and with Hamilton at his side, arranged means of military defence. Thus far he was with the strong anti-Gallican Federal party. He was thought, how ever, to fall off from it in some of his measures for reconciliation with France, which, however, by the .turn which placed Napoleon in authority, had a successful issue; some of the acts of his administration, as the Alien and Sedi tion laws, were powerful instruments with an unscrupulous opposition, and he had, moreover, to bear the disaffec tion of Hamilton. There was little liberality or charity for defects of taste and temper. The embarrassments aris ing from these things clouded his O O administration, which closed with a single term, and the obstinate struggle which resulted in the election of Jeffer son. A private affliction, in the loss of his second son, Charles, came also at this moment, to darken the shades of his retirement. He had no heart to witness the inauguration of his suc cessor, and left Washington abruptly for Quincy. His biographer tells us, as an index of his privacy, that while the year before his letters could be counted by thousands, those of his first year after were scarcely a hundred^ Like Jay s protracted age at Bedford, his was a long retirement, but Adams had not in his disposition the quietude of Jay. The restlessness, the activity of pursuit which had driven the poor New Eng land boy to the thrones of monarchs, and had seated him in the Presidency of the Republic, was not to subside without a murmur. The old statesman enjoyed a vicarious public life in the rapid advancement of his son in the councils of his country to the Presi dency; the irritations of controversy lent their aid to agitate the torpor of 44 JOHN ADAMS. political neglect, in the series of letters vindicating his course, which he pub lished in the "Boston Patriot;" while he occasionally revived for himself and the eye of posterity, past scenes of his history in an Autobiography. In 1 8 1 8, in his eighty-third year, his wife, his " dearest friend," the gentle and ac complished, one of the mothers of America, full of the sweetest and grand est memories of the past, was taken from him. His last public service was in occasional attendance at the Conven tion of Massachusetts for the formation of a new Constitution, when he was eighty-five. He was not able to say, but he made his wish known, that the new instrument should express perfect religious tolerance. It was the liberal creed of his youth ; it had been grow ing stronger with his age. Returning to his early friendship, he corresponded with Jefferson. The two venerable fathers of the Republic, Jefferson at the age of eighty-three, John Adams at that of ninety, died together on the birthday of the nation, July 4th, 1826. A few days before his death, the orator of his native town of Quincy, where he lay in his home, called upon Adams for a toast, to be presented at the approach ing anniversary. "Independence for ever !" was the reply. As the senti ment was delivered at the banquet, amidst ringing plaudits, the soul of the dying patriot was passing from earth to eternity. We have brought the long and busy life to a close, from boyhood to four score and ten. A nation has been born in that time, and one of its founders, after reaching its summit of authority, has seen his son at its head. We have the fullest revelations of this man. It was his passion not only to be em ployed in great events, but to write down the least of himself. We have his books, learned tomes, his official and personal Correspondence, his Reminis cences, his Diary, his Autobiography, the domestic letters of his wife. He was bent upon declaring himself in every form. What is the impression ? Upon the whole, of a man of active conscientious mind, employed from youth in study and thought ; diligent in affairs ; lacking some of the judicious arts of the writer and statesman, which might have better set off his fair fame with the world. The formative period of his life, his early professional train ing, has a better lesson for the youth of his country than that of Franklin, for it has fewer errata. Egotism is sometimes apparent, but it led him to know as well as proclaim himself. His sensibility may occasionally be taken for vanity, but it is oftener the indica tion of true feeling. Had he been more cautious, he might have possessed less heart. He had his weaknesses. He was passionate, we are told, but forgiving ; serious in manner, but capa ble of genial relaxation; of a disposition answering to his frame and look, with more of solidity than elevation ; some thing of the sensual, relieved by a touch of humor, about him ; nothing of the idealist : a broad, capacious head, capa ble of assertion and action. THOMAS JEFFERSON. IN his Autobiography, written to wards the close of his life, the author of the Declaration of Independence, thinking doubtless his new political career a better passport to fame with posterity than any conditions of an cestry in the old society which he had superseded, while he could not be in sensible to the worth of a respectable family history, says of the Randolphs, from whom he was descended on the mother s side, "they trace their pedi gree far back in England and Scotland, to which let every one ascribe the faith and merit he chooses." Whatever value may be set by his biographers upon an ancient lineage, they cannot overlook the fact most important in its influence upon his future history that he was introduced by his family relationships at birth into a sphere of life iii Virginia, which gave him many social advantages. The leveller of the old aristocracy was by no means a self- made man of the people, struggling up ward through difficulty and adversity. His father, Peter Jefferson, belonged to a family originally from Wales, which had been among the first settlers of the colony. In 1619, one of the name was seated in the Assembly at Jamestown, the first legislative body of Europeans, it is said, that ever met in the New World. The particular account of the family begins with the grandfather of Thomas Jefferson, who owned some lands in Chesterfield County. His third son, Peter, established himself as a planter on certain lands which he had " patented," or come into possession of by purchase, in Albemarle County, in the vicinity of Carter s Mountain, where the Rivanua makes its way through the Range ; and about the time of his settlement married Jane, daughter of Isham Randolph, of Dungeness, in Goochland County, of the eminent old Virginia race, to which allusion has already been made, a stock which has extended its branches through every department of worth and, excellence in the State. Isham Randolph was a man of talent and education, as veil as noted for the hospitality practised by every gentleman of his wealthy posi tion. His memory is gratefully pre served in the correspondence of the naturalists, Collinson and Bartrarn. * The latter was commended to his care in one of his scientific tours, and en joyed his hearty welcome. His daugh ter, Jane, we are told, "possessed a most amiable and affectionate disposi tion, a lively, cheerful temper, and a great fund of humor," qualities which ha<l their influence tipon her son : s char- 45 46 THOMAS JEFFERSON. acter. Her marriage to Peter Jefferson took place at the age of nineteen, and the fruit of this union, the third child and first son, was Thomas, the subject of this sketch. He was born at the new family location at Shadwell, April 2 (old style), 4743^ Peter Jefferson, the father, was a model man for a frontier settlement, tall in stature, of extraordinary strength of body, capable of enduring any fatigue in the wilderness, with cor responding health and vigor of mind. He was educated as a surveyor, and in this capacity engaged in a govern ment commission to draw the boundary line between Virginia and North Caro lina. Two years before his death, which occurred suddenly in his fiftieth year, in 175*7, he was chosen a member of the House of Burgesses. His son was then only fourteen, but he had already derived many impressions from the instructions and example of his father, and considerable resemblance is traced between them. Mr. Randall, in his biography, notices the inheritance of physical strength, of a certain plain ness of manners, and honest love of independence, even of a fondness for reading for the stalwart surveyor was accustomed to solace his leisure with his Spectator and his Shakspeare. The son was early sent to school, and, before his father s death, was instructed in the elements of Greek, and Latin, and French, by Mr. Douglass, a Scottish clergyman. It was his parent s dying wish that he should receive a good classical education ; and the seed prov ed to be sown in a good soil. The les sons which the youth had already re ceived, were resumed under the excel lent instruction of the Rev. James Maury, at his residence, and thence, in 1760, the pupil passed to William and Mary College. He was now in his eighteenth year, a tall, thin youth, of a ruddy complexion, his hair inclining to red, an adept in manly and rural sports, a good dancer, something of a musician, full of vivacity. It is worth noticing, that the youth of Jefferson was of a hearty, joyous character. Williamsburg, also, the seat of the college, was then anything but a scho lastic hermitage for the mortification of youth. In winter, during the session of the court and the sittings of the colonial legislature, it was the focus of provincial fashion and gaiety ; and between study and dissipation the ardent young Jefferson had before him the old problem of good and evil not always leading to the choice of virtue. It is to the credit" of his manly percep tions and healthy tastes, even then, that while he freely partook of the amusements incidental to his station and time of life, he kept his eye stead ily on loftier things. " It was my great good fortune," he says in his Autobio graphy, " and what probably fixed the destinies of my life, that Dr. William Small, of Scotland, was then professor of mathematics, a man profound in most of the useful branches of science, with a happy talent of communication, correct and gentlemanly manners, and an enlarged and liberal mind." His instructions, communicated not only in college hours, but in familiar personal intimacy, warmed the young student with his first, as it became his constant, THOMAS JEFFERSON. passion for natural science. This happy instructor also gave a course of lec tures in ethics and rhetoric, which were doubtless equally profitable to his young pupil in the opening of his mind to knowledge. He had also an especial fondness for mathematics, " reading off its processes with the facility of common discourse." lie sometimes studied, in his second year, fifteen hours a day, taking exercise in a brisk walk of a mile at evening. Jefferson was only two years at college, but his education was happily continued in his immediate entrance upon the study of the law with George Wythe, the memorable chancellor of Virginia, of after days, to whom he was introduced by Dr. Small, and of whose personal qualities his temper ance and suavity, his logic and elo quence, his disinterested public virtue he wrote a worthy eulogium. The same learned friend also made him acquainted with Governor Fauquier, then in authority, " the ablest man," says Jefferson, " who ever filled the office." At his courtly table the four met together in familiar and liberal conversation. It was a privilege to the youth of the first importance, bringing him, at the outset, into a sphere of public life which he was destined afterwards, in Europe and America, so greatly to adorn. He passed five years in the study of the law at "VVilliamsburg, and, without intermitting his studies, at his home at Shadwell. Nor, diligent as he was, is it to be supposed that his time was altogether spent in study. He yet found leisure, as his early telltale cor respondence with his friend Page, after wards Governor of Virginia, shows, to harbor a fond attachment for a fair " Belinda," as he called her, reversing the letters of the name and writing them in Greek, or playing upon the word in Latin. The character of the young lady, Miss Rebecca Burwell, of an excellent family, does credit to his attachment, for it was marked by its religious enthusiasm, but nothing came of it beyond a boyish disappointment. 1 In 1707 he was introduced to the bar of the General Court of Virginia by his friend Mr. Wythe, and imme diately entered on a successful career of practice, interrupted only by the Revolution. His memorandum books, which he kept minutely and diligently as Washington himself, show how extensively he was employed in these seven years; while the directions which he gave in later life to young students, exhibit a standard of application, which he had no doubt followed himself, of the utmost proficiency. His " sufficient groundwork " for the study of the law includes a liberal course of mathe matics, natural philosophy, ethics, rhet oric, politics, and history. His pur suit of the science itself ascended to the antique founts of the profes sion. He was a well-trained, skill- ful lawyer, an adept in the casuis- tiyof Tegal questions more distin guished, however, for his ability in 1 Mr. John Esten Cooke, of Virginia, author of the eminently judicious biography of Jefferson in Appleton s new Cyclopaedia, has sketched this love affair In R plea sant paper on the " Early years of Thomas Jefferson." The "Fnge" correspondence U printed in Professor Tucker s life of Jefferson. 48 THOMAS JEFFERSON. argument than for his power as an advocate. He was throughout life little_qf^ an orator, and we shall find him hereafter, in scenes where elo quence was peculiarly felt, more power ful in the committee room than in debate. His first entrance on political life was at the age of twenty-six, in 1Y69, when he was sent to the House of Burgesses from the county of Albe- maiie, the entrance on a troublous time in the consideration of national griev ances, and we find him engaged at once in preparing the resolutions and address to the governor s message. The House, in reply to the recent declarations of Parliament, reasserted the American principles of taxation and petition, and other questions in jeopardy, and, in consequence, was promptly dissolved by Lord Botetourt. The members, the next day, George Washington among them, met at the Raleigh tavern, and pledged themselves to a non-importa tion agreement. The next year, on the conflagration of the house at Shadwell, where he had his home with his mother, he took up his residence at the adjacent "Monti- cello," also on his own paternal grounds, in a portion of the edifice so famous afterwards as the dwelling-place of his maturer years. Unhappily, many of his early papers, his books and those of his father, were burnt in the destruc tion of his old home. In 17*72, on New Year s Day, he took a step farther in domestic life, in marriage with Mrs. Martha Skelton, a widow of twenty- three, of much beauty and many win ning accomplishments, the daughter of John Wayles, a lawyer of skill and many good qualities, at whose death, the following year, the pair came into possession of a considerable property. In this circumstance, and in the manage ment of his landed estate, we may trace a certain resemblance in the for tunes of the occupants of Monticello and Mount Vernon. Political affairs were now again call ing for legislative attention. The re newed claim of the British to send persons for state offences to England, brought forward in Rhode Island, awakened a strong feeling of resistance among the Virginia delegates, a portion of whom, including Jefferson, met at the Raleigh Tavern, and drew up reso lutions creating a Committee of Corre spondence to watch the proceedings of Parliament, and keep up a communica tion with the Colonies. Jefferson was appointed to offer the resolutions in the House, but declined in favor of his brother-in-law, Dabney Carr. They were passed, and a committee all notable men of the Revolution was appointed, including Peyton Randolph, Richard Henry Lee, Patrick Henry, and others, ending with Thomas Jefferson. The Earl of Dunmore then, following the example of his predecessor, dis solved the House. We may here pause, with Mr. Jeffer son s latest biographer, to notice the friendship of Jefferson with Carr. It belonged to their school-boy days, and had gained strength during their period of legal study, when they had kept company together in the shades of Monticello, and made nature the com panion of their thoughts. They had THOMAS JEFFERSON. 49 their favorite rustic seat there beneath an oak, and there, each promised the other he would bury the survivor. The time soon came, a month after tin 1 scene at the Raleigh Tavern wo have just narrated, when Carr, at the age of thirty, was fatally stricken by fever. The friends now rest together in the spot where their youthful summer days weiv passed. Carr had been eight years married to Jefferson s sister, and he left her with a family of six children. His brother-in-law took them all to his home. The sons, Peter and Dabney, who rose high in the Virginia judiciary, have an honored place in the Jefferson Correspondence, calling forth many of the statesmen s best letters. The whole family was educated and provided for 1>\ him; and here again, in these adopted children, we may recognize a resemblance to Mount Vernon with its young Custises. The new Legislature met, as usual, the next year, and, roused by the pas sage of the Boston Port Bill, a few members, pays Jefferson, including Henry and himself, resolved to place the Assembly " in the line with Massa chusetts." The expedient they hit upon was a fast day, which, by the help of some old Puritan precedents, they " cooked up " and placed in the hands of a grave member to lay before the House. It was passed, and the Gover nor, "as usual," dissolved the Assembly. The fast was appointed for the first of June, the day on which the obnoxious bill was to take effect, and there was one man in Virginia, at least, who kept it. We may read in the Diary of George Washington, of that date, 7 " Went to church, and farted all day." 1 The dissolved Assembly again met at the Raleigh, and decided upon a Convention, to be elected by the people of the several counties, and held at Williamsburg, so that two bodies had to be chosen, one to assemble in the new House of Burgesses, the other out of the reach of government control. The same members, those of the pre vious House, were sent for both. Jef ferson again represented the freeholders of Albemarle. The instructions which the county gave, supposed from his pen, assert the radical doctrine of the inde*- pendence of the Colonial Legislatures, as the sole fount of authority in new laws. The Williamsburg Convention met and appointed delegates to the first General Congress. Jefferson was detained from the Assembly by illness, but he forwarded a draught of instruc- o tions for the delegates, which was not adopted, but ordered to be printed by the members. It bore the title, " A Summary View of the Rights of British America," reached England, was taken up by the opposition, and, with some interpolations from Burke, passed through several editions. 9 Though in 1 Mrs. Kirkland a Memoirs of Washington, p. 220. * The pamphlet took the ground, that the relation be tween Great Britain and her Colonies was exactly the same as that of England and Scotland after the ac< of James, and until the Union, or as Uanover then stood, linked only by the crown. An illustrate >lrawn from the Saxon settlement of Britain, " that mother coun try " never having asserted any claim of authority over her emigrants. The trading and manufacturing repres sions of England in particular were dwelt upon, with other pertinent topics of reform. The whole was ex pressed in terse and pointed language. lie would remind i George III. that " Kings are the servants not the propri- 50 THOMAS JEFFERSON". advance of the judgment of the people, who are slow in coming up to the prin ciples of great reforms, this " View " undoubtedly assisted to form, that judgment. But so slow was the pro gress of opinion at the outset, that, at the moment when this paper was writ ten, only a few leaders, such as Samuel Adams and Patrick Henry, were capa ble of appreciating it. A few years afterwards, and it would have been ac cepted as a truism. The country was not yet ready to receive its virtual Decla ration of Independence. The people had to be pricked on by further out rages. Theoretical rebellion they had no eye for ; they must feel to be con vinced. Jefferson s paper was in ad vance of them, by the boldness of its historical positions, and the plainness of its language to His Majesty yet its array of grievances must have enlight ened many minds. The Congress of 17 74 met but adopt ed milder forms of petition, better adapted to the moderation of their sentiments. Meanwhile committees of safety are organizing in Virginia, and Jefferson heads the list in his county. He is also in the second Virginia Convention at Richmond, listening to Patrick Henry s ardent appeal to the God of Battles "I repeat it, sir, we must fight!" The Assembly adopted the view so far as preparing means of defence, and that the students of events in Massachusetts began to think meant war. The delegates to the first Con gress were elected to the second, and etors of the people." " The whole art of government," he maintains, " consists in the art of being honest." in case Peyton Randolph should be called to preside over the House of Burgesses, Thomas Jefferson was to be his successor at Philadelphia. The House met, Randolph was elected, and Jefferson departed to fill his place, bear ing with him to Congress the spirited Resolutions of the Assembly, which he had written and driven through, in reply to the conciliatory propositions of Lord North. It was a characteristic introduction, immediately followed up by his appointment on the committee charged to prepare a declaration of the causes of taking up arms, Congress having just chosen Washington Com- mander-in-Chief of a national army. He was associated in this task with John Dickinson, to whose timidity and caution, respected as they were by his fellow members, he deferred in the report, in which, however, a few ring ing sentences of Jefferson are readily distinguishable, among them the famous watchwords of political struggle " Our cause is just ; our union is perfect." " With hearts," the document proceeds, "fortified with these animating affec tions, we most solemnly, before God and the world, declare, that, exerting the utmost energy of those powers which our beneficent Creator hath gra ciously bestowed upon us, the arms which we have been compelled by our enemies to assume, we will, in defiance of every hazard, with unabated firm ness and perseverance, employ for the preservation of our liberties, being with one mind resolved to die freemen rather than to live slaves." This was the era of masterly state papers ; and talent in composition was THOMAS JEFFERSON. in demand. The reputation <>t JelVer- Bon in this line bad preceded him, in the al.ility of bis "Summary View," presented to the Virginia Convention, ;ind was confirmed by bis presence. Nearly a year passed a \ car commenc ing with Lexington and Bunker Hill, and including the military scenes of Washington s command around Huston. O 9 before Congress was fully ready to pro nounce its final Declaration of Inde pendence. When the time came, Jef ferson was again a member of that body. The famous Resolutions of In dependence, in accordance with pre vious instructions from Virginia, were moved by Richard Henry Lee, on the seventh of June. They were debated in committee of the whole, and pending the deliberations, not to lose time, a special committee was appointed by ballot on the eleventh, to prepare a Declaration of Independence. Jeffer son had the highest vote, and stood at the bead of the committee, witb John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Roger Sher man, and Robert R. Livingston. The preparation of the instrument was en trusted to Jefferson. " The committee desired me to do it, it was accordingly done," says bis Autobiography. The draft tbus prepared, with a few verbal CQirections from Franklin and Adams, was submitted to the House on the twenty-eighth. On the second of July, it was taken up in debate, and ear nestly battled for three days, when on tbe evening of tbe last the ever- memorable fourtb of July it was finally reported, agreed to, and signed by every member except Mr. Dickinson. Some alterations were made in the 61 original draft a phrase, here and there, which M-emed superfluous was lupprd oil ; the Kiii j; of Great Britain \va> spared some additional severities, and a stirring passage arraigning his Majesty for his complicity in the slave trade then carried on, a "piratical warfare, the opprobrium of infidel powers," was entirely exscinded the denunciation being thought to strike at home as well as abroad. The people of England were also relieved of tbe censure cast upon them for electing tyrannical Par liaments. With these omissions, the paper stands substantially as first re ported by Jefferson. It is intimately related to his previous resolutions and reports in Virginia and Congress, and whatever merit may be attached to it, alike in its spirit and language, belongs to him. Mr. Jefferson was elected to the next session of Congress ; but, pleading the state of his family affairs, and desirous of taking part in the formative mea sures of government now arising in Virginia, be was permitted to resign. He declined, also, immediately after, an appointment by Congress as fellow- minister to France with Dr. Franklin. In October, he took his seat in the Vir ginia House of Delegates, and com menced those efforts of reform with which his name will always be identi fied in his native State, and which did not end till its social condition was thoroughly revolutionized. His first great blow was the introduction of a bill abolishing entails, which, with one subsequently brought in, cutting off the right of primogeniture, levelled the great landed aristocracy which had 52 THOMAS JEFFERSON. hitherto governed in the country. He was also, about the time of the passage of this act, created one of the committee for the general revision of the laws, his active associates being Edmund Pen- dleton and George Wythe. This vast work was not completed by the com mittee till June, 1779, an interval of more than two years. Among the one hundred and sixteen new bills reported, perhaps the most important was one, the work of Jefferson, that for Esta blishing Religious Freedom, which abolished tythes, and left all men free " to profess, and by argument to main tain, their opinions in matters of reli gion, and that the same shall in no wise diminish, enlarge, or affect their civil capacities." A concurrent act provided for the preservation of the glebe lands to church members. Jefferson was not, therefore, in this instance the originator of the after spoliation of the ecclesiasti cal property. Of this matter Mr. Ran dall says : " Whether Mr. Jefferson changed his mind, and kept up with the demands of popular feeling in that particular, we have no means of know ing. We remember no utterance of his on that subject, after reporting the bills we have described." 1 Another impor tant subject fell to his charge in the statutes affecting education. He pro posed a system of free common school education, planned in the minutest de tails ; a method of reorganization for William and Mary College, and pro vision for a free State Library. There was also a bill limiting the death pen alty to murder and treason. In his 1 Life of Jefferson, I. 222. account of the reception of this " Re vision," Mr. Jefferson records : " Some bills were taken out, occasionally, from time to time, and passed ; but the main body of the work was not entered on by the Legislature until after the gene ral peace, in 1-785, when, by the un wearied exertions of Mr. Madison, in opposition to the endless quibbles, chicaneries, perversions, vexations, and delays of lawyers and demi-lawyers, most of the bills were passed by the Legislature, with little alteration." In 1779, Mr. Jefferson succeeded Patrick Henry as Governor of Virginia, falling upon a period of administration requiring the military defenpe of the State, less suited to his talents than the reforming legislation in which he had been recently engaged. Indeed, he modestly confesses this in the few words he devotes to the subject in his Auto biography, where he says, referring to history for this portion of his career : " From a belief that, under the pressure of the invasion under which we were then laboring, the public would have more confidence in a military chief, and that the military commander, being invested with the civil power also, both might be wielded with more energy, promptitude and effect for the defence of the State, I resigned the administra- / O tion at the end of my second year, and General Nelson was appointed to suc ceed me." Hig disposition to the arts of peace, in mitigation of the calamities of war, had been previously shown in his treatment of the Saratoga prisoner? of war, who were quartered in his neighborhood, near Charlottesville. O He added to the comforts of the men, THOMAS JEFFERSON. 63 an<l entertained the officers at his table, and when it was proposed to remove them to less advantageous quarters, lie remonstrated with Governor Henry in their favor. The early part of Jcller- BOH S administration was occupied with various duties connected with the war, and it was only at the end, in the inva sions by Arnold and Phillips, in 1780, that lie frit its pressure. When Rich mond was invaded and plundered, he was obliged to reconnoitre the attack, in his movements about the vicinity, \vithout ability of resistance. The finances and resources of defence of the State were in the most lamentable con dition, and it remains a question for the historian to conjecture what degree of military energy, in a Governor, would have been effectual to create an army on the spur of the moment, and extort means for its support. The depreda tions of Arnold continued till the arri val of Cornwallis, and before his exit iVoin the scene of these operations at Yorktown, an incident occurred which has been sometimes told to Jefferson s disadvantage, though without any ap parent reason. The famous Colonel Turleton, celebrated for the rapidity of his movements, was dispatched to secure the members of the Legislature, then assembled at Charlottesville. Warning was given, and the honorable gentlemen escaped, wlien it was pro posed to capture the Governor at his hboring residence at Monticello. He however, also had intelligence, per ceiving the approach of the enemy from his mountain height, and sending his wife and children in advance to a place of safety, rode off himself as the troopers approached to Carter s Moun tain. At this time his term of service as Governor had expired a few d.;\ <. Happily, the officer who thus visited his house was a gentleman, and his papers, books, and other property, were spared. His estate at Elk Hill, on James River, did not fare so well. Its crops were destroyed, its stock taken, and the slaves driven off to perish, almost to a man, of fever and suffering in the British camp. Losses like these he could bear with equanimity ; not so the inquiry which received some countenance from the legislature into his conduct during the invasion. He was grieved that such an implied censure should be even thought of, and prepared himself to meet it in person ; but when he pre sented himself at the next session, con senting to an election for the express purpose, there was no one to oppose him, and resolutions of respect and con fidence took the place of the threatened attack. He had another cause of despondence at this time, which no act of the legislature could cure. His wife, to whom he was always tenderly at tached, was daily growing more feeble in health, and gradually approaching her grave. She died in September, 1782 "torn from him by death," is the expressive language he placed on her simple monument. The illness of his wife had prevented his acceptance of an appointment in Europe, to negotiate terms of peace immediately after the termination of his duties as governor. A similar office was now ti-nd -red him the third prof fer of the kind by Congress and, look 54 THOMAS JEFFERSON. ing upon it as a relief to his distracted mind as well as a duty to the State, he accepted it. Before, however, the pre parations for his departure were com plete, arising from the difficulties then existing of crossing the ocean, intelli gence was received of the progress of the peace negotiations, and the voyage was abandoned. He was then returned to . Congress, taking his seat in November, 1783, at Trenton, the day of the adjournment to Annapolis, where one of his first duties, the following month, was as chairman O of the Committee which provided the arrangements for the reception of Wash ington on his resignation of his com mand. The ceremony took place in public, " the representatives of the sovereignty of the Union" remaining seated and covered while the company in the gallery were standing and un covered. After Washington s address and delivery of his commission, the President replied in an answer attri buted to Jefferson. 1 Eulogy of Wash ington always fell happily from his pen. " Having defended the standard of liberty in this new world," was one of its sentences ; " having taught a lesson useful to those who inflict and those who feel oppression, you retire from the great theatre of action with the blessings of your fellow-citizens: but the glory of your virtues will not terminate with your military com mand; it will continue to animate re motest ages." Jefferson was accustomed to speak of Washington with eloquence and admiration, suffering no political 1 Randall s Life of Jefferson, I. S92. disagreements to diminish his historic greatness. Probably the best character ever drawn of the Father of his Country, was written by him, in a letter from Monticello, addressed to Dr. Walter Jones, in 1814. The presence of Jefferson in any legislative body was always soon felt, and we accordingly find him in the Congress of 1784, making his mark in the debates on the ratification of the treaty of peace, his suggestions on the establishment of a money unit and a national coinage, which were subse quently adopted he gave us the deci mal system and the denomination of the cent ; the cession of the North western Territory by Virginia, with his report for its government, proposing names for its new States, and the ex clusion of slavery after the year 1800: and taking an active part in the ar rangements for commercial treaties with foreign nations. In the last, he was O . destined to be an actor as well as designer Congress, on the seventh of O o I May, appointing him to act in Europe with Adams and Franklin, in accom plishing these negotiations. This time he was enabled to enter upon the scene abroad, which had always invited his imagination by its prospects of new observations in art and science, society and government, and intimacy with learned and distinguished men. A visit to Europe to an ordinary Ameri can in those days, was like passing from a school to a university ; but Jefferson, though he found the means of know ledge unfailing wherever he went, being no ordinary man but a very extraordi nary one, carried with him to Europe THOMAS JEFFERSON. 65 more than lie could receive there. In tin- science of government lie was the instructor of tlie most learned ; and, in tliat matter, the relations of the old world and the new were reversed. America, even then, with much to learn before her system was perfected, was the educator of Europe. Jefferson took with him his oldest daughter, Martha his family consist ing, since the, death of his wife, of three youn- 1 daughters and the adopted children of his friend, Carr with whom he reached Paris, by the way of England, in August. There he found Dr. Franklin, with whom he entered on the duties of his mission, and whose friendship he experienced in an introduction to the brilliant philosophi cal society of the capital. His position, also, at the outset, was much strenoih- 11 O ened with these savans by a small edition which he printed and privately circulated of his " Notes on Virginia." This work had for some time existed in manuscript, having been written in Virginia, in 1781, during a period of confinement, when he was disabled from active exertion in consequence of a fall from his horse, in reply to certain queries which had been addressed to him by the French minister, M. Marbois, who had been instructed by his govern ment to procure various statistical in formation in regard to the country. As it had al \vays been a custom of Jeffer son to note everything that came to his knowledge relating to topics of national welfare, it was an easy task to supply the required answers from his note books. In this way, the " Notes " were written and commun; -a ! t> the minister; and, as these queries we?v of constant recurrence, relating, as they did, to a new state of things whieh provoked inquiry, the author kept a copy of the replies for his own use and for that of his friends. He would have printed the little work in America, but was deterred by the expense. Finding this could be done at a fourth of the cost in Paris, he now carried the inten tion out. The volume was carefully distributed the writer thinking its opinions on the subject of slavery and of the American Constitution might irritate the minds of his countrymen but a year or two later, a copy, on the death of its owner, got into the hands of a bookseller, who caused it to be hastily translated by the Abbe* Morel- let, into French, and in this state sent it to Jefferson on the eve of publica tion. He could correct only its worst blunders, and the work being now before the world, he thought it but an act of justice to himself to yield to the request of a London publisher, to issue the original. This is the history of the famous " Notes on Virginia." The book itself, as a valuable original contribu tion to the knowledge of an interesting portion of the country, at a transition period, has been always treasured. Its observations on natural history, and de scriptions of scenery, are of value ; it has much which would now be called ethnological, particularly in reference to the Indian and the black man; while, in style and treatment, it may be studied as a suggestive index of the mind and tastes of the author. In the summer of 1785, Dr. Frank lin took his departure homeward, retir- 56 THOMAS JEFFERSON. ing from the embassy lie had so long and honorably filled, and Jefferson remained as his successor. lie was four years in this position, covering the important opening era of the Revolu tion, including the assembly of the States General, of all the movements connected with which he was a diligent observer and friendly sympathizer with the reformers. His official duties embraced various regulations of trade and commerce, the admission of Ameri can products into France on favorable terms ; a fruitless attempt with Adams at negotiations with England, which left an unfavorable impression of the mother country on his mind, and the consideration^ the Barbary question, for which he proposed, as a remedy to the constant aggressions, active naval OO coercion. His private correspondence,, during this residence abroad, is of the most interesting character. It is not merely well written, with the accuracy of a mind accustomed to reflection, but its topics have, for the most part, an historic value. It is in turn political, scientific, philosophical, or moral, as it is addressed to Washington, Jay, Madi son, with whom he keeps up his ideas on American state developments ; John Adams ; the astronomer Eittenhouse ; the ingenious Francis Hopkinson; his nephew, Peter Carr; or his lady friends, Mrs, Cosway, and Mrs. Binghani. To Carr, he lays down a code of precepts, in which we may read the reflection of his own life. " Give up money, give up fame," he writes, "give up science, give up the earth itself and all it con tains, rather than do an immoral act. . . . An honest heart being the first blessing, a knowing head is the second. . . . A strong body makes the mind strong." A tour which he performed in the provinces of France, and which was extended into northern Italy, was made as subservient to his friends as to his own interest. It was his humor on this journey to study the ways and habits of the common people, and he took as great delight in rambling through the fields with the peasantry and inspecting their cottages, as in visiting palaces and churches. He advised Lafayette to travel in his path, "and to do it effectually," he wrote, " you must be absolutely incognito; you must ferret the people out of their hovels, as I have done, look into their kettles, eat their bread, loll on their beds, under pretence of resting your self, but in fact to find if they are soft. You will feel a sublime pleasure in the course of this investigation, and a sub- Inner one hereafter, when you shall be able to apply your knowledge to the softening of their beds, or the throwing a morsel of meat into their kettle of vegetables." Tho ivtiirn of Jefferson to the United States in the autumn of IT 8 9, grew out of his desire to restore his daughters a second one had joined him in Europe, the third died during his absence to education in America, and to look after his private affairs, A leave of absence was accordingly granted him, with the expectation of a return to the French capital. Before reaching home, he found a letter from President Washington awaiting him, tendering him the office of Secretary of State in the new govern- THOMAS JEFFERSON. 57 ment. The proposition was received \vith manifest reluctance, but with a candid reference to the will of the Presi dent. The latter smoothed the way, by representing the duties of the office as less laborious than had been con ceived, and it was accepted. At the end of March, 1790, he joined the other members of the administration at New York. Then began that separa tion in politics, which, gradually rising to the dignity of party organization, became known as Federalism and Re- pajjlkaiikni. At the present day, it is difficult to appreciate the state of Jef ferson s mind towards Hamilton and other members of the administration ; his distrust of their movements, and apparently fixed belief that some mon archical designs were entertained by them. If there were any offenders in this way, they were Hamilton and Jay; but it is difficult to credit that either of them entertained any serious inten tions of the kind, however naturally they might distrust theories of self- government. In fact, there were " fears of the brave," if not "follies of the wise," on both sides. Each party had much to learn, which experience in the practical working of the government only could teach. It was easy then to exaggerate trifles, as it is unprofitable now, in the face of broad results, to revive them. There was a practical question also before Congress, which seems to have affected the equani mity of Jefferson, that namely of the assumption of the State debts. Hamil ton was the advocate of this measure, which met with serious opposition. Jefferson was inclined to oppose it, as 8 an addition to the financial power of the Secretary of the Treasury; which rose in his eyes as an evil of still greater magnitude when Hamilton s proposi tion came up of a national bank. This institution, in his distrust of paper money, he considered a fountain of de moralization. To these causes of sepa ration in opinion was in no long time added the pregnant controversy of the good or evil, the wisdom or folly of the French Revolution, drawing with it a train of conduct at home, when the neutrality question became the subject of practical discussion. Jefferson is thought to have lent some support to the annoyances of the time under which Washington suffered, in his patronage of the poet Freneau, who irritated the President by sending him his news paper filled with attacks on the sup posed monarchical tendencies of the day. When the insolence, however, of Genet and his advocates reached its height, the case was so clear that Jeffer son employed himself in his office in the State Department in the most vigor ous protests and denunciation. What ever opinions he might entertain of men or measures, on a question of practical conduct, he regarded only the honor and welfare of his country. He retired at the end of 1793, with the friendship and respect of Washington unbroken. The public questions which arose during his secretaryship, which we have alluded to, though the noisiest on the page of history, are perhaps not the most significant of Jefferson s career. His services, in many laborious matters of investigation and negotiation, were constant ; with England, in regard to 58 THOMAS JEFFERSON. conditions of the treaty of peace; with Spain, in reference to her claims at the South, and the navigation of the Mis sissippi a question which he was so happily to bring to a termination in his Presidential administration ; at home, in his efforts for trade and com- merce, exhibited in his various indus trial reports. The simplicity of his retirement at Monticello has been questioned by those who have been accustomed to look upon the man too exclusively in the light of a politician ; but the evi dence brought forward by his latest biographer, Mr. Randall, shows that the passion, while it lasted, was genu ine. Jefferson, with all his coolness and external command, had a peculiar sensitiveness. In fact, it is only a super ficial view of his character which could overlook this element lying beneath. A speculative moralist must feel as well as think, and the world can no more get such reflections on life and conduct whatever we may think of their ab solute value as are thickly sown in his writings, without inner emotion, than fruit can be gathered without the delicate organization of the plant which bears it. Such grapes are not plucked from thorns. In Jefferson s heart there was a fund of sensibility, freely ex hibited in his private intercourse with his family. He was unwearied in the cares and solicitudes of his daughters, his adopted children, and their alli ances. In reading the letters which passed between them, the politician is forgotten: we see only the man and the father. Besides these pleasing anx ieties, he had the responsibilities and resources of several considerable plan tations; his five thousand acres about Monticello alone, as he managed them with their novel improvements and home manufacturing operations, afford ing occupation enough for a single mind. He had, too, his books and favorite studies in science and literature. There were, probably, few public men in the country who like him read the Greek dramatists in the original with pleasure. What wonder, then, that he honestly sought retirement from the labors and struggles of political life, becoming every day more embittered by the rising spirit of party? That the retirement was really such, we have the best proof in an incidental remark in one of his letters written in 1802 the recluse was at the time in the Presi dency to his daughter Maria, then married to Mr. Eppes. Fancying he saw in her a reluctance to society, he rebukes the feeling, adding, "I can speak from experience on this subject. From 1793 to 1*797, 1 remained closely at home, saw none but those who came there, and at length became very sen sible of the ill effect it had upon my own mind, and of its direct and irre sistible tendency to render me unfit for society and uneasy when necessarily eno-ao-ed in it. I felt enough of the o o effect of withdrawing from the world then, to see that it led to an anti-social and misanthropic state of mind, which severely punishes him who gives into it ; and it will be a lesson I shall never forget as to myself." But the law of Jef ferson s mind was activity, and it was no long time before he mingled again in the political arena. His first decided THOMAS JEFFERSON. 69 symptom of returning animation is found by his biographer in his subscrip tion, at the close of 1795, to "Bache s Aurora." lie was no longer content with "liis solitary Richmond news paper." After this, there is no more thorough "working politician" in the country than Thomas Jefferson. 1 It is not necessaiy here to trace his influence on every passing event. We may proceed rapidly to his reappear ance in public life as Vice-President in 1797, on the election of John Adams, soon followed by the storm of party, attendant upon the obnoxious measures of the President in the Alien and Sedition Laws, the rapid disintegration of the Federal party and the rise of the Republicans. Out of the stormy con flict, Jefferson, at the next election, was elevated to the Presidency. The vote stood seventy-three alike for himself and Bun*, and sixty-five and sixty-four respectively for Mr. Adams and Mr. Pinckney. As the Presidency was then given to the one who had the highest vote and the Vice-Presidency to the one next below him, neither beincr named O for the offices, this equality threw the election into the House of Representa tives. A close contest then ensued between Jefferson and Burr for the Presidency, which was protracted for six days and thirty-six ballotings, when 1 The close of his retirement was marked by an honor which he valued, his election as President of the American Philosophical Society. In his letter of acceptance, always mindful of his practical democracy, he wrote, " I feel no qualification for this distinguished post, but a sincere zeal for all the objects of our institution, and an ardent desire to we knowledge so disseminated through the mass of mankind, that it may at length reach the extremes of society, beggars and kings." the former was chosen by ten out of the sixteen votes of the States. His Inaugural Address was an ap peal for harmony. After a brief sketch in vivid language, of which no one had a better mastery, of the country, whose laws he was appointed to administer " a rising nation, spread over a wide and fruitful land, traversing all the seas with the rich productions of their industry, engaged in commerce with nations who feel power and forget right, advancing rapidly to destinies beyond the reach of mortal eye" he proceeded to assuage the agitations of party. " Every difference of opinion," he said, "is not a difference of prin ciple. We have called by different names brethren of the same principle. We are all Republicans we are all Federalists. If there be any among us who would wish to dissolve this Union, or to change its republican form, let them stand undisturbed as monuments of the safety with which error of opinion may be tolerated where reason is left free to combat it." One of the early measures of Jeffer son s administration, and the most im portant of his eight years of office, was the acquisition of Louisiana by pur chase from France. It was a work upon which he had peculiarly set his heart. From the first moment of hear ing that the territory was passing from Spain to France, he dropped all politi cal sympathy for the latter, and saw in her possession of the region only a pregnant source of war and hostility. Not content with the usual channel of diplomacy through the State depart ment, he wrote himself at once to Mr. 60 THOMAS JEFFERSON. Livingston, the minister in France, urging considerations of national policy not so much that the United States should hold the country, as that the European powers should relinquish it. From his own previous discussions with Spain, he understood the topic well, and his zeal was now equal to the occa sion. An active European nation of the first class in possession of the mouth of the Mississippi, was utterly inadmissible to his sagacious mind ; he saw and felt the fact in all its conse quences. The rapidity of his conclu sions, his patriotic insight were happily seconded by the necessities of Napoleon at the time, and Louisiana became an integral part of the Kepublic, with the least expenditure of money and political negotiation. The turn of European events had much to do with it but had the difficulty been prolonged, the prescience and energy of Jefferson would, there is every reason to believe, have been prepared to cope with the issue. The expedition of Lewis and Clarke, in exploration of the western territory, parallel with this new acqui sition, was planned by Jefferson, and must be placed to the credit, alike of his love of science and patriotic insight into the future of his country. The brilliant acts of the navy in the Medi terranean, in conflict with the Barbary powers, came also to swell the triumphs of the administration, and Jefferson, at the next Presidential election, was borne into office, spite of a vigorous opposition, by a vote of one hundred and sixty-two in the electoral college to fourteen given to Charles Cotesworth Pinckney. The main events of this second ad ministration were the trial of Burr for his alleged western conspiracy, in which the President took a deep interest in the prosecution, and the measures adopted against the naval aggressions of England, which culminated in the O famous " Embargo," by which the for eign trade of the country was annihi lated at a blow, that Great Britain might be reached in her commercial interests. The state of things was pe culiar. America had been grievously wronged in her unsettled relations with England, and not only assailed, but insulted in the attack on the Chesa peake and seizure of her men. "What was to be done ? The question was not ripe for war. The Embargo was accepted as an alternative, but its im mediate pressure at home was even greater than war. The disasters of the latter in the injuries inflicted on our commerce, would have been vast ; but they would have been casual, and might have been escaped. Not so this self- denying ordinance of the Embargo, which prohibited American vessels from sailing from foreign ports, and all foreign vessels from taking out cargoes : it was a constant force, acting to the destruction of all commerce. It, more- over, directed the course of trade from our own shores to others, whence it mi^ht not easily be recalled. All this must have been seen by the Adminis tration which resorted to the measure S a temporary expedient. It, of course, called down a storm of opposition from the remnants of Federalism in the com mercial States, which ended in its re peal early in 1809, after it had been in THOMAS JEFFERSON. 61 operation something more than a year. Immediately after, the Presidency of its author closed with his second term, leaving the country, indeed, in an agi tated, unsettled state in reference to its foreign policy, but with many elements at home of enduring prosperity and grandeur. The territory of the nation had been enlarged, its resources de veloped, and its financial system con ducted with economy and masterly ability ; time had been gained for the inevitable coming struggle with Eng land, and though the navy was not looked to as it should have been, it had more than given a pledge of its future prowess in its achievements in the Mediterranean. He w r as now sixty-six, nearly the full allotment of human life, but he was destined to yet seventeen years of hono rable exertion an interval marked by his popular designation, " the sage of Monticello," in which asperities might die out, and a new generation learn to reverence him as a father of the State. He had been too much of a reformer not to suffer more than most men the obloquy of party, and he died without the true Thomas Jefferson being fully known to the public. In his last days he spoke of the calumny to which he had been subjected with mingled pride and charitable feeling. He had not considered, he said, in words worthy of remembrance, " his enemies as abusing him ; they had never known "him. They had created an imaginary being clothed with odious attributes, to whom they had given his name ; and it was against that creature of their imaginations they had levelled their anathemas." * We may now penetrate within that home, oven, in the intimacy of his domestic correspondence, within that breast, and learn something of the man Thomas Jefferson. His question ing turn of mind, and, to a certain ex- o tent, his unimaginative temperament, led him to certain views, particularly in matters of religion, which were thought at war with the welfare of society. But whatever the extent of his departure, in these things, from the majority of the Christian world, he does not appear, even in his own family, to have influenced the opinion of others. His views are described, by those who have studied them, to resemble those held by the Unitarians. He was not averse, however, on occasion, to the services of the Episcopal Church, which, says Mr. Randall, "he generally at tended, and when he did so, always carried his prayer-book, and joined in the responses and prayers of the con gregation." Of the Bible he was a great student, and, we fancy, derived much of his Saxon strength of expres sion from familiarity with its language. If any subject was dearer to his heart than another, in his latter days, it was the course of education in the organization and government of his favorite University of Virginia. The topic had long been a favorite one, dating as far back with him as his report to the Legislature in 1779. It was revived in some efforts made in his county in 1814, which resulted in the establishment of a college that in 1818 1 Letter from Colonel T. J. Randolph to Henry 8. Ran- dall. Randall ? Life of Jefferson, ID. 544. 62 THOMAS JEFFERSON. gave place to the projected University. Its courses of instruction reflected Iris tastes, its government was of his con trivance, he looked abroad for its first professors, and its architectural plans, in which he took great interest, were mainly arranged by him. He was chosen by the Board of Visitors, appointed by the Governor, its Hector, and died holding the office. An in scription for his monument, which was found among his papers at his death, reads : " Here lies buried, Thomas Jefferson, author of the Declaration of American Independence, of the Statute of Virginia for Religious Free dom, and Father of the University of Virginia." The time was approaching for its employment, as the old statesman lin gered with some of the physical infirm ities, few of the mental inconveniences of advanced life. His fondness for riding blood horses was kept up almost to the last, and he had always his family, his friends, his books faithful to the end to the sublimities of ^Eschy- lus, the passion of his younger days. He was much more of a classical, even, than of a scientific scholar, we have heard it said by one well qualified to form an opinion; but this was a taste which he did not boast of, and which, happily for his enjoyment of it, his political enemies did not find out. In the decline of life, when debt, growing out of old encumbrances and new expenses on his estates, was pressing upon him, these resources were unfail ing and exacted no repayments. His pen, too, ever ready to give wings to his thought, was with him. Even in those last days, preceding the national anniver sary which marked his death, he wrote with his wonted strength and fervor : " All eyes are opened or opening to the rights of man. The general spread of the light of science has already laid open to every view the palpable truth, that the mass of mankind have not been born with saddles on their backs, nor a favored few booted and spurred, ready to ride them legitimately, by the grace of God." This was the last echo of the fire which was wont to inspire senates, which had breathed in the early councils of liberty, which had kept pace with the progress of the na tion to a third generation. A few days after, at noon of the day which had given the Republic birth, to the music of his own brave words, exactly fifty years after the event ; in full conscious ness of his ebbing moments, with tran quillity and equanimity, passed from earth the soul of Thomas Jeiferson. His old comrade, John Adams, lingered at Braintree a few hours longer, think ing of his friend in his dying moments, as he uttered his last words : " Thomas Jefferson still survives." They were too late for fact, but they have been accepted for prophecy, and in this spirit they are inscribed as the motto to the latest memorial of him of whom they were spoken. Thus, on the fourth of July, 1826, passed away the two great apostles of American liberty; the voice which, louder, perhaps, than any other, had called for the Declara tion of Independence, and the hand that penned it. JAMES MADISON. JAMES MADISON, the fourth President of the United States, was descended from an old family of Virginia planters, which is traced to the first annals of the country, in the records of the great pioneer, Captain John Smith. A branch of the family is distinguished in the history of western settlement be yond the Alleghanies. The first bishop of the Protestant Episcopal Church of Virginia bore the same name with the President, and was related to him. The family seat of the branch of the Madisons, which gave birth to the sub ject of our sketch, was Montpelier, in Orange County, Virginia. It was the home of his father and grandfather, and became celebrated as his own residence when years and public services brought pilgrims to the spot. His birthplace, however, was some fifty miles distant, on the banks of the Rappahannock, near Port Royal, at the estate belonging to his maternal grandmother, where his mother was then on a visit. Mr. Rives, the latest biographer of Madison, speaks of the ancient seat of hospitality, Montpelier, and "the pic turesque grandeur of its mountain scenery," enhanced by " the heartiness and cordiality of its possessors. The mother of Mr. Madison, Eleanor Con- way," he continues, " must in her day have added largely to the attractions of the social, as she undoubtedly did in the highest degree, to the happiness, comfort and usefulness of the domestic scene. Nothing is more touching and o o beautiful in the life of her illustrious son, than the devoted tenderness for his mother, with which her virtues and character inspired him ever recurring with anxious thoughtful ness, in the midst of his most important occupa tions, to her delicate health, and after the close of his public labors, person ally watching over and nursing her old age with such pious care, that her life was protracted to within a few years of the term of his own. His father was, no less, the object of his dutiful and affectionate attachment and respect. The correspondence between them, from the period of young Madison s being sent to Princeton College in 1769, to the installation of the matured and ho nored statesman in the office of Secre tary of State in 1801, when the father died, has been carefully preserved, and shows how much they were bound to each other by sentiments of mutual confidence and respect, even more than by ties of natural affection." * 1 History of the Life and Times of James Madison, by William C. Kiv?*. I. 8-9. 68 JAMES MADISON. Such influences of the beauties of nature and of domestic life, are favor able to a happy development of the youthful faculties, and have much to do with the man s future career. The young Madison was a well disposed, teachable youth. He received his edu cation at a boarding-school kept in the neighboring King and Queen County, by Donald Robertson, a learned Scotch man, with whom he was placed for a few years, at the age of twelve. Re turning to his home, he was prepared for college by the clergyman of the parish, the Rev. Thomas Martin, who had his home under the paternal roof. Princeton College, New Jersey, had then risen into distinction by the acqui sition of a President of great acuteness of mind and fine literary and philo sophical attainments, John Wither- spoon, who bore a prominent part in the Revolution, and whose name adorns the Declaration of Independence. To Princeton, then, at this time, flocked the youth, who were to be emphatically the men of the new generation. Madi son was foremost among the number, and by his side were Samuel Stanhope Smith, the future accomplished divine, Hugh Henry Brackenridge, the stalwart author of "Modern Chivalry," Philip Freneau, a man of great talent, the verse-maker of the Revolution, who was his classmate, William Bradford, Aaron Burr, and four future governors of States John Henry, of Maryland, Morgan Lewis, of New York, Aaron Ogden, of New Jersey, and* Henry Lee, of Virginia. 1 1 We are indebted to Mr. Rives for this enumeration, with the exception of Freneau, whom he has omitted. Madison was an ardent student, stealing hours from sleep for his books, and compressing the labors of the four years College course into three. This devotion enabled him to graduate in 1*771, a year earlier than he would otherwise have done ; but it cost him an illness which he sought to repair by a continued residence at Princeton, which was not without its advantages in the counsel of Witherspoon, who greatly admired the sagacity and pru dence of his pupil, and in the oppor tunity of watching the opening move ments of the Revolution at New York. Madison left Princeton with a mind imbued with literature, a polished style of composition, and religious convic tions strengthened by much thought and extensive reading. He now for a while employed his time at home in liberal studies, and assisted in the education of his younger brothers. His correspondence with his friend, William Bradford, at this time, shows an ardent, ingenuous, open ing manhood, kindling at the evils of the times, the union of poverty and luxury, the prevalence of vice and wickedness, and the defects of the clergy, and especially the persecutions which were then rife in his neighbor hood, under the church and State legis lation, directed against some unfortu nate Baptist dissenters. The sentiment of opposition to Brit ish authority, which had sprung up simultaneously from foregone conclu sions in the minds of the intelligent patriots of the country, was now .to as sume form in active services. Madison was among the earliest to give expres- JAMES MADISON. eion to it. He anticipated the famous resolutions of Henry in 1775, and upon that popular leader s success in the affair of the powder with Dunmore, drew up. in May of that year, an ad dress of thanks for the Orange County committee. In the first General Con vention of the State of Virginia, which organized its independence the follow ing year at Williamsburg, Madison was a delegate from his district. He was one of the committee appointed to frame a Constitution, and, under the leadership of George Mason, rendered valuable services to that instrument. He was the author, in particular, of an important amendment of the original draft of the Declaration of Rights, O which substituted for the word " tolera tion," in matters of religion, a full ex pression of the absolute right to the exercise of freedom. Madison sat with Jefferson in the first Legislative Assem- O bly under the Constitution at Wil liamsburg, but lost his election to the next session by his resistance to the popular custom, inherited from the Anglican colonial times, of treating the electors. His opponents were not so scrupulous; and he was defeated. To make amends for this turn of af fairs, the legislative body chose him a member of its Council of State. He held this position till he was sent by the Assembly to the National Congress of 1780, at Philadelphia, in which he served till the conclusion of peace. The services rendered by him during this period were rather those of a counsellor and committee man than of a debater. Indeed, a constitutional modesty and diffidence long withheld 9 him from public displays of the kind, and it was only by degrees that he conquered the inability or reluctance. " So extreme," we are told, " was his diffidence, that it was Mr. Jefferson s opinion that if his first public appear ance had taken place in such an assem bly as the House of Representatives of the United States, Mr. Madison would never have been able to overcome his aversion to display. But by practice, first in the Executive Council of Vir ginia, and afterwards in the Old Con gress, which was likewise a small body, he was gradually habituated to speech- making in public, in which he became so powerful." J But if we hear little of the oratory of Madison, there is much to be said of his services to the Old Congress. They were those of the statesman con tinually employed in eking out the resources, sustaining the credit, and adjusting the irregular machinery of an imperfect system of government. After the first glow of patriotism, and the ardor of remonstrance, in the early scenes of the Revolution, there was more of toil than of glory in the later labors of Congress. It$ feeble powers, even under the Articles of Confedera tion, its unsettled authority, the di vided allegiance of the people of the States, its shifts in the government of the army, its failures in finance, its un equal foreign diplomacy, all productive of jarring and discord, had, indeed, one compensation. They were well calcu lated to . discipline the statesmen who engaged in them, atid enlighten the 1 Biographical Sketch of Madison. Democratic Re view, March, 1839. 66 JAMES MADISON. public on the necessities and claims of a just government. Out of the troubled strife and confusion came forth, with others, Jay, Hamilton, and Madison, and the nation, after being long in pain, brought forth the Constitution. We may refer Madison s chief labors to one or other of these trials which we have enumerated. We find him, for instance, at one time discharging, with consummate ability, what would now fall to a Secretary of State, namely, the preparation of a paper to be sent to the minister in Spain, enforcing the claim to the free navigation of the Mississippi; and when the force of his argument had established his positions to the admiration of all men, he is com pelled to combat the opposition of his own State, and witness a degrading withdrawal by Congress of the proud instructions he had forwarded to the plenipotentiary at Madrid. At another time, he is ens;aa;ed in / O O advocating a simple and necessary- revenue system of duties, to discharge the obligations of the war and sustain public credit, a measure which is thwarted by State opposition, when his own Virginia falls away from her resolves, but which he returns to, and again works upon till it is brought, with increased authority, before Con gress, and submitted to the States, ac companied by a masterly appeal from his pen. And yet the work is not done. It is left as a legacy to the Government to come. During his residence in Philadelphia, Madison formed an unrequited attach ment for the daughter of General Floyd, a New York delegate, which drew forth from Jefferson a philosophical letter of consolation under his disappointment, which may relieve these rather dry details of political duties. " I sincerely lament," writes Jefferson, who was an acquaintance of the lady, " the misad venture which has happened, from whatever cause it may have happened. Should it be final, however, the world still presents the same and many other resources of happiness, and you possess many within yourself. Firmness of mind and unintermitting occupation will not long leave you in pain. No event has been more contrary to my expectations, and these were founded on what I thought a good knowledge of the ground. But of all machines, ours is the most complicated and in explicable." * Upon his return to Montpelier from Congress, Madison directed his atten tion again to the study of the law, which, like Bichard Henry Lee, he pur sued rather with a view to statesman ship, than with any intention to engage in the ordinary conflicts of the profes sion. From 1*784 to 1786, he was in the State legislature, which he re- entered with the full intention to bring to the service of Virginia and the country the lessons of experience which he had derived from his labors in the Congress. In his own words, " I ac ceded to the desire of my fellow citizens of the county, that I should be one of its representatives in the Legislature, hoping that I might there best con tribute to inculcate the critical posture to which the Revolutionary cause was 1 MS. letter cited in Rives 1 Life of Madison, I. 523. JAMES MADISON. reduced, and the merit of a leading agency of the State in bringing about a rescue of the Union and the blessings of liberty staked on it, from an impend ing catastrophe." 1 The most important of his employments in this capacity, relate to the internal improvements of the State and its commercial condition, in which he seconded the plans of Washington ; the proposed mode of supporting the clergy by assessment, advocated by Patrick Henry, which he defeated ; and the adjustment of the British debts, which he sought to bring about in furtherance of the treaty obli gation of the General Government. His measures were especially directed to the support of the confederacy, in the regulation of trade and commerce. For this purpose, he drafted the reso lution of Jan. 21, 1786, appointing Commissioners to assemble at a time and place to be agreed on with the delegates of other States who should accept the invitation, to take into con sideration the commercial questions at issue. The representatives of five States New York, New Jersey, Penn sylvania, Delaware and Virginia assembled, in September, at Annapolis, Maryland, which was chosen for its remoteness from the seat of Congress and the large cities. The attendance was inadequate to the intended object, but the meeting had one memorable re sult. It brought together Alexander O O Hamilton and James Madison, and by its emphatic recommendation drawn up by Hamilton, enlarging the objects 1 Introduction to the Debates in the Convention. Madison Papers, II. 693. The of the meeting, led directly to the Federal Convention of the ensuing year. Madison urged upon the Vir ginia Assembly compliance with tho suggestions at Annapolis, and he was himself chosen as one of the delegates to the new body, having among his colleagues from his native State, Wash ington, Mason and Wythe. Virginia thus stood foremost in the work of the Convention. Madison approached his great work the great work of his life with a solemn sense of its im portance and responsibility. No one knew better than himself the absolute necessity of national union, to be ex pressed in a system of law comprehend ing the whole and protecting the several parts. No one worked more faithfully in the Convention, which made a mighty nation out of jarring and discordant States. Madison was so impressed with the future import of the work in which he was engaged, that he added to the labors of debate the Herculean task of preparing, day by day, a report of the proceedings of the Convention, embracing all the speeches and discussions. " The curi osity I had felt," he says, in a prelimi nary essay prefixed to this manuscript history, which he left unpublished at his death as a legacy to his country, " during my researches into the history of the most distinguished confederacies, particularly those of antiquity, and the deficiency I found in the means of satisfying it, more especially in what related to the process, the principles, the reasons and the anticipations which prevailed in the formation of them, determined me to preserve, as far as I JAMES MADISON. could, an exact account of what might pass in the Convention whilst executing its trust, with the magnitude of which I was duly impressed, as I was by the gratification promised to future curi osity by an authentic exhibition of the objects, the opinions and the reasonings from which the new system of govern ment was to receive its peculiar struc ture and organization. Nor was I unaware of the value of such a contri bution to the fund of materials for the history of a Constitution, on which would be staked the happiness of a people great even in its infancy, and possibly the cause of liberty through out the world." The pains taken by Madison in the preparation of this work was extrordi- nary. He selected a seat near the chair man, where nothing that passed would escape him ; made abbreviated notes of all that was read and said ; not a little, he tells us, aided by practice and familiarity with the style and train of observation and reasoning of the prin cipal speakers ; wrote out these notes when the Convention was not in ses sion ; in a very few instances being aided by the revisions or supervision of the speakers. So important were these private labors of Madison, that when Congress, in 1819, undertook the publication of the Journal of the Con vention, Madison was called upon to complete its imperfect official outline. He left the Debates, at his death, care fully prepared for the press, with direc tions in his will for their publication. Failing to secure satisfactory arrange ments with publishers, his widow sub mitted the affair to President Jackson. He brought it before Congress, the pub lication was provided for by that body, and thirty thousand dollars were ap propriated to Mrs. Madison for the copyright. The work finally appeared, more than half a century after the dis cussions which it recorded, in 1840, when the public learnt, for the first time, the full histoiy of the Conven tion. The Madison Papers also include another series of Debates in the Con gress of the Confederation, taken in the years 1782-3, and 1787 ; for, reap- pointed in 1786, Madison was also a member of the old Congress at its final adjournment. The work of the Convention being now completed in the formation of the Constitution, it was next to be sub mitted to the States. Madison, in con junction with Jay and Hamilton, paved the way for its adoption in the Papers of the Federalist, originally published in a New York journal. The contribu tions written by him, in whole or in part, are twenty-nine in number, ex hibiting, among other points, the utility of the Union as a safeguard against domestic faction and insurrection, the anarchical tendencies of mere confede racies, the nature of the proposed powers, and the law of their distribu tion. The paper " Concerning the diffi culties which the Convention must have experienced in the formation of a pro per plan," rises into a philosophical com ment ; and certainly no one could write with more feeling on this theme than Madison. Madison was a member of the Eati- fying Convention in Virginia, where its adoption met with considerable opposi- JAMES MADISON. tion, headed by Patrick Henry, who looked upon the new government as a sacrifice of State interests. So decided was his antagonism to Madison, as its prominent defender, that lie defeated his election as Senator to the first Con gress. He was, however, chosen by the elec tors of his district a member of the House of Representatives, in which body he continued to serve for eight years. In the interpretation of the pow ers of the Constitution, and in regard to the policy of several measures of go vernment, he differed from the Adminis tration. He opposed the financial adjustments of Hamilton, and in the course of the French agitations led O ** the debate in opposition to the British treaty. This period of Congressional life was relieved by the marriage of Madison, in 1794, to a young widow of Phila delphia, Mrs. Todd, better known by her maiden name, Dolly Payne. This lady was a Virginian by birth, of Quaker parentage. The marriage was a most happy one. The vivacity and amiable disposition of Mrs. Madison have left their gentle recollections alike in the retirement of Montpelier, and the gay salons of Washington. Her femi nine grace softened the asperities and relieved the burden of political life. After soothing the protracted age of her husband, his feebleness and his languors, she survived many years, to be honored in herself and in his memory. After the close of his Congressional life, Madison retired with his wife to his books and home pursuits at Montpelier. He was soon, however, to be called forth again into the arena by the agitations of the times. The extraordinary measures of Adams, the Alien and Sedition laws, which grew out of the attacks upon govern ment in the French excitement, were violently assailed in Virginia. Mr. Madison drafted the famous resolu tions of the Legislature of 1708, con demning these acts of the Administra tion, and to extend their influence with the public, issued his Report. On the election of Jefferson to the Presidency, in 1801, Madison became Secretary of State, and discharged the duties of the office till he was called to succeed his friend at the head of the government, in 1809. It was a period of embarrassing foreign diplomacy, of vexed international relations, of pro tracted discussions of the rights of neu trals, of restrictions, and that measure of incipient war, the embargo. The con test with England, was the chief event O of Madison s administrations. He was a man of peace, not of the sword, and needed not the terror and indecorum of the flight from Washington, and the burning of the capitol, to impress upon him its unsatisfactory necessities. Public opinion was divided as to the wisdom of the contest. The embarrass ments of the question have been covered by a flood of glory, but little perhaps was gained besides the victories, which might not have been secured a little later by diplomacy. The war, however, established one fact, that America would fight, at whatever cost, in defence of her violated rights, and the lesson may have assisted, and may yet be destined 70 JAMES MADISON. to assist, other deliberations. At any rate, it is to the credit of Madison, that he entered upon the apparently inevitable hostilities with reluctance, that he maintained the struggle firmly, and brought it to an early close. Montpelier, again, in 181*7, gave its friendly welcome to the wearied states man. With the exception of his par ticipation as a member of the Conven tion, at Richmond, of 1829, in the revision of the Constitution of Virginia, he is said never to have left his district for the remainder of his life, which, solaced by the entertainment of books and natural history, the comforts of domestic life, and the attentions of his countrymen to the aged patriot, was protracted at his mountain residence, to the advanced term of eighty-five years an extraordinary period for a constitution feeble from youth, afflicted with various disorders, and exposed to the pressure of harassing occupation. He died at Montpelier, June 28, 1836, the last survivor of that second noble band of signers, the signers of the Constitution. An interesting article, contributed by Professor George Tucker, of the University of Virginia, of which, after the death of Jefferson, Madison be came rector, to the "London Penny Encyclopedia," supplies us with a few personal anecdotes of the man. "In person Mr. Madison was below the middle size ; though his face was ordi narily homely, when he smiled it was so pleasing as to be almost handsome. His manner with strangers was re served, which some regarded as pride, and others as coldness ; but, on further acquaintance, these impressions were completely effaced. His temper seemed to be naturally a veiy sweet one, and to have been brought under complete con trol. When excited, he seldom showed any stronger indication of anger than a slight flush on the cheek. As a hus band, Mr. Madison was without re proach. He never had a child. He was an excellent master, and though he O might have relieved himself from debt, and secured an easy income, he could never be induced to sell his slaves, ex cept for their own accommodation, to be with their wives or husbands. The writer has sometimes been struck with the conferences between him and some trusty servant in his sick chamber, the black seeming to identify himself with his master as to plans of management, and giving his opinions as freely, though not offensively, as if conversing with a brother. .... With great powers of argument, he had a fine vein of humor ; he abounded in anecdote, told his stories very well, and they had the advantage of being such as were never heard before, except perhaps from him self. Such were his conversational powers, that to the last his house was one of the most pleasant to visit, and his society the most delightful that can be imagined. Yet more than half his time he suffered bodily pain, and some times very acute pain." " Purity, modesty, decorum a mo deration, temperance, and virtue in everything," said the late Senator Ben- ton, " were the characteristics of Mr. Madison s life and manners." JAMES MONROE. JAMES MOXROE, the fifth President of the United States, was born in April, 1758, in Westmoreland County, Vir ginia, on the Potomac, a region remark able in the history of the country as the birth-place of "Washington, Madi son, and of the distinguished family of the Lees. Monroe s ancestors had been long settled on the spot. The names of his parents were Spence Monroe and Elizabeth Jones ; and, to our regret, the scant biographies of the President tell us nothing more of them. Their son was educated at the college of Wil liam and Mary, which he left to take part in the early struggles of the army of Washington a cause which in the breasts of Virginians superseded all ^ordinary occupation. Like Marshall and others, the future civilian began o his career in the pursuits of war. He joined the forces of Washington at New York, in time to participate in the courageous retreat after the battle of Long Island. He was in the action at Harlem Heights, and the subsequent battle of White Plains, and was in the retreat through the Jerseys. He led a company in the van of the battle of Trenton, and was severely wounded, a service in the field which procured him a captaincy. He was with Lord Stirling, acting as his aid in the cam paigns of 1777 and 1778, and distin guished himself at the Brandywine, Germantown and Moninouth. Being thrown out of the regular line of pro motion by accepting his staff appoint ment, he was anxious to regain his posi tion in the line, and for this purpose was sent by Washington to raise a regiment in Virginia. Failing to ac complish this object he remained in the State and directed his attention to the study of the law, under the direction of Jefferson, then recently elected Go vernor. He took no further part witli the army at the north, but was active as a volunteer when Virginia became the theatre of the war in the successive invasions of Arnold, Phillips and Corn- wallis. He was specially employed by Governor Jefferson in 1780, to visit the southern army as a military commis sioner, to report on its conditions ant I prospects, a duty which he performed to the full satisfaction of the Executive. In 1782 he was elected a member of the Virginia Legislature, and shortly promoted by that body to a seat in its executive council. In June of the next year he was chosen member of Congress and sat in that body at its meeting at Annapolis when Washington resigned his military commission at the close of the war. The immediate pressure of 71 72 JAMES MONROE. the necessary steps for self-defence, which gave a kind of cohesion to the loose authority of the old Congress, being now removed, attention was drawn in the most forcible manner to its defects and weaknesses. A poor in strument for war, it was utterly inca pable of managing the responsibilities of peace. In foreign and domestic regu lations, in the discharge of its obliga tions, in raising a revenue, in giving uniformity to trade, in every species of judicial determination, it was lamenta bly inefficient. Monroe, though a young legislator he was only twenty- four when he entered Congress, and consequently had not the dearly-pur chased experience of some of the older members who had exhausted every art of labor and ingenuity in holding the disjointed fabric together yet was sa gacious enough to see the difficulties of the confederacy, and was judged of sufficient importance in council to ap ply a remedy. He took part in the prominent discussions, and in 1*785 in troduced a report as chairman of a com mittee intrusted with certain resolu tions of Congress regarding the levying of an impost, and a call upon the State legislatures to grant the power of regu lating commerce. He reported in favor of an alteration of the Articles of Con federation to meet both objects. The necessity of some provision for these objects led first to the convention at Annapolis, where the initial steps were taken to bring together the convention of 178*7, at Philadelphia, which origin ated the Constitution. Another mark of confidence in the abilities of Monroe was his selection as one of the commis sioners to decide upon the controverted boundary between New York and Mas sachusetts, in 1784. He accepted the appointment, but delays arising in the composition of the board, resigned the office before the case came to a hearing. Indeed it was settled without resort to the court at allj Mr. Monroe also took part in the discussions touching the as sumptions of Spain in her attempts to close the navigation of the Mississippi to inland American commerce, opposing the concession of a right which at that time began to be resolutely claimed, and was fortunately at no very distant day established by treaty. We shall find his name prominently associated with this important measure. " It was the qualities of judgment and persever ance which he displayed on that occa sion," says Senator Benton, " which brought him those calls to diplomacy, in which he was afterwards so much employed with three of the then great est European powers France, Spain and Great Britain; and it was in allu sion to this circumstance that President Jefferson afterwards, when the right of deposit at New Orleans had been vio lated by Spain, and when a minister was wanted to recover it, said, Monroe is the man : the defence of the Missis sippi belongs to him. " 1 The feeling excited by the discussion of the negotiation between the North and South in the old Congress, led him to abandon his appointment as commis sioner in the boundary dispute between New York and Massachusetts. 2 1 Benton s Thirty Years View, I. 680. 8 Address on the Life and Character of James Monroe, by John Quincy Adams. JAMES MONROE. The three years service of MF. Mon roe in Congress closed in 1786. Dur ing that term he married Miss Kort- right, a lady of New York, of an old and respectable family of the State, of whose personal merits we may wil lingly accept the eulogy of President John Quiiicy Adams. " Of her attrac tions and accomplishments," says he, " it were impossible to speak in terms of exaggeration. She was, for a period little short of half a century, the cher ished and affectionate partner of her husband s life and fortunes. She ac companied him in all his journeyings through this world of care, from which, by the dispensations of Providence, she had been removed only a few months before himself. The companion of his youth was the solace of his declining years, and to the close of life enjoyed the testimonial of his affection, that with the external beauty and elegance of deportment, conspicuous to all who were honored with her acquaintance, she united the more precious and en dearing qualities which mark the ful filment of all the social duties, and adorn with grace and fill with enjoy ment the tender relations of domestic life." At the close of this Congress ional term, Mr. Monroe made his resi dence at Fredericksburg, with a view to the practice of the law, and was pre sently, in 1787, returned to the Assem bly of Virginia. In the following year he was chosen a member of the Con vention of the State, called to decide upon the acceptance of the Constitu tion. We have seen the part which he bore in the discussions of the old Con- 10 gross of the Confederacy on his first admission to that body in reference to the increase of its powers. When the new instrument was before the country and under deliberation in the State Convention, he was opposed to its adoption, holding that certain restric tions, afterwards embraced in the amendments, should precede its accept ance. Notwithstanding, however, his opposition to its provisions, he was early appointed to an important office of its creation, that of United States senator, to which he was elected in 1789, on the decease of William Gray- son, one of the first members chosen. He continued in the Senate till 1794, when he was appointed by Washing ton minister plenipotentiary to France, contemporaneously with Chief Justice Jay to the court of Great Britain. Gouverneur Moms, from his sympathies with royalty and his undisguised de clarations of his sentiments, had become unpopular with the French court. Moreover, his recall was requested as a compensation to the wounded honor of France in the American rejection of Genet, which was on the point of being consummated, when he was withdrawn. As a measure of reconciliation, Wash ington chose a successor from the party supposed particularly to favor French ideas, in contradistinction to the admir ers of England. In the two divisions of the country between France and Great Britain, the Republican party was of the former, the Federalists of the latter. In sending Jay to England and Monroe to France, the President was conciliating the nations to whom they were commissioned, and parties at JAMES MONROE. home. The policy of Washington was neutrality, and he endeavored, as far as was consistent with the public welfare, to treat both sides with strict impar tiality. There were more popular grounds of leaning to France ; that na tion had assisted us to the final triumph which gave America independence, and so had the better claim upon our sym pathies in comparison with an enemy who had not yet learnt to respect a successful rebel. But familiar, sponta neous France was felt to be more ex acting than cold and distant England. The continental nation had attempted to play the part of a dictator in Ameri can affairs, and she had not shown the virtue at home to command respect to her interference abroad. She repre sented, beside, dangerous political the ories, while our conservative system was essentially based on the authority of English precedents. For all this, it was natural that the administration of Washington should incline to England when a decision was to be made be tween the two nations. Mr. Monroe arrived in Paris August 2, 1794, and was well received by the National Convention, when he brought himself to the notice of that body. His reception in fact was enthusiastic. It was public, in the Convention, and as the minister delivered his credentials it was decreed "that the flag of the American and French republics should bo united together and suspended in the hall of the Convention, in testimo ny of eternal union and friendship be tween the two peoples. To evince the impression made on his mind by this act, and the grateful sense of his consti- tuents, Mr. Monroe presented to the Convention the flag of the United States, which he prayed them to accept as a proof of the sensibility with which his country received every act of friend ship from its ally, and of the pleasure with which it cherished every incident which tended to cement and consolid ate the union between the two nations." l These congratulations were reciprocat ed in kind by the transmission of a French flag to the United States by the hands of the new minister, M. Adet, who delivered it to the President at his reception. Words, however, do not always express deeds. The Govern ment continued not only jealous of any diplomatic movements of the United States in England, but pursued a sys tem of aggression upon American com merce and trade, little if anything short of actual hostilities. It was Mr. Mon roe s duty to negotiate and protest ; his efforts were ineffectual to control the agencies at work, and after some thing more than two years of diploma cy he received his letters of recall, brought by his successor, General Charles Cotesworth Pinckney. The mission of Monroe was officially closed on the first of January, 1797, when he took leave of the Executive Directory in an audience specially assigned for the purpose. It was no doubt the impression of Washington, in appointing a successor to Monroe, that the latter had in some way failed properly to urge the views of his Government. In the language of his cabinet, of which Timothy Pick- i Marshall s Life of Washington, V. 726. .1 AMKS MONROE. was now at the head. a whether this dangerous omission arose from such an attachment to the cause of France as rendered him too little mind ful of the interests of his own country, or from mistaken views of the latter, or from any other cause, the evil is the same ;" they therefore advised liis re call. It may be mentioned that Wash ington at first thought of sending a minister extraordinary to negotiate by his side ; but this he was unable to do without the action of Congress, and that body was not now in session. On his return to the United States, Mr. Monroe thought fit to meet what he conceived an unfair judgment of his course by the publication of a volume entitled " A View of the Conduct of the Executive in the Foreign Affairs of the United States, connected with the Mission to the French Republic during the Years 1794-5-6, illustrated by his Instructions and Correspondence, and other Authentic Documents." The book, from which the author expressly refused to receive any profit, was pub lished " by and for " Benjamin Frank lin Bache, at the office of the " Aurora," in Philadelphia. The impression it made upon Washington, now retired from public office to the shades of Mount Vernon, is expressed in a letter dated March, 1798, addressed to John Nicholas. " With respect to Mr. Mon roe s View of the Conduct of the Ex ecutive of the United States/ he writes, " I shall say but little, because, as he lias called it a view thereof, I shall leave it to the tribunal to which he himself has appealed to decide, first, how far a correspondence with one of its agents is entitled to the unqualified term he has employed ; secondly, how, if it is not, it is to exhibit a view there of; thirdly, how far his instructions, and the letters he has received from that Executive, through the constitu tional organ, and to which he refers, can be made to embrace the fjrtat points which he and his party are evidently aiming at, namely, to impress upon the public mind that favoritism towards Great Britain has produced a derelic tion, in the Administration, of good will toward France." Of " the propri ety of exposing to public view his pri vate instructions and correspondence with his own government," the censure is still more emphatic. That Washing ton read the book carefully, is witnessed by his copy of it left in the library at Mount Vernon, copiously annotated by his own hand, with critical marginal comments. 1 It is to the credit of Mon roe, that when the immediate occasion of his remonstrance was over he took the opportunity to express his regard for the character and genius of both Washington and Jay. His eulogist, President John Qtiincy Adams, does justice to this fair-mindedness. After commending the saying of the great orator, statesman and moralist of anti quity, when reproached for reconcilia tion with a bitter antagonist, that he wished his enmities to be transient, and his friendships immortal, he adds, " thus it was that the genial mind of James Monroe, at the zenith of his public honors, and in the retirement of his latest days, cast off, like the suppura- 1 Many of them are given by Mr. Sparks, in Appeudix X. to his eleventh volume of Washington s Writings. 76 JAMES MONROE. tion of a wound, all the feelings of unkindness, and the severities of judg ment which might have intruded upon his better nature, in the ardor of civil discussion." It would have been a ran corous nature indeed to carry into the Presidential chair, when Washington was in the grave, the memory of an acerbity obliterated not only by time, but which originally grew out of a policy that had been sanctioned by ex perience. Immediately after his recall, Mr. Monroe was returned to the Virginia Legislature, and speedily elected Gov ernor of the State, holding the office for the constitutional term of three years. In the beginning of 1803 he was again called upon by the President to pro ceed to France as minister extraordinary to take part in the negotiations already commenced by the resident minister, Robert R. Livingston, for the purchase or cession of Louisiana, which in the turn of European fortunes had been yielded by Spain to France. The pro vince was likely to prove a new instru ment of power, or plaything in the hands of the successful soldier of fortune who directed the movements of armies at his will. It was something more than a mere speculation that he would turn a portion of his force to the New World. The troops were assembled to embark for his American possessions on the Mississippi, and there was a prospect of far greater difficulties as to the navigation of that river than had ever presented themselves in the feeble diplomacy and scant authority of the former Spanish owners. Livingston warned his government at home of the danger, and advised preparation to meet the emergency, while he ex erted every nerve to bring his negotia tion to a successful issue. The ear of the First Consul would probably have proved deaf to all his appeals of argu ment, his demonstrations of political economy and geography, and his prof fers of payment, had not the short peace of Amiens been suddenly inter rupted by symptoms of the renewal of the European struggle. Napoleon wanted his men at home, and wished to put money in his purse. At this opportune moment of affairs, Monroe arrived in Paris in the spring of 1803, in time to share in the lucky negotia tion already commenced by Livingston, and on the eve of proving successful. When the will of a nation reposes in the breast of one man, the slow pro gress of diplomacy may sometimes be greatly shortened. Within a month of Monroe s arrival, on the 30th April, the treaty was concluded ceding Louis iana to the United States. Having al ready, in our account of the life of Liv- ino-ston, given some notice of the most O O important details of the negotiation, it is unnecessary to repeat them here. Suffice it that a more advantageous purchase has seldom if ever been made by any nation ; for it was not only an important acquisition in itself, larger than the country had any reason to ex pect not only did it include a vast- present possession, but it contained within it, to vary the expression of Dr. Johnson, "the potentialities of power beyond the dreams of ambition," while for those whose insight did not extend to posterity, an immediate obstacle to JAMES MONROE. 77 commerce, cause of peril, and even pos- sible danger of dismemberment, was removed. The purchase of Louisiana was the glory of the administration of Jefferson, The statesman who in our day should procure the cession of Lower Canada from England, would not se cure a parallel advantage. The treaty having thus been promptly negotiated at Paris, Mr. Monroe passed over to London, the successor to Rufu King as minister plenipotentiary to Great Britain. He entered immediately upon his duties, and was busy with the open maritime questions between the two nations, when he was called off by President Jefferson, to proceed to Spain to assist Charles Pinckney, the Ameri can minister at that court, in the nego tiations respecting claims for damages and the settlement of the disputed Louisiana lx)undary question. Though little resulted at the time from the dis cussions, the diplomatic papers of Mon roe remain, in the language of Presi dent Adams, " solid monuments of intellectual power applied to national claims of right, deserving the close and scrutinizing attention of every Ameri can statesman." Mr. Monroe resumed his duties in London in 1805 a period of growing difficulty for an American minister in Great Britain, bent as that nation was upon the destruction of the rights of neutral nations upon the seas. In this era of embarrassed diplomacy, he gained what admissions could be gained from the reluctant ministiy of Pitt and the partial liberality of Fox, when, the ag gressions of England upon the higli seas pressing heavily upon American commerce, William Pinkney, the emi nent lawyer of Maryland, of great fame in diplomacy, was sent out in the sum mer of 1806, as his coadjutor, or joint commissioner in the negotiation. Lords Auckland and Howick were appointed by Fox plenipotentiaries, and a treaty was in the beginning of 1807 conclud ed, by no means what was desired on the part of America, but, as in the case of Jay, the best which could be ob tained under the complicated difficul ties of the times, when England had her war interests to maintain, and the United States had not the means of en forcing her positions. The special effort at the outset was to induce Eng land to waive her pretensions to the impressment of seamen, an abandon ment of her assumed rights which she O was unwilling to make ; for this and other defects President Jefferson sent back the treaty for revisal ; but Mr. Canning having succeeded to the min- O O istiy, with less favorable dispositions than his predecessor, the negotiation was not resumed. Monroe s next public office was as Go vernor of Virginia for the second time, in 1810 ; and towards the close of the following year, he was called by Madi son to the Secretaryship of State, a position in direct line to the Presi dency. He continued in this relation^ to the Government during the remain der of Madison s two terms, discharg ing at the close of the contest with Great Britain, the additional duties of the war department. His efficiency in these relations, in which .he displayed force and activity, marked him out as the successor to Madison in the Presi- 78 JAMES MONROE. dential office. Indeed lie had been prominent as a candidate upon his return from his English mission; and his spirited and energetic conduct in furthering the operations of the war in Congress, had greatly added to his hold upon the public. He was the advocate of a national policy, and when funds were needed in the embar rassed financial condition of the times, pledged his own fortune, not without future embarrasment, for the public welfare. All this was not forgotten. O He was now to reap the fruits of a long course of exertion in public life, stretching backward to his early days with Washington at the Declaration of Independence, and the first cam paign of the Revolutionary war. All questions were at rest, time and the change of events having removed them from the national arena. The struggle over, the powers of the Constitution had in a great measure subsided, as the working of the instrument had been proved and precedents established; there was no longer a French and Ens*- O o lish party to agitate the country. "We can hardly, at the present day, estimate the value of emancipation from the latter embarrassment of the days of Washington and the elder Adams. In the words of an eminent statesman, whose experience covered both eras, John Quincy Adams. a We have now, neither in the hearts of personal rivals, nor upon the lips of political adversa ries, the reproach of a devotion to a French or a British faction. If we rejoice in the triumph of European arms, it is in the victories of the Cross over the Crescent. If we gladden with the native countrymen of Lafayette, or sadden with those of Pulaski and Kos- ciusko, it is the gratulation of freedom rescued from oppression, and the mourn ing of kindred spirits over the martyrs to their country s independence. We have no sympathies, but with the joys and sorrows of patriotism; no attach ments, but to the cause of liberty and of man." ^Monroe was raised to the Presidency, in 1819, by a large majority of the electoral votes. His Inaugural, which was well received by the public, intro duced the topics of a new era; he urged measures for the national defence, O / and favored the elements of national prosperity in internal improvements and home manufactures. His concilia tory policy looking to the welfare of the country was evident. He followed up his declarations by an early Presi dential tour through the Eastern States, of which, says Mr. Hildreth, the histo rian, " embittered and hot-tempered leaders of parties, who . for the last seven years had hardly deigned to speak to each other, or even to walk on the same side of the street, met now with smiling faces, vying in extrava gance of official adoration. The era of good feeling having thus begun, the way was rapidly paved for that com plete amalgamation of parties, which took place a few years after? * The chief events of Mr. Monroe s first term were the admission of Missis sippi, Illinois and Alabama as new States into the Union, and the impor tant cession of Florida by Spain, in History of the United States, 2d aeries III. 623. JAMES MONROE. 79 1819, completing the work of -annexa tion commenced in the purchase of Louisiana. When the time for reelec tion came round, so entire was the sub sidence of party, that President Monroe was a^ain chosen with but one dissent- O ing vote, that of New Hampshire, which was given to John Quincy Adams. He continued to pursue a liberal policy of internal improvements within the limits of the Constitution, to forward the military defences on land, and the growth and employment of the navy at sea. The revolutionary movements in the Spanish provinces, in which he took an earnest interest, engaged much of his attention. The close of his administration was marked by the progress of Lafayette through the country, a subject to which he made special allusion in his last annual message. " A more interesting specta cle," he said, with some reference per haps to his own recollections, " it is believed was never witnessed, because none could be founded on pure;; princi ples, none proceed from higher or more disinterested motives. That the feel ings of those who had fought and bled with him in a common cause should have been much excited was natural. But the circumstance which was most sensibly felt, and which his presence brought to the mind of all, was the O great cause in which we were engaged, and the blessings which we have de rived from our success in it. The struggle was for independence and liberty, public and personal, and in this we succeeded." President Monroe* wa> a plain writer, not at all given to the graces of rhetoric ; had he been at all a man of eloquence, or trained in its liberal art, he could hardly have failed to impress some striking images of his past life in a retrospect of his memora ble career. But this was not the na ture or talent of the man. In the sim plest words, h e takes leave of the public; but to those who were ac quainted with his life, as to himself, they were pregnant with meaning. " cannot conclude this communication," ends his eighth annual message, " the last of the kind which I shall have to make, without recollecting, with great sensibility and heartfelt gratitude, the many instances of public confidence and the generous support which I have received from my fellow citizens in the various trusts with which I have been honored. Having commenced my ser vice in early youth, and continued it since with few and short intervals, I have witnessed the great difficulties to which our Union has been exposed, and admired the virtue and courage with which they were surmounted." Mr. Monroe retired from Washing- O ton to a temporary residence in Loudon County, where, true to a policy of usefulness which had governed him through life, he discharged the duties of Justice of the Peace. He was also one of the Board of Visitors of the University of Virginia, a body of nine appointed by the Governor every fourth year, who with the Rector have the entire direction of that important State institution. He was also chosen Presi dent of the Convention which sat to revise the Constitution of Virginia, in the winter of 1829-30 ; but ill health, and the infirmities of advanced life, 80 JAMES MONROE. compelled him to retire from his seat before the adjournment of that body.- The death of his wife was now added to his affliction, and his home in Vir ginia being thus broken up, he removed to New York to dwell with his son-in- law, Mr. Samuel L. G<3uverneur. His death happened shortly after in this new home, on the Fourth of July, 1831, " the flickering lamp of life holding its lingering flame as if to await the day of the nation s birth and glory." l He was buried with public honors in the MarBle Cemetery, in Second street, where his remains reposed till the sum mer of 1858, when they were removed at the instance of the State of Vir ginia to the rural cemetery of Holly wood, on the banks of James River, overlooking the city of Eichmond. They again received public honors from New York, and were escorted to their final resting-place by the Seventh Regi ment of New York State troops, gene rally known as the National Guard. The time chosen for the new interment was the anniversary of his death, but as that day fell on Sunday, the funeral celebration at Richmond took place on the fifth of July. An address was deliv ered at the grave by Governor Wise of Virginia, in which, after enumerating the events of the long and honorable public career of the departed, he dwelt upon the circumstances of his burial. " Venerable patriot !" was his language, "he found his rest soon after he retired. On the Fourth of July, 1831, 1 John Quincy Adams. twenty-seven years ago, he departed, like Jefferson and Adams, on the anni versary of Independence. His spirit was caught up to heaven, and his ashes were enshrined in the soil of his adopted State, whose daughter he had married; of that grand and prosperous Commonwealth whose motto is Excel sior, our sister New York, the Empire State of the United States of America. Virginia was the natural mother of Monroe, and New York was his mother- in-law ; Virginia by birth and baptism, New York by marriage and burial. This was well, for he gave to her inva ders the glaived hand of bloody wel come* at Trenton, aad New York gave to him a hospitable grave. Virginia respectfully allowed his ashes to lie long enough to consecrate her sister s soil, and now has dutifully taken them to be earth to her earth and ashes to her ashes, at home in the land of his cradle." Tn person President Monroe was tall and we}l formed, of light complexion and blue eyes. His long and accepta ble public life bears witness to his personal and intellectual qualities. In the words of the sketch of the late Senator Benton just quoted, " his parts were not shining but solid. He lacked genius, but he possessed judgment ; and it was the remark of Dean Swift, that genius was not necessary to the con ducting of the affairs of State ; that judgment, diligence, knowledge, good intentions and will were sufficient. Mr. Monroe was an instance of the soundness of this remark." 3, 2 . JOHN QU1NCY ADAMS. WE have already traced the lineage of Jolm Quincy Adams. He comes nobly heralded upon the scene of our Revolutionary annals. His stirring re lative, the zealous and always consist ent Samuel Adams, the very front and seed-plot of obstinate rebellion, had taught the mechanics of Boston to resist, and his eloquence had reached the ears of men of influence throughout the colony and nation. His father, John Adams, thirty-two years old at the time of his birth, deeply grounded in the histoiy of constitutional liberty and with the generous flame of freedom burning brightly in his bosom from boyhood, was already prepared for that warm, enlightened, steady career of patriotism never swerving, always true to his land which bore him aloft, the chosen representative of New Eng land to the Congress of his country and ultimately to her highest authority ; while the nation in turn adopted him her express image in the important ne gotiations at three of the great courts of Europe. Nor should we forget the tender, heroic mother, the child of sensibility and genius, hardened into the maturity and perfection of the female character by the fire of the Revolution, the gen tle Abigail, in whose fair friendship 11 and sympathies and feminine graceful ness posterity has an ever-living parti cipation through the delightful pages of her " Correspondence." Of that family, in a house adjoining the old paternal Braintree home, in the present town of Quincy, at this immi nent moment of the Revolution, John Quincy Adams, the eldest son, was born July 11, 1707. He derived his baptismal name from his great-grand father, John Quincy, the time-honored representative of Quincy in the Colo nial Legislature. The name was given by his grandmother, as her husband was dying. The incident was not for gotten by the man. He recurred to it with emotion, fortified by a sense of duty. In a sentence cited by his recent biographer, the venerable Josiah Quin- cy, he says : " This fact, recorded by my father at the time, is not without a moral to my heart, and has connected with that portion of my name a charm of mingled sensibility and devotion. It was filial tenderness that gave the name it was the name of one passing from earth to immortality. These have been through life, perpetual admoni tions to do nothing unworthy of it." * It is interesting to trace the progress of the child in his mother s correspond ence, from the infant lullaby which sho 81 82 JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. prattles to her husband, when " our daughter rocks him to sleep with the song, Come, papa, come home to bro ther Johnny. The boy has just en tered his eighth year, and his father is on his way to the Continental Congress at Philadelphia, when she writes : " I have taken a very great fondness for reading Eollin s Ancient History, since you left me. I am determined to go through with it if possible, in these my days of solitude. I find great plea sure and entertainment from it, and I have persuaded Johnny to read me a page or two every day, and hope he will, from his desire to oblige me, en tertain a fondness for it." The child had some instruction at the village school, but he was especially taught by his father s law students, in the. house. As the pressure of war increases, this resource is broken up. The anxious mother writes, " I feel somewhat lonely. Mr. Thaxter is gone home. Mr. Rice is going into the army as captain of a company. We have no school. I know not what to do with John." In the summer of this year, 1*7 7 5, " stand ing," we are told, " with her on the summit of Penn s Hill, he heard the cannon booming from the battle of Bunker s Hill, and saw the flames and smoke of burning Charlestown. Dur ing the siege of Boston he often climbed the same eminence alone, to watch the shells and rockets thrown by the Ame rican army." l A letter from the boy himself, two years later, then at the age of ten, exhibits his youthful precocity. " I love," he writes to his father, " to 1 Quincy e Memoir, p. 8. receive letters very well much better than I love to write them. I make but a poor figure at composition ; my head is much too fickle. My thoughts are running after birds eggs, play and tri fles, till I get vexed with myself. Mam ma has a troublesome task to keep me steady, and I own I am ashamed of myself. I have but just entered the third volume of Smollett, though I had designed to have got half through it by this time. I have determined this week to be more diligent, as Mr. Thax ter will be absent at court, and I- can not pursue my other studies. I have set myself a stint-, and determined to read the third volume half out." He asks for directions to proportion his time between play and writing, and in a postscript says, " Sir, if you will be so good as to favor me with a blank book, I will transcribe the most remark able occurrences I meet with in my reading, which will serve to fix them upon my mind." 1 In this letter we may read the aged man backward, from his steadfast, methodical desk in the House of Representatives, to the little boy at his mother s side in Braintree. The "childhood shows the man as morn ing shows the day." He was an old- fashioned, studious youth, nurtured amidst grave scenes of duty, early in harness, a resolute worker from his cra dle to his grave. The next year the boy is taken with his father, on board the frigate Boston, on his first mission to France ; followed, in her first letter after the separation, 1 This letter appears from the manuscript in Mr. Ed ward Everett s eloquent Faneuil Hall eulogy on Adams. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 83 by this noble injunction of the mother: " Enjoin it upon him never to disgrace his mother, and to behave worthily of his father." The boy is a little man on the voyage, securing the favor of the French gentlemen on board, who teach him their language. In a perilous storm which arose, his father records his inexpressible satisfaction at his be havior, " bearing it with a manly pa tience, very attentive to me, and his thoughts constantly running in a serious strain." When they arrive in France, and take up their lodgings with Ben jamin Franklin at Passy, he is put to school with the sage s grandson, Benja min Franklin Bache, in the neighbor hood. At the close of this short sojourn abroad, his father sums up his advan tages : " My son has had a great oppor tunity to see this country ; but this has unavoidably retarded his education in some other things. He has enjoyed perfect health from first to last, and is respected wherever he goes for his vigor and vivacity, both of mind and body, for his constant good humor and for his rapid progress in French as well as his general knowledge, which, for his age, is uncommon." l On the return voyage, in the Sensible, the Chevalier de la Luzerne, the minister to the Unit ed States, and his secretary, M. Marbois, " are in raptures with my son. They get him to teach them the language. I found, this morning, the ambassador seated on the cushion in our state-room, M. Marbois in his cot, at his left hand, and my son stretched out in his, at his right ; the ambassador reading out 1 Letters of John Adams to his wife, IT. 64. loud in Blackstone s Discourse at his en trance on his professorship of the com mon law at the University, and my son correcting the pronunciation of every word and syllable and letter." * In November, father and son are at sea again in the Sensible, on their re turn to France. This time they are landed in Gallicia, and pursue their way through the northern provinces of Spain to the French frontier. When the boy s Diary shall be published, that gigantic work which we are told he commenced on this second voyage, and continued, with few interruptions, through life, the world will doubtless get some picturesque notices of these foreign scenes, so happily sketched in his father s note-book. The boy was again at school in France, and on his father s mission to Amsterdam, in the summer, was placed with an instructor under the wing of the venerable uni versity of Leyden, where in January, 1781, with Franklin s correspondent, Benjamin Waterhouse, then a student of medicine, he went before the Rector Magnificus and was duly matriculated. His father s object in taking him to Leyden was to escape "the mean-spirit ed wretches," as he describes them, the teachers of the public schools at Am sterdam. The youth, however, was not long at the University. His father s secretary, Francis Dana, having received the ap pointment of minister to St. Petersburg, in July, took the boy of fourteen with him as his secretary. "In this capa city," says Mr. Everett, " he was recog- 1 John Adams Sea Diary, June 19, 1779. Works, III. 214. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. nized by Congress ; and there is, per haps, no other case of a person so young being employed in a civil office of trust, under the government of the United States. But in Mr. Adams career there was no boyhood." His know ledge of French, indeed, appears to have been of real service in interpret ing between his chief and the French minister, the Marquis de Yerac, with whom the negotiations were conducted at the Russian capital. In the autumn of the succeeding year he left St. Peters burg for a winter in Stockholm, and in the spring travelled alone through Sweden, Denmark and Germany to the Hague, where in May, 17*73, we hear of him in his father s correspondence, as again " pursuing his studies with great ardor." He was present with his father at the concluding peace negotia tions at Paris, where he witnessed the signing of the memorable final treaty. The greater part of the next two years was passed in London and Paris, where he had now the society of his mother. He is still the same vigilant student, while he assists his father as his secre tary. " He is a noble fellow," writes John Adams from Auteuil to Francis Dana at the close of IT 84, " and will make a good Greek or Roman, I hope, for he spends his whole time in their company, when he is not writing for me." 1 When his father was appointed the first minister plenipotentiary to Eng land, it was but natural to suppose that the secretary who had shared his hum bler labors would have desired to par ticipate in the full-blown honors of the 1 John Adams Works, IX. 527. royal court. There is not one youth in a thousand who would have resisted the temptation. For what does John Quincy Adams, at the age of eighteen, after his responsible duties in Russia, his independent sojourn in Stockholm, and intercourse with the brilliant Ame rican circles in Paris, with Franklin at the centre, exchange the splendid pro spect of life in the British metropolis ? For the leading-strings and restraints of Harvard, and a toilsome pupilage at the bar. The choice between inclina tion and duty never was more tempt ingly presented. His own expression of the resolve is too memorable to be omitted. " I have been seven years travelling in Europe," he writes, " see ing the world and in its society. If I return to the United States, I must be subject, one or two years, to the rules of a college, pass three more in the tedious study of the law, before I can hope to bring myself into piofessional notice. The prospect is discouraging. If I accompany my father to London, my satisfaction would probably be greater than by returning to the United States ; but I shall loiter away my pre cious time, and not go home until I am forced to it. My father has been all his lifetime occupied by the interests of the public. His own fortune has suffered. His children must provide for themselves. I am determined to get my own living, and to be depend ent upon no one. With a tolerable share of common sense, I hope in Ame rica to be independent and free/ Ra ther than live otherwise, I would wish to die before my time." * Quiacy s Memoir, p. 6. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 85 With this creditable resolve he bore with him from his father a letter to Benjamin Waterhouse, touching his ex amination at Harvard. The solicitous parent, who had read some of the classics with his son, and forsaking the card-table, attempted even an introduc tion to the higher mathematics, in which he failed, candidly admitting that these abstruse studies had quite departed from him in thirty years ut ter unconsciousness of them, is anxious to impress upon his friend those gene ral acquisitions which might be ob scured at an examination for want of some of the technicalities of instruction. Thus, while he had steadily pursued his studies, and made written transla tions of the JEneid, Suetonius, Sallust, Tacitus Agricola and Germany, and portions of the Annals, with a good part of Horace, he might be defective in quantities and parsing. Harvard, however, was not likely to be too inex orable in her demands ; nor was the pupil likely to fall short of them. Af ter a few mouths reading with the Rev. Mr. Shaw of Haverhill, he was admitted to the junior class in March, 1786, and continuing in the University long enough to leave a fragrant memo ry of his scholarship and good princi ples, received, his degree the following year. His commencement oration, which was published, was on " The Im portance and Necessity of Public Faith to the Well-being of a Community." He now engaged in a three years course of the study of the law, with Theophilus Parsons, at Newburyport, in which he must have heard much from his vigorous-minded preceptor, who afterwards became chief justice of the State, of the struggle then going on for the adoption of the Constitution. Adams w r as admitted to the bar in 1790, and at once, as he long afterwards expressed it, " commenced what I can hardly call the practice of the law in the city of Boston." For the first three years he had the usual opportunity of young lawyers for further study ; and unlike many of them, he availed him self of it. A portion of his leisure was spent in the discussion of the impor tant political questions of the day. He answered the plausible sophistries on government, of Paine s " Rights of Man," in a series of essays published in Rus sell s " Columbian Centinel," signed Publicola ; and in 1793, in the same journal, urged neutrality upon the countiy in the contest between Eng land and France, and attacked the in solent Genet in terms of wholesome indignation. This service, and doubt less his father s great successes in Hol land, led Washington s administration to appoint him, in 1794, minister to the Netherlands. His acceptance of this honorable position was at the cost of a rapidly developing legal practice. Ar riving in London in time to confer with Jay, whose British treaty was then getting adjusted, he reached Hol land in season to witness the occupa tion of the country by the French pro pagandists. He remained at the Hague, availing himself of the opportunities and leisure of the place to add to those stores of knowledge already consider able, w r hich he had accumulated, with the exception of a few months passed in diplomatic business in England till 86 JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. the summer of IT 97, when lie received the appointment of minister to Portu gal. On his father s occupancy of the Presidency this was changed to the mission to Berlin. Before proceeding to his new post he passed over to Eng land to claim the hand of a lady to whom he had become engaged on a former visit, Miss Louisa Catharine Johnson, the daughter of the American consul at London. Adams felt at first a natural reluc tance to accept an important office at the hands of his father ; but his inde pendence was reconciled to the step when he learned that it had been urged by Washington himself, who considered him fully entitled by his previous ser vices, to diplomatic promotion. He now took up his residence at Berlin. He was engaged in this mission to the close of his father s administration. During this time he negotiated a treaty of commerce with Prussia, and in the summer of 1800 made a considerable tour in Silesia. A number of letters addressed to his brother in America, descriptive of this country, were pub lished without his advice in the " Port Folio," and a few years after were issued in a volume by a London pub lisher. In this collection they form a methodically written work, descriptive of the industry and resources of an in teresting country with a comprehensive account of its history and geography. Adams also, during his residence at Berlin, employed himself in several literary compositions, of which the most important was a poetical version of Wieland s " Oberon." He intended this for publication, but found that Sotheby, the English translator, had anticipated him. Several satires of Juvenal were also among his transla tions. He moreover prepared for pub- lication in America, a treatise of Frede rick de Gentz, " On the Origin and Principles of the American Revolution," which interested him by its apprecia tion of American principles of liberty, as contradistinguished from the license of the French Revolution. On his return to Boston, he turned his attention again to the study and re sumed the practice of the law. He was not, however, suffered to remain long free from official employment. A few months after his arrival he was called to the Senate of Massachusetts, and almost immediately chosen to the Sen ate of the United States. It was at that period of the disintegration of the federal party when the old order of things was fast going out, and the new was not fully established. Adams, who was always inclined to think for himself, chose an independent position. In some things, as the constitutionality of taking possession of Louisiana, in the way in which it was done, he op posed the administration ; in voting for the appropriation of the purchase mo ney, he was with it. When the promi nent measures of Jefferson s administra tion in reference to England began to take shape in the Embargo, he was at variance with his colleague, Mr. Pick ering. He was of opinion that submis sion to British aggression was no longer a virtue. His course, which was o considered a renunciation of federalism, created a storm in Massachusetts, where the legislature, in anticipation of the JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 87 ii-ual period, elected a successor to his senatorial terra. Upon this censure he immediately resigned. His retirement was characteristic enough. He had been some time be fore, in 1805, chosen professor of rhet oric and oratory on the Boylston foun dation at Harvard, and had delivered his Inaugural the following year. The preparation of these lectures, in the de livery of which he now continued to be employed, called for fresh classical stu dies ; but to study he was never averse, and it is the memorable lesson of his career, that the pursuits of literature are not only the ornament of political life, but the best safeguards of the per sonal dignity of the politician, when, as must sometimes happen with an inde pendent man, he is temporarily- thrown out of office by party distractions. If he is then found, as Adams always was, making new acquisitions of learning, and preparing anew for public useful ness, he must and will be respected, whichever way the popular favor of the moment may blow. Mr. Adams con tinued his duties at Harvard, readin^ o lectures and presiding over the exer cises in elocution till the summer of 1809. In the following year, his " Lec tures on Oratory, delivered to the Sen ior and Junior Sophisters in Harvard University," were published at Cam bridge. Mr. Edward Everett, who was at the time one of the younger students, bears witness to the interest with which these discourses were received, not merely by the collegians but by various voluntary listeners from the neighborhood. "They formed," he . "an era in the University, and were," he thinks, " the first successful attempt in the country at this form of instruction in any department of litera ture." Immediately upon the entrance of Madison upon the Presidency, Adams received the appointment of minister to Russia, the court which he had ap proached, in his boyish secretaryship, during the Revolution, with Dana. He sailed from Boston early in August, 1809, in a merchant ship, for St. Peters burg ; but from various detentions, a rough passage, and the vexatious exam inations of the British cruisers in the Baltic, then blockading Denmark, he did not arrive in Russia till October. The commercial embarrassments, in the complicated relations of the great Na poleonic wars of the time, witnessed on the voyage, in the detention and oppression of American ships, furnished his chief diplomatic business at the imperial court. As much as any man, perhaps, he aided in solving these international difficulties. He had a cordial reception at court on his first arrival, and as time wore on, having prepared the way by his interviews with Count Romanzoff, the chancellor of the empire, received a proffer of mediation from the Emperor Alexan der, between Great Britain and the United States, in the war which had now broken out. The offer was ac cepted at home, and in the summer of 1813, he was joined at St. Petersburg by his fellow commissioners, Bayard and Gallatin, appointed for the negotia tion. The mediation was not, however, accepted by Great Britain, though it proved a step forward to the final con- 88 JOHN QTJINCY ADAMS. ferences and adjustment at Ghent. England proposed to treat directly at Gottenburg or London. The American government chose the former, and Adams was placed on the commission with Bayard, Clay, Russell and Galla- tin, to negotiate. Before his arrival on the spot, he learnt that the conference was appointed at Ghent, whither he proceeded in the summer of 1814; and, after a protracted round of diplomacy, had the satisfaction of signing the Treaty of Peace the day before Christ mas of that year. The scene of this event in that region which had wit nessed his father s successes, and his early entrance upon the world, and above all, the event itself closing the gates of war, as his father again had signed the great pacification of 1*783, must have been peculiarly gratifying, not merely to his patriotic pride, but to the love of method which character ized his life. He may readily have recognized in it that courteous fate which so often marked the career of his family. If there is a political as well as a poetical justice, it was cer tainly exhibited in the history of John Quincy Adams, and his illustrious father. The coincidences are most striking. Adams having now closed his mis sion to St. Petersburg, and having been appointed minister to Great Britain, was joined by his family from Russia, in Paris, where he witnessed the return of Napoleon from Elba, and the com mencement of the Hundred Days. It was one of those dramatic surprises of Parisian life, which we may expect to be faithfully represented in Mr. Adams Diary, when it shall be given to the world. "We get, perhaps, a glimpse of his record in his biographer, Mr. Quin- cy s narrative. Napoleon, we are told, " alighted so silently, that Mr. Adams, who was at the Theatre Franais, not a quarter of a mile distant, was una ware of the fact till the next day, when the gazettes of Paris, which had show ered execrations upon him, announced the arrival of his majesty, the empe ror, at Tiia palace of the Tuileries. In the Place du Carousel, Mr. Adams, in his morning walk, saw regiments of cavalry belonging to the garrison of Paris, which had been sent out to oppose Napoleon, pass in review before him, their helmets and the clasps of their belts yet glowing with the arms of the Bourbons. The theatres assumed the title of Imperial, and at the opera in the evening, the arms of the Empe ror were placed on the curtain, and on the royal box." Adams, again respecting his father s precedents, took up his residence with his family in London. He was the American representative at the court of St. James for two years, when he was called by President Monroe to his cabinet as Secretory of State. His time in England was passed in the best society of books, things and men. After concluding the commercial rela tions of the treaty, he removed from London to a retired residence, at Bos ton House, Ealing, nine miles distant, where he found time he could always make time for his liberal studies. The year 1817 saw him again in America, at Washington, the leading member of the new administration, in JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 89 the direct line of promotion to the Presidency. Old party lines were be coming, or had already become extinct. It was a period of fusion, "an era of good feeling," as it came to be called on the quiet reelection of Monroe. The chief diplomatic measures of Adams secretaryship, had reference to Spain. He was always spirited in his assertions of the foreign policy of the country, and on this occasion was greatly instrumental in the negotiations which ended in the cession of Florida. One of his special services was the pre paration of an elaborate Report on Weights and Measures, at the call of Congress. He devoted six months of continuous labor to this production, entering into the subject philosophi cally, and in its historical and practical relations. The report was made to Congress in February, 1821. Adams continued to hold his secre taryship through both terms of Mon roe s administration. At its close, he was chosen by the House of Represen tatives his successor in the Presidency, the vote being divided between Jack son, himself, Crawford and Clay, who decided the choice by throwing the vote of Kentucky* in his favor. His administration, says Mr. Everett, in the address already cited, "was, in its prin ciples and policy, a continuation of Mr. Monroe s. The special object which he proposed to himself was to bind the distant parts of the country together, and promote their mutual prosperity 1 V increased facilities of communica tion." There were manv elements of m opposition at work against a reelection, in the complicated struggles of the 12 times. Adams encountered a full mea sure of unpopularity and retired in political disaster, as well as in dipl<- matic triumph, like his father to the shades of Quincy that long retire ment which had only recently ended in death. The departure from the world of the elder Adams, occurred in the second year of his son s Presidency. Unlike the father, however, he was not to sit brooding over the pa^t. Work, persistent work, was the secret of John Quincy Adams life. Of a tough mental fibre, there was no such thing as defeat, while he had a mind to contrive, a tongue to utter, or a hand to hold the pen. He was sixty-two at his retirement from the Presidency, within a few years of the age when his father was succeeded by Jefferson. Both felt the storm of unprecedented party spirit and annoyance, and both yielded to great popular heroes. Literature again offered her hand to her assiduous son. " His active, ener getic spirit," we are told, " required neither indulgence nor rest, and he immediately directed his attention to those philosophical, literary and reli gious researches, in which he took un ceasing delight. The works of Cicero became the object of study, analysis and criticism. Commentaries on that master-mind of antiquity were among his daily labors. The translation of the Psalms of David into Enirli>h verse- was a frequent exercise ; and his study of the Scriptures was accompanied by critical remarks, pursued in the spirit of free inquiry, chastened by a solemn reference to their origin and influence on the conduct and hopes of human 90 JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. life. His favorite science, astronomy, led to the frequent observation of the planets and stars; and his attention was also called to agriculture and hor ticulture. He collected and planted the seeds of forest trees, and kept a record of their development; and, in the summer season, labored two or three hours daily in his garden. With these pursuits were combined sketches preparatory to a full biography of his father, which he then contemplated as one of his chief future employments." 1 He was, however, again soon called into action, being elected, in November, 1830, by his district, to the House of Representatives. It was a novel spec tacle an ex-president of the United States sitting in the lower house, but it was fully in accordance with the spirit of our institutions, which honor all faithful servants of the public. Nor is it to be denied that at least equal talent may be called for, and equal influence exerted in the discharge of duties of public life, which to the eye of the world have a comparative inferiority of position. Power may be wielded by a representative which may govern the administration itself. There are many acts, of our legislative bodies more potential than the simple acquies cence of the Executive ; as the origina tor of a measure or line of policy must be of more consequence than the instru ment which gives it effect. For more than sixteen years Adams labored at his seat in the House. He was- the most punctual man of the assembly, always on the alert ; cool, resolute, even 1 Josiah Quincy s Biography, p. 175-6. pugnacious. There was scarcely a ques tion, involving a point of morality, of national honor, or of literary and philo sophical culture, on which his voice was not heard. He supported the de mands of Jackson upon France; he asserted and successfully maintained the right of petition against vast obloquy and opposition; he was especially in strumental in the establishment of the National Observatory, and the Smithso nian Institution. A bare enumeration of his speeches, writings and addresses, would fill the space assigned to this sketch lectures and addresses on points of law, government, history, biography and science, moral and social, local and national, before sena tors and before youths, on anniversa ries of towns, on eras of the State, eulogies on the illustrious dead, on Madison, Monroe, Lafayette, the oration at the Jubilee of the Constitution. As he had lived, so he died in har ness. Death found him where he could have wished its approach, in the halls of Congress. His robust powers of body and mind had held out surpris ingly, as his vigor, no less than his venerable appearance in the House, enforced an authority not always read ily conceded to the persistence in unpopular appeals of "the old man eloquent." He was approaching eighty : still in the exercise of his extraordinary faculties, when, in a recess of Congress, walking in the streets of Boston, in November, 1846, he was stricken by paralysis, from which, nevertheless, he recovered in time to take his seat in Congress early in the year. The House rose to greet him, and he was conducted JOHN QUINCY .ADAMS. 91 to liis chair with marked honors. lie felt, however, his approach to the grave. There is a most touching evi dence of this in the anecdote related by Mr. Everett. His journal, the diaiy of his long life, interrupted the day of his attack, was resumed after an inter val of nearly four months, with the title, " Posthumous Memoir." Writing in its now darkened pages, he says of the day when it was interrupted, "From that hour I date my decease, and consider myself, for every useful purpose to myself and fellow creatures, dead ; and hence I call this, and what I may hereafter write, a posthumous memoir." He continued in the House another year, when the final messenger came, on Monday morning, the twenty-first of February, 1848. After passing a Sunday in harmony with his elevated religious life, he was observed to ascend the steps of the Capitol with his accus tomed alacrity. As he rose, with a paper in his hand, to address the Speaker in the House, he was seized by a return of paralysis, and fell, uttering, "this is the last of earth I am content." He was taken, as the House adjourned, to an adja cent room, where he lingered over Washington s birthday till the twenty- third, when he died in the speak. T S apartment, under the roof of the Cap itol. His remains were taken to Bos ton, reposed in state in old Faneuil Hall, and were quietly laid by the side of his parents, in a grave at Quincy. The lesson of such a life is plain. Labor, conscientiousness, religious duty; talent borne out to its utmost stretch of performance by the industrious im provement of every opportunity; the self-rewarding pursuits of letters and science, in the gratification of an insa tiable desire for knowledge ; a constant invigoration of the moral powers by the strenuous discharge of duty ; inde pendence bought by self-denial and prudence, enjoying its wealth the calm temper, the untroubled life in the very means of acquiring it. How noble an illustration of the powers of life ! When the correspondence and Di ary, which Adams maintained through his long life, shall be published when his writings shall be collected from the stray sheets in which they have been given to the winds, when the literary aids, due to his memory, shall be gathered in the library about his fair fame, there will be seen an enduring monument of a most honorable life of public service and mental activity. ANDREW JACKSON. FEW of the eminent men of America, whose acts are recorded in these pages, entered upon the public stage so early and continued on it so late, as the sub ject of this sketch. To no one but him self was it reserved to bridge over so completely the era of the Revolution with the latest phase of political life in our day. The youth who had suffered wounds and imprisonment at the hands of a British officer in the war of Inde pendence, was destined long after, when a whole generation had left the stage, to close a second war with that power ful nation by a triumphant victory; and when the fresh memory of that had passed away, and men were read ing the record in history, the same hero, raised to the highest honor of the State, was to stand forth, not simply Presi dent of the United States, but the ac tive representative of a new order of politics, reaping a new harvest of favor in civil administration, which would throw his military glory into the shade. Nor was this all. These comprehen sive associations, much as they include, leave put of view an entirely distinct phase of the wonderful career of this extraordinary man. A rude pioneer of the wilderness, he opened the path way of civilization to his countrymen, and by his valor in a series of bloody Indian wars, made the terrors of that formidable race a matter of tradition in lands which he lived to see bloom ing with culture and refinement. A hero in his boyhood, when Greene was leading his southern army to the relief of the Carolinas, he was in Congress the first representative of a new State, when Washington was President; and when the successors of that chieftain, Adams and Jefferson, had at length disappeared from the earthly scene in extreme old age, he, a man more of the future than the past, sat in the same great seat of authority, with an influence not inferior to theirs. Surrounded by these circum stances, in the rapid development of national life, in the infancy and prog ress of the country, if he had been a common man he would have acquired distinction from his position; but it was his character to form circumstances as well as profit by them. There are few cases in all history where, under adverse conditions, the man was so master of fortune. The simplest recital of his life carries with it an air almost of romance; his success mocked the wisdom of his contemporaries, and will tax the best powers of the future histo rians of America in its analysis. Andrew Jackson was of Irish parent- ag3. His father, of the same name, be- 92 I ANDREW JACKSON. 93 to a Protestant family in humble lif , which had been long settled at CarrickfergUB, in the north of Ireland, whence he brought his wife and two O children to America, in 1765. They were landed at Charleston, South Caro lina, and proceeded at once to the up per region of the country, on the Ca- tawba, known as the Waxhaw settle ment. They came as poor emigrants to share the labors of their friends and countrymen who were settled in the district. Andrew Jackson, the elder, began his toilsome work in clearing the land on his plot at Twelve Mile Creek, a branch of the Catawba, in what is now known as Union County, North Carolina, but had barely established himself by two years labor when he died, leaving his widow to seek a re fuge with her brother-in-law in the O neighborhood. A few days after her husband s death, on the 15th March, 1767, she brought forth a third son, Andrew, of whose life we are to give an account. The father having left little, if any, means of support for his family, the mother found a permanent home with another brother-in-law named Crawford, who resided on a farm just over the border in South Carolina. There the boyhood of Jackson was passed in the pursuits incident to youth, in frontier agricultural life. His phy sical powers were developed by healthy sports and exercise, and his mind re ceived some culture in the humble ru diments of education in the limited schooling of the region. It is probable that something better was intended for him than for most of the boys in his position, since we hear of his being at an Academy at Charlotte, and of his mother s design to prepare him for the calling of a Presbyterian clergyman. Such, indeed, might well have been his prospects, for he had a nature capable of the service, had not the war of the Revolution, now breaking out afresh in the South, carried him in quite a different direction. In 1779 came the invasion of South Carolina, the ruthless expedition of Pre- vost along the seaboard preceding the arrival of Clinton, and the fall of Charles ton. The latter event occurred in May of the following year, and Corn wall is was free to cany out his plan for the subjugation of the country. Sending Tarleton before him, the very month of the surrender of the city, the war of devastation was earned to the border of the State, to the very home of Jack son. The action at the Waxhaws was one of the bloodiest in a series of bloody campaigns, which ended only with the final termination of hostilities. It was a massacre rather than a battle, as Ame rican blood was poured forth like water. The mangled bodies of the wounded were brought into the church of the settlement, whore the mother of the young Jackson, then a boy of thir teen, with himself and brother he had but one now, Hugh having already joined the patriots and fallen in the affair at Stono attended the sick and dying. That " gory bed " of war, con secrated by the spot where his father had worshi ])])ed, and near which he re posed in lasting sleep, summoned the boy to his baptism of blood. lie was not the one to shrink from the encoun ter. We accordingly find him on hand ANDREW JACKSON. at Sumtcr s attack, in the following August, on the enemy s post at Hang ing Rock, accompanying Major Davies North Carolina troop to the fight, though he does not appear to have en gaged in the battle. A few days after, O O / t Gates was defeated at Camden, and Mrs. Jackson and her children fled be fore the storm of war to a refuge in the northern part of the district. The es cape was but temporary, for, on her re turn in the spring, her boys Were entangled, as they could not well fail to be in that region, in the desultory, seldom long intermitted partisan war fare which afflicted the Carolinas. In the preparation for one of the frequent skirmishes between Whig and Tory, the two brothers were surprised, es caped in flight, were betrayed and- cap tured. It was on this occasion that the scene, often narrated, occurred, of the indignity offered by the British officer, met by the spirited resistance of the youth. Andrew was ordered by the officer, in no gentle tone, to clean his boots. He refused peremptorily, plead ing his rights as a prisoner of war, an argument which brought down a re joinder in a sword-thrust on head and arm raised for protection, the marks of which the old hero bore to his last day. A similar wound, at the same time, for a like offence, was the cause of his bro ther s death. Their imprisonment at Camden was most cruel ; severely wounded, without medicine or care, with but little food, exposed to conta gion, they were brought forth by their mother, who followed them and man aged their exchange. Few scenes of war can be fancied, more truly heroic and pitiful than the picture presented by Mr. Parton, in his faithful biogra phy of this earnest, afflicted, patriotic mother receiving her boys from the dungeon, " astonished and horrified " at their worn, wasted appearance. The elder was so ill as not to be able to sit on horseback without help, and there was no place for them in those troubled times but their distant home. It was forty miles away. Two horses, with difficulty we may suppose, were pro cured. " One she rode herself. Robert was placed on the other, and held in his seat by the returning prisoners, to whom his devoted mother had just given liberty. Behind the sad proces sion, poor Andrew dragged his weak and weary limbs, bareheaded, barefoot ed, without a jacket." Before the long journey was thus painfully accom plished, " a chilly, drenching, merciless rain " set in, to add to its hardships. Two days after, Robert died, and An drew was, happily, perhaps, insensible to the event in the delirium of the small pox, which he had contracted in prison. What will not woman under take of heroic charity ? This mother of Andrew Jackson had no sooner seen her surviving boy recovered by her care, than she set off with two other ma trons, on foot, traversing the long dis tance to Charleston to carry aid and consolation to her nephews and friends immured in the deadly prison-ships in the harbor. She accomplished her er rand, but died almost in its execution, falling ill of the ship fever at the house of a relative in the vicinity of the city. Thus sank into her martyr s grave, this woman, worthy to be the mother of a ANDREW JACKSON. 95 , Iciivinir her son Andrew, "before reaching his fifteenth birth-day, an or phan; a sick and sorrowful orphan, a homeless and dependent orphan, an orphan of the Revolution." l The youth remained with one of the Crawfords till a quarrel with an Ame rican commissary in the house this lad of spirit would take indignity nei ther from friend nor foe drove him to another relative, whose son being in tin- saddler s trade, led him to some six months en^a^ement in this mecha- O O nical pursuit. This was followed by a somewhat eager enlistment in the wild youthful sports or dissipations of the day, siu-h as cockfighting, racing and gamb ling, which inisjht have wrecked a less re- O* O s< ilute victim; but his strength to get out of this dangerous current was happily superior to the force which impelled lii in into it, and he escaped. He even took to study and became a schoolmas ter, not over competent in some re spects, but fully capable of imparting what he had learnt in the rude old field schools of the time. We doubt not he put energy into the vocables, as the row of urchins stood before him, and energy, like the orator s action, is more than books to a schoolmaster. A year or two spent in this way, not without some pecuniary profit, put him on the track of the law, for which there is always an opening in the business arising from the unsettled land titles of a new country, to say no- 1 Farton s Life of Jackson, I. 95. We may here make a general acknowledgment for the aid we have received in this sketch from Mr. Parton s exhaustive narrative. He has far exceeded all previous biographers in the dili gence of hia investigations, and those who write after Uim of Jackson must needs follow in his steps. thing of those personal strifes and tra ditions which follow man wherever he goes. The youth he was yet hardly eighteen accordingly offered himself to the most eminent counsel in the re gion that is, within a hundred miles or so alighting at the law ofiice of Mr. Spence McCay, a man of note at Salis bury, North Carolina, There he passed 1785 and the following year, studying probably more than he has had credit for, his reputation as a gay young fel low of the town being better remem bered, as is natural, than his ordinary office routine. He had also the legal instructions of an old warrior of the Revolution, brave Colonel Stokes, a good lawyer and mixture of the soldier and civilian, who must have been quite to Andrew Jackson s taste. Thus for tified, with the moderate amount of learning due his profession in those days, he was licensed and began the practice of the law. His biographer, Mr. Parton, pleased with having brought him thus far successfully on the stage of life, stops to contemplate his subject at .full length. His points may be thus summed up : "A tall fellow, six feet and an inch in his stockings ; slender, but graceful ; far from handsome, with a long, thin, fair face, a high and naiTOW forehead, abundant, red dish-sandy hair, falling low over it hair not yet elevated to the bristling aspect of later days eyes of a deep blue, brilliant when aroused, a bold rider, a capital shot." As for the moral qualities which he adds to these physical traits, the pru dence associated with courage and 96 ANDREW JACKSON. " that omnipotent something which we call a presence," which faithful Kent saw in his old discrowned monarch Lear, as an appeal to service and named " authority," it is time enough to make these reflections when the man shall have proved them by his actions. He will have opportunity enough. After getting his "law," the young advocate took a turn in the miscella neous pursuits of the West, as a store keeper at Martinsville, in Guildford County, keeping up his connection with his profession, it is reported, by performing the executive duties of a constable. He has now reached the age of twenty-one, when he may be said fairly to have entered upon his career, as he received the appointment of solicitor or public prosecutor in the western district of North Carolina, the present Tennessee. This carried him to Nashville, then a perilous journey through an unsettled country, filled with hostile Indians. He arrived at this seat of his future home, whence his country was often to summon him. in her hour of need, in October, 1788, and en tered at once vigorously on the practice of his profession, which was very much an off-hand, extempore affair, requiring activity and resolution more than learn ing, especially in the main duties of his office as collector of debts. A large extent of country was to be traversed in his circuits of the wilderness, on which it was quite as important to be a good woodman as a well-informed jurist. Indeed, there was more fear of the Indian than of the Opposite Coun sel. Jackson had the confidence of the mercantile community behind him, and discharged his duties so efficiently, and withal was so provident of the future which his keen eye foresaw, that he prospered in his fortunes, and in a few years became a considerable landed proprietor. In 1791 an event occurred which be came subsequently a matter of frequent discussion, and which certainly re quired some explanation. Andrew Jackson married at Natchez, on the Mississippi, Mrs. Robards, at the time not fully divorced from her husband, though both Jackson and the lady be lieved the divorce had been pronounced. The error, after the sifting which the affair received when it became a ground of party attack, and the blazing light of a Presidential canvass was thrown upon it, is easily accounted for. The circumstances of the case may be thus briefly narrated : A Colonel Donelson, one of the founders of Nashville, brought with him to that settlement, not many years before, his daughter Rachel, who at the time of Jackson s arrival was married to a Mr. Robards, of Kentucky. The young " solicitor " found the pair living with the lady s mother, Mrs. Donelson, in whose house Jackson became an inmate. Robards appears to have been of a jealous tem perament, and moreover of unsettled habits of living. At any rate, he had hig home apart from his wife, and we presently find him, in the second win ter after Jackson s arrival, applying as a Kentuckian, to the Virginia legisla ture for a divorce. He procured an or der for the preliminary proceedings, which were understood, or rather misun derstood by the people of Tennessee, as ANDREW JACKSON. 97 an authoritative separation. With this view of the matter, as the explanation is given, the marriage took place. The divorce was legally completed in 1*793. "When Jackson then learnt the true state of the case he had the marriage ceremony performed a second time. Dining the whole of the affair from the beginning, though he acted as a friend of the lady, he appears to have conducted himself toward her with the greatest propriety. Indeed, a certain innate sense of delicacy and pure chi valrous feeling toward woman, was al ways a distinctive trait of his character. It was constantly noticed by those most intimate with him, as a remarka ble characteristic, in a man roughly taking his share in the wild pursuits and dissipations of the day. He was no doubt early an admirer of the lady, whose gay, spirited qualities and ad venturous pioneer life were likely to fascinate such a man, and made no secret of his contempt for the husband, threatening on one occasion, w r hen he was pestered by his jealousies, to cut out his ears. The story of his mamage was of coirfse variously interpreted, but he allowed no doubtful intimations of the matter in his presence. It was a duel or war to the knife when any hes itation on that subject was brought to his hearing. The region into which Jackson had emigrated, having passed through its territorial period, when the solicitor became attorney general, reached its majority in a State name and govern ment of its own in 1796. He was one of the delegates to the convention at Kiioxville, which formed the consti- 13 tution of Tennessee, and one of the two members of each county, to whom was intrusted the drafting of that instru ment. When the State was admitted into the Union, Andrew Jackson was chosen its first, and, at that time, only representative to Congress. lie took his seat at the beginning of the session, at the close of the year, and was con sequently present to receive the last opening message of George Washing ton, it being usual in those days for the President to meet both houses to gether at the commencement of their sitting, and deliver his speech in per son what is now the President s mes sage. In like manner, according to the usage of the English Parliament, a re ply was prepared and voted upon by each house, which was carried in per son by the members to the President s mansion. The reply, in this instance, proposed in the House of Representa tives by the Federalist committee, was thought too full an indorsement of the policy of the administration, and met with some opposition from the Repub lican minority, Andrew Jackson ap pearing as one of tw r elve, by the side of Edward Livingston, and William B. Giles, of Virginia, voting against it. He did not speak on the question, and his vote may be regarded simply as an indi cation of his party sentiments, though, had he "been an ardent admirer of Wash ington, he might, spite of his Tennessee politics, have voted with Gallatin for the original address. That he did not, O does not imply necessarily any disaffec tion to Washington ; but there was pro bably little of personal feeling in the matter to be looked for from him. The 98 ANDREW JACKSON. independent life of the South and West had never leaned, as the heart of the Eastern and Atlantic regions, upon the right arm of Washington. The only question upon which he spoke during the session was in favor of assuming certain expenses incurred in an Indian expedition in his adopted State ; and the resolution which he advocated was adopted. His votes are recorded in favor of appropriations for the navy, and against the black mail paid to Al giers. His success in the Indian bill was well calculated to please his con stituents, and he was accordingly re turned the next year to the Senate. It was the first session of the new admin istration, and all that is told of his ap pearance on the floor is the remark of Jefferson in his old age to Daniel Webster, that he had often seen him, from his Vice President s chair, attempt to speak, and "as often choke with rage." Mr. Parton adds to this recollec tion the bare fact that he made the acquaintance of Duane of the " Au rora," Aaron Burr and Edward Liv ingston. He retired before the end of the session, and resigned his seat. Private affairs called him home ; but he could not have been well adapt ed to senatorial life, or he did not like the position, else he would have man aged to retain it. It was an honor not to be thrown away lightly by an ambi tious young man. We next behold him chosen by the legislature a judge of the Supreme Court of Tennessee a post, one would think, of severer requisitions than that of United States senator, since a mem ber of a legislative body may give a silent vote or be relieved of an onerous committee, while the occupant of the bench is continually called upon to ex ercise the best faculties of the mind. It is to Jackson s credit that he held the position for six years, during which, as population flowed into the State and interests became more involved, the requisitions of the office must have been continually becoming more exact ing. Its duties carried him to the chief towns of the State, where he was exposed to the observation of better read lawyers than himself. As no re cord was kept of his decisions, we have to infer the manner in which he ac quitted himself from what we know of his qualifications. He no doubt made himself intelligible enough on simple questions and decided courageously and honestly what he understood ; but in any nice matter he must have been at fault from want of skill in statement, if we may judge of his talents in this respect by his printed correspondence, which is ill spelt, ungramniatical and confused. His personal energy,-however, doubt less helped him on occasion, as in the famous anecdote of his arrest of Russell Bean. This strong villain, infuriated by his personal wrongs, was at war with society, and bade defiance to jus tice. It was necessary that he should be brought before the court where Jackson presided, but it was pro nounced impossible to arrest him. The sheriff and his posse had alike failed, when the difficulty was solved by the most extraordinary edict which ever issued from the bench. " Summon me," said the judge to the law officer. It ANDREW JACKSON. was done and the* arrest was made. It is curious to read of a judge of the Su preme Court planning duels and rough personal encounter with the governor of the State, as we do of Judge Jack son in his quarrel with Governor Se- vier. No stronger evidence could be O afforded of the imperfect social condi tion of the country. It was a rude, un finished time, when life was passed in a fierce personal contest for supremacy, and wrongs real and imaginary were righted at sight by the pistol. This period of Jackson s career, including the ten years following the retirement from the bench, are filled with prodi gious strife and altercation. The duel ling pistols are always in sight, and dreary are the details of wretched personal quarrels preliminary to their use. The first of these encounters in which Jackson was a principal occurred as early as 1795, when he was engaged in court and challenged the opposite counsel on the spot for some scathing remark, writing his message on the blank leaf of a law book. Shots were exchanged before the parties slept. The most prominent of Jackson s alter cations, however, was his duel with Dickinson, a meeting noted among nar ratives of its class for the equality of the combat, and the fierce hostility of the parties. It was fought in 1806, on the banks of Red River in Kentucky. Charles Dickinson was a thriving young lawyer of Nashville, who had used some invidious expressions regarding Mrs. Jackson. These were apologized for and overlooked when a roundabout quarrel arose out of the terms of a ! horse race, which, after involving Jack- sou in a caning of one of the parties, and his friend Coffee in a duel with another, ended in bringing the former in direct collision with Dickinson. A duel was arranged. The principals were to be twenty-four feet apart, and take their time to fire after the word was given. Both were excellent shots, and Dickinson, in particular, was sure of his man. So certain was Jackson of being struck, that he made up his mind to let his antagonist have the first fire, a deliberate conclusion of great courage and resolution, based on a very nice calculation. lie knew that his antagonist would be quicker than himself at any rate, and that if they fired together his own shot would probably be lost in consequence of the stroke he must undoubtedly receive from the coming bullet. He conse quently received the fire, and was hit as he expected to be. The ball, aimed at his heart, broke a rib and grazed the breast bone. His shoes were filling with blood as he raised his pistol, took deliberate aim, re-adjusted the trigger as it stopped at half cock, and shot his adversary through the body. Dickin son fell, to bleed to death in a long day of agony. Jackson desired his own wound to be concealed, that his opponent might not have the gratifica tion of knowing that he had hit him at all. Such was the courage and such the revenge of the man. 1 After leaving the judgeship, Jackson he was now called General Jackson, 1 The details of this affair with all its preliminaries, oc cupy forty octavo pages of Mr. Parton s narrative a curious and most instructive pictur of the times. 100 ANDREW JACKSON. having been chosen by the field officers major general of the State militia in 1801, gaining the distinction by a sin gle vote employed himself on his plantation, the Hermitage, near Nash ville, and the storekeeping in which he had been more or less engaged since his arrival in the country. In partner ship with his relative, Coffee, he was a large exchanger of the goods of the West for the native produce, which he shipped to New Orleans ; and it was for his opportunities of aiding him in procuring provisions, as well as for his general influence, that Colonel Burr cultivated his acquaintance in his west ern schemes in 1805, and the following year. General Jackson, at first fasci nated by the man, who stood well with the people of the country as a republi can, introduced him into society and entertained him at his house ; but when suspicion was excited by. his measures, he was guarded in his inter course, and stood clearly forth on any issue which might arise, involving the preservation of the integrity of the Union. On that point no friendship could bribe him. Accordingly he offered his services to President Jeffer son, and, receiving orders to hold his command in readiness, there was great military bustle of the major general in Nashville, raising and reviewing com panies, to interrupt the alarming pro ceedings of Colonel Burr on the Ohio. When it was found that there was no thing formidable to arrest, Jackson s feeling of regard for Burr revived, he acquitted him of any treasonable in tent, and resolutely took his part dur ing the trial at Richmond. On the breaking o,ut of the war with England, in 1812, General Jackson was one of the first to tender his services to the President. He called together twenty-five hundred volunteers and placed them at the disposal of the Government. The proffer was accept ed, and in December Jackson was set in motion at the head of two thousand men to join General Wilkinson, then in command at New Orleans. The season was unusually cold and incle- jnent ; but the troops, the best men of the State, came together with alacrity, and by the middle of February were at Natchez, on the Mississippi. Jack son s friend and relative, Colonel Cof fee, led a mounted regiment overland, while the rest descended the river. Colonel Thomas H. Benton also ap pears on the scene as General Jackson s aid. At Natchez, the party was ar rested by an order from Wilkinson, and remained in inaction for a mouth, when a missive came from the War Depart ment disbanding the force. Thus was nipped in the bud the ardent longing of the general, and the promise of one of the iinest bodies of men ever raised in the country. Jackson, taking the responsibility, resolved that they should not be dismissed till, as in duty bound, he had returned them home. He ac cordingly led them back by land, and so solicitous was he for their welfare by the way, so jealous of their rights, carelessly invaded by the government, that his popularity with the men was unbounded. The fiery duellist, " sud den and quick in quarrel," gained by his patient kindness and endurance on that march, the endearing appellation. ANDREW JACKSON. 101 destined to be of world-wide fame Old Hickory. lie had taken, as we have said, the responsibility in bringing home the troops. This involved an assumption of their debts by the way, for it was not certain, though to be presumed, that the government would honor his drafts for the expenses of transporta tion. It did not. The paper was pro tested and returned upon his hands. In this strait, Colonel Benton, going to Washington, undertook the manage ment of the affair, and by a politic ap peal to the fears of the administration, lest it should lose the vote of the State, secured the payment. As he was about returning to Nashville, waTrned by this act of friendship, he received word from his brother that General Jackson had acted as second in a duel to that brother s adversary a most ungracious act, as it appeared, at a moment when the claims of gratitude should have been uppermost. The explanation was that Carroll, who received the challenge, was unfairly assailed, and appealed, as a friend, to the generosity of Jackson to protect him. Taking a duel very much as an everyday affair, the latter proba bly thought little of the absent Benton. The meeting came off, and Jesse Ben- ton was wounded. An angry letter was written to Jackson by his brother, who came on to Nashville, venting his wrath in the most denunciatory terms for Benton s vocabulary of abuse, though not more condensed, was more richly furnished with expletives than that of his general. This coming to the hearing of Jackson, he swore his big oath, "by the Eternal, that he would horsewhip Tom Benton the first time he met him." The Bentons knew the man, did not despise the threat, but waited armed for the onset. It came off one day at the door of the City Ho tel in Nashville. There were several persons actors and victims in the affair. These are the items of the miserable business. The two Bentons are in the doorway as Jackson and his friend Co lonel Coffee approach. Jackson, with a word of warning to Benton, brandish es his riding-whip ; the Colonel fum bles for a pistol ; the General presents his own, and at the instant receives in his arm and shoulder a slug and bullet from the barrel of Jesse Benton, who stands behind. Jackson is thus dropped, weltering in his blood with a desperate wound. Coffee thereupon thinking Tom Benton s pistol had done the work, takes aim at him, misses fire, and is making for his victim with the butt end, when an opportune cellar stair way opens to the retreating Colonel, who is precipitated to the bottom. Meanwhile Stokely Hays arrives, intent on plunging the sword, which he drew from his cane, into the body of Jesse Benton. He deals the thrust with unc tion, but striking a button, its force is lost and the weapon shivered. A struggle on the floor then ensues be tween the parties, the fatal dagger of Hays being raised to transfix his wound ed victim, when it is intercepted by a bystander, and the murderous and bloody work is over. Such was the famous Benton feud. It laid Jackson ingloriously up for several weeks, and drove Colonel Benton to Missouri There was a long interval of mutual 102 ANDREW JACKSON. hostile feeling, to be succeeded by a devoted friendship of no ordinary in tensity. This Benton affray took place on the 4th of September, 1813. A few days before, on the 30th of August, oc curred the massacre by the Creek In dians of the garrison and inhabitants at Fort Minims, a frontier post in the southern part of Alabama. A large number of neighboring settlers, anxious for their safety, had taken refuge with in the stockade. The assailants took it by surprise, and though the defend ers fought with courage, but few of its inhabitants escaped the terrible car nage. The Indians were led by a re doubtable chieftain, named Weathers- ford, the son of a white man and a Se- minole mother, a leader of sagacity, of great bravery and heroism, and of no ordinary magnanimity. He was unable, however, to arrest, as he would, the fiendish atrocities committed at the fort. Women and children were sacrificed in the horrible rage for slaugh ter, and the bloody deed was aggrava ted by the most indecent mutilations. A cry was spread through the South west similar to that raised in our own day in India, at the Sepoy brutalities. Vengeance was demanded alike for safety and retribution. On the 18th of September the news had reached Nashville, four hundred miles distant, and General Jackson was called into consultation as he sat, utterly disabled with his Benton wounds, in his sick room. It was resolved that a large body of volunteers should be sum moned, and, ill as he was, he promised to take command of them when they were collected. Still suffering severely, before they were ready to move he joined them at Fayetteville, the place of meeting. He arrived in camp the seventh of October, and bearan his O work of organizing the companies. Everything was to be done in drill and preparation for the advance into a wil derness where no supplies were to be had ; yet in four days, a report having reached him that the enemy were ap proaching, he led his troops, about a thousand men, an afternoon march of thirty-two miles in six hours to Hunts- ville. The Indians, however, were not yet at hand, and joining Colonel Coffee, whom he had sent forward with a cav alry command, on the banks of the Tennessee, he was reluctantly com. pelled to wait there too long a time for his impatience, till something could be done in providing stores, in which the army was lamentably deficient. A post was established on the river named Fort Deposit, whence Jackson, still inadequately provided, set out, on the twenty-fifth of the month, on his southward march, and carried his force to an encampment at Ten Islands, on the Coosa River. There Coffee was detached to attack a body of In dians at their town of Talluschatches. He performed the service with equal skill and gallantry ; and though the Creeks, as they did throughout the war, fought with extraordinary valor, urged on by religious fanaticism, he gained a brilliant victory. One of the incidents of the bloody field was the accidental slaughter of an Indian mo ther clasping her infant to her breast. The child was carried to Jackson, who ANDREW .JACKSON. 103 had it tenderly cared for, and finally taken to his home. The boy, named Lincoyer, was brought up at the Her mitage, and suitably provided for by the general. The next adventure of the campaign was an expedition led by Jackson him self to relieve a^ camp of friendly In dians at Talladega, invested by a large band of hostile Creeks. The very night on which he received the message asking aid, brought by a runner who had escaped from the beleaguered fort in disguise, he started with a force of two thousand men, eight hundred of whom were mounted, and in a long day s march through the wilderness traversed the intervening distance, some thirty miles, to the neighborhood of the fort. The dawn of the next morning saw him approaching the ene my a thousand picked warriors. Dis posing the infantry in three lines, he placed the cavalry on the extreme wiugs, to advance in a curve and in close the foe in a circle. A guard was sent forward to challenge an engage ment. The Indians received its fire and followed in pursuit, when the front line was ordered up to the combat. There was some misunderstanding, and a portion of the militia composing it retreated, when the general promptly supplied their place by dismounting a corps of cavalry kept as a reserve. The militia then rallied, the fire became general, and the enemy were repulsed in every direction. They were pursued by the cavalry and slaughtered in great numbers, two hundred and ninety Ix-iiiiC Ifft dead on the field and many more bore the marks of the engagement. The American loss was fifteen killed and eighty-five wounded. The friendly Creeks came forth from the fort to thank their deliverers, and share with them their small supply of food. This was emphatically, contrary to all the rules of war, a hungry campaign. On his return to his camp, to which, having been fortified, the name Fort Strother was given, Jackson found the supplies which he had urgently demand ed, and which he so much needed, not yet arrived. His private stores, which had been bought and forwarded at his expense, were exhausted to relieve the wants of his men. He himself, with his officers, subsisted on unseasoned tripe, like the poor and proud Spanish grandee in the Adventure of Lhzarillo de Tonnes, eulogizing the horse s foot, maintaining that he liked nothing bet ter. The story is told of a starving soldier approaching him at this time with a request for food. " I will give you," said the general, " what I have," and with that he drew from his pocket a few acorns, " my best and only fare." * Food, food, was the constant ciy of Jackson in his messages to the rulers in the adjoining States. It was long in coming, and in the meanwhile the commander, eager to follow up his suc cesses and close the war, was con demned to remain in inactivity the hardest trial for a man of his temper. Scant subsistence and the hardships common to all encampments brought discontent. The men longed to be at home, and symptoms of revolt began to appear. The militia actually coin- 1 Eaton s Life of Jnr! son, p. 6C 104 ANDREW JACKSON. menced their march backward ; but they Lad reckoned without their leader. On starting they found the volunteers drawn up to oppose their progress, and abandoned their design. Such was the force of Jackson s authority in the camp, that when these volunteers, who were in reality disappointed that the. movement did not succeed, attempted in their turn to escape, they were in like manner met by the militia. The occasion required all Jackson s ingenu ity and resolution, and both were freely expended. His iron will had to yield something in the way of compromise. Appealing to his men, he secured a band of the most impressible to remain at Fort Strother, while he led the rest in quest" of provisions toward Fort De posit. The understanding was that they were to return with him when food was obtained. They had not gone far when they met a drove of* cat tle on their way to the camp. A feast was enjoyed on the spot ; but the men were still intent on going homeward. Nearly the whole brigade was ready for motion, when Jackson, who had ordered their return, was informed of their intention. His resolution was taken on the instant. He summoned his staff, and gave the command to fire on the mutineers if they attempted to proceed. One company, already on the way, was thus turned back, when, going forth alone among the men, he found the movement likely to become general. There was no choice in his mind but resistance at the peril of his life, for the men once gone, the whole campaign was at an end. Seizing a musket, he rested the barrel on the neck of his horse he was unable, from his wound, to use his left arm and threatened to shoot the first who should attempt to advance. An intimation of this kind from Jackson was never to be despised. The men knew it, and re turned to their post. They yielded to the energy of a superior mind, but they were not content. Their next resource was, an assertion of the termi nation of their year s enlistment, which they said would expire on the tenth of December ; but here they were met by the astute lawyer, who reminded them that they were pledged to s^rve one year out of two, and that the year must be an actual service in the field of three hundred and sixty-five days. The argument, however, failed to con vince, and as the day approached the men were more resolute for their de parture. They addressed a courteous letter to their commander, to which he replied in an earnest expostulatory ad dress. " I know not," he said, " what scenes will be exhibited on the tenth instant, nor what consequences are to flow from them here or elsewhere ; but as I shall have the consciousness that they are not imputable to any mis conduct of mine, I trust I shall have the firmness not to shrink from a dis charge of my duty." The appeal was not heeded, and on the evening of the ninth the signs of mutiny were not to be mistaken. The general took his measures accordingly. He ordered all officers and soldiers to their duty, and stationed the artillery company with their two pieces in front and rear, while he posted the militia on an eminence in advance. He himself rode along ANDREW JACKSON. 105 the line and addressed the men, in their companies, with great earnestness. I If talked of the disgrace their conduct o would bring upon themselves, their families and country ; that they would succeed only by passing over his dead body : while he held out to them the prospect of reinforcements. " I am too," he said, " in daily expectation of receiving information whether you may be discharged or not ; until then, you must not and shall not retire. I have done with entreaty ; it has been used long enough. I will attempt it no more. 5f ou must now determine whe ther you will go, or peaceably remain : if you still persist in your determina tion to move forcibly off, the point be tween us shall soon be decided." There was hesitation. He demanded a posi tive answer. Again a slight delay. The artillerist was ordered to prepare the match. The word of surrender parsed along the line, and a second time the rebellious volunteers suc cumbed to the will of their master. These, it should be stated, were the very men, the original company, whom Jackson had earned to Natchez, and for whose welfare on their return he had pledged his property. But in vain he reminded them of the fact, and ap pealed to their sense of generosity to remain in the service. He gave them finally the choice to proceed to Tennes see or remain with him. They chose the former, and he let them go. The men he had left with him were enlisted for short periods, or so under stood it. There was little to build upon for the campaign, and he was even advised by the Governor of Ten 14 69, to abandon the prosecution of the war, at least for the present, or till the administration at Washington should provide better means for carry ing it on. This was not advice, des perate as appeared the situation, to be accepted by Jackson. His reply was eminently characteristic charged with a determined self-reliance which he sought to infuse into his correspondent. "Take the responsibility" is written all over it. "If you would preserve your reputation," he writes, " or that of the State over which you preside, you must take a straightforward, deter mined course ; regardless of the ap plause or censure of the populace, and of the forebodings of that dastardly and designing crew, who, at a time like this, may be expected to clamor con tinually in your ears. The very wretches who now beset you with evil counsel, will be the first, should the measures which they recommend event uate in disaster, to call down impreca tions on your head, and load you with reproaches. Your country is in dan ger: apply its resources to its defence! Can any course be more plain ? Do you, my friend, at such a moment as the present, sit with your arms folded and your heart at ease, waiting a solu tion of your doubts and a definition of your powers ? Do you wait for spe cial instruction from the Secretary of War, which it is impossible for you to receive in time for the danger that threatens?" The governor had said that his power ceased with the call for troops. "Widely different," replies Jackson, " is my opinion. You are to see that they come when they are 106 ANDREW JACKSON. called. Of what avail is it," lie urges with an earnestness savoring of sarcasm, " to give an order if it be never executed, and may be disobeyed with impunity ? Is it by empty mandates that we can hope to conquer our enemies and save our defenceless frontiers from butchery and devastation? Believe me, my valued friend, there are times when it is highly criminal to shrink from responsibility or scruple about the exercise of our powers. There are times when we must disregard punctilious etiquette and think only of serving our country." He also presented, in like forcible terms, the injurious eifects of abandon ing the frontiers to the mercy of the savage. The governor took the advice to heart, pointedly as it was given ; he ordered a fresh force of twenty-five hundred militia into the field, and seconded General Jackson s call upon General Cocke for the troops of East Tennessee. Meantime, however, Jack son s force at Fort Strother was re duced to a minimum ; the militia, en listed for short terms, would go, and there was great difficulty in getting new recruits on to supply their places. The brave Coffee failed to reenlist his old regiment of cavalry. There was a strange want of alacrity through the early period of this war, in raising and disciplining the militia. With a pro per force at his command, duly equipped and supplied, Jackson would have brought the savages to terms in a month. As it was, nearly a year elapsed ; but the fighting period, when he was once ready to move, was of short duration. While he was waiting for the new Tennessee enlistments, he determined to have one brush with the enemy with such troops as he had. He according ly set in motion his little force of eight hundred raw recruits on the fifteenth of January, on an excursion into the Indian territory. At Talladega he was joined by between two and three hun dred friendly Cherokees and Creeks, with whom he advanced against the foe, who were assembled on the banks of the Tallapoosa, near Emuckfau. He reached their neighborhood on the night of the twenty-first, and prepared his camp for an attack before morning. The Indians came, as was expected, about dawn ; were repulsed, and when daylight afforded the opportunity, were pursued with slaughter. There was another sharp conflict about the middle of the day, which ended in a victory for the Americans, at some cost to the conquerors, who, ill prepared to keep the field, moved back toward the fort. Enotochopco Creek was reached and crossed by a part of the force, when the Indians fell upon the rear guard, who turned and fled ; the artil lery, however, still left on that side of the river, gave the savages a warm re ception, when they were pursued by the cavalry, which had recrossed the stream. By this time the country was* roused to some adequate support of its gene ral in the field. At the end of Febru ary, Jackson was reinforced by the ar rival at Fort Strother of a force from East and West Tennessee of about five thousand men. By the middle of the next month he was in motion, terribly in earnest for a short and summary ex- ANDREW JACKSON. 107 tirpation of the savages. The execu tion of John Woods, a Tennessee youth who had shown v some insubordi nation in camp, was a prelude to the | approaching tempest. The commander thought it necessary to the unity and integrity of the service. Fortunately for the purposes of this new invasion, the chief warriors of the nation assem bled themselves at a place convenient enough for defence, but where defeat was ruin. It was at Tohopeka, an In dian name for the horse-shoe bend of the Tallapoosa, an area of a hundred acres inclosed by the deep waters of the river and protected at its junction with the land by a heavy breastwork of logs pierced for musketry and skijl- fully arranged for defence. Within this inclosure, at the time of Jackson s arrival, on the twenty-seventh of March, with less than three thousand men, in cluding a regiment of regulars under Colonel Williams, were assembled some eight or nine hundred warriors of the Creeks. The plan of attack was thus arranged. Sending General Coffee to the opposite side of the river to effect a diversion in that quarter, Jackson himself directed the assault on the works at the neck. He had two field pieces, which were advantageously planted on a neighboring eminence. His main reliance, however, was at close quarters with his musketry. On the river side General Coffee succeeded in inclosing the bend and cutting off escape by the canoes, .which he cap tured by the aid of his friendly In dians, and used as a means of landing in the rear of the enemy s position. This success was the signal for the as sault in front. Regulars and volun- teers, eager for the contest, advance. 1 boldly up. Reaching the rampart, the struggle was for the port-holes, through which to fire, musket meeting musket in the close encounter. " Many of the enemy s balls," says Eaton, " were welded between the muskets and bay onets of our soldiers. Major Montgo mery, of Williams s regiment, led the way on the rampart, and fell dead sum moning his men to follow. Otli<-rs succeeded and the fort was taken. In vain was the fight kept up within, from the shelter of the fallen trees, and equally hopeless was the attempt at escape by the river. No quarter was asked, and none given, for none would be received. Women and children were the only prisoners. It was a des perate slaughter. Nearly the whole band of Indians perished, selling their lives as dearly as possible. The Ame rican loss was fifty-five killed and about thrice the number wounded ; but the Cherokee dead were to be counted by hundreds. Having struck this fearful blow, Jackson retired to Fort Williams, which he had built on his march, and issued, as was his wont he was quite equal to Napoleon in this respect an inspiriting address to his troops. If the words are not always his, the sen timent, as his biographer suggests, is ever Jacksonian. Somebody or other was always found to give expression to his ardent ejaculations, which need only the broad theatre of a European battlefield to vie with the thrilling manifestoes of Bonaparte. " The fiends of the Tallapoosa will no longer mur der our women and children, or disturb 108 ANDREW JACKSON. the quiet of our borders. Their mid night flambeaux will no more illumine their council-house, or shine upon the victim of their infernal orgies." The gratifying event was nearer even than the general anticipated. He looked for a further struggle, but the spirit of the nation was broken. Advancing southward, he joined the troops from the south at the junction of the Coosa and Tallapoosa, the "Holy Ground" of the Indians, where he received their offers of submission. The brave chief tain, Weathersford, voluntarily surren dered himself. A portion of the In dians fled to Florida. Those who were left were ordered to the northern parts of Alabama, Fort Jackson being established at the confluence of the rivers to cut off their communication with foreign enemies on the seaboard. The war had originally grown out of the first English successes and the movements of Tecumseh on the north ern frontier, and was assisted by Span ish sympathy on the Gulf. Jackson was now at liberty to return to Nashville with the troops who had shared his victories. He had of course a triumphant reception in Tennessee, and his services were rewarded at Washington by the appointment of major general in the army of the Unit ed States, the resignation of General Harrison at the moment placing this high honor at the disposal of the gov ernment. It was an honor well de served, earned by long and patient ser vice under no ordinary difficulties difficulties inherent to the position, aggravated by the delays of others, and some, formidable enough to most men, which he carried with him bound up in his own frame. We so naturally associate health and bodily vigor with brilliant military achieve ments that it requires an effort of the mind to figure Jackson as he really was in these campaigns. We have seen him cariying his arm in a sling, unable to handle a musket when he confronted his retiring army ; but that was a slight inconvenience of his wound compared with the gnawing disease which was preying upon his system. " Chronic diarrhoea," says his biographer, " was the form which his complaint assumed. The slightest im prudence in eating or drinking brought on an attack, during which he suffered intensely. While the paroxysm lasted he could obtain relief only by sitting on a chair with his chest against the O back of it and his arms dangling for ward. In this position he was some times compelled to remain for hours. It often happened that he was seized with the familiar pain while on the march through the woods at the head of the troops. In the absence of other means of relief he would have a sap ling half severed and bent over, upon which he would hang with his arms downward, till the agony subsided." 1 In July, General Jackson was again at the South on the Alabama, presid ing at the treaty conference with the Indians. The terms he proposed were thought hard, but he was inexorable in requiring them. The treaty of Fort Jackson, signed on the tenth of Au gust, stripped the Creeks of more than 1 Parton s Jackson,- 1. 547-8. ANDREW JACKSON. 109 half of their possessions, confining them to n region least inconvenient to the peaceful enjoyment of the neigh boring States. "As a national mark of gratitude," the friendly Creeks be- M<i\ved upon General Jackson and his associate in the treaty, Colonel Haw kins, three miles square of land to each, with a request that the United States Government would ratify the uilt : but this, though recommended to Congress by President Madison, was never carried into effect. While the treaty was still under ne gotiation, Jackson was intent on the next movement of the war, which he foresaw would carry him to the shores of the Gulf. He knew the sympathy of the Spaniards in Florida with the English, and was prepared for the de signs of the latter against the southern country. Having obtained informa tion that British muskets were distri buted among the Indians, and that English troops had been landed in Flo rida, lie applied to the Secretary of War, General Armstrong, for permis sion to call out the militia and reduce LVnsacola at once. The matter was left to the discretion of the commander, but the letter conferring the authority did not reach him for six months. In the mean time he felt compelled to take the management of the war into his ou -n hands. Fully aware of the im pending struggle, he was in correspond ence with Governor Claiborne of Lou isiana, putting him on his guard, and with Maurequez, the Spanish governor of Pensacola, calling him to a strict account for his tampering with the enemy. To be nearer the scene of op- crations, he removed, immediately after the conclusion of the treaty, to Mobile, where he could gain the earliest intelli gence of the movements of the British. Learning there, in September, of a threatened visit of the fleet under the orders of Colonel Nichols to Mobile, he called loudly upon the governors of the adjoining States for aid, and gave the word to his adjutant, Colonel But- ler, in Tennessee, to enlist and bring on his forces. They responded eagerly to the call, for the name of Jackson was now identified with glory and vic tory, which they were ambitious to share. His old friend, General Coffee, was their leader. Before they arrived, the fort at the mouth of the bay was put in a state of defence under the command of Major Lawrence, of the United States infantry. In the after noon of the fifteenth of September it was his fortune to maintain the .post against a bombardment by the British fleet of Captain Percy which recalls both the attack and success of the de fenders at Fort Sullivan, in the war of the Revolution. What Moultrie and his brave men did on that day in re pelling the assault of Sir Peter Parker and his ships was now done by Law rence at Fort Bowyer. " Don t give up the fort " was his motto, as " Don t give up the ship " had been uttered by his namesake on "the dying deck" of the Chesapeake, the year before. The fort was not given up. Percy s flag- . ship, the Hermes, was destroyed, and the remainder of his command returned, seriously injured, to Pensacola. General Jackson rejoiced in this vic tory at Mobile, and waited only the 110 ANDREW JACKSON. arrival of his forces to carry the war home to the British in Florida. At the end of October, General Coffee ar rived with twenty-eight hundred men on the Mobile River, where Jackson joined him, and mustering his forces to the number of three thousand, marched on the third of November against Pensacola. Owing to the difficulty of obtaining forage on the way, the caval ry was dismounted. The troops had rations for eight days. On his arri val before the town, beinsr desirous O as far as possible of presenting his movements in a peaceful light, Gene ral Jackson sent a messenger forward to demand possession of the forts to be held by the United States " until Spain, by furnishing a sufficient force, might be able to protect the province and preserve unimpaired her neutral char acter." On approaching the fort the bearer of the nag was fired on and compelled to retire. Aware of the de licacy of his self-imposed undertaking, before proceeding to extremities he sent a second message to the governor, by a Spanish corporal who had been captured on his route. This time, word was brought back that the gov ernor was ready to listen to his propo sals. He accordingly sent Major Piere a second time with his demands. A council was held, and they were re fused. Nothing was then left but to proceed. The town was gained by a simple stratagem. Arranging a por tion of his troops as if to advance directly on his road, he drew the British shipping to a position on that side, when, by a rapid march, he suddenly presented his main force on the other. He consequently entered the town be fore the movement could be met. A street fight ensued, and a barrier was taken, when the governor appeared with a flag of truce. General Jackson met him and demanded the surrender of the military defences, which was conceded. Some delay, however, oc curred, which ended in the delivery of the fortifications, of the town, and the blowing up of the fort at the mouth of the harbor. Having accomplished this feat, the British fleet sailed away before morning. Whither were they bound? To Fort Bowyer and Mobile in all probability, and thither Jack son, leaving the Spanish governor on friendly terms behind him, hastened his steps. Tarrying a few days for the British, who did not come, he took his departure for New Orleans, with his staff, and in a journey of nine days reached the city on the first of Decem ber. If ever the force of a single will, the safety which may be provided for an imperilled people by the confidence of one strong right arm, were fully il lustrated, it would seem to be in the military drama which was enacted in this and the following month on the banks of the Mississippi. Andrew Jackson was the chief actor. Louisia na had brave men in her midst, numer ous in proportion to her mixed popula tion and still unsettled condition, but whom had she, at once with experience and authority, to summon on the in stant out of the discordant materials a band strong enough for her preserva tion ? At the time of General Jack son s arrival a large fleet of the enemy ANDREW JACKSON. Ill was hovering on the coast amply pro vided with every resource of naval and military art, bearing a host of the ve teran troops of England, experienced in the bloody contests under Welling ton an expedition compared with which the best means of defence at hand for the inhabitants of New Or leans resembled the resistance of the reeds on the river bank to Behemoth. It was the genius of Andrew Jackson which made those reeds a rampart of iron. lie infused his indomitable cour age and resolution in the whole mass of citizens. A few troops of hunters, a handful of militia, a band of smugglers, a company of negroes, a group of peace ful citizens stiffened under his inspira tion into an army. Without Jackson, irresolution, divided counsels, and sur render, might, with little reproach to the inhabitants, under the circumstan ces, have been the history of one fatal fortnight. With Jackson all was union, confidence and victory. The instant of his arrival he set about the work of organization, review ing the military companies of the city, selecting his staff, personally examining the approaches from the sea and arrang ing means of defence. He was deter mined that the first step of the enemy on landing should be resisted. This was the inspiration of the military movements which followed, and the Recret of his success. He did not get behind intrenchments and wait for the foe to come up, but determined to go forth and meet him on the way. He was not there so much to defend New Orleans as to attack an army of inso lent intruders and drive them into the B6a They might be tlmus-nids, and his force might be only hundreds, but he knew of but one resolve, to fight to the uttermost, and he pursued the reso lution as if he were revenging a per sonal insult. Events came rapidly on as was anti cipated, an attack was made from the fleet upon the gunboats on Lake Borgne. They were gallantly defend ed, but compelled to surrender. This action took place on the fourteenth of December. Now was the time, if ever, to met the invading host. The spirit of Jackson rose, if possible, yet higher with the occasion. Well knowing that not a man in the city could be spared, and the inefficiency, in such emergencies, of the civil authority, he resolve to take the whole power in his own hands. On the sixteenth, he proclaimed mar tial law. Its effect was to concentrate every energy of the people with a sin gle aim to their deliverance. Two days after, a review was held of the State militia, the volunteer companies, and the battalion of free men of color, when a stirring address was read, penned by the general s secretary, Edward Liv ingston a little smoother than Old Hickory s bulletins in the Alabama wilderness, but not at all uncertain. The Tennessee, Mississippi and Ken tucky recruits had not yet arrived ; but they were on their way, straining every nerve in forced marches to meet the coming danger. Had the British moved with the same energy, the city might have fallen to them. It was not O till the twenty-first, a week after their victory on the lake, that they began their advance, and pushed a portion of 112 ANDREW JACKSON. their force through, the swamps, reach ing a plantation on the river bank, six miles below the city, on the forenoon of the twenty-third. It was past mid day when word was brought to Jack son of their arrival, and within three hours a force of some two thousand men was on the way to meet them. No attack was expected by the enemy that night ; their comrades were below in numbers, and they anticipated an easy advance to the city the next morn ing. They little knew the commander with whom they had to deal. That very night they must be assailed in their position. Intrusting an impor tant portion of his command to General Coffee, who was on hand with his brave Tennesseans, charged with surrounding the enemy on the land side, Jackson himself took position in front on the road, while the Carolina, a war schooner, dropped down on the river opposite the British station. Her can nonade, at half-past seven, throwing a deadly shower of grape-shot into the encampment, was the signal for the commencement of this night struggle. It was a fearful contest in the darkness, frequently of hand to hand individual prowess, particularly where Coffee s riflemen were employed. The forces actually engaged are estimated on the part of the British, including a reinforce ment which they received, at more than twenty -three hundred ; about fifteen hundred Americans took part in the fight. The result, after an engagement of nearly two hours, was a loss to the latter of twenty-four killed, and one hundred and eighty-nine wounded and missing. The British loss was much larger, sustaining as they did the addi tional fire of the schooner. Before daylight, Jackson took up his position at a canal two miles distan,, from the camp of the enemy, and con sequently within four of the city. The canal was deepened into a trench, and the earth thrown back formed an em bankment, which was assisted by the famous cotton bales, a device that proved of much less value than has been generally supposed. A fortnight was yet to elapse before the final and conclusive engagement. Its main inci dents were the arrival of General Sir Edward Pakenham, the commander-in- chief, with General Gibbs, in the British camp, on the twenty-fifth, bring ing reinforcements from Europe ; the occupation by the Americans of a posi tion on the opposite side of the river protecting their camp ; the destruction of the Carolina by red hot shot on the twenty-seventh; an advance of the British, with fearful preparation of artillery, to storm the works the fol lowing day, which was defeated by the Louisiana sloop advantageously posted in the river, and the fire from the American batteries, which were every day gaining strength of men and muni tions ; the renewal of the attack with like ill success on the first of January ; the simultaneous accession to the Ame rican force of over two thousand Ken tucky riflemen, mostly without rifles; a corresponding addition to tho enemy on the sixth, and a general accumula tion of resources on ]?oth sides, in pre paration for the final encounter. On the eighth of January, a last attempt was made on the American front, which ANDREW JACKSON. 118 extended about a mile in a straight line from the river along the canal into the wood. The plan of attack, ^vhirh was well conceived, was to take possession of the American work upon the oppo site bank of the river, turn its guns upon Camp Jackson, and under cover of this diversion scale the embankment, and gain possession of the battery. l Tlic first was defeated by the want of means, and loss of time in getting the necessiry troops across the river; the main attack, owing to some neglect, Avas inadequately supplied with scaling ladders, and the troops were marched up t<> slaughter from the murderous fire of the artillerymen and riflemen from behind the embankment. Throughout * the whole series of engagements, the American batteries, mounting twelve guns of various calibre, were most skil ful ly served. The loss on that day of death was to the defenders but eight killed and thirteen wounded ; that of the assailants in killed, wounded and mi<sing exceeded, in their official re turns t\\<> thousand. 1 A monument in AY< st mi nster Abbey attests the regret of the British public for the death of the cornniander-in-chief, a hero of the Peninsular war, the lamented Paken- ham. Ten days after, having endured vari ous hardships in the meantime, the British army, under the direction of General Lambert, took its departure. On the twenty-first, Jackson broke up his camp with an address to his troops, and returned to New Orleans in tri umph. On the twenty-third, at his 1 Dawson g Battle* of the United States, II. 419. 15 request, a Te Deum was celebrated at the cathedral, when he was received at the door, in a pleasant ceremonial, by a group of young ladies, representing the States of the Union. The conduct of Jackson throughout the month of peril, whilst the enemy was on the land, was such as to secure him the highest fame of a commander. He had not been called upon to make any extensive manoeuvres in the field, but he had taken his dispositions on new ground with a rapid and profound calculation of the resources at hand. His employment of Lafitte and his men of Barrataria, the smugglers whom he had denounced from Mobile as " hellish banditti, 91 is proof of the sagacity with which he accommodated himself to cir cumstances, and his superiority to pre judice. They had a character to gain, and turned their wild experience of gunnery to most profitable account at his battery. His personal exertions and influence may be said to have won the field ; and it should be remembered in what broken health he passed his sleepless nights, and days of constant anxiety. The departure of the British did not | relax the vigilance of the energetic Jackson. Like the English Straffbrd, his motto was " thorough," as the good people of New Orleans learnt before this affair was at an end. He did not abate, in the least, his strict military rule, till the last possible occasion for its exercise had gone by. It was con tinued when the enemy had left, and through days and weeks when as surance of the peace news was estab lished to every mind but his own. He 114 ANDREW JACKSON. chose to have certainty, and the " rigor of the game." In the midst of the ovations and thanksgivings, in the first moments of exultation, he signed the death warrant of six mutineers, de serters, who as long before as Septem ber, had construed a service of the old legal term of three months as a release from their six months engagement; and the severe order was executed at Mobile. In a like spirit of military exactitude, New Orleans being still held under martial law, to the chafing of the citizens, he silenced a newspaper editor who had published a premature, incorrect bulletin of peace; banished the French citizens who were disposed to take refuge from his jurisdiction in their nationality; arrested an impor tant personage, M. Louaillier, a mem ber of the Legislature, who argued the question in print; and when Judge Hall, of the United States Court, granted a writ of habeas corpus, to bring the affair to a judicial investiga tion, he was promptly seized and im prisoned along with the petitioner. The last affair occurred on the fifth of March. A week later, the official news of the peace treaty was received from Washington, and the iron grasp of the general at length relaxed its hold of the city. The civil authority succeeded to the military, when wounded justice asserted its power, in turn, by summon ing the victorious general to her bar, to answer for his recent contempt of court. He was unwilling to be entan gled in legal pleadings, and cheerfully paid the imposed fine of one thousand dollars. He was as ready in submit ting to the civil authority now that the war was over, as he had been decided in exacting its obedience when the safety of the State seemed to him the chief consideration. Thirty years after, the amount of the fine, principal and interest was repaid him. by Congress. The reception of the victorious de fender of New Orleans, on his return to Nashville, and subsequent visit, in au tumn, to the seat of government, was a continual ovation. On his route, at Lynchburgh, in Virginia, he was met by the venerable Thomas Jefferson, who toasted him at a banquet of citi zens. The administration, organizing anew the military defence of the coun try, created him major general of the southern division ,of the army, the whole force being arranged in two de partments, of which the northern was assigned to General Brown. It was not long before the name of Jackson was again to fill the public ear, and impart its terrors alike to the enemy and to his own government. The speck of war arose in Florida, which, what with runaway negroes, hostile Indians, filibustering adventu rers, and the imbecility of the Spanish rule, became a constant source of irrita tion to the adjoining American States. There were various warlike prelimina ries, and at last, towards the end of 1817, a murderous attack by the Semi- noles upon a United States boat s crew ascending the Appalachicola. General Jackson was called into the field, charged with the suppression of the war. Eager for the service, he sprang to the work, and conducted it in his own fashion, "taking the responsibil ity" throughout, summoning volunteers ANDREW JACKSON. 115 t> accompany Mm from Tennessee will i- out the formality of the civil authority, advancing rapidly into Florida after liis arrival at the frontier, capturing the Spanish fort of St. Marks, and push ing thence to the Suwanee. General M lutosli, the half-breed who accompa nied his march, performed feats of valor in the destruction of the Semi- noles. At the former of these places, a trader from New Providence, a Scotch man named Arbuthnot, a superior mem ber of his class, and a pacific man, fell into his hands ; and in the latter, a va grant English military adventurer, one Ambrister. Both of these men were held under arrest, charged with com plicity with the Indian aggressions, and though entirely irresponsible to the American commander of this mili tary raid, were summarily tried under his order by a court-martial on Spanish territory, at. St. Marks, found guilty, and executed by his order on the spot. lie even refused to receive the recon sideration of the court of its sentence of Ambrister, substituting stripes and imprisonment for death. Ambrister was shot, and Arbuthnot hung from the yard-arm of his own vessel in the harbor. During the remainder of Jack son s life, these names rang through the country with a fearful emphasis in the strife of parties. Of the many difficulties in the way of his eulogists, this is, perhaps, the most considerable. His own explanation, that he was per forming a simple act of justice, would seem, with his previous execution of the six mutineers, to rest upon a par tial study of the testimony ; but this responsibility should of course be di vide* 1 with the members of his court- martial. The chief remaining events of the campaign were an angry co: pondencewith the governor of Georgia, in respect to an encroachment on his authority in ordering an attack on an Indian village, and the capture of Pen- sacola, in which he left a garrison. Reckoning day with the government was next in order. The debate in Con gress on the Florida transactions was long and animated, Henry Clay bear ing a conspicuous part in the opposi tion. The resolutions of censure were lost by a large majority in the House. The failure to convict was a virtual vote of thanks. Fortified by the result, the general, who had been in Washington during the debate, made a triumphal visit to Philadelphia and New York. At the latter place he was presented with the freedom of the city in a gold box, which, a topic for one of the poets of the " croakers " at the time, has bo- come a matter of interest since, in the discussion growing out of a provision of the general s will. He left the gift to the bravest of the New York officers in the next war. It was finally be stowed, in 1850, upon General Ward B. Burnett, the colonel of a New York regiment distinguished in the Mexican war. The original presentation took place at the City Hall, in February, 1819. The protracted negotiations with Spain for the purchase of Florida being now brought to an end by the acquisition of the country, General Jackson was appointed by President Monroe the first governor of the Territory. He was present at the formal cession at 116 ANDREW JACKSON. Pensacola, on the 17th of July, 1821, and entered upon his new duties with his usual vigor a vigor in one instance, at least, humorously disproportioned to the scene, in a notable dispute with the Spanish governor, in the course of which there was a fresh imbroglio with a United States judge, and the foreign functionary was ludicrously locked up in the calaboose all about the deliv ery of certain unimportant papers. On a question of authority, it was Jackson s habit to go straight forward without looking to see what important modifying circumstances there might be to the right or left. It was a mili tary trait which served him very well on important occasions in war, and sub sequently in one great struggle, that of the Bank, in peace; but in smaller mixed matters, it might easily lead him astray. For this Don Callava s com edy, we must refer the reader to Mr. Parton s full and entertaining narra tive not the most imposing, but cer tainly not the least instructive portion of his book. The Florida governor ship was not suited to the demands of Jackson s nature ; his powers were too limited and restricted ; the irritation of the Spanish quarrel was not calculated to lighten his disease, and Mrs. Jackson was at his side to plead the superior claims of home. Thither, after a few months absence, he returned, doubtless greatly to the relief of the Secretary of State, Mr. Adams, who said at the time to a friend, " he dreaded the arrival of a mail from Florida, not knowing what General Jackson might do next." * The 1 Parton s Jackson, II. 639. remainder of General Jackson s life may be regarded as chiefly political; it is rather as a man of action in politics, than as a theoretical statesman, in any sense, that he is to be considered. He had certain views in public affairs apart from the army, which were more mat ters of instinct than of reflection or argument. The two great trophies of his administrations, his course towards South Carolina in the preservation of the Union, and his victory over the interests of the United States Bank, were of this character. They were both questions likely to present them selves strongly to his mind. He had an old republican antagonism to paper money, and the corruptions of a large moneyed corporation allied to the government, and having once formed this idea, his military energy came in to carry it out through eveiy availabl means at his disposal. His availability for the Presidency was based upon his popularity with the people wherever they had fairly come in contact with him. The people, above all other qualities, esteem those of a strong, earnest, truthful, straight forward character. They admire force and unity of purpose, and require hon esty. Jackson had these requisites in perfection. There was no mistaking his single aim. It had been displayed on a field where nothing is hidden from the popular eye, where it is even dis posed to exaggeration of what it fairly takes in. In producing a candidate for popular favor in an ordinary election, a great deal is to be done, in common cases, in bringing the public to an un derstanding of his claims. His reputa- ANDREW JACKSON. 117 tion lias, in a measure, to be manufac tured. Voters have to be schooled to his appreciation. But Jackson s fame was already made made by himself. Various things of great importance to the nation were, at different times, to he done, and Jackson had accomplished them. He had freed the land from the savage, and swept the invader from the soil. He had been charged with some errors, but, granting the worst, they had no taint of selfishness or fraud. It he was over rigorous in punishing deserters, and punctilious in his mili- taiy authority, it was a public necessity which nerved his resolution. A few might be sufferers by his ill-directed zeal, but the masses saw only the splen dor of a righteous indignation. It was o o for them the work was done, and the penalty incurred. His worst private vice was that of a duellist, which is always more apt to be associated with principles of honor, than its frequent incentive, unworthy self-assertion. It is not at all surprising that such a man should be summoned to the Pre sidency. He was nominated by the legislature of his own State in 1823, which sent him again to the Senate, and he was highest on the list of the candidates voted for the following o year he had ninety-nine out of two hundred and sixty-one votes when the election was carried into the House of Representatives, and Adams was chosen by the influence of Henry Clay. At the next election, he was borne tri umphantly into the office, receiving more than double the number of votes of his antagonist, Mr. Adams. The vote was one hundred and seventy- eight to eighty-three. At the election of 1832, the third time Jackson s popu larity was tested in this way, the vote stood for Clay forty-nine, for Jackson two hundred and thirty-nine. The record of these eight years of his Presidential service, from 1829 to 1837, is the modern history of the democratic party, of the exertions of its most distinguished representatives, of the establishment of its most che rished principles its anti-bank creed in the overthrow of the national bank, and origination of the subtreasury system, which went into operation with his successor the reduction of the tariff the opposition to internal im provements the payment of the na tional debt. In addition to the settle ment of these long agitated questions, his administration was signalized by the removal of the Gherokees from Georgia, and the Creeks from Florida; while its foreign policy was candid .and vigorous, bringing to a satisfactory adjustment the outstanding claims on France and other nations, and main taining friendly relations with England. In all these measures, his energetic hand was felt, but particularly was his pecu liar character manifested in his veto of 1832, and general conduct of the bank question, the collection of the French indemnity, and his enforcement of the national authority in South Carolina. The censure of the Senate on the 28th March 1834, for his removal of the deposits of the public money from the bank as "an assumption of authority and power not conferred by the Consti tution and laws, but in derogation of both " a censure supported by the ex- 118 ANDREW JACKSON. traordinary coalition of Calhoun, Clay and Webster, measures the extent of the opposition his course encountered in Congress ; while the Expunging Re solution of 1837, blotting out that con demnation, indicates the reception and progress of his opinions with the seve ral States in the brief interim. The personal attack made upon him in 1835, by a poor lunatic at the door of the Capitol, " a diseased mind acted upon by a general outcry against a public man," l may show the sentiment with which a large portion of the press and a considerable popular party habit ually treated him. The love of Andrew Jackson for the Union deserves at this time more than a passing mention. It was em phatically the creed of his head and heart. He had no toleration for those who sought to weaken this great in stinct of nationality. No sophism could divert his understanding from the plainest obligations of duty to his whole country. He saw as clearly as the subtlest logician in the Senate the inevitable tendencies of any argu ment which would impair the alle giance of the people of the States to the central authority. He could not make such a speech as Web ster delivered on the subject, but he knew as well as Webster the abyss into which nullification would plunge its advocates. His vigorous policy saved his own generation the trials to which ours has been subjected. Had his spirit still ruled at the proper mo ment in the national administration, 1 Benton s Thirty Years View, I. 623. we too might have been spared the un told evils of a gigantic rebellion. It is remarkable that it was predicted by him not in its extent, for his patriot ism and the ardor of his temperament would not have allowed him to imagine o a defection so wide-spread, or so la mentable a lack of energy in giving encouragement to its growth but in its motive and pretences. When nulli fication was laid at rest, his keen in sight saw that the rebellious spirit which gave the doctrine birth was not extinguished. He pronounced the tar iff only the pretext of factious and malignant disturbers of the public peace, " who would involve their coun try in a civil war and all the evils in its train, that they might reign and ride OIL its whirlwinds, and direct the storm." Disunion and a southern con federacy, and not the tariff, he said, were the real objects of the conspira tors, adding, with singular sagacity, " the next pretext will be the negro or the slavery question." l Eight years of honorable repose re mained to the victor in so many battles, military and political, after his retire ment from the Presidency. They were passed in his seat near Nashville, the home of his happy married life, but no longer cheered by the warm-hearted, sincere, devout sharer of his many trials. That excellent wife had been taken from him on the eve of his first occupation of the Presidential chair, and her memory only was left, with its inviting lessons of piety, to temper the passions of the true-hearted old man as 1 Letter to the Rv. Andrew J. Crawford. Washing ton, May 1, 1833. ANDREW JACKSON. 119 he resigned himself to religion and the CMTVS of another and better world. lie had early adopted, as his own son, a rjephew of his wife, and the child grew up always fondly cherished by him, bore his name and inherited his estate. " The Hermitage," the seat of a liberal hospitality, never lacked intimates dear to him. He had the good heart of Dr. Johnson in taking to his home and at taching to himself friends who grew strong again in his manly confidence. Thus, in the enjoyment of a tranquil old age, looking back upon a career which belonged to histoiy, he met the increasing infirmities of ill health with pious equanimity, a member of the Presbyterian church, where his wife had so fondly worshipped life slowly ell)ing from him in the progress of his dropsical complaint till one summer day, the eighth of June, 1845, the child of the Revolution, an old man of sev enty-eight, closed his eyes in lasting repose at his beloved Hermitage. The genius and peculiarities of An drew Jackson afford a tempting subject for the pen of the essayist. His reso lute will, strong, fierce and irresistible, resting upon a broad honesty of nature, was paramount. It was directed more by feeling and impulse than by educ.-i- tion and reflection ; consequently there was a spice of egotism even in its pur est resolves, and it sometimes took harsh ways to good ends. Somehow or other it generally had the sanction of success. The integrity of his pub lic life, the great national measures with which his name is identified, will throw into obscurity, on the page of history, his personal weaknesses the violence of his temper, his oaths, his quarrels and occasional seeming want of magnanimity. Strange that so fin ished and courteous a gentleman should at times have been so rude ! An apology has been found in the struggles of his early life, the rough frontier society into which he was in troduced, and the lifelong irritations of disease. That in despite of these tan gible defects, he should, through so great a variety of circumstances, civil and military, have controlled so many strong and subtle elements, and have found so many learned and able men to do his work and assist him in his upward path, is the highest proof of his genius. MARTIN VAN BUREN. MAKTTN- VAN BUREN, the eighth Pre sident of the United States, was born at Kinderhook, Columbia County, New York, December 5th, 1782. His name imports his Dutch descent, his family being among the early settlers who came from Holland to the New Nether lands. Abraham Van Buren, the father of Martin, is spoken of as a farmer in moderate circumstances, u an upright, amiable, and intelligent man, of strong common sense, and distinguished for his pacific disposition." He had little op portunity to bestow upon his son a costly classical education ; but the boy had the benefit of such instruction as the village school and academy afforded, and its course included " some know ledge of Latin." His quickness and in telligence marked him out for the pro fession of the law, the study of which he commenced at the early age of four teen, in the office of Mr. Francis Sylves ter, a highly respectable practitioner at Kinderhook. This apparently prema ture entrance in the training of the pro fession is accounted for by a former regulation of the bar, which required a seven years course of instruction, except in the case of those who had received a collegiate degree, when an allowance was made for the usual four years of the undergraduate course. The young Van Buren was early set to try cases in the Justices Courts, and as it is always in America but a single step from the lawyer s office to the political arena, he found his way when he was but eighteen to a nominating convention of the Republi can party, of a candidate for the State legislature. These and similar employ ments marked the young man while he was yet a student, for future activity and employment in public affairs. This tendency was increased by his engage ment in the last year of his preparatory course in the office of Mr. William P. Van Ness, a distinguished leader of the Republican party in the city of New York, and friend of Aaron Burr. The latter is said to have cultivated the soci ety of the young student at law from Columbia County, and impressed upon him much of his political sagacity in the organization and government of party. In 1803, in his twenty-first year, Mr. Van Buren was admitted to the bar of the Supreme Court of the State, and returned to Kinderhook to begin prac tice at the law. His half-brother, his mother s son by a first marriage, Mr. James I. Van Alen, afterward a mem ber of Congress, was there established as a lawyer, and the two formed at once a business connection. This part- 120 > MARTIN VAN BUREN. 121 , who was somewhat of a politician, was attached to the Federal party, which was the ruling influence in the O county, and many considerations were urged upon young Van Buren to adopt the prevalent creed. He had, however, chosen his path. "Firmly fixed," says his biographer, Mr. Holland, " by reflec tion and observation in the political faith of his father, who was a Whiinn the O Revolution, an anti-Federalist in 1788, and an early supporter of Jefferson, he shrunk not from the severe tests which were applied to the strength and integ rity of his convictions. Without pa tronage, comparatively poor, a plebeian by birth, and not furnished with the advantages of a superior education, he refused to worship either at the shrine of wealth or powep, but followed the dictates of his native judgment and be nevolent feelings, and hesitated not, in behalf of the cause which he thus adopted, to encounter the utmost vio lence of his political enemies. That violence soon burst upon his head with concentrated fury. His character was traduced, his person ridiculed, his prin ciples branded as infamous, his integ rity questioned, and his abilities sneered at." This is one side of the picture the opposition of the Federalists ; it has another, the partisan friendship of the Republicans. The latter gave the young lawyer and politician their support ; he throve in his profession ; was mar ried happily, in 1806, to Miss Hannah Hoes, a distant relative on the mother s side; and in 1808 had his first party reward from the Republican state ad ministration of Governor Tompkins, which he had assisted into office. He 16 received the appointment of surrogate of Columbia County, which induced him to remove to the county seat at Hudson, where he devoted himself assi duously to the bar. In politics, as we have seen, Mr. Van Buren was an active participant from the start as an ardent supporter of the Jeffersonian politics of the day. In the State divisions he attached himself to the fortunes of Governor Tompkins, and was prominent in sustaining his anti-bank policy. It was on the latter issue, in opposition to Edward P. Liv ingston, a bank-democrat supported by the Federalists, that Mr. Van Buren was chosen a State senator from the coun ties comprising the Middle District. It was a closely contested election, the successful candidate having a majority of only about two hundred in an aggre gate vote of twenty thousand. It was the season of a new Presi dential election, the first term of Mr. Madison being about to expire. As it was the custom at that time to nomi nate the State electors by a caucus of the political parties in the legislature, Mr. Van Buren was, of course, called upon to participate in their decision. The Republican members had already, in their spring session, nominated De Witt Clinton for that high office, a nomination to which Mr. Van Buren now gave his support. This brought him in a quasi union with the Federal ists, who gave their support to Mr. Clin ton, and has led his biographers to take particular pains to exhibit his ad herence to the war policy of the admin istration at Washington, toward which, at the outset at least, Mr. Clinton had 122 MARTIN YAN BUREN. been opposed. But whatever doubts may have been thrown over his views by this accidental party relation, seem ing to compromise his thorough-going republicanism, his adherence to war measures was made explicit enough in the Address which he prepared as chair man of the committee nominating Go vernor Tompkins for reelection in 1813, and by his subsequent advocacy in the legislature of the most stringent war measures, particularly in an act to en courage privateering, and another which was known as the " classification law," of the nature of a conscription, author izing the governor to place at the dis posal of the President twelve thousand men of the militia a measure which, though adopted, peace intervening, was not required to be put in practice. The acts just alluded to were violently op posed by the Federalists, and submit ted to a severe scrutiny after their pas sage, in the Council of Revision, a body which then sat as an integral part of the legislature in confirming its laws. Chan cellor Kent there delivered an opinion against them. It was published, and replied to by Samuel Young, then Speaker of the Assembly, in several newspaper articles sigtfed "Juris Con- sultus" which were answered by the chancellor under the signature "Amicus Curice" Upon this Mr. Van Buren met the latter, directing his attention espe cially to the assault upon the morality of the privateering law, in a series of ar ticles signed "Amicus Juris Consul- After peace was concluded, in the words of his eulogist, Colonel Benton, to complete his course in support of the/ war, and to crown his meritorious labors to bring it to a happy conclu sion, it became Mr. Van Buren s fortune to draw up the vote of thanks of the greatest State of the Union, to the great est general which the war had produced * the thanks of the New York legisla ture to Major-General Jackson, his gal lant officers and troops, for their won derful and heroic victory, in defence of the grand emporium of the West. " The ability displayed by Mr. Van Buren in the Senate indicated him. as a worthy incumbent of the office of attorney-general of the State, an ap pointment which he received in 1815. He was also in this year created a Re gent of the University, and in the fol lowing was- re elected for another term of four years to the Senate. He then took up his residence at Albany, where he continued his practice at the bar, which had steadily increased, and formed a partnership with his pupil, the late Benjamin F. Butler, to whom, as the political relations of Mr. Van Buren became more engrossing, the bu siness of the office was gradually relin quished. It is not necessary here to attempt to follow Mr. Van Buren through the in tricate windings of New York political history. It is a story of cross purposes, which can be fully understood only by a minute study of the history of the times, if, indeed, we are as yet supplied with the full materials for its compre hension. It may be sufficient to say that much in those days, by a politician bent upon advancement, had to be ac complished by management and in trigue. The ship was to be assisted in MARTIN VAN BURKN 123 its course by side winds and under cur rents. Thus we find Mr. Van Buren with his party at one time, by some pro cess of fusion of Republicans and Fed eralists, supporting De Witt Clinton; at another, leading in his overthrow. It became a question of party existence. What is called the Albany Regency, a body of practised politicians who com bined their resources in office and through the press in establishing and cementing democratic authority, was called into being. Clinton had the prestige of a great name in the State, and the influence of commanding ta lents, sustained by the most indomita ble usefulness and industry ; he was the great supporter of the Canal policy, which was at length triumphantly car ried through, but which had, mean while, to bear the brunt of a ruthless opposition ; in his personal bearing he was charged with haughtiness, which was, probably, nothing more than the dignity and reserve of a . superior na ture, exclusively engrossed in honor able ends, requiring the devotipn of the whole man. At any rate, a party strug gle ensued between the friends of the governor and of Mr. Van Buren, which was conducted with great acrimony. One of its results was the removal of the latter from his office of attorney- general, by that political machine of the old constitution, the Council of Ap pointment, in 1819, at a moment when he had become obnoxious to the CKn- tonians by his efforts to oppose the re election of their chieftain. The decapi tation caused some stir at the time, which is commemorated in one of the poetical effusions of the Croakers, with a prophetic hint of the victim s higher destiny. Tia vain to win a profit man s name, Without some proof of having been one, And kill in,/ * a sure path to fame, Vide Jack Ketch and Mr. Clinton I Our Council well this path have trod, Ilonor s immortal wreath securing, They ve dipped their hatchets in the blood, The patriot blood of Mat Van Buren. He bears, as every hero ought, The mandate of the powers that rule, lie a higher game in view, tis thought, All in good time ; (the man s no fool), With him, some dozens prostrate fall, No friend to mourn, nor foe to flout them, They die unsung, unwept by all, For no one cares a sous about them. It was about this time that the demo crats, including Mr. Van Buren, engaged in one of those party compromise ma noeuvres to which we have alluded, in the election of Mr. Rufus King, an old federalist, to the Senate. In support of this measure, Mr. Van Buren wrote and published, in -conjunction with the late Governor Marcy, a pamphlet enti tled " Considerations in favor of the appointment of Rufus King to the Se nate of the United States." In the great question of the day, in which Mr. King bore so prominent a part, the admission of Missouri into the Union, Mr. Van Buren concurred with the Senate in its instructions to the State representatives at Washington, to insist upon the prohibition of slavery. His service in this body ended with the ex piration of his second term, in 18*20, when he was not a candidate for reelec tion. In February of the following year he was chosen by the legislature Senator of the United States. In the same year he was also elected a mem- 124: MARTIN VAN BUREN. ber of the convention to revise the con stitution of the State, from Otsego County, his party not being strong enough to return him from his own dis trict. When this important body met he took an active part in its delibera tions, advocating generally a medium course of reform. On one of the pro minent subjects under discussion, the extension of the right of suffrage, he was in favor of a relaxation of the old system, but stopped short of universal suffrage. That was a measure of an after day. He was opposed to the con tinuance of the Council of Revision, and in favor of the substitute for its check upon hasty legislation, of the veto power of the governor. He favored the direct choice of officers of government by the people, with some reservations, however, which, adopted at the time, have been subsequently removed. His course was thus politic, and, in a mea sure, conservative. The convention concluded its sit tings in time for Mr. Van Buren to take his seat, at the opening of the win ter session of the Senate at Washing ton, by the side of his colleague Rufus King. His reputation being now well established, he was at once charged with important duties as a member of the committees of finance and the judi ciary. One of the topics which early engaged his attention was the abolition of imprisonment for debt in the process of the United States Courts, unless in certain cases of fraud an amelioration of the statutes of the olden time, which he had already advocated in the State jurisprudence at Albany. He also pro posed amendments to the judiciary sys tem, and was a prominent speaker in the discussion of a bill establishing a uniform system of bankruptcy. On the occession of Mr. Adams in 1825 Mr. Van Buren, who had already attached himself to the fortunes of Jackson, was enrolled in the number of the President s opponents. Among other measures of the Administration, the proposed Panama mission drew forth his determined opposition. In 1827 he was reflected to the Senate by a decisive vote of the New York State Legislature, but he had little more than entered on the new term, when he was chosen, on the death of De Witt Clinton, who expired sud denly while in office, Governor of New York. He consequently resigned his seat in the Senate and began his new course of duties in January, 1829. Mr. Van Buren had not been long at Albany, in his seat as governor, when, on the entrance of Jackson upon the Presidency in 1829, he was called to the high office, directly, according to the old. precedents in the line of suc cession, of Secretary of State. He held this for two years, when political hos tilities having grown rife in the cabinet, a dissolution seemed inevitable, and, " convinced that the success of the ad ministration, and his own prospects for the future, demanded his retirement from a position so unpleasant, he led the way by a voluntary resignation of the office which he held." l Mr. Van Buren retired during the recess of Congress in April, 1831, and was immediately appointed by the J Jenkins Van Buren. Governors of New York, p. 4/14. MARTIN VAN BUREN. 125 Piv-i<l nt Minister Plenipotentiary to Great Britain. lie accepted the posi tion, the duties of which were not alto gether disconnected from those of his late office, so far as they related to the settlement of open questions with KMLT- land, which he had already had in hand. He reached London in September, and was received with every attention by the government. Before, however, he was well seated, his appointment, on being submitted to the Senate, was re jected by that body, on the ostensible ground of certain instructions, in refer ence to tlje trade with the West Indies, which he had forwarded, when Secre tary of State, to the previous minister, Mr. McLane. The political constitu tion of the Senate, which was now ar raying its forces, may be presumed to have had more to do with the rejection, which was decided against the appoint ment by the casting vote of the Vice- President, Mr. Calhoun. That act, it was often said, made Mr. Van Buren President. He was the victim of an opposition vote, and was ruthlessly thrown out from an honor able office which he was well qualified to discharge. This, at least, was the view of the Democratic party, and the friends of the President, who continued to give him his support. Consequently when General Jackson was nominated for reelection, it was with Martin Van Buren on the ticket for Vice-President. Both were chosen by a decided major ity, the vote being the same, with the exception of that of Pennsylvania, which, in consequence of Mr. Van Bu- ren s anti-protectionist views, was with held from him. As the presiding officer of the Sen ate, during the stormy period of Jack son s second term, the new Vice-Presi- dent, by his parliamentary experience, unwearied attention, and that polished courtesy which always characterized his bearing, won golden opinions from all parties. He was the devoted sup- porter of the measures of the Presi dent in this active period, which wit nessed the overthrow of the United States Bank, the decided stand taken with regard to nullification in South Carolina, and the indemnity negotia tion with Louis Philippe. The reign of Jacksonism, as it was sometimes called, became fully established, and Mr. Van Buren succeeded to the re tiring chieftain as his rightful political heir. He was nominated to the Presi dency at Baltimore, in May, 1835, and in the ensuing election of the following o year was chosen by a majority of forty- six votes over all other candidates. His inauguration, on the 4th of March, 1837, was duly celebrated ac cording to custom, by the delivery of an address, and administration of the oath at the portico of the Capitol. The day was a very finer one, as the new President was driven to the spot, seated alongside of the retiring incumbent, in a phaeton made of the wood of the frigate Constitution, which had been presented to General Jackson by the democracy of New York. The address was chiefly a eulogy on the success of the Government in its triumph over all previous obstacles. The agitation of the slavery question was pointedly al luded to and deprecated in earnest terms. The speaker renewed his 126 MARTIN VAN BUREN. pledge as "the inflexible and uncom promising opponent of every attempt on the part of Congress to abolish slavery in the District of Columbia, against the wishes of the slaveholding States ; and also his determination, equally decided, to resist the slightest interference with it in the States where it exists." In the selection of his Cabinet, Mr. Van Buren retained those who held office under the late administration, in cluding John Forsyth, of Georgia, in the State Department ; Levi Woodbury, of New Hampshire, in the Treasury; Amos Kendall in the Post Office, and Benjamin F. Butler as Attorney-Gene ral. Mr. Poinsett, of South Carolina, was appointed in the War Department to succeed General Cass, who proceeded as Minister to France. The bureau of administration thus organized, the gov ernment with an established, recog nized policy, appeared to have an easy course before it. There was, however, a cloud rising which soon burst upon the country. The difficulty arose from the banks out of the plethora of the public treasury. A large surplus had accumulated in the State banks, which were the substitutes of the former national institution, which was now to be divided among the States. Credit had been stimulated, paper money had been expanded, and the result was now the contraction, memo rable in our commercial annals, of the year 1837. The banks suspended spe cie payments, millions of value were depreciated, and the whole system of trade and industry seemed in utter wreck and ruin. An extra session of Congress was called in September, to take into consideration the state of affairs in relation to the public credit. A message from the President proposed the remedy which, known under the name of the Sub-Treasury, has passed into an established feature of the gov ernment unquestioned in party con flicts. The Independent Treasury Bill, which thus separated the financial af fairs of the State from all banks what soever, making the care of the gold and silver paid for duties, a simple matter of safe keeping, under the charge of certain officers, met at the outset with considerable opposition. It passed the Senate in this extra session but was de feated in the House of Representatives. The same fate attended it in the next regular session. It did not become a law till the last year of Mr. Van Buren s Presidential term, in 1840. It was undoubtedly the most important event of his administration. The foreign policy of the country was conducted with ability during this period. Two questions of some im portance arose in these connections, one in relation to Texas, the other regard ing the management of the frontier difficulties with Great Britain. In respect to the former, which came up on the proposition for the annexation of Texas to the Union, the President was opposed to the measure. He thought the independence of that State had not been fully recognized by the United States, and that to enter upon annex ation would be, as the event proved, to encounter hostilities with Mexico, with which country he desired to maintain peace. In the Maine Boundary Question MARTIN VAN BUREN. 127 and the Niagara frontier disturbances he pursued a firm and equable policy, protecting the rights of the country and checking the lawless spirit which had been aroused within our own bor ders. In the election of 1840 Mr. Van Buren was again the candidate of his paily, in a canvass in which he suffered an overwhelming defeat. The country, depressed by the financial crisis from which it had not yet recovered, was bent upon political change. General Harrison, a popular hero of the West was nominated by the Whigs and borne into office by a triumphant vote. He received two hundred and thirty-four electoral votes against the sixty of Pre sident Van Buren. The administration of the latter being thus ended, he re 1 tired from Washington on the accession of the new President, to his old home at Kinderhook, where he had purchased an estate which had belonged to the late Judge Van Ness, to which he gave the name .Linden wold. In 1844 his friends .lira in brought him forward as a candi date for the Presidency, and an earnest effort was made for his nomination in the national convention of his party at Bal timore. It might have been obtained for him but for a letter which he wrote in favor of deferring the annexation of Texas till the consent of Mexico should be obtained. Something more decided was required by the. convention on this point, and the nomination was given to Mr. Polk, who was less scrupulous in regard to the measure. Mr. Van Buren, true to the party organization, which he had done so much to aid in previous days, gave an influential support to the democratic candidate, and on his elec tion, was tendered the mission to Eng land, which he declined. Four years now elapsed, and 1848 brought round again the recurring struggle for the Presidency. A division had arisen in the ranks of the democracy in the State of New York, involving the question of the introduction of slavery into the new territory acquired from Mexico. Two delegations were sent from rival factions to the nominating convention of the party at Baltimore. In the poli tical nomenclature of the day one bore the name of Hunkers, the other of Barn burners. The latter, which represented the interests of Mr. Van Buren, was in favor of freedom in the territories. Re solutions were passed in the conven tion admitting both delegations, upon which the Barnburners retired. The faction of the latter then held a con- vention of their own at Utica, at which Mr. Van Buren was nominated as an independent democratic candidate of the Free Soil party, as it began to be called. General Cass was the regular nominee at Baltimore, and General Tay lor of the Whigs. The result of the election was a Free Soil popular vote for Van Buren, chiefly drawn from New York, which gave him over 120,000; Massachusetts, 38,058 ; Ohio, over 35,000; Illinois, nearly 16,000; Penn sylvania, about 11,000 an aggregate of 291,378. General Cass received 1,233,795 votes ; General Taylor s votes exceeded this by 138,447. Mr. Van Buren did not receive the electoral vote of a single State. Mr. Van Buren, " a passive instru ment var the hands of his old and de- 128 MARTIN YAN BUREN. voted friends," appears to have been little concerned at the result. It was not his humor or his character. He had seen enough of party not to be greatly affected by its decisions, and he had, moreover, reached an age of honor able, well-earned repose, which his habits of study and reflection, a certain philosophic temper, and his happy family relations disposed him to enjoy. The retirement of Mr. Van Buren s latter days was varied by a visit to Europe, undertaken for his health in 1853. There he remained for more than a year, visiting various countries and enjoying such attention as befitted the elevated career in which he had. moved. On his return his time was chiefly passed at his estate of Linden- wold, among the scenes of his child hood, in Columbia County, varied by an occasional visit to New York. An asthmatic affection was gradually grow ing upon him, which increased in inten sity, and finally brought him to his end. His death occurred on the 24th of July, 1862, in the midst of the great political and social revolution, which in the storm of civil war was shaking the land to its foundations. In the public honors which were paid to his memory the association was not forgotten. Pre sident Lincoln, in a national tribute of respect, announced his death to the country. " This event," was the lan guage of his Proclamation, " will occa sion mourning in the nation for the loss of a citizen and a public servant whose memory will be gratefully cherished. Although it has occurred at a time when his country is afflicted with divi sion and civil war, the grief of his patri otic friends will measurably be assuaged by the consciousness that, while suffer ing with disease, and seeing his end approaching, his prayers were for the restoration of the authority of the Government of which he had been the head, and for peace and good-will among his fellow-citizens. As a mark of respect for his memory, it is ordered that the Executive Mansion and the several Executive Departments, except ing those of the War and Navy, be im mediately placed in mourning, and all business be suspended during to-mor row. It is further ordered that the War and Navy Departments cause suit able military and naval honors to be paid on this occasion to the memory of the illustrious dead." The courts of New York paid their eulogies to the man and his active influential life. The funeral services were performed at the Dutch Church, in the village of Kinderhook, in the presence of a large gathering of friends and neighbors, when a discourse befitting the occa sion was delivered by a friend of the deceased, the Rev. Dr. J. Romeyn Berry, in which a stirring incentive to patriot ism, rendered doubly impressive by the national crisis, was a prominent topic. Mr. Van Buren had been long a widower, his wife having died in 1818, twelve years after their marriage, leav ing him a family of four sons, Abraham, John, Martin, and Smith Thompson. Mr. John Van Buren is well known as an eminent legal practitioner in New York, and more widely of late by his active participation in the political movements of the day. The more prominent characteristics MARTIN VAX UUIKN. 129 of Mr. Van Buren have been delicately touched liy a son of one of his most devoted friends, Mr. William Allen But ler, in an interesting obituary sketch of the " Lawyer, Statesman and Man." " In his personal traits," says he, " Mr. Van Buren was marked by a rare indi viduality, lie was a gentleman, and he cultivated the society of gentlemen. He never had any associates who were vul r ar or vicious. He affected the o companionship of men of letters, though I think his conclusion was that they are apt to make poor poli ticians and not the best of friends. AY here he acquired that peculiar neat ness and polish of manners which he wore so lightly, and which served every turn of domestic, social, and public intercourse, I do not know. It could hardly be called natural, al though it seemed so natural in him. It was not put on, for it never was put off. As you saw him once you saw him always always punctilious, al ways polite, always cheerful, always self-possessed. It seemed to any one who studied this phase of his character as if, in some early moment of destiny, his whole nature had been bathed in a cool, clear and unruffled depth, from which it drew this life-long serenity and self-control. It was another of 17 the charges against him that he was no Democrat. lie dn^srd loo well, he lived too well, the company In- kept was too good, his tastes were too re fined, his tone was too elegant. So far as democracy is supposed to have an elective affinity for dirt, this was all true ; he was no Democrat in taste or feeling, and he never pretended to be. ... As to the elements of the widest popularity, they were not in him. He never inspired enthusiasm, as Jackson did, or Henry Clay. The masses accepted him as a leader, but they never worshipped him as a hero. . . . Mr. Van Buren has left memoirs, partly finished. If his reminiscences can be given to the world as he was in the habit of giving them to his friends, in all the fresh ness of familiar intercourse, they will be most attractive. There was a charm about his conversation when it turned on the incidents of his personal experi ence which could hardly be transferred to the printed page, so much of its interest depended on manner and ex pression. Mr. Van Buren had no wit, but he had humor, and a keen sense for the humorous, and he could repro duce with rare fidelity whatever in the actions or the character of men he had i thought worth remembering." WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. THE Virginia Harrison family, of which the President of the United States was descended, is traced to a colonial ancestor in the middle of the seventeenth century. A son of this early inhabitant gave birth to Benja min Harrison, who established the line at the family seat at Berkeley, Charles City County, on James River. He was a lawyer, speaker of the House of Burgesses, and much esteemed in the colony, where he exercised a liberal influence by his virtues and hospitali ty. His grandson of the same name was the signer of the Declaration of Independence, and father of the Presi dent. The family had always taken an active part in public affairs, propor tioned to its growing wealth and im portance, and the young Benjamin, who was early left to the care of the estate, was not disposed to avoid this responsibility. He took his seat in the House of Burgesses, before he reached the legal age, and became at once marked out by his firmness and ability as a political leader. He was one of the committee appointed in 1*764 to prepare an address to the king, and memorials to parliament on the resolu tions of the House of Commons, prepa ratory to the Stamp Act. When the first independent convention of dele gates met at Williamsburgh, ten years afterward, when the mismanagement of parliament had ripened the country for revolt, he was sent a member of the first Continental Congress, which met in Philadelphia. He was also a mem ber of the second Virginia assembly of delegates at Richmond in 1*7*75, which took the active measures placing the county in a state of self-defence and resistance. He at first regarded these steps as premature, but speedily acqui esced in the vote of the House. He was again returned to the second and more important General Congress at Philadelphia. An anecdote is related of him at this time in connection with John Hancock. When the spirited Boston leader showed some reluctance or diffidence in accepting the Presi dency on the retirement of Peyton Randolph, Harrison, who was standing by him, is said to have seized him in his arms and placed him bodily in. the chair, with the exclamation, "We will show Mother Britain how little we care for her, by making a Massachusetts man our president, whom she has excluded from pardon by a public proclamation." * Another story 1 Life of- Harrison. Sanderson s Biography of the Sigr 3rs. 130 ffrtgina/ peu/itiny /v /#.///// .v /// , WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 131 is narrated involving a similar allusion t< liis powerful figure, in his remark to Elbrklge Gerry, his very opposite, in a slender, spare person, at the signing of the Declaration. " When the hanging scene conies to be exhibited," said Har rison, as he raised his pen from the instrument, " I shall have all the ad vantage over you. It will be over with me in a minute, but you will be kicking in the air half an hour after I am gone." Anecdotes like these, of such a man, show no levity of disposi tion in conflict with the serious duties in which he was employed, but they do show an animation and good heart in the cause which needed every sup port of physical temperament as well as mental resolve. Our fathers fought with cheerfulness as well as resolution. Harrison continued in Congress ac tively employed in its various employ ments till the close of 1777, when he only transferred his political duties to his native State. He was speaker of the House of Burgesses till 1782, in cluding the disastrous period of the invasion of Virginia, and was then twice elected governor. He was again called from private life to sit in the State Convention, of the Constitution, to which he gave his influential sup ; port, and was more or less engaged in public life to his death, in 1791. William Henry Harrison was his third son. He was born at Berkeley, the family residence, February 9, 1773 ; so that he came into the field of active life with the new generation which succeeded the Revolutionary era. His education was well provided for under the care of the family friend, the finan cier Robert Morris, and at Sidney College in Virginia, whence he turned to the study of medicine, lie had acquired some knowledge of the profession in the office of a physician of Richmond, and was about to pursue his studies with the celebrated Doctor Rush, at Philadelphia, when his father s death occurred, and, with some reluc tance on the part of his family, he chose for himself a military life. lie was aided by General Henry Lee in obtaining a commission as ensign in the 1st regiment of United States in fantry, and as the government had then an Indian war on its hands in the Western Territory, he at once, at the age of nineteen, found himself engaged in active service. Passing but a few days in Philadelphia, he hastened to his regiment, stationed at fort Wash ington, the site of the present Cincin nati, where he joined the remains of the broken forces of St. Clair, just escaped from the disastrous engagement at the Miami villages. It was thus that he was introduced to a region with which he became thoroughly identified, and his popularity in which, long after the scenes of war were over, carried him triumphantly into the- Presidential chair. The ill fortune which had befallen St. Clair was calculated to rouse the warlike spirit of the generous youth ; and it had its lesson of caution and preparation in dealing w^ith the In dians, which was not lost upon subse quent campaigns. When Major-Gene- ral Wayne took the field, in the sum mer of 1793, Harrison, now holding the rank of lieutenant in his regiment, 132 WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. was appointed his aid. In the brilliant engagement at the Rapids of the Miami, he distinguished himself by his valor, and secured from Wayne special men tion in his dispatch of the victory, as * one who rendered the most essential service, by communicating my orders in every direction, and by his conduct and bravery exciting the troops to press for victory." The battle on the Miamis was fought August 20, 1*794, and a year afterward, with various in termediate demonstrations and negoti ations brought forth its peaceable fruits in Wayne s treaty of Greenville, which closed the war. Harrison was then, at the age of twenty-three, with the rank of Captain, placed in command of Fort Washing ton, where he about the same time, was married to the daughter of John Cleves Symines, whose name is so honorably distinguished in the history of the western settlements, and particularly as the founder of Cincinnati. The young officer held this post till 1797, when he sent in his resignation, with the intention thereafter, says his bio grapher, Montgomery, " of devoting his time to the peaceful and more conge nial pursuits of agriculture." He was speedily, however, withdrawn from these quiet anticipations to public du ties, in his appointment by President Adams as secretary of the Northwest Territory, then under the government of St. Clair. When the Territory be came organized, and was qualified to send a delegate to Congress, Harrison was chosen its first representative in 1799. He distinguished himself in this body by his activity and success in secur- | ing to settlers the privilege of purchas- I ing the public lands in small quantities, and in measures favoring their preemp tion rights and modes of payment. On the division of the Territory, Harrison was withdrawn from Con gress to discharge the duties of the first governor of the newly formed Territory of Indiana, which included the present States of Indiana, Illinois, Michigan, and Wisconsin. This was in 1801, and the whole region now so populous numbered only five thousand people, scattered over the whole country, ex posed to the dangers of frontier life and the unsettled relations with the Indians. " With such difficulties," says his biographer, " it was no less a mat ter of duty than of necessity that he should be clothed with the amplest independent powers. Amongst those of a civil as well as political nature conferred upon him were those jointly with those of the judges, of the legisla tive functions of the Territory, the ap pointment of all the civil officers within the Territory, and all the military offi cers of a grade inferior in rank to that of general; commander-in-chief of the militia ; the absolute and uncontrolled power of pardoning all offences; sole commissioner of treaties with the In dians with unlimited powers, and the power of conferring, at his option, all grants of lands." Harrison held this proconsular office for sixteen years, dur ing which he saw the country steadily increasing in strength and prosperity ; though his career, experienced and pru dent as it was, proved not without dif ficulties with the Indians, rising at length to open warfare. WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 133 Tlie stniii^le, known as the battle of Tippecanoe, which took place on the seventh of November, 1811, involved various elements of preparation on the part of the savages, some of which im part to their conduct of the war an inte rest with which there will always be a certain degree of sympathy. The effort of a fulling race to regain its authority under a leader like Tecumseh, assisted 1>\ the fanaticism of his brother the Prophet, is raised o ut of the rank of the ordinary Indian fighting propensities. The. Indian chief was a hero of no ordi nary class. To the virtues of the war rior in arms, he united many of those moral qualities so powerful in strength ening the courage of the soldier. lie was self-denying, forbearing, and even compassionate. Born in the centre of Ohio, he represented the races immedi ately west of the Alleghanies, whom lie appears early to have sought to unite against the whites. Consistently with his character for sincerity he de clined to attend Wayne s council of e at Greenville. His great effort was to bring the scattered tribes to act in concert. For this purpose he estab lished, in 1808, an Indian settlement at the Tippecanoe River, a tributary of the Wabash, in Indiana, whither, with the aid of the Prophet, he brought together a considerable number of recruits to his mingled political and superstitious teaching. The "Wabash Prophet," as he was called, was at first considered a simple visionary. Jefferson, then in the Presi dency, took this view of him, and thought little harm would come of his preaching the simple austerities of their forefathers to a race not remarkably disposed to ab stinence and self-denial His success, however, and the activity and declara tions of Tecumseh, with the imminent English war at hand, aroused the anxie ties of the people of the Territory, and when positive ground was taken by the Indian leader at the conference of Vin- ceunes against the progress of the treat ies by which Harrison was extending the authority of the whites, it was found necessary to assume a decided mi litary stand. The governor therefore at length, in October, 1811, advanced hia forces, composed of regulars and militia, officered by experienced western leaders, toward the Indian settlement presided over by the prophet on the Tippecanoe. Moving forward cautiously with a force of nine hundred men, he reached a sta tion about a mile and a half from the town, where a military encampment was formed, when some conferences were commenced with the foe. It was evi dent that the purposes of the Prophet were hostile. Harrison arranged his men in order to receive the assault, which was made by the Indians early on the morning of the seventh of Novem ber. It was in fact a night attack, though commenced after four o clock, a drizzling rain, and the season of the year favoring the darkness. The onset was made with vigor, on all sides of the encampment, which was gallantly de fended, with considerable loss of life by the rifle companies at their several sta tions. The camp was thus resolutely held, and kept unbroken, till daybreak, when new military dispositions were made, and ^, charge at the point of the bayonet, put the Indians to the rout. 134: WILLIAM HEXRY HARRISON. " With this success," says Mr. Dawson, in his account of the battle, 1 " the engage- O O inent was ended ; both parties appeared to have satisfied the expectations of their friends. The steady, undeviating courage of the American troops elicited great commendation ; while Governor Harrison, speaking of his savage ene my, says the Indians manifested a ferocity uncommon even with them. In this, however, they were inspirited by the religious fanaticism under which they acted the Prophet, during the action, being posted on a neighboring eminence, singing a war-song; and in faint imitation of Moses in the wilder ness, directing his people by the move ments of his rod." The forces engaged in this battle were probably about equal. The Americans lost some sixty officers and men killed, or who died of their wounds, beside the wounded sur vivors, and the Indian loss was sup posed to have been greater. The attack upon the American camp was urged and directed in the absence of Tecumseh, by the Prophet, who promised in virtue of his soothsaying insight, an easy victory. The result was that he altogether lost credit with the tribes whom he had inveigled to his town by his necromantic appeals. When the battle was fought, Tecumseh O was on a journey to the Southern In dians, whom he was stirring up to his warlike enterprises. He reached the Wabash on his return in time to wit ness the first effects of the discomfiture of his followers, and it is said, so great was his indignation toward his brother, * Battles of the United States, II. 73-81. the Prophet, that on his attempting to palliate his fool-hardy conduct, he seized him by the hair and threatened his life. The disaster had broken up his long entertained hope of an Indian confede racy against the white man. The game, however, was not quite up yet. The desperation of the Indians was taken advantage of by the British authorities on the frontier, to engage them in the / cu <j war with America In May, 1812, Te cumseh openly joined the British stand ard at Maiden. On the eighteenth of O the following month war against Great O O Britain was formally declared by Con gress. O The campaign of Hull in Canada, opened with brilliant promise in his in vasion of the country, speedily to be checked by his inefficiency and to ter minate in his ignominious surrender of Detroit. This disaster, of a sufficiently afflictive character, so far however, from intimidating the western defenders, called them to new exertions, and vo lunteer forces were raised in large mini- O bers in Ohio and Kentuckv. There / was at first some conflict of authority as to the command of the troops of the latter State, which, for the purpose of placing Harrison at their head, con ferred upon him the brevet commission of Major-General, while the Secretary of War, ignorant of this movement, / O assigned the command to General Win- O chester. The difficulty, however, was speedily solved by the appointment of General Harrison by the President, in September, commander-in-chief of the Western Department, when the left wing of the army was assigned to Gene ral Winchester. Harrison himself took WILLIAM HENRY HAKKIM>\ 135 his position in what the British con- fcs had now made the frontier, the northerly portion of Ohio bordering on Michigan, and made his headquarters at Upper Sandusky. The new year 1813, opened with a movement on the part of Winchester, now established at the rapids of the Maumee to protect the outlying settle ments in Michigan on the Raisin River, a territory virtually in possession of the British. For this purpose Colonel L- \vis was dispatched with a force over the frozen waters of the adjacent por tion of Lake Erie to Frenchtown, from which the enemy were driven with great gallantry. This action occurred on the eighteenth of January. On the twenty-second, the victors in the mean time having been joined by Winchester witli a small body of troops, an attack was made upon the American position by Colonel Proctor, who had issued forth from the neighboring Maiden, only eighteen miles distant, with a con siderable party of royal troops, several s of artillery, and a formidable band of six hundred Indians. The camp was taken unprepared ; such re- j sistance as could be offered at the mo- 1 ment was made, but the American defeat was complete. Such was the cruelty of the Indian allies and the merciless conduct of the British com mander, that the action, an indelible disgrace to the British anus, passes in history as the massacre at the River Raisin. Both the officers, Lewis and Winchester were captured ; of about a thousand American troops engaged, but thirty-three escaped, nearly four hundred were killed or missing, and the rest taken prisoners. General Har rison, though he disapproved of the more than questionable attempt at hold ing a position like Frenchtown in the face of the superior foe, did all that he could to save the fortunes of the army by hastening thither with recruits ; but the action was fought and the disaster completed before he reached the scene. All further onward movements were of course, for the time, unavailing, and the commander-in-chief intrenched his forces at the Rapids of the Maumee, constructing there a fort, named in honor of Governor Meigs, of Ohio. The next important event of the war in this quarter was the attack on this fort in the spring, by a force led by General Proctor, of over two thousand men, more than one half of whom were Indians, and of the rest above five hun dred were regulars. He made good his landing on the river two miles below O the fort ; but he had this time a more diligent commander than Winchester to encounter. Harrison, who anticipated an attack, had hastened from a recruit ing mission to Cincinnati, to superintend the defence. The fort was defended by its elevated position and the usual pro tection of works of that kind, of pick ets and block houses. As a further protection against the pieces of artillery which the besiegers were bringing to bear upon it, a heavy embankment was earned across the works which sheltered the troops from the enemy s fire. The batteries of the assailants were opened on the first of May, and continued with energy for four days with little effect, when the arrival in the vicinity of Ken tucky reinforcements under General 136 WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. Clay, which Harrison had originally sent for, gave the commander the oppor tunity to plan a concerted attack upon the besiegers. It was made by a sally from the fort and two divisions of Clay s troops at diiferent points with various success ; but the result was the virtual discomfiture or defeat of the British. The fighting of that fifth of May, proved the superiority of the Ame ricans and a few days after the seige was abandoned. We here meet again with the Indian leader, Tecunaseh, who proved himself a skillful combatant in the day s work, and who, we may mention, had exhibited his prowess in the campaign in Michi gan at the expense of a detachment of Hull s command previous to his sur render. A story of this chieftain s in terposition in saving some of the pri soners taken by the British in this action before Fort Meigs, is creditable to his humanity, while the necessity for such interposition adds another item to the fearful account against Proctor for his treachery and cruelty at the River Rais in. While a dispute was raging be tween the Potawatamies and the more merciful Miamis and Wyandots, as to the fate of the captives, the work of scalping and slaughter having been al ready wreaked on some twenty defence less victims, Tecurnseh came upon the spot nourishing his hatchet, and it is said burying it in the head of a chief en gaged in the bloody work, commanded them, for shame to desist. " It is a dis grace," said he, "to kill a defenceless prisoner:" and his order was obeyed. 1 1 Dawson s Seige of Fort Meigs. Battles of the United States. The loss of the Americans in the seige and the action was greater than that of the British; but we are to consider in the number of the slain those perfidi ously murdered by the savage allies of the enemy. Proctor, at any rate, was unable to stand before the American forces now thickening around him. Thus relieved of the presence of the enemy, General Harrison waited the effects of Perry s movements on the lake below. Once in command of Lake Erie, the British occupation of Michigan he felt would now be abandoned. The interim between this time and Perry s victory which opened the way to the ex pected conquests was honorably marked by Major Croghan s gallant defence of Fort Stephenson, against another attack of Proctor. That action was fought on the first of August; on the tenth of September, Perry defeated and captured the whole British squadron. Harrison who had been impatiently waiting this result, now rapidly matured his meas ures for the reconquest of the country overrun by the British. Employing the smaller vessels taken from the enemy to transport a portion of his forces, now powerfully recruited by the Kentucky volunteers, Harrison effected a landing on the Canadian shore, on the twenty- seventh of the month, and advancing to Maiden, found it abandoned by the British and its fort and storehouses de stroyed. Proctor, with all his royal forces accompanied by Tecumseh with his Indians, had retreated within the peninsula along the line of the Thames, which empties into Lake St. Clair. General Harrison, leaving detachments of his force at Sandwich and Detroit, WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON 137 now regained, pushed on with a com pany of about a hundred and forty re gulars, Colonel Richard M. Johnson s mounted Kentuckians, and Governor Shelby s volunteers, also Kentuckians, after the retreating foe. Lewis Cass and Commodore Perry were with him as volunteer aids. The whole force amounted to about three thousand five hundred men. For some distance along the river the troops were accompanied by the smaller vessels of the fleet. The progress of the Americans along the route was of the most exciting character as they drove in the enemy from the defence of the bridges which lay in their way. On the fifth of Octo ber they came up with the British forces of Proctor drawn up in the vicinity of the Moravian town. He had some eight hundred regular troops and about two thousand Indians. They were posted in front of the road and in an open wood flanked by the river on one hand and a swamp on the other. The Indians adjoined the swamp on the enemy s right. The attack was made on the front by the mounted Kentuckians, whose charge at once threw that portion of the foe into utter confusion, driv ing through their ranks and assailing them from the rear. Colonel Johnson, meanwhile, was engaged in a stubborn conflict with the Indians, who, directed by the skill of Tecumseh, reserved their fire to tell with deadly effect upon the advancing column. Johnson was wounded, but his Kentuckians were not to be dismayed. Dismounting from their horses they plied their rifles with great effect against the Indians who stood their ground well, but being un- 18 supported by their British employers, were soon compelled to retreat. Proc tor himself had already taken to flight. Tecumseh was slain in the battle, the most illustrious victim of the day. Tho number of chivalrous leaders engaged in the American ranks, men who were then or afterward became greatly cele brated, Johnson, Cass, Perry, Shelby, is noticeable, while more than a quarter of a century later, " The battle of the Thames" was to be one of the watch words of victory for its General in a great political contest. The effect of this successful termina tion of the contest following upon Per ry s naval triumph a success enhanced by the embarrassments and failures of the early part of the struggle upon the West, can hardly be appreciated at the present day. It was a release from danger and from fear, from a remorse less foe and the scalping knife of the savage. With Tecumseh fell the last Indian enemy known to a great region of the West. Henceforth we are to follow his successful adversary through the paths of civil life. General Ham- son was not engaged in the later occu pations of the army. He was in effect driven to retirement by the arrange ments of General Armstrong, the Sec retary of War, by whom he was, under some adverse influence or other, virtu ally suspended in his command. When he was omitted in the plan of the next year s campaign, he resigned the com mission which he held as major-general, and its accompanying emoluments. He now resided at his farm at North Bend, on the Ohio, near Cincinnati, which henceforth, in the intervals of 138 WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. public occupation to which he was fre quently called, continued his residence. He was in Congress from 1816 to 1818. <D a member of the House of Representa tives, and from 1824 to 1828 a member of the Senate. Between these dates he sat in the Ohio Senate. In 1828 we find him appointed by President John Quincy Adams, Minister Plenipoten tiary to the Republic of Columbia. He reached Bogota, the seat of his du ties, in February of the next year, and was received with favor, but he had hardly entered upon the mission when President Jackson coming into office, he was recalled. Resuming again his agri cultural pursuits at North Bend upon his return, he was occasionally called upon to deliver public addresses and speeches, of which several were printed. One of these, which was republished during his canvass for the presidency, was a discourse before the Philosophical and Historical Society of Ohio, in 1837, in which he took the aborigines of the State for his text. He had some talent for composition and was fond of illus trations drawn from ancient history. In 1836, General Harrison was a can didate for the presidency in opposition to Van Buren. Though the strength of the Whig party which he represented, was somewhat divided, he received seventy-three electoral votes, a sufficient test of his popularity to bring him into the field again at the next election. The elements of opposition had in the meantime gained force; the country was suffering under an extraordinary financial depression ; there was discon tent on all sides. General Harrison re ceived the nomination of twenty-two states at Harrisburg, and was triumph antly borne into the presidential chair. A peculiarity of the canvass was the popular good Avill, which eagerly seiz ing hold of the " log cabin " and " hard cider" as emblems of the simplicity of his early western life, turned them to political account. "Log cabins" were set up in villages and towns through out the country, at which hard cider or its more comfortable equivalents were freely dispensed. Carried rapidly on ward in the popular enthusiasm, he re ceived the electoral vote of twenty of the twenty-six States, and two hundred and thirty -four electoral votes against only sixty given to Mr. Van Buren. The inauguration of President Harri son at Washington, took place on the 4th of March, 1841 ; on the same day of the following month he breathed his last. The active duties of his responsi ble station, the exacting pretensions of office seekers who beset a new president, the pressure of the previous canvass, may have all contributed to the severity of the shock which deprived him of life. He was sixty-eight years old, a time of life when any great change of habit may easily destroy the constitution; when a simple cause may shake a wea ried frame. A slight cold which he took by exposure to the rain was fol lowed by sudden prostration; a diar rhoea set in, and after an illness of but a few days he expired. His last words, heard by his physician, Dr. Worthing- ton, were as if addressing his successor, " Sir, I wish you to understand the true principles of the government. I wish them carried out. I ask nothing more " In announcing the event to the public, WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 139 the members of the Cabinet, of which vation to the presidency. Ilia life was Daniel Webster was at the head, wrote: marked by a union of moderation with "The people of the United States, over- good fortune and substantial success in whelmed like ourselves, by an event so public affairs. lie was prosperous as a unexpected and so melancholy, will commander where others failed ; he was derive consolation from knowing that identified with the growth and prospe- his death was calm and resigned as his rity of a powerful region of the repub- life had been patriotic, useful, and dis- ; lie ; he had made few enemies though tinguished; and that the last utterance he had been the subject of hostility, from his lips expressed a fervent desire ! and he had been too long retired from for the perpetuity of the constitution public life to awaken any new preju- and the preservation of its true princi- dices. His military reputation, after pies. In death, as in life, the happiness the precedent of Jackson, was doubtless of his country was uppermost in his in his favor ; but a belief in his good thoughts." The personal qualities of General Harrison had much to do with his ele- sense and his integrity, with the expecta tions of the times, in a change of policy, were the elements of his success. JOHN TYLER. THE family of John Tyler was of an old English stock, established in Vir ginia from the early days of the settle ment. He is said, in fact, by one of his biographers, to be descended from that redoubtable Walter or Watt Tyler, the man of Kent who offered such brave resistance to the tax-gatherers of the second Richard, and who had for his associate the famous John Ball, a reve rend itinerant, to whom is attributed the wholesome democratic inquiry "When Adam delved and Eve span Who was then the gentleman ? Be all this, however, as it may, the grandfather of the President was a re spectable landholder in the colony of Virginia, in the vicinity of Williams- burgh, enjoying the office of marshal in the ante-revolutionary period. His son, John Tyler, born in time to take part in the new era, was a member of the House of Delegates from Charles City County when Patrick Henry and his as sociates sounded the first notes of revolt. As the cause advanced he devoted his fortunes and energies to the patriotic work, and was rewarded by the suf frages of the people with the highest honors of the State. He rose to be speaker of the House of Delegates, Governor of the State, Judge of the United States District Court, and in his last days, in the period of the second war with England, was created by Pre sident Madison, Judge of the Federal Court of Admiralty. He died at the age of sixty-five. He was the intimate friend and correspondent of Patrick Henry, for whom he entertained an ardent admiration. No one was more esteemed or better thought of in the State. This revolutionary patriot left three sons, the first of whom appears to have been called Watt, after the old English man of the people, the stout rebel of the fourteenth century. The second, destined to occupy the chair of the Pre sident of the United States, named after his father and grandfather, John, was born in Charles City County, March 29, 1790. The youth had the educa tion and training of the son of a Vir ginia gentleman. At the age of twelve he entered the college of William and Mary, at Williarnsburg, and enjoyed * the particular friendship of the venera ble Bishop Madison, who had then pre sided over the institution for a quarter of a century. He graduated with cre dit, his commencement address on " Female Education " gaining more than the usual plaudits of such occasions, and next occupied himself with the 140 JOHN TYLER. 141 Btudy of tlie law, partly with his father the judge, partly with the eminent lawyer Edmund Randolph, who was at one time Governor of the State, and who was conspicuous in the affairs of the nation as a member of the old Congress, the Convention of the Con stitution, and the cabinet of President Washington. At nineteen, we are told, he was permitted to practice at the bar, no question being made as to his age ; and his success was decided. On ar riving at twenty-one he was unani mously elected a member of the House of Delegates. It was at the season when the war with Great Britain, long imminent was on the eve of actual out break. The topic was an attractive one for many a nascent orator through out the country, and was not neglected by the youthful Tyler. By education and tradition he belonged to the demo cratic party, and his voice was raised in favor of a vigorous prosecution of hos tilities by the government. When the war had been entered upon and the British forces in Chesapeake Bay threat ened an attack on Norfolk and Rich mond, the young legislator turned his attention to the more active prepara tion for the field. He occupied him self -in raising a company of militia in his county, whose services happily were not called for. This slight flavor of warfare in comparison with the impor tant military deeds of many of the oc cupants of the Presidential chair, gave him the familiar title, during his can vass for the Presidency, of Captain Tyler ; a title by which he is yet occa sionally named. We must not, however, anticipate this portion of his career. He con tinued for five years a member of the House of Delegates in Virginia, in the last of which he was raised to a seat in the executive council. lie had hardly, however, entered upon this new honor when another awaited him, at the close of 1816, in his election to the House of Representatives, to fill a vacancy caused by the death of the incumbent. His rival in the canvass was a gentleman, Mr. Andrew Stevenson, afterward dis tinguished at Washington, whom he defeated by a majority of some thirty votes. At the next regular election his triumph over the same candidate was more decided. In his course in the House he pursued generally the career, so plainly marked out under the rigid party discipline in that State, of a state- rights or strict constructional Virginia politician. He was opposed to internal improvements, and to that great evil in the eyes of all thoroughly-trained demo crats, a national bank. He opposed Mr. Clay in his attempt to gain the recog nition of the independence of the South American Republics, but was with him in the censure of General Jackson s as sumptions of responsibility in the Semi- nole wars. A third time elected to Con gress, he voted in 1820 for the unre stricted admission of Missouri into the Union. Before his new term of office had expired he was compelled to seek retirement in consequence of ill health. He returned to his farm in Charles City County, and continued the practice of his profession. According to a custom which does honor to American politics, he thought it no indignity after occupying a seat 142 JOHN TYLER. in the national councils, to return again to the humbler duties, with which he had commenced life, of service in the le gislature of his state. He was for three years, from 1823 in the House of Dele gates, applying his best efforts to the welfare of Virginia. It is an example which might be more generally imitated. Our state legislatures embrace a variety of interests unknown to the national representatives at Washington, and the maturity of years and experience might be brought to them with effect. Mr. Tyler in this capacity applied his efforts to the improvement of Virginia, and many of the finest roads in the state, it is said, are due to his exertions. In 1825 he was chosen Governor of the State, and in the following year was taken from that office to succeed John Randolph in the Senate of the United States. It was the third year of the administration of John Quincy Adams when he took his seat and he at once engaged on the side of the op position, that is in support of the ine vitable nomination of General Jackson as the succeeding President. In the late election he had been in favor of the Southern candidate, Mr. Crawford, and on the decision being carried into the House, had cheerfully acquiesced in Mr. Clay s casting vote for Mr. Adams. The latter soon lost ground and every means was taken for his defeat. When General Jackson was elected, Mr. Tyler was one of his supporters in the Senate, at least on such questions as his. rejection of internal ^mprove- ments and veto of the Bank. He op posed a tariff for protection. On one important measure, however, he was in opposition to the President. He took part with the South Carolinians in their nullification doctrines, and spoke against the Force Bill introduced into the Se nate to aid General Jackson in their overthrow. When Mr. Clay introduced his compromise bill, modifying the ob noxious tariff, Mr. Tyler gave it his support. On the close of his term in 1833, he was again elected to the Senate. It was the beginning of that second term of Jackson s administration memorable in the annals of the country for the accomplishment of his warfare against that political giant, the Bank of the United States. To these measures Mr. Tyler in conjunction with Mr. Calhoun and other members of his party stood opposed. He voted in favor of Mr. Clay s resolutions of censure, standing on his old Virginia ground as a strict constructionist, hostile to all undue as sumptions of power on the part of the Executive. He did this at the time no less in accordance with his own feelings than with the views of the Virginia le gislature which had elected him. Time passed on, and the President, gaining ground throughout the country and in the Senate, the pertinacious resolution of Mr. Benton to expunge the obnoxious resolution was pressed to a final issue. Mr. Tyler now received instructions to vote for it. What should he do ? The right of instruction and the duty of the Representative to obey it had always been a maxim of his political creed, which it so happened that he had on more than one occasion in his career, brought conspicuously before the pub lic. Could he now disavow his che- JOHN TYLER. n;; rished convictions? One choice was left him to resign, and he cheerfully met the issue, resigning his seat in the Senate rather than take part in the mutilation of the sacred record. In his letter of resignation to the Legislature of Virginia he wrote : " I dare not touch the Journal of the Senate. The Con stitution forbids it. In the midst of all the agitations of party, I have hereto fore stood by that sacred instrument. It is the only post of honor and of safety. A seat in the Senate is sufficiently ele vated to fill the measure of any man s ambition ; and as an evidence of the sincerity of my convictions that your resolutions cannot be executed, without violating my oath, I surrender into your hands three unexpired years of my term. I shall carry with me into retirement the principles which I brought with me into public life, and by the surrender of the high station to which I was called by the voice of the people of Virginia, I shall set an example to my children which shall teach them to re gard as nothing, place and office, when to be either obtained or held at the sac rifice of honor." In the excited state of the political world at the time, when the attention of the whole community was fastened upon the scene in the Se nate, such an act could not escape notice. It met with the general plaudits of the country. Mr. Tyler now became a resident at Williamsburg, the early residence of his father, and passed his time in com parative retirement. In the presiden tial canvass of 1836 he was placed on the ticket for Vice President in several of the states, receiving forty-seven votes in all. His support was derived from the Southern State Rights Party in op position to Jackson and Van Buren. Two years later, in 1838, we find him once more seated in the Virginia House of Delegates "acting with the Whig Party, under which name the different sections of the opposition to Mr. Van Buren s administration gradually be came amalgamated in Virginia." This connexion introduced him to the Whig nominating convention of 1839, which sat at Harrisburg where he made his appearance as a friend of Henry Clay. Upon the vote being taken in favor of General Harrison, Mr. Tyler was adopted on the ticket as Vice President. In the election which ensued he was chosen by the same overwhelming vote with the President. The fourth of March, 1841, saw the inauguration of President Harrison at Washington, and barely one month after, Vice President Tyler was himself summoned from his home at Williams- burg to enter upon the duties of that high office. It was the first time death had seized an occupant of the presiden tial chair. President Harrison died on the fourth of April, at Washington. Congress was not in session. The offi cers of the cabinet, of whom Daniel Webster was at the head, took charge of the government for the moment, im mediately sending a special messenger with an announcement to Vice Presi dent Tyler of the melancholy fact. On the morning of the second day, the sixth of April, Mr. Tyler arrived in Washing ton, and the same day, before Judge Cranch, of the District of Columbia, took the oath, " faithfully to execute the 144 office of President of the United States, and to the best of his ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States." He did not think it necessary to make this oath after that which he had taken on entering upon his duties as Vice President but as a measure of prudence and " for greater caution as doubts may arise." On re ceiving the members of the cabinet he expressed his wish that they should remain in office. The funeral of the late president took place on the seventh and was attended by President Tyler. There was no public ceremonial of an inauguration on his taking the oath before Justice Cranch and consequently no public address, but two days after the funeral, on the ninth of April, an " inaugural address " was issued by the President which was read with much interest. It was expected to solve the question w r hich began to be much agi tated of the degree of conformity of the views of the new incumbent to the Whig principles of his predecessor. He had, as we have seen, been led on vari ous occasions to cooperate with the Whig party, but many of his anteced ents were directly hostile to their views. His name had been placed on the ticket in the Southern interest and as a friend of Mr. Clay, without any distinct pledges on his part to serve the doc trines of the party. In fact the proba bility of his being placed *in the autho ritative position of President had not been very seriously if at all entertained, by the. convention which, somewhat hastily, put him in nomination. The address, however, was upon the whole, acceptable to the Whigs ; it certainly JOHN TYLER. gave little satisfaction to the opposite party which saw in it a lurking con demnation of the "assumptions" of President Jackson, and an inclination, at least, toward a national bank. 1 A few days after this address Presi dent Tyler issued "a recommendation" to the people of the United States, of a day of fasting and prayer, in recognition of the solemn bereavement in the death of the late president. An extra session of Congress had been already summoned by President Harrison, to meet the last day of May. It sat from that date till September. As its main object was to take into con sideration the financial condition of the country, and, if possible, provide ways and means for its relief, the question of the creation of a new United State. Bank became a paramount subject of discussion. The President was appa rently in favor of such an institution. In his message he reviewed the previous course of legislation in this matter, and admitted the last substitute, the sub- treasury, to be condemned by the peo ple. "To you, then," he concluded, addressing Congress, " who have come more directly from the body of our com mon constituents, I submit the entire question, as best qualified to give a full exposition of their wishes and opinions. I shall be ready to concur with you in the adoption of such system as you may propose, reserving to myself the ulti mate power of rejecting any measure which may, in my view of it, conflict with the Constitution, or otherwise jeopard the prosperity of the country 1 Benton s Thirty Years View, II., 212. JOUN TYLER. 11.-, a power which I could not part with if I would, l)iit which I will not believe any act of yours will call into requisi tion." This sentence foreshadowed the result. Two bills were prepared ac cording to plans more or less adapted to the views of the President, and both, when they had been passed after much discussion in Congress, were vetoed by him. For the plans and devices, the learned political doubts and constitu tional arguments on either side we must refer the reader to the debates in Congress and the messages of President Tyler himself. On the side of the Whigs throughout the country there sprung up a great disaffection in conse quence, toward the President whom they had created. On the other hand, the Democratic party thanked their un expected assistant with moderated en thusiasm. It was thought to be the last effort in Congress to establish a National Bank. Other measures of re lief, however, were passed at this extra session including the bankrupt act and a national loan. The defection of President Tyler, as it was considered, from the Whig party caused the resignation of most of the members of his cabinet. Daniel. Web ster, however, remained in the office of Secretary of State to complete the im portant negotiation with England in reference to the disputed North Eastern Boundary. This treaty, one of the most important acts of President Tyler s administration, was negotiated between Lord Ashburton who was sent a special minister from England for the purpose, and Mr. Webster as Secretary of State in 1842. Mr. Webster held his office 19 in the cabinet till May of the following year. His successor was Mr. Abel P. Upshur of Virginia, who perished while in office, in February, 1844, by the fatal explosion on board the Princeton, on the Potomac. Mr. Calhoun was afterwards appointed Secretary of State, and in 1844 negotiated a treaty of annexation between the United States and the Re public of Texas, which was rejected by the Seriate. In the following year the annexation, which had been recom mended by the President, and became a test question with politicians through the country, passed both houses. This was among the last acts of President Tyler s administration. His successor, Mr. Polk, had already been chosen, and a few months after, on the fourth of March, 1845, entered upon the duties of his office. Mr. Tyler then retired to his seat in Virginia, carrying with him to grace his home a lady of New York, a daughter of the late Mr. David Gardner, whom he had married during his Presidency, in 1844. He had been previously married in 1813 to a lady of Virginia, Miss Letitia Christian, who died at Washington, leaving three sons and three daughters. One of the sons, Mr. Robert Tyler, attracted some at tention in the literary world as the author of a poem entitled Ahasuerus. After his retirement from the Presi dency Mr. Tyler passed his time in honorable leisure, appearing on one or two occasions to deliver public ad dresses on anniversary and other meet ings of historical or other general in terest. His first production of this kind was an address which should have been mentioned in the order of our nar- 146 JOHN TYLER. rative, delivered in July, 1826, at the capitol square in Richmond, in memory of his own and father s friend, the illus trious Jefferson. The agitation arising out of the Pre sidential election of 1860 brought Mr. Tyler again before the public. When the success of the Republican party in the election of Mr. Lincoln was followed by threats and active measures of dis union on the part of the South, he was sent by the legislature of Virginia to Washington, a member of the notable Peace Convention of delegates from the northern and border -States, a measure originally proposed in Virginia with the view of warding off impending hos tilities between the two portions of the country by some adjustment or com promise of the questions in dispute. The convention met at Washington on the 4th of February, 1861, and Mr. Tyler was chosen its President. In an opening address he declared the object of the assembly "to snatch from ruin a great and glorious confederation, to preserve the government, and to renew and invigorate the Constitution." In the course of his remarks he observed that "our ancestors probably com mitted a blunder in not having fixed upon every fifth decade for a call of a general convention to amend and reform the Constitution." The con vention, in which twenty-one States were represented, debated for three weeks various propositions, and finally determined upon the recommendation of a plan, extending the line of the Missouri Compromise to the Pacific, and proposing additional securities for the " peculiar institution " by limitation of the legislation of Congress, and other measures. The whole was submitted to the consideration of the national Congress then in session, and the con vention adjourned. Congress was not disposed to accept this and the like palliatives of the na tional difficulties which were proposed in that body. The crisis rapidly ap proached. The acts of secession of the Southern States were followed by the attack on Sumter. Virginia, no longer neutral, cast in her lot with the Con federacy, and Mr. Tyler followed the fortunes of his State, and became an active Secessionist. He was chosen a senator in the Confederate Congress, and held this position at the time of his death, which occurred suddenly at Richmond, January 18, 1862. JAMES KNOX POLK. THE eleventh President of the United States was born in Mecklenburg county, North Carolina, in the vicinity of the county town of Charlotte, November 2, 1795. He was of Scoto-Irish descent, the name being said to have been ori ginally Pollock in Scotland. Robert Polk, the first American ancestor of the family, emigrated from Ireland about the middle of the eighteenth century. He came to Maryland, and was temporarily established, with his children, on the eastern shore ; thence his sons removed first to the interior of Pennsylvania, and afterward to the more permanent settlement in North Carolina. In this frontier district, in the western part of the State, border ing on South Carolina, in the region bounded by the parallel streams of the Yadkin and the Catawba, the three sons of Thomas Polk, Thomas, Ezekiel and Charles, found a home, in the midst of a sturdy, independent popula tion, who earned the virtues of order, sobriety, and secular and religious edu cation to the borders of what was then the Indian wilderness. Two of these brothers, Thomas and Ezekiel, became distinguished in the early annals of the Revolution, in those measures of pro test and resistance which placed North Carolina in the foremost rank of State patriotism. Thomas Polk was put for ward as the leader of these indepen dent mountaineers. He was colonel of the militia, and had been a surveyor and member of the colonial assembly. It was at his call that a convention of the citizens of the region, delegates of the militia districts, assembled at Char lotte on the 19th of May, 1775, to deliberate on the crisis at hand. While they were assembled, it is said, news was brought by a post rider of the bloody day at Lexington. The meet ing was stimulated to action, and ex pressed its resolve in the famous Mecklenburgh Declaration of Indepen dence, which curiously anticipated, in its spirit and even a portion of its lan guage, the words of the great national instrument from the pen of Jefferson. Thomas Polk was a master-spirit in these transactions. His nephew Samuel, son of Ezekiel, was the father of the future President. He was a farmer " of unassuming pre tensions, but of enterprising character." His wife, who gave her family name to her son, was the daughter of James Knox, who became captain in the military service of the Revolution. In 1806, when their son James was about eleven years old, the family, tempted by the accounts of western 147 1-48 JAMES KNOX POLK. lands, removed across the mountains into the adjoining state of Tennessee, and settled on the banks of Duck river. In this region, the boyhood of the future President was passed in the hardy pursuits of a farmer s life, spent in* subduing the land to the pur poses of cultivation. His health, how ever, was not robust, and his father, thinking perhaps that less demand would be made upon his physical powers, procured him employment at first with a store-keeper. The occupa tion was not to the youth s taste ; he was of a reflective turn, fond of read ing, and his mind had been led to study by witnessing his father s occu pations as a surveyor. He desired to leave merchandize his wish was grant ed and at the age of eighteen, he applied himself regularly to study, at first under the care of the Rev. Dr. Hen derson, and afterward at the academy of Murfreesborough in the State, in charge of Mr. Samuel P. Black, a man of valuable classical acquirements. With these advantages and diligent applica tion, the pupil in 1815 entered the Sophomore Class of the University of North Carolina, at Chapel Hill. He distinguished himself in his col lege course by his punctual, earnest ap plication and proficiency in his studies. He became the foremost scholar both in mathematics, for which he had a natu ral liking, and in the .classics. He graduated in 1818 with the highest honors, delivering the Latin salutatory oration. He -was then twenty-three, some two or three years older than the great majority of the crowd who are sent out annually as bachelors of arts ; but the later preparation was doubt less an advantage to him in the greater maturity of his powers. Our college studies, in fact, would be far better pursued by older students, more tho roughly grounded in the introductory apprenticeship to learning. The work of education, if accomplished at all, is in most cases, we are persuaded, to be begun over again by the pupil himself after the so called university course is ended. Mr. Polk carried his duties with him into active life; they were always self-imposed, and were with him a living reality. After taking his degree, though ill health pleaded for a relaxation from his diligent application to books, we find him soon commencing the study of the law with Felix Grundy, the eminent legal pioneer of the west, then established in the fullness of his pro fessional career at Nashville, with the additional eclat of successful statesman ship at Washington, as a member of the committee of Foreign Relations in the war administration of Madison. Association with such a preceptor, a man of vigorous mind, who had achieved distinction by the force of his own cha racter, must doubtless have exercised a leading influence upon a young man who had already given proof of his triumph over ordinarily adverse for tunes. Pursuing his legal studies for two years, he was in 1820 admitted to the bar, and returned from Nashville to pursue the profession in the region of his home at Columbia. His success, based upon his thorough acquisitions and the influence of his family associa tions, for there were numerous emi- JAMES KNOX POLK. 149 grants of his stock to the district, was so rapid that in less than a year he was acknowledged as a leading practitioner. He had already acquired fame and pro fit at the bar, when, in 1823, he had his first introduction to politioal life, or rather office, as a member from his county of Maury in the State legisla ture. A lawyer in the west at that time, and the remark may be applied more or less to the present day, was of necessity something of a politician, and we hear of Mr. Polk assisting the tradi tionary tendencies and conduct of his family by his earnest advocacy of the democratic policy. He was often called upon to address political gatherings, and acquitted himself, we are told, with credit and favor by a plain use of argument, without resort to the taudry and meretricious ornaments in which popular speakers so often feel themselves called upon to indulge. The success, in fact, of his life was due to quite other qualities to his simple, sincere, straightforward charac ter, and the confidence those who knew him derived from his manners and conduct. Mr. Polk remained two years in the Tennessee legislature, in the course of which he had the opportunity of ren dering important service to his early friend, Andrew Jackson, in his elec tion to the senate of the United States. Mr. Polk, at this time, was married to the daughter of Joel Chil- O dress, a merchant of Tennessee, a lady whose virtues and graces, in public and private life, in the prominent social theatre at Washington, are grate fully held in esteem by the nation. In 1825, Mr. Polk was elected a member of congress, took his seat in December, and was continued a member of that body for fourteen years. No one du ring this period was more completely identified with its proceedings. It embraced the vigorous period of his life, from thirty to forty-four. He ap peared on the floor of the House of Representatives, the representative, in all their integrity and severity, of the creed of strict construction which had grown out of the doctrines of the old Republican Jeffersonian party. lie was opposed to the recharter of the Bank of the United States, to a protective tariff, to wasteful expenditures in inter nal improvements ; he advocated econo my in the government. In all questions arising from the discussions, he was a zealous, persistent supporter of his party. In 1827, he was placed on the committee of foreign affairs; and du ring the administration of General Jackson, as head of the committee of ways and means, rendered the Presi dent the most important assistance in his vigorously conducted war against the United jStates Bank. His other more prominent position in the House was as speaker, to which he was elected at the opening of the session in 1835, and again at the session of 1837, with the conclusion of which he retired from congress, declining a reelection. The four years, during which he pre sided over the deliberations of the House, were marked by strong political excitement, and the duties of the office had grown, with the increase of con gress, to be of a more arduous charac ter. Through all discussions, however, 150 JAMES KNOX POLK. Mr. Polk pursued his steady, calm, in flexible course, always present, the most punctual man in the House, task ing his powers, it seemed to the stranger looking on the excited scene, beyond his strength, educing order out of chaos, dividing the knotty questions of debate with the skill and impartiality of an acute mind well practised in parlia mentary logic. The importance of the position has been more than once shown, since Mr. Folk s discharge of the office, in the protracted struggles at the commencement of new sessions of the House in the equal division of parties. It must always be regarded as a most distinguishing honor for any man, and the ability and energy of Mr. Polk will be honorably remembered in its annals. That Mr. Polk himself held a no less high sense of the dignity of his position may be gathered from the language in which he took leave of the House on the adjournment of that body in 1839. His brief review of his duties presents an extraordinary picture of duty faith fully performed and as honorably ap preciated. " When I look back to the period," was his language, " when I first took my seat in this House, and then look around me for those who were at that time my associates here, I find but few, very few, remaining. But five members who were here with me four teen years ago, continue to be members of this body. My service here has been constant and laborious. I can perhaps say what but what few others, if any, can, that I have not failed to attend the daily sittings of this House a single day since I have been a member of it, save on a single occasion, when pre vented for a short time by indisposi tion. In my intercourse with the mem bers of this body, when I occupied a place upon the floor, though occasion ally engaged in debates upon interest ing public questions and of an exciting character, it is a source of unmingled gratification to me to recur to the fact, that on no occasion was there the slightest personal or unpleasant colli sion with any of its members. Main taining, and at all times expressing, my own opinions firmly, the same right was fully conceded to others. For four years past, the station I have occupied, and a sense of propriety, in the divided and unusually exciting state of public opinion and feeling, which has existed both in this House and the country, have precluded me from participating in your debates. Other duties were assigned me. " The high office of Speaker, to which it has been twice the pleasure of the House to elevate me, has been at all times one of labor and high responsi bility. It has been made my duty to decide more questions of parliamentary law and order, many of them of a com plex and difficult character, arising often in the midst of high excitement, in the course of our proceedings, than had been decided, it is believed, by all my predecessors, from the foundation of the government. This House has uniformly sustained me, without dis tinction of the political parties of which it has been composed. I return them my thanks for their constant support in the discharge of the duties I have had to perform. ... I trust this JAMES KNOX POLK. 151 hiu r h office may in future times 1>e fill in!, as doubtless it will be, by abler men. It cannot, I know, be filled by any one who will devote himself with more zeal and untiring industry to do his whole duty, than I have done." Mr. Polk had hardly reached his home in Tennessee after his retirement from Congress, when he engaged in a diligent canvassing of the State as a can didate for governor at the approaching election. He was untiring in his devo tion to his object, and so successful was his energy, that he gained the election over his opponent, the incumbent of the office. His inaugural address, deli vered at Nashville in October, 1839, a remarkably clear and well-written com position, reviewed the leading distinc tive principles of his party the strict interpretation of the Constitution, in reference to express and implied pow ers ; the unconstitutionality and dangers of a national bank ; the evil of a surplus Federal revenue; the inviolability of slavery by Congress in the slave-hold ing States, and other well known posi tions. In his own State he encouraged and assisted a " well regulated system of internal improvement." His admi nistration was generally well received ; but when the time came for reelection, he shared the fortunes of his party and suffered a defeat. It was the moment of the popular whig triumph of Gene ral Harrison ; two years later his rival, Governor James C. Jones, was again successful in the contest. The next turn of the political wheel carried ex-Governor Polk to the Presi dency. A decided letter, written by him in favor of the annexation of Texas, brought him favorably before the Bal timore Convention of May, 1844, when that nominating body had exhausted the roll of prior candidates. On the ninth ballot, after Van Buren, Cass and others had been set aside, he received the requisite two-thirds vote and be came the candidate of the party. In accepting the nomination, he avowed his intention, in the event of his elec tion, not to be a candidate for a second term. The contest between the two tickets, Polk and Dallas, Clay and Frelinghuysen, resulted in the electoral college in a majority for the former ticket of sixty-five. Fifteen States voted for Polk ; eleven, and among them Ten nessee, by a small majority, for Clay. The successful candidate was duly in augurated at Washington in March, 1845. The leading measures,- or rather the chief events, of Polk s administration of the Presidency were the adjustment of the Oregon question with England, and the War with Mexico. In the former he took ground in his inaugural and annual message, in accordance with the resolutions of the Baltimore nominating convention, in favor of the claim to the whole of the territory, a position which, while maintaining his view of the matter, he in a measure yielded to the will of the Senate in their accept ance of the terms of the British govern ment. The treaty was signed in June, 1846. A month before this, Congress officially recognized, by its declaration, the existence of war with Mexico. Of the events of that war, of which Presi dent Polk must be considered the in fluential agent, it is not necessary here 152 JAMES KNOX POLK. to speak in detail. Its progress was, upon the whole, so honorable to the arms of the country, as victory after victory was chronicled in the move ments of the great campaigns of Taylor and Scott, and the conduct of the war, at its termination, was so moderate in imposing the conditions of peace at an early moment, that much of the oppo sition to its commencement was happily neutralized. The immediate settlement of California, and its brilliant progress in civilization, under the stimulus of the gold discovery, have also thrown a halo over the war. Its ulterior effects are yet to be read in history; but, what ever be the result, the date of the acqui sition of so wide a region of territory bordering upon the great ocean of the West, and so rounding the world to the fabled regions of the East, and its influ ence upon the welfare of countless numbers of the human race, will always mark the period of the administration of President Polk. Of the unexpected results of the war, probably the least looked for was the development of one of its least known officers at the outset, into his successor in the presidential chair. President Polk, having accom panied General Taylor to the inaugural ceremonies at the capitol on the fifth of "March, 1849, retired to his home at Nashville, taking Charleston and New Orleans by the way. lie made the journey in safety, though an attack of diarrhoea, in his ascent of the Missis sippi, and the inevitable fatigue of tra vel, probably somewhat enfeebled his powers. He reached home to occupy the mansion and grounds in the heart of the city, formerly occupied by Sena tor Grundy, of which he had become the purchaser ; but he was not destined to enjoy them long. An attack of the chronic diarrhsea to which he was sub ject proved unmanageable by his phy sicians, and after a few days illness his powers of life were exhausted. His death took place on the fifteenth of June, 1849, in his fifty-fourth year, little more than three months after his retire ment from the Presidency. In person Mr. Polk was spare, of the middle height, with a bright, expressive eye, and ample, angular forehead. Of his personal character we may cite the words of his biog rapher: "He was simple and plain in all his habits. His private life, was upright and blameless. Honesty and integrity characterized his intercourse with his fellow men ; fidelity and affec tion his relations to his family. In his friendships he was frank and sincere; and courteous and affable in his dispo sition. He was generous and benevo lent ; but his charities, like his charac ter, were unostentatious. He was pious, too, sincerely ; his wife was a member of the Presbyterian church, but he never united with any denomination, though on his dying bed he received the rite of baptism at the hands of a Methodist clergyman, an old neighbor and friend." * 1 The Life of James Knox Polk, by John S. Jenkins. ZACHARY TAYLOR. OF the modern heroes of America few stand out so simply and distinctly, so " clear in their great office," as Gene ral Zacliary Taylor. His character was of remarkable purity, distinguished by equal worth and modesty. When he suddenly became celebrated in the Mexican war, it was found that, though unknown to fame, he had deserved re putation by his gallant conduct in 1812, and subsequently in Florida. He was known and respected in the army ; but there had been no blazon of his deeds in the newspapers. He was con tent with the performance of his duty. This was a motto and reward all suffi cient to his mind. The type of cha racter which distinguishes him is that of the elder worthies of the Revolution, the Scliuylers, Moultries and Pinck- neys. Zachary Taylor was born in Orange county, Virginia, November 24, 1784, of a family, English in its origin, which had long been settled in the colony. His father, a man of a brave, adventur ous turn, familiarly known among his brother pioneers as Captain Dick Tay lor, emigrated when the child was not a year old, to the western part of the State, what was then known as " the dark and bloody ground" of Indian strife the present Kentucky. There 20 the boy had his training in the rude, hearty, independent pursuits of frontier life. We hear something of his school master, the approved migratory New England pedagogue, who, when his pupil became celebrated, remembered him as "a very active and sensible boy." Of his good sense we have no doubt, for it was a quality which marked him through life ; while, of his activity, there is a story related of his younger days, of his swimming across the Ohio, from the Kentucky to the Indiana shore, stemming a freezing flood in March. His entry in the army dates from that memorable period of the attack of the Shannon upon the Chesapeake, the fountain of many woes and glories in the national annals. His father, who was something of a politician, procured him the appointment from Jefferson s administration in 1808 of lieutenant in the Seventh United States infantry. He thus commenced his career in the regular service. Two years later the young man is married to Miss Margaret Smith of Maryland. Immediately upon the declaration of war with England in 1812, we find him engaged under Gen eral Harrison in the protection of the northwestern territory against the at tacks of the Indians. His defence, in 153 154 ZACHARY TAYLOR. that year, of Fort Harrison, on the Wabash, in the territory of Indiana, against an attack of the Mianris, is one of the memorable incidents of the war. This fort, built by the general whose name it bears, was situated on the upper part of the river, above the present town of Terre Haute. It was defended by pickets on three sides, with a row of barracks and a block house at either end on the fourth. Captain Taylor was left in charge of the work with a small company of men, in the words of his dispatch to General Harrison, " not more than ten or fifteen able to do a great deal, the others being either sick or convales cent." He had warning of the threat ened approach of a party of the Pro phet s men the attack belonging to that series of movements instigated by Tecumseh and his brother and though for some time he had not considered the post tenable against a large force, he prepared to defend it to the best of his ability. On the third of September, two young men, making hay in the neighborhood of the fort, were picked off by the Indians, and the next night they came in numbers to the assault. They began by firing one of the block-houses, which endangered the whole line of barracks. Captain Tay lor, almost disabled from a severe fever, rallied his little force of invalids to extinguish it, but the fire having communicated to a stock of whisky in the building, soon ascended to the roof, and his efforts had to be directed to the adjoining houses. The situation was desperate. In his own simple words , u Sir, what from the raging of the fire, the yelling and howling of several hundred Indians, the cries of nine women and children, part sol diers and part citizens wives, who had taken refuge in the fort, and the de sponding of so many men, which was worse than all, I can assure you that my feelings were unpleasant." But, by his own energy, and the assistance of Surgeon Clark, the only one to aid him in the command, the roof was stripped from the next building and water from the well applied to the exposed por tions. The line was saved, and the open space of the fire defended by a temporary breastwork. All this was done under the enemy s fire of bullets and arrows, lasting for seven hours, the flames lighting up the men at work as marks for the hostile missiles. When daylight came the fire was returned with effect, and the Indians took their departure, slaughtering the horses in the vicinity, and driving off a large stock of cattle ; what with this and the stores lost in the conflagration, leaving the garrison to a diet of green corn. For this spirited defence, President Madison conferred upon Taylor the brevet rank of major. On the reorganization of the army after the peace, it was proposed to de prive him of this rank, which he re sented, and would have retired to an agricultural life had not the govern ment, by yielding, retained him in the army. He was employed in the Indian service in various ways, and in the Black Hawk war of 1832 appears in the field, taking an active part as colo nel in the concluding battle of the Bad Axe river. His next scene of opera- ZACIIAUY TAVLOIl. 155 was the Florida war, a field of irre.-iter difficulty than glory. He was ordered to this service in 1836, and in inber of the following year led an expedition of about a thousand men, a few volunteers and the rest regulars, from Fort Gardiner toward Lake Oke- chobee, in the immediate neighborhood of which the enemy, some seven hun dred strong, were encamped in a ham mock. As the place was approached, it was found to be protected in front by a swamp three quarters of a mile in breadth. It was "totally impassable for horses, and nearly so for foot, cov ered with a thick growth of saw-errass o o five feet high, and about knee deep in mud and water." This was to be crossed to get within range of the foe, who fought from behind trees with every advantage of position. In the arrangement of the attack, the volun teers were sent forward with directions to fall back, if necessary, while the regulars would sustain them. They advanced, were fired upon, their com mander Colonel Gentry of Missouri slain, when they retreated. The regu lars then made their way through the high, stiff grass, suffering heavy losses ; the place of the fallen was succeeded by others, and the enemy finally driven to the lake in confusion. The action lasted from half-past twelve till three KM. It was one of the important vic tories of the war, it being exceedingly difficult to get the Indians to stand in battle in any numbers. Here nothing but the most tried valor could prevail against them. Colonel Taylor s loss was very heavy, both in officers, as was usual in this war, and in men. In his dispatch, he stops to express his feeling for the wounded. " Here," says he, " I trust I may be permitted to say that I experienced one of the most trying scenes of my life, and he who could have looked on it with indifference, his nerves must have been differently or ganized from my own." His management of this affair and general efficiency in the campaign were rewarded with the brevet rank of bri gadier-general, and shortly after with the chief command in the State, which he held till the arrival of General Macomb. General Taylor s plan was to divide the whole region into a series of military districts, each presided over by a fort or stockade, whence the troops might take the aggressive on occasion. He was employed in Florida two years later till 1840, when he was assigned to the command of the southwestern divi sion of the army, and had his head quarters at Fort Jesup, Louisiana. This brought him within the line of employ ment in Texas, when, on the annexation of that country to the United States, it ! became necessary to protect her west ern frontier from Mexican invasion. He was consequently ordered to the district in June, 1845, and immediately established his headquarters at Corpus Christi, on the west bank of the Nueces, at its mouth. There the " army of ob servation" gradually augmented, with the progress of war alarms, to a force of nearly four thousand men, the " army of occupation," remained many months, till March of the following year, when its commander received directions to advance to the ultimate boundary, the Rio Grande. The march of seventeen 156 ZACHARY TAYLOR. days was made across the intervening desert, meeting with no opposition of consequence up to the time of arrival at the point of the river opposite Mata- moras, on the twenty-eighth of the month. A nag-staff was immediately erected on the spot, and the American ensign raised, as the bands played the national airs " Yankee Doodle " and "The Star-spangled Banner." This vi cinity was destined to be the scene of several formidable conflicts. We shall not trench upon the province of history to pursue the movements here with any great minuteness ; but shall touch light ly upon the main incidents of the cam paign, which leads us over the battle fields of Palo Alto, Resaca de la Palma, to the storming of Monterey and the great struggle at Buena Vista, The place at which the army first rested was within sight of the enemy s headquarters at Matamoras, separated only by the intervening river. There having taken his station, and, as he told the Mexican authorities, in accordance with the instructions of his government, being determined to remain, the first employment of General Taylor, of course, was to provide some adequate defences the more as he was in face of a considerable body of the foe, to whom large reinforcements, commanded by experienced generals, were already on the way, and war was no longer a matter of uncertainty. A camp was established, and the extensive work, Fort Brown, on the bank of the river, commanding the opposite town, com menced. Point Isabel, a day s march distant in the rear, on the coast, the first harbor to the north of the Kio Grande, was the depot for supplies. General Taylor in his advance had taken possession of this place, and left a small garrison for its protection. On the twelfth of April, General Ampudia, having arrived at Matamoras with rein forcements, and taken the command, addressed a communication to General Taylor, requiring him within twenty- four hours to retire to the Nueces while the Texas question was under discus sion between the two governments, or accept the alternative of a resort to arms. To this the American com mander replied, that he had been or dered to occupy the country to the left bank of the Rio Grande till the boun dary should be definitely settled ; that in discharging this duty, he had care fully abstained from all acts of hostility, and that the instructions under which he was acting would not permit him to retrograde from the position he occu pied ; and as for war, while he regretted the alternative, he should not avoid it, but " leave the responsibility with those who rashly commence hostilities." After this the military proceedings thickened apace. The right bank of the river, above and below the camp, swarmed with the irregular troops of the enemy. Colonel Trueman Cross, as sistant quartermaster-general, already, on the tenth, had been murdered, as he was taking his usual ride in the neigh borhood of the camp. On the twenty- fourth a communication came from Gen eral Arista, who had succeeded Ampudia in the command, conveying a further declaration of hostilities ; and simulta neously word reached the camp of the crossing of the enemy in considerable ZACHARY TAYLOR. 157 numbers. Captain Thornton, sent above (connoitre, was erarpxued in a plan tation inclosure, and his little force cap tured. Below, Point Isabel was in dan ger of being cut off, an obvious move ment of the enemy, which required all the vigilance of General Taylor to coun teract. Leaving, accordingly, a sufficient garrison for the defence of Fort Brown, he set out, on the first of May, with the main body of his troops, for the relief of that important station. lie arrived at the place without interruption, ac complished his purpose in adding to its strength, and, on the seventh, invited by the signal guns of Fort Brown, which was suffering a bombardment, began his return, with about twenty- two hundred men, bringing with him two eighteen-pounders, in addition to the artillery he had taken with him, and a large train of wagons. About noon on the following day, the Mexican troops were reported in front, and were soon found occupying the road, on an open prairie skirted by a growth of chaparral. This was the field of Palo Alto, so named from the thickets rising above the general level. The Mexi cans, six thousand in number, com manded by General Arista, were drawn up in a single line, " artillery, infantry and cavalry placed alternately, forming a living wall more than a mile in ex tent, of physical strength, of steel and latent fire." 1 The American force was di>posed by General Taylor with lesrf regularity, but mostly in a parallel out line. The right wing, comprising the 1 Thorpe s " Our Army on the Rio Grande," p. 74. larger part of the force, including Ring- gold s artillery and the eighteen-pound- crs, was under the orders of Colonel Twiggs; the left was commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Belknap. The train was protected by a squadron of dra goons in the rear. Having made these arrangements, General Taylor coolly directed the men to stack their arms, march in companies, and supply them selves with the fresh water of the ad joining ponds in place of the brackish water with which they had been fur nished at Point Isabel. The columns then advanced, when the engagement was commenced, shortly after two in the afternoon, by the Mexican batte ries. This fire was promptly met by the whole American artillery, the eight een-pounders, drawn up in the road, and Ringgold s pieces doing eminent execution. An important movement of the enemy s cavalry, fifteen hundred strong, led by General Torrejon, on the right, threatening the flank, was de feated by the fifth infantry, the flying artillery and Captain Walker s Texan volunteers. While this was proceeding, the dry grass of the prairie took fire and swept a volume of smoke over the field, partially concealing the armies from one another. Under cover of this obscuration, the line of the enemy, which had suffered from the artillery, was reformed in the rear of its first position, and the American correspond ingly advanced. After a pause of about an hour, the fire was reopened, the action being confined chiefly to the artillery on both sides. The superi ority of the American fire was un doubted ; but it was dearly purchased, 158 ZACHARY TAYLOR. by the loss of the gallant Major Ring- gold, whose name is identified with this effective arm of the service. The day closed with a brilliant attack from the enemy s right, which was met with great spirit by Captain Duncan s artil lery. In the darkness of the evening the enemy retired to a new position, and the wearied Americans slept on their battle-field, their general spreading his blanket on the grass in the midst of the troops. The loss of the Mexicans was much heavier than that of our own forces; the commander of the former reporting two hundred and fifty-two killed, wounded and missing, while General Taylor s dispatch numbers only seven killed, including three officers, and thirty-nine wounded an apparent ly small number of either army, consi dering the strength on both sides of the artillery and the skill with which it was served on a level plain. The next day brought the battle of Resaca de la Palma. Early in the morning the enemy had retired toward Matamoras, to a strong position at a ravine, crossed by the road and sur rounded by a thick growth of chaparral. The approach on the highway was de fended by a strongly posted force of ar tillery. Thither the foe were pursued by General Taylor, who, spite of the supe riority of numbers confronting him, ex pressed his determination to be at Fort Brown before night. Having provided for the safety of the supply-train, he commenced the attack about three in the afternoon, by advancing a large body of skirmishers and the battery of Lieutenant Ridgely. The latter took up a position on the road. Owing to the nature of the ground, the engage ment which ensued was of an entirely different character from that of the preceding day. The enemy were shel tered by the ravine on both its sides. The growth in front, beside the pro tection of the rising ground, impeded the free play of the American artil lery. As the enemy s cannon com manded the only accessible approach by the road, it became evident to Gen eral Taylor, after sending forward his infantry, that however the latter might discharge their duty and they did make, in his own language, " resistless progress" nothing decisive could be accomplished till that fire was silenced. He consequently sent to the rear for the gallant Captain May and his dra goons, and committed to them the work. "You must charge the enemies batte ries, and take them," was the general s language. " I will do it," was May s response. And, ardent as the onset of the six hundred at Balaclava, " into the jaws of death," but not so purposeless, sped the brave captain and his troop. Waiting a few moments for Ridgely at his battery, three hundred yards dis tant, to draw the fire of the enemy s artillery, he galloped furiously over the road, followed by his company, to re ceive the fire of the inner battery, which levelled at one discharge eighteen horses and seven men of his troop, Lieutenant Inge, one of the number, at his side. But the battery was swept of its de fenders ; and though May, unsupported by infantry, exposed as he was to a shower of grape and musketry, was compelled to retire, he fought his way out of the mass of the foe, bringing ZACHARY TAYLOR. l.Vt with liiiD to the camp an eminent prisoner of war, General La Vega, a brave officer, whom lie had found the last at the guns, rallying his flying sol diers to their duty. Infantry were meanwhile ordered up, and the advant age of the charge secured in driving the enemy from their artillery on the left. On the right a breastwork was stormed, its gun taken, and other successes achiev ed, completing the rout in this quarter, including the capture of the general s camp, with all his official correspond ence. The artillery battalion left to guard the train, with other forces, were now ordered in pursuit, and the flying army was driven to the river, where many perished in the attempt to escape. " In the camp of the army," says an in teresting narrator of these scenes, " were found the preparations for a great festi val, no doubt to follow the expected victory. The camp-kettles were sim mering over the fires, filled^vith savory viands, off of which our troops made a plentiful evening meal. In the road were carcasses of half-skinned oxen. The hangers-on of the camp, while the battle was raging, were busy in their feast-preparing work, unconscious of dangers, when, on an instant, a sudden panic must have seized them, and they fled, leaving their half-completed la bors to be consummated by our own troops." 1 Seventeen hundred was the number of General Taylor s force engaged with the Mexicans. His loss was three offi cers, Lieutenants Inge, Cochrane and Chadbourne, and thirty-six men killed ; 1 Thorpe s "Our Army on tin- Rif Grande," p. 104. twelve officers and seventy men wound ed. General Tayloy, in his dispatch, estimated the Mexican loss, killed, wounded and missing, during the two days, at not less than one thousand men. In a dispatch from the field that niecht, he wrote with characteristic sim- O plicity : " The affair of to-day may be regarded as a proper supplement to the cannonade of yesterday ; and the two taken together exhibit the coolness and gallantry of our officers and men in the most favorable light. All have done their duty, and done it nobly." A few days, in a fuller report, he added: " Our victory has been decisive. A small force has overcome immense odds of the best troops that Mexico can furnish veteran regiments, perfectly equipped and appointed. Eight pieces of artillery, several colors and stand ards, a great number of prisoners, in cluding fourteen Officers, and a large amount of baggage and public property, have fallen into our hands." This decided success established the fortunes of General Taylor s Mexican campaign. Everything had been put to the hazard, and everything gained. The force which he commanded, large enough for resistance, too small, appa rently, for conquest, invited the attack of the superior hosts. Victory ap peared an easy matter to the Mexican general, who had the choice of the ground, and who was enabled to divide the little American army between the field and the fort. His supplies were at hand in a considerable city with a chain of towns in its rear, reaching into the heart of the country. He had made every calculation for success. While he 160 ZACHARY TAYLOR. was attacking the Americans on their march by a well-planned military move ment, the batteries of Matamoras were at work on Fort Brown. One thing only was wanting to his forces, the des perate courage for an assault. If this nerve of the bayonet had been supplied, Arista might, with his numbers and resources, have done with ease what Jackson and his defenders at New Or leans so bravely accomplished, and swept his enemies into the sea. But he had other stuff in his ranks. If the Mexicans at the outset were naturally confident of success, the Ame ricans at home trembled for the fate of General Taylor s expedition, and the moral effect of his victory, in the same proportion, disheartened the one and elevated the other. The brave troops on the Rio Grande, it was felt, had re paired the over confidence of the ad ministration at Washington. General Taylor had achieved not only a military success, but he had rescued the country from the risk of disgrace. Nothing 3ould have been better contrived than the unintentional conduct of the go vernment, for the creation of a hero. The American general was placed in a position where the greatest glory was to be reached with the smallest com mand. The Mexican army was completely disorganized at Matamoras. Their can nonading of Fort Brown had ceased with the defeat of their army, and little was to be thought of but surrender. General Taylor was soon on hand to hasten the movement. After the duty to the dead and wounded had been performed, he proceeded to Point Isa bel to confer with Commodore Conner, who had brought up his fleet to the assistance of the imperilled little army. The story is, that the etiquette of this meeting severely taxed the resources of the brave general s wardrobe. Long accustomed to frontier warfare and pro tracted Indian campaigns, where there was more rough labor to be performed than military pomp to be indulged, Old Zach, as he was affectionately and fami liarly called, had adapted his dress to the exigency of the climate and service. His linen roundabout was far better known in the camp than his uniform. Thinking, however, that something was due from the commander-in- chief of the army to the head of the navy, who was understood to be punctilious in dress, he painfully arrayed himself in the re gulation coat, fished from the depths of his chest; while the gallant commodore, knowing the habits of the general, in an equally<enerous spirit of concession, clothed himself for the interview in a simple suit of drilling. After this, it is said, Old Zach returned more sedu lously than ever to his wonted simpli city of attire. All his habits, indeed, partook of the same plain convenience. Hardy and unostentatious in his mode of living, he was accustomed to the rough fare of the camp and an .unpre tending tent sufficed for the dignity of his headquarters. The proper arrangements having been made at Point Isabel, General Taylor hastened again to the camp over a road no longer interrupted by Arista and his host. His next movement was to take possession of Matamoras, peaceably if he could, forcibly if he must. Upon ZACHARY TAYLOR. K51 his making his preparations for the latter, the discreet course appeared preferable to the Mexicans, and the town was given up, on the eighteenth of the month, to the army of occupa tion. Arista had fled, with such of his troops as were in a condition to travel, leaving the place to the hostilities of the Americans, which proved much kinder than the tender mercies of the defenders. The summer was passed by General Taylor at Matamoras, receiving the recruits, who, summoned by the first signal of danger, were now pouring to the Rio Grande. The means of ad vance had also to be collected, and the force organized to pursue the enemy in the interior. Monterey to the west, at the foot of the Sierra Madre, where General Ampudia, who .had succeeded Arista in the command, had established hirnself.with a considerable body of troops, was the first object of attack. Sending forward his forces by the Rio Grande to Camargo, General Taylor thence pursued his way across the desert, reaching the San Juan, in the immediate neighborhood of Monterey, on the nineteenth of September. From that moment the brave and toilsome operations of the attack, which was con- tiuued for five days, may be said to have commenced. The town, thoroughly ca pable of defence, was manned by a gar rison of ten thousand men, more than t\\-< >-thirds of whom were regular troops, with a defence of forty-two pieces of cannon ; its outworks were important, and the most extensive preparations of barricades and batteries were made within. The entire force General Tay- 21 lor brought against it, numbered six thousand, six hundred and seventy-five. lie had no siege train, which might be thought indispensable to the work he was about to undertake, and an artillery force of only one ten-inch mortar, two twenty-four pounder howitzers, and ; four light field batteries of four guns each. The first observation of the town convinced General Taylor that it might be turned on its westerly side, where the only means of eseape to its occupants lay in the road to Saltillo. There were important detached works on that side, but the main defences were in the citadel on the north, the rwer and a series of redoubts on the southerly and easterly approaches. The reconnaisance was made after General Taylor s arrival on the nineteenth ; on the twentieth, General Worth moved with his command toward the Saltillo road to carry out the plan of the com- mander-in-chief. The latter himself directed the proceedings on the east. The main points, and they were highly important ones, accomplished by Gene ral Worth on that day of hard fighting, the twenty-first, were the occupation of the road, and the storming of the works at the heights, adjacent to the city on the west. Turning to General Taylor s special command, we find him at the same time directing an attack O on the opposite side of the town, which was conducted with such gallantly, in the face of a murderous cross-fire from the forts, that the streets of the city were gained, and the roof of one of its buildings taken advantage of to assail with musketry the defenders of the 162 ZACHARY TAYLOR. fort commanding this approach, wliicli was also attacked from tlie outer side. Under this combination the fort fell. It was the important success of the day. In General Taylor s words, "the main object proposed in the morning had been eifected. A powerful diver sion had been made to favor the opera tions of the second division (General Worth s) ; one of the enemy s advanced works had been carried, and we now had a strong foothold in the town." The loss in achieving this result, may indicate the gallantry with which it was accomplished. The number killed and wounded, in these operations in the lower part of the city that day, WAS three hundred and ninety-four. The next, the twenty-second, saw the com pletion of General Worth s design in the capture of the Bishop s Palace on Independence Hill, that work being commanded by the position he had stormed the day before. General Tay lor employed the day in relieving his troops who had passed the night on the lower side of the town, and main taining his advantages in that quarter. It was now evident that the city, being commanded from either end, must in due time surrender. The military event of the twenty-third, the third great day of the siege, was the advance into the town of the volunteers under Gen erals Quitman and Henderson, sup ported by Captain Bragg s battery. From house to house, from square to square, the advance against the strong barriers was gained by musketry from the roofs, by grape-shot in the streets, to a position but a single square dis tant from the principal plaza, where the enemy s force was mainly concen trated. A similar advance was made into the city from the opposite side by General Worth. The work of the next day, had it been necessary to continue the assault, would have been a last, short, bloody, decisive struggle. For tunately, it was spared by a capitula tion. The outcries of the townspeople, no less than the necessities of the gar rison, compelled the surrender. On the morning of the twenty-fourth, a communication was received by Gene ral Taylor from General Ampudia, stating that having made the defence of which he thought the city suscepti ble, he had "fulfilled his duty, and satisfied that military honor which, in a certain manner, is common to all armies of the civilized world." To" continue the defence, he sai4, would only be further to distress the pop ulation which had suffered enough already: he, therefore, proposed to evacuate the city and fort, carrying with him the personnel and materiel of war. In answer to this, a complete surrender of the town and garrison as prisoners of war was demanded; but such surrender, it was added, would be upon terms recognizing by their libe rality " the gallant defence of the place, creditable alike to the Mexican troops and nation." The hour of twelve was appointed to determine the question. At that time the two chiefs met to arrange the terms of surrender. Gen eral Ampudia, not satisfied with the proposition offered, insisted upon his original conditions; and General Tay- ZACHARY TAYLOR. 163 lor, who had made up his mind, was in consequence on the point of breaking up the conference, when a suggestion was offered and reluctantly accepted by him, to refer the negotiation to a body of commissioners on both sides. General Worth, General Henderson, and Colonel Jefferson Davis acted for the Americans. With some difficulty the terms were arranged. The town and citadel, with the arms and muni tions of war were surrendered, the Mexican forces to retire the officers with their side arms, the cavalry with their arms and accoutrements, the artil lery with one field battery within seven days beyond the line formed by the pass of Linconada, the city of Linares and San Fernando de Preras; and an armistice of eight weeks to be entered upon. The Mexican flag, when struck at the citadel, was to be saluted by its own battery. That ceremony was pel-formed on the morning of the twenty-fifth. The American flag was o unfolded, and the Mexican troops took their departure. It was a brilliant suc cess in the taking of a town. Its cost, as summed up by General Taylor in his dispatch, was twelve officers and one hundred and eight men killed ; thirty-one officers and three hundred and thirty-seven men wounded. It was thought by the government at Washington that too favorable terms had been allowed the enemy in the capitulation, that their surrender should have been unconditional, and that the armistice should not have been granted. o But those who made the negotiation were governed by sound motives, both of policy and humanity. They might, indeed, have completed the conquest at the plaza and taken the citadel; but it would have been at an enormous cost of life, both to victors and vanquished ; much property would have been de stroyed which was saved by the nego tiation ; nor had General Taylor a force sufficient to guard all the avenues of escape to so great a body of men. Moreover, the prospect of peace was urged by the Mexican General in con sequence of the return of Santa Anna, which had been more than winked at, with this view, by the American gov ernment itself, which had indeed pre viously proffered peace negotiations. As for the armistice, the little army at Monterey was at any rate unable to move for some time, until reinforce ments should arrive, upon any further considerable expedition into the inte rior. It had but ten days rations at the time of the capitulation, and had been all along deficient in wagons. So that, on many grounds, the negotiation of General Taylor was to be justified. These military successes, however brilliant as they were, were unproduc tive of the desirable result of "con quering a peace" from the enemy. The very humiliation which they in flicted, only roused the spirit of the country to greater resistance, and what ever peace intentions General Santa Anna, now placed at the head of affairs, had when he landed at Vera Cruz, he was clearly unable to carry them out while the Americans were thus constantly victorious. For the purposes of the war, it might have been good policy of the invaders to have suffered a defeat, to humor na- 164 ZACHARY TAYLOR. tional pride, and smooth the way to negotiation and concession. Defeat was not, however, a word to be found in the military vocabulary of Old Zach. He had an indomitable, unreasoning soldier s logic, which led him by a very short path to one single conclusion, that victory was the business of war; and well or ill provided with such resources as he had, in the face of whatever obstacles might be in the way, he went straight forward to that result. He made no noisy demonstrations, but took his ground boldly and fought to the end. His last battle was to crown the whole. The circumstances under which the engagement at Buena Vista was fought, render it the most memorable of the whole campaign. The government at Washington having come to the con clusion that their system of border attack, however well pursued, would not end the war, determined to strike at the heart of the country, its capital, by its great avenue of approach, the line of Vera Cruz. In the month of November, General Scott was ordered to the Gulf of Mexico to take such measures, as in his judgment he might think proper, to carry the resolution into effect. General Taylor, in this arrangement, was to be left on the Rio Grande, with a force barely sufficient to maintain a defensive position, while he yielded to Scott, for his more bril liant service, the best part of his troops, the tried regulars who had fought with him from Corpus Christi along the line of battles to Monterey. General Scott arrived at the Rio Grande about the first of January, 1847, and began to collect the forces for his expedition. The important divisions of General Worth, Twiggs, Quitman, arid other choice troops, artillery and volunteers, were stripped from General Taylor s command, and his plan of operations at Victoria and other advanced places in the interior entirely broken up. Nothing further was expected of him than to defend himself at Monterey, should Santa Anna, who was in great force at San Luis Potosi, extend his movements in that direction. The Mexican General, who had become aware of the plans of his foe by an intercepted dispatch, was thought more likely to turn his attention to the intended landing; at Vera Cruz. He O determined, however, to strike a blow with his large army, which seemed quite sufficient to sweep every Ameri can from the neighborhood of the Rio Grande. He accordingly marched with his twenty thousand men toward the position, in the vicinity of Saltillo, of General Taylor and his bands of volun teers. Among the latter was the new and important command of General Wool, which had just reached the scene of action from an overland march through Texas. To this officer belongs the credit of the selection of the pass where the Americans so well defended themselves: it was his fortune, being left in command at the point, to open the battle ; and to him were specially entrusted some of the most important movements of the daj. It Avas an admirably chosen ground for defence, a narrow valley enclosed on either hand by lofty mountains, with seamed ZACIIARY TAYLOR. 165 and broken ground, with the on the road additionally protected by a river course and deep ravine at its side. The best naturally guarded ground of the whole, where the mountain on one side and the ravine on the other ap proached nearest each other, the Pass of Angostura, was that taken for the American stand. There, on the morn ing of the twenty-second of February, Washington s birthday, as the enemy made his appearance, the road was defended by a battery of eight guns, supported on either hand by companies of infantry. The remaining troops were placed, in advantageous positions, on a plateau and amidst the ravines, across the whole breadth of the valley. These dispositions were made by Gene ral Wool, General Taylor having been during the night at Saltillo, to provide against a threatened attack in that quarter. He presently came up, bring ing with him additional troops, and assumed the command. At eleven o clock, a summons was received from Santa Anna to surrender. "You are surrounded," was the lan guage of this communication, "by twenty thousand men, and cannot, in any hulnan probability, avoid suffering a rout and being cut to pieces with your troops; but as you deserve con sideration and particular esteem, I wish to save you from a catastrophe, and for that purpose give you this notice, in order that you may surrender at dis cretion, under the assurance that you will be treated with the consideration belonging to the Mexican character, to which end you will be granted an hour s time to make up your mind, to commence from the moment when my flag of truce arrives in your camp ;" to all which considerate attention, Za- chary Taylor sent the following brief sentence " Sir : In reply to your note of this date, summoning me to sur render my forces at discretion, I beg leave to say that I decline acceding to your request." So the battle was in augurated. There was some skirmish ing in the afternoon, as the Mexicans felt their way preparatory to the action of the twenty-third. General Taylor again passed the night at Saltillo, his presence there being necessary to as sure the defence of the place which was now more seriously threatened. Before his return to the pass, the ene my, at daylight, had commenced their attack. It was made with great force, and with varying success. There was danger of the American position being completely turned, but by a series of skillful manceuvres, admirably exe cuted, and sustained by the artillery and companies of volunteers, the ene my was driven back. An incident occurred in this re pulse, which for its bearing upon the personal character of General Tay lor, may be separated from the mass of details of this engagement lying before us. " It was during this re treat," says Mr. Dawson in his account of the action, " that two thousand Mexicans, anxious to escape the fire in their rear, as well as a destructive fire on their flank from the troops on the plateau, had sought shelter in the recesses of the mountains, and were huddled together in a helpless, disor derly mass. At this moment the good- 166 ZA CHARY TAYLOR. ness of General Taylor s heart inter ceded in their behalf, notwithstanding they were enemies; and he hesitated before sacrificing a single life even that of an enemy unnecessarily. With the merciful desire of saving life, there fore, he dispatched Lieutenant Critten- den, his aid-de-ccimp > with a flag, and demanded the surrender of the party ; but instead of complying with the demand, the Mexicans availed them selves of the opportunity afforded them, and marched out of the gorge, while the troops under General Wool, under orders from General Taylor, silently looked on, without being permitted to fire a shot, or take a step to prevent their escape." 1 One last eifort was left to be di rected by Santa Anna himself. Ral lying his forces for an overwhelm ing attack on the central plateau, he would have gained that important position had he not been met by the American artillery, the Mississippi rifles, and other companies suddenly brought into position against him. It was on this occasion that General Tay lor, as the fortune of the day stood in the balance, coolly uttered his memora ble advice to his artillerist, "A little more grape, Captain Bragg ! " Let him tell the story in the usual simple words of his own dispatch, where we may be sure we shall hear nothing of this dra matic point. "The moment was most critical. Captain O Brien, with two pieces, had sustained the heavy charge to the last, and was finally obliged to leave his guns on the field his infantry 1 Battles of the United States, II. 496. support being entirely routed. Cap tain Bragg, who had just arrived from the left, was ordered at once into bat tery. Without any infantry to support him, and at the imminent risk of losing his guns, this officer came rapidly into action, the Mexican line being but a few yards from the muzzle of his pieces. The first discharge of canister caused the enemy to hesitate ; the second and third drove him back in disorder and saved the day." There were other ser vices rendered in the final repulse, but for them and the merits of particular officers and companies in the battle, we must refer the reader to the various dispatches and military narratives of the day. Let one brief passage from General Taylor s narrative declare the spirit .which ruled the gallant bands of volun teers, nearly all for the first time under fire on that occasion. " No further attempt," he writes in his official ac count, " was made by the enemy to force our position, and the approach of night gave an opportunity to pay pro per attention to the wounded, and also to refresh the soldiers, who had been exhausted by incessant watchfulness and combat. Though the night was severely cold, the troops were compelled for the most to bivouac without fires, expecting that morning would renew the conflict. During the night the wound ed were removed to Saltillo, and every preparation made to receive the enemy, should he again attack our position." The enemy, however, made no such attempt. Leaving his wounded on the way, he made good his retreat to San Luis Potosi. The few figures with ZACIIARY TAYLOR. which the stories of all battles eiul will tell better than auirht else the heroism O of the brave encounter. The American force engaged was three hundred and thirty-four officers and four thousand four hundred and twenty-five men, of which two squadrons of cavalry and three batteries of light artillery, making not more than four hundred and fifty- three men, composed the only force of regular troops. The Mexican forces, we have seen stated by Santa Anna himself, at twenty thousand, an esti mate confirmed by all subsequent in formation. The American loss was two hundred and sixty-seven killed, four hundred and fifty-six wounded and twenty-three missing. The Mexican loss was computed by General Taylor at between fifteen hundred and two thousand. At least five hundred killed were left on the field of battle. Thus closed General Taylor s connec tion with the active operations of the Mexican War. He was for some time engaged in camp duties, when he re- quested leave of absence to attend to the duties of his plantations on the Mississippi. His home was at Baton Rouge, Louisiana, the residence also of his estimable son-in-law the late Colonel Bliss, a member of his staff during his Mexican campaigns. The battle of Buena Vista, was, as we have seen, fought at the end of February, 1847. Just two years from that time, March 4, 1849, its brave and modest commander was installed as President of the United States at Wash ington. The two events may safely be put in conjunction, for one proceeded directly out of the other. General Tay lor, as Senator Benton remarked, was the first President elected upon a repu tation purely military. lie had been in the army from his youth, and, ac cording to the custom of officers of the O army, had not even voted at an elec tion. He was selected, of course, on account of his availability ; yet it was an availability which did not rest alto gether on his purely military character. " It will be a great mistake," said Dan iel Webster to the Senate, " to suppose that he owed his advancement to high civil trust, or his great acceptableness with the people to military talent or ability alone. Associated with the highest admiration for those qualities possessed by him, there was spread throughout the community a high de gree of confidence and faith in his in tegrity, and honor, and uprightness as a man. I believe he was especially regarded as both a firm and a mild man in the exercise of authority ; and I have observed more than once, in this and in other popular governments, that the prevalent motive with the masses of mankind for conferring high honors on individuals is a confidence in their mildness, their paternal, protecting, pru dent and safe character." This was well said. Every word is in harmony with the popular appreciation of Gen eral Taylor; and there are doubtless many living in Mexico, as well as in his own country, who would respond to the sentiment. The soldier who could % pause in the midst of such a day as that of Buena Vista to arrest the tide of slaughter, when slaughter was self-pre servation, with the deed of mercy we have recorded, must be entitled to no 168 ZACHARY TAYLOR. common meed of praise on the ground of humanity. But something more was added by his eminent eulogist. "I suppose," said Mr. Webster, " that no case ever happened, in the very best days of the Koman republic, when a man found himself clothed with the highest authority in the state under circumstances more repelling all suspi cion of personal application, of pur suing any crooked path in politics, or of having been actuated by sinister views and purposes, than in the case of this worthy, and eminent, and distin guished, and good man." 1 The circumstance that Mr. "Webster was himself a candidate before the Whig convention, which nominated General Taylor for the Presidency, adds weight to these assertions. Mr. Cass was the opposing democratic candidate. The vote of the electors was one hun dred and sixty-three to one hundred and twenty-seven. Of the qualities of his short admi nistration of the office, let a member of the party opposed to his election speak. The late Senator Benton says : " His brief career showed no deficiency of political wisdom for want of previous 1 Remarks in the Senate on the death of General Tay lor. Webster s Works, p. 409. political training. He came into the administration at a time of great diffi culty, and acted up to the emergency of his position. . . . His death was a public calamity. No man could have been more devoted to the Union, or more opposed to the slavery agitation ; and his position as a Southern man, and a slaveholder his military repu tation and his election by a majority of the people and of the States would have given him a power in the settle ment of these questions which no Pre sident without these qualifications could have possessed. In the political divi sion he classed with the Whig party ; but his administration, as far as it went, was applauded by the democracy, and promised to be so to the end of his offi cial term. Dying at the head of the government, a national lamentation be wailed his departure from life and power, and embalmed his memory in the affections of his country." l General Taylor died at Washington, at the Presidential mansion, July 9, 1850, of a fever contracted by exposure to the intense heat of the sun, in attend ance upon the ceremonies of the Day of Independence. 1 Bcnton s Thirty Tears View, II. 765-6. MIL LARD FILL MO RE. THE family of Millard Fillmore has an honorable descent in American his tory. Its records are diversified by remarkable incidents of war and ad venture. John Fillmore, the .great grandfather of the President of the United States, and the common ances tor of all of that name in the United States, was born at Ipswich, Massachu setts, about the beginning of the eight eenth century. He is recollected as the hero of a brave and successful struggle with certain pirates into whose hands it was his luck to fall in a sail ing venture out of Boston. He was about nineteen when he sailed in a fishing vessel from that port, and had been but a few days at sea when the craft was captured by a noted pirate ship commanded by one Captain Phil lips. Fillmore became a prisoner, and so continued on board the ship for nine months, steadily refusing his liberty on the only condition on which it would be granted, to sign the piratical articles of the vessel and take part in its for tunes. Though threatened with death, he persisted in his denial, till finally, two others having been taken captive, he joined with them in an attack on the crew ; several were killed ; the ves sel u;i< ivM-iu-d and carried safely into Boston. The surviving pirates were 22 tried and executed, and the captors were honored by the thanks of the British government. Young Fillmore afterwards settled in Connecticut, where he died. His son, Nathaniel, was an early settler in the Hampshire Grants, at Bennington, a frontier posi tion in those days which, as a matter of course, made him a soldier in the seven years war with France. He was also a gallant Whig of the Revolution, serving, when his home became the the atre of hostilities, as lieutenant under General Stark, in the spirited and deci sive conflict at Bennington. He died in 1814, leaving a son, Nathaniel, who early in life migrated to what is now called Summer Hill, in Cayuga County, New York, where he followed the life of a farmer. There his son Millard, the future President, was born, January 7, 1800. The family shortly after re moved to another place in the same county. " The nairow means of his father," we are told in a narrative of these early years, published some years since in the "American Review," " deprived Millard of any advantages of education beyond what were afforded by the imperfect and ill-taught common schools of the county. Books were scarce and dear, and at the age of fifteen, when more favored 1G9 170 MIILLARD FILLMORE. youths are far advanced in their classi cal studies, or enjoying in colleges the benefit of well-furnished libraries, young Fillraore had read but little except his common-school books and the Bible. At that period he was sent into the then wilds of Livingston County to learn the clothier s trade. He remained there about four months, and was then placed with another person to pursue the same business and wool-carding, in the town of Sempronius, now Niles, where his father lived. A small village library that was formed there soon after, gave him the first means of acquiring gene ral knowledge through books. He im proved the opportunity thus offered ; the appetite grew by what it fed upon. The thirst for knowledge soon became insatiate, and every leisure moment was spent in reading. Four years were passed in this way, working at his trade and storing his mind, during such hours as he could command, with the contents of books of history, biography, and travels. At the age of nineteen he fortunately made an acquaintance with the late Walter Wood, Esquire, whom many will remember as one of the most estimable citizens of Cayuga County. Judo;e Wood was a man of wealth and o great business capacity ; he had an ex cellent law library, but did little pro fessional business. He soon saw that under the rude exterior of the clothier s boy, were powers that only required proper development to raise the posses sor to high distinction and usefulness, and advised him to quit his trade and study law. In reply to the objection of a lack of education, means and friends to aid him in a course of profes sional study, Judge Wood kindly offered to give him a place in his office, to ad vance money to defray his expenses, and wait until success in business should furnish the means of repayment. The offer was accepted. The apprentice boy Thought his time, entered the office of Judge Wood, and for more than two years applied himself closely to busi ness and study. He read law and general literature and practised sur veying." Not content with entire dependence upon his benefactor for his support, he resorted to that unfailing resource of an American youth making progress from poverty upward to the intellectual pro fessions he became a schoolmaster for a portion of the year. At the age of twenty-one he removed to Erie County, and entered a law office in Buffalo. His legal studies were completed in 1823, when, diffident of success in a city so well stocked with the profession as his late residence, he began the practice of law at Aurora. He shortly after was married to the daughter of the Rev. Lemuel Powers. Success came to him gradually, affording him ample time to develop his studies by patient applicaf tion. He pursued this path, gaining his ground surely and steadily. In 1828, he was elected a member of the assembly in the State legislature by a Whig constituency of his county, and signalized himself at Albany by his ad vocacy of the bill for the abolition of imprisonment for debt, a portion of which was prepared by him as a mem ber of the committee. He now had his residence as a member of the bar at Buffalo. MILLARD FILLMORE. 171 His congressional life commenced in 1833, with his election to the House of Representatives. It was the beginning of the second term of Jackson s admin istration, that period of conflict which was to test to the uttermost the party strength of the great chieftain, and out of which he was to emerge triumph antly. Mr. Fillmore, a young member of the House of the losing side was there to learn his lesson of political wisdom in the agitation. lie secured the respect of his constituents by his course, and made a considerable step onward -in his career, without greatly attracting public attention. His term of two years having expired, he was not immediately a candidate for reelection, but devoted himself to his profession at Buffalo. He was not, however, suffered to rest in private life. In 1836, he was again elected to Congress, taking his seat at the commencement of Mr. Van Buren s administration, and continuing to serve by reelection through the whole period of his Presidency. He rose with his experience in the national councils, being in this second term, the first session of the twenty-sixth Congress, placed at the head of the committee on elections, which threw into his hands the management of the famous contested New Jersey case. Mr. Fillmore was again elected to the next succeeding Con gress of 1841, by a larger majority than he had hitherto received. The Whi^s o being now in power, he was placed at the head of the important committee on Ways and Means, where he was charged with duties which fully called forth his resources, and placed him at length in a conspicuous position before the public. At the close of this term, though renominated by his friends in Erie County, he persisted in declining a con tinuance in office. His profession had claims upon his attention to which he was eager to respond, and his tempera ment invited repose. His political posi tion, however, was too well established for him to be left in quiet by his party. He was immediately adopted as their candidate for Governor of New York, accepted the nomination, and was de feated in the election of 1844. In 1847 he was chosen comptroller of the State, by a large majority. He commenced his new duties at Albany, at the be ginning of 1848, and. before the year was closed, was nominated and elected Vice-President of the United States. He had the same vote with his princi pal, General Taylor, of fifteen States, and a majority of the electoral vote of thirty-six. The duties of his new office of course involved his resignation of the comp- trollership. He entered upon the Pre sidency of the Senate in March, 1849 ; it was an office which he was well fitted to discharge, and he left behind him, when he was called to a higher station, an impression of his moderation and urbanity. On the 9th of July, 1850, while Congress was in session, the sud den death of General Taylor, devolved upon him the cares and responsibilities of the Presidency. In deference to the general feeling of regret which was called forth by the departure of this estimable man, and in obedience to his successor s own feelings, his entrance into office was conducted in the sim plest manner. The day after the death 172 MILLARD FILLMORE. of the late President, attended by a committee of the two Houses and the members of the late President s cabinet, the oath was administered to him, not in front of the Capitol but in the Hall of the House of Representatives, by the venerable Judge Cranch, of the Cir cuit Court of the District of Columbia, " which being done, President Fillrnore, without any inaugural address, bowed and retired, and the ceremony was at an end." 1 In his annual message, however, on the reassembling of Congress, in De cember, he took occasion to supply what may be regarded as the substitute for the usual inaugural address. "Being ~ o suddenly called," says he in that doc ument, " in the midst of the last session of Congress, by a painful dispensation of Divine Providence, to the responsi ble station which I now hold, I con tented myself with such communica tions to the Legislature as the exigency of the moment seemed to require. The country was shrouded in mourning for the loss of its venerated chief magis trate, and all hearts were penetrated with grief. Neither the time nor the occasion appeared to require or to jus tify, on my part, any general expression of political opinions, or any announce ment of the principles which would govern me in the discharge of the duties to the performance of which I had been so unexpectedly called. I trust, there fore, that it may not be deemed inap propriate, if I avail myself of this op portunity of the reassembling of Con gress, to make known my sentiments 1 Benton s Thirty Years View, II. 767. in a general manner, in regard to the policy which ought to be pursued by the government, both in its intercourse with foreign nations, and in its manage ment and administration of internal affairs. " Nations, like individuals in a state of nature, are equal and independent, possessing certain rights, and owing certain duties to each other, arising from ~ their necessary and unavoidable rela tions ; which rights and duties there is no common human authority to protect and enforce. Still, they are rights and duties, binding in morals, in conscience, and in honor, although there is no tri- O bunal to which an injured party can appeal, but the disinterested judgment of mankind, and ultimately the arbitra ment of the sword. " Among the acknowledged rights of nations is that which each possesses of establishing that form of government which it may deem most conducive to the happiness and prosperity of its own citizens ; of changing that form, as cir cumstances may require ; and of manag ing its internal affairs according to its own will. The people of the United States claim this right for them selves, and they readily concede it to others. Hence it becomes an impera tive duty not to interfere in the govern ment or internal policy of other nations; and, although we may sympathize with the unfortunate or the oppressed, every where, in their struggles for freedom, our principles forbid us from taking any part in such foreign contests. We make no wars to promote or to prevent successions to thrones; to maintain any theory of a balance of power ; or to MILLARP FILLMORE. 173 suppress the actual government which any country chooses to establish for itself. We instigate no revolutions, nor suffer any hostile military expeditions to be fitted out in the United States to invade the territory or provinces of a friendly nation. The great law of mo rality ought to have a national, as well as a personal and individual, applica tion. We should act towards other na tions as we wish them to act towards us ; and justice and conscience should form the rule of conduct between gov ernments, instead of mere power, self- interest, or the desire of aggrandize ment. To maintain a strict neutrality in foreign wars, to cultivate friendly relations, to reciprocate every noble and generous act, and to perform punctually and scrupulously every treaty obliga tion these are the duties which we owe to other States, and by the per formance of which we beet entitle our selves to like treatment from them ; or if that, in any case, be refused, we can enforce our own rights with justice and with a clear conscience. " In our domestic policy, the Constitu tion will be my guide ; and in questions of doubt, I shall look for its interpreta tion to the judicial decisions of that tri bunal which was established to expound it, and to the usage of the government, sanctioned by the acquiescence of the country. I regard all its provisions as ctjiially binding. In all its parts it is the will of the people, expressed in the ni ^t solemn form, and the constituted authorities are but agents to carry that will into effect. Eveiy power which it has granted is to be exercised for the public good ; but no pretence of utility, no honest conviction even, of what might be expedient, can justify the assumption of any power not granted. The powers conferred upon the govern ment and their distribution to the seve ral departments, are as clearly expressed in that sacred instrument as the imper fection of human language will allow; and I deem it my first duty, not to question its wisdom, add to its provi sions, evade its requirements, or nullity its commands." The loss of General Taylor was the more felt as the country was at the time agitated with the discussions growing out of the subject of slavery, which had arisen with the question of the disposi tion of the territory conquered from Mexico ; and the late President, of mo derate views, and capable of giving great weight to them in the national councils, by his intimate relations with the South, was looked to as the great mediator in effecting a compromise of the conflicting interests. This had al ready been proposed by Mr. Clay, and found an advocate in the President. Thus, when his aid seemed most needed, he expired, leaving the great work to be accomplished by his successor. It was undertaken by him, so far as the influence of his office extended, in a spirit of conciliation. His choice of Daniel Webster as Secretary of State, and of the other members of his cabinet, from different portions of the Union, was an earnest of his intentions. The boundary between Texas and New Mexico, a matter of some difficulty, was adjusted, California was admitted as a free State, Utah Territory was organ ized, and the Fugitive Slave Law en- J74 MILLARD FILLMORE. acted. In other affairs of social im portance, President Fillmore s brief term of office was signalized by several inci dents which will always find a place in the history of the country. The re duction of postage on letters to the uni form rate of three cents; the return of the government Arctic expedition of Lieutenant De Haven, sent in quest of Sir John Franklin ; the visit of Kossuth to the country in 1851 ; the sailing of Commodore Perry s expedition to Ja pan in the following year, are events which will be more lasting in their con sequences than many battles which have filled, for the time, a larger space in the public attention. Mr. Fillmore s term of office closed in the spring of 1853. The following year he made a tour in the South, where he was well received, and in 1855 visited Europe to return in season for the Pre sidential canvass of 1856. He was put forward in that election as a medium candidate of the American party, be tween the nominee of the Democratic party, Mr: Buchanan, and Colonel Fre mont, of the Republican. In such a contest there was little strength to be wasted by the two great divisions which swallowed up the rest. Mr. Fillmore received the vote only of the single State of Maryland. Since that period Mr. Fillmore has not been before the public as a candi date for office. He has continued to reside in the western part of the State of New York. FRANKLIN PIERCE. FRAJSKLW PIERCE, the fourteenth Pre sident of the United States, was born at Hillsborough, in the State of New Hampshire, November 23, 1804. His father, Benjamin Pierce, a native of Massachusetts, with many other spirited youths, entered the Revolutionary army at the summons of Lexington, served through the war with credit, and re- O tiling with the rank of captain, a year or two after peace was declared, became the purchaser of a plot of fifty acres in the present town of Hillsborough, then a rough clearing in the wilderness. There he built a log-house and settled down to the clearing of the land, his second wife, to whom he was united in 1789, becoming the mother of the sub ject of this sketch who was the sixth of her eight children. The captain of the Revolution meanwhile attracted the attention of the people of the region, was made brigade major on the organi zation of the militia of the county; in 1789 was elected a member of the House of Representatives at Concord, continuing to serve in that capacity for thirteen years till he was chosen a member of the Governor s Council. An eminent member of the Democratic party, he was an ardent supporter of the war of 1812, sending two of his sons to the army. He rose to be Gover nor of New Hampshire in 1827, and was again elected to that office in 1829. He subsequently lived in retirement, leaving the world in 1839, at the venerable age of eighty-one. The peo ple of New Hampshire have not yet forgotten the shrewd sense and kindli ness, the unaffected democratic princi ples, of the honest, cheerful old soldier of the Revolution and Governor of the State. It is to his memory, doubt less, supported by the popular traits of character inherited from him, that his son has been indebted for much of his advancement. Franklin had good opportunities of education. He was early sent to the neighboring academies at Hancock and Francestown, enjoying at the latter the advantages of a residence with the family of an old friend of his father, Peter Woodbury, whose son, Judge Woodbury, became afterward so emi nent in public affairs. Young Pierce, who was of a warm-hearted, susceptible nature, was much impressed by the superior mind and character of the lady of this household, the mother of Judge Woodbury. Indeed he appears in his boyhood to have won the kindness of those around him by his frank, inge nuous disposition. He was admitted to Bowdoin college in 1820. It is to 175 176 FRANKLIN PIERCE. the credit of young Pierce as a collegian that, having fallen into some indiffe rence during the first years of his course, he more than regained his posi tion in the upper classes, graduating with credit in 1824. It is a fact worth mentioning, though, as his biographer remarks, by no means unusual in the history of the rise of New England statesmen, that in one of the winter va cations Franklin Pierce took a turn at school-keeping. His college instruction being com pleted, he began the study of the law as a profession in the office of Judge Woodbury, of Portsmouth, the son of his father s old friend, then Governor of tli e State, and soon afterward greatly distinguished at Washington as Speaker and senator, and member of the cabinet of Jackson. After a year with this eminent jurist, Mr. Pierce completed his studies in the law school at Northamp ton and the office of the Hon. Edmund Parker, at Amherst. He was admitted to the bar in 1827, and opened an office opposite to his father s house at Hills- borough." His success, though he had the advantage of the family popularity, was" not very decided at the outset. His biographer, indeed, speaks of his first case as a decided failure. He had not yet learned the full command of his resources. It was his fortune to make his position at the bar good by steady effort. Politics, meanwhile, offered him a ready resource, as his father had just been elected Governor. Democratic sentiments were gaining the ascendency under the influence of Jack son, and to this cause young Pierce de voted himself. In 1829, and for three successive years, he was elected to the legislature of his State, as representa tive of Hillsborough, filling in 1S2 and 1833 the office of Speaker. In the last year he was chosen a member of Con gress, taking his seat in the House of Re presentatives at Washington, in Decem ber. He was again elected and served a second term. He was of course a steady, unflinching supporter of the administra tion, for the democratic rule of those days admitted no other not a frequent, or long, or eloquent speaker, but a zeal ous, persistent committee man, giving his vote for the measures of his chief, seconding the views of % the South, and, a decided man generally in his party relations. In 1837 he left the House of Repre sentatives for the Senate of the United States, where he was the youngest member of that body. His term of ser vice embraced the whole of Mr. Van Buren s administration and a portion of that of his successor, during which his services to his party were resolute and unintermitted. They were not for gotten when an opportunity subse quently arose to confer upon him the highest reward. He retired from pub lic life at the end of the period for which he wa,s elected, having his resi dence now at Concord, in his native State. He had been for some time married to a daughter of the Rev. Dr. Appleton, once President of Bowdoin; his father was now dead; and his do mestic affairs required his care at home. Thither he retired to devote himself as siduously to his profession. His suc cess was immediately assured, his prac tice at the bar yielding him a very FRANK I. IN PTKRCE. 177 handsome income. In proof of his con tentment and the sincerity of his wishes for retirement, he declined in 1845 an appointment by the Governor to the United States Senate to fill the place vacated by Judge Woodbury, and a proffer by the Democracy of his State of a nomination as Governor; refusing also in the following year a seat in the cabinet of President Polk as Attorney- General. He held meanwhile the post, at home, of District Attorney of New Hampshire. His reluctance to engage in public life at Washington partly proceeded from his professional duties in his own State and partly from the health of his wife, to which the climate of the seat of government was unfavorable. In his letter to President Polk, dated Septem ber 6, 1846, declining the position of Attorney-General, he made use of this expression : " A^hen I resigned my seat in the senate in 1842, I did it with the fixed purpose never again to be volun tarily separated from my family, for any considerable length of time, except at the call of my country in time of war." The reservation, looking to the date, was not without its significance. General Taylor had in May fought the battles of Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma, and it was evident that more serious struggles, which would call out a new military force, were impending. Congress was slow to admit the neces sity in making provision for the addi tional force, but when the time came and the bill creating ten new regiments was passed, Franklin Pierce was looked to and created by the President a bri Duller-general, his commission being 23 dated March 3, 1847. He had pre viously enrolled his name on the first list of volunteers at Concord as a pri vate soldier. He considered his accep tance of the duty a fulfillment of his pledge on taking leave of the Senate. The old military spirit of two wars in which his father and brothers had taken part again lived in the family. The brigade of which he was placed in command consisted of twenty-five hundred men, composed of the ninth regiment of New Englanders, the twelfth from the south-western States, and the fifteenth from the north and west. They were to assemble at Vera Cruz, and join the forces of General Scott on his march to the capital. General Pierce sailed from Newport on the 27th of May, with a portion of the New Eng land regiment; the voyage was calm and consequently long ; bringing the pas sengers to the rendezvous at the most unhealthy season of the year. As the vomito then prevailed at Vera Cruz, the prospect of landing new recruits was anything but a happy one. It was the work before the new general, how ever, and he courageously faced it. The portions of his Diary -published by his biographer, show the full extent of the difficulties which he encountered, and which were met by him with manly resolution. Avoiding the city, he sta tioned his men on an extensive sand beach in the vicinity, where they would at least have the benefit of a free circu lation of air. It was the beginning of July, and no means were at hand to expedite the departure for the interior. A large number of wild mules had been collected but, inferior as they were for 178 FRANKLIN PIERCE. purposes of transportation, they were so ill provided with proper attendants that most of them broke away in a stam pede. "The Mexicans fully believe," is the language of the journal of June 28, " that most of my command must die of vomito before I can be prepared to march into the interior." A delay of but a day or two was expected ; it was now running into weeks. Then he records the services of Major "Woods, a West Point officer " of great intelli gence, experience, and coolness, who kindly consented to act as my adjutant- general." There is a serious case of vomito in the camp, Captain Duff, who is sent to the hospital in the city. At length, after three weeks on the shore, the advance is sent off, and a few days after the general himself follows. It is not an easy road to travel. The great battles of the previous expeditions had cleared the road of extensive fortifica tions, but left it free to be assailed by straggling parties of guerillas, of whom General Pierce and his men are to have a taste as they carry their train of men and munitions to the main army at Puebla. He was twice attacked on the route, on leaving San Juan, when both sides of the road were beset by the Mexicans, and again at the National Bridge, where a formidable effort was made to arrest his progress. The ene my had erected a barricade at the bridge, and manned a temporary breast work on a high commanding bluff above. General Pierce, looking around for means of annoyance to cover his advance, found a position for several pieces of cannon, but the main advan tage was gained by a portion of his command in charging the defences at the bridge and gaining the enemy s works from the rear. In this engage ment, which seems to have been well managed in securing the speedy retreat of the Mexicans, General Pierce was under fire, and received an escopette ball through the rim of his hat, without, however, other damage, as he adds in his journal, " than leaving my head for a short time without protection from the sun." The train thus relieved ad vanced to the Plan del Bio, where the bridge, a work of the old Spaniards, was found to be destroyed. Its main arch, a span of about sixty feet, was blown up. Below yawned a gulf of a hundred feet. The bank in the neigh borhood appeared impassable for wa gons. In this emergency General Pierce called upon one of his New England officers, Captain Bodfish, of the Ninth Infantry, who " had been engaged for many years in the lumber business, and accustomed to the construction of roads in the wild and mountainous districts of Maine, and was, withal, a man not lightly to be checked by slight ob stacles in the accomplishment of an en terprise." This enterprising officer had by no means the resources of Maine at his command, for there was no timber in the vicinity ; but the road was con structed, nevertheless, and the train passed in safety over it. After this there were no extraordinary difficulties to be overcome, and General Pierce, on the seventh of August, reached the head quarters of General Scott at Puebla, with his brigade, which, after undergo ing some changes on the way at Perote, consisted of some twenty-four hundred FKAXKLIN PIERCE. 17: m<>n. The guerillas who infested his path had not succeeded in capturing a single waijon. O O With this reinforcement General Scott immediately began his advance to the valley of Mexico. In the first action, that at the heights of Contreras, where the enemy s works, having been approached with difficulty, were suc cessfully stormed with great gallantly, General Pierce was in command at the outset in the attack upon the front of the intrenchments. It was a duty of peculiar toil and hazard. The ground, the famous pedregal, was a broken, rocky surface, impracticable for cavalry and harassing for infantry. General Pierce was the only mounted officer in the brigade, and, as he was pressing to the head of his column, after addressing the colonels and captains of his regi ment as they passed by him, his horse slipped among the rocks and fell, crush ing his rider in the fall. This was the first of a series of disasters which weighed heavily upon General Pierce through the remainder of the brief cam paign, but which his energy and spirit enabled him in a considerable measure to overcome. He was at first stunned by the fall with the horse, but recover ing his consciousness, was hurried on in the battle, having been assisted to a seat in the saddle. When told that he would not be able to keep his seat, " Then," said he, " you must tie me on." II- lay that night writhing in pain i r< >in his wounded knee, on an ammu nition wagon, to be mounted again the next morning, the decisive day at Con treras, and was enabled to hold his position and lead his brigade in pur suit. In the course of this duty he was summoned to the commander-in-chief, who perceived at once his shattered condition. "Pierce, my dear fellow," said the veteran kindly, "you are badly injured; you are not fit to be in the saddle." " Yes, general, I am," replied Pierce, "in a case like this." "You cannot touch your foot to the stirrup," said Scott. " One of them I can," an swered Pierce. The general, says the authentic narrative before us, looked again at Pierce s almost disabled figure, and seemed on the point of taking his irrevocable resolution. " You are rash, General Pierce," said he ; " we shall lose you, and we cannot spare you. It is my duty to order you back to St. Au- gustin." "For God s sake, general," exclaimed Pierce, " don t say that ! This is the last great battle, and I must lead my brigade !" The commander-in- chief made no further remonstrance, but gave the order for Pierce to ad vance with his brigade. The sequel may best be told in his biographer, Mr. Hawthorne s, interesting narrative. " The way lay through thick, standing corn, and over marshy ground, inter cepted with ditches, which were filled, or partially so, with water. Over some of the narrower of these Pierce leaped his horse. When the brigade had ad vanced about a mile, however, it found itself impeded by a ditch ten or twelve feet wide, and six or eight feet deep. It being impossible to leap it, General Pierce was lifted from his saddle, and in some incomprehensible way, hurt as he was, contrived to wade or scramble across this obstacle, leaving his horse on the hither side. The troops were 180 FKANKLIN PIERCE. now under fire. In the excitement of the battle he forgot his injury and hur ried forward, leading the brigade a dis tance of two or three hundred yards. But the exhaustion of his frame, and particularly the anguish of his knee made more intolerable by such free use of it was greater than any strength of nerve, or any degree of mental energy could struggle against. He fell, faint and almost insensible, within full range of the enemy s fire. It was proposed to bear him off the field; but, as some of his soldiers approached to lift him, he became aware of their purpose, and was partially revived by his determina tion to resist it. " No," said he, with all the strength he had left, "don t carry me off ! let me lie here !" And there he lay under the tremendous fire of Cherubusco, until the enemy, in total rout, was driven from the field." In the negotiations which immediately en sued, General Pierce was honored by the commander-in-chief with the ap pointment of one of the commissioners to arrange the terms of the armistice. Jaded and worn out as he was, having been two nights without sleep and un able to move without assistance, he at tended to this duty before seeking repose. In the subsequent action of the cam paign, at the battle of Molino del Rey, he rendered an important service to General Worth at the close of that bloody fight, in interposing to receive the fire of the enemy, and, the victory having been gained, occupied the field. He would have been prominently engaged in the sequel to this battle, the storming of Chapultepec, but he had now become BO ill as to be compelled to seek relief at the head-quarters of General Worth, where he remained when this conclud ing action of the war was fought. He rose, however, from his sick couch to report himself to General Quitman, ready to take part in the final assault upon the city; but this perilous duty was happily spared him by the timely capitulation. On- his return to the United States at the close of 1847, General Pierce having resigned his commission at Washington, was received at Concord, in his native State, with the utmost en thusiasm. Welcomed to the town hall in a complimentary speech by General Low, he replied in an address of great propriety, skillfully turning the occasion to the praises of his comrades in the war. He spoke of the New England regiment in general, of its sacrifices and deeds of honor, and particularly of the brave men who had fallen on the field. He also paid a well-deserved compli ment to the officers furnished to the war by the Military Academy at West Point, a tribute which came with more emphasis from his lips, as in former days in Congress he had opposed the usual annual appropriation for that in stitution. In recognition of his services, he was shortly after presented with a sword by the legislature of New Hamp shire. General Pierce now passed into re tirement and was again engaged in the practice of his profession. He took part, however, in the political affairs of his party, particularly in the canvass of 1848 when General Cass was a can didate for the Presidency. The Demo cratic party then suffered a defeat, but FRANKLIN PIERCE. 1M rallied again for action in 1852, when General Pierce was put in nomination for that high office. Previously to this election his position was strengthened in New Hampshire by his election as President of the convention for the re vision of the State constitution, and as the time for the choice of a new Presi dent of the Union approached he was put forward by the democracy of the State as a suitable candidate. The nominating convention of his party met at Balti more in June, 18^2 ; there was some difficulty in deciding upon a candidate, and several days had passed in the dis cussion, when General Pierce was brought forward by the Virginia delegation on the thirty-sixth ballot. His strength continued to increase as the contest was carried on, till, on the forty-ninth bal lot, he received two hundred and eighty- two out of the two hundred and ninety- three votes cast. In the election which followed, he was chosen over General Scott, the candidate of the Whig party, by a popular majority of two hundred and three thousand, three hundred and six, their joint votes being two millions, nine hundred and eighty-nine thousand, four hundred and eighty-four. He had the electoral votes of all the States e- cepting Vermont, Massachusetts, Ken tucky and Tennessee. The Presidential administration of General Pierce from 1853 to 1857, when he was succeeded by James Bu chanan, was an interval of comparative repose, marked by no extraordinary events of foreign or domestic policy, with the exception of the revival of the slavery agitation in the passage of the Kansas and Nebraska Terri torial act in 1854, setting aside the geographical limit imposed by the compromise of 1850. In the late Go vernor Marcy, President Pierce had the services of a Secretary of State of eminent ability, who conducted the foreign affairs of the government with firmness and discretion. Among the home incidents of the time may bo mentioned the erection of a Crystal Palace at New York, following the ex ample of the previous great fair at Lon don, for the exhibition of the industry of all nations. This undertaking, which was brilliantly carried out, was inaugu rated by President Pierce in July, 1853, shortly after the commencement of his administration. After the close of his Presidential term, General Pierce visited the island of Madeira and made a prolonged tour in Europe. On his return to America, he again took up his residence in his old home at Concord, New Hampshire. JAMES BUCHANAN. THE father of James Buchanan, the fifteenth President of the United States, was a native of the county of Donegal, in the north of Ireland, who emigrated to the United States in 1783, the year which closed the War of the Kevolu- tion with the declaration of peace. He came to America a poor man, like thou sands of others, to establish himself on what was then, as it is in many districts still, the virgin soil of the New World. Making his home in Pennsylvania, he there married Miss Elizabeth Spear, the daughter of a respectable farmer of Adams County. With her he set out for Franklin County, on the borders of Maryland, then a partially cultivated region, built a log hut, and made a clearing at a spot in the mountains in the vicinity of the town of Mercersburg. At this place, called Stony Batter, James Buchanan, the future President, was born April 23, 1*791. When he was seven years old, his parents remov ed to Mercersburg. Being well inform ed, and appreciating the advantages of a good education, they here carefully provided for their son s instruction. The father had profited by his English schooling, and the mother, we are told, was distinguished by her strong sense and a certain taste for literature, being able to repeat from memory striking passages in Pope, Cowper, Milton, and other English poets. Her piety is also spoken of as a noticeable trait of her cha racter. 1 At the age of fourteen, James was sufficiently instructed in English studies, and the elements of the Greek and Latin classics, to enter Dickinson College at Carlisle. There he proved a ready student, acquitted himself with credit, and took a leading part in the literary society connected with the col lege. After receiving his degree, in 1 809, he began the study of the law with Mr. James Hopkins of Lancaster, and three years afterwards, on arriving at age, was admitted to the bar. He applied him self with diligence to the profession, at Lancaster, and early acquired a lucra tive practice. In a letter written more than thirty years afterwards, when he had risen to the position of Secretary of State, he recalled the occasion of his first public speech. It was when in the war with Great Britain, Maryland had been invaded, the- capital burnt at Washington, and Baltimore was threat ened. The country was aroused, and Mr. Buchanan addressed his fellow-citi zens at Lancaster, urging upon them the duty of volunteering their services to resist the foe. A volunteer company 1 Horton s Life of Buchanan, p. 15. ISi! JAMES BUCHANAN. 183 was formed on the spot ; he enlisted in it as a private, and proceeded with it to Baltimore, where, the danger having passed over, it was discharged. He lit tle thought that half a century after wards the region would aj/ain be arous- o o ed in a similar manner by the approach of a domestic foe, in a civil conflict of which his own administration, while he was President of the United States, was first to feel the shock. In this same year, 1814, Mr. Buchanan made his first entrance on political life, at the age of twenty-three, when he was elected a member of the Pennsylvania Legisla ture. On taking his seat he became an active supporter of the war measures then in progress, counselling stringent means of defence, and advocating a loan to the General Government to pay the militia of the State called into the pub lic service. In 1820, Mr. Buchanan took his seat in the House of Representatives, and continued a member by successive re- elections for ten years. This period embraced many important public mea sures, in which he took a prominent part. He was opposed to a tariff for protection, and to a general bankrupt law; when John Quincy Adams was elected, he opposed his favorite project of the Panama mission, and gave his zealous support to the advancement of General Jackson. On that chieftain s election to the Presidency, which was promoted by his influence in Pennsyl vania, he was placed at the head of the Judiciary committee, and was one of the five managers chosen by the House to conduct the prosecution of Judge James H. Peck, of the District Court of the United States for Missouri, against whom articles of impeachment were passed for an undue exercise of authority, in silencing and imprisoning a lawyer in his court, who had presumed to criticise one of his decisions. Judge Peck was defended before the Senate by William Wirt and Jonathan Meri- deth. The case was closed by Mr. Buchanan. The result was the pas sage of a law calculated to prevent a recurrence -of the offence. In 1831, Mr. Buchanan received the appointment from President Jackson of Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Ple nipotentiary to St. Petersburg, and suc ceeded in the object of his mission in securing a valuable commercial treaty, opening to our merchants important privileges in the Russian waters. On his return, in 1833, he was elected to the United States Senate, where he rendered important partisan services to the administration of General Jackson, then closely pressed in that body by a combination of its greatest political leaders, Clay, Calhoun, and Webster. He was always opposed to the agitation of the subject of slavery in Congress, regarding the discussion of the topic at the North as alike injurious to the pros pects of the slave and the integrity of the Union. These were his views when the right of petition brought the dis cussion before Congress, and he remain ed steadily on the side of the South in all matters of this nature, where the in stitution was concerned. An ardent supporter of President Jackson, he, of course, gave his influence in favor of the expunging resolutions of Senator Benton, which crowned the long list of 184 JAMES BUCHANAN. Congressional triumphs of the retiring President. To the administration of his successor, Mr. Van Buren, Mr. Bu chanan gave important aid in his advo cacy of the establishment of an inde pendent treasury, and when that mea sure was temporarily set aside under the presidency of General Harrison and Tyler, he was urgent in his efforts to defeat the banks, or fiscal institutions, proposed in its place. On all the test questions of the Democratic party, Mr. Buchanan preserved political consist ency. With one, in particular, he espe cially identified himself the Annexa tion of Texas. He was for immediate action on its first introduction into the Senate, and when it was afterwards adopted, at the close of Tyler s admin istration, he stood alone in the commit tee on foreign relations in favor of the measure. Mr. Polk succeeded to the Presidency in 1845, when Mr. Buchanan was called to his cabinet as Secretary of State. It was an important era in the foreign relations of the country, when the office was no sinecure. The North-western Boundary question was to be settled with England, and on the South-west ern frontier another difficulty of no ordinary magnitude existed, in the threatened conflict with Mexico. The former was settled on a compromise basis, adopting the parallel of lati tude of 49 instead of the ultra de- maud, insisted upon by certain mem bers of the party, and advocated in an elaborate state paper by Mr. Buchanan himself, of 54 40 . The Government, in fact, had become pledged to the lat ter, but the difficulty was solved by re ferring the matter to the Senate, where the compromise line was accepted. The Mexican question was of graver respon sibility. It was met by the administra tion as a war measure, and by the spirit and energy of the army of the country, and the volunteers called to the field, was successfully carried through, while efforts were constantly made to bring the contest to an end by negotiations for peace. When the enemy was tho roughly humbled, and his capital gained possession of, the latter finally prevail ed. It is to the credit of our govern ment that the war was conducted in no sanguinary spirit of cruelty, and that its terms of reconciliation, though they proved in the end highly advantageous to the victors, were, all things consid ered neither exacting nor humiliating to the conquered. To the war with Mexico succeeded the political struggle at home on the slavery question, growing out of the new increase of territory. Mr. Bucha nan, at the close of Mr. Polk s presi dency and the breaking up of the cabi net, had retired to his home in Pennsyl vania, in the neighborhood of Lancas ter. Though out of office, however, his interest in politics was not diminished. When the contest over the Wilmot Pro viso came up, setting bounds to the ex tension of slavery, he opposed its prin ciples, and in his " Harvest-Home Let ter," as it was called, recommended as a settlement the basis p,f the act of 1820, and that the Missouri line be extended to the Pacific. When the Compromise Measures of 1850 were adopted, he gave them his approval, urging in a let ter which he addressed to a political JAMKS r.rcii. \\.\\. 185 committee in Philadelphia, " as the de liberate conviction of his judgment, the observance of two things as necessary to preserve the Union from danger: first, that agitation in the North on the O subject of southern slavery must be re buked and put down by a strong and enlightened public opinion ; and, second, that the Fugitive Slave Law must be en forced in its spirit." There is a passage in this letter of interest in relation to subsequent events and the future posi tion of the writer. " I now say," he wrote, " that the platform of our blessed Union is strong enough and broad enough to sustain all true-hearted Ame ricans. It is an elevated it is a glori ous platform, on which the down-trod den nations of the earth gaze with hope and desire, with admiration and aston ishment. Our Union is the star of the West, whose genial and steadily increas ing influence will at last, should we re- O main an united people, dispel the gloom of despotism from the ancient nations of the world. Its moral power will prove to be more potent than millions of armed mercenaries. And shall this glorious star set in darkness before it has accomplished half its mission ? Heaven forbid ! Let us all exclaim with the heroic Jackson, The Union must and shall be preserved. " And what a Union has this been ! The history of the human race presents no parallel to it. The bit of striped bunting which was to be swept from the ocean by a British navy, according to the predictions of a British states man, previous to the war of 1812, is now displayed on every sea, and in every port of the habitable globe. Our 24 glorious stars and stripes, the flag of our country, now protects Americans in every clime. I am a Roman citizen V was once the proud exclamation which everywhere shielded an ancient Roman from insult and injustice. I am an American citizen ! is now an exclama tion of almost equal potency throughout the civilized world. This is a tribute due to the power and resources of these thirty-one United States. In a just cause, we may defy the world in arms. We have lately presented a spectacle which has astonished the greatest cap tain of the age. At the call of their country, an irresistible host of armed men, and men, too, skilled in the use of arms, sprung up like the soldiers of Cadmus, from the mountains and val leys of our confederacy. The strug gle among them was not who should remain at home, but who should enjoy the privilege of enduring the dangers and privations of a foreign war in de fence of their country s rights. Heaven forbid that the question of slavery should ever prove to be the stone thrown into their midst by Cadmus, to make them turn their arms against each other, and die in mutual conflict. " The common sufferings and com mon glories of the past, the prosperity of the present, and the brilliant hopes of the future, must impress every patri otic heart with deep love and devotion for the Union. Who that is now a citi zen of this vast Republic, extending from the St. Lawrence to the Rio Grande, and from the Atlantic to the Pacific, does not shudder at the idea of being transformed into a citizen of one of its broken, jealous and hostile frag- 186 JAMES BUCHANAN. ments? What patriot had not rather shed the last drop of his blood, than see the thirty-one brilliant stars that now float proudly upon his country s flag, rudely torn from the national banner, and scattered in confusion over the face of the earth ? " Rest assured that all the patriotic emotions of every true-hearted Pennsyl- vanian, in favor of the Union and Con stitution, are shared by the southern people. What battle-field has not been illustrated by their gallant deeds ; and when, in our history, have they ever shrunk from sacrifices and sufferings in the cause of their country? What, then, means the muttering thunder which we hear from the South ? The signs of the times are truly portentous. Whilst many in the South openly ad vocate the cause of secession and disun ion, a large majority, as I firmly believe, still fondly cling to the Union, await ing with deep anxiety the action of the North on the compromise lately effected in Congress. Should this be disregard ed and nullified by the citizens of the North, the southern people may become united, and then farewell, a long fare well to our blessed Union. I am no alarmist ; but a brave and wise man looks danger steadily in the face. This is the best means of avoiding it. I am deeply impressed with the conviction that the North neither sufficiently un derstands nor appreciates the danger." Mr. Buchanan lived in comparative retirement at his Lancaster home till, on Mr. Pierce being chosen President, he was, in 1853, appointed minister to England. He accepted the post, and was occupied, in the course of its du ties, in a negotiation of the Central American question, and also, incident ally, in a discussion respecting the pos session of the island of Cuba. The lat ter, known as the Ostend Conference, grew out of the design of tlie President to purchase the island if possible, from Spain, and for this purpose a consulta tion was had in Europe between the American Ministers to Spain, France, and England, who might aid the under taking by mutual counsel. The history of this proceeding is thus given in the recent notice of President Buchanan in " Appleton s Cyclopedia." " Ostend was first selected for the place of meeting ; but the conferences were subsequently adjourned to Aix la Chapelle. The American Ministers kept written min utes of their proceedings, and of the conclusions arrived at, for the purpose of future reference, and for the informa tion of their government at home. These minutes were afterwards styled a protocol, though they contained no thing; but memoranda to be forwarded o for consideration to the authorities in Washington. They were not intended to be submitted to a foreign power. They contained no proposition, laid down no rule of action, and in no man ner whatever interfered with our regu lar diplomatic intercourse. The Presi dent desired to know the opinions of our Ministers abroad on a subject which deeply concerned the United States, and the Ministers were bound to furnish it to him. Their minutes exhibited the importance of the island to the United States, in a commercial and strategical point of view; the advantages that would accrue to Spain from the sale of JAMES BUCHANAN. 187 it at a fair pi-ice, such as the United States might be willing to pay for it ; the difficulty which Spain would en counter in endeavoring to keep posses sion of it by mere military power ; the sympathy of the people of the United States with the inhabitants of the island, and, finally, the possibility that Spain, as a last resort, might endeavor to Afri canize Cuba, and become instrumental in the reenacting of the scenes of St. Domingo. The American Ministers be- .lieved that in case Cuba was about to be transformed into another St. Do mingo, the example might act pernici ously on the slave population of the Southern States of our own confederacy, and there excite the blacks to similar deeds of violence. In this case, they held that the instinct of self-preserva tion would call for the armed interven tion of the United States, and we should be justified in wresting the island by force from Spain." Mr. Buchanan returned home in the spring of 1856, and in the following summer received the nomination for the Presidency from the Democratic con vention which met at Cincinnati. In the contest which ensued w r ith Colonel Fremont, the candidate of the new Re publican party, he was elected Presi dent of the United States by the vote of nineteen out of thirty-one States. The popular vote was, for Buchanan, 1,803,029; for Fremont, 1,342,164; for Fillmore, 874,625. The main interest of Mr. Buchanan s administration cen tered in the discussion of the control of the territories in reference to the intro duction of slavery. The ominous agi tations regarding Kansas, itself the the atre of bloody conflict, employed much of this period. At the close of Mr. Bu chanan s term, the clouds which had been gathering since its commencement broke in the storm of war. The elec tion of his successor, Mr. Lincoln, the candidate of the Republican party, was followed by secession in the Southern States, and there was no weapon in the hands of Mr. Buchanan powerful enough to arrest the rebellion. lie spoke en- treatingly, persuasively, in favor of the preservation of the Union ; but the South, whose interests he had so long served, was deaf to his appeals. His concluding annual message, at CD O the opening of Congress in December, 1860, was full of despondency, the con sciously vain effort of a disappointed statesman to resist the overwhelming tide which was approaching. The South had placed itself in an attitude of threatened opposition to the inaugura tion of President Lincoln-. President Buchanan, with a certain simplicity, re minded the disaffected that "the elec tion of any one of our fellow-citizens to the office of President, does not of itself afford just cause for dissolving the Union ;" adding, " this is more especially true if his election has been effected by a mere plurality, and not a majority of the people, and has resulted from tran sient and temporary causes which may probably never again occur. In order to justify a resort to revolutionary re sistance, the Federal Government must be guilty of a deliberate, palpable, and dangerous exercise of powers not grant ed by the Constitution. The late Pre sidential election, however, has been held in strict conformity with its ex- 188 JAMES BUCHANAN. press provisions. How, then, can the result justify a revolution to destroy this very Constitution? Reason, jus tice, a regard for the Constitution, all require that we shall wait for some overt and dangerous act on the part of the President elect, before resorting to such a remedy. * * After all, he is no more than the chief executive officer of the government. His province is not to make, but to execute the laws ; and it is a remarkable fact in our history that, notwithstanding the repeated ef forts of the anti-slavery party, no single act has ever passed Congress, unless we may possibly except the Missouri Com promise, impairing in the slightest de gree the rights of the South to their property in slaves. And it may also be observed, judging from present indi cations, that no probability exists of the passage of such an act by a majority of both Houses, either in the present or the next Congress. Surely, under these circumstances, we ought to be restrained from present action by the precept of Him. who spake as never man spake, that sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. The day of evil may never come, unless we shall rashly bring it upon ourselves." After presenting other considerations showing how little dan ger there really existed for apprehen sion on the part of the South, he turned to an examination of the doctrine of Se cession as it was openly advocated by a large class of disaffected politicians. " In order," said he, " to justify secession as a Constitutional remedy, it must be on the principle that the Federal Govern ment is a mere voluntary association of States, to be disolved at pleasure by any one of the contracting parties. If this be so, the confederacy is a rope of sand, to be penetrated and dissolved by the first adverse wave of public opinion in any of the States. In this manner our thirty-three States may resolve themselves into so many petty, jarring, and hostile republics, each one retiring from the Union without responsibility, whenever any sudden excitement might impel them to such a course. By this process, a Union might be entirely bro ken into fragments in a few weeks, which cost our forefathers many years of toil, privation, and blood to establish." He further supported the obvious doctrine of the paramount authority of the Union by references to the opinions of Madison and Jackson, and a deduction from the express provisions of the Con stitution. "This Government," he con cluded, " is a great and powerful Gov ernment, invested with all the attributes of sovereignty over the special subjects to which its authority extends. Its framers never intended to implant in its bosom the seeds of its own destruction, nor were they at its creation guilty of the absurdity of providing for its own dissolution. It was not intended by its framers to be the baseless fabric of a vision which, at the touch of the en chanter, would vanish into thin air ; but a substantial and mighty fabric, capa ble of resisting the slow decay of time, and of defying the storms of ages. In deed, well may the jealous patriots of that day have indulged fears that a government of such high powers might violate the reserved rights of the States, and wisely did they adopt the rule of a strict construction of these powers to JAMES BUCHANAN. 189 pivvent the danger. But they did not fear, nor had they any reason to ima gine, that the Constitution would ever be so interpreted as to enable any State, by her own act, and without the consent of her sister States, to discharge her people from all or any of their Fed eral obligations. It may be asked, then, are the people of the States with out redress against the tyranny and oppression of the Federal Government ? By no means. The right of resistance on the part of the governed against the oppression of their governments cannot be denied. It exists independently of all constitutions, and has been exercised at all periods of the world s history. Under it old governments have been destroyed, and new ones have taken their place. It is embodied in strong and express language in our own Decla ration of Independence. But the dis. tinction must ever be observed, that this is revolution against established government, and not a voluntary seces sion from it by virtue of an inherent constitutional right. In short, let us look the danger fairly in the face : seces sion is neither more nor less than revo. lution. It may or it may not be a jus tifiable revolution, but still it is revolu tion." Having thus established the legal in ability of a State to withdraw from the confederacy at will, he proceeded to dis cuss the "responsibility and true posi tion of the Executive" under the cir cumstances. His duty was, according to the words of his oath, " to take care that the laws be faithfully executed." The administration of justice by the Federal judiciary naturally first present ed itself; but in South Carolina he found this was now impracticable. The officers of justice in that State had re signed, the whole machinery of the courts had been broken up, and "it would be difficult, if not impossible, to replace it." The revenue, indeed, still continued to be collected in the. State, and as for the public property in the forts, magazines, arsenals, etc., the belief was expressed that no attempt would be made to expel the United States from its possession ; " but if in this I should prove to be mistaken," said the President, " the officer in command of the forts has received orders to act strictly on the defensive. In such a contin gency, the responsibility for conse quences would rightfully rest upon the heads of the assailants." The mere mention of such points was ominous of war, and the President per ceived the tendency. He felt the diffi culties of his situation and submitted them to Congress. In doing this, how ever, he added to his argument against secession another, denying to that body the possession of any power under the Constitution " to coerce a State into submission which is attempting to with draw, or has actually withdrawn from the confederacy." His conclusion on this subject was this : " The power to make war against a State is at variance with the w;hole spirit and intent of the Constitution. Suppose (he added), such a war should result in the conquest of a State, how are we to govern it afterwards? Shall we hold it as a province, and govern it by despotic power ? . . . The fact is, that our Union rests upon public opinion and 190 JAMES BUCHANAN. can never be cemented by the blood of its citizens shed in civil war. If it cannot live in the aifections of the people, it must one day perish. Con gress possesses many means of preserv ing it by conciliation ; but the sword was not placed in their hands to pre serve it by force." As an escape from this threatened evil of secession, President Buchanan recommended that an amendment of the Constitution should be adopted, initia ted either by Congress or the State Le gislatures, according to the provisions of that instrument, "confined to the final settlement of the true construction of the Constitution on three special points : 1st. An express recognition of the right of property in slaves in the States where it now exists or may here after exist. 2d. The duty of protecting this right in all the common Territories throughout their territorial existence, and until they shall be admitted as States into the Union, with or without slavery, as their Constitutions may pre scribe. 3d. A like recognition of the right of the master to have his slave, who has escaped from one State to an other, restored and delivered up to him, and of the validity of the Fugitive Slave Law enacted for this purpose, together with a declaration that all State laws impairing or defeating this right are violations of the Constitution, and are consequently null and void." Such was the attitude of President Buchanan in sight of the impending re volution, and such the suggestions which he made to resist its progress. The cri sis which had arrived, beyond the con trol of palliatives, was destined to shat ter his political creed. Beset with doubts and difficulties, but true to the plain duty before him, he incurred the censure of the Commis sioners sent to Washington from South O Carolina, by his resistance to their de mand of the withdrawal of Major An derson and his command from Fort Sumter. " This," said he, in his letter of the 30th of December, in answer to their extraordinary request, " I cannot do this I will not do." A few days after, on the 8th of January, he sent a special message to Congress, in which, while reiterating his previously express ed views, he maintained " the right and the duty to use military force defen sively against those who resist the Fe deral officers in the execution of their legal functions, and against those who assail the property of the Federal Gov ernment." The war which he feared was now inevitable, and preparations, at last, were to be made to meet it. Deserted by his old Southern friends in Con gress, and even in his cabinet, President Buchanan summoned to his aid new counsellors like Scott, Dix, Stanton, Holt, and others whose patriotism re deemed the last days of his administra tion. In weakness, sorrow, almost in despair of the future of his country, he assisted at the inauguration of his suc cessor, and left Washington for the re tirement of his home in Pennsylvania. ABRAHAM LINCOLN. ABRAHAM LINCOLN was born Feb ruary J2th, 1809, in a district of liar- din County, now included in Lraue County, Kentucky. His father and grandfather, sprung from a Quaker family in Pennsylvania, were born in Rockingham County, Virginia. Thence the grandfather, Abraham Lincoln, re- jnoved to Kentucky, where, encounter ing the fortunes of the first settlers, he was slain by the Indians, about the year 1784. His third and youngest son, Thomas, brought up to a life of rude country industry, in 1806 married Nancy Hanks, of Kentucky, a native of Virgin ia, so that the blood of Abraham Lin coln is directly traceable to the Old Do minion the mother of Presidents. The parents, it is said, partly on account of slavery, partly on account of the disputed Kentucky land titles, removed to a new forest home, in what is now Spencer County, Indiana, when their son Abraham was in his eighth year. The task before the settlers was the clearing of the farm in the wilder ness; and in this labor and its inci dents of hunting and agricultural toils the rugged boy grew up to manhood, receiving such elementary instruction as the occasional schoolmasters of the region afforded. Taken altogether, it was very little for the time which he attended schools of any kind, was in the whole less than a year. His know ledge from books was to be worked out O solely by himself; the vigorous life around him and rough experience were to teach him the rest. His first adven ture in the world was at the age of nineteen, when hired as an assistant to a son of the owner, the two, without other aid, navigated a flat boat to New O Orleans, trading by the way an ex cursion on which more might be learnt of human nature than in a year at col lege. At twenty-one, he followed his father, who had now married a second time, to a new settlement in Macon County, Illinois, where a log cabin was built by the family, and the land fenced in by rails, vigorously and abundantly split by the stalwart Abraham. The rail-splitter of Illinois was yet to be summoned to a fiercer conflict. To build a flat-boat was no great change of occupation for one so familiar with the axe. He was engaged in tins work on the Sangamon River, and in taking O , O the craft afterward to New Orleans, serving on his return as clerk in charge of a store and mill at New Salem, be longing to his employer. The breaking out of the Black-Hawk war in Illinois, in 1832, gave him new and more spirited occupation. He joined a vo- 191 192 ABRAHAM LINCOLN. lunteer company, was elected captain, served through a three months cam paign, and was in due time rewarded by his share of bounty lands in Iowa. A popular man in his neighborhood, doubtless from his energy, sagacity, humor, and innate benevolence of dis position, admirably qualifying him as a representative of the West, or of human nature in its better condition anywhere, he was, on return from the war, set up as a Whig candidate for the Legisla ture, in which he was beaten in the district, though his own precinct, demo cratic as it too was, gave him 277 out of 284 votes. Unsettled, and on the lookout for occupation in the world, he now again fell in charge of a country store at New Salem, over the counter of which he gained knowledge of men, but little pecuniary profit. The store, in fact, was a failure, but the man was not. He had doubtless chopped logic, as heretofore timber, with his neigh bors, and democrats had felt the edge of his argument. Some confidence of this nature led him to think of the law as a profession. Working out his prob lem of self-education, he would borrow a few books from a lawyer of the vil lage in the evening, read them at night, and return them in the morning. A turn at official surveying in the county meanwhile, by its emoluments, assisted him to live. In 1834, he was elected, by a large vote to the Legisla ture, and again in 1836, 38, and 40. In 1836, he was admitted to the bar, and the following year commenced practice at Springfield, with his fellow- representative in the Legislature, Major John K. Stuart. He rapidly acquired a reputation by his success in jury trials, in which he cleared up difficul ties with a sagacious, ready humor, and a large and growing stock of apposite familiar illustrations. Politics and the bar, as usual in the West, in his case also went together; a staunch sup porter of Whig principles in the midst of the democracy, he canvassed the State for Henry Clay in 1844, making numerous speeches of signal ability, and in 1846, was elected to Congress from the central district of Illinois. During his term he was distinguished by his advocacy of free soil principles, voting in favor of the right of petition, and steadily supporting the Wilmot proviso prohibiting slavery in the new territories. He also proposed a plan of compensated emancipation, with the consent of a majority of the owners, for the District of Columbia, A member of the Whig National Convention of 1848, he supported the nomination of General Taylor for the Presidency, in an active canvass of Illinois and In diana. In 1856, he was recommended by the Illinois delegation as a candidate for the Vice Presidency, on the Repub lican ticket with Colonel Fremont. In 1858, he was nominated as candidate for United States Senator in opposition to Stephen A. Douglas, and " took the stump " in joint debate with that pow erful antagonist of the Democratic party, delivering a series of speeches during the summer and autumn, in the chief towns and cities of the State. In the first of these addresses to the He- publican State Convention at Spring field, June 17th, he uttered a me morable declaration on the subject A I .ll All AM LINCOLN. 193 of -lavery, much quoted in the stirring controversies which afterwarda en<ued. We are now," said he. "far into the fifth year since a polic\ was initiated with the avowed object, and confident promise of putting an end to slavery agitations. Under the operation of that policy, that a- it at ion has not only not ceased, Imt has constantly augmented. In my opinion, it will not cease until a crisis shall have been reached and (1. A house divided against itself cannot stand. I believe this govern ment cannot endure permanently, half slave and half free. I do not expect the l*n ion to be dissolved I do not expect the house to fall; but I do expect it will cease to be divided. It will be come all one thing or all the other." Other opinions expressed by him in tli is political campaign, while they ex hibited him as no friend to slavery, placed him on the ground of a constitu tional opposition to the institution. In answer to a series of questions pro posed by Mr. Douglas, he replied that he was not in favor of the unconditional repeal of the fugitive slave law; that he was not pledged against the admis sion of any more slave States into the Union, nor to the admission of a new State into the Union with such a con stitution as the people of that State may see fit to make, nor to the abo lition of slaver} 7 in the District of Columbia, nor to the prohibition of the slave trade between the different States; while he was "impliedly, if not ex- -ly, pledged to a belief in the riulit and duty of Congress to prohibit slavery in all the United Slates Terri tories." With regard n> the acquisition 25 of any new territory, unless slavery is first prohibited therein, he answered: " I am not generally oppo.-ed to h<>ne-t acquisition of territory; and in any given case, I would or would not op pose such acquisition, accordingly as I might think it would or would not aggravate the slavery question among ourselves." Mr. Lincoln, in fine, while he held the firmest opinions on the evil of slavery as an institution, and its detriment to the prosperity of the country, was not disposed to transcend the principles or pledges of the Consti tution for its suppression. lie would not, without regard to circumstances, press even the legitimate powers of Congress. Of the vexed negro question, he said further, on a particular occa sion in those debates : " I have no pur pose, directly. or indirectly, to interfere with the institution of slavery in the States where it now exists. I believe I have no lawful right to do so, and I have no inclination to do so. I have no purpose to introduce political and social equality between the white and the black races. There is a physical difference between the two, which, in my judgment, will probably forever forbid their living together upon the footing of perfect equality, and inas much as it becomes a necessity thai- there must be a difference, I, as well as Judge Douglas, am in favor of the race t<> \\hich 1 belong having the superior position. I have never said anything to the contrary; but I hold that, not withstanding all this, there is no rea->n in the world why the negro is not en titled to all the natural rights enu merated in the Declaration of Iride- 194 ABRAHAM LINCOLN. pendence the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. I hold that he is as much entitled to these as the white man. I agree with Judge Douglas he is not my equal in many respects certainly not in color, per haps not in moral or intellectual en dowment. But in the right to eat the bread, without the leave of any one else, which his own hand earns, he is my equal, and the equal of Judge Douglas, and the equal of every living man." This contested Douglas and Lincoln election in Illinois ended in the choice of a Legislature which sent the former to the United States Senate, though the Republican candidates pledged to Mr. Lincoln received a larger aggregate vote. Mr. Lincoln, now a prominent man in the West, was looked to by the rapidly developing Republican party as a lead ing expounder of its principles in that region. In the autumn and winter of 1859, he visited various parts of the country, delivering lectures on the poli tical aspect of the times, and was con stantly received with favor. In a speech which he made, addressing a mixed as sembly at Leavenworth, in Kansas, in this season, the following passage oc curred, which, read by the light of sub sequent events, appears strangely pro phetic. " But you, Democrats," said he, " are for the Union ; and you greatly fear the success of the Republicans would destroy the Union. Why ? Do the Republicans declare against the Union? Nothing like it. Your own statement of it is, that if the Black Republicans elect a President, you won t stand it! You will break up the Union. That will be your act, not ours. To justify it, you must show that our policy gives you just cause for such desperate action. Can you do that \ When you attempt it, you will find that our policy is exactly the policy of the men who made the Union. Nothing more and nothing less. Do you really think you are justified to break up the government rather than have it administered as it was by Washing ton, and other great and good men who made it, and first administered it ? If you do, you are very unreasonable, and more reasonable men cannot and will not submit to you. While you elect Presidents we submit, neither break ing nor attempting to break up the Union. If we shall constitutionally elect a President, it will be our duty to see that you also submit. Old John Brown has been executed for treason against a State. We cannot object, even though he agreed with us in thinking slavery wrong. That cannot excuse violence, bloodshed, and trea son. It could avail him nothing that he might think himself right. So, if constitutionally we elect a President, and, therefore, you undertake to de stroy the Union, it will be our duty to deal with you as old John Brown has been dealt with. We shall try to do our duty. We hope and believe that in no section will a majority so act as to render such extreme measures neces sary." In the ensuing nomination, in 1860, for the Presidency, by the National Republican Convention at Chicago, Mr. Lincoln, on the third ballot, was pre ferred to Mr. Seward by a decided ABKAHAM LINCOLN. 195 . :unl placed before the country as thf candidate of the Republican five- soil party. lie had three rivals in the field: Breckinridge, representing the old Southern pro-slavery Democratic party; Douglas, its ne\v, "popular sovereignty" modification; Bell, a res pectable, cautious conservatism. In thf election, of the entire popular vote, 4,66LM7<>, Mr. Lincoln received 1,857,- 610; Mr. Douglas, 1,365,976; Mr. Breckinridge, 847,053; and Mr. Bell, 590,631. Every free State except New Jersey, where the vote was divided, voted for Lincoln, giving him seventeen out of the thirty-three States which then composed the Union. In nine of the slave States, besides South Carolina, he had no electoral ticket. Alabama, Arkansas, Delaware, Florida, Georgia, Louisiana, Maryland, Mississippi, North and South Carolina, Texas, cast their votes for Breckinridge and Lane, 72 ; for Bell and Everett, 39 ; for Douglas and Johnson, 12. The " Platform " or series of resolu tions of the Republican Convention by which Mr. Lincoln was nominated lor the Presidency, were explicit on the principles and objects of the partv. The highest devotion was expressed for the Union, with a political instinct seemingly prescient of the future. It was declared that " to the Union of the States this nation owes its unprece dented increase in population ; its sur prising development of material re sources; its rapid augmentation of wealth ; its happiness at home, and its honor abroad; and we hold in abhor rence all schemes for disunion, come Horn whatever source they may ; and we congratulate the country that no Republican ineinber of Congress has uttered or Countenanced a threat of dis union, so often made by Democratic members of Congress without rebuke, and with applause from their political associates; and we denounce those threats of disunion, in case of a popu lar overthrow of their ascendency, as denying the vital principles of a free government, and as an avowal of con templated treason, which it is the im perative duty of an indignant people strongly to rebuke and forever silence. The " maintenance inviolate of the rights of the States, and especially of each State to order and control its own domestic institutions according to its own judgment exclusively," was de clared to be essential to "that balance of power on which the perfection and en durance of our political faith depends," and " the lawless invasion by armed force of any State or Territory, no mat ter under what pretext," was denounced "as among the gravest of crimes." The existing Democratic administra tion was arraigned for its "ineasureK >s subserviency to the exactions of a sec tional interest, as is especially evident in its desperate exertions to force the infamous Lecompton Constitution upon the prototinir people of Kansas in construing the personal relation be tween master and servant to involve an unqualified property in persons in its attempted enforcement everywhere, on land and sea, through the intervention of Congress and the Federal Courts, of the extreme pretensions of a purely local interest." The principles of the party in regard 196 ABRAHAM LINCOLN. to slavery in the Territories, were laid down in the declarations "that the new dogma that the Constitution, of its own force, carries slavery into any or all the Territories of the United States, is a dangerous political heresy, at variance with the explicit provisions of that instrument itself, with contem poraneous expositions, and with legis lative and judicial precedent ; is revolu tionary in its tendency, and subversive of the peace and harmony of the coun try:" and "that the normal condition of all the territory of the United States is that of freedom ; that as our republican fathers, when they had abolished slavery in all our national territory, ordained that no person should be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without the process of law, it becomes our duty, by legislation, when ever such legislation is necessary, to maintain this provision of the Consti tution against all attempts to violate it ; and we deny the authority of Con gress, of a territorial legislature, or of any individuals, to give legal existence to slavery in any territory of the United States." Such were the declarations under which Mr. Lincoln was elected to the Presidency. The legitimate influence of the Government, it was designed, should be exerted to give every fair opportunity for the development of liberty, and not, as was charged upon the Democrats, for its forced suppres sion. For the maintenance of these views, it was admitted by all who were acquainted with him, that a man of singular plainness and sincerity of char acter had been chosen for the chief magistracy. " He is possessed," wrote an intelligent observer who had studied his disposition in his home in Illinois, " of all the elements composing a true western man, and his purity of charac ter and indubitable integrity of purpose add respect to admiration for his pri vate and public life. His word you may believe and pawn your soul upon it. It is this sterling honesty (with utter fearlessness) even beyond his vast ability and political sagacity, that is to command confidence in his administra tion." In February, 1861, Mr. Lincoln left his home at Springfield, on his way, by a circuitous route through the northern States, to Washington. His journey at the start was impressed with the pecu liar responsibility of his new position. A defeated party, supported by the haughty pretensions and demands of the South, which even then stood in an attitude of armed rebellion, was deter mined to place every obstacle in his way which the malignity of disap pointed political ambition could sug gest. He felt that a crisis was at hand requiring the most consummate pru dence and political wisdom in the guid ance of the Ship of State. In taking farewell of his friends at the railway station, at Springfield, he said with fer vor, " no one not in my position can appreciate the sadness I feel at this parting. To this people I owe all that I am. Here I have lived more than a quarter of a century ; here my children were born, and here one of them lies buried. I know not how soon I shall see you again. A duty devolves upon me which is, perhaps, greater than that AlUiAIIAM LINCOLN. 197 which 1i;is devolved upon any other man since the days of Washington. He never would have succeeded except for the aid of Divine Providence, upon uhich he at all times relied. I feel that I cannot succeed without the same Divine aid which sustained him; and in the same Almighty Being I place my reliance for support, and I hope you, my friends, will all pray that I may receive that Divine assistance, without \\ hicli I cannot succeed, but with which success is certain. Again I bid you all an affectionate farewell." With this feeling of religious earnest ness, Mr. Lincoln, who did not over estimate the importance of his position^ set his face towards Washington. At every stage on the journey he took the opportunity, when he was called upon to speak, by the citizens, to express his determination to use his influence and authority equitably for the interests of the nation, without infringement on the rights of any. " We mean to treat you," he said at Cincinnati, to an au dience in which, we may suppose, the Democratic party was liberally repre sented, "as near a> we possibly can as Washington, Jefferson, and Madi><n treated \"ii. We mean to leave you alone, and in no way to interfere with your institutions ; to abide by all and every compromise of the Constitution, and in a word, coming back to the original proposition; to treat you so far as degenerate men, if we have dege nerated, may, according to the example of those noble fathers, Washington, iT on, and Madison." On the same day, the 12th of February, in another speech at Indianapolis, he alluded to the question then pressing upon tin- country for early solution regarding the maintenance of the national autho rity in a rebellious State, by force, it it should be necessary. An outcry had been raised against the " coercion " of a State ? He saw in the clamor, a specious mask favoring a desperate political intrigue which threatened the life of the nation, and he sought to st rip off the disguise that the reality beneath might be seen. Would it be u coercion," he asked, if the United States should retake its own forts, and collect the duties on foreign importations. Do those who would resist coercion resist this ? " If so their idea of the means to preserve the object of their great affection would seem to be exceedingly thin and airy. If sick, the little pilU of the homceopathist would be much too large for them to swallow. In t hei r view, the Union, as a family relation, would seem to be no regular marriage, but rather a sort of free love arrange ment, to be maintained on passional attraction." Everywhere on his journey he was received with enthusiasm. At iSe\v York he was greeted by the Mayor and citizens at the City Hall ; and at Phila delphia, on Washington s birthday, he assisted in raising the national ilag on Independence Hall. In a few remarks on the latter occasion, he spoke feel ingly, ^ith a certain impression of me. lancholy, of the great American prin ciple at stake, promising to the world "that in due time, the weight should be lifted from the shoulders of all men;" adding, "if the country cannot be saved without giving up that priii- 198 ABRAHAM LINCOLN. ciple, I was about to say, I would rather be assassinated on this spot than surrender it." The word " assassination " was afterwards noticed when, a day or two later, it was found that the Presi dent, warned of a plot to take his life on his way to Washington, had felt compelled, by the advice of his friends, to hasten his journey by an extra train at night, to the capital, and thus baffle the conspirators. He had been made acquainted with the scheme on his ar rival at Philadelphia, by the police ; and it was after this intimation had been received by him that he spoke at Independence Hall. He then pro ceeded to keep an appointment with the Pennsylvania Legislature, at Har- risburg, whom he met on the after noon of the same day. At night he quietly returned by rail to Philadel phia, and thence to Washington, arriv ing there early on the morning of the twenty-third. Ten days after, his inauguration as President took place at the Capitol. The usual ceremonies were observed ; but in addition, General Scott had pro vided a trained military force which was at hand to suppress any attempt which might be -made to interrupt them. Happily its interference was not called for. The inaugural address of the President was every way conside rate and conservative. He renewed the declarations he had already made, that he had no intention to interfere with the institution of slavery in the States where it exists, adding, " I be lieve I have no lawful right to do so, and I have no inclination to do so." In a brief argument he asserted the perpetuity of the Union. " It is safe to assert," he said, " that no govern ment proper ever had a provision in its organic law for its own termination. Continue to execute all the express provisions of our national Constitution, and the Union will endure forever, it being impossible to destroy it, except by some action not provided for in the instrument itself." He therefore an nounced his intention, as in duty bound by the terms of his oath, to maintain it. " I shall take care," said he, " as the Constitution itself expressly enjoins upon me, that the laws of the Union shall be faithfully executed in all the States. Doing this, which I deem to be only a simple duty on my part, I shall perfectly perform it, so far as is practicable, unless my rightful masters, the American people, shall withhold the requisition, or in some authorita tive manner direct the contrary. I trust this will not be regarded as a menace, but only as the declared pur pose of the Union, that it will consti tutionally defend and maintain itself. In doing this there need be no blood shed or violence, and there shall be none unless it is forced upon the na tional authority. The power confided to me will be used to hold, occupy and possess the property and places belong ing to the Government, and collect the duties and imposts ; but beyond what may be necessary for these objects there will be no invasion, no using of force against or among the people anywhere. Where hostility to the United States shall be so great and so universal as to prevent competent resident citizens from holding the federal offices, there j * ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 199 will he no attempt to force obnoxious strangers among the people who ol>jc<-t. AVhile the strict Wai riu ht may exi-4 of the Government to enforce the ex- ercise of the offices, the attcni]>t to do BO would be so irritating, and so nearly impracticable withal, thai I deem it better to forego for the time the uses of such offices. The mails, unless re pelled, will continue to be furnished in all pails of the Union. So far as pos- sible, the people everywhere shall have that sense of perfect security, which is most favorable to calm thought and reflection. The course here indicated will be followed, unless current events and experience shall show a modifica tion or change to be proper, and in every case and exigency my best discretion will be exercised according to the circumstances actually existing, and with a view and hope of a peaceful solution of the national troubles and the restoration of fraternal sympathies and affections." This disposition to effect a peaceful settlement of the existing difficulty was further shown in an earnest expostula tion or plea for the preservation of the endangered Union, and the admission or declaration that "if a change in the Constitution to secure this result should be thought desirable by the people, he would favor, rather than oppose a tail- opportunity to act upon it." He had no objection, he said, that a pro; amendment introduced into Con " to the effect that the Federal Govern ment shall never interfere with the domestic institutions of States, includ ing that of persons held to service," should lie made " express and irrevo cable." - " My countrymen," he concluded, "my countrymen, one and all, think calmly and well upon this \\hole sub ject. Nothing valuable can be lost by taking time. If there be an object to hurry any of you, in hot haste, to a step which you would never take deli berately, that object will be frustrated by taking time; but no good object can be frustrated by it. Such of \<>u as are now dissatisfied still have the old Constitution unimpaired, and on the sensitive point the laws of your own framing under it; while the new ad ministration will have no immediate; power, if it would, to change either. 1 f it were admitted that you who ai v dis satisfied hold the right side in the dis pute, there is still no single reason for precipitate action. Intelligence, patriot ism, Christianity, and a firm reliance on Him who has never yet forsaken this* favored land, are still competent to adjust, in the best way, all our present difficulties. In your hands, my dis satisfied fellow-countrymen, and not in mine, is the momentous issue of civil war. The Government will not assail you. You can have no conflict without being yourselves the aggressors. You have no oath registered in Heaven to destroy the Government ; while I shall have the most solemn one to pre serve, protect, and del end it. I am loath to close. We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though pasMon may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affec tion. The mystic chords of memory, 200 ABRAHAM LINCOLN. stretching from every battle-field and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature." In this spirit, the President commen ced his administration. In the following month the bombardment of Fort Sumter, by the South Carolinians under General Beauregard, " inaugurated" the war. On receipt of the news of its fall, President Lincoln, on the 15th of April, issued his proclamation calling for seventy-five thousand militia, to suppress the combi nations opposing the laws of the United States, and commanding the persons composing the combinations to disperse, and retire peaceably to their respective abodes within twenty days. Congress was, at the same time, summoned to meet in extra session on the ensuing 4th of July. When that body met, the Southern Confederacy had succeeded in arraying large armies in the field for the accomplishment of its revolutionary de signs. Various skirmishes and minor battles had occurred in Missouri, West ern Virginia, and elsewhere, and the troops which had been raised at the North were about to meet the enemy in the disastrous battle of Bull Eun. The President laid the course which he had pursued before Congress, calling upon them for " the legal means to make the contest a short and decisive one." He felt, he said, that he had no moral right to shrink from the issue, though it was "with the deepest regret that he had found the duty of employing the war- power." " Having," he said, in the con clusion of his message, " chosen our course without guile and with pure purpose let us renew our trust in God, and go for ward without fear and with manly hearts. The story oi the conduct of that struggle through four years of unexam pled sacrifices by the people, of unpre cedented trials to the State, of a contro versy of arms and principles testing" every fibre of the nation, and ending in the vindication and reestablishment of the Union, belongs to History rather than to Biography. But the part borne in the struggle by President Lincoln will ever be memorable. He was emphati cally the representative of the popular will and loyal spirit of the nation. In his nature eminently a friend of peace, without personal hostilities or sectional prejudices, he patiently sought the wel fare of the whole. Accepting war as an inevitable necessity he conducted it with vigor, yet with an evident desire to smooth its asperities and prepare the way for final and friendly reconciliation. Unhappily, the demands of the South for independence, and their continued struggle for the severance of the Union, rendered any settlement short of abso lute conquest of the armies in the field impossible. To hasten this end, when the condition appeared inevitable, Pre sident Lincoln, after many delays and warnings, issued a proclamation of negro emancipation within the rebellious States, on the twenty-second of Septem ber, 1862. It was appointed to go into effect the States continuing in rebellion on the first of January ensuing. " All persons," it declared, "held as slaves within any State, or designated part of a State, the people whereof shall then be in rebellion against the United States, shall be thenceforward and forever free ; and the Executive Government of the ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 201 United States, including the military and naval authority thereof, will recog nize and maintain the freedom of such persons, and will do no act or acts to repress such persons, or any of them, in any efforts they may make for their actual freedom." This proclamation, in general accordance with the action of the Congress, was a war measure ; it had grown out of the war as a necessity, was promulgated conditionally with an appeal for the termination of the war, and, if destined to be operative, was de pendent upon military success for its efficiency. The war, it was generally admitted, if continued, would put an end to slavery ; and as the slave passed under new social relations by the advance of the national armies, by con quest, by services rendered to the na tional cause, and finally by enlistment in the national armies, this became every day more apparent. The President s proclamation, the great act of his Admi nistration, proved the declaration of an obvious and inevitable result. Two years more of war, after it was issued, of war growing in malignity and inten sity, and extending through new regions, confirmed its necessity ; while President Lincoln, as the end drew nigh, sought to strengthen the fact of emancipation by recommending to Congress and the people, as an independent measure, the passage of an amendment of the Consti tution, finally abolishing the institution of slavery in the United States. President Lincoln, as we have said, in his conduct of the war, steadily sought the support of the people. Indeed, his measures were fully in accordance with their conviction, his resolutions, waiting the slow development of events, being 26 governed more by facts than theories. He thus became emphatically the execu tive of the national will ; his course wisely guided by a single view for the maintenance of the Union was in accord ance with the popular judgment ; and in consequence, as the expiration of his term of office approached, it became evident that he would be chosen by the people for a second term of the Presidency. As the canvass proceeded the result was hard ly regarded as doubtful, and the actual election in Nov., 1864, confirmed the an ticipation. Out of 25 States, in which the vote was taken he received a majority of the popular vote of 23 Delaware, Ken tucky, and New Jersey for McClellan.. President Lincoln s second Inaugural Address on the 4th of March, 1865, was one of his most characteristic State pa pers. It was a remarkable expression of his personal feelings, his modesty and equanimity, his humble reliance on a superior power for light and guidance in the path of duty. Success in his great career, the evident approach of the national triumph, in which he was to share, generated in his mind no vulgar feeling of elation ; on the contrary he was impressed, if possible, with a weigh tier sense of responsibility and a deeper religious obligation. " With malice to ward none, " was his memorable lan guage, " with charity for all, with firm ness in the right as God gives us to see the right let us strive on to finish the work we are in to bind up the nation s wounds to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow and orphans to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and last ing peace among ourselves, and with all nations." The peace so ardently longed 202 ABRAHAM LINCOLN. for was not far distant. On the 9th of April General Lee surrendered the chief rebel army to General Grant, and with that event the war was virtually ended. President Lincoln had been witness of some of its closing scenes at Richmond, O / and had returned to Washington in time to receive at the capital news of the surrender. In an address to a ga thering of the people who came to the Presidential mansion to congratulate him on the result, he avoided any unseemly expressions of triumph, and turned his thoughts calmly to the great problem of reconstruction, upon which his mind was now fully intent. At the close he de clared, in view of some act of amnesty overtures of reconciliation, that it might soon be his duty " to make some new announcement to the people of the South." This speech was made on the evening of the eleventh of April. The fourteenth was the anniversary of Sum- ter, completing the four years period of the war. There was no particular ob servance of the day at Washington, but in the evening the President, accompa nied by his wife, a daughter of Senator Harris, and Major Rathbone, of the United States army, attended by invi tation the performances at Ford s The atre, where a large audience was assem bled to greet him. When the play had reached the third act, about nine o clock, as the President was sitting at the front of the private box near the stage, he was deliberately shot from behind by an as sassin, John Wilkes Booth, the leader of a gang of conspirators, who had been for some time intent, in concert with the re bellion, upon taking his life. The ball entered the back part of the President s head, penetrated the brain, and rendered him, on the instant, totally insensible, He was removed by his friends to a house opposite the theatre, lingered in a state of unconsciousness during the night and expired at twenty-two minutes past seven o clock on the morning of the 15th. Thus fell, cruelly murdered by a vul gar assassin, at the moment of national victory, with his mind intent upon the happier future of the Republic, with thoughts of kindness and reconciliation toward the vanquished enemies of the State, the President who had just been placed by the sober judgment of the people a second time as their represent ative in the seat of executive authority. The blow was a fearful one. It created in the mind of the nation a feeling of horror and pity, which was witnessed in the firmest resolves and tenderest sense of commiseration. All parties throughout the loyal States united in demonstrations of respect and affection. Acts of mourning were spontaneous and universal. Business was everywhere suspended, while the people assembled to express their admiration and love of the President so foully slain, and to devote themselves anew to the cause their own cause for the assertion of which he had been stricken down. When the funeral took place, the long proces sion, as it took its way from Washington through Pennsylvania, New York, Ohio and Indiana, to the President s home in Illinois was attended, at every step, with unprecedented funeral honors ; orations were delivered in the large cities, crowds of mourners by night and day witnessed the solemn passage of the train on the long lines of railway ; a half million of persons it was estimated, looked upon the face of their departed President and friend. LiJ-c&n&ss from. JcTvnson Fiy & Co. PoblisTiers NewYbrk ANDREW JOHNSON. AMONG the many public men in the United States who have risen to dis tinction from humble circumstances by industry and natural force of character, Andrew Johnson of Tennessee, by for tune and position, is certainly not the least noticeable. Born of poor parents, in Ilaleigh, North Carolina, December 29th, 1808, he was apprenticed in his boyhood to a tailor, and was engaged in this occupation in South Carolina till the age of seventeen. He subse quently crossed the mountains border ing his State on the west, travelling, it is said, on foot with his wife, and es tablished himself at Greenville, Ten nessee. Pursuing there a life of indus try, working out, meanwhile, by his own exertions the problem of educa tion for he had never attended school he prospered in the world, and hav ing a disposition to putyic life, with a talent for speaking, he soon became known as a politician. He was elected Mayor of Greenville in 1830, was chosen a member of the State Legisla ture in 1835, and of the State Senate in 1841. For ten years, from 1843 to 1853, he represented his district in the national House of Representatives ; in the last-mentioned year being elected Governor of the State of Tennessee, and again in 1855. In 1857, crowning this rapid series of honorable political promotions, he took his seat as United States Senator for the full term ending in 1803. A man of the people, he represented in the Senate the strongly-nurtured democratic energy and instincts of the West, identifying himself with its well- fare, distinguishing himself particularly by his advocacy of the Homestead Bill, which opened the unsettled territory virtually to free occupancy by the settler. It was not to be supposed that such a man, the representative of the free mountain region of East Ten nessee, where his home lay, would have much sympathy with the great Southern Rebellion. On the contrary, he was, in his seat in the Senate, one of the foremost to oppose its first mani festations. In that memorable session, in the closing months of President Buchanan s administration, when the Southern members were abandoning O their posts, preparatory to their work of treason, he stood unmoved, strenu ously opposing every exhibition of dis loyalty, and calling resolutely on all to maintain the Constitution and the integrity of the Union as the secure and only basis gf popular rights. His course was known and marked by the disloyal in his own State and else- 2u3 204 ANDREW JOHNSON. where. The inob of Memphis, during this period, in proof of their hostility, burnt his effigy, and at the close of the session he was directly insulted and threatened with violence at the railway station, at Lynchburg, Vir ginia, while on his way homeward from Washington. Arrived in East Tennessee, he took part in the Union Convention at Greenville, at the end of May, supporting the declaration of grievances which, in an emphatic manner, bore witness to the loyalty of that portion of the State. On the 19th of June he made a memorable speech at Cincinnati, denouncing, in unmea sured terms, the iniquity of the Ten nessee Legislature, in procuring, con trary to the expressed will of the people, an alliance with the Southern Confederacy. In glowing language he summoned all, without regard to old party considerations, to come to the support of their common country, and " crush, destroy, and totally annihilate " the spirit of secession, as an influence utterly hostile to all religious, moral, or social organization. " It is," said he, " disintegration, universal dissolvement, making war upon everything that has a tendency to promote and ameliorate the condition of the mass of man kind." In the extra session of Congress in July, he reiterated these sentiments in an eloquent speech in the Senate, char acterizing the war upon which the country had entered as a struggle for the very existence of the Government against internal foes and traitors. " It is a contest," said he, " whether a people are. capable of governing themselves or not. We have reached that crisis in our country s history, and the time has arrived when, if the Government has the power, if the people are capable of self-government, and can establish this great truth, that it should be done." Nothing discouraged by the recent disaster to the national army at Bull Run, he exclaimed on this occa sion, at the close of a masterly review of the political situation of the country, after calling on the Government to redouble its energies in the field, " We" must succeed. This Government must not, cannot fall. TJiough your flag may have trailed in the dust let it still be borne onward ; and if for the prose cution of this war in behalf of the Government and the Constitution, it is necessary to cleanse and purify the banner, let it be baptized in fire from the sun and bathed in a nation s blood. The nation must be redeemed ; it must be triumphant." In the months which followed, Sena tor Johnson rendered eminent service by his speeches and influence to the national cause. At length, in the spring of 1862, the Union victories in Tennessee having resulted in the mili tary occupation of Nashville, his patriotism was rewarded by the ap pointment, with the rank of brigadier- general of volunteers, of military Gover nor of Tennessee. He immediately, in March, 1862, entered upon the duties of this office, which he has continued to discharge, through many vicissitudes of public affairs, with firmness and discre tion. AMM;I:\V JOHNSON. 205 At the meeting of the National Con vention of the Republican party, which armbled at Baltimore on the 7th of June, 1804, Andrew Johnson was no minated for Vice President on the ticket with President Lincoln. The nomina tion was well received by the party for the principles and steadfastness of Governor Johnson had been fully tried in his private station and in office du ring the war ; and the success of the ticket, as the canvass proceeded, was re garded as a matter of certainty previously to the election in November. Simulta neously with the inauguration of Presi dent Lincoln, at his entrance on his se cond term of office on the 4th of March 1865, the oath of office was administered to Vice-President Johnson, in the Senate Chamber. He remained in Washington, and was one of the eminent heads of the Government marked out by the assassin Booth and his fellow conspirators to be murdered at the development of their fiendish plot in April, on the anniversary, of the attack upon Fort Sumter. Nar rowly escaping this fate by the timidity or reluctance of the person to whom his murder was assigned, he was, on the instant, at the immediate fatal termina tion of the wound inflicted upon Presi dent Lincoln, called to be his successor in office. Notified of this event, and sum moned to the performance of his new duties by the members of the Cabinet, the oath of office as President was admi nistered to him by Chief Justice Chase, in the forenoon of the fourteenth of April, a few hours after President Lin coln s decease, at his rooms at the Kirk- wood House, in Washington. After re ceiving the oath, and being declared President of the United States, Mr. Johnson remarked to the members of the Cabinet and others present : " I must be permitted to say that I have been almost overwhelmed by the an nouncement of the sad event which has so recently occurred. I feel incompetent to perform duties so important and re sponsible as those which have been so unexpectedly thrown upon me. As to an indication of any policy which may be pursued by me in the administration of the Government, I have to say that that must be left for development as the Administration progresses. The message or declaration must be made by the acts as they transpire. The only assurance that I can now give of the future is reference to the past. The course which I have taken in the past in connection with this rebellion must be regarded as a guarantee of the future. My past public life, which has been long and laborious, has been founded, as I in good conscience believe, upon a great principle of right, which lies at the basis of all things. The best energies of my life have been spent in endeavoring to establish and perpetuate the princi ples of free Government, and I believe that the Government, in passing through its present perils, will settle down upon principles consonant with popular right, more permanent and enduring than heretofore. I must be permitted to say, if I understand the feelings of my own heart, I have long labored to ameliorate and elevate the condition of the great mass of the American people. Toil, and an honest advocacy of the great princi ples of free government, have been my lot. The duties have been mine the 206 ANDREW JOHXSON. consequences are God s. This has been the foundation of my politfcal creed. I feel that in the end the Government will triumph, and that these great principles will be permanently established. In conclusion, gentlemen, let me say that I want your encouragement and counte nance. I shall ask and rely upon you and others in carrying the Government through its present perils. I feel in making this request that it will be heartily responded to by you and all other patriots and lovers of the rights and interest of a free people." At this moment, as an indication of his views, a recent speech of Johnson was recalled which he delivered in Washington at the beginning of April, when news of the capture of Richmond was received at the capital. " You must indulge me," said he on that oc casion, " in making one single remark in O O connection with myself. At the time the traitors in the Senate of the United States plotted against the Government, and entered into a conspiracy more foul, more execrable and more odious than that of Cataline against the Romans, I O 7 happened to be a member of that body, and, as to loyalty, stood solitary and alone among the Senators from the Southern States. I was then and there called upon to know what I would do with such traitors, and I want to repeat my reply here. I said, if we had an Andrew Jackson he would hang them as high as Haman. But as he is no more, and sleeps in his grave in his own beloved State, where traitors and treason ave even insulted his tomb and the very earth that covers his remains, humble as I am, when you ask .me what I would do, my reply is, I would arrest them ; I would try them ; I would con vict them, and I would hang them. As humble as I am and have been, I have pursued but one undeviating course. All that I have life, limb and pro perty have been put at the disposal of the country in this great struggle. I have been in camp, I have been in the iield, I have been everywhere where this great rebellion was ; I have pur sued it until I believe I can now see its termination. Since the world began there never has been a rebellion of such gigantic proportions, so infamous in character, so diabolical in motive, so entirely disregardful of the laws of civilized war. It has introduced the most savage mode of warfare ever prac ticed upon the earth. " I will repeat here a remark, for which I have been in no small degree censured. What is it, allow me to ask, that has sustained the nation in this great struggle ? The cry has been, you know, that our Government was not strong enough for a time of rebellion ; and in such a time she would have to contend against internal weakness as well as internal foes. We have now given the world evidence that such is not the fact ; and when the rebellion shall have been crushed out, and the nation shall once again have settled O down in peace, our Government will rest upon a more enduring basis than ever before. But, my friends, in what has the great strength of this Govern- O ~ ment consisted? Has it been in one- man power ? Has it been in some auto crat, or in some one man who held absolute government ? No ! I thank God I have it in my power to proclaim the great truth that this Government O AMI;I-:\V JOHNSON. LMI7 has derived its strength from the Amer- j>->ple. They have issued the ; they have exercised the power that has resulted in the overthrow of the rebellion, and there is not another Government upon the face of the earth that could have withstood the shock. We can now congratulate ourselves that we possess the strongest, the freest and the best Government the world ever saw. "Thank God that we have lived through this trial, and that, looking in your intelligent faces here, to-day, I can announce to you the great fact that Petersburg!!, the outpost of the strong citadel, has been occupied by our brave and gallant officers, and our untiring, invincible soldiers. And not content with that they have captured the citadel itself, the stronghold of the traitors. O Richmond is ours, and is now occupied by the forces of the United States ! Death to the conspirators clemency to their victims. One word more, and I have done. It is this : I am in favor of leniency ; but in my opinion, evildoers should be punished. Treason is the highest crime known in the catalogue of crimes ; and for him that is guilty of it for him that is willing to lift his im pious hand against the authority of the nation I would say death is too easy a punishment. My notion is that treason must be made odious, that traitors must be punished and impoverished, their social power broken, though they must be made to feel the penalty of their crimes. Hence I say this the halter to intelligent, influential traitors. But to the honest boy, to the deluded man, who has been deceived into the rebel ranks, I would extend leniency. I would say, return to your allegiance, renew yoiir support to the Government and become a good citizen ; but the leaders I would hang. I hold, too, that wealthy traitors should be made to re munerate those men who have suffered as a consequence of their crimes Union men who have lost their property, who have been driven from their homes, beg gars and wanderers among strangers. It is well to talk about things here to day, in addressing the well-informed persons who compose this audience. You can, to a very great extent, aid in moulding public opinion and giving it proper direction. Let us commence the work. We have put down these traitors in arms ; let us put them down in law. in public judgment and in the morals of the world." In the spirit of these declarations President Johnson, shortly after his in auguration, addressed Governor Oglesby of- Illinois, and a number of eminent citizens of the State as well as other delegations from the East and West. To the expressions of sympathy and confidence by Gov. Oglasby he replied : "To an individual like myself, who has never claimed much, but who has, it is true, received from a generous people many marks of trust and honor, for a lonor time, an occasion like this, and a O manifestation of public feeling so well- timed, are peculiarly acceptable. Sprung from the people myself, every pulsation of the popular heart finds an immediate answer to my own. By many men in public life such occasions are often con sidered merely formal. To me they are real. Your words of countenance and encouragement sink deep in my heart ; and were I even a coward I could not 208 ANDREW JOHNSON. but gather from them strength to carry out my convictions of the right. Thus feeling, I shall enter upon the discharge of my great duty firmly, steadfastly, if not with the signal ability exhibited by my predecessor, which is still fresh in our sorrowing minds. Need I repeat that no heart feels more sensibly than mine this great affliction. In what I say on this occasion, I shall indulge in no petty spirit of anger, no feeling of revenge. But we have beheld a notable event in the history of mankind. In the midst of the American people, where every citizen is taught to obey law and observe the rules of Christian conduct, our Chief Magistrate, the beloved of all O * hearts, has been assassinated ; and when we trace this crime to its cause, when we remember the source whence the as sassin drew his inspiration, and then look at the result, we stand yet more astounded at this most barbarous, most diabolical assassination. Such a crime as the murder of a great and good man, honored and revered, the beloved and the hope of the people, springs not alone from a solitary individual of ever, so desperate wickedness. We can trace its cause through successive steps, with out my enumerating them here, back to that source which is the spring of all our woes. No one can say that if the perpetrator of this fiendish deed be ar rested, he should not undergo the ex- tremest penalty the law knows for crime ; none will say that mercy should interpose. But is he alone guilty ? Here, gentlemen, you perhaps expect me to present some indication of my future policy. One thing I will say. Every era teaches its lesson. The times we live in are not without instruction. The American people must be taught if they do not already feel that treason is a crime and must be punished ; that the Government will not always bear with its enemies ; that it is strong, not only to protect, but to punish. When we turn to the criminal code and exam ine the catalogue of crimes, we there O find arson laid down as a crime with its appropriate penalty ; we find there theft, and robbery, and murder, given as crimes; and there, too, we find the last and highest of crimes treason. With O other and inferior offences our people are familiar; but in our peaceful his tory treason has been almost unknown. The people must understand that it is the blackest of crimes, and will be sure ly punished. I make this allusion, not to excite the already exasperated feel ings of the public, but to point out the principles of public justice which should guide our action at this particular junc ture and which accord with sound pub lic morals. Let it be engraven on every heart that treason is a crime, and trai tors shall suffer its penalty. While we are appalled, overwhelmed at the fall of one man in our midst by the hand of a traitor, shall we allow men I care not by what weapons to attempt the life of the State with impunity? While we strain our minds to comprehend the enormity of this assassination, shall we allow the nation to be assassinated ?" M, 14 DAY USE RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED LOAN DEPT. This book is due on the last date stamped below, or on the date to which renewed. Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. DEC "I 1356" REC D LD MAR 6 1957. REC D LD MAR 2 11958 REC D LD OCi 2 / tob9 v^ 17Apr 63MF RECEIVED JAN 2 3 67 -9PM LD 21-100m-6, 56 (B9311slO)476 General Library University of California Berkeley UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY