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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 ?" 
 

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