II LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS AT URBANA-CHAMPAICN IN MEMORY OF STEWART S. HOWE JOURNALISM CLASS OF 1928 STEWART S. HOWE FOUNDATION 920.07 B19p cop. 2 \/ I.H.3. ^>u*Mu.f^*-A.-/Ki&-^^ tihip PARTY LEADERS; SKETCHES OF THOMAS JEFFERSON, ALEX'R HAMILTON, ANDREW JACKSON, HENRY CLAY, JOHN RANDOLPH, of Roanoke, NOTICES OF MA!fY OTHER DISTINGUISHED AMERICAN STATESMEN JO. G. BALDWIN, AUTHOR OF '"THB FLC6U T1MJS8 OF ALAB AMA AND MISSISSIPPI.' NEW YORK: D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 346 upon Randolph's character. He was as thin-skinned as an infant. His whole organization was delicate as a woman's ; nay more delicate. His frame had a nervous sensitiveness, and a fineness of fibre, in harmony with the tone of his mind. The height of the figure, the dark flashing eye, the composed presence, the well-defined features, the elongated chin, and the shape of the head alone relieved his person from the appearance of effeminacy of character, of which no man was more free. CHAPTER III. Virginia at the date of the Federal Constitution— Contrast betw^een the New-Eng- lander and the Yirginian. In order to understand the political character of John Ran- dolph, it is necessary to look for a moment at the State, of whose character and politics he was for so many years a rep- resentative. This glance will help us to understand the reason why Virginia was the leader in the war for State- Rights, and has generally continued ever since to be a pro- minent supporter of those doctrines. Virginia, at the date of the Constitution, was the largest of the States, both in population and in territory. Her proud and effective agency in the revolutionary movement is well known. So prodigious had been the extent of her territory, that it excited the fears and jealousy of the other States ; and to appease them, in a freak of magnanimity, she gave away the immense empire beyond the Ohio. To give THE PURITANS. 149 still greater effect to the concession, she added or suffered the prohibition of slavery in the ceded territory; an act ■which must be regarded, we think, as even more flagrantly impolitic than the gift ; and this, whether we consider the interests of the slave or of the master ; or whether slavery is to be a permanent or a temporary institution. Like most foolish acts of generosity, it brought as little gratitude as profit. The population of Virginia was very different from that of Massachusetts and of the other New England States. The difference between the Yankee and the Virginian was as marked as that between the Roundhead and the Cavalier, or that between the Churchman and the Puritan in the moth- er country ; or, rather, the difference was the same. The iron men of New England came from old England as from the house of bondage. They fled from persecution, leaving behind neither attachments nor regrets. They were strongly touched with Republicanism in England. They soon be- came full-grown Republicans in their forest homes, which were, indeed, the only homes they had ever known. They were a race of men, stern, practical, ascetic, serious, devout, prejudiced, fanatical, fearing God, and without other fear ; scorning the tendernesses and humanities, the elegant arts, embellishments, and refinements of polished and cultivated life, as weaknesses, if not denouncing them as sins ; magni- fying small frailties into huge crimes ; carrying religion into government, and seeking to enforce religious duties and ob- servances by the arm of temporal authority ; pushing an in- 150 JOHN RANDOLPH. quisitorial spirit of tyranny and espionage into the families and affairs of the members of the community ; harsh to visit punishment, and ruling in state and household by fear more than by kindness and love ; men of large reverence, and high and conscientious, though often mistaken, sense of duty ; of strong passions, the instruments of stronger wills ; of fixed purposes, and of an energy and faith that never fainted in adversity, or quailed before danger and difficulty ; obeying law with a prompt and reverential obedience ; administering it usually with justice, and executing it always without mercy. Probably the world has never seen so efficient a breed of men ; for the men of Lexington and Bunker-Hill were of the same strain with the men before whose unprac- tised valor, under Cromwell and Fairfax, the trained chi- valry and fiery courage of Prince Rupert and his cavaliers went down at Naseby and on Marstou Moor. They had settled on barren rocks and on arid, stony hills. What of that? They have crowned the hills with villatres, made the long coast gleam with gas-lit streets, like beacons on the shore, and the sterile soil to blossom as the rose. They brought but little outward wealth, but the wealth of mines was imbedded in their untiring labor, which was a godly virtue, and in their close economy, which was a saving grace ; for even the business virtues were the offshoots and products of their religious zeal and character. " Restless as the Vikings of old, in the gristle of their youth, they sent out their mariners to strike the whale in the Arctic zone, and to vex with their prows the waters of THE SETTLERS OF VIRGINIA. 151 unknown seas." They soon laid the foundation of the largest marine in the world ; and, almost before they were known to England, as worth either taxing or governing, they were competing with her for the trade of the Asiatic and African coasts. They turned every thing to account, even the seeming disadvantages of soil and climate, of poverty and weakness. The sterility of the land drove them to the sea; their weakness to union; their poverty to greater labor. The rigorous climate hardened them to endure the added toil it required to afford them food and shelter. Such were the mighty race of men, who were the found- ers of empire, and builders of states and cities in the north- ern portion of the Union. Yery different were the settlers in the Southern Colonies, especially in Virginia. This colony was settled by English- men, proud of their country, loyal to the crown and the bigoted King who wore it ; loyal to the successor, who lost it with his life ; and, on the change of dynasty, after the head of the first Stuart had rolled down the steps of Whitehall, keeping their faith, as long as they could, to the heir of his follies and his sceptre. The soil was grateful, and the climate genial; and the woods and fields abounded with easily acquired means of sustaining life. Large grants of fertile lands were made to favored subjects and colonists ; which, under the strict entails, stricter than in England, and the law of primogeniture, as population increased, made the families of the proprietors wealthy. The principal interest 152 JOHN RANDOLPH. was agricultural ; and tobacco, coming into general use, and bearing a high price, became the staple which, for a time, yielded a large revenue. The labor on the esjates was cheap ; being that of servants, transported from the mother country, or that of slaves. The slaves, that "stocked the new plantations," were sold cheap ; — indeed, those engaged in the traffic could well afford to sell them at low prices, as they cost nothing but the trouble of stealing and transporting ; or, at most, were bought at the coast, for a jackknife or a yard of calico per dozen ; and, allowing for a loss of one half by death on the middle passage, the remainder would bear a handsome profit at one hundred and fifty pounds of tobacco apiece. Persons of family and wealth came out from England. Much wealth was thus brought into the colony, and much more was after- wards made. There were no large towns. Williamsburg, the seat of government, with a population of 2,000 souls, was the largest. The planters traded directly with Scotch and English merchants, who supplied them with merchandise, and took their crops, advancing them money as they needed it, and taking mortgages, as the debts begun to grow large, upon their estates. The Vice-Regal Court, with its elegance, and mimic forms of royalty on a small scale, infected the manners of the gentry, and kept up social distinctions among he different classes of the colonists; while the insular situation and retired habits of the planters on their estates, who made large quantities of provisions for which there was no market, made the rites of hospitality a grateful and inexpen- THE OLD VIRGINIANS. 153 sive exercise. The planter had leisure, ease, money ; and, in the absence of other excitements or occupations, amused him self with company, horse-racing, gaming, drinking, and such other modes of recreation as opportunity allowed. Litera- ture was not much cultivated, except among a few, and even by them more as an accomplishment or a means of diversion than as a profession. The established religion was the Church of England ; and the ministers of it, selected more from regard to their own convenience than to the interests of religion, and from the orthodoxy of their profession than the piety of their practice, conformed, as much, at least, to the tone of society around them, as to the injunctions of their faith. The Colony was essentially English — Cavalier-English. Their looks, their religion, their conversation, their com- merce, their education, their manners were all English. The colonists cherished the kindest and proudest feelings for Old England. " They called it their home." Gay, dashing, hospitable, careless, proud, high-spirited and gallant, loving pleasure and excitement, unused to labor or self-denial, there was but little sympathy between the Virginia planter and his more sour, thrifty, practical, shrewd and calculating neighbor of the north. They belonged to essentially different classes of men. The effect of the institution of slavery was marked. It was seen in the pride, the individuality, the social spirit, the refined manners of the higher classes ; and, with these, mingled other and worse effects on the character. The pro- 7* 154 JOHN RANDOLPH. prietors of the large estates lived in luxury and elegance. Whatever wealth or credit could procure was gathered around them. Some of them emulated the style of the English nobility ; and the wreck of many a noble mansion still gives evidence of the past state of its lordly master, though now, like him, mouldering in decay. The feudal times and baronial manners of " merrie Eng- land " seemed revived upon this continent. Indeed, looking down, from his castle-like dwelling, over a broad sweep of wood, and water, and patrimonial fields, tilled by his hun- dreds of slaves, the old Virginian might well feel himeelf scarcely less of a lord than her Saxon Franklins, or her more modern Dukes or Earls. " Old times are changed, old manners gone." The revelry is silent in their halls ; the halls gone to decay. The very site of their mansions is covered with stunted pines and sedge ; and park, and garden, and field, and manor, long since worn out and deserted, are grown over with briers and the undergrowth of the return- ing forest, and never visited, save by the solitary sportsman in quest of the small game, which has taken shelter in tho covert. If caste has its evils, it has its peculiar virtues, too. These are the esprit du carps^ the kindness and social cour- tesy, the gentleness of manners, the chivalry of bearing, the oint of honor, the homage to woman, and a nice regard for reputation. Where there was so much leisure, there was opportunity and taste for intellectual cultivation ; and, at the bar^ and in the public councils, a distinguished array of VIRGINIA AT THE REVOLUTION. 155 talent and eloquence was found. Indeed, at the opening of the Revolution, Virginia had more men of eminent character and intellect, than she or any other state has had at any other period. «U Gfmgt Mr. Ji iif T TSX WOtLTB. AXD IBB aBVnL ISS admirable one. Conaidered with lefeietg to As people, it waa, indeed, a wonderfdl greatly in advance of the system wiiiek it stopped far short o€ the pop«kr jtxpaKtmtata •£ the day. It wa3 the gorernmeBt of a dMB, Aoagh of a class — the freeholders of the stale; and the looked with implicit trust to the gentry. The feelings of loyalty and of ie f eica ce, tanedfroMthc crown, were given to the new gOfemacBi wmd. ila idna. The homage of the people deoeeBded apoa the sea m the state eminent for their talent and virtue ; and Virgina, to this day, though with weakened fvee, haa aiwaja her talent with more pride and ileadfiMlacas thaa aaj state in the Union, South Carolina, perhaps^ excepted. The principal part of the government of the oolaaj hod been done at home. The mother eooatrj, for a loa^ tane scarcely at all, and at no time rtrj greatly, ialcilucd m the usual and apparent acts of gDvemment; interfere, the colony had generally reflated the Even in the revidatioaaiy ftraggle, the Virginia and the other state?, espeeiaDj &e not very close, and the contact of the k not frequent or lasting. The trade and the southern and northern c<^eBies after the war, were smalL There were j< and bickerings between them. There was, but little sympathy between the floathuB end the Ta The Southern people were very much 158 JOHN RANDOLPH. and completely homogeneous ; cherishing the prejudices against " outsiders," which such a people are apt to feel. It must be remembered, too, that, with such a people, there naturally existed great jealousy and distrust of any external power ; for all such power, of late years, had only been seen and felt in its tyranny. These considerations developed their effects, when the ques- tion of the adoption of the Federal Constitution came up for discussion. That Constitution proposed to establish a new government, which, in comparison with their own, looked like a foreign government. It cut down, as was said, the large, impe- rial State of Virginia, with territory enough for a kingdom, into a mere province or appendage of a great central government. It razeed her down in one, and that the most stable, branch of the government, to an equality with Rhode Island and Delaware, less in territory, and scarcely greater in popula- tion than one of her own counties. It took from the state the control and jurisdiction of its own liege citizens, with their lives and property, and transferred them to the Yan- kee. It transferred from her the characteristic and leading faculties of independent government, and created in favor of another sovereignty, paramount and mandatory obligations upon the people of the State ; and put those people, directly and immediately under the power of the new, and, to a great extent, alien government. As might have been expected, there was violent oppo- Bition to the Constitution in Virginia. Patrick Henry and George Mason led the opposition in the Virginia Conven DISTRUST OF THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT. 159 tion; and, out of 168 delegates, but a majority of ten was obtained, at last, in its favor. The stepfather and connections of Randolph sided with the opposition. He was himself, years afterwards, of the same way of thinking ; and, had he been old enough to have engaged in political opinions, he would unquestionably have taken part with his relations. When the new government started, it started, even under the direction of "Washington, under circumstances which naturally drew to it suspicions and distrust. There brooded discontents in too many bosoms, not to make very slight causes the occasions or the pretexts for discharging them. Hamilton and his party led ofi" a policy, calculated above all others, to bring them out. He was for making the new government felt ; for impressing energy upon it, as its char- acteristic quality. The power of government had, in the past, only been known to the people of the South as another name for its oppressions. It is not easy for the common mind to dissociate the idea of governmental strength from the idea of despotism. Then came the exercise of the tax- ing power, a power always ungracious, and generally odious ; and peculiarly hateful at a time when poverty and embarrass- ment made these forced contributions extremely onerous. Although the people of several of the states preferred the new Constitution to the old articles, yet a majority, doubtless, would have preferred a Constitution of less power. And these would naturally be disposed to such a construc- tion of the Constitution, and such a policy of government, as 160 JOHN RANDOLPH. would limit its power to the standard they originally pre- ferred. The passion for liberty, so strong, yet so indefinite and vague, would come in, too, as a powerful auxiliary, whenever appealed to against an act denounced as arbitrary or as an usurpation. And, from the time of the Israelites, we know the inherent propensity in men to be dissatisfied with what is, and to believe and hope for something better in what is to be. But the sentiment of reverence and of gratitude for Washington, and the general confidence in him, were so great, that, though with sadly reduced popularity, he stood the ordeal of two presidential terms. Adams, representing the same policy, succeeded. His whole term was a gaunt- let, run through every sort of assailment and assailants. The Alien and Sedition laws completed his unpopularity in Vir- ginia. These laws were extremely odious in the South. They were supposed to be levelled chiefly at citizens of Virginia, a state the foremost and boldest in opposition to the administration, and in denunciation of the Federalists. The Federal authorities arrested and tried in that state some offenders against the Sedition law — the infamous libeller, Cal- lender, among them. The sympathies of the crowd are nearly always with a state-prisoner. Great capital was made out of the trial, by denunciations of those who sought to put down the liberty of the press, the freedom of speech, and all that. The Constitution was declared to be invaded, rightly so declared, we think ; and Madison, who had been the JAMES MADISON. 161 ablest advocate of its adoption, was now prominent in the assault upon the law and its authors. The old anti Federal- ists, almost to a man, opposed the Adams administration. The same views of policy which led them to oppose the Con- stitution, as making too strong a government, led them to oppose a strong and energetic administration, and a liberal construction of Federal powers. The excitement in Virginia was intense. The Legisla- ture, meeting in 1798, had expressed the strongest condem- nation of the Federal doctrines of the day. Their resolves constituted the platform of the Republican faith; and, though they did not, at first, seem to meet with public favor elsewhere, ultimately became the recognized creed of the party ; as the Report of the year following became its au- thentic exposition. These papers were drawn by Madison, and are sup- posed to be among the ablest productions of his pen. Madison's accession to the Republican ranks was of great advantage to the party. His early antecedents had placed him not far from Hamilton, and very close to Washington, who seems to have entertained, for a time, a high apprecia- tion of his talents, and, for his person, a warm regard. To Jeflferson's influence over him is attributed, and, probably, with reason, the change which had come over his political character and relations. Cautious, prudent, pure of moral character, learned, thoughtful, acute and discriminating, with perfect command of temper, with marked facility and power of diction, and singular apparent fairness in his statements 162 JOHN RANDOLPH. and reasonings, he was, by far, the ablest writer and debater on the Republican side. Indeed, he was the only one among them, who could, at all, compete with Hamilton, either by speech or with pen. Patrick Henry, called out by "Wash- ington, came forth, to the great disappointment of the Re- publicans, on the Federal side. It seems, that the old vete- ran had been smarting under the idea, that "Washington had denounced him as a seditious mobocrat. He had made some carping remarks about "Washington's levees ; and, before that time, had opposed, with great vehemence and zeal, the ratifi- cation of the Constitution. "Washington was advised of Henry's state of mind ; and, through a mutual friend, re- moved this erroneous impression. Unusual pains were taken by both sides to conciliate the great Virginian ; but the Federalists succeeded in winning him to their side ; or, at all events, he attached himself to that party, and prepared to go into the conflict with his usual zeal and ardor. In many respects, Henry was the most remarkable, and, "Washington excepted, the most celebrated man of the Re- public. His early identification with the Revolutionary cause ; his prodigious influence in starting forward, and in arousing the people to undertake and prosecute that move- ment ; the self-exposure he had made when, almost alone, he stood up against and defied the English rulers and minis- ters ; his astonishing eloquence, which was a beacon-light of revolution, shining out above every thing and every one about him ; and his civil and military services, were but some of the causes which gave him so prominent a position before PATRICK HENRY. 163 the country, and so commanding an influence over the peo- ple. He was not merely regarded as the chief orator in a revolution, great and brilliant as this position is ; he was looked upon almost as a prophet of Liberty, and a prophet foretelling and leading the way to great and exalted blessings. He was a man of wonderful sagacity, as well as of wonder- ful eloquence. His principles were eminently Republican. His manners and habits were plain, unpretending, kind and social, with a large, benignant and loving nature. Serious and severe of principle, and yet kind and tolerant towards men, he was a man whom the commons could readily ap- proach, and yet a man whom familiarity did not depreciate. He was even more emphatically, in all respects, than Jeffer- son, a man of the people, and was as proud of the title ; had appeared oftener before them, and in more imposing aspects, and always as the representative of the rights of the masses or of the citizen ; and his name and fame, passing from father to son, had become a sort of heirloom in every family of the State. He became one of those favored characters, whom an entire people agree to consider as the standard of excellence, and to refer to, in language at once affectionate and familiar, as the common favorite and guide. He had crowned many noble qualities with an ardent and unaffected piety ; and had arrived at an age, when respect and love were mingled with veneration. He was very characteristically a Virginian of the middle^lass, with all the local prejudices of an insular patriot for a community among whom he had always lived. He had served Virginia and her alone, reject- 164 JOHN RANDOLPH. ing Federal offices of the first dignity, secretaryships, mis- sions and embassies. He united, too, the habits and manners of the common people witb the high-toned principles of the cultivated gentleman. He was one of those men of whom the people delight to talk. His sayings, his anecdotes, his witti- cisms, his sharp apothegms, his brilliant triumphs on the hustings, in the courts, in the deliberative assemblies, were themes of conversation at every fireside, and on every mus- ter-ground and court-yard. Men followed him about wher- ever he went. His talents, his tastes, even his prejudices, adapted him for a great popular tribune. What would have been demagoguism in any one else, was only the expression of his natural feelings, sentiments and character. The old- fashioned honesty, and the homely virtues of the Virginia fireside found in him their representative and champion. New French ways, and modern refinements of manner, and modes of life, were his aversion. He had never read many books ; but with two works, the noblest of God's works, he was as familiar as any one ; and these were man and the Bible. Had he taken the stump and canvassed the state, it is scarcely too much to say, that the Federalists would have car- ried every thing before them. But disease and age had pal- sied the old warrior's arm. He had fought, except one, his last battle. He came from his retreat reluctantly, at the urgent request of Washington, to aiftounce himself as a can- didate for the lower branch of the Legislature for Charlotte 165 county, in order to be able to meet Madison in the Assembly. John Randolph, then scarcely of the legal age, and bear- ing the appearance of a mere stripling, was a candidate for Congress, in opposition to Philip Boiling, a red-coated, cho- leric Federalist. The spring term of the County Court, the time when, under the old regime, Virginia always brought out her best breed and blood of horses and politicians, witnessed the en- counter, if such it could be called, between the old Repub- lican-Federalist and the young aristocrat-Republican. The news had spread far and wide that Patrick Henry would make his last speech on the first day of court. Schools were dismissed, business was suspended, men flock- ed from the country to hear him. At the appointed hour, proclamation was made that Colonel Henry (the title given him before the war, as he went to seize the gunpowder, when lawless men were led,, as the proclamation of the old colonial governor had it, by one Patrick Henry, a seditious traitor) — that Colonel Henry " would make his last speech, at the risk of his life." Decrepit and feeble, like old Chat- ham in the House of Peers, leaning on his crutch, the vene- rable orator was lifted up on the rude rostrum, to speak to the survivors, few they were, and to the children and grand- children of the large majority of those now dead, whom he had electrified, nearly half a century before, by the first es- says of his marvellous eloquence. The speech, if we may trust tradition, was worthy of his summer prime. Indeed 166 JOHN RANDOLPH. it won for him a new title to renown. Men thrilled and wept at his bidding. It seemed as if he possessed a super- natural power over that large and sjmpathiziug crowd ; as if he could move, at pleasure, the pulses that beat in the veins of the thousands, who looked, lost and absorbed in him, into his speaking face. His magical oratory had destroyed individuality and selfhood in the masses under his spell, and made them, in subjection to common sympathies, seem but as one man ; and that one psychologized and led captive, only able to feel, and think, and act, as the magician com- manded. Making abatement for exaggerations, if we can be- lieve any thing of the statements of opinions, facts and ef- fects, coming from competent and credible men, themselves observers of what they relate, it may be questioned if a more eloquent man than Henry ever lived. He united all the elements of an almost perfect orator. He was enthusi- astic, fervid, impulsive, but not rash, or extravagant, or fana- tical. As M'Clung says of Clay, " Reason held the helm, while Passion blew the gale." His physical organization, as in every true orator, was admirably adapted to the expres- sion of his genius. His moral and emotional sensibilities were quick, finely, yet strongly organized, and modulated, like a fine instrument, the voice to which they gave tone and utterance. His voice was musical, strong, various of tone, and fitted for the expression of every variety of intonation and cadence. His countenance serious, and almost dull when in repose, grew, under the excitement of speech, transfigured, and 167 almost articulate with the emotions that thrilled his soul. The eye glowed or melted, was fierce in indignation, or tender in sympathy, or commanding in its imperial utter- ances of pride and dignity. Few men could stand unmoved the fixed gaze of that eagle eye, turned in scorn or defiance upon them. He did not so much possess, as he was pos- sessed by, the spirit of oratory, when it moved upon him. It transformed his whole port and presence. He seemed another and a higher being under its inspiration. The awkward and slovenly air, the impassive countenance, the listless movement disappeared, as, rising with his theme, he soared, like a Hebrew prophet, to sublime heights of decla- mation and prose-poetry ; and, glowing, inspired, irresistible, he commanded, awed, subdued, fired with passion, or melted with pity, the ductile subjects of his power. The specimens given of him by Wirt, are not always characteristic. Henry's style was pure Saxon-Bible-english. He spoke in no such scanned lines as " the next breeze, that sweeps from the North, will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms." This is Wirt's rhetoric, not Henry's eloquence. The short, vigorous, pictorial sentences, winged with the fire of imagi- nation, of the grand old man, were altogether dififerent froiji these holiday, Eolian tunes. The diflference between them is the difference between Homer and Tom Moore. The lines of Wirt resemble the words of Henry, about as much as the tinklings of the guitar resemble the bugle-notes before a charge ; or as the carolling of a canary resembles the scream of the eagle, when he stoops on his quarry. 168 JOHN RANDOLPH. Henry fell back exhausted into the arms of his friends, after this great speech, amidst the most marked and striking evidences of its impressiveness and power. Randolph rose, probably, to the surprise of every one, to reply. We do not suppose there was any comparison as exercises of oratory, between the speeches of the two. That the crowd, just released from, and still thrilling with, the eloquence of Henry, listened to him at all ; that they listened patiently for three hours ; that they were pleased and en- tertained all that time, and that the effect of the speech was to promote the personal interests of the youthful speaker, is praise enough for any man's first effort. It seems that Henry listened to the reply. He did not rejoin. Probably, it was not expected of him. At the con- clusion, he came to Randolph. He seems to have accosted him in a style resembling that which a father would address to a bright, but forward boy. Taking Randolph by the hand, he said : " Young man, you call me father ; then my son, I have somewhat to say unto thee (holding both his hands). Keep justice^ keep truth^ and you will live to think differently." . Mr. Garland adds : " They dined together, and Randolph ever after venerated the memory of his friend, who died in a few weeks from that day." They were both elected in April. But the death of Henry prevented that collision in the Legislature from which the Federalists hoped so much of benefit, and the Republi- cans apprehended so much of injury, to their respective sides. CHAPTER V. Randolph in Congress— His Political Creed — State-Eights— Opposes Adams's Ad- ministration-Election of Jefferson — Randolph and Hamilton— Excise Abolished — Policy of this — Acquisition of Louisiana — Impeachment of Judge Chase — Ran- dolph as a Party Leader— HLs Unhappiness— Disappointed Love— His Friend- ships — Death of his Friends, Thompson and Bryan. In December, 1799, Randolph took his seat in Congress. The Federalists were in nominal ascendency, but the old dynasty was crumbling, and the sceptre of authority depart- ing for ever from hands that had shown themselves incapa- ble, perhaps, unworthy of holding power. The political character of Randolph was now formed, and formed for life ; for, we think, it must be conceded, that he was one of the most consistent — we think the most con- sistent, of all the politicians that ever lived in the republic. It becomes necessary to define his creed. He was a State-Rights man, and, therefore, a Republican. He was, by conviction, prejudice, and impulse, a strict construc- tionist. He opposed the idea of a great central power, which was to govern Virginia. He was, therefore, opposed to tho 8 170 JOHN RANDOLPH. Constitution ; but the Constitution having been established, he endeavored so to construe it, and so to have the gov- ernment it made administered, as to prevent the existence of this power ; at any rate, to avoid any accession of power to the national government. He believed that the powers of the Federal Government were a mere delegation of powers from the states ;' and that the paramount sovereignty still remained with the states. The great monster evil of govern- ment, in his view, was consolidation. He thought that the great danger in the administration of our government, was this consolidation ; that the Federal Government, was meant to be, or ought to be, construed as a limited agency, for a" few, general, simple, external objects, and inter-state pur- poses ; and that any power beyond these was an usurpation upon the rights of the states. How faithfully he adhered to these doctrines, will be seen in the sequel. We think the expectation, that the government would long be administered in subordination to such doctrines, wholly illusory. Whenever the power was given to the gov- ernment to enforce its own laws, such an idea was hopeless. The character of the government, which exhibited itself as the organ of nationality, would naturally conform itself to the character of the people ; and the bold, aggressive, war- like, practical, utilitarian, eager, impatient race who con- stituted the mass of the republic, would mould the charac- ter of the government, whatever it originally was, to their own type and image ; and such it has become. Indeed, it so happens, that the measures, which have THE NATIONAL GOVERNMENT 171 given to the government its strongest national tone, have been the measures of the State-Rights administrations. The StateKights doctrine supposes a state of hostility or rivalry between the General and State governments ; and that the danger is, that the Greneral Government will invade the province of the state jurisdictions. When the Federal Government increases, the states decrease ; for, what it takes, it takes from the states. The loyalty, respect, homage, affection, which are given to the General Government, are so many cords of attachment wrested from the states. The wars, which the Republic has waged, have produced the strongest Federalism of sentiment and power. They have turned attention away from the state governments to the General Government. The eyes of the citizen and of the world are fixed on that government. The added patronao-e and money attract to it supporters more or less venal. The successes of the Flag hallow it. Patriotism becomes love for the Republic. The national Flag is reverenced as the symbol of our country, and the emblem of our power. We take pride in the great Republic, because it is ours. Who thinks of the poor states, unconsidered and unnoticed ; or who, in time of war, calls himself a citizen of Virginia or Alabama ? No ; he is oiw of the great Ariierican natioyi. All the glaring external symbols of sovereignty are held out by the Federal Government — the flag, the army, the navy, the coinage, the forts, the arsenals, the docks, the customs, the light-houses. The successes of war are common triumphs in which state pride or agency is little known or felt. The soldiers, meeting 172 JOHN RANDOLPH. in mass on the field, are placed under officers other than those of their own sta.te ; and thus a state of war, with its glare and pomp, with its military rules and summary pro- ceedings — its unlimited powers, its excesses, forgotten in adversity, forgiven in triumph — all these things have an air and an " odor " of nationality which were unknown to the earlier ideas of the Republic. Besides, war is the highest executive function, and necessarily centralizes immense power in the hands that wield it. But we anticipate the narrative. Randolph, upon his entrance into Congressional life, early took ground against the administration. The session of 1799, though marked with a good deal of excitement, was not productive of measures of a great deal of importance. The judiciary bill, and the measures for an increase of the army, in view of the difficulties in our relations with France, were the most important. There was but little talent in Congress. Randolph opposed the army bill, and made some intemperate remarks, not in the best taste, concerning the army, calling them mercenaries and ragamuffins. This excited the ire of a brace of lieutenants in the lobby, who .insulted him at the theatre afterwards. Randolph com- plained to the President, who replied rather coldly, and communicated the correspondence to the House; but noth- ing was done, except a reference and report. The stand, however, taken by Randolph in the House at this session, drew on him the attention of the country, and gave an earn- est of the distinction he was destined to attain. The election of 1800-1 was decided in favor of the Re- 173 publicans. But the vote being the same for Jefferson and Burr, the House of Representatives had, under the Consti- tution as it then stood, to decide between them. The Fe- deralists, as the least of the evils, moved thereto, doubt- less, in part, by the intrigues of Burr, preferred hira. A long contest, with many ballotings, occurred. A furor of excitement prevailed. It was thought the government was in jeopardy. Randolph believed that it was only saved by the patriotism of Alexander Hamilton, whose powerful interposition with the Federalists was successful in prevail- ing upon them to withdraw further opposition to Jefferson ; an interposition which, probably, was the instigation of Burr's malignant purpose in the hostile correspondence which, a few years afterwards, he had with Hamilton, under another pretext, and which resulted so fatally to the latter. Randolph ever afterwards spoke of Hamilton in a strain of respect, and with a justice, which it would have been more creditable to Jefferson if he had imitated. Randolph made his first speech in the next Congress, (which contained a Republican majority,) on the bill to repeal the judiciary act, which had been passed in the last moments of the late administration. This act provided for the appointment of a large and unnecessary number of Federal judges. The bill of repeal was resisted, on the ground, that the Constitution having fixed the tenure of the judges' ofl&ce for good behavior, they could no more be re- moved by a repeal of the law, than by an act passed avow- edly to remove them. But, it was answered by Randolph, 174 JOHN RANDOLPH. and it seems to us rightly, that, if the former law was a nuisance, it might be abolished, though the effect were to displace the judges. He urged, that, if the object was not to put out the judges, but hona fide to repeal a bad law, under which the judges held office, the repealing law was not a violation of the Constitution. This, it is true, is deli- cate ground ; for when the Constitution is made to depend upon the motive from which an act is done, it ceases to have any sanction ; or, at least, the Constitution becomes indeter- minate and variable, depending upon the state of a congress- man's conscience or his own account of that state, instead of having written words and recognized rules of construc- tion for the guide. Many of the Republican members seem to have thought that the repeal law was, at least, of questionable propriety ; and, at all events, not a favorable commentary on the text, which the Kepublicans had an- nounced, that all acts of doubtful constitutionality should be avoided. Nathaniel Macon, of North Carolina, was chosen Speaker of the House, and Randolph appointed Chairman of the Committee of Ways and Means. He went to work assidu- ously in the important business of his position. His rela- tions, at this time, with Jefferson, seem to have been cordial, politically and socially. He was prominently efficient, in the acts making provision for the payment of the public debt, for abolishing unnecessary offices and expenditures, and the other reform measures of the new administration. The great dissatisfaction, which the excise had produced, led early to DIRECT TAXATION. 175 the abolition of the internal tax. This threw the burdens of supporting the government upon the importations. We think it very questionable whether this measure, in the end, has not been injurious to the State-Rights party. It made the government sit too lightly upon the people. The masses of the people of any country feel the government chiefly in the taxes. The tax collector brings to vivid remembrance the costs of governmental luxuries. Under the new system the process of government is as easy as the process of breath- ing. Men, not knowing what they pay, nor seeing it in the bills they pay, forget that they pay at all. Indeed, under this chloroform process of extracting taxes, it was a debated point at one time, whether we had not, by the ingenious contrivance of a tariff, fixed it so that foreigners were made to pay our government expenses. Besides, to limit the power of the government, its expenditures must be reduced. If the people had annually to pay the tax collector, they would be apt to scrutinize the items in the bill, and to make them- selves acquainted with the amount and course of expendi- tures. A direct tax on the people of the South to pay the manufactories of the North, for the protection and en- couragement of their fabrics, would not have been laid, or, if laid, would never have been suffered to remain. A tythe- proctor in Ireland, collecting dues from the Catholic to be squandered in high living by the English heretical bishop would be about as popular. If, as Mr. Webster said, we are emphatically a debt-paying people, we are as emphatically a tax-hating people. The pocket sensibilities of the great 176 JOHN RANDOLPH. Yankee nation are morbidly acute. We think the State- Rights politicians, who contended that the Federal go^■eru- ment should be watched with suspicion, and especially those of them who desired to see it held, if not in odium, at least in less favor than the stahe governments, missed their aim, when, to purchase a temporary popularity, they removed a system, which would have been the occasion of perpetual complaints and discontents against the central power. Soon came the question of the purchase of Louisiana. On strict State-Rights principles, this measure was inadmis- sible. Jefferson admitted it to be without constitutional warrant. He defended it on the ground of necessity ; but the necessity was only a high expediency. It seems that Randolph went with him. Then came the impeachment and trial of Judge Chase ; which, we think, was a proceeding that owed its origin very much to the intemperance of party zeal ; and which, both in conducting it and in its result, was a clear failure. Ran- dolph was one of the managers before the Senate. His efforts there, though good specimens of oratory and rhetoric, were rather a foil than a match to the trained forensic skill, legal learning, and rough but strong logical powers of Luther Martin. The relations of this country with Spain, arising from the conduct of the authorities of New Orleans in regard to the navigation of the Mississippi river, occupied a good deal of the attention of Congress and of the Executive. On the whole, the first term of the Republican adminis- RANDOLPH IN THE HOUSE. 177 tration closed with honor, and largely increased popularity to the head of it, and with great benefit to the people. Randolph had greatly distinguished himself, not only as an orator, but as a business man ; and, by his industry, intelli- gence, and zeal in the service, had raised himself to the position of the acknowledged leader of the party in the House. Young, admired, distinguished, in high favor with the Executive and the party, a leading representative from the leading state of the Union, in ilosest correspondence and intimate relations with the President, and allied to him by blood, on a high sea-tide of party popularity, with a character pure and unsullied, and without many distinguish- ed rivals in his own ranks, he might well havelooked forward to the highest rewards of ambition. But, notwithstanding all these things, he was not popu- lar ; at all events, he had made many violent and influential enemies. His manners were not conciliating. His pride was excessive. He neither permitted nor indulged in fami- liarities. His course was open, above-board, frank and independent, perhaps self-willed, certainly impatient of opposition, and not tolerant of contradictory opinions. He was not an out-doors legislator — the most eflFective of all politicians. He did not practise the arts of managing men. He had no adaptation to the dispositions of others. He was wanting in sympathy with his associates ; in conciliation to his enemies. He had no concealments. He never aflfect- ed any liking or respect when he did not feel it ; and he had liking and respect for but few men. He had risen rapidly ; 178 JOHN RANDOLPH. and the envy that always follows merit and distinction, was increased by the haughty manner in which he bore himself towards those who envied him. His wit was in his way. It was not genial or playful, but bitter and sarcastic. For the selfishness and meanness of interested politicians, he had an utter loathing. He readily saw through the purposes and motives of men ; and nothing so infuriates a base mind as the consciousness that its baseness is exposed. Randolph was a bad party-leader. He was positively disqualified by nature from being one. "We do not speak of leadership as it has often appeared in our day. An'i/ man of spirit and honesty is disqualified for such a position. Ran- dolph was more so than most men. He had as soon been a slave as a tool of a President or a party. He had as soon worn the uniform of the penitentiary as the badge of official or party fealty. He had died before he could come into the political market, with his soul in his hand, as Whipple some- where says, asking the dispensers of Federal bounty — " How much is this worth ? " But we speak of a leadership honor- able in itself, and consistent with the claims of conscience and self-respect. He had not the temper for such a position. He had not the coolness, the tact, the knowledge of men, the compromising disposition, the forbearance, the conciliation, the sympathy, the power of making friends of the many, of drawing to himself the confidence and respect of others, the sober gravity and weight of character which befit such a place. He had earned the immortal honor of exciting against DISAPPOINTED LOVE. 1^9 him a host of powerful peculators and ravenous leeches on the Federal treasury. The large list of prominent men, interested in indemnity for the repudiation of the Yazoo grant, was banded against him. He had attacked that colossal swindle, in terms exhausting all the epithets of in- dignant invective. The Yazoo fraud stands to common cheatery as the expedition of Hyder Ali to the Carnatic coast, stands to a single robbery by a foot-pad. It was a gigantic, enormous, imperial fraud. It proposed to steal by the forms, of legislation, through the bribery of the leg- islators, an extent of country, out of which states might be formed, passing through degrees of latitude and lon- gitude ; the descriptive lines being rivers, mountains, and sea-shore. Men of the first position in the country, in Con- gress and in the States, were largely interested in the busi- ness ; and, it may be supposed, felt the keenest animosity against those who opposed the realization of this flagitious enterprise. We turn, for a moment, from Randolph's political career, to glance at him in more private aspects. Randolph, from his youth, seems to have been unhappy. As he grew older, he seems to have grown more unhappy. A private grief weighed heavily upon him after his congressional life began. His correspondence shows the nature of this grief He was attached to a young lady of Virginia, one whom he loved, as he expresses it, " better than his own soul or its author." The course of his love, as with most first loves, did not run smooth. Unlike most first loves, his passion, or its effect^ 180 JOHN RANDOLPH. never lost its influence upon his mind. Long years after- wards, in the dreary winter of his sad life, in the mutter- ings of delirium, he called her name. There is but little sympathy, amongst the mass of men, with the woes of lovers ; and an affair of the heart, however grievously afflicting, like the tooth-ache, is more a matter of ridicule, than of com- passion. But in a temper so sensitive as Randolph's, so morbidly sensible to pain ; to a nature so proud, so passion- ate, so exclusive in the objects of its affections and trust, a love, once fixed, was a permanent influence ; and the dissolu- tion of such a tie would leave the heart, ever afterwards, desolate and bleeding. He had, in youth, contracted an intimacy with a young gentleman of the name of Thompson. The friendship seems to have been unusually ardent and disinterested. Thompson was a man of gaiety and wit, and of fine social qualities, but dissipated in his habits, and infirm in his purposes. He had sunk low in his associations and reputation, in conse- quence of these irregularities. Randolph, however, did not desert him, nor did he abate, in the least, his attentions and interest in him. The letters written to this unhappy youtig man, do Randolph the highest credit. They show, in lively colors, the real nobleness of his soul. We have never chanc- ed to see any letters which breathe a more delicate, a more ardent, and a more generous friendship. They show mr^re than this. They show a love of truth, a loftiness of princi- ple, and a courage and fidelity in discharging the more^ un- JOE BRYAN. 181 gracious duties of friendship, which only a good and a great man could exhibit. Randolph procured for him an office in Louisiana ; and the young man, with many resolutions of amendment, started to go to that territory to assume its duties ; but he died on the way. Another intimate friend of Randolph's boyhood was Jo- seph Bryan, of Georgia, a mad-cap, frolicking, dashing, jo- vial, light-hearted, warm-souled fellow as ever cracked a bot- tle or a jest. These light traits were but the froth that stronger qualities threw to the top. Joe took to politics, got to be a member of Congress, and married a lovely girl. His loving heart now ran over with happiness; and, looking out on life as a long day of sunshine, he gives utterance to his joy after such a fashion that we feel almost as happy as himself in sympathy with his bliss. Alas ! a year or two passed, and laughter-loving, warm-hearted, whole-souled Joe Bryan died ; the lovely bride died, too ; and two children were left orphans, one of them named after Randolph. Randolph became a father to the children, and John, his namesake, was years afterwards married to his niece. It seemed as if a fatality was about him, that all to whom his heart clung, of the early objects of attachment, were torn from him. CHAPTER VI. Jefferson's Second Term — Our Foreign Eelations — State of Europe — President's Con- duct—Randolph Opposes the Administration— Denounced by his Party — Keturns Home — Illness and Unhappiness. The ninth Congress commenced its session under the second term of Jefferson. So fa^r affairs had gone on, every thing considered, smoothly enough. But now every thing betok- ened a stormy and troubled period. Our foreign relations were complicated to an extent never known before. Never was there a time which required more the higher qualities of statesmanship. With Spain, with France, and with Eng- land, our relations were of the most delicate character. Europe was in uproar and conflagration. One continuous note of hostile preparation and conflict resounded through- out the continent. Whole nations were in camp, and the memorable war for the life of dynasties and kingdoms was raging with a fury and determination worthy of the stake. The modern Alexander was seeking to complete the subjuga- tion of the world. But one obstacle stood in his way. Twenty miles of sea rolled between his camp and England, ENGLAND AND FRANCE. 183 He could see, but could not reach, the last fortress of free- dom in the old world. England was mistress of the seas. He looked out from Calais to the white cliflfs of Dover, and gnashed his teeth, in impotent rage, at the little space of water that kept him from his spoil. Nelson had swept the French fleet and that of her allies from the water. Every body knew — indeed, either rival boldly proclaimed, that the war was a war for the extermination of the adverse power. Two nations, the first powers of all the world, hereditary and immemorial enemies and rivals, whose past histories blazoned, in every glowing page, the brightest achievements that art or arms had ever won ; brave, chivalrous, ambi- tious, proud, vain, vindictive, jealous, burning with the ima- gined or real wrongs and insults of centuries, under their most renowned captains and statesmen, in the eyes of the world, and to the grief or joy of all generations to come, were to fight out the battle which was to determine their own fate and fame, the empire of the world, and the sway of all, or nearly all, mankind. The man of destiny had carried every thing before him. His prodigious genius seemed even less than his prodio-ious fortune. His career was a history of prodigies. He took kingdoms as other warriors take forts. He ran up his flag over capitals, as other generals fly theirs over fortresses. His imperial banner hovered, like the wing of the Destroy- ing Angel, over the great battle-fields to which he led his conquering legions. Monarchs sued at his feet, and great kings were proud to be his allies and subordinates. Eng- 184 JOHN RANDOLPH. land alone, the prouder and the loftier in her heroic isola- tion, stood up against his progress and defied his power ; and England was the most feared and the most hated of all his foes. She had resisted at once his arts of conciliation and his arms. She prepared herself for the conflict. Single- handed and alone, she held him at bay ; firm and unmoved in her majestic port, against a world in arms. In this state of things — England all powerful on the seas, Bonaparte all powerful on the land, each straining every nerve to injure the other, holding that to be the highest earthly object, the very purpose and only security of exist- ence — it could not be otherwise than that neutral" rights and nations must sufi"er detriment. Upon Spain, our claims for redress and for settlement of vexatious dijfficulties, seemed first in time, and the most urgent in character. She had acted in a spirit of haughty and characteristic insolence. She was nearest to our ter- ritory. She refused to recognize a convention, signed by her own minister under the eye of the sovereign. She disputed our boundaries, menaced our frontier, and protest- ed against our possession of Mobile. She had committed spoliations on our commerce ; for which, after keeping our minister dallying at court for five months, she refused in- demnity. In the language of Randolph, " Great Britain, indeed, had impressed our seamen, and advanced certain in- jurious principles of national law, which, if carried into their full extent, would materially affect our commerce ; but that Spain, after having refused to make good her solemn stipu- WRONGS OF SPAIN. 185 lations to compensate us for former spoliations committed on our commerce, had renewed the same practices during the present war." She had not, it is true, impressed our seamen, but her cruisers " had plundered and sunk our ves- sels, and maltreated and abandoned their crews in open boats, or on desert shores, without food or covering.'* *' Her Courts of Admiralty had, indeed, advanced no new princi- ples of the law of nations, but they had confiscated our ships and cargoes, without the pretext of principles of any sort, new or old. She had, moreover, insulted our territory, violated the property and persons of our citizens within our acknowledged limits, and insolently rejected every overture to accommodation. With Spain all of our attempts to nego- tiate had died." Such, too, seemed to be the views of the Executive. There would have been short work with Spain, had not other parties stood in the way. To have blown her out of the water, or run her off the land, would have been only holiday refreshment. But France seemed to back her ; and a war with her would have been war with France, too ; besides, in the confused and complicated state of things in Europe, lead- ing, probably, to other difficulties. The supremacy of England on the ocean, naturally made her desirous of realizing its advantages to annoy and cripple her adversaries as much as possible. The destruction of trade between France and her colonies and allies was one of the chief of these advantages. But the keen enterprise of our countrymen saw the opening, offered by this state of 186 JOHN RANDOLPH. things, to a neutral nation, and became the dealers in and carriers of the subjects of this trade, under the protection of the American flag. Not only was a legitimate commerce carried on in this way, but the American name and flag, through a process of fictitious assignments, were fradulently used by belligerent owners of vessels. Ey these means, vast profits accrued to our merchants. Immense fortunes were made by our shippers. England was thus deprived of the benefits she had promised herself from her maritime ascend- ency. To remedy this, the orders in council were issued, which declared the whole coast from Brest to the Elb, in a state of blockade ; the consequence of which was an interdic- tion of commerce with the blockaded ports, under pain of the forfeiture of the cargo and vessel. Bonaparte rejoined, by issuing his Berlin decree, by which England and her ports, and their commerce, were placed under a like inter- dict. There were other questions with England. The denial of the right of expatriation, and her consequent seizure of our citizens, natives of Great Britain, and the search for and seizure of seamen in our ships, were subjects of complaint ; indeed the popular and moving grievance that led to the war. It were a very easy thing to have made terms with either of the belligerents ; but this would have been war with the other. As it stood, we had good cause of war with both. We desired neutrality. "We wished no entangling alliances. Wc desired to reap the rich harvest which a neutral position OUR DIFFICULT POSITION. 187 must have given us. We were after trade, not war — for money, not blood. Unfortunately, we had no navy, or next to none. Had the Federal policy been pursued, and a navy, adequate to the exigencies of the public service, been provided, we might have protected our marine and our commerce on the ocean. Nay, England would probably have shrnnk from encounter- ing us on the sea, where, if not alone equal to her in naval force, we might, in conjunction with her enemies, have im- perilled her supremacy. At any rate, we could have reta- liated any assaults she might have made upon our merchant- men. From our mercantile marine, we could easily, and at short notice, have increased our naval force, to have an- swered any additional demand upon it by the war. But the spirit of party had left us without this right-arm of our national defence. In this anomalous and awkward posture, what was to be done ? If we sided with England, France would be down upon us ; and if England should be subjugated, or withdraw from the contest, the might of the arch-de- stroyer would descend upon our unprotected coasts ; and Spain, standing ready to assist from her adjoining provinces, would, possibly, deprive us of our large South-Western ac- quisitions. If we went to war with England, our vast com- merce upon the sea would be the spoil of her navy, and our coast cities be imperilled ; while we would, of course, lose the fruits of the neutral position we occupied. But the spirit of our people was up for war. The old 188 JOHN RANDOLPH. hatred to England was still a dominant principle among the Republican party ; and the old friendship for France, notwith- standing the excesses and despotism which she illustrated, was still a strong influence with our people. Besides, Jefferson's whole policy, in the early organization and history of his party, had been governed, as by a chart, by enmity to England — kindness to France. His popularity was based in good part on the hatred of the masses to England. The impulses of the highest chivalry would have led Congress to have thrown down the gauntlet to England, Spain and France ! It looks, at the first blush, like mad- ness for a young nation to have done so ; but as there could have been no concert between the belligerents, and either, going out to fight us^ would probably have encountered the other, we do not know that it would have increased, a great deal, the danger ; while it would have crowned the young Republic — it matters not what the result, short of subjugation, was — with a glory beyond all Greek and Roman fame. The suggestion of a far-seeing, self-aggrandizing policy would have been an alliance with England, and a conquest, and seizure in consequence thereof, of the Floridas and Cuba, and the " re-annexation " of Texas and half of Mexico. There was another course recommended by present safety, and great plausibility. It was that of Randolph : To prepare to meet and expel every encroachment by Spain upon our territory, and to protect our possessions ; and, in respect to the others, to hold the maxim to apply in interna- Jefferson's conduct. 189 tional as in municipal law — " Inter arma leges silent : " — to postpone a demand for satisfaction and settlement, for wrongs inflicted by the belligerents, until the parties got cool and sober, and the war in Europe was at an end ; making prepa- rations to sustain our demand when that time should come. Jefferson, we think, was not the man for the crisis. He was not distinguished for executive functions, in times of difficulty and danger. His conduct in the Revolutionary war, when he was Governor of Virginia, is proof of this ob- servation. He was bold of speculation, and an adroit and successful politician. But he was not intrepid and deter- mined in action, when bold issues were to be met, and great responsibilities to be assumed. He had not Jacksonism enough in him to be a great leader in a war movement. In the present crisis, he had no policy. He had a vague idea that something ought to be done, without seeming to know precisely what. The Constitution, his position and the na- ture of his office required him to recommend measures to Congress. He recommended nothing intelligible and defi- nite. He told Congress, he should execute their will with zeal. Congress seems to have had as little will as himself. There was but little talent in that body. There seemed to be no unity or agreement in the members. Every man had his own project, and no man a good one. There was no au- thentic or catholic creed, or chart, or leader. On the Spanish question, the President said : " Formal war is not necessary : it is not probable it will follow ; but 190 JOHN RANDOLPH. the protection of our commerce, the spirit and honor of our country require that force should be interposed to a certain degree ; it will probably contribute to advance the object of peace. But the course to be pursued will require the com- mand of means, which it belongs to Congress exclusively to deny or yield. To them I communicate every fact material for their information, and the documents necessary to enable them to judge for themselves. To their wisdom, then, I look for the course I am to pursue, and will pursue with zeal that which they shall approve." Judge of Randolph's surprise, when the President in- formed him that the means, here spoken of were two mil- lions of dollars, which the President wished appropriated for the purchase of Florida. In committee of the House, Bidwell, of Massachusetts, construed the message into a requisition oi monQy for foreign intercourse. If any doubt could remain, it would have been removed by Mr. Madison, the Secretary of State, who told Randolph, that France would not permit Spain to adjust her differences with us ; that France wanted money, and that we must give it to her or have a Spanish and French war. In other words, that we must pay tribute to France for her consent for us to trade with Spain ! The course Randolph took, in reply to this indirect and humiliating proceeding and its explanations, was characteristic. He boldly rebuked it. He rebuked the course of the President in seeking to throw the responsibil- ity on Congress of doing what he secretly wished, and yet would not openly recommend ] and he closed the interview RANDOLl'II DENOUNCES THE PRESIDENT. 191 with Madison, by abruptly leaving him, with the remark : *' Good morning, sir ! I see I am not calculated for a poli- tician ! " Randolph spoke in the House with great force and power against the bill, appropriating this money, to be used at the President's discretion. He attacked it on principle. He exposed the disingenuousness of the whole proceeding. It was in the course of this debate that a Mr. Varnum declared that the bill, opposed as it seemed to be to the message, was in unison with the secret wishes of the Executive. Ran- dolph attacked him with great eloquence and caustic sever- ity. He denounced " this back-stairs influence, this double dealing, the sending one message for the journals and news- papers, and another in whispers to this House. I shall al- ways," said he, " reprobate such language ; and consider it unworthy of any man holding a seat in this House. I had before always flattered myself, that it would be a thousand years hence before our institutions would have given birth to these Charles Jenkinses in politics." Such was the language of John Randolph on this occa- sion : and right bold and manly language it was, befitting the lips of an independent representative, in response to the secret dictation of the Executive. Randolph thus broke ground against the party in power ; and, for the future, con- tinued in opposition to the most important measures of the Jefl'erson, Madison, and Monroe administrations. The President made no recommendation of specific measures to Congress, in reference to our relations with 192 JOHN RANDOLPH. England ; but the tone and temper of the correspondence between the two countries, and the representations of our grievances in the messages, show that the present posture of affairs could not long continue. Something, it was evident, must be done. Neither consistency nor the outside pressure would allow the government to stand still ; and the Presi- dent was not prepared to go to war. The only alternative seemed to be, a middle ground, a sort of compromise be- tween peace and war. If we could not resist, we could show resentment. If we could not fight, we might growl. Accord- ingly, Mr. Gregg brought in his non-intercourse resolutions, cutting off commercial correspondence with Great Britain. This was neither a war measure nor a peace measure, but something between both. Randolph vehemently opposed it. He was for war, direct and open, if we must fight at all. He said, " If war is necessary, let us have war. But while I have life, I will never consent to these incipient war measures, which, in their commencement, breathe nothing but peace, though they plunge us, at last, into war." He argued against it as a war measure, and against an offensive war, as contrary to the Constitution. " I declare," said he, " in the face of day, that this government never was in- stituted for the purposes of offensive warfare. No ; it was framed (to use its own language) for the common defence and general welfare, which are inconsistent with offensive war. I call that offensive war which goes out of our jurisdiction and limits, for the attainment or protection of objects not within those limits or that jurisdiction. As in 1798, I was A SINGULAR FACT. 193 opposed to this species of warfare, because I believed it would raze the Constitution to its very foundation, so, in 1806, am I opposed to it on the same grounds." As to the impressment of our seamen, Randolph thought that it afforded just grounds for indignant resentment, but he saw no reason for putting that matter to extremity now, more than at any time within the preceding five years. It is one of the most singular facts of history, that, in regard to the policy towards England, there was no oflBcial recommendation or opinion, either of the President, or of the Cabinet, as individuals or collectively; and that the President declared openly that he had none ! The resolution of Gregg was modified, so as to exclude only certain enumerated articles, and not to make a total ex- clusion of all subjects of traffic. The bill, thus modified, passed; eighty-seven Republicans voting for, and eleven against it. The Federalists went against it en masse. The whole opposition was only twenty-four. Randolph's course drew down upon him great odium from the friends of the administration. It could not be other- wise. A bolder and more unqualified assault was never made. The tone of it was as decided and as daring as the matter. There was no mincing of words, or hinting, or hesi- tating, or glossing over unpalatable truths. It was a vehe- ment onslaught, and the eloquence, the ability, the boldness must have carried consternation to those in power, as well as indignation for the exposures he had made of their du- plicity and want of courage. Jefferson says, in his letters, 9 194 JOHN RANDOLPH. that Randolph " did flutter the Volscii " of the House for a while, but they rallied again. A charge was made against Randolph, that he had taken this course in resentment against the administration for not appointing him minister to England. It seems, that some friend of Randolph's suggested his name, without his know- ledge, to the President, for this appointment ; and that the President declined to make the nomination. It is highly probable that such a circumstance would, if known to him, have excited the eager resentment of Randolph, whose vindictiveness was easily aroused, and very difficult to ap- pease ; and this fact may have lent some poignancy to his feelings in his opposition to these measures of the Executive. But we feel sure, that it did not induce the course he took. He acted, as he always did, in public matters, upon public grounds and from his convictions. His bearing was not that of a renegade. He did not turn his arms against his old principles, nor his back upon his old friends. He professed no toleration for, he made no fusion with, his old enemies, the Federalists. He was willing, after this trouble vanished, to act with the party where he could consistently do so. His course was in unison with the principles he had ever profess- ed ; and he gave such reasons for it as ought to satisfy any reasonable man that, if he were not right, yet he might well believe he was. In this same session, the fiUibustering proceedings of Burr were brought up for action. The Senate, in a tremor of excitement, on a verbal hint from Jefferson, passed a bill RANDOLPH CHALLENGES T. M. RANDOLPH. 195 suspending the Habeas Corptis. Randolph opposed it in the House, and had a marked agency in suppressing so un- necessary a proceeding. The session drew to a close. It terminated in scenes of disorder. A systematic attack seems to have been made upon Randolph, by the friends of the President, in the last hours of the session. Among others, the son-in law of Jef- ferson, and a relative of Randolph, Mr. T. M. Randolph, assailed him with strong personalities. Randolph challeng- ed him ; but the affair was settled by an apology from the assailant, from his place on the floor of the House. Randolph returned to his lonely retreat at Bizarre, with a title to the respect and admiration of his countrymen, pur- chased at the expense of all the favor he had won, and all the applause and position he had gained, from his party, and of all his hopes of promotion from its power and influence. Ho had preserved his independence. He had, consistently with Republican principles, upheld the rights and privileges of the Representative character. He had opposed principles, as he honestly believed, at war with the interests and char- acter of the Republic. In a day, he found himself tabooed and ignored. He found himself covered with odium. He saw the fruits of long service wither beneath the blasts of executive hostility. The independence of a month had swept away the memory of the service of years. He did not enjoy the quiet and repose of his retreat. A fatal disease, inherited from his parents, lurked in his sys- tem. He was prostrated by it. Indeed, during the last 196 JOHN RANDOLPH. hours of the session, he was racked by horrible pains of body, to which the excitement and troubles of his spirit added torment. For long weeks, he lay upon his bed suf- fering unutterable misery. The lady of his early love and romantic passion married another. He had cherished her image as the idol of his soul. He had abandoned the hope of being united to her in marriage ; but, it seems, looking away from grosser views, he thought that a Platonic relation might exist between them. The austere man, proud, exclu- sive, repulsive, had yet in his heart, cold and hard as it seemed towards the world, one spot, warm and bright — amidst boisterous seas, a little emerald isle, decked with flowers and vocal with melody, and inhabited by the fair being, whom he idolized as the ideal of all that was pure and bright of womanhood and beautiful on earth. CHAPTER VII. Difficulties with England— Monroe's Treaty— The Affair of the Chesapeake— The Embargo— Eandolph opposes it— Jefferson against a Xavy— Gun-Boats- Non- importation Act — Madison's Election — Eandolph prefers Monroe— "War Measures —War— Randolph opposes it— Clay and Calhoun in Congress. Another meeting of CoDgress. The difficulties with Eng- land became aggravated. The restrictions had worked no cure. Thej had hurt ourselves, but not the enemy. Monroe had signed a treaty with England in December, 1806. This promised a settlement of existing difficulties. Monroe was proud of it, and was felicitating himself upon the credit it would do him at home. But the Berlin decree coming to the knowledge of the ministry, the English commissioners added a note that, if France should execute that decree, and our government acquiesce, the treaty should be of no effect Jefferson boldly pocketed the treaty, and there it ended. The truth is, it had got to be almost as dangerous to make peace as war. The outrage on the Chesapeake unfortunately occurred about this time. It excited, of course, great exas- peration. But an English minister was sent to disavow the 198 JOHN RANDOLPH. outrage. Some technical punctilio was interposed to prevent any advances and explanations. The people were hot for war, and for war with England. The " fierce Democracie " were boisterous and vehement for fight. The policy of England and France was driving us from the ocean. The advantages of a neutral position were being lost, while all the evils of proximity to the scenes of hostility were upon us. The President now recommended an embargo upon our vessels. " France and England were told " — we quote from Mr. G-arland — " that it was not conceived in a spirit of hos- tility to them, but was a mere municipal regulation. The truth was, however, and they did not fail to perceive it, that the whole object of withdrawing our commerce from the ocean, was to operate on those two nations. It was intended te starve France and her dependencies, and to break Eng- land, unless they would abandon their absurd pretensions over the rights of neutral nations. But when this happy result would take place, it was impossible to tell. For a measure of this kind to come home to the bosoms and the business of a great nation, must necessarily take a very long time. Indeed, it was reasonable to suppose that the desired object never could be accomplished in that way. The re- sources of England and of France were too great and too varied, to be seriously affected by a suspension of even the whole of American commerce. The event proved what, it would seem, a little forethought ought to have anticipated. After the embargo had been in operation for twelve months, J EFFECT OF THE EMBARGO. 199 those two nations were no nearer being forced into terms than they were at first ; while their spirit of hostility was greatly exasperated. "But what effect did the measure have on affairs at liome — on the character of our people ? Here it was dis- astrous in the extreme. An embargo is the most heroic remedy that can be applied to state diseases. It must soon run its course, and kill or cure in a short time. It is like one holding his breath to rush through flame or mephitic gas ; the suspension may be endured for a short time, but the lungs at length must be inflated, even at hazard of suffo- cation. Commerce is the breath that fills the lungs of a nation, and a total suspension of it is like taking away vital air from the human system ; convulsions or death must soon follow. By the embargo, the farmer, the merchant, the mechanic, the capitalist, the ship-owner, the sailor, and the day-laborer, found themselves suddenly arrested in their daily business. Crops were left to rot in the warehouses ; ships in the docks ; capital was compelled to seek new channels for investment, while labor was driven to every shift to keep from starvation. " Sailors seeing the uncertain continuation of this state of things, flocked in great numbers to the British navy. That service which, in former years, they most dreaded, necessity now compelled them to seek with avidity. Smuggling was ex- tensively carried on through the whole extent of our wide- spread borders ; the revenue was greatly reduced ; and the morals of the people were greatly corrupted by the vastlemp- 200 JOHN RANDOLPH. tations held out to evade the laws. It is difficult to tell on what classes of the community this disastrous measure did not operate. On the planting and shipping interest, per- haps, it was most serious. On the one, it was more im- mediate, on the other, more permanent, in its evil conse- quences." These views are so sensible and so well expressed, that we will not weaken their force by elaborating them. It has been seen that the Executive denied that the embargo was a war measure. Upon his own principles, how was it consti- tutional ? Under what clause of the Constitution, strictly or loosely construed, did it come ? What specific grant would have been rendered nugatory without it as a means of execution ? The effects of the measure upon the country were disastrous to the last degree. Well did Randolph say, " It was the Iliad of our woes." It ravaged and desolated like the march of an invading army. We punished our- selves, but England was not starved into concession. With her navy sweeping the face of the sea, and gather- ing products from every clime, and tribute from every shore, it were as idle to expect to starve her by withholding our breadstuffs, as to attempt to bale out the ocean with a tin- cup. After trying it for a year or more, it was abandoned. The Legislature of Massachusetts, taking example from Virginia, declared it unconstitutional, and, the fiercest op- position to it having been aroused, threatened the integrity of the Union. Jefferson thought that it would have an- JEFFERSON OPPOSES A NAVY. 201 swered its purpose, if we could only have waited a little longer ! Randolph, with all his power and eloquence, opposed this measure. The President advised that our ships should be kept from the sea, and laid up in dignified retirement in our own ports; a suggestion which, to our gallant tars, doubtless seemed like the advice to a man of spirit, to lock himself up in his house, for fear some ruffian might attack him on the street. Randolph held a diflferent language. He advised the arming of the commercial marine, and to let it go out on the paths of a lawful commerce, repelling all force and inva- sion from every quarter. Jefferson opposed the building of a navy, upon the ground that we would only be building ships for the Brit- ish. He thought that gun-boats, to protect the harbors, would be the best provision for the protection of our coast. How cruel was the injustice done to that little navy, planted with a niggard hand, and growing up in the neglect and under the frowns of the government, but which, in a few short years, won such trophies on the ocean, that Canning was forced to declare on the floor of the British Parlia- ment, that it had broken the spell of the naval invincibility of England ! The non-importation act, of kindred nature to the em- bargo, though milder in its bearing upon our interests, suc- ceeded that measure. Jefferson's term was about expiring, and preparations 9* 202 JOHN RANDOLPH. were made for the succession. Madison, late Secretary of State, was the favorite of the Republicans. Mr. Monroe was a rival aspirant. Randolph advocated his pretensions, and bitterly opposed Madison. A sharp contest was the re- sult. But the Republican opposition to Madison had more talent than numbers. The result, as we know, was the elec- tion of Madison ; and Mr. Monroe, after serving for a time as Governor of Virginia, was called into his cabinet. The old difficulties with the belligerent powers of Eu- rope continued to be the engrossing themes of political in- terest. At one time, a good prospect for peace seemed to open upon our relations. A law was passed by Congress, authorizing the President to proclaim a rencAval of commer- cial relations with either of the belligerents, who should re- peal its decrees as to us. Great Britain had promised to do this, if France would repeal her illiberal interdict ; having only, as she declared, prohibited neutral trade to France and her colonies, in retaliation for the French interdict against neutral trade with her. France, accordingly, repeal- ed her decrees so far as we were concerned, with this modi- fication, however, that British manufactures should not be carried to her ports, &c., in American ships. England re- fused, on account of this modification, to repeal her orders, declaring that the true meaning of her proposition was, that when we should be restored to all our neutral rights by France, she would act in the same way. The effect of the modification will be seen at once ; as, without it, English goods, accumulated for many years in her warehouses for WAR MEASURES. 203 want of a market, could be sold as readily through Ame- rican ships in the interdicted markets, as if there were no war ; and hence. Napoleon's whole restrictive system against Great Britain would be, in a great measure, if not entirely, countervailed. We answered, that so far as we wished it, the French interdict was removed, and that England was, therefore, bound to go pari passu with France. Then came the called session of 1811-12, and a warlike message, and another embargo, to last for ninety days ; and at the end of that time, to be followed, as was understood, by hostilities with England, if our grievances were not re- moved. Mr. Madison, it seems, was opposed to the embar- go ; but it was forced upon him. He wished the period for the conditional commencement of hostilities to be extended to the 4th of August. Had this course been adopted, there would, probably, have been no war ; for, on the 23d of June, just five days after the declaration of war, a change having been effected in the British ministry, the orders in council were repealed, so far as they affected this country. But it was too late, of course, to arrest the war. All these war proceedings Randolph opposed. Whatever anticipated want of energy and efficiency — if there was any such want — existed in the Executive department, was more than supplied by the zeal and ability of the Legislature. The crisis had, as usual, brought out the great men. This Congress was a very different affair from the pliant, subservient tools that registered the edicts of the past administration. The lead- ers now were men of the first talents that have ever appeared 204 JOHN RANDOLPH. on the theatre of public action. Henry Clay was in the chair of the House, John C. Calhoun in the chair of the Committee of Foreign Relations ; and they were supported by a strong corps of auxiliaries. Randolph had competitors now who could put him up to a strain of his great abilities ; nay, who were, to say the least, full matches for him when at his highest mark of excellence. He was no longer the sun of the House, extin- guishing all other lights by the effulgence of his blaze. CHAPTER VIII. Clay — Calhoun — Contrast between Clay and Randolph. The leading champions of the war party, in the House, were Henry Clay and John C. Calhoun. These men, now great historic names, were first appearing upon the national thea- tre. They were younger than Randolph in public service as well as in years. "We think it unfortunate for all three that they attained eminence of position so soon. It had been better for their lasting fame, if they had risen by de- grees into prominence, and had developed and matured, by slower stages, their powers of intellect and their political principles. They sprang, at once, almost from boys to statesmen. By a single leap, they vaulted, like young giants, into the first places of fame and influence. Doubtless, the enthusiasm and fervor of youth were important elements of success to leaders of a war movement ; but it was next to impossible that a sudden elevation, like theirs, should not, to some extent, prove unpropitious to those studious habits, that cautious preparation, that philosophic judgment, and 206 JOHN RANDOLPH. tliose matured and far-sighted views, essential to highest statesmanship. Randolph's sagacity enabled him to take, at a glance, the measure of the young giants. " We shall have war now," he said, " those young men have their eyes on the presiden- tial chair." If a harsh judgment, it must be confessed, this was a shrewd guess. Throughout the prolonged discussions on foreign re- lations, Randolph and Clay seemed to be pitted against each other. For Calhoun, strange as it seems, Randolph had even less of courtesy and kindness than for Clay. Though Calhoun, to say the least, in the higher intel- lect, was fully equal to Clay, or to Randolph, he could scarcely bo considered then, if at any time, a rival to either in oratory. His manner was senatorial. He was decorous in debate, singularly free from personalities, making no pretensions to what is called brilliancy, and indulging very sparingly in declamation. Clay was a more effective popular speaker. Calhoun was a great debater ; Clay a great orator. Calhoun spoke from his intellect; Clay as much from his feelings. It was utterly impossible for two such men as Clay and Randolph to be friends, whether on the same side, or any other. There was too . much will, too much impatience, too much ambition, too little yield- ing and compromising, too much equality of intellectual gifts, and too little congeniality of character and disposition, except upon points, where to be alike must lead to a difference. The rival positions of Clay and Randolph RANDOLPH AND CLAY CONTRASTED. 207 led to a good deal of bitterness of feeling, and to fre- quent, spirited and acrimonious sparrings, from which the Speaker's chair did not always protect the former. Ran- dolph complained that Clay took the advantage of him, in putting a test question to the House, as to the war, and in so ruling points of order against him, as to cut oflF free debate. The contrast between Randolph and Clay, will convey a clearer idea of the character of the former. These men were the most remarkable personages of the Congress of 1812, and were severally the leaders of their respective parties. We think, on the whole, that Randolph was not nearly so great a leader ; not that the intellectual differences were so marked as other qualities, even more essential than great intellect, for leadership. Both were men of great eloquence, every where and in every thing eloquent. Both were men of high moral and personal courage ; of chivalrous and gal- lant carriage ; of instantaneous command of varied resources in debate; self-reliant; well-informed, if not learned, in all the information immediately connected with public affairs ; and singularly gifted — as most popular orators are — with a happy facility in stating and reasoning upon facts. They seemed to have preferred this matter-of-fact mode of discuss- ing public questions to subtle theoretic disquisitions, or to arguments based on abstract principles. But the character of their eloquence, as well as their manner, was very differ ent. Randolph had more wit. Indeed, he was unequalled in this effective weapon of debate. He had too much of it. 208 JOHN RANDOLPH. It was not genial, but bitter, sardonic, sarcastic. It ran througb and colored every thing he did, and every thing he said. It gave an edge to his most powerful arguments. It gave piquancy to his most beautiful statements. It prefaced, or rounded off even some of the most exquisite passages of his pathos. He had the rare faculty of condensing an argu- ment into a single sentence, and he could distil that sentence into a biting sarcasm. In knowledge and skill in the use of language, too, he was Clay's superior, if, indeed, any American speaker or writer — for he wrote as well as he spoke — ever equalled him in his astonishing attainments and aptitude in this respect. He not only expressed himself clearly and fully, but his words were the most appropriate the English tongue afforded, for the expression of the exact idea and the exact shade of idea he designed to convey. This was not all. His exquisite and almost faultless taste embellished his opulent resources, and his sentences were musical, harmonious and beautiful. Yet his style was an Apollo, that exhibited masculine beauty only as the best form of health and strength. He had the rare faculty of painting a picture or a character by a single word — a faculty which Mirabeau possessed in so great perfection. His ideality was larger than Clay's. Indeed, he had enough of imagina- tion to have written " Childe Harold ; " and he is the only man we have ever heard of, who could have written it. His fancy, also, was richer and more active. It is difficult to say whether Randolph or Clay had better powers of narra- tion. Both were accurate. The narrative of both was RANDOLPH AND CLaY. '209 vivid, clear and easy. Randolph was more piquant, fresh, racy, pictorial; Clay more close, compact, dignified and imposing. Randolph's intellect had more cultivation. He drew more on the resources of others. His taste was more pure, and he had more comparisons, quotations, anecdotes, inci- dents, from the old classics and the new, from our own and foreign literature, especially the English plays and satires. Clay scarcely ever made a quotation or a classical allusion ; and those he did make were usually close at hand, or had gotten into general circulation before he saw them, Ran- dolph said more brilliant things, more uncommon things, more things that could not be said by any one else. He was always interesting and instructive. Clay was sometimes vapid, and sometimes dull. It required a great occasion or unusual excitement to bring him fully out. The manner of the two was in striking con- trast. Clay, irregular of feature, with nothing but a lofty brow and a bright eye to redeem his face from uncommon plainness, was commanding and dignified in his place, with features changing expression, with pliant ease, in sympathy with his feelings and thoughts. Both were graceful in gesture and action when speaking, though not remarkable usually for grace of movement. Clay's voice was unequalled. Full, musical, sonorous, flexible, never hoarse or obstrep- erous, though sometimes too loud for good taste, it was adapted to every subject and mood, and was especially potent in lofty and impassioned declamation, and in daring 210 JOHN RANDOLPH. and indignant invective. In the mere carte and tierce of digladiation — in those passages of arms, in which personal matters made up the staple of the speech, Eandolph had usually the advantage. In raillery, as galling as Canning's, in subtle irony, delicate and insinuated satire, covert scorn, and short and pungent witticisms, sudden surprises, ingenious turns, and sharp transitions from other subjects to a striking personality — in short, in all the arts of an accomplished satirist, Randolph was an adept. Clay was more direct, and less ingenious and flexible. He came at once to what he meant to say. He could not restrain his impetuosity, and put his indignation or resentment under the tuition of his art. Randolph was unequalled in one thing— in blending his sarcasm with his argument, so that he did not have to wander from the text to say bitter things. He rounded off the argument by some allusion or comparison, which was good as an illustration, and biting as a sarcasm. Randolph looked the embodiment of satire. Tall, emaciated, bloodless, the flashing eyes, blazing over the livid cheek, the skeleton finger, the proud and classic features, cold and unsympa- thizing, or flush with indignant scorn, the haughty air, the sneering lips, the sharp, bony face, and the keen, shrill, piping voice, slow, distinct, deliberate in its varied and most artistic enunciation, made up a manner which gave the fullest efi"ect to intellectual qualities, so well answering to these organs of communication. There was nothing theatrical in all this, though Randolph was the most eccentric of men. His eccentricities, unlike most men's, so far from proceeding RANDOLPH AND CLAY. 21 I from vanity, came from a self-dependence and self-will, con- sulting his own taste and feelings, and almost wholly re- gardless of the taste and opinions of the world, if not ac- tually scorning them. Probably, no other man of his time could express scorn with such withering effect. He felt more scorn than he uttered, even when his utterance was most extravagant. His pride was morbid — Lucifer-like. His dislike transformed the object into a thing of utter meanness and boundless contempt. It is galling enough for a man to feel that another man looks upon him with contempt; but to be under the basilisk eye of one who, in a tone of measure- less superiority, looking the lord and master, barely con- descends to treat the gentleman with the contemptuous re- cognition of a trembling culprit, and to administer to him judicial chastisement for his crimes, or impale him for his follies — to mark him out by his wit for the general derision, and coolly dismiss him to contempt, as an object worthy of no further notice — this is a burden which few men have the philosophy to bear with composure. Clay had considerable humor. He had a good deal of aptitude for ridicule. But it was better natured. He laugh- ed when he excited laughter. He had little propensity to sneer. Randolph's laughter — if he ever indulged in it — was the dry, short laughter of a derisive contempt. But Clay had the advantage in invective. There was frequently a coarseness in the Philippics of both, which marred their style. But Clay's invective was mixed with and colored by an hon- est, and usually a generous indignation. It was always as- 212 JOHN RANDOLPH. pociated with some high principle, which had been outraged, or was excited by some act of cruelty or oppression, some flagrant desecration of a patriotic or moral duty, or by an unfeeling or unjust assault upon himself, his friends or his party. There was at least something human in it. Even when most violent and vindictive, it seemed a fierce explo- sion of uncontrollable wrath upon the head of the foe. Ran- dolph's was more like a cold-blooded torture at the stake, or a deliberate pressing of the red-hot branding-iron into the smoking and hissing flesh of his writhing victim. Clay's eloquence was better adapted, on the whole, for popular eflfect. His sympathies were large and active, and with the masses. His opinion of men was higher. There was a frankness and generosity about him, that conciliated, in advance, the favor of the hearer. He addressed the bet- ter and kinder feelings and impulses, with unrivalled skill. He was plausible, even when not sound. He had the tem- perament that insures popular favor ; sanguine, bold, confi- dent, adventurous. There was something leonine in his gait, look, action. He came up to every question and to every antagonist, without skulking or hesitation. No man was ever freer from prevarication, indirection or equivo- cation. Even Gen. Jackson pronounced him •' a magnani- mous rascal." He had all the requisites of leadership. He was easily approached, practical, familiar; yet dignified, social, kind, generous, manly, bold, enterprising ; of great skill in reading men ; rapid in taking his cue ; quick to see and seize an advantagr; ; firm and constant to his principles CLAY AS A PARTY LEADER. 213 and his party ; and of a will and a spirit that could not be subdued or broken. He rallied a broken party, reanimated the hopes of the despairing, led on a forlorn hope as if assur- ed of victory, and never knew when to give up or abandon a field. Though few men, if any man, ever equalled him as a party leader in debate, this was not his most efi'ective position. While Randolph was preparing his arguments and sarcasms in his solitary room, or in company with one or two friends, Clay was going about from room to room, from mess to mess, from party to party, from man to man, countervailing all opposition ; explaining arm-in-arm to this man : refuting an argument to that, as the cards were shuffled ; in cosy confi- dence with another, over a glass of wine ; prevailing by force of reason and persuasion, with the member from North Carolina — by force of will with the member from Kentucky ; making himself, in this sense, " all things to all men that he micrht win some." There was a contagion in his enthusiasm which communicated his spirit to his friends. Personally, he was at this time very popular. It could not be otherwise. Like Fox, his principles in his hot prime were better than some of his practices ; but, like Fox, his heart was warm ; and his free manners were forgiven in favor of the strong and manly virtues and ardent affections, which were the basis of his character. If the hands went wrong frequently, the mainspring was always right. His vices were all warm- blooded vices, and. these are of all faults the most easily forgiven ; indeed, we are not sure, when in association with 214 JOHN RANDOLPH. snch lofty, generous and chivalrous characteristics as those of Clay, whether they are not elements of popularity. What sort of chance could the aristocratic anchorite stand against such a tribune, especially before the rough backwoods legislators, now coming in from the new states, representing a population clamorous for war, as another name for patriotism ? "We think Clay the more eloquent man of the two. He spoke with more enthusiasm, with more loftiness, with better adaptation to the hearts of men ; and this is the most effective ofl&ce of eloquence. It takes more than brains to make a man. To convince the judgment even, you must often do more than show it a good reason. You must en- list the heart, for it sways the brains. But it was not merely by appeals to the sensibilities of men, that Clay was eloquent In the discussion of questions, mainly to be determined by facts — whether equal to other men in more abstract questions or not — no man of his day could meet him before a popular audience. His style, though carefully cultivated, was not the best. It had considerable clearness and beauty, but it wanted terseness, variety and vigor as prominent character- istics. It had, as his speeches read, something of monotony in the regular roll and measured flow of the Roman sen- tences ; but this blemish was not perceived when, in deliver- ing his speeches, his magnificent voice, and animated and varied manner, gave to his language new point and effect. He spoke best off-hand. His sudden bursts of passionate emotion, when freshly animated by some noble and heroic RANDOLPH AS AN ORATOR. 215 conception, swelled out his utterance and expression into the sublimest strains of eloquence. In this great and telling power, Randolph was wanting. In particular passages, he was brilliant as Curran and Grattan ; in all, he was inter- esting, enchaining attention, gratifying an exquisite taste, imparting instruction, and frequently moulding conviction ; but the permanent impression left was not so strong. He had no faculty of making men in love with his views or conclusions, so that they did not desire, and could not en- dure, opposition to them. And then t\e stream of bitter- ness which he poured through his speeches, was unfriendly to that moral effect which is the highest office of eloquence, by exciting and purifying the moral sensibilities, and mak- ing the triumph of the orator the triumph of virtue itself. He upbraided like an enemy, instead of rebuking like a judge. Randolph was irregular, episodical, wandering sometimes from his subject ; but the episodes were so de- lightful, that, like some of the chapters of Cervantes, the reader regrets the return to the main story. Clay was often diffuse, but seldom strayed from the text. Old Dr. Speece, of Augusta, Va., used to say he would rather listen to Ran- dolph's nonsense, than to any body else's sense. Randolph, skipping over processes of reasoning, frequently struck upon views so deep, so subtle and penetrating, and so hap- pily expressed, that they were cherished more than the most elaborate reasoning. He had the great advantage of a style, singularly pure, yet unique and picturesque ; and so con- densed in particular passages, that his sayings were long re- 216 JOHN RANDOLPH. membered, and had the currency of axioms. No speaker of his day gave his hearers so much to reflect upon, and so many things to remember. If his mind were not of the largest calibre, it may be doubted if he were ever excelled, by any of his countrymen, in the keenness and subtlety of his intellect, and the clearness and vividness of his concep- tions, or in the almost supernatural sagacity with which he saw the tendency of events and the characters of men. The tissue of his mind was of Damascus fineness ; the fibre close and compact. Thqugh without the force and bulk of Clay's, it had more keenness, poli^, and finish. When Clay and he came together, it was as the battle-axe of Richard against the cimeter of Saladin. And these men were now in violent opposition, and were to continue a course of bitter and defiant hostility until long years afterwards, when they became reconciled, under circumstances highly honorable to them both. CHAPTER IX Randolph's Speeches against the War— His Moral Heroism— Calhoun's — Eandolph's Feelings towards England — Excitement against Randolph — Defeated for Con- gress bv Eppes— Goes into Eetirement. .Randolph opposed the declaration of war with all his pow- ers. His speeches on this question were the noblest and most eloquent of his life. He knew he was sacrificing every thing by this opposition. The public exasperation had reached its height. The policy of inculcating hostility to England as a virtue had brought forth its fruit. The equi- vocating and time-serving course heretofore pursued, could not be continued longer. The people, especially the warlike population of the interior settlements, demanded war; and men were now in Congress who were willing to take the lead in bringing it on. Randolph's position was heroic. Right or wrong, he showed himself a man true to his principles, and ready to be sacrificed for what his judgment assured him was the right. He did not wish war at all, because he saw that war was ad- 10 218 JOHN E.ANDOLriI. verse to our interests, and to what he regarded as the true principles of our government. He saw and deprecated the effect* of an offensive foreign war upon the relations of the State and Federal governments. Above the clamors of the crowds shouting for war with England, above the yells and screams of the excited populace in public meetings, and the storm of fierce denunciations poured out against himself, was heard his shrill, piping voice crying out for peace. As we look back upon this scene, we are reminded of a later example of the same lofty heroism. We allude to the day when John C. Calhoun, in the American Senate, pale, emaciated, his eyes glaring, and his frame quivering with ex- citement, lifted up his voice alone.^ in that august body, in opposition to the Mexican war ; and, trembling with pas- sionate patriotism, swore that he would strike a dagger to his heart, before he would vote for an unjust war, heralded in by a lying preamble ! But, more especially, Kandolph did not desire war with England. He had no prejudices against England. He saw and condemned her faults. He did not justify her conduct towards us. But he remembered that we were of the blood and bone of her children. He remembered that we spoke her language, and that we were connected with her by the strongest commercial ties and interests ; that, though we had fought her through a long and bloody war, yet we had fought her by the light of her own principles ; that her own great men had cheered us on in the fight ; and that the body of the English nation were with us against a corrupt and venal ENGLAND. 219 ministry, "when we took up arras against their and oui tyrants. He remembered that from England we had in- herited all the principles of liberty, which lie at the basis of our government — freedom of speech and of the press; the Habeas Corpus ; trial by jury ; representation with taxation ; and the great body of our laws. He reverenced her for what she had done in the cause of human progress, and for the Protestant religion ; for her achievements in arts and arms ; for her lettered glory; for the light shed on the human mind by her master writers ; for the blessings showered by her great philanthropists upon the world. He saw her in a new phase of character. Whatever was left of freedom in the old world, had taken shelter in that island, as man, during the deluge, in the ark. She opposed the only barrier now left to the sway of un- limited empire, by a despot, whom he detested as one of the most merciless and remorseless tyrants that ever scourged this planet. Deserted of all other men and nations, she was not dismayed. She did not even seek — such was the spirit of her prodigious pride — to avoid the issue. She de- fied it. She dared it — was eager — fevered — pautino- for it. She stood against the arch-conqueror's power, as her own sea-girt isle stands in the ocean — calm amidst the storm and the waves that blow and break harmlessly on the shore. She was largely indebted, but she poured out money like water. Her people were already heavily taxed, but she quadrupled the taxes. She taxed every thing that supports or embel- lishes life, all the elements of nature, every thing of human 220 JOHN RANDOLPH. necessity or luxury, from the cradle to the coffin. The shock was about to come. The long guns of.the cinque-ports were already loaded, and the matches blazing, to open upon the expectant enemy, as he descended upon her coasts. We came as a new enemy into the field. It was natural to ex- pect her, in the face of the old foe, thought by so many to be himself an over-match for her, to hasten to make terms with us, rather than have another enemy upon her. No ! She refused, in the agony and stress of danger, to do what she refused in other times. She turned to us the same look of resolute and imperturbable defiance — with some touch of friendly reluctance in it, it maybe — which she had turned to her ancient foe. As she stood in her armor, glittering like a war-god, beneath the lion-banner, under which we had fought with her at the Long Meadows, at Fort Du Quesne, and on the Heights of Abraham, Randolph could not — for his soul, he could not find it in his heart to strike her then. The war was declared. An immense excitement reigned throughout the country. The session at length closed, and Randolph came back to his constituents. He was to be opposed at home. It was a desirable con- summation to defeat him and break him down. He was the impersonation of the anti-war party. His defeat would greatly strengthen the administration, Mr. Eppes, the son in-law of Mr. Jefferson, had removed into his district, to be come a candidate against him. No stone was left unturned The most flagitious reports of British influence and coercion among other things, were put out against him. The excite RANDOLPH DEFEATED. 22 I ment against him grew intense amongst the people. He was threatened with personal violence in one of the counties, if he came among them to address the people. Proudly defying his enemies, he went through the canvass. He exert- ed himself as he never did before. For hours he spoke, and men listened to his burning eloquence, without moving from their position. It was all unavailing. His old constit- uents deserted him. He was defeated ; and, without a mur- mur, he bowed his head to the stroke, and went into retire- ment. CHAPTER X. Randolph's Religious Sentiments and Conduct— Death of his Nephew, Tudor Ean- dolph— Extracts of Randolph's Letters. About this time (1814) a strong impression was made upon Randolph's mind by religion. As he grew up, and for some years afterwards, he wfts disposed to be skeptical, even atheistical. Bat, later in life, the old teachings of his mo- ther came back to his memory and his heart. As troubles multiplied upon him ; as, one by one, the objects upon which he had placed his affections were torn from' him ; as, day by day, he experienced the worthlessness of those things which are souo-ht as the great ends of life and sources of happi- ness, he grew more and more anxious about the dread future beyond this life. This change, in great part, was the fruit of that keen observation of men which distinguished him. The only really happy men he knew were Christians. He was intimate with Moses Hogue, F. S. Key, and William Meade, three men distinguished for talent and attainments, but still more eminent for piety, usefulness, and tranquil and happy lives. He turned his attention to religious Randolph's religious sentiments. 223 studies. lu the solitude of Roanoke — to which he had re- moved from Bizarre in 1810 — he could give an almost uninter- rupted devotion to such studies. He seems to have become firmly persuaded of the truth of Christianity. His progress in this work, marks a most interesting portion of the history of this extraordinary man. He had his doubts and difficulties. Clouds encompassed him. Many things were dark and un- intelligible to his mind ; but he seems to have sought, in a humble and child-like spirit, for light, where alone it could be found. The account he gives of this change is so in- teresting, that we give it, in his own words, to that noble friend, Frank Key, whose friendship for Randolph is itself a guaranty, that Randolph was not the cold-blooded mis- anthrope his enemies have painted. " For a long time the thoughts that now occupy me came and went out of my mind. Sometimes they were banished by business ; at others, by pleasure. But heavy afflictions fell upon me. They came more frequently and staid longer — pressing upon me, until, at last, I never went asleep, nor awoke, but they were the first and last in my recollection. Oftentimes have they awakened me, until, at length, I can- not, if I would, detach myself from them. Mixing in the business of the world I find highly injurious to me. I can- not repress the feelings which the conduct of our fellow-men too often excites ; yet I hate nobody, and I have endeavored to foro-ive all who have done me an injury, as T have asked forgiveness of those whom I may have wronged in thought or deed. If I could have my way, I would retire to 224 JOHN RANDOLPH. some retreat, far from the strife of the world, and pass the remnant of my days in meditation and prayer ; and yet this would be a life of ignoble security. But, my good friend, T am not qualified (as yet, at least) to leave the heat of the battle. I seek for rest — for peace. I have read much of the New Testament lately. Some of the texts are full of consolation ; others inspire dread. The Epistle of Paul, I cannot, for the most part, comprehend ; with the assistance of Mr. Locke's paraphrase, I hope to accomplish it. My good friend, you will bear with this egotism ; for I seek from you instruction on a subject in comparison with which all others sink into insignificance. I have had a strong de- sire to go to the Lord's Supper ; but I was deterred by a sense of my unworthiness ; and, only yesterday, reading the denunciation against those who received unworthily, I thought it would never be in my power to present myself at the altar. I was present when Mr. Hogue invited to the table, and I would have given all I am worth to have been able to approach it. There is no minister of our church in these parts. I therefore go to the Presbyterians, who are the most learned and regular ; but having been born in the Church of England, I do not mean to renounce it. On the contrary, I feel a comfort in repeating the Liturgy, that I would not be deprived of for worlds. Is it not for the want of some such service that Socinianism has crept into the Eastern Congregations ? How could any Socinian repeat the Apostle's creed, or read the Liturgy ? I begin to think with you, about those people. You remember the opinions 1115 RELIGIOUS ANXIETY. 225 jou expressed to me last winter concerning them. Among the causes of uneasiness which have laid hold upon me lately, is a strong anxiety for the welfare of those whom I love, and whom I see walking in darkness. But there is one source of affliction, the last and deepest, which I must re- serve till we meet, if I can prevail upon myself to communi- cate it even then. It was laid open by one of those won- derful coincidences, which men call chance, but which mani- fest the hand of God. It has lacerated my heart, and taken from it its last hope in this world. Ought I not to bless God for the evil (as it seems in my sight) as well as the good ? " Is it not the greatest of blessings, if it be made the means of drawing me unto him ? Do I know what to ask at his hands ? Is he not the judge of what is good for me ? If it be his pleasure that I perish, am I not conscious that the sentence is just ? " Implicitly, then, will I throw myself upon his mercy ; * not my will, but thine be done ; ' ' Lord, be merciful to me a sinner ; ' ' Help, Lord, or I perish.' And now, my friend, if, after these glimpses of the light, I should shut mine eyes and harden my heart, which now is as melted wax ; if I should be enticed back to the ' herd,' and lose all recollec- tion of my wounds, how much deeper my guilt than his, whose heart has never been touched by the sense of his per- ishing, undone condition, This has rushed upon my mind when I have thought of partaking of the Lord's Supper. After binding myself by that sacred rite, should passion 10* 226 -^OHN FvANDOLrH. overcome me, should I be induced to forget in some unhappy hour that holy obligation, I shudder to think of it. There are two ways only in which, I am of opinion, that I may be serviceable to mankind. One of these is teaching children ; and I have some thoughts of establishing a school. Then, again, it comes into my head that I am borne away by a transient enthusiasm ; or that I may be reduced to the con- dition of some unhappy fanatics who mistake the perversion of their intellects for the conversion of their hearts. Pray for me." In a subsequent letter, he tells Key : " In a critique of Scott, vol. xii., upon the Bishop of Lincoln's ' Refutation of Calvinism,' it is stated, that no man is converted to the truth of Christianity without the self-experience of a mira- cle. Such is the substance. He must be sensible of the work- ing of a miracle in his own person. Now, my good friend, I have never experienced any thing like this. I am sensible, and am always, of the proneness to sin in my nature. I have grieved unfeignedly for my manifold transgressions. I have thrown myself upon the mercy of ray Redeemer, conscious of my own utter inability to conceive one good thought, or do one good act, without His gracious aid. But I have felt nothing like what Scott requires." Again to Dr. Brockenbrough, him- self, it seems, at this time, disposed to be somewhat skepti- cal : " I am no disciple of Calvin or Wesley, but I feel the necessity of a changed nature, of a new life, of an altered heart. I feel my stubborn and rebellious nature to be soft- ened, and that it is essential to my comfort here, as well as DEATH OF TUDOR RANDOLPH. 227 to mj future welfare, to cultivate and clierisli feelings of good will towards all mankind ; to strive against envy, ma- lice, and all uncharitableness. I think I have succeeded in forgiving all my enemies. There is not a human being I would hurt if it were in my power ; not even Bonaparte." Another misfortune fell upon him in the death of Tudor Randolph, the son of his brother Richard, and the last of the line. Randolph had designated him as the heir of his fortune, and looked to him as the representative of his house and name. The few pathetic words of his letter to Dr. Brockenbrough, who had announced the death of the young man, which had occurred in England, explain the effect of this blow upon his heart : •' Your kind and con- siderate letter contained the first intelligence of an event which I have long expected, yef. dreaded to hear. I can make no comment upon it. To attempt to describe the situ- ation of my mind would be vain, even if it were practicable. May God bless you ; to Him alone I look for comfort on this side of the grave ; there alone, if at all, I shall find it." The efiect of this calamity on Randolph is thus described by Mr. Garland : •' Many said his mind was unsettled ; that this dark destiny drove reason from her throne, and made him mad. In the vulgar estimation of a cold and selfish world, he was surely mad ; the cries of a deep and earnest soul are a mockery to the vain and unfeeling multitude. David had many sons ; Randolph had this only hope, the child of his affections. Yet when Absalom was skjiu, ' the king was much moved, and went up to the chamber over the 228 JOHN RANDOLPH. gate and wept ; and as he wept, thus he said, ' my sor. Absalom— my son, my son Absalom ! would God I had died for thee. Absalom, my son, my son ! ' " As might have been expected, this new religious influ- ence became, for a while, the controlling principle in Ran- dolph's mind. He was so organized that, when he was inter- ested in any subject, he concentrated his thoughts and feelings upon it, until he became nearly monomaniacal. Hence the extreme vividness of his ideas. For a long while, the hours of his solitude— for he was the most unsocial of men— were given up to thoughts and speculations upon the exceeding mysteries of religion ; mysteries which have baflaed the most gifted intellects, which are too deep for human ken to pene- trate, and most dangerous to the stability of the best-bal- anced mind to dwell long upon. The inquisitiveness of his mind was such, that he could not restrain it from such daring speculations. The affairs of the world became tame and in- sipid. He came reluctantly to the consideration of the most exciting secular interests. He had been elected to Congress again, by his old, and, ever-after, faithful constituents, who sorely regretted their desertion of him before ; and the election was contested, yet he took but little interest in the contest. Even public life had lost its zest. He afterwards declared that Washington City was as lonely a solitude to him as the shades of Roanoke. The one great subject was still uppermost in his mind. But no peace followed. The miracle he spoke of had not yet been wrought. The light was still absent from his soul. He returned to Roanoke HIS CONVERSION. 220 long afterwards (in 1818), and, suddenly, the light shines upon him. His eyes are opened ! He hears the voice Paul heard ! He now sees the rainbow painted on the lately frowning sky. After freaks of eccentricity ; after bursts of petulance and unkindness towards those about him, which seem inconsistent with a rational mind, he writes these lines to Key. "Was it madness or the miracle that prompted them ? Let the reader judge : "Roanoke, Sep. 7, 1818. " Congratulate me, dear Frank — wish me joy you need not : give it you cannot. I am at last reconciled to my God, and have assurance of his pardon, through faith in Christ, against which the very gates of hell cannot prevail. Fear hath been driven out by perfect love. I now know that you know how I feel ; and within a month for the first time, I under- stand your feelings, and those of every real Christian." The following note by him is so full of sense and so characteristic, that we insert it entire. " It is my business to avoid giving offence to the world, especially in all matters merely indifferent. I shall, there- fore, stick to my old uniform, blue and buff, unless God sees fit to change it for black. I must be as attentive to my dress, and to household affairs, as far as cleanliness and comfort are concerned, as ever, and, indeed, more so. Let us take care to drive none away from God, by dressing religion in the garb of fanaticism. Let us exhibit her as she 230 JOHN RANDOLPH. is, equally removed from superstition and lukewarmness But we must take care, that while we avoid one extreme, we fall not into the other ; no matter which. I was born and baptized in the Church of England. If I attend the con- vention at Charlottesville, which I rather doubt, I shall oppose myself then and always to every attempt at encroach- ment on the part of the church, the clergy especially, on the right of conscience. I attribute, in a very great degree, my long estrangement from Grod, to my abhorrence of prelatical pride and puritanical preciseness ; to ecclesiastical tyranny, whether Roman Catholic or Protestant ; whether of Henry V. or Henry VIII. ; of Mary or Elizabeth ; of John Knox or Archbishop Laud ; of the Cameronians of Scotland, the Jacobins of France, or the Protestants of Ireland. Should I fail to attend, it will arise from a repugnance to submit the religion, or church, any more than the liberty of my country, to foreign influence. When I speak of my country, I mean the Commonwealth of Virginia. I was born in allegiance to George III. ; the Bishop of London (Terrick!) was my diocesan. My ancestors threw off the oppressive yoke of the mother country, but they never made me subject to New England in matters spiritual or temporal ; neither do I mean to become so, voluntarily." His. deep respect for religion, and its influence upon his life were never lost ; but, plunging into the excitements of political life, the strong impressions and the resolves, sincere when made, as is too frequently the case, in a great measure lost or intermitted their power. CHAPTER XL Randolph for Vigorous Prosecution of the "War— His Letter to the New England States— Ee-elected to Congress— Opposes the TJ. S. Bank and the Tariflf— His Ill- ness and Despondency — Monroe's Administration — Eandolph Opposes it — The Missouri Question— His Letters to Dr. Dudley— His "Will— Denounces the Slavery Agitation— Opposes the Bankrupt and Apportionment Bills— Visits Europe— His Impressions of England— Opposes the Greek and South American Eesolutions- Opposes Internal Improvements— Opinion of Chief Justice Marshall— Opposes the Tariff of 1S24— Visits England and France. We must go back to trace Randolph's political course. The war declared, and himself in retirement, he was, of course, unconnected with the public measures of the interesting session of 1813-14, But, though opposed to the declara- tion of war, he was for its most effective prosecution. He had no sympathy with, and gave no support to, the enemy. There was, to say the least, great discontent in Massa- chusetts. The minority of the Legislature charged the majority with designing a separate treaty with England, providing for the neutrality of the New England States during the war. Randolph, having been assured that Ids voice would find a favorable hearing in New England, pub- 232 JOHN RANDOLPH. lished a letter to dissuade the people from so unpatriotic a course. This letter is, in all respects, equal to the best of Junius ; with not less of point and directness, and even more of grace and eloquence than characterize the writings of that master of satire. He thus speaks of Adams and Madison : " The name of this man (John Adams) calls up contempt and derision wheresoever it is pronounced. To the fantastic vanity of this political Malvolio, may be dis- tinctly traced our present unhappy condition. I will not be so ungenerous as to remind you that this personage (of whom, and his addresses, and his answers, I defy you to think without a bitter smile) was not a Virginian ; but I must, in justice to ourselves, insist on making him a set-oflf to Madison. They are of such equal weight, that the trembling balance reminds us of that passage of Pope, where Jove weighs the beau's wits against the lady's hair : " ' The doubtful beam long nods from side to side, At length the wits mount up, the hairs subside.' " The language contains few papers more eloquent with patriotism, or invective against England, or in defence of the South, especially of Virginia, than this remarkable letter. On a threatened attack of the British upon Virginia, Randolph took the field, but the enemy did not then appear. No man saw more clearly the effect of a foreign war upon state-rights, than Randolph. He said that the country would come out of the war without a constitution. Ac- " PAY AS YOU GO." 233 cording to the creed of his school, he was not far from the mark. The war over, the project of a Xational Bank, opposed by Clay and Madison in 1811, and now advocated as ne- cessary — the necessity being a result of the war — came up in Congress. The war party, headed by Clay, Calhoun, Lowndes, and others in the House, and by Madison in the Executive department, now sustained the measure. Ean- dolph opposed the bill in all its stages. He seems to have been hostile to all new-fangled modes of getting along in tlie world without labor; and, as such, he considered banking and speculation. He cherished, with as much pertinacity as Franklin, the old-fashioned virtues of economy, industry, and personal independence. Debt he considered a great evil and disgrace, and a bankrupt as a great criminal. " Mr. President," said he, one day in the Senate, in the midst of one of his most brilliant harangues, " I have found the philosopher's stone — Pay as you go." He condemned ex- travagance, paper-money, and trading on credit as a sort of Jeremy-Didlerism, which government should discountenance. He thought the evils of the times originated in looseness of morals, and inveighed with great power against the corrupt- ing influence, and the despotic power of the banks. It was in opposition to this bill, that he said, " If I must have a master, let him be one with epaulettes — something that I can fear and respect — something that I can look up to ; but not a master with a quill behind his ear." He denounced the connection between the Bank and the 234 JOHN RANDOLPH. government as "a monstrous alliance ' This was long in advance of " the divorce between Bank and State," which was a party motto in our day. This certainly is very plain talk : " Let us not disguise the fact, sir (said Randolph, in the House) we think we are living in the better times of the Republic. We deceive ourselves : we are almost in the days of Sylla and Marius : yes, we have almost got down to the time of Jugurtha. It is unpleasant to put oneself in array against a great leading interest in a community, be they a knot of land speculators, paper jobbers, or what not : but, sir, every man you meet, in this House or out of it, with some rare exceptions, which only serve to prove the rule, is either a stock-holder, presi- dent, cashier, clerk, or door keeper, runner, engraver, paper- maker or mechanic, in some way or other, to a bank. The gentleman from Pennsylvania may dismiss his fears for the banks, with their one hundred and seventy millions of paper on eighty two millions of capital. However great the evil may be, who is to bell the cat ? who is to take the bull by the horns ? You might as well attack Gibraltar with a pocket-pistol, as to attempt to punish them. * * * ^ man might as well go to Constantinople to preach Chris- tianity as to get up here and preach against the banks." Equally decided was Randolph's hostility to the Tarifi bill of this session, which though ostensibl}'-, a revenue mea sure, yet contained the seed-principle of protection, that ultimately germinated into the policy, which scattered abroad over the land so much of excitement and discord. HIS U.LNESS AND UNHAPPINESS. 235 Randolph's health, at this time, was wretched. It never was good. He used to say he had been sick all his life. At his best state, he never had more than partial exemption from pain and feebleness. Now, he was in a very low condition. He had many violent attacks of acute disease, bringing him — some of them — to the very verge of the grave. Several of these spells were long protracted. The vital organs were affected ; and he had no doubt, and no room to doubt, that he carried within him a fatal disease. His disease affected his mind and spirits, and colored all objects on which he looked. He became a confirmed hypochondriac. His cor- respondence breathes the dreariest despondency. Every letter is but a dismal picture of the acutest mental suffering and depression. Doubtless, the solitude to which he con- demned himself, contributed greatly to this .state of mind. He writes : '' My case appears to me to be peculiarly miserable ; to me the world is a A'-ast desert, and there is no merit in re- nouncing it, since there is no difficulty. There never was a time when it was so utterly destitute of allurement for me. The difficulty with me is, to find some motive to action, something to break the sluggish tenor of my life. I look back upon the havoc of the past year, as upon a bloody field of battle, where my friends have perished." And again to Key: " For my part, if there breathes a creature more empty of enjoyment than myself, I sincerely pity him. My opinions seem daily to become more unsettled, and the awful mystery which shrouds the future alone ren- ders the present tolerable. The darkness of my hours, so 236 JOHN RANDOLrU. far from having passed away, has thickened into the deepest gloom. I try not to think, by moulding my mind upon the thoughts of others ; but to little purpose." Under the influence of such feelings, no wonder that he did many things — what hypochondriac does not? — which were attributed to mental aberration. But he was far from mad. Indeed, whenever he lost the idea of himself and his suffer- ings, and grew interested in any subject, his mind gave out the sagacity and brilliancy that had distinguished it of old. We come to the " era of good feeling" — the administra- tion of Monroe. Amnesty had been declared for all past political offences, or, rather, a complete fusion of parties, had been accomplished. Federalism, heretofore maintaining, here and there, a solitary post on the lines, or a local ascend- ency in some of its strongholds, had surrendered, on terms of honor ; and the old strifes of party were banished from the public councils. The lion had laid down with the lamb, and a short political millennium had set in. Beside the stalwart old cockade Federalist sat the French disciple of the secret societies. There secerned to be peace, if not friendship, between the old combatants. Though Randolph, at one time, was the partisan of Monroe, or, rather, preferred him to Madison, he seems afterwards to have held him in as great, if not greater, disesteem than his rival. The young war-champions were still leaders over the in- congruous mass ; and, riding on a full tide of popularity, seemingly secure of being, at no distant day, wafted into the first places of power. THE MISSOURI QUESTION. 237 The agitation of the Missouri question brought on a fierce excitement. It was during the pendency of this mea- sure, that a collision occurred, which affected inharmoniously the personal relations of Randolph and Clay. Randolph took occasion to show the backslidings of the Republicans, and the departure of the government from its early republi- can tack ; and inveighed particularly against the inconsist- ency of Clay's course on the Bank, the Internal Improve- ment, and the Tariff questions. He complained that he could not command the attention of the speaker (Clay) ; and stopped, in the course of his speech, " in mid volley," to re- buke him for this direliction. Clay, however, denied the impeachment, and professed that he was paying all possible attention. Randolph complained to his friends that Clay's manner towards him was usually petulant or arrogant — sometimes both He spoke of Clay's conduct in the chair, as a dictator- ship. Probably, it was a little too much to expect of a speak- er to listen, with the most exemplary patience, to such a tirade as Randolph could pour out for " four hours," in ex- position of the Chairman's inconsistencies. Randolph opposed the Missouri restriction with all his mif'ht as impolitic and unconstitutional, and he combated the famous compromise^ with equal vigor. In reference to the rejection of the votes of Missouri, in the Presidential elec- tion, which involved the question of her admission into the Union, and the power to exclude her, because her constitu- tion excluded free blacks from the State, Randolph said 238 JOHN RANDOLPH. " This is no sldrmish, as the gentleman from Virginia has said ; this is the battle where Greek meets Greek. Let us buckle on our armor ; let us put aside all this flummery, these metaphysical distinctions, these unprofitable drawings of distinctions without differences. Let us say now, as we have, on another occasion (the election of Jefferson and Burr in 1801), we will assert, maintain and vindicate our rights, or put to hazard what you pretend to hold in such high estimation." The great excitement wrought upon him by the Missouri question, and by the death of Decatur, to whom Randolph was warmly attached, somewhat unsettled his intellect, and caus- ed him to commit some extravagant freaks, which drew upon him the charge of madness. His mind, however, recovered its usual tone, shortly after his return to Roanoke The advice he gave young Dudley, in a letter written about this time, certainly betrays no touch of insanity. It is difl&cult to find any thing in all literature more truly sa- gacious, or " common-seusical," — to use a word of his own coinage — than Randolph's fine letters to his young friend. In December, 1821, when just leaving home for Wash- ington, booted and spurred for his journey, and his horses and servants waiting at the door, he sat down and wrote the will, which was finally established, after so long a contest in the courts. By this will, he manumitted his slaves — three hun- dred in number — and provided a fund for the purchase of a tract of land for them ; a disposition, which, as it turned out, evinced more of benevolence than sagacity. But never did DENOUNCES THE SLAVERY AGITATION. 239 he speak more wisely, or see more clearly into the eflfect of any movement, than when, as early as 1821, he reprobated the effect of the agitation of slavery by the Abolitionists, upon the interests of the slave : '"I am persuaded" (he said) " that the cause of humanity to these unfortunates has been put back a century — certainly a generation — by the unprincipled conduct of ambitious men, availing themselves of a good, as well as of a fanatical spirit, in the nation." We must pass rapidly over other measures in which Ran- dolph vindicated his consistency to his early creed, especially his opposition to the bankrupt law, and to the apportionment bill. The last bill proposed an increase of the ratio of re- presentation in Congress. It reduced Virginia from a first position. It marked the first step in the melancholy decline she has since experienced, from her ancient estate. He op- posed it, too, because he believed a numerous representation afforded the best security for good government. On the passage of the bankrupt bill, he went to Europe. He visited England. As he approached the shore, the sight of Old England brought back " the olden time " to his memory, and he shed tears of delight. " Thank God," ex- claimed he, " that I have lived to behold the land of Shake- gpeare, of Milton, and of my forefathers. May her great- ness increase through all time ! " The tour promised to be highly interesting and beneficial to the gifted traveller. He started with a better knowledge of the localities and persons of note in England, than most visitors, and, indeed, than most intelligent natives possess. 240 JOHN RANDOLPH. He was received and treated with great attention and kind- ness, and left an excellent impression upon those with whom he came in contact. The refined and cultivated society of England was greatly to his taste ; and he returned home with a large store of valuable knowledge, and many pleasant memories. He returned in time to take his seat in the eighteenth Congress. The Greek and South American resolutions were taken up. The first expressed sympathy for Greece in her struggles with the Turk ; and the other resolved^ that we could not see, w^ithout inquietude, any forcible interposition of the allied powers of Europe, on behalf of Spain, to re- duce the Spanish colonies, whose independence we had re- cognized, to subjection. These were very captivating themes. They were redolent of eloquence. In the hands of Webster, Poinsett and Clay, they were made the topics of a brilliant and glowing declamation. Randolph opposed these resolu- tions. He turned from the poetic side of the question, to its more prosaic aspect. He was the advocate " of a fireside policy" — of the principle of letting foreign nations alone, and not mixing ourselves up with them ; waging no wild crusade for liberty. "• Let us," said he, " adhere to the policy laid down by the second, as well as the first, founder of our Republic — by him who was the Camillus, as well as Romulus of the infant State — to the policy of peace, commerce, and honest friendship with all nations, entangling alliances with none — for to entangling alliances you must come, if you once embark in policy such as this." He concluded : — " For Randolph's opinion of Marshall. 241 myself, I would sooner put the shirt of Nessus on my back than sanction these doctrines — doctrines such as I never heard from my boyhood till now. They go the whole length. If they prevail, there are no longer any Pyrennees ; every bulwark and barrier of the Constitution is broken down." The resolutions were killed off. Next came the question of Internal Improvement. Ran- dolph opposed this measure, as he had opposed all the others, with all his eloquence and vigor of argument. The bill passed, however, by a large majority. Opposed to Marshall, as he was, and had ever been, and especially to some of the doctrines laid down by the Chief Justice in the cases of Gibbons and Ogden^ and Cohen and Virgmia, which were decided about this time, Randolph spoke of him in a very different tone and spirit from those of Jefferson. He said, " No one admires more than I do the extraordinary powers of Marshall's mind ; no one re- spects more his amiable deportment in private life. He is the most unpretending and unassuming of men. His abili- ties and his virtues render him an ornament, not only to Virginia, but to our nature. I cannot, however, help think- ing, that he was too long at the bar before he ascended the bench; and that, like our friend P., he had injured, by the indiscriminate defence of right or wrong, the tone of his per- ception (if you will allow so quaint a phrase) of truth or falsehood." The tariff bill of 1824, came up, and, it is needless to 11 242 JOHN RANDOLPH. say, that Randolph exhausted all of his ability in op- position. He sought relief from sickness and from the cares of public life, by another trip to England. The second impression made by England upon him seems to have been quite as strong as the first. He said : " There never was such a country on the face of the earth as Eng- land ; and it is utterly impossible that there ever can be any combination of circumstances again to make such a country hereafter as Old England is. God bless her ! " He crossed over to France, but he seems not to have been greatly pleased with the French metropolis or people. CHAPTER XII. Presidential Election of 1S24— Election of Adams by the House— Eandolph op- poses the Administration — Elected to U. S. Senate — Proceedings in the Senate to relation to the Panama Mission— President's Message in reply— Eandolph's Speech on the Message — His Expression " The Puritan and the Blackleg "—Duel with Clay— Third visit to Europe — Defeated for the Senate by Tyler— Elected to the House — Opposes the Administration throughout — Advocates Jackson's Election — Retires from Congress — ^Elected to the Virginia Convention to amend the State Constitution — Opposes all Innovations — Mission to Eussia — Eetums Home — Nullification — The Proclamation and Force BiU — Eandolph denounces Jack- son—Sustains South Carolina. The presidential election of 1824 resulted in the return of Crawford, Jaetson, and Adams to the House — no choice having been made by the people. Randolph seemed to have been almost indifferent to the result ; if he had any prefer- ence, it was the barest possible inclination towards Crawford. But when Adams was elected, through the great influence of Clay, then the most influential man in Congress, Ran- dolph immediately took up arms against his administration. Doubtless, personal feeling had a good deal to do with this early opposition. Randolph regarded old John Adams with 244 JOHN RANDOLPH. a cordial and unconquerable aversion. He visited upon the son this hatred. But the younger Adams had aggravat- ed this sentiment by ratting over and carrying information — not too authentic, it was said — to Jefferson, of treason- able designs, on the part of certain Federalists of New England ; and this communication had been used to the disparagement of the anti-war party, of which Randolph was the leader. Randolph's dislike was mixed with contempt. He thought Adams not only a bad man, but a mean man ; and very freely gave expression to this sentiment. Clay he dis- liked. They were old enemies. Clay had been all power- ful. He had carried every thing before him. He had pre- vailed over Randolph in almost every important measure on which they had divided. . He had more general popularity than any man in the Republic ; though running, as he did, against men popular in particular sections, he did not receive as many votes as any of the three opposing him ; yet he was the second choice of nearly all. Had Clay been returned to the House (and he came very near it), the probability is, that he would have been elected President. Clay had committed the astounding blunder of taking office under the administration he had brought into power. That was enough to effect his ruin. Randolph had an op- portunity to pay him off all old scores. Success had spoiled Clay's tactics. He had been the most successful man of his time ; for he attempted more than any other, and succeeded in nearly every thing he attempted. His intrepid and enter- RANDOLPH ELECTED TO U. S. SENATE. 245 prising spirit had carried him successfully over all opposition. He did not look about him, nor pause to weigh the conse- quences of his movements. He accepted the premiership. Suddenly a clamor was raised about his ears, which opened his eyes to the consequences of his position. The demon- strations of popular disapproval were too patent and unmis- takable, not to awaken even Ids sanguine spirit to a conscious- ness of the fatal error he had committed. He saw it too late. He had tasted the forbidden fruit, and the gates of the political paradise were closed on him for ever. Randolph had been elected to the Senate of the United States shortly after the opening of Congress. The President communicated a message to the Senate, on the subject of tho Panama Mission. A motion was made in the Senate for a call upon the President for further information. Some further documents were sent in. Mr. Van Buren offered a re- solution, that the discussion in relation to the Panama Congress, should be with open doors ; and inquiring of the President whether there was any objection to the publi- cation of the documents he had transmitted. Randolph, taking the conservative side, as he usually did, opposed these resolutions ; but they were passed. The President answered the next day, leaving the ques- tion of publication to the Senate, and foolishly insinuating. pretty distinctly, that the motives of the Senate, for this de- parture from usage, were no better than they should have been. Randolph took fire at this message, and let off a speech 246 JOHN RANDOLPH. of great bitterness and intemperance. He concluded his speech with this sentence : " I was defeated, horse, foot and dragoons — cut up, clean broke down by the coalition of Blifil and Black George — by the combination, unheard of till then, of the Puritan with the blackleg." It is difficult to say whether the wit of this diabolical antithesis, or the charge it conveyed and endorsed, was more mischievous to the illustrious victim. The feather was nearly as hurtful as the shaft. Certain it is, that, like the arrow of Cullum Moore, this sarcasm passed through the mark. It was the very thing that was wanted by the oppo- sition. It gave voice to a general suspicion. It authenti- cated a vague and irresponsible charge, and moulded the charge into the shape of current coin, stamped for universal circulation. Clay was already smarting under the charge. He was as proud as Randolph, of as pure and unsoiled honor as any man that ever breathed, and entirely conscious of his innocence. He eagerly resented this cruel attack ; the more, because it came from an old enemy, who ought to have had more magnanimity than to have made it upon him, when he could not reply. He called Randolph to the field. Ran- dolph answered the challenge. The meeting of these remarkable men is suggestive. There stood on the banks of the Potomac, on that bright April evening, as the sun was declining behind the blue hills of Virginia, in the attitude of combatants, two men, around whom gathered, probably, a more stirring interest than around any other two men in the Union ; and yet their DUEL BETWEEN RANDOLPH AND CLAY. 247 political opinions and their personal history were as op- posite as their persons, when they stood in their places. They were alike only in chivalry of bearing, integrity and independence of character, genius and pride. They had to all appearance met now to fight to the death with physical weapons, as they had met so often before, to do battle with the weapons of intellectual warfare. Their opposition had been unceasing. Probably, they had never agreed in one prominent public measure, since they were in public life to- gether. Each looked upon the other as, if not the ablest, at least as the most annoying and dreaded opponent of his political principles and personal aims. They were, in early life, and to some extent, still, representatives of different phases of society. Randolph, born to affluence ; descend- ed from a long and honored line ; commanding all that wealth and family influence can give ; with the best oppor- tunities for education ; accustomed, almost from infancy, to refined and intellectual society ; the representative of the free-holders, and inhaling, with the atmosphere around him, the spirit of caste, which, in his circle, curiously inter- mingled itself, as in the English barons, with a love of freedom ; aristocratic in many of his principles, and still more aristocratic in many of his practices ; and Clay, born in obscurity, of humble parentage — the first man of his family known out of his county — "the mill-boy of the Slashes" — without early opportunities or powerful friends ; rising, at last, to be a deputy-clerk, and rejoicing in the rise ; reading, in the spare hours released from manual toil, the 248 JOHN RANDOLPH. rudiments of the law ; going out into the backwoods of Kentucky, to find a " location" among the hunters and pioneers of that then remote territory, with but faint hopes, even in a breast not prone to despondency ; seemingly un- conscious of the talents and energies he possessed; aspiring to three hundred dollars a year, as the height of his good fortune; taking early a position at an able bar; rising rapidly to the head of it; soon going out into politics; mingling familiarly with the frontier population around him, and identifying himself with their character, habits, pursuits, and feelings ; wrestling with the strong, though sometimes rough, champions for the favor of a vigorous, hard-sensed, patriotic and unsophisticated people ; winning his way by his talents, and by a boldness as necessary as talents ; literally fighting his way up over obstacles of all kinds, and men of all sorts and characters ; first, in the State Legislature — then in the United States Senate — in the House — in the Speaker's chair — and now in the Cabinet ; these were the two men, alike in splendid gifts of intellect, yet so unlike in character and circumstance, who now, weapon in hand, stood opposed in mortal combat. The incidents that marked the meeting were character- istic of the men. Randolph refused to apologize or explain, because he conceived that he, a senator, was not amenable to demand for an explanation of words, spoken in his place, of the conduct of a Cabinet Minister ; yet, with a singular inconsistency, he held himself responsible in the field. He seems to have gone upon the ground determined not to re- DUEL BETWEEN RANDOLPH AND CLAY. 249 turn Clay's fire ; thinking that it was no violation of the anti- duelling laws of Virginia to be shot at, when no attempt was made by him to shoot. Randolph was one of the best pistol shots in the United States. Clay was out of practice ; and the duel had been so arranged by the seconds, in their desire to avoid a fatal result, as to allow no opportunities for prac- tising. TJie word was to be so given out as to force the shots as quickly as possible. "When the mode of giving it was rehearsed to Clay, he requested it to be given with more deliberation, fearing that he should not be able to fire in time. Thinking that Clay's motive in this request, was a purpose to take his life, Randolph changed his intention of not firing, and determined, if he could, to disable, but not to kill his adversary. Randolph's pistol fired accidentally before the word was given, the hair-trigger being set too finely. The shot fell into the ground, a few feet in front of him. This accident was embarrassing. Clay generously relieved the embarrass- ment, by exclaiming that the firing was evidently an accident, and begged that the affair might go on. The first shot missed. Clay afterwards interrupted the efforts to bring the matter to an adjustment, by throwing out his hand in his lofty way, and remarking, " Gentlemen, this is child's play." Clay's next shot cut Randolph's coat near the hip. Ran- dolph fired in the air, remarking to Clay that he did so. Randolph then advanced and was met half way by Clay. The parties shook hands — Randolph telling Clay that he was in debt to him for a coat, and Clay expressing his 11* 250 JOHN RANDOLPH. gratification that he was no deeper in his debt The parties afterwards exchanged cards and civilities. This passage of arms was a brilliant vindication of a nice sensibility to honor, and of a generous and magnanimous spirit. It throws light on the character of Randolph ; for, though wanting in charity to men, and hasty and harsh of judgment, he was far from being cruel or implacable. The session of Congress over, Randolph took his third trip to Europe. In 1826, he was defeated by John Tyler for the Senate, and seems to have borne his defeat without a murmur. When his loved mother withheld her favors, he submitted like a docile child. He never electioneered for office. No one ever held himself more aloof from the position of a men- dicant for place, or shrank, with more instinctive disgust, from the low hucksterings or the under-handed arts of the demagogue. The administration of Adams was in a minority in Con- gress. The majority resolutely opposed its policy and re- commendations, and, up to this time, successfully. Ran- dolph had a leading, if not the leading position in the oppo- sition ; and his policy was full of tact. He was for letting the administration stand still in the middle of the sea, and to suffer it, with the leak it had sprung, slowly, but surely, to settle and sink ; or, as he expressed it, — " Our play is to win the game ; to keep every thing quiet ; to finish the in- dispensable public business and go home." He imported the expression, " masterly inactivity " — first used, we believe. THE VIRGINIA CONVENTION. 251 by Horace Walpole — which has been so much bandied about of late, and applied it to the policy to be pursued against the administration ; which, opposed by various parties, would be strengthened by any definite creed or set of measures, on the part of its heterogeneous opponents. He was not for parrying but for thrusting — for carrying the war into Africa, by a vigorous assailment of those in power ; for he knew full well that a merely defensive position is a losing game, in politics as well as in war. Eandolph was returned by his old constituents to the House. The same policy was pursued. Gen. Jackson be- came the candidate of the opposition. It was foreseen by all men that the old dynasty was going out. The election re- sulted in favor of the hero. Randolph retired from Congress. For the last two or three years, his health became even worse than before. His constitution was a wreck. His mind had lost much of its strength and coherence. His speeches had deteriorated. They had become more rambling, desultory, disjointed, eccentric, extravagant. There were still vivid, lightning-like flashes — still passages of rare wit and beauty, lovely spots of sentiment, and bold original views ; but they were often deformed by coarse vituperation, and weakened by repetitions and prolixity. He was incapa- ble of the sustained power and elasticity, which distinguish- ed him in better days. The Virginia convention to form a state constitution met in 1829, and he was a member. He attracted general and eager attention. He was the cynosure of all eyes. In the 252 JOHN RANDOLPH. assembly which brought together all the talent of the State — the Ex-Presidents, the Chief Justice of the United States, the names already become national — names then just rising into prominence — the first inquiry of the stranger was for Ran- dolph of Roanoke. Shrivelled to a skeleton, huddled to- gether in his solitary seat^ the old veteran sat apart from the busy throng, watching with his keen, sarcastic glance, the progress of the proceedings, or moodily absorbed in his own gloomy reveries. He had dragged his shattered frame, with no pleasant feelings, into that assemblage. He had come, in the spirit of a pious duty, to the old commonwealth to which alone he professed to owe allegiance. He had come to ward off, if he could, the blow which threatened the destruction of the Old Constitution, under which he had grown up, and which was the representative of all in the past, that was glorious and honorable of the land of his fa- thers. The attempt to despoil her of the charter, under which she had marched out to conquer her freedom, and under which her great men had been nurtured, inspired him with something of the fire of his fresher years. The olden day, to which he was so prone to refer, when Patrick Henry, and George Mason, and the Randolphs and the Lees held sway over the fortunes of the state ; when the old families flourished ; when the gentry gave law to the state, and the state to the confederacy, came back to his memory. He had always declaimed upon the degeneracy of the times ; but he never even contemplated such degeneracy as the surrender of the state, to what he denominated, a rabble rout MINISTER TO RUSSIA. 253 of non-freeholders ; committing the honor and property of Virginia to the keeping of its poverty, improvidence and ignorance. He opposed all changes. Failing in that, he sought to limit as much as possible the alterations proposed, — to retain as much as possible of the spirit and conservatism of the old constitution. His speeches were the most inter- esting, and, probably, not the least effective, that were made in that august assembly. And now, these labors over, and the new administration installed, an autograph letter from Gen. Jackson, couched in terms the most flattering and respectful, came to him, ten- dering him the post of Minister to Russia. And, alas ! poor old man ! — with the example of Clay, too, before him ! — he accepted it! — accepted it, when, daily, he spoke of death as an expectant and not dreaded guest ; when, nightly, the sweat of a fast-progressing disease was on his brow ; when his mind was alternately flashing out in light and sink- ing back into darkness ; when an Arctic winter was the cli- mate to which the consumptive southerner was invited ; when a strange people were to be the company for him, who could scarcely endure with patience the presence of a countryman ; when patient diplomacy was to be the business for one who could not always restrain himself, even on ordinary occa- sions, from fitful bursts of vehement anger ; when the forms and etiquette of a court were to be the clogs and fetters of the proud Republican, who had never known self-denial or opposition to his own whims, and whom no restraints of opinion could keep from breaking out into startling eccen- 254 JOHN RANDOLPH. tricities ; and when, emaciated to a skeleton, the exhibition of his person must have caused to his acute sensitiveness the keenest mortification. But this was not all. He was physically unfit for the duties of the post ; and the office was to be almost a sinecure. He was now in the pay of the Federal government — a placeman — a " mercenary " — Ran- dolph of Roanoke — like the rest ! He had never known before any service, as he never acknowledged any fealty, to any other sovereign, than the Commonwealth of Virginia. He now put on and wore the Federal badge. He had scourged, with whips of scorpions, the placemen — the flun- keys — the parvenus — the hirelings of Federal power — and all office-holders were such to him. He had won his influence AS THE GREAT Champion OF THE States, by ucver taking pay, or holding office, from the Federal Government. In one of his beautiful speeches, he said : '•' I will go back to the bosom of my constituents — to such constituents as man never had before, and never will have again, and I shall re- ceive from them the only reward that I ever looked for, but the highest that man can receive — the universal expression of their approbation — of their thanks. I shall read it in their beaming faces ; 1 shall feel it in their gratulating hands. Their very children will climb around my knees, to welcome me. And shall I give up them and this ? — and for what ? For the heartless amusements and vapid pleasures of this abode of splendid misery, of shabby splendor ?— for a clerk- ship in the war office, or a foreign mission, to dance attend- ance abroad, instead of at home, or even for a department /^ DENOUNCES THE PROCLAMATION. 255 itself? " He did desert them for this ill-fated mission. He closed the career of the Great Commoner, with the diplo- matic ribbon fluttering from his Button-hole. He went out — did nothing — pocketed out-fit, in-fit, and salary, and came home to hear the shouts of derision, with which the old Federalists and the National Republicans were filling the air ! As might have been expected, the climate of Russia ag- gravated his disease, and precipitated its fatal termination. He became addicted to opium, and it contributed to those aberrations of mind, which now became more frequent and protracted than ever, A year passed, and a new question agitated the land. The tariff of 1828 had been succeeded by that of 1832; and South Carolina prepared to resist. Randolph was in com- munication with the South Carolina leaders, and went with them in their course of opposition. That gallant State at last raised the banner of forcible resistance — for such it was. She passed her celebrated ordinance. Gen. Jackson issued his famous Proclamation. Randolph was, as he expressed it, " a Jackson man " up to this time. But he was so no long- er. He was aroused to fury by this bold proceeding. True to his old principles, he could neither be purchased by grati- tude for the past, nor by expectations for the future. He took the field against this measure. Too weak to stand, he took his seat on the hustings, and delivered to his constit- uents, at every court-house in the district, speeches against this Federal measure. He saw now what he had done. He 256 JOHN RANDOLPH. had raised up a man, destined to exert a stronger influence against his doctrines, than all the Presidents in the Union put together. In the name of State-Rights, in order to break down Adams and Clay, he had contributed to bring Jackson into power ; and now, from liim came the Proclamation, which ignored all the sanctions of State-Rights ; which asserted the unqualified dominion of the Federal Government over the States, their laws and ordinances ; and which shook the halter in the face of the sons of a State, who dared to act in obedience to the State authorities, in opposition to the Federal laws. No wonder Randolph raved. No wonder he spoke of buckling himself to his horse Radical, and plunging into the fight. Nor did these doctrines only appear on the face of the paper. There were, also, the warning and the threat. There were the obedient majorities in Congress. There were the Force bills ; the soldiers under arms ; the navy, waiting the orders to sail for the blockaded port ; and not a single state to help South Carolina in her danger ; and even she divided against herself Worse than all, behind the Proclamation and the threat, stood the iroij man, who knew no fear and no relenting, as immovable as a mountain, and as inexorable as death ; and all around him, in the North, South, East, and West,, were thousands of the friends of this great chief and most of his opponents, shouting out their applause of his proceeding and his doctrine. Ran- dolph's keen eye saw at once the position of things : " If,'- (said he), " Madison filled the Executive chair, he might be HENRY CLAY. 257 bullied into some compromise. If Monroe was in power, he might be coaxed into some adjustment. But Jackson is obstinate, head -strong and fond of fight. I fear matters must come to an open rupture. If so, the Union is gone." He spoke of the Proclamation as the ferocious and blood- thirsty proclamation of our Djezzar Pacha. He added : " There is one man and only one, who can save this Union ; that man is Henry Clay. He has the power, and, I believe, he will be found to have the requisite patriotism and firmness." — "What a commentary upon the sagacity of statesmen ! Henry Clay, to put down whose " wild federalism " on some small police measures in the comparison. Gen. Jackson was elected, now appealed to to save the country from that degree of Federalism, which pro- posed to crush out the life of a State beneath the feet of a Federal army ! Randolph was not mistaken. Gen. Jackson was as firm as a rock. He was not a compromising man. He proposed nothing but unconditional submission to Federal law, or the halter or the bayonet. This was all he had to say. Clay stepped forward, seized his own cherished oflFspring, and threw it in the breach to save his country, as Curtius threw himself and his horse into the yawning chasm in the streets of Rome. And thus the political history of Randolph closed. It terminated where it began, in a contest for State-Rights. It began, by lifting his lance against Patrick Henry, and it ended, by turning its point against Andrew Jackson ! CHAPTEE XIII. Randolph as a Statesman— Tho Leader of the State-Eights Party— Contrast be tween his Policy and Clay's — His Consistent and Heroic Devotion to his Prrn clples. We have signally failed, in the impeffect review we have given of the political career of John Randolph, if we have not shown him to have been something more than an eccen- tric orator and brilliant wit. We think that he was one of the most consistent statesmen the Republic has ever produ- ced ; and that he is to be regarded as the great leader and champion of the State-Rights party. The merit is his, if it be a merit, of governing his whole policy by the rudimental principles of State-Rights, as those principles were pro- pounded on the organization of the party. He opposed nearly every measure — from whatsoever administration or man proceeding — in conflict with those principles. Their friends were his friends, their enemies his enemies. Witness his opposition to the Embargo, to the entire system restric- tive of commerce, to the war with England, to all offensive war, to the Banks, the Tariff, Internal Improvements, the Randolph's policy. 259 Missouri Restrictions, qualified by the compromise or un- qualified, to all foreign alliances or affiliations, to the Panama Mission, with its ulterior objects, to the Proclamation and the Force Bill ; and his vehement support of all the affirma- tive doctrines and measures of State-Rights policy. Who else can show so clean a record ? The answer is — not one ! He went further. He was for the most abstemious possible exercise of power compatible with the carrying on of govern- ment, even when such power was unquestionably within the pale of the constitutional grants. He sought to restrict the governmental machine to its simplest and most indispensable workings. But, it is asked, where are his monuments ? Upon what great measure of civil polity can his friends lay their hands and say, "This is Randolph's work?" None, we admit. But, then, it must be remembered, that his policy was the policy of quiet, healthy growth, and governmental nonaction. He might, if he now lived, point to the heaps of rubbish, the ruins of systems he had torn down, but he could not point to any thing he had built up ; for his policy was negative and simply protective, not positive and erective. His po- licy was to protect the rights of the citizen, and thus to stim- ulate him to work out for himself and the state the high- est results of civilization. A contrast between his policy and Clay's illustrates the former. Clay thought the General Government a vast and mighty agency, which, made vital by the will of a free and energetic people, could accomplish, by its affirmative action, 260 JOHN RANDOLPH. signal blessings to his country and the world. He desired to build up a mighty nation, whose power should be felt and acknowledged throughout the world. The American System was, through a National Bank, to afford a national currency, and to facilitate the transactions of commerce ; Internal Im- provements were to be the ties of a close commercial com- munion and personal correspondence between the different sections, and to bind the States together with bands of iron ; the Tariff was to make us independent of foreign nations for the munitions of war and the comforts of life, and to build up vast storehouses of wealth for the country ; the naviga- tion laws were to foster an independent marine ; the Panama mission to place us at the head of the continent, controlling and drawing its trade, and governing its policy ; the public lands were to give to the States the means of improving their communications and educating their people ; and a navy and army were to protect our commerce on the ocean, and command the respect of foreign powers. He boasted that he was an American Citizen, and was proud of the title, knowing no north, no south, no east, no west. Ran- dolph, on the other hand, claimed to be a Virginian, owing his primary and only allegiance to that venerable Common- wealth, and acknowledging the Federal Government but as a limited agency, which she, with others, had established; for a few simple purposes. His doctrine was that that govern- ment was to be watched with jealousy ; that it had an in- herent proclivity to enlarge powers originally too strong; which enlargement would lead to the greatest possible Randolph's consistency, 261 evil, consolidation ; for he regarded that as the worst species of foreign domination. Such were the different views of these great leaders. We think that Randolph was not only a consistent statesman, but a great man. He possessed the indispensa- ble elements of greatness — will and constancy. No man had these high faculties in greater degree. Bruce, Hannibal, and Caesar, were scarcely his superiors in this respect. His admiration of Patrick Henry and his confidence in him, were stronger than he felt for any other man ; yet, when Henry supported the doctrines of the Federal party, he stood firm — nay, the first speech he ever made was to the crowd, yet thrilling with the eloquence of Henry. He was an ardent supporter, a personal friend, a blood-relative of Jefferson. When Jefferson abandoned — as he thought — his princi- ples, Randolph stood fast. When Madison took the same policy, Randolph kept his place. When Monroe went the same way, he remained unmoved. When the whole Repub- lican party deserted them, their desertion but quickened his zeal and strengthened his steadfastness. When the whole country rose up to second the leaders in their aberrations, Randolph was found firmly planted in his old position. When even his native State went over, he still lingered by the flag. His constituents rose against him, but they did not move him from his purpose. When Gen. Jackson, whom, more than any other man, he had contributed to bring into power, and who had rewarded him with oflQce, turned upon State-Rights, he turned upon kirn the last 262 JOHN RANDOLPH. energies of mind and soul left him, with the fury of a tigress, robbed of her whelps. He was, in 1806, the most rising man of his age, in the Republic. He had only to lie still upon the Republican wave, and be wafted into the highest places of the government. He saw the principles he had professed assailed by his friends, and he hesitated not a moment to oppose those friends, to the certain destruction of all his hopes. Nor did he oppose assaults upon State-Rights in a halting, compromising, hesitating spirit ; holding open the door of conciliation, while he uttered his defence of his principles. No ! he threw away the scabbard when he drew the sword, and defied all extremes of hostility, while he waged a warfare without mercy and without quarter. Let it be remembered, too, that this warfare was not a single cam- paign ; it was not against a single enemy or dynasty ; it was the protracted warfare of a whole life — against every single administration, from the first to the last, that assailed his cherished doctrines; and this hostility continued as long as he could lift a lance, or utter a war-cry. No man had more individuality. He thought and acted for himself He was afraid to meet no man. He never hesi- tated, not only to oppose measures, but to oppose men, not of the opposite party only, but of his own. His moral courage was equal to Luther's. Whatever danger, personal or political, to him or his fortunes, or his principles, was in the way, he fearlessly met. No 'combination could daunt him. No association of venal interests could inspire him with awe. Whatever he chose to say, whomsoever it might HIS MORAL HEROISM. 263 affect, he said it, and said it in the plainest English, and with the most cutting emphasis. He could neither be intimidated by his fears, nor bribed by his interests, nor, what is more common, seduced by his virtues. No friend- ship or sense of kindness could secure the perpetrator of an act of political or moral delinquency from his exposure. No personal or political obligation — if he ever acknowledged such — could make him blink, or waive, or deny a duty. He was a man of a scrupulous and religious veracity in word, act, and thought. Self-love, strong as it was, did not blind him to the truth ; for he was as harsh a judge of himself as of others. The light of an ardent and dazzling imagination did not hide the cold, common-place, naked truth from his eyes. His allegiance to truth was marvellous. He did not hesitate to announce sentiments so unpopular, truths so unac- ceptable, so revolting to the multitude, that men of ordinary boldness would shrink with terror, from fear of being compro- mised by listening to them. He had no arts of concealment. He could not restrain his sense of disgust of men, or his con- tempt of them in their presence. If sometimes — pity that it was so — he was unduly harsh to humble men, he was free from the meanness of seeking to conciliate the powerful and the great. If history gives us any knowledge of any other public man so true and loyal to an idea, as this man was, we do not know the volume in which it is written. He was con- stant, throughout his long and troubled life, to this leading principle. Other men deserted it, others forgot it, others 264 JOHN RANDOLPH. deviated, and, after a while, came back, others were convert- ed to it ; but, amid all fluctuations and backslidings — through evil and through good report — in adversity and in prosperity — through all changes of dynasty — alone or in whatever associations, " Among the faithless, faithful only he." He stood, like a light-house, solitary and alone, on the bleak coast ; and, amidst the darkness, and the storm, and the whelming waves, with an unrewarded and self-wasting fidelity, he gave out ever the twinkling light that warned the heed- less ship of state from the breakers and the lee shore of Federalism. He preached State-Rights, as if his life had been conse- crated to the ministry of those doctrines. Whenever he spoke — whatever he wrote — wherever he went — State-Rights^ State-Rights — State-Rights were the exhaustless themes of his discourse. Like Xavier, with his bell ringing before him, as he walked amidst strange cities, addressing the startled attention of the wayfarers, with the messages of salvation, and denouncing the coming wrath ; Randolph came among men, the untiring apostle of his creed, ever raising his shrill voice, " against the alarming encroachments of the Federal Government." Nor was he without his reward. The distinctive doc- trines of his school, in their fundamental and primitive purity, were well-nigh lost, after the era of the fusion of parties in Monroe's, if not, indeed, under the "silken Mansfieldism" of Madison's administration. The old knights and cavaliers HIS INFLUENCE. 265 of the South were living, indeed, but were torpid ; like — as we have somewhere seen it quoted — the knightly horsemen in the Enchanted Cave, seated on their steeds with lances in rest and warlike port, but rider and horse spell-bound and senseless as marble, until the magician blew his horn, when, at the first blast, they quickened into life, and sprang forth again to deeds of chivalrous emprize ; so Randolph's clarion tones waked the leaders of his party to battle for the cause of their order. But suppose he had no reward ? Suppose all this labor and all this life were poured, like water, in the sand ? Sup- pose he had followed, always, a losing banner ? What then ? Are we wasting ink and paper in recording the annals of such a warfare — the story of such a man ? Are martyrs so common — is heroic constancy so frequent, and devotion to principle and love of truth such vulgar things, in this our 3ge of political purity and sainted statesmanship, that a man, consecrating the noblest faculties to the service of his coun- try, and following no meaner lights than the judgment and conscience God gave him, to guide his steps through a long road of trial and temptation, is unworthy of being held up for admiration and reverence ? 12 CHAPTER XIV. Eandolph's Character and Death. The cliaracter of this remarkable man is a subject of vari- ous and contradictory speculation, and it may seem presump- tuous to attempt any thing like a satisfactory analysis of it. He has had the misfortune which attaches to most men of fertile wit and brilliant powers. Men seem unwilling to accord multiplicity of gifts to any man. The same depre- ciating incredulity, which " shook its head at Murray for a witj" and which made Elizabeth pronounce Bacon a man of parts, " but not deep in law," has denied to Randolph, because of his showy qualities, the possession of stronger and higher powers. But, we think, that this judgment is par- tial and unjust. True, he had a most extraordinary endow- ment of wit and the lighter graces. He was, beyond all comparison, the wittiest man of his time. He overflowed with wit. He wasted more wit than men, characteristically witty, give out. Sheridan had not the same ease and flow of wit ; the same tropical luxuriance of fancy ; the same HIS GIFTS AND ATTAINMENTS. '267 spontaneity, aptness and raciness. Randolph's wit was much more than humor. It was a refined, wire-edged and dia- mond-pointed COMMON SENSE ; a sharp and shrewd sagacity, which, while it had the edge of sarcasm, had, also, the force of argument. Randolph had the rare faculty of interpreting for the crowd ; of translating, in better and apter language, the thoughts passing in the mind of the hearer ; who was delighted to find that Randolph was only thinking Jiis thoughts. His verbal aptness was astonishing. When any thing was to be characterized by an epithet, he, at once, characterized it, by a word or phrase so striking and pat, that it created the surprise and the pleasure which are the most marked efi"ects of wit. He had the same aptness of quotation. No man made the resources of others more sub- servient to his own purposes. He did not merely appropri- ate. He gave a new value to the quoted sentence. There was as much genius in the selection and application, as in the conception and expression of the idea. . His ingenuity was very great. He had the faculty of seeing remote analo- gies and correspondences ; and of accumulating around a dry, isolated, and uninviting topic, a multitude of images, facts, suggestions and illustrations. His memory was upon the same scale. It was comprehensive and retentive, taking in the whole superficies of the subject, and the minutest details. His information extended to a large variety of subjects. In polite learning, especially in the standard works of English literature, he was accomplished beyond most of the literati of his country ; and his taste and appreciation of the latent 268 JOHN RANDOLPH. and patent beauties and excellencies of the great classics were unsurpassed. Had he turned his attention to litera- ture, as a pursuit, it is not going too far to say, that he would have enriched, not merely American literature, but the English tongue, with some of the rarest contributions made in his day, by genius to letters. He mastered history with like ease. He was supposed to have a more minute and accurate knowledge of geography than any man of his country ; and he even committed the book of Heraldry of England to memory, and could repeat the annals of the no- ble houses of that kingdom, in their details. But, most largely developed of all his faculties, probably, was his quick, clear, and deep comprehension. His finely-toned and penetrative intellect possessed an acumen, a perspicuity which was as quick and vivid as lightning. His conclusions did not wait upon long and labored inductions. His mind, as by an instinctive insight, darted at once upon the core of the subject, and sprang, with an electric leap, upon the conclu- sion. He started where most reasoners end. It is a mis- take to suppose that he was deficient in argumentative pow- er. He was as fertile of argumentation as most speakers; he was only deficient in argumentative forms. His state- ments were so clear, so simplified and so vivid, that they saved him much of the necessity of laborious processes of ratiocination. Much that looked like declamation was only illustration, or another form of argument. He was too prodigal of illustrations ; and sometimes his love of verbal felicities, of exquisite niceties, and artistical finish of expres- Ills TEMPERAMENT. 269 sion, led him into repetitions of what he had well enough said before. He usually spoke without preparation ; and his speeches depended much upon the state of his nervous system. He was, therefore, an unequal speaker ; sometimes speaking with great felicity, and sometimes with diminished power ; but seldom or never dull or uninteresting, though often erratic, eccentric and diffuse. His vanity was not excessive. " He was too proud to be vain." He boasted that he scorned every thing merely " popular and eleemosynary." His ear did not itch for general applause ; though he was solicitous of the approbation of men he loved and esteemed. His eccentricities proceeded, in a great measure, from the vehemence of his faculties and passions ; from his disregard of the general opinion, and from the isolation of his habits and character. He had the advantage and the disadvantage of a want of caution ; the ad- vantage which an uncramped and unstinted individuality, and the freest use of his powers give ^ speaker, and the dis- advantage of being betrayed into extravagance, and unten- able positions, and needless offences against the opinions and tastes of his auditors. To the account of his bodily infirmities, must be placed much of the acerbity and excesses of his temper. He was seldom in good health. His nervous system was extremely irritable. His disease was peculiarly annoying to the tem- per. So delicately-toned were his fibres and nerves, that he complained that he was " like a man without a skin." An 270 JOHN RANDOLPH. east wind caused him the greatest uneasiness. He was a hypochondriac. His tastes were fastidious. He was easily disgusted with things inharmonious with his habits or mental condition. He was eminently unsocial, proud, reserved, un- communicative. He could endure no associations that were unconcrenial. He had no faculty of assimilation or adaptation. His firmness and self-esteem gave him such individuality, that he could not seem to be, or to act, except in subordination to his ruling qualities ; which were inflexible laws to him. It was unfortunate for him, that his whole education fostered these characteristics. He was brought up in the lap of in- dulgence. He had never known self-denial. He was a spoiled boy. Left to himself early, he became " Lord of himself, that heritage of woe." He had wealth, attention, adulation, the means of self-indulgence, to come in aid of a temper naturally proud, self-willed and domineering. He was vindictive. He acknowledged and deplored it often. But he was neither implacable nor habitually cruel, nor un- just to his enemies. The spectacle of pain unmanned him ; and it frequently turned him, in a moment, from rage to pity and remorse. His sentiments were naturally just, and he was occasionally capable of acts of magnanimity. The want of charity was his greatest defect. He had never learned to regard man as a brother. He had never considered himself as parcel of a general humanity. He was frequently neglect- ful, and sometimes indifferent to the feelings of others ; at other times harsh and cruel ; but, in many of these instances, his wilfulness or his impulses betrayed him into these acts, HIS UNHAPPINESS. 271 without his being conscious — so free was he from sympa- thy with other men — of the pain he was inflicting. "We think that he was an honest and conscientious man. The general tone of his mind was pure and elevated. He had a large sense of reverence, and an exquisite sense of the beautiful and good. He defended and supported his positions upon high moral grounds. He seldom or never pandered to the groundling and vile prejudices or passions of the mob. In some instances, he showed a morbid conscienciousness ; for example, in the treatment of his slaves. His affections, though not diffusive, were constant and vehement. For his friends, no man felt a livelier or deeper interest. He concentrated upon them the love due to the race. He seems, as a consequence of his isolation, to have personified his State-Kights principles and his native state ; and he lavished upon them the devotion he extended to his few bosom friends. "We have omitted in our review, much of the private history of this extraordinary personage, especially a notice of the voluminous later correspondence illustrating the inner life of Randolph. His letters breathe the dreariest, dis- malest state of feeling, of which any account is given in story. The darkness is cimmerian ; the gloom and despair nearly those of the pit, over whose gates is inscribed : " There is no hope within." His life seemed a long sigh of hopeless pain — a long groan of intolerable agony. Sometimes he was insane. At other times, so miserable and dependent that 272 JOHN RANDOLPH. insanity itself — the evil next to death, if not a greater evil — was scarcely a thing to be dreaded. Who shall place to his account the deeds he did when in this state ? Who does not regard him, even when consider- ing his most harsh and unfeeling acts, as a man more to he pitied than blamed? and think that a harsher judgment would be imitating his own want of charity for an erring man, without his apology to plead for the imitation ? The solitude he courted was his worst enemy. The brooding mind preyed upon itself; and the bright intellect, like polished steel, was consumed by its own rust. He de- rived pleasure mostly from the exercise of his brilliant and active intellect ; and from the most agreeable of these exercises — the social — he cut himself oflF by his hermit-like seclusion. Solitude, so necessary, at times, to ripen genius, and freshen and purify it for its loftiest efforts, but fostered his selfishness, and deepened his gloom, by his habit of brooding over his physical and mental maladies. The causes of his unhappiness are patent enough. Apart from his other diseases, he was hypochondriacal, sometimes even to hysteria. Hypochondriacism is itself a dreadful disease, or, at least, the consequence of it. External cir- cumstances, some of which we have noticed, had much to do with his unhappiness. He may be considered, too, during most of his life, an unsuccessful man. His political life was a series of failures, relieved, here and there, by an occasional success. He saw other men of less talent rising far above him in place and fortune. But the most effective cause of HIS UNGOVERNABLE TEMPER. 273 his unhappiaess, be has given himself. It was " his un- governable temper." His fierce passions had destroyed the balance of his character. Vindictiveness is more of a scourge to its possessor than to his enemy. There can be no peace of mind — without which there can be no happiness — where the heart is in perpetual warfare. He had brought down on himself a host of enemies. He never made a speech that he did not make more enemies than converts. The diabolical keenness o^ his wit planted wounds, for which he was never forgiven. He was as sensitive to pain as he was prompt to inflict it ; and he felt in turn the sufi'ering he caused. If he cut at his antagonists with a bold and trench- ant blade, he received quite as many and as sharp blows as he dealt. He was no doubt, too, often called to suffer the retribution, which his conscience inflicted upon him, for wronf and injury, done often in the heat and impulse — for he was greatly governed by his impulses — of momentary excitement. He was not incapable, like some other politicians, of doing justice to his political enemies. Of Marshall, Hamilton, Rufus King, in some degree of Clay, Calhoun, Webster, even Jefferson and Madison, he spoke in later life, in terms, if not, as to all of them, of justice, yet in a spirit far from acrimonious ; and even in language, evincive of at least a partial conquest of truth and charity over previous preju- dice and ill-blood. But it must not be forgotten, that, if disposed to be a bitter and harsh foe, he was an open one ; not condescending to underhanded detraction ; making no affectation of friend- 12* 2/4 JOHN RAXDOLPH. ship, when he did not feel it, and saying the most publicly the most bitter things. This harshness, pride, uneharitableness, and want of magnanimity, and of a pervading love for his race, are, cer- tainly, great draw-backs from the fame of a statesman. But we must take greatness as we find it. Bedded in humanity, it comes to us, more or less, in association with human frailty. We may regret — but we cannot wholly condemn him for the defect — that the incorruptible truth and stern virtue of Cato were not associated with the clemency, generosity, and flowing afifability of Cassar ; and that, to the constancy and intrepidity of Randolph, were not allied the suavity and gentleness of manners, which had made these sterner attributes to be loved as well as admired. But few words remain to be added. The disease which had struggled so long for mastery with the unyielding, but seemingly so fragile form, was now making sure of its prey. It had been greatly aggravated by his sojourn in Russia ; and now the pallid cheek and feeble frame, the tottering gait, and the seal of decay and weakness in the shrivelled and languid face, gave token that the power of resistance to its inroads was nearly gone. Another visit to England was concluded upon, as the last hope of relief. He sat out on his last journey. He reached Washington, and dragged his emaciated body, with difficulty, into the Senate-Chamber. Sinking with feebleness and the exhaustion of the effort, he caught the sound of Clay's voice, as the latter was address- ing the chair. He asked " to be held up, that he might 1 firs DEATH AND BURIAL. 275 listen to that voice again." Clay turned, and saw him. Moved by his haggard look, with the death-warrant in his face, the magnanimous Kentuckian approached his old rival and foe. The interview was touching. All the past was forgotten, and the greetings of the illustrious commoners were kind and tender. They parted in peace and good will, never to meet again upon earth. Randolph, in June, 1833, reached Philadelphia, whither he went to take passage from that port. He was too late for the Liverpool packet. He exposed himself to the inclemency of the weather, took cold, which aggravated his disease, and hastened its fatal termination. He was put to bed — his death-bed — in his lodgings, at the City Hotel The idiosyncracies which had, of late years espe- cially, marked his demeanor, distinguished the last hours of his life. The sudden bursts of petulance which disease wrung from him ; the affecting kindness_ and tenderness which disease could not wholly take from him ; the rambling conversation in the intervals of acute suffering, in some pas- sages, as brilliant as ever — the last gleams of the sinking lamp ; the groanings of remorse, which a review of his past life, at the bar of a stern self-judgment, drew from his con- trite heart; the fervid prayer; the hesitating hope; the trust, qualified by self-condemnation, in the Saviour, whose name he professed ; the concluding act, ere the curtain fell upon the last scene of earth, when, propped up by pil- lows, he called witnesses to his confirmation of his will, pro- viding for the freedom and support of his slaves, and the 276 JOHN RANDOLPH. last conscious words, which fired his eye and braced his sinking frame, as, speaking in this connection, he laid his skel- eton hand strongly upon the shoulder of his faithful servant, John, and said with emphasis — " especially for this man." And then — this last charge upon his conscience off — his mind wandered away to the light, and the scenes, and the friends of the Early Day ; and, the mutterings of the voice growing gradually fainter, as he passed on into the thicker shadows of the Dark Valley, the fluttering pulse stood still, and John Randolph of Eoanoke was numbered with the dead ! They carried him back to his solitary home, and buried him — in death as in life, unsocial and isolated — in the forest of Roanoke. In the soil of the Virginia he loved so well, they laid the corse of her faithful and devoted son. They left him to rest, after the long fever of his troubled dream of life was over, in a humble and sequestered grave, beneath two stately pines. There let him sleep on ! The gloom of their shade, and the melancholy sighing of the wind through their boughs, are fit emblems of the life which was breathed out in sadness and in sorrow. MDREW JACKSON AND HENRY CLAY CHAPTER I. Party Strife from 1835 to '45— Party Spirit— Jackson and Clay— Points of Eescm- blance— A New Country— Jackson— His Character, Public and Private— As a General— As a Party Leader— Adams'sElection— Clay's Blunders. The mists of prejudice, whieli enveloped the prominent actors in the party-struggle, commencing in 1835, and raging for ten years, with almost unabated fury, are fast disappearing from the land. European tourists and statesmen have ex- pressed their surprise, that questions of such little moment, as existed between the Whig and Democratic parties, should have so agitated the public mind, and so widely and bitterly divided the American people. It must be confessed that in Europe, parties are formed upon a wider base. Politics in Europe involve, for the most part, to a greater or less de- gree, the foreign as well as the domestic relations of the nation ; and the interests, not to say the fate, of other coun- tries or dynasties. And even when the policy is more local in its character, it often involves more radical principles — the organism rather than the mode of administering a gov- ernment, upon a commonly recognized basis or ground-work. 278 JACKSON AND CLAY. We have the inestimable blessings of a written constitu- tion and of a republican system. We have the leading principles of government limited and defined. We are all Republicans. The rights of all freemen and the rights of all the States are equal. The powers of the Federal Grovern- ment, and those of the State Governments, are marked out with such precision, that it is almost impossible to make such mistake as will vitally affect the scheme of their re- spective constitutions. When we look back upon the fierce struggles through which the nation has passed, and recall the exaggerated de- clamation, the ferocious criminations, the bustling activities and the pervasive organization of party, we feel inclined to smile as we reflect that all this machinery and excitement were occasioned by a contest about a bank, a tariff, a distri- bution of proceeds of public property, and the like measures of police. At least these were the avowed principles. But it may be doubted if they were the real source of the party excitement. The zeal and violence of parties are not always measured by the magnitude of the principles or measures in- volved. When matters are trivial, they are magnified by the politicians, and are received by the people, in that exaggerated form. The feeling of partisanship seems natural to man. The two main elements of it are sympathy and combativeness. After taking sides, the selfish and social passions are aroused, and grow warmer as the conflict goes on, until, in due time, the excitement spends its force, and first repose, and after- PAPi-TY CONTESTS IN AMERICA. 279 trards re-action ensue. Organization is itself a powerful fo menter of zeal and violence ; agitation grows epidemic ; mind acts on mind ; and, as in a mob, by a sort of contagious ex- citement and a division of responsibility, men think and do, when aggregated, what each one singly would be ashamed of, or shrink from, as weak or wicked. The most ignorant are the most prone to this passion. They go into a political struggle, as they take sides in a muster fight. They are drawn by clamor, like bees, as by an instinct. They cannot help it. They love the excitement. It gives employment to all their passions. It swells their importance. It gives them a sense of power. Tkey are flattered by the leaders. They find employment in promo- ting the common enterprise. They become identified with it. A sort of free-masonry of feeling and affiliation grows up between the members. The jealousies and strifes of rivalry and opposition, party and individual, tend to wed them more closely to their own, and to separate them from the opposite party and its members. Politics are the safety-valves that let off the discontent, and the surplus energies of our people. What the theatre is to the French, or the bull-fight or fandango to the Span- iard, the hustings and the ballot-box are to our people. "We are all politicians, men, women and children ; and, therefore, it is not surprising, that we should all be terribly excited on the eve of an election, even when the issues are not impor- tant. It does not cost us any thing to be excited, as it does other countries. We like the fun of it. There is no dan- 280 JACKSON AND CLAY ger in it ; for the steam being uneonfined, the fiercest explo-* sions of wrath are only the bursting of rockets in the upper air. In the Whig and Democratic struggle it may well be doubted, whether the personal question were not the substan- tive one — the who rather than the what^ the 911671 rather than the tneasures. "We do not speak in condemnation of parties, nor is it worth while to say any thing in animadversion of the undue excitement of party spirit. We must take the evil with the good. But while the principles which have divided parties are doubtless important, it is simply ridiculous to at- tribute to them, either in their immediate or remote effects, in their causes or their results, or in the mode in which they were carried or prevented, the degree of importance attached to them by partisans. The country could have gone on under either scheme, and the difference in its condition would scarcely have been noticed. Apart from, and rising above mere party questions, doubtless, were others in which the great men whose names head this article were conspicuously concerned, and which were well worthy of all the efforts made in their behalf. Such were the questions of the war with Great Britain, and the three compromises of 1820, 1832 and 1850, in all of which Clay was a prominent actor. Compared with these in importance, those questions which were peculiar to the respective party creeds (the Texas an- nexation question, in its principles and its ultimate effects, perhaps, excepted) were of little moment ; the main and characteristic principles of republican government being POINTS OF RESEMBLANCE. 281 equally conceded by both, and equally the basis of Whig and Democratic organization and profession. But it was through these questions, and through this or- ganization, that the characters of Jackson and Clay were im- pressed upon the country, and their weight and influence, in the formation of opinion, felt by the age in which they lived. That Jackson and Clay were great men, especially in that sense which defines greatness to be the power to control men and mould opinion or action, will not be denied ; the degree of this greatness, absolute and relative, may be. There were many points of similitude between these illus- trious antagonists. As party men, they seemed to stand in irreconcilable antagonism. They were so in interest, in posi- tion, in feeling. Yet, with all this opposition, there was a striking correspondence between them, not only in charac- ter, but in many points of exterior resemblance. Both were born, or received their earliest impressions, in Revolutionary times, or from the principles of the Revo- lution. Jackson was the elder. But the spirit and genius of the Revolution, outlasting the period of actual hostilities, was equally the inspiration of Clay's awakening and fervid mind. Both were denied the advantages of education. Both made a new country the theatre of their earliest exertions. Both were natives of the South, and emigrated to a new Southern state, with a population like that of the state of their birth. Both were dependent alone upon their ovnti ox- 282 JACKSON AND CLAY. ertlons, and equally independent of adventitious aid. Both were the architects of their own fortunes. Both chose the profession of the law as their first introduction to the pub- lic ; and both, though in unequal degree, encountered the same opposition, and met with early success. Both dis- played from the start the same enterprising spirit, the same obduracy and vehemence of will, the same almost arrogant defiance of opposition, the same tenacity and continuity of purpose, the same moral and personal daring. Jack- son introduce-d himself to the practice by undertaking the prosecution of suits, which others, of a profession not used to quail before danger or shrink from responsibility were intimidated from representing. Clay enrolled himself, a boy, among the competitors of the strongest bar in Ken tucky, and issued his writ against one of the most prominent and powerful of them, in favor of an obscure bar-keeper, at the certain cost of the defendant's deadly resentment ; and defied that hatred to its extremest manifestations. Both early impressed themselves upon the community around them, and were distinguished for the same personal charac- teristics. Both rose at once to posts of honor and distinc- tion ; and at an early age enrolled their names, and to the last preserved them, among the first and highest of the re- public. Both were men of quick perception; of prompt action ; of acute penetration ; of business capacity ; of mas culine common sense ; of quick and unerring judgment of men ; of singular fertility of resources ; of remarkable power to create or avail themselves of circumstances ; of RESEMBLANCE BETWEEN THEM. 283 consummate tact and management. Both were distinguished for grace and ease of manners, for happy and polished ad- dress, and for influence over the wills and afi'ections of those who came within the circle of their acquaintance and asso- ciations. Both were of lithe, sinewy, and slender physical conformation ; uniting strength with activity, and great pow- ers of endurance with a happy facility of labor. Both were men of the warmest affections ; of the gentlest and most con- ciliating manners in social intercourse when they wished to please; of truth and loyalty, and steadfastness in friend- ship ; bitter and defiant in their enmities ; of extraordinary directness in their purposes ; of a patient and indefatigable temper in following out their ends, or waiting for their ac- complishment. Neither could brook a rival or opposition ; and each had the imperial spirit of a conqueror not to be sub- dued, and the pride of leadership which could not follow. They were Americans both, intensely patriotic and national, loving their whole country, its honor, its glory, its institu- tions, its Union, with a love kindled early and quenched only in death. They both spent much of their long lives, from youth to hoary age, in the public service, maintaining to the last, with only the modifications which age necessarily makes upon the mental and physical constitution, the same characteristics for which they were at first distinguished. They lived lives of storm, excitement and warfare ; each in point of real au- thority equally at the head of his party ; in and out of office equally acknowledged leaders ; and they died each full of 284 JACKSON AND CLAY. years and honors, and by the same lingering disease ; pro fessing towards the close of life, the same religion ; and leaving upon the country, at the death of each prosperous and peaceful, a saddened sense of a great and common calamity. These distinguished statesmen owed much of their effec- tive greatness to circumstances, and especially to their early settlement in a new country. A young community, unorgan- ized and free, furnishes an open, unoccupied field for energy and intellect. It gives them a fair chance and an even start. The community is impressible to the former's hand. The intrigues of cliques, the artificial arrangements of an old society, and the pre-occupation of predecessors do not obstruct the way. The people, by the force of circumstan- ces, stand in natural equality. They are as yet undivided into cliques or factions, or fixed to previous relations or par- ties, or bound down by ideas and prejudices to old men or old systems. The population of Tennessee and Kentucky in those days was a border people, full of enterprise, energy and boldness ; men of warm hearts and generous temper, free alike from wealth and poverty ; independent in spirit, while dependent on each other for the reciprocal courtesies and benefits of neighborhood ; and completely homogeneous in feelinor and interest. Such a community is eminently a practical people. Their ideas are about practical affairs. Their business is with the concrete. They have no time for refined theories or subtle disputations. Their business relates to the present and THE BACKWOODS LEADEIl. 285 the material. Refined speculation comes with a refined and advanced society. What they have to do, they must do at once, and by the most expeditious and most efiective means. To address them successfully, one must address their roliust common sense, and their unsophisticated feelings. Bracing themselves up against difficulties and dangers, and forced to rely upon themselves for all things, the masculine qual- ities of heart and mind were early and strongly developed ; and accordingly we find in the new settlements, the bravest soldiery which the war called into the field. There was much to do. The wilderness was to be im- proved into a country ; and a policy fixed providing for the necessities of a society that wanted every thing which gov- ernment bestows, and to be divested of whatever governments repress. As face answereth to face in water, so must the popular favorite answer to the genius and character of the people. Only a bold, frank, decisive man could rise to power in such a community. He must shrink from no danger ; he must fear no responsibility ; he must wear no mask ; he must wait for no cue ; he must be able to appeal to the strong feelings and the manly common-sense of the people. Honesty of purpose, earnestness and faithfulness, and above all, a boidness approaching recklessness, were the quali- ties essential for leadership among such a people. Trained to grapple closely with every question, to apply to a measure the touchstone of its practical working, to look into the nature, motives and feelings of men as they were presented almost 286 JACKSON AND CLAY. naked to the eye, and to see the springs and curious mecha- nism of the human heart and character, these great men had early schooled themselves in the most valuable learning of statesmanship, and mastered a knowledge, which all the books on statecraft and all the teachings of colleges could not supply. The elaborate tricks and tinsel, the prettinesses of expres- sion, the balanced sentences and glittering periods of oratory, much less the artful dodges and the slippery equivocations of a tricksy politician, would find but a sorry audience, before the stern countenances, and the keen, penetrating eyes of the hunters, assembled around the rude rostrum, in 'coon caps and linse^^-woolsey garments, leaning on their rifles, their sun-burnt visages bent upou the face of the speaker, with an expression that indicated they were not to be trifled with. To come at once to the point, to seize the bull by the horns, to lead out boldly and roundl}' their propositions, to urge strong arguments in nervous language, to storm the enemy's batteries, to attack him in his strong hold, to hurl at his head the merciless sarcasm, to cover* him with ridicule, to denounce him and his principles in terms of fiery invective, to ply the warm appeal to the passions and sensibilities : — these were the weapons of a warfare which was only efi"ec- tive, when it was known that the hand was ready to wield, with the same alacrity, weapons of personal combat. The habit of mingling freely with the people, brought the personal character of a public man in close contact and intimate acquaintance with them ; and, in this way, he caught CLAY AS A COMMANDER. 287 the spirit of the people, as well as communicated to them his own. Though the circumstances of the two great rivals were so alike at the outset, their paths diverged in after life. The war with Great Britain and her Indian allies, furnished the theatre upon which both of them first became introduced to the nation ; in difi"erent characters, it is true. The genius of each was eminently military and executive. Jackson was a statesman in the camp ; Clay a captain in the senate. Clay had early come before the people as an orator and politician ; and it was natural for him to continue to labor in that field when his country, at that time more than at any former pe- riod, needed his services in the public councils. It is known, however, that at so high a rate did Madison appreciate his talents for military command, that he was about to ten- der him the appointment of commander of the forces, and was only withheld from the profi'er, by the call for his servi- ces at the head of the war party in Congress. It is impos- sible to know the result of such an appointment upon the public interests, or upon the personal fortunes of Mr. Clay. But it were a falsifying of all the calculations which men may make of the future, to suppose that such rare abilities, and such unsurpassed energies, would have been otherwise than successfully employed upon a theatre to which they were seemingly so signally adapted ; and it needed but the prestige of the camp to have crowned a popularity and rounded out a fame, before which competition and rivalry must have hung their diminished heads. But this was fated 288 JACKSON AND CLAY. not to be. The laurels of the hero were not to be blended in the fadeless wreath of orator, philanthropist, statesman, jurist, cabinet minister and diplomatist. Fortune could scarcely be reproached with injustice when, lavishing upon this favorite son the graces and accomplishments which lend a charm to social life, and all the qualifications and successes of every department of civil service, she refused to add the trophies of the soldier. Jackson's spirit, if not more active, was less fitted for the council-hall than the battle-field. His was not the elaborate eloquence of the senate. Swords, not words, were his arguments. His was the true Demosthenic eloquence of action. He had neither the temper nor the abilities to parley. He could speak tersely, vigorously, movingly, but his words were the brief words of command. Action followed speech, as thunder the lightning. He had no patience for the solemn forms, the dull routine, the prosy speech-making, the timid platitudes, or the elaborate ratio- cinations of legislative debate. Sudden and quick in opin- ion as in quarrel, heart, soul and mind all mingled in his conclusions, and the energy that conceived a purpose, started it into overt act. With him, to think and to do were not»so much two things as one. His eager and impatient soul would have fevered over a debate, on a proposition to declare war, or to provide means for prosecuting it, as the knight, Ivanhoe, on his sick bed in the castle of Front de Boeuf, writhed in helpless impatience, when he heard the clangor of the warriors storming the battlements for his deliverance. Like Job's war-horse, he scented the battle fron> afar, and, JACKSON AS A CAPTAIN. 289 at the sound of the trumpets, cried ha ! ha ! The first man in resolution and daring in the community in which he lived, he did not so much rise to the command of the warlike troops, that flocked to the first standard unfurled in the young settlements, as the command naturally came to him ; so, by native allegiance to greatness, the weak in distress and ter- ror turn, through instinct, for safety to the strong. Putting himself at the head of his raw recruits, he moved upon the Indian camps and conquered, as easily as he found the enemy. His work was as thorough as swift. He did no- thing by halves. A war with him was nearly an extermi- nation. It was always a complete destruction of the power of the foe. He took no security from an enemy except his prostration. He closed the war at New Orleans by one of the most signal victories, every thing considered, upon record. But to do this, he assumed powers and responsibilities from which Nelson might have shrunk. But the event sanctified the means, if those were indeed equivocal. Arbuthnot and Ambrister were hung in Florida, notwithstanding the verdict of a court-martial ; and the Spanish flag was no protection to those, who, under it, concocted designs against his country. His military career . was short but brilliant. "Without any military training or education, he discovered talents of the first order for arms, and brought raw militiamen to the strict subordination of the regular service. He was a rigid disci- plinarian. He tolerated no license or disobedience in the camp. He could sit beside a sick soldier all night, and 13 290 JACKSON AND C.^AY. share his last crust with him, as with a brother ; and shoot him the day after for sleeping on his post. Jackson was an enthusiast ; not a flaming zealot, but one of the Ironsides. He was built of the Cromwell stuff, with- out Cromwell's religious fanaticism. He had but little to- leration for human weaknesses. He was incredulous of im- possibilities. He was no patient hearer of excuses. Before his irrepressible energy difficulties had vanished, and he could not see why it was not so with others. He could not see why the Seminoles could not be driven out of Florida into the sea, as easily as he drove the Creeks into the Coosa The spirit of a conqueror was his in a double measure. Upon the work in hand he concentrated all his powers, girded up his loins, strained every muscle, and put forth every energy of mind and soul and strength. He had no thought of failure. The world around was a blank to him except as the theatre on which he acted, and meat and drink, and air and light were only the instruments for success. Nothing was too costly an expenditure" ; no sacrifice was too great to attain it. With him, thus inspired, there was no such word as fail. Accordingly, there was no such thing as failure in his history. The man who, rising from a sick bed with a broken arm in a sling, could place himself before a company of insurgent soldiers leaving the camp for home, and, holding a pistol in the bridle-hand, threaten to shoot down the first man that marched on, had nothing to learn of human audacity. Men of nerve quailed before him. as cowards quail before men of nerve. When the storms of wrath passed Jackson's courage. 291 over his fiery soul, there was something as terrible in his voice and mien, as in the roused anger of the lion. The calm resolution of his placid movements, in its still and col- lected strength, conveyed an idea of power in repose, like the sea, broad, unfathomable, majestic, awaiting but the storm to waken its tides, and lash its waves into the sublime energy, that hurls on high and against the shore the armaments upon its bosom. He was ever the same. He did not rise to passion to fall back into lassitude. The same even port of firm, calm, dignified composure marked his bearing, when the gusts of passion did not disturb his serenity. His air of command was not broken by any familiarity. Serious and earnest in small things and great, there was no time when imper- tinence could break in upon his dignity, or feel itself tolerat- ed by his condescension. "Whoever looked upon him, saw one whom it was better to have as a friend, and whom it was dangerous to have for an enemy. He reciuired of his friends an undeviating fidelity ; he freely gave what he exacted. He could excuse or was blind to every thing in a friend except disloyalty to friendship ; that with him was the unpardonable sin. We consider Jackson and Clay as incontestably the greatest men of their respective parties. In this estimate, we judge of men as we judge of a machine, by what it can accomplish. That there were men of greater intellectual calibre than either, we are willing to concede ; that in some departments of human activity, these would have far out- 292 JACKSON AND CLAY. slione the two leaders — for instance, as professors of col- leges, or in literature — we readily allow ; but in the practical business of statesmanship, or in any other business requiring the same sort of abilities — for whatever things energy, perseverance and courage can accomplish, they were the most efficient men of their time. Those who differ with us in the result, most probably differ in the premises. We regard the will as the man ; as not so much giving indivi- duality as being it. The strong will, therefore, is the strong man. The intellect is but the servant of the will, not con- trolling it more than any other servant may its master, but controlled by it ; or, at most, is but the light by which the will may work ; and is as inferior to it in true dignity, as the lamp is inferior to the man that reads or walks by its rays. What better evidence have we of Napoleon's greatness, than that, in an age of great men, his pre-eminent greatness was unchallenged ; and that, among the strifes of rivalry, the point of precedence struggled for was beloiv him ? Who, in the Democratic party, could have carried away from Jackson, in a political contest, ten thousand votes ? Who, in his time, could have made a respectable schism in the Democratic party ? Much more, who would have ven- tured to lead a policy in the House or the Senate, before it had the Executive imprimatur? And at what period of the Whig struggle, would not Clay's defection have been equiva- lent to striking the flag ? It is a mistake to suppose that General Jackson owed CAUSE OF Jackson's roruLArdTY. 29S his popularity to bis military services. Unquestionably, his military exploits were an element of that popularity. It could scarcely be otherwise among so warlike a people ; especially with the soldiers he led to battle, and those whom they could influence, was this peculiarly true ; and it is also true that, in the states in which his battles were fought, the mere circumstance of his fighting them made him a popular favorite. But mere admiration of a military chieftain as such, and mere gratitude for military services, could not have so impressed the heart or the imagination of the nation. We see an illustration of this truth in the case of the con- queror of Mexico, the first of living generals, at once in the length of his career, and the number, importance, and brilliancy of his victories. The nation, although it appreci- ates and acknowledges his services, and feels proud of him, yet admires him coldly and at a distance ; admires him as he admires the swords presented to him by legislatures, or as they admire the Paixhan guns he fired at the castle of San Juan. There is no personalitij in their idea of him ; they seem to regard him but as a curious and efi'ective military machine. The deeds of the warrior were effective in Jackson's popularity, in drawing attention to, and in unfolding the character of the man ; and it was that character^ a know- ledge of which was so evolved, that was popular. We have already indicated in what this popularity mainly consisted ; in what particular he stood forth pictorially, so to speak, before the people. He was marked out and dis- 294 JACKSON AND CLAY. tiDguished from the mass of mankind as a substantive original, peculiar character, mainly distinctive in the sublime attribute of a powerful will, of a fervid enthusiasm ; as the impersonation of energy and power; as the genius of the practical ; and his character, otherwise severe and repellant, was softened and endeared to the people by warm passions and affections, and a genuine love of his race and his country. The HEROIC ELEMENT imprcsscd him strongly upon the mind of the nation. It is of the nature of man to side with the strong. The influences which draw men are not the gentler or more lov- ing qualities. Whoever has observed much of the conduct of the masses, knows that the hero of the crowd is a repre- sentative of the sterner qualities, rather than of the softer and more amiable. A daring robber on the gibbet excites more of vulgar sympathy than a suffering martyr at the stake. The bully of a muster-field always takes the shouts and attracts the homage even of those of the rabble, who are only spectators, from the man whom he has imposed upon or insulted, without provocation or mercy. The crowd must look up to a man before they will applaud him, much more before they will be governed by him ; and they will look up only to those whom they fear, or, at least, whose qualities they fear. They only regard with reverence men who possess those properties which conquer or inspire men with awe. Courage is one of the most vulgar of virtues, yet the Romans prized it so highly that they gave it the name of THE GRAND AND THE HEROIC. 295 virtue^ as if it comprehended all virtue ; and even now, in more cultivated times, and in the prevalence of gentler manners, it is that quality -which is most respected among men. There is a mesmerism of will which works more powerfully upon men than virtue or intellect ; a fascination of the eye which charms like the serpent. Love wins. Power commands. But love is inspired for the most part only by personal relation, or in close prox- imity to the object of it. The man of a nation is but an Ideal ; and we do not love the ideal. TVe can admire, we can reverence, we may have the image stamped upon our imaginations, and thus grow familiar, with it. It may thus excite our enthusiasm. We thus become acquainted, so to speak, with great men ; and thus honor, support, uphold them. But the merely amiable and quiet virtues will not impress them upon us. They must be painted in some stronger hues than water -colors. The vermilion tints and the great lines of the Grand and the Heroic are necessary to imprint the imagination with their characters. Men, to be popular, must be known ; and a character like Jackson's could not but be known and felt. We doubt if Milton's Satan would not be a more popular man, if he took the human form, than Fenelon ; and, at least, in France, would not carry the suffrages of the masses in a popular election. Take the case of Napoleon Bonaparte. He is the ideal of energy — energy incarnate. Did any name ever so impress the human imagination ? Was human sympathy ever so 296 JACKSON AND CLAY. drawn forth before as for him, when in his island-prison ? More sympathy has been expended upon him than upon the whole martyrology. Did any man ever leave so vivid a sense of his being and personality upon the mind of the world ? Why, his very name, the faintest shadow and memento of himself, turned French politics inside out, and established its representative as an institution of France. The Sultan's cimeter in the Eastern story, the shadow of which, at twenty paces, cut off an enemy's head, was nothing to the shade of the great Emperor, that, at a distance of a genera- tion, cut down a kingdom, a line of kings, and a republic, and blazed out the way to a new empire and a new dynasty. "What a hold the great Marlborough had upon the admi- ration of the world in his day is well known ; and yet, if the half of what Thackeray says of him is true, Falstaff might have set to him as a model and prodigy of decency, honor, and virtue. We believe General Jackson to have been much misun- derstood. He was neither a god nor a devil. He was wor- thy neither of adoration nor of detestation. Like every other man of stroug and marked character and of positive forces, he had the centrifugal and the centripetal tendencies in a proportionate degree. He drew and he repelled according as the object was of like or contrary character, or as he con- ciliated or opposed the interests, purposes, or sentiments of others. It is the law of a soul highly charged with the elec- tricity of passion and sensibility, to work in this manner. Jackson's private character. 297 Combativeness excites combativeness in others ; pride, pride ; as deep calls out to deep. No man had more devoted friends, and no man had more bitter enemies. He was a good hater. Dr. Johnson could not have had a man more to his mind in this respect ; and he had rather conquer one enemy than conciliate two. He could forgive an enemy, but the enemy must first surrender at discretion. Like Tecum- seh, he gave no quarter while the battle was raging ; like Tecumseh, he never asked it ; unfortunately for his enemies, he never needed it. But he never forgave a friend. He be- came reconciled to BentoUj who had fought with him for life. He never could have become reconciled to Calhoun, whom he supposed, justly or unjustly, to have betrayed his friendship, or played double with him. "We have taken pains to learn the private character — the character as it was in dishabille — not draped up for the world to look at — of the man of the Hermitage. It was dif- ferent from any thing many suppose. As a neighbor, Jack- son was the soul of kindness and generosity. To the poor, he was as a father ; to all honest to a punctilio, and, in mo- ney matters, as just and honorable as Franklin. Simple and frugal in his tastes and habits, he was unpretending and re- publican enough for a Swiss farmer ; and yet neither ava- ricious nor prodigal of money. He neither wasted nor hoard- ed, was neither exacting nor negligent; was a discreet manager, without undue anxiety or driving energy. In his domestic relations, he was a model. He was a kind master, governing his slaves more as a Scotch chieftain his clan, or 13* 298 JACKSON AND CLAY. a Hebrew patriarch his tribe, than as a driver, or as a planter holding lands and negroes, mules and ploughs as so much stock in trade, of value only as they were profitable. And in that nearer and closer tie of domestic life, some- thing of romance, of a proud and knightly obeisance and homage, and devoted love, shed its unprosaic hues over a mindj whose characters were written in the strongest and most masculine prose of the sternly practical. More might be said in illustration of this observation, but more is unne- cessary. Of kindred fidelity was his personal friendship. He could not do enough for his friends. He made their in- terests his own. He took charge of their fortunes. He made their cause his cause, and their enemies his enemies. Truly did he say, in his last letter to Blair, that he had " never deserted a friend from policy; " and bitter was his scorn of his politic successor's desertion of the old thunderer of '' The Globe." As sincerely did he make this protestation as he breathed the prayer that Blair '•' might triumph over all his enemies." He seemed to delight in promoting those to high offices, whom the opposite party despised, and was not deterred by the distrust or dislike of many of the most distinguished members of his own. But, it must be con- fessed, all this friendship was, perhaps unconsciously, the friendship of patronage. The spirit of his kindness was the spirit of a leader, or, at least, an air of imperial protection tinctured it. We are not aware that any personal friend- ship of his survived opposition to his measures or his ticket ; and how many ceased with political agreement ! Jackson's abilities. 299 It were a bold thing to say that Jackson was the equal of Clay in many things. In many respects he was not. Jackson had no pretensions to oratory. His influence over men was as great, perhaps even greater, though this is saying a great deal. He was not a ready writer. He was scarcely able to write correct English on the commonest topics, as his letters to Lewis and to Blair testify. The man who could write the letter of which the fac simile is given in the Dem- ocratic Review, had a good deal to learn of the art of writing, and was certainly independent of his schoolmaster for his fame. He had no great deal of political information, and knew little of ancient or modern history. We apprehend he never was much of a student, and had no great partiality for letters. What he saw at all, he saw as clearly as any man, but he did not see far, nor was his vision wide in its sweep. He had remarkable sagacity, but it was a sagacity which related to the practical and the present. Men were his books, and he studied them closely and understood them thoroughly. He knew as well as any one what a man was good for, and to what use he could be put. If he could not do a thing himself, he knew, the next best thing, where to go to get it done, and when it was well done. Accordingly, he had able ministers, and the most powerful press that ever supported an administration. The only press that ever completelyreflected the tone and character of an Executive, was ''The Globe." It was a whole troop of cavalry and a park of flying artillery besides. Nor did Jackson (mly know men in detail. He knew 30C JACKSON AND CLAY. them in gross. He thoroughly understood the genius of the American people, and knew what they desired and what they would stand. His faculties did not sweep a large circle, but they worked like a steam-engine within that circle. He lacked versatility ; but this was so far from being a defect, that we doubt if it were not the secret of his wonder- ful success. It prevented a diversion of his powers and efforts, and concentrated them, as by a lens, upon those objects, which this singleness of aim enabled him to effect. If we measure power by success, the palm must be awarded to Jackson. If we suppose politics to be a game of skill played for aggrandizement by politicians, the same award must be made. Jackson unquestionably was the ablest strategist. The* letter to Monroe against pro- scription, if we suppose it written by Gen. Jackson, with the object of promoting his election to the Presidency, was a stroke of policy not unworthy of Talleyrand. The Fede- ralists, long proscribed, and naturally desirous of again being admitted to consideration and office, were as yet un- appropriated. They had abandoned their old organization, and had not enrolled themselves under any other banner. It was not difficult to see where gratitude and a sense of security and interest would carry them. The election of Adams, by the House of Eepresenta- tives, was turned to account, with all its incidents and sur- roundings, with admirable effect, by General Jackson. No J clay's great blunder. 30 i one now believes the story of bargain, intrigue and manage- ment told upon Adams and Clay ; but General Jackson believed it, and, what is more, made the country believe it in 1825. jidams was an unpopular man, of an unpopular section of the country. Crawford's friends were as little pleased as Jackson's with the course affairs took. The war- fare upon Adams was hailed by them with joy, and they be- came parties to an opposition, of which, it was easy to see, Jackson was to be the beneficiary. Clay's ambition or incaution betrayed him into the serious, and, as it turned out. so far as concerns the presidency, the fatal error of accepting office, the first office, under the ad- ministration which he called into power. It was, in all politic respects, a most inexcusable blunder. The office added nothing to his fame. It added nothing to his chances for the presidency. He was, on the contrary, to share the odium of an administration, at whose head was a very obstinate man, of impracticable temper, coming, by a sort of bastard pro- cess, into office ; bearing a name which was the synonyme of political heterodoxy ; and whose administration was fated to run a gauntlet, from the start to the close, through a long lane of clubs, wielded by the Forsythes, McDuffies, Ran- dolphs, and almost the whole talent of the South. It was bad enough to vote for such a man. But Clay might have recovered from that. But to vote for him, and then take office under him, was suicide. A mere politician would have played the game quite differently. The Crawford vote was the vote to conciliate ; and Crawford, in all human pro- 302 JACKSON AND CLAY. bability, would not live to be a candidate at tlie n^sxt election One vote for him, would not have altered the result ; while had Adams or Jackson been elected, Clay would have retained his chances for the presidency, and been uncom- mitted, with the advantage of the strength he had conciliated But, instead of this, he placed himself voluntarily in the minority, to bear the brunt of the assault of a majority that knew no mercy, and would give no quarter. When Adams was elected, opposition to him became the rallying cry of all the aspirants ; and those, who were rivals before, now be- came confederates. Clay was, in all respects, too prominent as a man, as one of the actors in installing the administra- tion, and as a member of it, to escape assault ; and it turned out that, without the powers or honors of President, he had to endure the assaults and annoyances of presidential op- position. Those assaults were not slow in coming. The public mind had laid fallow for some years, and was prepared for a bountiful crop of political agitation. Jackson raised the war- cry, and the hills and valleys, all over the land, echoed back the shout. A lava-tide of obloquy poured in a fiery flood over Clay. It seemed to take him by surprise. The idea that his voting for Adams, and then occupying the first office in his gift, seconded by the supports which the hypothesis of ^^bargain^^ found, or which were made for it, should originate such a charge, seems never to have entered his imagination. And when it came, he had the weakness to EFFECT OF ADAMS's ELECTION. 303 attempt to strangle it by personal intimidation, or to avenge it by violence. The election of Adams, under such circumstances, was the making of Jackson. It filled up his popularity. It completely nationalized it. The State-Rights Party, to whom the name and lineage of Adams were enough for op- position, turned, at once, to the man who could best defeat him, and saw, at a glance, who that man was ; and the popu- lar sympathy was quickly aroused in behalf of the honest old soldier circumvented by two cunning politicians. CHAPTER 11. Clay'd Party Tactics— Adams's Administration— Jackson's and Clay's Mutual Hatred— Charge against Clay— Jackson as President- Clay in the Senate — The "War of the Giants— The "Spoils" Doctrine — The Proclamation and Force Bill- John Eandolph— His Character— Jackson's Influence. Clay committed three capital errors as a mere tactician. He should not have become a candidate for the presidency. He was young enough to wait. His talents and his growing popularity had placed him " in the line of safe precedents." The presidency was coming fast enough to him. He stood no chance of election then, and a defeat nearly always weakens a candidate. He should not have allied himself to the New England influence ; an influence never strong, then unpopular, and from which power was continually receding. He should not, above all, have taken ofiSce under Adams, We speak of these things as mere matters of policy, leaving out of consideration the higher questions of right and prin- ciple ; though, as to two of these errors, there was no prin- ciple involved, which required a sacrifice of self-interest ; we mean his candidacy and his acceptance of the premiership. 305 He had committed earlier a serious blunder, considered in the same narrow and selfish light. He had broken a lance with the Virginia politicians, and run a tilt at Monroe, on the question of Internal Improvements, involving a con- struction of the Constitution. So prominent had he stood in the ranks of the Republican party, by his services in Con- gress, in behalf of the war, and his agency in the treaty of Ghent, that the Virginia influence, still strong, if not longer exerted in behalf of one of her own citizens, (and it could not be expected that the Virginia market was to supply all the demands for Presidents,) might naturally be expected to go to one of her own sons. But Clay assailed, in no gentle spirit, the jealous character of a Commonwealth de- clining from the high position of her ancient influence, and the more sensitive, in her decline, of disrespect to her pre- tensions and authority. The Virginia doctrines, too, were progressive. What was orthodoxy in 1798 and 1816, was something short of it in 1825. And Clay's opinions in regard to this measure and its principle, enabled the advocates of the Virginia doctrines to rally the Republican or State-Rights party against him ; while the bold and imperious bearing of the great commoner, in the flush-tide of an ambition, which knew, at that time, better how to command than to conciliate, excited the jea- lousy of the colleagues and associates, who had, for so many years, exerted so controlling an influence on public afiairs. In the conduct of the canvass of 1827-28, Mr. Clay did not show any marked ability, as a manager. He made many 306 JACKSON AND CLAY. speeches, and they were able and eloquent. But they were dinner speeches, addressed to but few, and those friends, and read only by few. The course of Jackson was different. He said but little, but that little was to the point. The rough, unlettered honesty and vigor of his criminations were more effective than the polished sarcasm, the lofty declamation, and the elaborate reasonings of his antagonist. The policy of the Adams administration, calm, prudent, pacific and thoroughly conscientious and conservative, was not the policy to win favor and enlist support. It might have retained a popular- ity already won ; but it was necessary, in order to sustain the administration, to stop the progress of opposing influ- ences, determined to condemn and not to be appeased ; and to throw in new elements, which might attract new recruits. A bold and spirited policy, with new ideas and large aims, was required, to draw off opposition, and to create fresh is- sues, upon which the administration and its enemies could join, with advantage to the former. The fiery spirit of Jack- sonism could only have been fought with fire. The public mind craved excitement. One of those periodical epidemics had come over the country, before which a tame conserva- tism is driven like chaff. It is probable that nothing could have saved the Adams administration. It is certain that the healthy process of keeping the body politic on a quie regimen, and letting it grow, was not the prescription that suited a people thirsty for excitement and fevering for action. But the administration was fixed to a policy, which was to THEIR MUTUAL HATRED. 307 let the ship float, and keep the crew scrubbing the deck and scouring the guns. The opposition was fixed to none. There were many parties and sects opposed to Adams and his principles or practices ; and all these were for Jackson. A very various opposition was melted down into a very vague Jacksonism. It carried every thing before it, as com- binations usually do ; and the star that never paled after- wards, shone out, the first and brightest in the political firmament, and shed disastrous twilight on Clay and his fortunes. If these great rivals agreed in nothing else, they agreed in hating each other with uncommon fervor. They had early come in collision. Clay had attacked Jackson, in language studiously guarded, but still, in effect, strongly reprehensive. His speech on the Pensacola business was marked by great vigor, and more than characteristic eloquence ; and, doubt- less, in the frank habit its author had of saying what he thought and felt without mincing words, he had said things of Gen. Jackson's conduct, which, repeated with or without the usual exaggeration, were not particularly agreeable to his eager and passionate nature. But this might have been forgiven. It is certain that it was glossed over. The par- ties met and civilities were interchanged. When, however, the affiliation of Clay and Adams was consummated, a spirit of bitter, uncompromising, life-long enmity was aroused. Its course and its consequences we have partially attempted to sketch. Clay had a great deal to forgive. Probably, his mag- 308 JACKSON AND CLAY. nanimous and generous temper enabled him to forgive as much as any man. He had use for all his energies in this department of Christian virtue. If any man could ever be justified in turning misanthrope, it was he. Jackson had dealt him a prodigious blow. He had struck .him not only at the worst time for the victim, but in the most vital spot, and with a weapon himself had placed in his enemy's hand. Clay was at the age when men are most ambitious, and he was naturally one of the most ambitious of men. He had ascended the political mount with toil and labor, and saw before him the promised land glowing in the beauty of a love- ly landscape, and gilded with the enchanted hues distance lends to the view ; and to be hurled rudely and suddenly back to the foot of the hill, with a mountain of obloquy rolled upon him, was, certainly, no very pleasant experi- ence. Clay plumed himself upon his elevation of character. He had formed to himself a model and an ideal far above the vulgar standard of statesmanship. He had taken his type (he could not have taken a higher) from the brightest exam- ples of the Virginia school, in the fresh and palmy days of her glory and greatness. His ambition was to fill a niche in the Pantheon, in which the Henrys, the Madisons, the Mar- shalls stood. His large love of approbation sought gratifi- cation, in the respect and homage of the moral and the intel- lectual of the land. He was a gentleman, and desired to stand high in the front rank of the gentlemen of the coun- try. Ho loved general popularity, too, not wisely but too Jackson's charge against clay. 309 well. His strength lay in the lofty appeals he made to the higher and nobler qualities of the heart, to whatever digni- fies and ennobles our nature, and in his withering scorn of the base, mean and sordid. He had but little skill and no inclination to address the prejudices, or to arouse the ground- ling passions of the masses ] but those who have listened to his stirring and animated appeals to the reason, and the moral sense and the generous sensibilities of men, until every nerve thrilled at his bidding, know how strong was the power of that eloquence, which, equally in youth and in age, could sway senates and courts and people, as the moon sways the tides of the sea. To assail him in the source of his power, was to attack his very life's life. He found himself so assailed. He found the very idea of his existence as- sociated with the idea of meanness. He found his name the synonyme of intrigue, treachery and political knavery. He found the popular heart inflamed against him as a colossal cheat. The charge Jackson preferred against him could not be answered ; for, in the tempest of indignation which pre- vailed, his voice could not be heard above the din of the elements. Jackson had piled on him mountains of infamy, which it required more than the strength of the Titans of old to upheave. A thousand presses rang with the charge ; ten thousand orators echoed it from ten thousand stumps. He was the theme of hundreds of thousands of tongues, all busy in the work of acrid denunciation. In the council-hall, in the town meeting, in city and in country, at the church door, in the dram-shop, on the muster ground, by the fire-side, in the 310 JACKSON AND CLAY. stage-coach, on the steamboat, on the busy wharf, at the log raising on the remote frontier, his infamy was the engrossing topic of discourse. More than this : the leading issue of a presidential election was his corruption vel non ; and the popular verdict, with almost unequalled unanimity, was against him ; and what was worse, in the election with that issue, his native state and his adopted state both went against him. As a mass of quicksilver attracts to it the vagrant glob- ules, so the other errors of his free and unguarded life ran into and swelled this monstrous accusation. He had played cards, like Jackson and every other Southern gentleman. He was now set down as little short of a regular blackleg, who had turned his skill in that sort of cheatery into poli- tics, and, in conspiracy with Adams, had cut, shuffled and dealt, on a stocked pack, General Jackson and the whole American people out of the presidency ! It cannot be de- nied that, at this time, John Randolph's merciless sarcasm was the expression of a general sentiment ; that he occupied the place in politics assigned to Captain Riley in private life, or to Overreach in the characters of fiction ; and that sentence of virulent satire, condensing the venom of a whole brood of cobra capellos, " the union of the puritan and the blackleg, of Blifil and Black George," spoken, as Junius would have uttered it, conveyed the general sense at once of his conduct and his character. No wonder Clay called the sardonic satyr to the field, and essayed the keen marksman- SOUTHERN JEALOUSY OF CLAY. 311 ship of splitting a bullet on liim ; the edge of his shadowy outline being nearly as sharp as his wit. Gen. Jackson was not a man to leave a work half done. All his influence was exerted, and all his energies employed, to clinch the nail driven into Clay's character. The bold and constant denunciations of him by Gen. Jackson, were matters of knowledge to all who approached the "White House. Clay found those who had been his warm friends, some of them his confidential and trusted ones, in the ranks of the opposition, not merely waging a political warfare against him, but the loudest and the bitterest in the assaults upon his character. It was a valuable lesson in human na- ture that was taught him ; but the tuition charge was some- what high. It cannot be denied that the Southern statesmen looked upon Clay with something of jealousy and something of unkindness. Many of these were hereditary politicians : almost all of them were gentlemen, born, bred and educated. They seemed to look upon the Kentucky senator as a speci- men of the parvenu, as a new man, as a hoosier, and a hoo- sier meant " half-horse, half-alligator, and a little touch of the snapping-turtle." He had come from the backwoods, at a time when they were a wilderness. He had passed through no college. His ancestral name was undistinguished. He had served no apprenticeship to any great man. He had been heralded and endorsed by no great name. Worse than all, he walked up to the first positions, asking no leave, con- ciliating no patronage, shunning no responsibility, soliciting 312 JACKSON AND CLAY. no favors, acknowledging no precedence, and ready to assail all men and all questions that came in his way. He had risen with marvellous rapidity ; first senator, then leading member, and in the first class of orators and statesmen, Speaker, commissioner to Ghent, offered the rule of Madi- son's appointments, refusing it again under Monroe, candi- date for President, and seemingly, though defeated for the present, on the highway to the presidency, if not checked in his forward course. Besides, he had not borne himself very humbly, certainly not in a very conciliating spirit, to the Virginia influence, then the dominant influence in the House for brains and po- litical accomplishments. He had given those politicians sun- dry raps on the knuckles ; he had defeated Iheir candidate for the speakership ; he had opposed them on the internal improvement and tariff questions ; and, with much of the sweetness of temper and frankness of Charles Fox, he had a cool, lounging sort of effrontery, a way of " giving a piece of his mind" — an air of deviltry gleaming out of his spark- ling eye, before the chin lengthened into the earnestness and expressed firmness of his iron resolution — which was not a little mocking and annoying to the second-rate men of Con- gress, oracles at home, whom he encountered, and handled sometimes not very gently. Almost without exception, these gentlemen joined in the clamor against Clay's imputed corruption ; and, almost without exception, did they live to regret or to recant the charges they uttered. The rising talent of the country, THE WAR OF THE GIANTS. 313 especially of the South, with probably a more justifiable pre- judice, caught at the story, and made the stump ring and the press groan, with their callow and rampant sophomore phi- lippics, before their porcupine quills had grown out of the pin- feather. Clay returned to the shades of retirement, and Jackson stepped into the Presidential office. Never was an admin- istration inaugurated more auspiciously, or started its voyage on a smoother sea or with more favoring winds ; and, from the seat of power, its chief looked down, with grim satisfaction, upon his rival's prospects, clothed in true poetic hues, * Darkly, deeply, beautifully blue.' The high office did not change the iron man a whit, how- ever he may have changed it. He was as much at home in the White-House as in his marquee ; and wore the robes of office with as graceful a dignity as if his life had been passed in courts and cabinets. Me?is equa in ardiiis, might have been his device, as Hastings' in India. The calm delights of rural retirement did not long hold, in luxurious repose, the active spirit of Clay, then in the golden prime of his faculties. He returned in 1831 •32 to the Senate of the United States. And now began, in good earnest, the war of the giants. Each was in the place best fitted for the display of his talents : Jackson in the executive department ; Clay in the great arena of debate, the American Senate. They were 14 314 JACKSON AND CLAY. now, where tbey could be seen and their influence felt, by the whole American people. The administration of Gen. Jackson was spirited. His strong hand was felt at the helm. The tendency and character of his administration were to consolidate his party. He impressed his own individuality upon the government and the nation. His exercise of the power of removal and appointment inspired a new excite- ment into the irregular and torpid pulse of party action. Clay made one or two moves on the board — and these unfortunate ones for his popularity — in favor of the Che- rokees — against pre-emption to settlers on the public lands, — in favor of internal improvements and the Bank of the United States, and against the appointment of Mr. Van Buren as minister to England. Another presidential election came on, and Clay again took the field against the old hero, and was signally defeated. Gen. Jackson came into his second term, and Clay re- mained in the Senate ; and now, for four years, the struggle was renewed with an earnestness, a bitterness- and an ability which brought out the energies of the two opposing leaders to their utmost power. Hitherto parties had been more per- sonal than political. But now parties were to be formed, with distinct creeds and well-defined principles, which, for a quarter of a century, would divide the country throughout its entire length. The spirit of Jacksonism was now to be seen in its full agency upon the country. The public mind was now prepared for the revelation to be made of it. The series of measures afi'ecting the currency, beginning with the REMOVAL Of THE DEPOSITS. 315 removal of the deposits, constituted the leading measures of contest. Nevef was the personal popularity of a man more thoroughly tested, the firmness of a politician tried more effectually, nor a popularity and nerve more triumphantly sus- tained. The veto of the U. S. Bank was nothing. It was rather unpopular even independently of the assailant's popu- larity. Money changers are not, and never have been, popu- lar favorites, from the time they were driven from the temple. Corporations are not popular in republics. Exclusive pri- vileges, money oligarchies, rag-barons, are phrases which catch the popular ear. Besides, their power is independent of the people. They are controlled by wealth, and wealth has no friend in envious poverty. Besides, charges were made against the Bank ; and to make a charge against a colossal shaving-shop, is the same thing as to prove it. Proof is irrelevant and out of place. Moreover, the State- Rights party, who only tolerated the Bank from necessity, now that the necessity had ceased, opposed it. But the re- moval of the deposits was another thing. That was a mea- sure of unequalled boldness. It involved the question of the powers of the different departments of the government. It brought into conflict the legislature and the executive. The Senate refused to sustain the measure. It rebuked the Pre- sident and charged him with usurping power. The Presi- dent retorted upon the Senate. He offered his protest. It was refused a place on the Senatorial records. The Presi- dent accused that body of prejudging his case, and of trying 316 JACKSON AND CLAY. and convicting him of crime unheard and without impeach, ment. He appealed to the people. * The course of the Senate was unwise. We think it un- fortunate for the Whigs that Clay and Calhoun were there at all, able and powerful as were their efforts against the Presi- dent. The popularity of Jackson was with the masses, and it was a popularity against them. The more conspicuously he stood out before the people, especially as the object of assault, and of tissault by his personal enemies, the more the • popular sympathies would side with him. Their attacks and proceedings carried with them the suspicion of ma- lignity, or, at least, of prejudice and interest. There was something, too, in the contest of Jackson against the tre- mendous array of talent embodied against him (of which Clay^ Webster and Calhoun were only the heads) himself stand- ing in heroic defiance of the entire host — like Codes at the head of the bridge — that was calculated to inspire admira- tion as well as to excite sympathy, with a generous, warlike and chivalric people. There were too many on one. The President stands as a personality — a warm and living man ; the Senate as a corporation. The former draws sympathy as a man from men. The latter may excite terror by power, but does not win sensibility through feelings of a kindred humanity. Besides, the Senate is the aristocratic institu- tion. Our idea of it is that of an army ; of the destruction of the whole of which we can hear without emotion ; while the portrayal of the sufi"erings of an individual excites our interest, and arouses our pity. It was impolitic to have put Jackson's administration. 317 Jackson on his resources— to have stimulated an activity, already sufficiently morbid. It were better to hare '• given bim rope," and taken the chances of his betrayal into rasher schemes or projects, or of his leaving— a small chance- unfortified his positions. The question miist have been made ; and the great struggle should, at once, have been begun before the people, before the administration and its friends had foreclosed inquiry. Above all, the pretexts or grounds of crimination which he found in the conduct of the Senate, should not have been given him. The man of the whole people would beat the confederation of the men of the states, with any thiug like an equal showino-. His first administration was aggressive, exciting, bold, daring ; yet not rash, considering the head of popularity which "brought him into power, and the small and feeble op- position he might expect to encounter. What he did, he did boldly ; and much is forgiven in a free country to boldness. He vetoed the Bank bill, which pleased the State-Rights party, then a powerful interest ; but he broke the efi'ect of the veto in other quarters, by the intimation that some dif- ferently organized institution might meet with favor. He pocketed the land bill, broke up the cabinet, quarrelled with Calhoun, and kept up a pretty brisk cannonade on the Bank, then floundering and spouting blood like a harpooned whale. But the leading influence on the country was the doc- trine and practice of removals from ofiice. He rewarded friends and discarded enemies. He gave out the idea pretty 318 JACKSON AND CLAY. distinctly that it was worth while to work for his side, an^ very dangerous to the office-holder or expectant to work against him. In this way, he diffused his own spirit and energy through every department of the government, and into every section of the country ; nor in this way only, but by his port, presence, bearing, enthusiasm, personal and official correspondence, and his earnest and decided expres- sions to all of the many who came near him, he excited the public mind in his favor, and seconded the efforts of an able press in his behalf. He had one advantage without which all this were of but little avail. He had the ear and the prepossessions of the people ; and no man ever lived who could better address their passions, and apply the arguments, and ply the appeals which found approval, or would create an impression on the common mind. It is astonishing what one powerful and active mind, concentrating its energies on a single purpose, can accomplish. Jackson was the boss of the great political workshop, and he tolerated no idleness among the journeymen and apprentices. The great cen- tral will was felt at the remotest corners of the empire. The administration was a highly-charged galvanic battery, and the officeholders and aspiring politicians were the media, diffused throughout all parts of the country, by which the electric current flowed out upon the people. As a mere party appliance, the spoils doctrine, as it is called, was and is (it seems to have been practically adopted by both parties) the most effective engine of party. It es- tablishes communication all over the country ; it gives an THE PROCLAMATION. 319 interest to thousands in the success of an administration ; it secures a corps of supporters, besides furnishing them with the means of offence and assault ; it makes the office-holder's place of business a party barrack, and himself ex officio drill sergeant and recruiting officer, and supplies him with the materiel for obtaining recruits, and instituting and perfect- ing organization. If it addresses the lower passions, they are the more active and energetic faculties. A man in politics may do a good deal from patriotism, but he does it by spasms and desultorily ; while he will work all the time for money and promotion ; and one or two active men and their tail can stir up a prodigious commotion in a community, if they will only do their best. The origination of this system was worthy of the genius of Ignatius Loyola. The proclamation of the President against South Caro- lina, and the Force-bill, issued in accordance with its princi- ples, was a severe and, in its result, a decisive test of Gen. Jackson's popularity. We have alluded to the enthusiasm with which the State-Rights party had supported him, and to the brilliant array of talent it brought to his aid. The Virginia influence had brought the lyrestige of the '98 doc- trines and the statesmen of that school, to the hero's stand- ard. It had supported Jackson, or at least, had opposed Adams and Clay, upon State-Rights grounds. Some purple patches of the old Professor of Rhetoric, intended to dizen out the commonplaces of one of his messages — something about " light-houses in the skies," and a toast about " ebony and topaz," which came pretty well up to the Scotchman's 320 JACKSON AND CLAY. definition of metaphysics, neither the author nor reader un- derstanding it — were taken, very much on trust, to be a covert assailment of the honored tenets of 179S. But what were these milk-and-water vaticinations to the strong meat of the proclamation ? The proclamation denied the sover- eignty of the States. It assumed the power of the General Government to treat a State as a revolted province, and to hang and quarter its citizens for high treason, if they, in obedience to State laws or ordinances, opposed the laws or authority of the Federal Government, within the limits of the State. Its principles unquestionably surrendered the State up to the mercy of the Federal Government ; her very existence held at the tenure of the will of the national powers ; saving only the right of revolution — a right, of which power is the predicate, and power the only arbiter to determine whether it exists in any given case. We wish the reader to understand that we express no opinion, as to the correctness of these or of any other principles or prac- tices which have divided parties. We are only reviewing the history of the time, in perfect independence of partisan feeling. But, unquestionably, the heaviest blow ever struck at the State-Rights school, was dealt by the proclamation. It attacked those doctrines in the abstract and in the con- crete, in the root and in the trunk, in the branches, in the flower, and in the fruit. Jackson dealt but little in abstrac- tions at any time, but on this occasion the proclamation was but the reading of the riot act before firing into the crowd ; or, rather, it was only a programme of proceedings, of which JOHN RANDOLPH. 321 the first step was to be the blockade of the port of Charleston. If it be true that political or religious prejudices may, after long and incessant inculcation by generation on generation, be imbedded and ingrained in the mental or moral constitu- tion, so that they become hereditary, like the instincts of ani- mals, State-Rights doctrines ought to have been ineradicable, flowing in the blood, and mixing in the marrow of the South- ern, and especially of the Virginian population For, since "the reign of terror," never was a doctrine, which no one opposed, so eloquently and powerfully advocated, taught, expounded, and sworn by. The republican doctrine was affirmed and re-affirmed in every variety of expression, and with religious solemnity, year after year, and by every de- partment of the State government, and by meetings of the people in every town and hamlet. It was the thirty-nine articles, to which every candidate for holy orders had to subscribe, before admission into the Republican church. No wonder, then, that the leaders stood aghast at this bold proclamation. No wonder that they opposed it. No wonder that the Virginia legislature, trembling for the honored creed which had given Virginia her political prom- inence and authority, and a line of Presidents to the con- federacy, should have been startled into opposition to this new reading of the constitution, which ignored all she reverenced and all she had taught. Tazewell and Tyler and Upshur," and Floyd and G-ilmer, and a host of gallant and gifted men, took open ground against the President. There was another. He was away when this conflict between South Carolina and 14* 322 JACKSON AND CLAY. the President began. The bravest lance of all the Knights of the Temple was away, when " one blast upon his bugle-horn were worth a thousand men." He had gone, that proud and scornful despiser of ofl&ce and placemen, that haughty con- temner of the sycophants and hirelings of power ; whose measureless coDtempt had been poured out in showers of vitriol upon sinecurists and dependents on official patronage, until elevation to office seemed to those, who followed the direction of his bony finger, to be the promotion of the pillory ; whose strength, even more than in the vigor of his sarcasm, lay, as Samson's in his locks, in the immaculate disinterestedness of his politics, and in his romantic loyalty to Virginia, and her service, and her rights ; and especially as against the General Government, which he regarded, as Hannibal looked upon Rome, as her sworn, hereditary, usurping enemy ; — he, in a moment which he ever cursed as the darkest of his troubled destiny, had taken service under the administration. And where was this great Warwick, almost " the last of the barons," noiv ? He had borne a body, emaciated to a skeleton by consumption, to the hyper- borean regions of Europe, with express permission to suffer the office to be subservient to his personal comfort and con- venience ; with a constitution fit only for a nursery ; with an in- tellect racked, and, at times, unseated from its imperial throne by physical disease, and the exacerbations of a temper unfitted for the patient, coolly-arranged and wily plans of diplomacy ; a presence and a person whose uncouth and eccentric move- ments only found apology and retained respect from thosa JOHN RANDOLPH, 323 who knew him in the past, and knew the splendid abilities which lay behind that eccentricity and deformity: he — of all living men ! — he went as a liveried sinecurist to the court of a despot, to exhibit himself to those whose language he did not know, and who did not know his, as a death's head at the pageant of the autocrat, to provoke the jeer or the more melancholy pity of a frivolous and half-civilized court ! But as the conflict thickened, which involved all he had ever cherished of political principle, he returned home again, weak and staggering, but with the old fire kindling into fierce action his sinking pulse. Like Brian De Bois-Guilbert in the lists of Temple- stowe, the Cavalier of Roanoke came more to die in harness than to fight in the cause, and as the champion of his order. Right clearly did his voice ring out the old war-cry, and the lance, that had, in his boyish hand, struck hard and full upon the helmet of Patrick Henry, was now boldly aimed at the towering crest of Jackson. Let us pause to do some meed of justice to this great man's memory. With all his faults and infirmities, great and glaring as these were, he was " the noblest Roman of them all." There was more of the true grit of manhood in him than in any man of his school Virginia ever produced. True, he was no democrat, and not much of a Republican, save in the name. Like Burke, his mind was that of a man of caste. He was a baron, but a baron of Virginia ; a re- presentative of the gentry, with all the ideas and prejudices 324 JACKSON AND CLAY. of class ; a Bramin of the Bramins. He was opposed to the Union, opposed to the Constitution, because it raised up a government and power greater than Virginia. It razeed Virginia from her imperial state. It allowed the Yankee to interfere with her affairs, nay even to control her policy. He wished to limit the power of the Federal Government— to un-nationalize it as much as possible — to recover by con- struction what she had lost by concession ; and for his whole life was he consistent, amidst a deluge of inconsistencies in his associates. This was his polar star; and by it, wherever the winds or tides of passion or of circumstance bore him, he meant to steer, as his guide over the troublous sea of politics. Beneath all the banners under which he had fought, in all the associations into which he had come ; in the hours of triumph and in the days of adversity ; in all moods of temper and in all transitions of mind ; in every alternation of phy- sical condition, there was 07ie sentiment constant and un- changed, and that was love of Virginia. His imagination, fervid and poetic, dwelt lovingly amidst the scenes and the incidents of her past glory ; for it was Virginia, as she was in her youth, in the days of her loosely-held colonial depen- aence— Virginia, as she was when, heroically, in the old English spirit, her planters, with the pride of the Barons holding council and dictating terms to John at Runnymede, rose to throw off the British yoke, yet preserved so much of the order and conservatism of English institutions, even in the very acts of resistance and . revolution ; it was the 325 Virgini? of the freeholders ruled by the gentry, cherishing her talent and exulting in the virtues and renown of her great men, that won the affection, and drew out the rever- ence of her gloriously-gifted son. His veneration for her made her very defects seem virtues to his idolatrous eyes. She was a model. He resented, as little short of impiety, any alterations in her government or laws. Every propo- sition for reform he considered as an invitation to a dese- cration of the sacred labors of his fathers. As in a lover's eyes, so in his, blemishes apparent to all others were beau- ties. Proo-ress was a name for ruin and destruction, and the desire to remodel her Constitution the idea of Vandals or Jacobins. It was his love for Virginia that survived the last, as it lived the strongest, of his affections. Like the Venetian exile's, his heart never beat for Virginia, but with such yearning as The dove has for her distant nest. But with what feelings could he think of the government, which, according to his idea, was before too strong, enlarged into the colossal structure of almost imperial power and grandeur ; the state governments playing, like satellites, around the great central sun ? Jackson had got between the politicians and the people. It is true, to a limited extent, that they had introduced him. It is true, that they had contributed to impress him upon the public mind. They had been profuse of eulogiums upon his character. They had exhausted commendation upon him. But they could not recall the impression they had made. 326 JACKSON AND CLAY. and they -had made him greater than themselves. They had a good deal mistaken their own power and popularity, after Jacksonism came into fashion. They thought they had made it^ when they were but made hy it. They were floating upon it as drift-wood, while they vainly thought they were giving motion to its resistless current. Its proud waves would not be stayed at their bidding, but dashed to destruction, amidst the rocks and breakers, those who sought to turn and buffet the raging flood. Many politicians experienced the truth of this observa- tion. Many, who before the Jackson era, had flourished as pachas in their local demesnes, found to their sorrow, that they had raised up a Sultan, who could bow-string them at pleasure, for a word of contumacy or an act of rebellion against his authority. Nor was it different with principles. These had been the shibboleths with which they had passed the disputed defiles of politics ; but now they were nullified by a new watchword. The political conjurers found the old cabalistic phrases of " State-Rights," " Reform," and the like, superseded by the modern cry of " Hurrah for Jack- son ! " Jackson had got into the hearts of the people, and the unreasoning affection for the man was stronger with the masses than the wise words of the politicians' argumentation. Principles are hard to understand, but sympathy and pas- sion work their way without troubling the brain for thought or research for facts. The first are spontaneous productions ; the last only come after cultivation and labor. The masses prefer the indigenous articles. CHAPTER III. Ecmoval of the Dtposits— Jackson's Critical Position— His Iron Nerve— Eemoval of Dnane— The "Whig Partj'— Union of the Purse and the Sword— Difference between the English and American Goyernments— Jackson's Charges against the United States Bank— His Issue before the People— The Conduct of the Bank— Biddle— His Blunders— Commercial Distress— Jackson's Tact— His Appeal to the Farmers— Effect of the Deposits on the State Banks— Increase of Banks and Paper Money— Error of the Democratic Party— Jackson's Triumph— The Mone- tary and Speculatiye Excesses of 1835-36— The Specie Circular— Its Effects. It has been thought strange, that even a popularity, so strong and so consolidated as Jackson's, could have with- stood the powerful opposition arrayed against him, upon the bold measure of the Removal of the Deposits from the United States Bank. Calhoun's coalition with the National Republicans, was certainly something gained to the opposition ; but Calhoun and his congressional friends brought more talent than numbers. It might have been supposed, too, that the character of the measure, suc- ceeding, as it did, other measures strongly federal, would have brought against the President the influence of the State- Rights party. This was the case to a considerable extent. 328 JACKSON AND CLAY. Many, who did not desert the President on the question of the Proclamation, but who were cooled by that measure, deserted him now. But the State-Rights party had opposed the Bank ; and it was not easy to persuade the people, who go for results, and do not very curiously scan the means, that any conduct towards a rotten, corrupt, and unconstitutional bank, was not proper, or, if improper, deserved severe repre- hension ; and, thus, the aid of those who made such admis- sions, was not very great. The first impression made by the opposition was encour- aging to them. The speeches in the Senate were echoed back by the proceedings of public meetings, all over the country. There seemed to be a general uprising of the trading and mechanical classes, especially in the large com- mercial cities. They passed resolutions disapproving of the removal of the deposits, and petitioned for their restoration. Memo- rials, with innumerable signatures, were gotten up to the same effect. The times grew hard. A great pressure occur- red in the money circles. Clamor and excitement reigned in Wall street, and on the Exchanges of the Atlantic cities ; panic and consternation took the place of confidence and con- tentment amongst the tradesmen ; failure upon failure suc- ceeded ; the banks ceased to discount, and some of them closed doors ; the business of large towns languished and declined ; and thousands of workmen were thrown out of employment. The friends of the President deserted him by regiments. The politicians turned pale, and hesitated, and Jackson's critical position. 329 looked for a soft place to fall down upon, or broke into open revolt. The enemies of the President took heart, and made a bold assault upon him and his course. Committees from the cities filled the lobbies of the Senate and the Represen- tative Hall, and waited in formal state upon the President. All would not do. He stood like a rock, unshaken and un- moved. He did not arouse himself to meet the crisis. He was always ready for it. He was but the calmer for the storm. They told him all who traded on borrowed capital must break. He knocked the ashes from his pipe, and calmly remarked that all who traded on borrowed capital ought to break. He heard with sober attention all they had to say, and merely observed, that his mind was made up. Nothing but Jackson's nerve saved him. If he had flinched or sought to conciliate opposition, or to compromise with the Bank, or even had he contented himself with a defensive attitude, he would have lost the day. The Senate was against him, and the tone of Clay was triumphant, ex- ultiug, and full of confidence and hope. But the very bold- ness of the measure was Jackson's protection. The courage that leads a man into danger is his best shield against it. Jackson had taken the responsibility. He had come out from behind all entrenchments. He exposed his whole front. He had done a bold thing boldly, and in the light of day. Like a brave man who goes out on a dangerous expedition, he refused to ask any one to be the companion of the enter- prise. He hazarded every thing. So far as appeared, he could make nothing by success. He might lose every thing 330 JACKSON AND CLAY. by failure. He was not sure of his own party. Indeed, his Secretary refused to obey him ; the Congress of his friends had pronounced against him on the propriety of the re- moval, and, indeed, it seems, he had little confidence that they would reverse that judgment ; for he did not wait for the few weeks to elapse when they would assemble again. The Bank was still a powerful influence. It had many Demo- cratic friends in Congress. It would make a fierce struggle, and seek to regain, in resistance to this movement, the ground it was losing under the veto. Jackson saw the whole ground, and was prepared for the worst. It was the boldest and most hazardous enterprise of his life. He stood alone, or with only Blair and one or two other friends at his back. He had in " The Globe;' though, good backing as far as one man— himself, in his way, a host — could make it. He ordered the Secretary of the Treasury to remove the deposits ; but Duane refused. Here was a new difficulty. If Duane resigned, the President could appoint another man in his place. But Duane would not re- sign. Jackson removed him ; and having made up his mind to carry this measure, he would have removed all the officers in the government, if they had stood between him and his purpose. When the whig party was formed, it was a critical period for the President. It not only combined new element of opposition, but the name— and " names are things " in politics— was an old and venerable one, and around it gathered many associations of the most stirring interest. It THE PURSE AND THE SWORD. 331 was based, too, upon the old principle, which, as well in England, as in our own country, had marked the line of division between the advocates of executive prerogative and power, and the champions of popular or legislative privilege ; and it was claimed, with at least a color of truth, that, in these bold measures, affecting the money of the nation, the legislative department, to which its custody and expenditure belonged, had been invaded by an act of the executive, which assumed the control and disposition of the public treasure. It was charged that the President had, by his conduct, fulfilled the definition Patrick Henry gave of a tyrant, by uniting in his own hands the purse and the sword. It remained to see what effect would be given to this revival of the old English and American revolutionary name, supported, as it was, by this plausible title to it, on the part of the enemies of the administration. It is true that the great characteristics of English parties, running through so many centuries, and still dividing them, were the rival principles, one of which sought to limit the power of the executive, and to give power to the legislature, and the other, to strengthen the executive, at the expense of the legislature. But, it must be remembered, that our Con- stitution is widely different from the British form. The throne is independent of the people. The king is neither elected by the people, nor, within the constitution, remova- ble by them, nor responsible to them. His interests may be adverse to theirs. His power, whenever increased, derives its accessions from their liberties and rights. The commons 332 JACKSON AND CLAY. are their only representatives. But, in our form, the pxo sidential chair rests upon the same basis as the seat of the member of Congress. The President stands even nearer to the people than the Senator. He owes his oflScial existence to the people ; he holds office for a limited term — practically he is disqualified from holding it for more than eight years ; he came from the people, and he goes back, like any other citizen, to live and die amongst the people. He is, before his election and after it, an object of peculiar interest. He must have been kno\yn, and favorably known, to his country- men. He is talked of, his character and merits canvassed, his history, and services, and qualities, discussed in every neighborhood, nay, at every fireside, in the Republic. He stands forth, therefore, in bold relief. He comes accredited to the people by the popular endorsement, and by the pres- tige of success. It is vain to talk to a confiding people, whose affections are, at least, as strong as their judgments ; who arc not politicians, and who do not look forward from abstract dogmas to far-off results, that it is their duty to be jealous and suspicious of him whom they have just trusted with the highest proof of their confidence and regard. It is very true that the sentiment of liberty has grown with us into a passion. But liberty is a very indefinite term, and conveys a very vague meaning, until some overt act, coming home to the people, gives it an interpretation. That sort of liberty, which is invaded in the small beginnings — in the cautious encroachments of tyranny, feeling its way gradually to ungranted and unlawful dominion — the seed- Jackson's charges against the bank. 333 acts, from which spring up, at a distant day, a harvest of errors and precedents of evil — these it requires sharper acumen than the masses possess, to see at the right time, and in their real character. For example — what invasion was it — they asked — of tJieir liberty, for the President to remove the public money from the Bcuik, a wholesale shaving- shop, to other places of deposit? Besides, Jackson always had the sagacity to disguise his strong measures in popular forms. Whether his acts were always popular or not, his reasoning always was. Whether his proceedings were despotic or not, he defended them upon the principles and in the name of freedom. It was the Bank, he charged, that was the tyrant. It was seeking to overturn the government, and to enslave and cor- rupt the people. It was buying up members of Congress, and subsidizing the press. It was producing the panic and pressure, which disordered commerce, and crippled industry, and turned out labor to starve, in order to force upon the people its own financial system, and a renewal of its existence. It had violated its charter. It had closed its doors against investigation. It had been false to its contracts. It had ex- pended vast sums of money in electioneering schemes and practices against the government. It had assumed a tone of haughty insolence towards the President, as disrespectful to the office as to the incumbent. Its president lived in a style be- fitting a prince of the blood royal. From his palace of An- dalusia he came to his marble palace in Philadelphia, to issue his ukases which caused the stocks to rise and fall all over 334 JACKSON AND CLAY. . the world. He was the Money King — " the despot with the quill behind his ear," whom John Randolph said he feared more than a tyrant with epaulettes. He could make money plentiful or scarce, property high or low, men rich or poor, as he pleased. He could reward and he could punish ; could set up and pull down. His favor was wealth, his enmity ruin. He was a government, over which the people had no control. Thus, it will be seen, with what exquisite tact the Presi- dent presented the issue to the people. It was the issue of a powerful money oligarchy, in its last- struggles for power denied by the people, warring against the government the people had set up. Jackson stood the impersonation of the popular sovereignty, warring against an usurping moneyed institution — an enormous shaving-shop. St. George and the Dragon was only the ante-type of Jackson and the Mon- ster! The truth is, that what Jackson lacked of material to make head against the Bank, the Bank more than supplied. Biddie, its president, seems to have been a worse politician than financier. From the first hostile demonstration of the President, to the final explosion of the new institution, into which the assets and management of the National Bank were carried, the whole series of movements was a series of blun- ders and follies. If the Bank had been bent upon ruin, it could have taken no surer method of suicide. The opposition of its friends in Congress to an investigation into its afi'airs ; its contribu- tions towards the publication of political papers and pamph- JACKSON AND BIDDLE. lets ; its large loans to newspaper editors, and to members of Congress ; the immense extension of its line of discounts — these things, however innocent, naturally gave rise to sus- picion, and suspicion, in its case, was conviction. The tone it adopted in its report, towards the President, or, rather, towards the paper sent to the cabinet, signed " Andrew Jackson," was in as bad taste as policy. The truth is, the President of the Bank greatly underrated the President of the United States. Jackson was a much abler man than Biddle supposed. The unlearned man of the backwoods knew the ^Vmerican people better than the erudite scholar of the refined metropolis. The tenant of the Hermitage was, by all odds, a wiser politician than the lord of the princely demesnes of Andalusia. It is true that the crisis was a sharp one. Great distress was felt, great clamor was raised, immense excitement pre- vailed. The storm burst suddenly, too, and with tropical fury. The President's friends fell off like autumnal leaves in a hurricane. The party leaders grew anxious ; many of them were panic-stricken, and some of them deserted ; but the pilot at the helm stood like another Palinurus in the storm. The distress was confined mostly to the commercial cities. Jackson's reliance was mainly on the rural districts, and, luckily for him, these contained the great mass of the population, devoted to the calm and independent pursuit of husbandry, and devoted to him. The farmers were, to a great extent, independent of banks and free of debt, and de- pending for support upon the sale of nepessaries, which gen- 336 JACKSON AND CLAY. erally command, under all states of the money market, re- munerating prices. That there was great distress could not be denied. But whose fault was it ? The Bank laid the blame on the Presi- dent ; the President laid it on the Bank. Which was to be believed ? The immediate cause was the conduct of the Bank in withdrawing its circulation ; but this was made necessary, it was said, by the withdrawal of the public money. This was denied ; and it was charged that the Bank had, by the unnecessary and corrupt extension of its discounts and ac- commodations, put itself into the necessity of this sharp mea- sure of protection, even if such necessity existed. But relief was at hand. The deposits were placed in the vaults of the state-banks. The United States Bank was out of the way. The funds of the government, overflow- ing in all its channels of revenue, became the feeders to numberless Bogus banks all over the country. Bank charters multiplied in the land. A state of almost fabulous prosperi- ty, as it seemed, set in. The revolution went back for the first time. But the calm was worse than the storm — the prosperity worse than the adversity. And here was the great, and, for a time as it turned out, the fatal error of the Democratic party. It had not provided for the exigencies it created. The United States Bank was put down, but where was the substitute ? The Bank had been the fiscal, agent of the government, in fact the treasury ; what was to succeed to its duties ? If the public money was not safe in the United States Bank, it could scarcely be considered safe MONETARY EXCESSES OF 1835-6. 337 in the various shin-plaster concerns, that had sprung up, like frocr-stools, all over the Union; nor could individuals, in such wild and uncertain times, especially without new re- strictions and securities, be intrusted with the enormous sums coming into the hands of the government, when every man was a speculator, and every speculation seemed a for- tune ! It could scarcely have escaped the sagacity of the politicians, who were inveighiDg, every day, against the evils of the credit and paper systems, that this enormous bank- ing, so suddenly and prodigiously increased, must, at no distant day, lead to a monetary crisis, which, compared with that following the removal of the deposits, would be like a hurricane to a zephyr. But no adequate safeguard was pro- vided. Present peace was purchased at the expense of future overthrow ; and it was bequeathed to Mr. Van Buren to reap the whirlwind, from the wind sown by his predecessor. But, for the present, the sky cleared again. Jackson rallied his hosts. He recovered his lost ground ; he regained his captured standards ; he cashiered the deserters, and in- spired throughout the country a fresher zeal for the party, and an almost superstitious conviction of his own invinci- bility. And now we had reached the climax of one of those prodigious hallucinations, which sometimes, like epidemics, sweep over nations, carrying before them all lessons of the past, all experience, reason, sagacity and common sense. The South Sea bubble, the Mississippi scheme in France, the wild years of 1818-19 in our own country, all added together, 15 338 JACKSON AND CLAY. scarcely paralleled, in their multiplied follies and chicanery, the monetary excesses of 1835-6. We need give but a few of the features : Bank paper, by the million of dollars, rest- ing on no foundation better than insolvent promises ; an unlimited credit system, inflated to the utmost tension of speculation, without calculation as to means or results ; an universal indebtedness, with no medium of payment except paper credits, liable, nay, certain, at the first challenge of their soundness, to prove worthless ; an extravagance, in modes of living, forbidden by prudence to wealth, yet in- dulged in by poverty ; enormous importations of goods, bought on credit, and sold, to the sixth remove, on credit ; indebtedness by every state and by every corporation, for all it could borrow to make impossible railroads, and to navi- gate unnavigable rivers ; while the whole nett product of the country would scarcely pay the interest on its debt ; and this apparently, but a starting point for other enterprises and operations still more magnificent ; the whole country turned out to speculation and fortune-hunting; prices up fourfold, and going still higher every day ; every channel and depart- ment of commerce or speculation foaming with the rushing tides of adventure, and every highway teeming with adven- turers, swarming in hordes over the land. It seemed as if a new chapter had opened in history, and that the world had been let out of the school of common sense for a holiday of wild commercial insanity. At the height of this mardi-gras, and in the agony of this wild sport, Gen. Jackson threw down the specie circu- THE SPECIE CIRCULAR. 339 lar. The blow was as sudden as it was effectual. In itself it amounted to no great deal. It required specie for gov- ernment debts, which any creditor has a right to demand. Gold and silver, to the amount of a few millions, were seem- ingly no hard requisition on banks that had promised to pay hundreds of millions on demand. But the circular was as effectual as an injunction in chancery not only on the banks, but on every body in trade. It caused examination ; it called a halt ; men began to take their latitude. It was found they were far out at sea. The confidence of the public was broken. The sole capital of the banks was this confidence, and confidence was now gone. A rush — a sus- pension — a failure — a crash from Maine to Louisiana, in- volving ruin, and all the evils which attend the failures of those who seek by mendacity to prevent the results of folly. In any other country, this prodigious shock would have produced a revolution. Perhaps even here it would have done so, had the ultimate effects of the measure been seen, and had revolution promised any relief But it remained to be seen how much might yet be saved from the wreck. The suspension of business was as instantaneous as it would be in Boston, if, suddenly, all the railways were taken up, and the telegraphic wires torn down. The shock was so sharp and quick that men had no time for remonstrance or oppo- sition ; and the first moment of cool reflection to an old trader made him feel as ridiculous as an old Calvinistlc di- vine would feel, if, stung by a tarantula and dancing a minuet with the simpering airs of a gallant, he suddenly recovered to a true sense of his situation. CHAPTER IV. Jackson's Second Term— Yan Baren Elected President— Commercial Distress- Party Excitement— Ilarrisons Election and Deatli— Tyler's Administration- Clay's Defeat— Jackson's Death— Ilis Achievements and Character. The second term of Gen. Jackson's administration was mark- ed with stirring and startling events. Never, probably, in times of peace, were crowded, into so sbort a period, so many acts and movements, fraught with all the incidents and excitements of war. Washington City resembled the head-quarters of a commanding general. The whole series of measures affecting the currency — the exciting episode of the French difficulty — the South Carolina business — the distribution of the proceeds of the public lands — the collision with the Senate — Jackson's triumph over it by the passage of the expunging' resolutions ; these and other measures, coming in quick succession, occupied the public mind, and furnished fuel for continual excitement. We have spoken of the Compromise and of the agency of Clay in effecting that momentous measure, upon which hung the peace and the integrity of the nation. This agency was most important to his character. It redeemed him THE WHIG PARTi". 341 from the old charge, in the estimation of those who had been most active and influential in urging it against him. It made him friends in a quarter where, before, he had only enemies. It presented him before the whole nation in an aspect at once of power and of goodness ; as a magnanimous man and a public benefactor ; and it prepared the way for a co-operation with those, who were to be, afterwards, his most efficient allies. The removal of the deposits furnished an occasion, which was ably improved, for one of those lofty and impassioned appeals to the hearts of his countrymen, which, better than any other of his countrymen, he could make. Affairs had now changed. The re-action of Gen, Jack- son's popularity in particular sections, and, to some extent, over the whole Union, created a corresponding re-action in favor of Clay. A new generation of statesmen and voters was springing up. The young and enthusiastic, such poten- tial allies in a political contest, caught the contagion of the spirit of opposition to usurpation and tyranny, as it was call- ed, which the fervid genius of Clay evoked. The great in- tellects of the nation, whose eloquence has now become clas- sic, were co-operating in the Senate and the Lower House, and lending the aid of their various and powerful abilities to the cause of opposition. The wniG party began to be or- ganized. It had the major part of the intellect on its side. It called that intellect, wherever it could do so, into the public service. The public councils of the nation exhibited more of talent than they had ever known before. The great age of eloquence had come. In the Senate alone, a profound 342 JACKSON AND CLAY. and various ability was found, such as, at any other post- revolutionary period, all the departments of the government together could cot muster. In the House, Clay had a brilliant staff, young, fire-eyed enthusiasts, bold, daring, resolute, charging the very heights of power, and eager for the fray with the enemy. The com- mercial interest, the old manufacturing interest, the State- Kights party, the conservative interest, the old-fogy anti- military party, were now banded together; and, to give greater volume to the stream, that section of the original friends of Jackson, who desired the election of Judge White to the Presidency, instead of Mr. Van Buren, the presidential favorite, united with the opposition. Such a combination would seem to be invincible; but it was not. The oppo sition divided, and Jacksonism, rallying as Gen. Jackson would have rallied in the field to charge the opening ranks of an enemy, carried the day. Gen. Jackson's career closed '' in triumph over all his enemies," and he threw his mantle, as he retired, upon the shoulders of his lieutenant. His sun set grand and lurid, but with the dun, ominous aspect that betokens a coming storm. But the election of 1836, showed the opposition its un- derrated strength, and rescued the struggle with the revived hopes of the assailants. In the mean time, the clouds had thickened, and the terrible storm which seemed to be waiting only for the old thunderer to retire, began to blow upon the country like a tropical hurricane. No such period as that awful one of monetary panic and commercial disaster MARTIN VAN BUREN. 343 had ever before visited the nation. Scarcely yet recovered from its effects, we remember it with the vivid recollection of a fresh and horrible catastrophe. Mr. Van Buren was inaugurated just as the embarrass- ments of the country were beginning to be felt in their first spasms of acute distress. The little Sybarite, looking out from the terrace of the White House, " perfumed like a mil- liner,'' saw trees dancing on their heads, and* the air filled with missiles, and the waves rising mountain-high, and heard the whistle of the tornado, and felt the ground rocking like an earthquake all around him. It were a curious thing to have seen how the old chief would have met this great crisis. Could he have weathered the storm, the achievement would have been the brightest illustration of his genius. What course he would have taken, we cannot know ; but we know what he would not have done. He would not have con- tented himself with holding on by one hand and fending off with the other. The administration of Van Buren was a long stag- ger and a fall. Its enemies pushed on their batteries against the citadel ; they sat down before it ; they cut off his supplies ; they dug a trench around him and battered down his walls. The campaign of 1840 opened, and it was obvious to all calm observers that the chances were greatly in favor of the opposition. The Harrisburg Convention met. The country had unequivocally pronounced in favor of Clay, and it was supposed that the only purpose of the Con- vention was to announce the popular decision. Clay 344 JACKSON AND CLAY. evidently expected the nomination ; and his friends congra tulated themselves that the long-delayed hour of his triumph had come. Contrary to all expectation, the nomination of the politicians fell upon another — Gen. Harrison — a good, brave, kind-hearted old man, but whose whole brains could have been hid under Clay's bump of comparison. If Clay felt the disappointment, he did not show- it. His voice was the 'first heard in ratification. The nomination seemed at first to shock the public mind ; but it was only the shock of the rail-car as it starts on its rushing course. Clay took the field for his rival. The people rose almost en masse. The whole country was divided, as if in civil war, into hostile factions. Banners flouted the sky ; the air rang with acclamations ; the people met in armies ; the pur- suits of business were neglected for the strife and strivings of political canvassing ; and an excitement careered over the land, which, in any other country, would have drenched it in blood, and upheaved the government from its founda- tion stones. Tennessee was wrested from the spell of Jack- sonism ; and, at Nashville, a multitude, which no man might number, composed of the old enemies of Clay, hung upon his accents, and, as he denounced the principles and mea- sures of Jacksonism, rent the air with thunder-shouts of ap- plause, which invaded even the peace of the Hermitage. So near came the old rivals, that they hurled upon each other scorn and crimination. The result we know. Harrison came into office upon a sea-tide of popularity. A month passed. He died and was succeeded. The funeral meats DEFEAT OF CLAY AND THE WHIGS. 345 furnished forth the banquet of the enemy. The Whig po- licy was defeated by the veto of its own President, and Whig spirit and Whig principles were paralyzed. This was the bitterest cup Clay ever drained. Yet he did not despond. He rallied and cheered his broken forces. He bore himself as loftily as ever—nay, more loftily. The party, though shorn of much of its strength, was still powerful. It had still the capacity to win another victory on old issues. It met in convention, and, this time, it made sure of its man. The cowardly policy of indirection and conciliation was discarded. The real leader was put at the head of the army. The Democratic party, with its wonder- ful recuperative energies, was reanimated and resuscitated, and already in the field panting for an opportunity of aveng- ing its late defeat. The Democratic people had indicated a preference for Van Buren ; but the opposition to him, arising out of his antirUexas opinions, induced the managers to throw the political Jonah overboard, to appease the rag- ing elements. Another was nominated, with a new issue. And all men felt that the great struggle, for life or death, was now to be fought out between the two great parties. The battle was fought with a resolution worthy of the stake. Clay lost it, and, with the old leader, went down the distinc- tive principles of the party he had built up, sustained and lived for ; and the last hope of its permanent ascendency was extinguished for ever. Shortly after the induction of the new administration, Jackson died. He died at peace with the world, in which 346 JACKSON AxVD CLAY. he had been so prominent an actor, forgiving all his ene* mies, the last and greatest of whom was his early rival ; an act of Christian grace, tasking his renewed temper, as he declared, to its most difficult exercise. He yielded bim sub- missively to the only foe to whom he had ever submitted, in all his long and stormy career. The grave closed over him, as over meaner victims, and he rested, at a patriarchal age, from his heady conflicts. " After life's fitful fever he sleeps well," by the side of her to whom, through life, in manhood and in age, and for whose memory after her death, through all the tumultuous scenes and stirring exigencies of his eventful career, he had clung with a fond and doting tenderness. Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, is the universal and inevitable doom. Thus passed from the world one of the most remarkable men, who, in all the generations of mankind, ever made his mark upon his age. It is vain to d5ny to Jackson a title to greatness. He achieved great things, and won a succes- sion of splendid triumphs, unequalled in the history of any man, save one, of his generation. He achieved them, not by the force of accident, but because of the power within him. It is idle to discuss the ability or the merits of a man, who, in different, and these the highest, departments Df human enterprise, succeeds, not in one department or in one measure, but in all departments and in all things throughout a long succession of years and of struggles, against the greatest and most various opposition. Such suc- cesses do not come by chance. But if we will not take this Jackson's achievements. 8i7 general conclusion, let us look to particulars. What did he accomplish ? He raised himself, in a profession, of all others, the least suited to his genius, at a time of life, when men of real merit are only preparing themselves for local distinction, to the offices of Attorney-Greneral and of Judge ; and when the scene changed from peace to war, he rose at once to the post of General, and, in a few months, won the most brilliant successes and the brightest laurels of the war, and placed himself side by side with the great captains of the world. He took his seat in the Senate of the United States. He was soon the strongest candidate before the peo- ple for President, bearing the palm from the veteran poli- ticians and established statesmen of the country. Defeated in the House by the politicians, he turned defeat into vic- tory, and established upon it a sure and lasting ascendency. He was lifted by the strongest tide of personal popularity to the first office of his country, and held power against an Opposition more powerful than ever before assailed an admi- nistration. But he did much more than this. He impress- ed his name and character upon the country more deeply than any man, the father of his country only excepted, ever did before or after him. He gave a fresh and awakening influence to the popular mind, threw oflf the influence of old politicians, and started the government and the people on- ward in a new and more impulsive career. He opened a new era in American politics, with new measures, new ideas, and new statesmen. He founded a party, more perfect in its orga- nization, and more lasting in its influence, than any before es- 348 JACKSON AND CLAY. tablished, giving its own line of statesmen, and its own course of policy to the country ; a party from which was to rise a stronger influence upon the world, and the indefinite increase of the wealth, territory, and population of the Republic. He consolidated the strength and energies of the govern- ment ; made it formidable, feared, and respected by foreign powers ; insomuch that he addressed the head of the second power of Europe, with the imperious tone of a rich creditor pursuing a bilking bankrupt, and forced him to a settlement of a claim, upon an open threat of chastisement. He found a confederacy — he left an empire. He altered the monetary system of the government — struck down the Bank of the United States — raised up and sustained the State Banks, and finally blew them up as so many torpedoes ; and, for a time, nearly abolished the whole credit system of a great trading people. He struck down the doctrines of State Rights, in their sanctions and substance, and in their strong- holds, and with them the flower of the disciples of thaf school, to which he had, in great part, owed his elevation ; and he established national doctrines, which placed the government on the basis vainly contended for by Wash- ington and Marshall. He subdued the Senate. He placed his rejected minister at its head. It rebuked his course. He made it draw black lines around its records. And he raised up another president, if not two, to rule after him ; and continued after his retirement, and to the close of his life, the ruling spirit of his own party. This he did without the aid of the politicians; for he needed nc JACKSON AND CALHOUN. 349 conduit between himself and the people. He operated directly upon the public mind. Indeed, the most popular man of his followers held his popularity on the tenure of his will. Desertion of him and his cause was popular ostracism. If he were powerful enough to raise up whom he chose, he was powerful enough to put down whom he chose. His name and his influonce were as pervasive as the atmosphere. It fixed the selection and promotion of the cabinet minister even of the President, and also of the lowest ofl&cial of an obscure municipality. Calhoun was sitting upon the comfortable perch of the Vice-Presidency, thinking no harm, evidently quite con- tent with the prospect before him. It was seemingly a good time for him. ^ His foible was not supposed to be a criminal indifference, much less an unconquerable aversion, to the high posts of the public service. He was young, just reach- ing the meridian glory of faculties equal to the discharge of any civic duty to which he could be called. He had already won the highest distinction ; and he had won it without calling into exercise half the talent he possessed. Jackson was in the heyday of a popularity such as no man of his country, its father and founder only excepted, had ever held ; and he was Jackson's lieutenant ; and yet, so unexception- ably had he borne himself, that though identified with the administration, and its early supporter, he had given no offence to the opposition. Indeed, he had run upon its ticket, too, for Vice President. State-Rights doctrines were in the ascendant, and the Executive countenance shone 350 JACKSON AND CLAY. kindly upon them and their supporters. The long-sighted politicians had begun to look upon the Vice President and fawn around him, as the successor ! Clay was under the ban. The man of Braintree, like a greater, was on his ocean rock. Crawford was a paralytic. Who and what stood between Calhoun and Dwight's prediction, or rather the fulfilment of it ? Serenely, we may imagine him, gazing through the bow-window of the Capitol, up towards the building at the other end of the avenue, and bethinking him that only a few more years, with all the accidents which might shorten that period in his favor, stood between him and the golden guerdon for which so many hearts were fever- ing. Jackson's angry stamp disturbed the reverie, and, with that stamp, the platform fell beneath him, and he dropped down a thousand feet into the political charnel house below ! Where were now the legions of friends with whom his slightest utterance was the definition of a proverb, " the con- densed wisdom of a nation ? " He counted them at break of day, But when the sun set, where were they? The man who offended Jackson was doomed. Like a mighty Nimrod, he threw his lariat from the Capitol, and throttled and brought down to death or submission the most powerful senators, even at the remotest corners of the Eepub- lie. Talent, and genius, and learning, and eloquence, and statesmanship cordoned themselves around him in strenuous warfare ; but his single arm, like Murat's on the Mount of 351 Transfiguration, rolled back the brilliant charge and left him still unhurt — not a feather of his plume awry — and in pos- session of the heights of power. And, finally, according to T F. Marshall, when he was about quitting the world, he turned Presbyterian, and trampled Satan under foot, the last, and perhaps the great- est of his victories ! It may well be doubted if the records of ancient or of modern times exhibit to us a name, more distinguished for sublime and unfaltering courage, than that of Andrew Jackson. He never seemed to rise to, but ever to stand level with, the loftiest exigencies. There was nothing in the shape of dan- ger or responsibility which he feared to brave — not to meet merely, but to go in quest of — not to endure, but to defy and to master. He was chary of his fame. He loved applause ; but when did he pause in the execution of a pur- pose to count its cost to his reputation ? Did he ever falter when the chivalry and flower of his early and later support- ers deserted his banner by battalions? If 'any thing can appal a politician's heart or stay his hand, it is civil war. But, in the case of South Carolina, he contemplated that result and prepared for it, with the coolness and determina- tion of a common-place business matter. He stood forth a peculiar and original man, in the great attribute of conceiv- ing and executing purposes and plans, from the very contem- plation of which common-place politicians shrink in dismay. Yet one thing this great man lacked. He lacked the crowning virtue of magnanimity. Generosity towards a per 352 JACKSON AND CLAY. sonal or political enemy, and charity for opposing opinion, were not numbered among the virtues in his calendar. We are pained to be forced by truth to say that the hero's char- acter, of such robust and stalwart proportions, and vital with such massive and masculine strength, was incomplete. Like some Gothic tower, dimly seen by star-light, it leaves the impression of power akin to the terrific and sublime ; but wants the mild and softening light of this absent grace to make it lovely to the contemplation and dear to the heart. We turn from the Man of Progress to the Man of Conservatism, from the Man of War to the Man of Peace. CHAPTER V. Clay in the Senate— His Patriotic Course— Compromise of 1S50— Analysis of Clay's Character- His-Eank as a Statesman— Compared with Calhoun and Webster- His Death. The war with Mexico ended, the questions to which it mediately gave rise transferred the scene of contention to our own country. As this collision was coming on apace, an opportunity came for electing a Whig President ; for the New-York politician held one of the arms of the Democracy in the fight. But gunpowder again prevailed. The old claims of the civilian were laid aside for the fresh pretensions of the soldier. The old trick of an inexpedient expediency was revived, and the last chance of electing Clay to the Presi- dency thrown away. But, though denied the first office, he was not denied the first position, in the country. That he held by the grace of God, and without the leave of the politicians. Soon was the value of his position to be tested ; for the great sectional contest, awaiting only measures of practical legislation in regard to the newly-acquired territory, now broke out in all 354 JACKSON AND CLAY. its fury. The danger of this conflict brought Mr, Clay from his retirement, to the national councils. He occupied now his true and natural position. He was no longer a candidate for the first office. He was out of the dust and strife of the arena. He was not an object of pro- fitable assault to the politicians. Slander might well afi'ord to intermit its labors of hatred, and prejudice could pause to take a calmer view of his history and character. It is surprising how soon the old calumnies died out ; and how soon the great and shining attributes of the illustrious patriot caught and fixed the gaze of his countrymen, of all sections and divisions, however before alienated from him. The truth is, that Clay was hated more from fear than from contempt, or rather, there could be no such thing as con- tempt or scorn for such a man. His chivalrous and lofty carriage made men respect, even while they hated him. His countrymen were always secretly proud of him, and, in the great crises of the country, felt a confidence in his wisdom and skilful pilotage which they felt in no other. He came now on a national errand. He had sunk the partisan. Modes of administration were a small question, compared to the question of the preservation of the country. The mat- ter in hand now was no less an issue than the dismember- ment of empire. The grave difficulties, which stood in the way of a settlement of the sectional disturbances inflaming the public mind, had foiled the wisdom of all who had essay- ed to adjust them. They seemed, indeed, to be impossible of adjustment. Fifteen State legislatures, in the Free DOMESTIC AFFAIRS IN 1850. 355 States, had instructed their representatives to insist on the Wilmot Proviso. The Slave States, with equal unaniniitj, had declared their intention to resist such a measure as an act of dissolution. The public mind had become deeply excited. Sectional parties were becoming more and more inflamed. Crimination and recrimination, insult and obloquy, gross personalities, furious invective, scorn and defiance, were the staple of familiar public and private discourse. The inherent difficulties of the question were even more formidable than these external hindrances to its settlement. The old half healed, half-covered sore of the slavery question was tortured and lacerated again by the rough fanaticism of the North ; and the South, proud and sensitive, as of old, was goaded to the last point of patient endurance. The patriot's heart sank within him at the prospect. It was a dark time for the Republic — the darker because a desire for the ad- justment of these fearful questions seemed to depart with hope. At this juncture, Henry Clay took his seat in the Senate. His very presence there was an event in the political history of the country. The old light was on his lofty brow, and in his eye and in his voice were the fire and the spell which could yet save his country. He seemed, in view of the new work before him, to breathe another youth. With the wis- dom of his ripe age, he seemed to have caught from the past the vigor and the prime of his meridian fire. There was patriotism enough in the country to save it ; but it was a dormant patriotism. Clay waked it up. Clay was the me- K - 356 JACKSON AND CLAY. dium that poured the electric current of the people upon the politicians and the public councils. Never before had he fully shown himself the man God had made him. For fifty years, he had never found a rival for a whole session, as an orator and leader in a deliberative assembly ; but men had compared him to himself, and had noted how far he was, in this speech or that, from his high-water mark of excellence. Now he was above himself — above where the flood of his sweeping and surge-like eloquence had ever gone before. As a mere orator, he left the great deeds of his youth and mid- dle age behind. But his oratory was the least remarkable of his claims to attention and gratitude. He was eloquent in every thing — instinct with eloquence, as if possessed by its spirit — in movement — in manner — in writing — in speech — in tone — above all, perhaps, in social intercourse transfusing himself into others ; now in the closet, now at the mess table, now in the committee room, in the drive, on the street, every where — in every way — seeking no repose— wanting none — it was the fever and fanaticism of soul that carried him with but one object before him — and yet that fever and fa- naticism presided over by a judgment and a tact that never forsook and never misled him. All know the result. All know how he passed through the long agony of glory and of triumph. He conquered and the Union lived. Fate awarded him ample justice at the last. He had linked the most brilliant passages of his life to the Union ; the last link of the chain, too, he threw around its pillar. clay's ouaracter. 357 His eloquent life was brought to its peroration, and that pe roration was, as in his great speeches, the most beautiRil, the grandest, the most eloquent of all its parts. He could retire now. Why linger " superfluous on the stage ? " His sun, trembling on the verge of the horizon, like a tropical sun, gorgeous, yet with a solemn and sacred aspect, magnified even beyond his size at noon, might now go down without a cloud or shadow, lighting up all the sky around with rays of marvellous glory long after he had set ! It is charged upon Clay that he was overbeariDg and imperious, impatient of contradiction and opposition, defiant of his enemies and exacting towards his friends. He was called a dictator. We wish we could deny this charge. But we cannot. There is too much truth in it. Clay was constitutionally combative and aggressive. He had the go-a- head faculties in a morbid state of activity, both because they were large naturally, and because they were continually exercised. He was fond of victory for its own sake. His temper was high, hot and eager ; his impulses quick and strong ; his self-confidence supreme ; and his courage stub- born and invincible. The early part of his career had been a succession of triumphs, often where success is won, as in ancient warfare, by hand-to-hand conflicts, for immediate re- sults, and against emulous and bitter opposition. The rough school of the frontier, with men struggliog for posi tion and leadership, — to impress themselves upon the fluent mass of opinion, and to mould that opinion into policy— that wild and untempered society of young Kentucky, where the 358 JACKSON AND CLAY. strongest will and the boldest bearing were even more essen tial to success than the most vigorous and the best cultured intellect, made an impression upon his character which sub- sequent experiences only confirmed. The qualities which give a man what is called common-sense — the knowing, ob- serving, perceptive faculties, gave his mind a practical turn denied to most orators ; for Clay's business capacity, in every department of affairs, public or private — his memory, system, order, the facility with which he saw what was to be done, and how it was to be done, and the energy with which he did it, were, taken together, unequalled ; and this practi- cal turn made him more solicitous of results than fastidious of means, provided they were effectual. As a captain, thero is no prescribing what, under favoring circumstances, would have been either the measure of his abilities or the measure of his success. There was no more — and scarcely, if any, less — of the bull-dog hardihood and resolution of McDonald in him, than in Jackson ; but there was more of the out-com- ing, transfusing enthusiasm, and the show and brilliancy of Murat. We can imagine the effect of the tall figure and homely but expressive features, which identified him to the stranger among a thousand eminent men, in the thick of the fight, at the front of a charging column, or beneath the banner shaking over his head, throwing back in defiant impatience the lock of hair that was wont to fall over his brow, and which, when in the full tide of invective, he had a trick of tossing up, like the lion shaking his mane, as Cal- houn described it — we can imagine the effect of such a figure clay's temper. 359 and face, when, loaded like a battery with enthusiasm and energy, his unrivalled voice rang out a charge, or inspirited cowardice into heroism as a standard wavered before the hot pressure of the enemy. With these high military qualities, he united the military fault of being dictatorial. His temper was usually sweet, his animal spirits high, his disposition kind and generous. This was his sunny side. This was " Caesar in his tent that day he overcame the Nervii." But Caesar in the field against the Nervii, was a different man. Clay's resent- ments sometimes carried him into coarse vituperation — sometimes into injustice ; and, it must be confessed that he showed less forbearance towards his party friends or asso- ciates, temporary or general, than towards his regular party opponents ; for example, than towards "Wright, Buchanan and Forsyth. In this way, he injured himself, and he in- jured the "Whig party. He had always the power of carrying a great many persons, indeed, the large majority of his own party with him, in such attacks, and they left a sting which was not removed by the reconciliation that evaporated all bitterness from his own mind ; for the assailed felt injured by the assault, and usually had the worst of the engagement. That Clay struggled with this temper, and honestly endeavored to overcome it, and towards the last of his life, in some degree succeeded, must be granted him ; and he seeni.s, in his serene moments, to have felicitated himself on the happy facility of his temper, and the amiable meekness of his nature — as Sir Anthony Absolute had done before him ; but when the 360 JACKSON AND CLAY. lists opened, and the bugles sounded, the spirit which they aroused was something short of evangelical. He gave, with much better grace than he took, the railleries, sarcasms and covert allusions licensed by debate ; by which the malign spirit is draped, though not disguised, in the robes and gauze of rhetorical and complimentary phrase, and bitter things are said in sweet words. Nothing could be more delightful than the humorous displays of the ridiculous positions of his adversaries, or the sly, ironical cuts, he sometimes gave, in the shape of congratulations over their discomfitures. Some of the most successful parliamentary hits ever made were his, and of this sort. For example, the imaginary scene at the White House after Mr. Tyler's vetoes. But, it must be confessed, that, when the hits came from the other side, he either could not usually see the fun of the thing, or, if he did, he sometimes rudely disturbed it, by a withering sneer or the cut direct. But this can be truly said : He was incapable of malig- nity : " He bore resentment as the flint bears fire." He was free to repair with grace, and without stint or reserva- tion, the injustice which he wrought in haste. He was as placable when cool, as he was fierce when hot ; and when he became reconciled, his memory retained no trace of the past provocation. His intolerance, too, was mostly of the qua- lities and conduct alien from his sympathies, because alien from his nature. Bold, straightforward and fearless, he could not well brook an opposition which came from caution, fear or time-serving ; and, as is usual with such men, he some- clay's hMPCTED ULTRAIS.M. 36i times put to the accoun, df fear and time-serving, what was only the fruit of prudence. He took his ground, for the most part, with judgment ; always from conscientious conviction ; and he was strongly wedded to his favorite projects ; hence he was restive under an opposition which, in his view, was opposition at once to himself and to the public interests. Clay has been charged with ultraism in politics. This imputation has been warmly denied by his friends, who point to his concessions and compromises as proofs of a contrary character. But neither the charge nor the denial represents the whole truth. He was not an extremist in the selection of his ground; he icas ultra in maintaining it. But his firmness did not run into obstinacy, even when he had taken his position. He abandoned a measure when hopeless, or when its maintenance plainly involved greater evils than its loss. He could conciliate and concede down to a particular point ; but beyond that point he could not easily be induced to go. He clung with remarkable pertinacity to the primiple of a measure ; but he was not a stickler for forms ; and modes were so far . indifferent to him, that he willingly agreed, perhaps preferred from policy, to surrender them to the opinions of others. It was the zeal and indomitable per- severance which he put forward in support of a measure, which men mistook for a constitutional proneness to ex- tremes ; not marking the difference between an extreme iieal for a thing, and zeal for an extreme thing. He had to struggle between opposite forces. His physical tempera- 16 362 JACKSON AND CLAY. ment was highly impulsive ; his moral temper was conserva- tive ; but his mind was eminently practical ; and it took the conservative side in his measures, while his physical energies drove them forward with all the vigor and steam-power of Young America. It seems to be forgotten, too, that Clay was the recognized leader and exponent of a large and powerful party ; and what in another man would seem officious dictation, would, in such a leader, be not only proper, but even indispensable. A party to be effective must have organization. To have organization, there must be executive power in the party, even if out of power, answering in some degree to the official power of the party it opposes. Upon Clay was thrown this executive power. There must be yielding and concession, it is true, to keep up party integrity ; but this concession certainly had as well come from individual members as from the head, whom, it cannot be doubted, carried with him the confidence and the suffrages of the vast majority. Those of the Whigs who accuse Clay of dictation and ultraism, ought therefore to reflect that the same charge might be re- torted upon the minority who opposed. him with nearly as much force as it could be made against him who represented the mass of the party. Great injustice has been done Clay, by instituting com- parisons between a single faculty or a few faculties of his in- tellect, and a single or a few faculties of his illustrious con- temporaries : and by a general deduction of his inferiority to them, drawn from this comparison. It might be safely CLAY, CALHOUN AND WEBSTER. 363 admitted that Clay did not possess the wonderful analysis of Calhoun — that incarnation of logic. It might, also, be con- ceded, that he had no claim to the Miltonic grandeur of imagination, the classic erudition, the artistic skill in words, and the comprehensive and lucid statement of Webster. Not only Clay's intellect, but his whole organization depends for its just appreciation upon a view of it as a whole. It is remarkable for the harmonious proportions, and the large, though equable, developments of all the parts. If, by no one faculty, standing alone, would he have been greatly dis- tinguished, yet in no one faculty was he less than remark- able ; while the whole made up a complement of distinction and power denied, as we think, to any other man of his time. Reflect, how rare it is to find concentered in one man all the qualities of mind, of body, of temperament, which make a successful manager in war-times, and in those crises of af- fairs in peace, requiring the highest faculties of the cap- tain. Reflect, how few of his contemporaries could, on any one prominent occasion, have supplied his place. Consider, how few men have the qualities which preserve the confidence of a party for years — how few could have held the. undis- puted leadership of a furious opposition for nearly a genera- tion. Who else has ever done it ? Consider, that with these qualities were blended a business capacity and know- ledge of detail, which qualified him for success in every de- partment of practical affairs. Consider, that he showed a genius for diplomacy inferior to that of no man of the age ; for liis settlement of the sectional questions when they seemed 364 JACKSON AND CLAY. impossible of adjustment, called for as higli diplomatic ability as the treaties he negotiated. Consider that, as a jurist, notwithstanding the small attention he paid to the practice and study of law, he rose to the first rank at the eminent bar of his own state ; and, that, as an advocate, he had no peer in courts, where the most brilliant and elocjuent orators of the country pleaded. Consider, too, that he led the policy of the country in every great measure from Madison, indeed, from the last Congress of Jefferson's ad- ministration, until he met the man of his destiny in Andrew Jackson ; that in Democratic Congresses, he carried almost every one of his leading measures, and was only defeated by the vetoes of the President from fixing upon the country almost the whole line of his policy — a policy so broad as to have embraced nearly the whole scheme of Federal adminis- tration. If we look at his measures, we find schemes so large — systems so broad — as to belong only to minds the most capacious ; and, besides them, we see faculties of ad- ministration so extended as to embrace the fullest details of the bureau or the farm. No man ever had a busier invention in moulding measures, or a more active enterprise in prose- cuting his purposes. And, when we add, that, for thirty years, a greater body of intellect looked up to him in reverence or followed him with unhesitating confidence, than any man of his age attracted ; that those who knew him longest were those who appreciated him the most highly ; that senators and judges applauded him as loudly as the village zealots of his party at the clubs ; and that generation after generation clay's rOPITION AS A STATESMAN. 365 0/ statesmen found liim and left him at tlie post of unques- tioned national leadership — at the first post of eflfective in- fluence on all r|uestions, which, for the time, sank the clamors, and disbanded the organization of party ; — we begin to realize the error, Avhich would degrade the intellect of such a man, from the highest class of the gifted sons of genius God has ever given to the earth. In the multiplicity of his accom- plishments, in the versatility of his powers, in the grandeur of his schemes, in the strength of his intellect, in the lofti- ness and range of his ambition, in his sway over the intelli- gence of his country, and in the monumental measures of his policy, Alexander Hamilton, alone of his countrymen, ap- proaches him. But the most conclusive proof of his superiority is to be found in the fact, that whenever the country was in immi- nent danger, and could find extrication only in extraordinary resources and wisdom, the public expectation turned to Henry Clay, as its deliverer ; and the discord and prejudice of party and of section hushed their clamors to hear and obey his voice ; just as, amidst the terrors of a storm, the instinct of the passengers points to the strong and able man of the ship for safety. His personal courage was of that daring type, which, in Bonaparte's army, would have raised him from the ranks to a marshal of the empire; and it supported a moral courage of like robustness and enterprise. His emotional nature was powerful and easily excited ; and he owed to his strong sensibilities a great portion of that popular 366 JACKSON AND CLAY. eloquence, which never failed to bring the crowd in subjec- tion to his appeals. His veracity was as unquestioned as his independence. No man was more scrupulous or more accu- rate of statement. Powerful as were his passions, they seldom betrayed him into error. His judgment seemed cool, even when his temper and imagination were aflame ; and his off-hand speeches were not only full of fire and elo quence, but they were usually as replete with tact and address. A critical examination of his speeches, although they were not equal to his fame as an orator, yet discovers an ability, a skill of argumentation, a breadth of comprehen- sion, a fulness of information, and a power of vigorous, sus- tained reasoning, abstract and practical, which entitle them to a high place in this sort of literature. It is true that he left no speech equal to "Webster's reply to Hayne ; nor has any one else. "Webster himself has not done it. He is said to have considered his speech of the 7th March, 1850, as its superior ; but the world will not think so. After that speech shall have been forgotten, the little boys of Patago- nia, then annexed, will be making the walls of the school- houses ring with — " "When my eyes shall be turned to behold for the last time, the sun in heaven, may I not see him shinino" on the broken and dishonored fragments of a once glorious Union," &c. It has been said that the speeches and writings of "Web- ster will live long after Clay's shall have perished. This is probably true ; but it does not follow from this that "Web- ster was the greater man, or that he will descend with more ex. AYS SUPERIORITY. 367 honor to posterity. The evidence of his greatness in ont province of mind will be better preserved ; but the great- ness itself may not be relatively magnified. Patrick Henry has left scarcely a memorial of his genius, yet, his fame to- day is wider, and its lustre as fresh, as when he died. Clay's claims to fame are not in his printed speeches. They are in his measures, which are deeds, and in his acts, which are monuments ; and Clay's deeds will outlive Webster's words. Clay projected his character upon the imaginations and hearts of his generation ; and it was there imprinted in the strong colors of the sublime and the heroic ; and such an impression descends through tradition upon succeeding ages. It is in this way, and not through their writings, that most of the great personages of ancient and modern story are to us living realities. This character will be estimated by a higher standard than a cold calculation of how much of the dry light of intellect was in the brain, or of the size of tlie organs of causality and comparison as measured with those of two il- lustrious contemporaries. It will be estimated in its triple development of the physical, moral, and intellectual ; in its completeness, harmony and integrity ; by what it was capable of accomplishing, and by what it did actually accom- plish ; by its influence upon the spirit of its age, and upon the intellect, not of this locality or that, but of the whole country. And we think the judgment of posterity will be in favor of the intellect, possessing the faculty of construct- %ng great measures and schemes of statesmanship, and of 368 JACKSON AND CLAY. those great executive energies which carried them into ex- ecution And thou art gone from our midst, gallant Harry Clay ! and the world seems drearier than before ! Who thinks of thee as of an old man gradually going out of life by wast- ing and decay ; as one, who, in the eclipse or helplessness of physical and mental energies, sinks to his last sleep and rest? No! thou seemest ever young; ever buoyant with a vigorous and impulsive manhood ; vital with irrepr-essible energies, and glowing with Life and Hope and Love ; as if all noble feelings and all lofty thoughts were busy in thy heart and brain, claiming from lips and eyes eloquent utter- ance. We could bear to hear of thy dying thus, though with many a sharp pang of sorrow, and many a thought of sadness mingled with pride and love. But what friend of thine could bear to contemplate thee living — yet receding from life ; the noble form bowed down ; the lofty crest palsied and lowered ; . the glorious intellect passing into thick-coming darkness, and bursting only in fitful blaze, if ever, into the life and light of thy old eloquence ; the buoyant step now halting on the crutches of senility; words, peevish and garrulous, profaning the tongue that once held senates in transported audience ; and rayless and vacant now, the bold and glittering eye, that awed and com- manded strong men like a king ? Who could have borne to see thee the wreck of thy former self, nothing remaining but the contrast of present nothingness with past grandeur and glory! We were spared that spectacle; for it was CLAY'S DEATH. 369 mercifully granted to thy prayers to spring out of mortal life at once, with unwastcd energies, into the blaze of im- mortality ! Why pursue further the theme ? The grass is just grow- ing green on the sod above him ; and the words of eulogy and the deep wail of a nation are almost yet stirring the air. He died bravely as he had lived. He had lived out his term and worked out faithfully his time ; and now the Republic mourns, throughout her wide borders, and will honor till its last stone be removed, the greatest orator, and, except Wash- ington, the wisest statesman and most useful citizen this country ever called into her service. And so the long feud ended, and the leaders' fight is over. The old Knights died in harness and were buried with the honors of war, and chivalrous enemies do homage to their graves. The good Knights are dust, And their good swords are rust, And theii- souls are with the saints we trust THE END A LIST NE^V WORKS IN GENERAL. LITEKATUIiE, PUBLISHED BY D. APPLETON & COMPANY, &46 & 34S Broadway. *^* Completa Catalogues, containing full descriptiois, to he had on appiio<*t^one, / Life of Ht nry Hudson, . Life of Capt. 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By Alex. Dumas, . Gore (Mrs.). The Dean's D./'. Sprague. " Almost every page has a tincture of elegant scholarship, and bears witness to an ot Unsive reading of good authors."— .Sryanf. II. The Hearth-Stone ; THOUGHTS UPON HOME LIFE IN OUR CITIES. BY SAMUEL OSGOOD, AUTHOR or "STUDIES IN CIIBI8TIAN BIOGEAPHT," "GOD WITH MEN," Pta FOUKTII EDITION. One Volume, 12mo. Cloth. Price f 1. Criticisms of the Press. "This is a volume of elegant and impressive essays on the domestic relations and reli- gious duties of the household. Mr. Osgood writes on these interesting themes in the most charming and animated style, winning the reader's judgment rather than coercing it to the author's conclusions. The predominant sentiments in the book are purity, sincerity, and love. A more delightful volume has rarely been published, and we trust it -will have < wiiio circulation, for its influence must be salutary upon both old and young." — Commer- eia' Advertiser. 'The 'Hearth-Stone' is the symbol of all those delightful truths which Mr. Osgood hen, connects with it. In a free and graceful style, varying from deep solemnitj to the most genial and lively tone, as befits his range of subjects, he gives attention to wise thoughts on holv things, and homely truths. His volume will find mar y warm hearts io which Jt *lll address itself."— CAmf/a?? Sh-aminer. D. APPLETON & (JO:i^ PUBLICATIONS. A Cri'eat National l¥ork. Party Leaders. SKETCHES OF JEFFERSON, HAMILTON, RANDOLPH, JACKSON, AND CLAY: Including l^otices of many other Distinguished American Statesmen BY J. G. BALDWi:^", fNow of San Francisco, California.) Author of " Flush Times of ulabama and Mississippi One Volume, 12mo. Cloth. Price $1 OPINIONS OF EMINENT MEN. From Ex-President Fillmore. I have read " Party Leaders" with great satisfaction and delight, and return you a thou Band thanks for the pleasure and instruction I have derived from the perusal. From nonoralle Edvtaed Everett. What little I have as yet been able to read of it, has impressed me very favorably in re- ference to the ability and impartiality with which it is drawn up. I am prepared to read it with interest and advantage, in consequence of the pleasure I derived from '• The Flush Times in Alabama." From UonoraUe J. P. Kennedy. I was greatly delighted with the fine, discriminating, acute insight with which the cha- racters presented in the work are drawn, and with the eloquent style of the sketches. I but repeat the common opinion of the best judges, which I hear every where expressed, when I commend these qualities of the book. "The Flush Times of Alabama" had whetted my desire to see this second production of Mr. Baldwins pen, and I can hardly express to you the agreeable surprise I enjoyed in finding a work of such surpassing merit in a tone and manner so entirely different from the first— demonstrating that double gift in the author which enables him to excel in two such opposite departments of literature. From Uon. E. M. T. Hunter, U. S. Senator from Virginia. I have read " Party Leaders" with great pleasure. It is written with ability, and wilti freshness, and grace of style, * * * The chapters on Fwandolph are capital. From Hon. James M. Mason, U. S. Senator fvom Virginia. I have heard " Party Leaders " highly commended by those competent to judge, but confess I was not prepared for the intellectual and literary feast its rich pages have yielded. As a literary work, I shall be much disappointed if it does not place its author at once In the first rank of American literature, and even in old England. I shall look for its place Bett to, if not by the side of, the kindred works of Af^jlntosh and Macaulay. From a Distinguished Statesman, It is a noble production, full of profound thought, discriminating judgment, just ciiLi ?ism, and elevated sentiments, all expressed in the most captivating and eloquent style. It a a book jus^ according to my fancy, and, I think, one of the most captivating in oiu iaaguage. D. APFLETON dc CO:S PUBLICATIONS. A Practical Book on the Brceding^ of Fi§li A COMPLETE TREATISE 0:^" Artificial Fifli-Breeding : DSrCLUDtNG THE REPOETS ON THE SUBJECT MADE TO THE FPwENCn ACADEMY AND THE FPvENCH GOVEENMENT, AND PARTICU- LARS OF TEE DISCOVERY AS PURSUED IN ENGLAND. TRANSLATED AND EDITED BY WM. H. FRY. ILLUSTRATED WITH ENQRAVINOS. One Volume. 12mo. Cloth. Price 75 cents. Opinions of the Press. " A very genial and entertaining, though practical and scientific book. No one who loves the existence in our rivers, brooks, or lakes, of trout and salmon, should be without IV^— Broome Republic. " In this little volume, the whole process of fish-culture is described so plainly and with 60 much minuteness that any person will have no difficulty in informing himself sufficiently well to engage in the business ; provided he has the necessary facilities and leisure, with a good running stream or pond, and the proper attention, a great brood of fishes may be natched from the eggs, and raised up for the market or the table ; and such delicacies are trout and salmon, that it is evident that the business of producing them for sale may be made profitable."— TForcesfer Palladium. " This discovery is treated as a matter of great public benefit in France and England, where it is practised under the direction and patronage of Government, and is beginning to work its results in stocking rivers and lakes, with the finest species of fish, where few or ttone have before existed for many years."— Wu'o Cultivator. " Every farmer who has a stream flowing through his land, or miller who wishes to turn Ws ponds to some account, should make himself acquainted with the (letails of tJ»e book." —ifeioark Daily Advertiser. D. APPLETON d; CO:S PUBLICATIONS. The most Anthentic and Entertaining Life of Napoleon. Memoirs of Napoleon, mS COUKT AND FAMILY. BY THE DUCHESS D'ABR ANTES, (Madame Junot.) Two Yolumes, 8vo. 1134 pages. Price |4. iL'iBi of %iul Bnjgrabin^s xonlaintitl in lf)is Illustratttj B^itlnn. KAPOLEOX. JOSEPHINE. MARIA LOCTSA, DUKE OF REICH8TADT, LirCIEN ROXAPARTE, MARSHAL JUNOT, CHARLES BOXAPARTE, PACLIXE BOXAPARTE, MADAME LAETITIA BOXAPARTE, ELIZA BOXAPARTE, CHARLES BOXAPARTE, Probably no writer has had the same op- portunities for becoming acquainted with NAPOLEON THE GREAT as the Duchess D'Abrantes. Her mother rocked him in his cradle, and when he quitted Brienne and came to Paris, she guid- ed and protected his younger days. Scarcely a day passed without bis visiting her house during the period which preceded his depar- ture for Italy as COMMANDEPw-IN-CHIEF. Abundant occasion was therefore had for watchins the development of the great genius who afterwards became the master of the greater part of Europe. MAPvSHAL JUNOT, who became allied to the author of this work by marriage, was the intimate friend of Na- poleon, and figured in most of the BRILLIANT ENGAGEMENTS which rendered him the greatest military captain of the age. No interruption took place in the intimacy which slie enjoyed, so that In all these scenes, embracing a period of nearly THIRTY TEARS, the Duchess became familiar wiih all the •ecret springs of NAPOLEON'S ACTIONS, JEROME BOXAPARTE, LOUIS BOXAPARTE, CARDINAL FESCH, LOUISA, QUEEX OF PRUSSIA, JOSEPH BONAPARTE. either through her husband or by her cwn personal knowledge and observation at th* Court of Napoleon. JOSEPHINE, whose life and character so peculiarly attract the attention of all readers, occupies a great part of the first volume. The character and the deeds of THE EMPERORS AND KINGS, THE GREAT MEN OF THE DAY, THE MARSHALS OF THE EMPIRE, THE DISTINGUISHED LADIES OP THE COURT, are described with minuteness, which pei sonal observation only admits of. The work is written in that FAMILIAR GOSSIPING STYLE, and so interspersed with anecdotes that the reader never wearies. She has put every thing in her book— great events and small. BATTLES AND BALLS, COURT INTRIGUES AND BOUDOIR GOSSIP, TREATIES AND FLIRTATIONS, making two of the most charming voluinef of memoirs, which will interest th« reader in spite of himself. Opinions of the Press. "These anecdotes of Napoleon are the best yet given to tho world, because the most Intimate and familiar."'— /.o/ic/o?! Literary Gazette. " We consider the performance now before us as more authentic and amusing than any olher of its kind."— ioncio/i Quarterly Review. " Every thing relating to Napoleon is eagerly sought for and read in this country as well M In Euiope, and this work, with its extraordinary attractions, will not fail to command a wido circulation. Madame Junot possessed qualifications for writing a semi-domestic history of the great Corsican which no other person, male or female, could commamL*'— life Illustrated. B. APPLETOX d- C(J:S PCBLlCATlOyS. lilGMT lilTEKATURE, BY I^ABiES OF TALENT. I. Juno Clifford. BY A LADY. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, with two plates, $1,25. {From Vie Evening Traveller.) Tliis is a work of more than ordinary ability and interest In its conception ihc plan is certainly original. {Front the X. E. Farmer.) Tlie unfolding of the plot, and the delineation of the characters, evince talents of a high order; and it i< evident that the authoress 7(o:^sc.-s«es a good deeree of skill, if not experien'ce in tliis department of literaUire. We think her work will rank above the common run of novels. {From tJie Kew Haven Palladium.) This is one of the most ftiscinating t.ooks of the season, and will doubtless find many adinirei-s. It is a story ( f American life, and most of the scenes are laid in Boston and New York. Tlie characters are painted in vivid colors; the proud and stately heroine, to whom no more fitting name than Juno could have been applied; her adopted son. Little Sunbeam and Grace Atherton will not .'^oon be forgotten. The style is beautiful and the in- terest quite absorbing. {From the True Flag.) The conceptions of character in "Juno CliflTord" are almost unequalled by any American woman, and the plot has a straightforward intensity and directness rarely found in a woman's book. The death cenes are inimitable, and the love passages are no sickly eentimcntalism, but the utterance of that holy passion which outlives time and death. LIGHT AND DARKNESS OR THE Shadow of Fate. A STORY OF FASIIIOXABLE LIFE, BY A LADY. 1 vol. 12I110., cloth, 75 ct?. {From the N. Y. Dispatch.) This is a pleasant and graphic story, the scenes of which are laid in the city of New York. The liaht and dark, or the good and bad. of fashionable life are vividly "intermin- gled, and described by a feride and glowing pen, with much talent and skill. {From the Phihidelphia City Item.) The whole work is so complete, finished and artistic, that we cannot but anticipate a brilliant and successful career for the writer, if she will devote herself faithfully to the h'>h and influential department of art in which she has made so triumphant a delut. ^ {From Godei/'s Lady's Book.) Her creations are all life-like; her scenes natural; her personages snch as one nuet - every day in the haunts of fashion or domestic life. "W'e read her story bclievinsly. and re- member the characters afterwards as old acquaintances. To produce such an effect upon ourself is to give assurance of an accomplished artist Mav this author live to write many stories not only of fashionable, but of all sorts of life, and may wc have them to read. B. APPLETON & CO:S PUBLICATIONS. Important Xcw Publications. I. . Village and Farm Cottages. THE REQUIREMENTS OF AMERICAX ^TLLAGE HOMES CONSIDERED AND SUGGESTED, With Designs for such Houses of Moderate Cost BY HENRY W. CLEVELAND, WM. BACKUS, & SAML. D. BACKUS. 1 vol 8vo. Illustrated with 100 Engravings. Price 82. {From the JS\ Y. Etening Post.) The work is professedly intended for that numerous class who cannot afford to build expensively. The design is well carried out. We have here some two dozen cottages and farm houses, of various size, accommodation, and style, ranging, in estimated cost, from 8600 to $3,000. These humble elevations are, for the most part, simple and graceful ; tastefully set oflF with accompaniments of shrub and tree, and show how beautiful rural cottages may and ought to become. The floor plans arid sections show that the attention given to the internal arrangements have been most careful and judicious. To make communication easy between the moms, and yet to insure privacy and seclusion, to facilitate the work of a household with few or no servants, to make the little abode pleasant to its inmates and inviting to friends, is the evident, and, we think, the successful intent of the authors. Working plans and printed specifications for each house can be had at a trifling cost, upon application to the architects. This is a novel feature in architectural publications, and a very judicious one. The book contains many useful remarks and truly practical hints. Any person about to build may read with profit the sections on the choice of a lot, on the adoption of a plan, on painting, on our fortet timbers, and on the application of principles to details. The Attache in Madrid ; OR, SKETCHES OF THE COURT OF ISABELLA IL 1 vol. r2ni(). SGS pages. .$1. " It is believed that there is no other book In our language which presents so good a pic- ture of Spain and toe Spaniards as this does. The author possesses the necessary qualifi- cations for the production of such a work. The Spaniards are a proud people— proud of their country and history— proud of their traditions and poetry— proud of their old romances and chivalry— proud of their churches and their religion— and pn.ud of their manners and habits. With such a nation the At.ache could feel a deep and sincere sympathv. He was not so materialistic as to be haunted by the 2host of a ten-cent-piece in the Palace I'f the E*curial. He saw every tiling, from the priv.ate levee to the public bull-fight; from the rnoonliirht dance of Manolas to the regal balls of the Ducliess dAlva; from the needle-work of tlie Spanish maiden to the glorious paintinirs of Titian, Velasquez, and Murilio: and he has put upon paper all that was worthy df record, wliich came under his noiice. But this is not all. He has given us a kind of political history of modern Spain. His borfk will make Spanish politics, and Spanish partisan.«hip, as tamiliar to the American readt-r as the conchology of his own '■ Hards* and " Softs."' The account given of M. SouK's diplomacv, of his heroism, is not the least interesting chapter in the work; and the description of the Revolution of 1S4S. and of the fliglit of Queen Christina and of the San[Lui-5 Cabinet, is graphic, iLStructive, and interesting. " It is evident that the relaiions of the author at the Span'eli Court were at once delicate and intimate.'' B. APPLETON d' CO:S PUBLICATIONS. " QUITE EQUAL. TO PUNCH."— Knickerbocker. PHCENIXIANA ; or. Sketches and Burlesques. \ Vol. \2mo. Cloth. With Portrait of the Author. %\. TfflS VOLUME UNQUESTIONABLY EXCELS ANY BOOK OF HUMOR THAT HAS EVER BEEN PUBLISHED IN AMERICA ; AND, AS A PROOJ OF THE FACT, WE ANNEX THE OPINIONS OF SOME OF THE LEAD- ING AND INFLUENTIAL JOURNALS OF THE COUNTRY, NEARLY ALL OF WHOM HAVE PRONOUNCED JOHN PHCENIX " THE GREAT WIT OF THE AGE." {From the Utica Jlerald.) These Sketches are characterized by much humor, and will be found highly entertain- ing. The illustrations— e.