DUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2017 with funding from Duke University Libraries https://archive.org/details/livesofpresident01abbo_0 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS THE UNITED STATES IF AMERICA, FROM WASHINGTON TO THE PRESENT TIME. CONTAINING A NARRATIVE OF THE MOST INTERESTING EVENTS IN THE CAREER OF EACH PRESIDENT; THUS CONSTITUTING A GRAPHIC HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES. TO WHICH IS ADDED A CHAPTER Showing the Progress of the Republic from the Revolutionary War to the Present Time, BY JOHN S. C. ABBOTT AND RUSSELL H. CONWELL, ILLUSTRATED WITH PORTRAITS OF ALL THE PRESIDENTS ENGRAVED ON STEEL, PICTURES OP THEIR PRIVATE RESIDENCES, AND THIRTY OTHER WOOD ENGRAVINGS OF THE MOST INTERESTING SCENES IN THEIR LIVES ; TOGETHER WITH ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE CENTENNIAL JUBILEE. SOLD ONLY BY DISTRIBUTING AGENTS. Revised Edition. 1 1 1 Q Portland, Maine : H. HALLETT & COMPANY. Copyright. H. Hallett and Co. 9-2 3 . / > 3 , ^ / 3 3. . L PREFACE. There are few persons who can read this record of the Lives of the Presidents of the United States without the conviction, that there is no other nation which can present a consecutive series of twenty rulers of equal excellence of character and administrative ability. Probably the least worthy of all our presidents would rank among the best of the kings whom the accident of birth has placed upon hereditary thrones ; and not an individual has popular suf- frage elevated to the presidential chair, whom one would think of ranking with those many royal monsters who have in turn disgraced all the courts of Europe. This record settles the question, that popular suffrage, in the choice of rulers, is a far safer reliance than hereditary descent. With us, the freedom of the press is so unlimited, and political partisanship so intense, that few persons have been able to take really an impartial view of the characters of those who have been by one party so inordinately lauded, and by the other so intemperately assailed. But, as we now dispassionately review the past, most readers will probably find many old prejudices dispelled. In writing these sketches, the authors have endeavored to be thoroughly impartial, and to place themselves in the position which the subject of the sketch occupied, so as to look from his stand-point upon the great questions which he was called to consider. John Adams and Thomas Jef- ferson were in political antagonism ; but no man can read a true record of their lives, and not be convinced that both were inspired with the noblest zeal to promote the best interests of their country and of the human race. The writers have not thought that impartiality requires that they should refrain from a frank expression of their own views. It is an essential part of biography, that faults 4 PREFACE. as well as virtues should be honestly detailed. No man is perfect. There have certainly been errors and wrong-doings in the past administration of this government. It is not the duty of the impartial historical biographer to ignore such, or to gloss them over. They should be distinctly brought to light as instruction for the future. The materials from which the writers have drawn these biographical sketches are very abundant. Whatever of merit they possess must consist mainly in the skill which may be exhibited in selecting from the great mass those incidents which will give one the most vivid conception of the individual. The writers have attempted, with much labor, to present a miniature likeness of each character which shall be faithful and striking. If they have failed, they can only say that they have honestly done their best. They have not deemed it expedient to incumber these pages with foot-notes, as most of the important facts here stated, it is believed, are unquestioned 5 and all will be found substantiated in the memoirs and works, more or less voluminous, of oar Chief Magistrates, contained in most of our large libraries. Xote. — Since the principal portion of this book was written, the celebrated author, John S. C. Abbott, has passed on to bis eternal home. But he will long- live on, as one of earth’s moral powers, in the hearts of thousands of sincere friends, and in the numerous thrilling volumes of history and biography which he has written. Russell H. Conwell. CONTENTS CHAPTER I. GEORGE WASHINGTON. PAGE Ancestry. — Birth and Childhood. — The Youthful Engineer. — Life in the 'Wilderness. — War with the Indians. — Domestic Griefs. — The French War. — Heroism at Brad- dock’s Defeat. — Marriage. — Mount Vernon. — Domestic Habits. — Revolution. — Patriotism. — Commander-in-Chief. — Expulsion of the British from Boston. — Bat- tles. — Self-Sacrifice. — Alliance with France. — Capture of Cornwallis. — Close of the War. — Chosen President. — Retirement. — Life at Mount Vernon. — Sickness and Death 9 CHAPTER II. JOHN ADAMS. Ancestry. — His Boyhood. — Marriage. — Defense of the Soldiers. — Patriotism. — The Continental Congress. — Energy of Mrs. Adams. — The Appointment of Washington. , — The Declaration of Independence. — Delegate to France. — Adams and Franklin. — Franklin and Voltaire. — Mission to Holland. — The French Court. — Mission to England. — Presidential Career. — Last Days and Death 57 CHAPTER III. THOMAS JEFFERSON. Birth and Childhood. — College Life. — A Law Student. —Marriage. — Estate at Monti- cello. — The Continental Congress. — Governor of Virginia. — Death of his Wife. — Letters to his Children. — Minister to France. — Interest in the French Revolution. — Returns to America. — Secretary of State. — Monarchical Sentiments. — Letters. — Weary of Office. — Vice-President. — President. — Inaugural. — Stormy Administra- tion. — Scenes at Monticello. — Death 97 CHAPTER IV. JAMES MADISON. Childhood. — College Life. — Enters Public Life. — Framing the Constitution. — In Con- gress. — Marriage. — Mrs. Madison. — Secretary of State. — The White House. — Friendship with Jefferson. — Chosen President. — Right of Search. — War with Eng- land. — Reelected. — Treaty of Ghent. — Old Age and Death ..... 148 CHAPTER V. JAMES MONROE. - Parentage and Birth. — Education. — Enters the Army. — A Legislator. — A Senator. — Mission to France.- — Bonaparte. — Colonel Monroe, Governor. — Secretary both of War and of State. — Elected to the Presidency. — Northern Tour. — The Monroe Doc- ■ i trine. — Retirement and Death ...” 169 CHAPTER VI. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. Birth and Childhood. — Education in Europe. — Private Secretary. — Harvard College. — Studies Law. — Minister to the Netherlands. — Other Missions. — Return to America. — Massachusetts Senate. — National House of Representatives. — Professor of Rhetoric. — Mission to Russia. — Secretary of State. — President. — Retirement. — House of Representatives. — Death 185 CHAPTER VII. ANDREW JACKSON. Birth and Education. — A Bad Boy. — Keeps School. — Studies Law. — Emigrates. — Fron- tier life. — Low Tastes. — A Representative. — Senator. — Judge. — Shopkeeper.— , Major-General. — Quarrels and Duels. — Marriage and its Romance. — Fight with the Bentons. — War with the Indians. — Defense of New Orleans. — Passion and Vio- lence. — President of the United States. — Conversion. — Death 207 6 CONTENTS. CHAPTER VIII. MARTIN VAN BUREN. PAGE Birth and Childhood. — Studies Law. — Success as a Lawyer and Politician. — Secretary of State. — Mrs. Eaton. — Minister to England. — Rejected by the Senate. — Attains the Vice-Presidency. — Chosen President. — Retirement " . 241 CHAPTER IX. WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. Birth and Ancestry. — Enters United States Army. — Sent to Congress. — Governor of In- diana Territory. — Battle of Tippecanoe. — War with Great Britain. — Perplexities and Labors. — The British repulsed. — Tecumseh slain. — Elected President. — Death . 253 CHAPTER X. JOHN TYLER. His Parentage. — Education and Scholarship. — Early Distinction. — Success at the Bar and in Political Life. — Democratic Principles. — Course in the Senate. — Elected Vice- President. — Accession to the Presidency. — Joins in the Rebellion. — Death . 274 CHAPTER XI. JAMES KNOX POLK. Ancestry of Mr. Polk. — His Early Distinction. — His Success as a Lawyer. — In Con- gress. — Speaker in the House. — Governor of Tennessee. — Candidate for the Pres- idency. — Mexican War. — Retirement. — Sickness. — Death 284 CHAPTER XIL ZACHARY TAYLOR. / Birth. — Emigration to Kentucky. — Neglected Education. — Enters the Army. — Battles with the Indians. — Campaign in Florida. — The Mexican War. — Palo Alto. — Resaca de la Palma. — Monterey. — Buena Vista. — The Presidency. - Sufferings. — Death 299 CHAPTER XIII. MILLARD FILLMORE. Lowlv Birth. — Struggles. — Limited Education. — Eagerness for Intellectual Improve- ment. — A Clothier. — A Law Student. — Commencement of Practice. — Rapid Rise. — In Congress. — Vice-President. — President. — His Administration. — Retirement. — The Civil War 324 CHAPTER XIV. FRANKLIN PIERCE. Character of his Father. — His Promise in Boyhood. — College Life. — Political Views. — Success as a Lawyer. — Entrance upon Public Life. — Service in the Mexican War. — Landing in Mexico. — March through the Country. — The Presidency. — Retirement . 332 CHAPTER XV. JAMES BUCHANAN. His Childhood’s Home. — Devotion to Study. — Purity of Character. — Congressional Career. — Secretary of State. — Minister to the Court of St. James. — Ostend Mani- festo. — Presidency. — Retirement 352 CHAPTER XVI. ABRAHAM LINCOLN. Life in a Log Cabin. —A Day Laborer. — A Boatman. — A Shop-Keeper. — A Student. — A Legislator. — A Lawyer. — A Member of Congress. — The Debate with Doug- las. — The Presidency. — Habits of Temperance. — His Assassination . . . 375 CONTENTS. 7 CHAPTER XVII. ANDREW JOHNSON. PAGE His Lowly Origin. — Struggles — State Representative. — State Senator. — Congress. — Governor. — -United States Senator. — Opposition to Secession. — Military Governor of Tennessee. — Vice-President. — President. — Conflict with Congress. — His Policy 430 CHAPTER XVIII. ULYSSES S. GRANT. Birth and Childhood. — At West Point. — On the Frontiers. — Mexican War. — Battle of Belmont. — Capture of Fort Donelson. — Shiloh and Pittsburg Landing. — Siege of Vicksburg. — Campaign of Chattanooga. — Lieutenant-General. — Campaign of the Wilderness. — Capture of Lee’s Army. — President 481 CHAPTER XIX. RUTHERFORD B. HAYES. Birth. — Ancestry. — Childhood. — College Days. — Cambridge Law School. — Practice of the Law. — City Solicitor. — Military Services, Battles, and Wounds. — Election to Congress. — Governor of Ohio. — Administration 517 CHAPTER XX. JAMES A. GARFIELD. Parentage. — Birth. — Wilderness. — Death of his Father. — Youthful Occupations. — Attempts to obtain an Education. — School Life. — College Days. — Marriage. — In State Senate. — Enters the War. — His Campaigns. — His Election to Congress. — His Legislative Career. — Elected to United States Senate. — Nomination for Presi- dent. — Election — Inauguration. — Assassination. — Sickness. — Death . . .542 CHAPTER XXI. CHESTER ALAN ARTHUR. Early Life of his Father. — His Birth. — Childhood. — School Days. — College Life. — Teaching School. — Lawyer. — Defense of Slaves — Public Office. — Marriage. — Nomination. — Election. — Inauguration 587 CHAPTER XXII. STEPHEN GROVER CLEVELAND. His Birth. — His Ancestors. — His Parents. — His Early Boyhood. — School Days. — Pre- paring for College. — A Clerk. — A Teacher. — Student of Law. — Years of Toil. — District Attorney. — Elected Sheriff. — His Career as Mayor. — His Work as Gov- ernor. — Nomination for the Presidency 603 CHAPTER XXIII. ONE HUNDRED YEARS’ PROGRESS. Territory. — Population. — Rapid Growth. — Public Buildings. — The Navy. — The Na- tional Flag. — The Army. — The Declaration of Independence. — The Steamboat. — The Railway. — Cotton. — Coal. — The Telegraph. — India-Rubber. — Anaesthetics. — Matches. — Gas. — The Printing-Press. — Metallic Pens. — Daguerreotypes. — Sew- ing-Machines. — Manufactures in General. — The Telephone, Phonograph, and Electric Light. — The Centennial Jubilee — Statistics of Progress. — Wonderful Development in Art, Sciences, Agriculture, and Manufactures. — The Influence of the United States on other Nations 634 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. STEEL-PLATE ILLUSTRATIONS. II. III. IV. y. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. Group Plate of Pour Presidents, containing likenesses of George Washington Abraham Lincoln, Andrew Jackson, and Andrew Johnson. Frontispiece ’ The British Fleet leaving Boston Harbor 32 Group Plate of Six Presidents, namely: John Adams, Thomas Jefferson James Madison, James Monroe, John Quincy Adams, and Martin Van Buren . ’ 97 Battle of New Orleans . . ' 233 Battle of Buena Vista 319 Group Plate of Seven Presidents, namely: William Henry Harrison,’ John Tyler, James K.. Polk, Zachary Taylor, Millard Fillmore, Franklin Pierce, and James Buchanan gcg Abraham Lincoln entering Richmond .... 430 Portrait of General U. 8. Grant j !.'!!! 485 Portrait of Rutherford B. Hayes 517 Portrait of James A. Garfield ! 542 Portrait of Chester A. Arthur Portrait of Grover Cleveland . " tioJ WOOD-CUT ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE Washington in a Perilous Situation . . 16 Mount Vernon 50 Residence of John Adams 65 John Adams the Ambassador .... 82 Monticello, Residence of Thomas Jeffer- son 97 Jefferson’s Return to Monticello .... 120 Residence of James Madison 148 British Right of Search 162 Residence of James Monroe 169 The Barge 181 Residence of John Quincy Adams . . . 185 John Quincy Adams in the House of Rep- resentatives 203 Residence of Andrew Jackson .... 207 The Duel 222 Residence of Martin Van Buren . . . .241 Burning of the Caroline 251 Residence of William Henrv Harrison . . 253 Harrison’s Interview with Tecumseh . . 262 Residence of John Tyler 274 Residence of James iv. Polk 284 Residence of Zachary Taylor 299 General Taylor on the Rio Grande . . . 307 Residence of Millard Fillmore .... 324 The United States Senate 330 Residence of Franklin Pierce 332 General Pierce lauding in Mexico . . . 335 PAGE Residence of James Buchanan .... 352 Invasion of Kansas 359 Residence of Abraham Lincoln .... 375 Assassination of Lincoln 432 Residence of Andrew Johnson .... 436 Riot at New Orleans 473 Residence of U. S. Grant 481 Grant’s Interview with Pemberton . . . 490 Residence of R. B. Hayes 517 Residence of James A. Garfield .... 5.43 Hiram College 547 The White House 571 Residence of Chester A. Arthur, 23 Lex- ington Avenue, New York 602 Birthplace of Grover Cleveland, Caldwell, New Jersey 605 Law Office and Residence of Grover Cleve- land, Buffalo, New York 611 Carpenters’ Hall, Philadelphia .... 636 Independence Hall, Philadelphia . . . 636 Liberty Bell, Philadelphia 637 Faneuil Hall, Boston 638 Battle of Lexington 640 Centennial. (Agricultural Hall.) . . . 648 Centennial. (Main Exhibition Build- ing.) 649 Centennial. (Art Gallery.) 650 Centennial. (Horticultural Building. ) .651 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. CHAPTER I. GEORGE WASHINGTON. Ancestry of Washington. — His Birth and Childhood. — Anecdotes. — The Youthful Engineer. — The Fairfax Family. — Life in the Wilderness. — War with the Indians. — Domestic Griefs, — The French War. — Washington’s Heroism at Braddoek’s Defeat. — Scenes of \y oe . — Marriage. — Inheritance of Mount Vernon. — Domestic Habits. — American Revo- lution. — Patriotism of Washington. — Appointed Commander-in-chief. — Expulsion of the British from Boston. — Battles of the Revolution. — Perplexities and Sufferings. — Spirit of Self-Sacrifice. — Alliance with. France. — Capture of Cornwallis. — Attacks upon the Character of Washington. — The Tomahawk and Scalping-Knife. — Close of the War. — Washington chosen President. — His Retirement. — Peaceful Life at Mount Vernon. — Sickness and Death. Two centuries ago Virginia was almost an unexplored wilder- ness ; but even then the beautiful realm had obtained much re- nown from the sketches of chance tourists. The climate, the soil, the rivers, bays, mountains, valleys, all combined to render it one of the most attractive spots upon our globe. Two young brothers, of wealth, intelligence, and high moral principle, — Lawrence and John Washington, — were lui’ed by these attractions to abandon their home in England's crowded isle, and seek their fortunes in this new world. They were both gentlemen. Lawrence was a fine scholar, a graduate of Oxford ; John was an accomplished man of business. After a dreary voyage of four months they entered that mag- nificent inland sea, Chesapeake Bay, and from that ascended the beautiful Potomac. It was a scene as of fairyland whicb was spread around them that bright summer morning, when their ves- sel, propelled by a favoring breeze, glided over the mirrored waters of that river which the name of Washington was subsequently to 10 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. render so renowned. The unbroken forest in all its primeval grand- eur swept sublimely over hill and valley. The birch canoes of the Indian, paddled by w r arriors in their picturesque attire of paint and feathers, glided buoyant as bubbles over the waves. Distance lent enchantment to the view of wigwam villages in sunny coves, with boys and girls frolicking on the beach and in the water. The two brothers had purchased a large tract of land about fifty miles above the mouth of the river, and on its western banks. John built him a house, and married Miss Anne Pope. Years rolled on, of joys and griefs, of smiles and tears, of births and deaths ; and the little drama, so trivial, so sublime, of that family life disappeared, engulfed in the fathomless sea of the ages. Au- gustine, the second son of John, who, like his father, was an ener- getic, wise, good man, remained in the paternal homestead, culti- vating its broad acres. Life, if prolonged, is a tragedy always. Augustine’s wife, Jane Butler, as lovely in character as she was beautiful in person, died, leaving in the house, darkened with grief, three little motherless children. The disconsolate father, in the course of years, found another mother for his bereaved household. He was singularly fortunate in his choice. Mary Ball was every- thing that husband or child could desire. She was beautiful in person, intelligent, accomplished, energetic and prudent, and a warm-hearted Christian. Augustine and Mary were married on the 6th of March, 1730. On the 22d of February, 1732, they re- ceived into their arms their first-born child. Little did they dream, as they bore their babe to the baptismal font and called him George Washington, that that name was to become one of the most mem- orable in the annals of time. Explain it as we may, there is sel- dom a great and a good man to be found who has not had a good mother. In this respect George Washington was very highly blessed. Both of his parents were patterns for a child to follow. The birth- place of George, though very secluded, was one of the most pict- uresque spots on the banks of the Potomac. His parents were wealthy for those times, and his home was blessed with all sub- stantial comforts. A beautiful lawn, smooth and green, spread in gentle descent from the door-stone of their one-story cottage to the pebbly shore of the river, which here spread out into a magnificent breadth of nearly ten miles. On the eastern bank there extended, GEORGE WASHINGTON. 11 as far as the eye could reach, the forest-covered hills and vales of Maryland. A few islands contributed their charm to this view of surpassing loveliness. The smoke of Indian fires curled up from the forest, the flash from the paddle of the Indian canoe glanced over the waves, and occasionally the sails of the white man’s ship were seen ascending the stream. From earliest childhood George developed a very noble charac- ter. He had a vigorous constitution, a fine form, and great bodily strength. In childhood he was noted for frankness, fearlessness, and moral courage ; and yet he was as far removed as possible from manifesting a quarrelsome spirit, or from displaying any of the airs of the bravado. He never tyrannized over others ; and none in his peaceful, rural, virtuous home were found to attempt to tyrannize over him. We must not omit the story, though the world has it by heart, of his cutting the cherry-tree. His reply to his indignant father, whose impetuous nature was roused by the outrage, “ Father, I cannot tell a lie, I cut the tree,” was but the development in boy- hood of the character of his manhood. The father was worthy of the child. “ Come to my heart,” said he, as he embraced him with flooded eyes. “ I had rather lose a thousand trees than find falsehood in my son.” Man is born to mourn. After twelve happy years of union with Mary Ball, when George was but ten years of age, Augustine Washington died, leaving George and five other children fatherless. The grief-stricken mother was equal to the task thus imposed upon her. The confidence of her husband in her judgment and maternal love is indicated by the fact that he left the income of the entire property to her until her children should respectively come of age. Nobly she discharged the task thus imposed upon her. A nation's homage gathers around the memory of the mother of Washington. George never ceased to revere his mother. He attributed to the principles of probity and religion which she instilled into his mind much of his success during the eventful career through which Prov- idence led him. In the final division of the estate, the oldest son, Lawrence, the child of Jane Butler, inherited Mount Vernon, including twenty-five hundred acres of land. George received the paternal mansion, which was some distance farther down the river, with the broad acres sur- rounding it. The other children were also amply provided for. 12 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. Lady Washington, before her marriage, was regarded as one of the most beautiful girls in Virginia. Her figure was commanding, her features lovely, and her demeanor dignified and courtly. Life’s se- vere discipline developed a character simple, sincere, grave, cheered with earnest and unostentatious piety. Her well-balanced mind gave her great influence over her noble son, which she retained until the hour of her death. Mrs. Alexander Hamilton tells the story that, when George Washington was in the meridian of his fame, a very brilliant party was given in his honor at Fredericksburg, Va. When the church- bell rang the hour of nine, Lady Washington rose, and said, “ Come, George, it is nine o’clock : it is time for us to go home.” George, like a dutiful son, offered to his mother his arm, and they retired. We must not, however, fail to record that Mrs. Hamilton admits that, after George had seen his mother safely home, he returned to the party. There was then, as now, in Virginia, great fondness for splendid horses. Lady Washington had a span of iron-grays, very spirited, and very beautiful. With much pride she sat at her window, and gazed upon the noble creatures feeding upon the lawn, and often gamboling like children at play. One of these fiery colts, though accustomed to the harness with his companion in the carriage, had never been broken to the saddle. Some young men, one day, com- panions of George, in a frolic endeavored to mount the fiery steed. It could not be done. George, who was then about thirteen years of age, approached, soothed the animal by caresses, and, watching his opportunity, leaped upon his back. The horse, half terrified, half indignant, plunged and reared, in the vain attempt to free him- self of his rider, and then, with the speed of the winds, dashed over the fields. George, exultant, sat his horse like a centaur, gave him free rein, and, when he flagged, urged him on. Fearless, ardent, imprudent, he forgot the nervous energy of the noble steed, and was not aware of the injury he was doing until the horse broke a blood-vessel, and dropped beneath him. Covered with foam, and gasping for breath, the poor creature almost immedi- ately died. George was greatly alarmed, and hastened to his mother to tell her what he had done. Her calm and characteristic reply was, — “ My son, I forgive you, because you have had the courage to tell GEORGE WASHINGTON. 13 me the truth at once. Had you skulked away, I should have de- spised you.” There was a common school in the neighborhood, which George attended, and where he acquired the rudiments of a good English education. He was a diligent scholar, without developing any great intellectual brilliance. He possessed strong common sense and a remarkably well-balanced mind. There is now extant a manuscript in his plain, legible handwriting, in which, in those boyish days, he had carefully written out several forms of business papers, that he might be ready on any emergency, without embarrassment, to draw up correctly such documents. The manuscript contains promissory notes, bills of sale, land warrants, leases, deeds, and wills. His serious, devotional character was developed in those early years. Several hymns, expressing earnest religious sentiments, he had care- fully transcribed. Another manuscript book, which he had evidently collated with great care and sedulously studied, contained a record of “ Rules of Behavior in Company and in Conversation.” “ The boy is father of the man.” This lad of thirteen years, in his secluded rural home, was pondering the great mysteries of the present and the future life, and was, with careful study, cultivating his mind, his manners, and his heart. He could hardly have made better preparation for the career which was before him had some good angel whispered into his ear the immense responsibilities which were to be laid upon him, and the renown he was to acquire. It was this early training, to which he was undoubtedly in some de- gree stimulated by the mind of his mother, to which he was in- debted for much of his subsequent success in life. At sixteen years of age George, then a man in character, and almost a man in stature, left school. He excelled in mathematical studies, and had become familiar with the principles of geometry and trigonometry and of practical surveying. It was then his in- tention to become a civil engineer. At that time, in this new and rapidly-growing country, there was great demand for such services, and the employment was very lucrative. There were then in the colonies but few men who were proficients in those sciences. George Washington came from school an accomplished man. He had formed his character upon the right model. Everything he did he did well. If he wrote a letter, every word was as plain as print, with spelling, capitals, punctuation, all correct. His diagrams and 14 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. tables were never scribbled off, but all executed with great beauty. These excellent habits, thus early formed, were retained through life. Upon leaving school George went to spend a little time with his elder half-brother, Lawrence, at Mount Vernon. Then, as now, that was an enchanting spot. The house was situated upon a swell of land, commanding an extensive view of the Potomac and of the surrounding country. It was nearly one hundred miles above the birthplace of the two children and the home of George. About eight miles from Mount Vernon an English gentleman, Mr. William Fairfax, resided. He was rich, with highly cultivated mind and polished manners, and a model for imitation in all private and social virtues. Lawrence Washington had married one of his daughters. George became intimate with the family, and derived much advan- tage from his association with these ladies. Lord Fairfax, a near relative of William, a man of large fortune and of romantic tastes, had been lured by the charms of this de- lightful region to purchase a vast territory, which extended far away, over the Blue Mountains, to an undefined distance in the interior. It was a property embracing rivers and mountains, forests and prairies, and wealth unexplored. Lord Fairfax was at that time visiting William. He was charmed with young Washington, his frankness, his intelligence, his manliness, his gentlemanly bearing, — a boy in years, a man in maturity of wisdom and character. Lord Fairfax engaged this lad, then but one month over sixteen years of age, to explore and survey these pathless wilds, a large portion of which was then ranged only by wild beasts and savage men. It may be doubted whether a lad of his age ever before undertook a task so arduous. With a few attendants, the boy entered the wilderness. It was the month of March, cold and blustering. Snow still lingered on the tops of the mountains, and whitened the sunless ravines. The spring freshets had swollen the rivers. The Indians were friendly, hospitable, and willing to act as guides. Frontiersmen, a rough and fearless set of men, were scattered about among the openings in the wilderness. Through these solitudes the heroic boy was to thread his way, now following the trail of the Indian, now floating in the birch canoe upon the silent rivers, and now climbing mountains or struggling through morasses which the foot of the white man had perhaps never GEORGE WASHINGTON. 15 yet pressed. Often the cabin of the settler afforded him shelter for a night. Frequently he slept in the open air, with bis feet to the fire. Again, the wigwam of the Indian was hospitably open to re- ceive him. It must have been a strange experience to this quiet, thoughtful, adventurous boy to find himself at midnight, in the forest, hundreds of miles from the haunts of civilization. The cry of the night-bird, the howl of the wolf, or perhaps the wailings of the storm, fell mournfully upon his ear. He gazed upon the brands flickering at his feet, on the ground-floor of the hut. The Indian warrior, his squaw, and the dusky papooses shared with him the fragrant hemlock couch. We have some extracts from the journal which he kept, which give us a vivid idea of the life he then led. Under date of March 15, 1748, he writes, — “Worked hard till night, and then returned. After supper, we were lighted into a room ; and I, not being so good a woodman as the rest, stripped myself very orderly, and went into the bed, as they call it, when, to my surprise, I found it to be nothing but a little straw matted together, without sheet or anything else, but only one threadbare blanket, with double its weight of vermin. I was glad to get up and put on my clothes, and lie as my companions did. Had we not been very tired, I am sure we should not have slept much that night. I made a promise to sleep so no more in a bed, choosing rather to sleep in the open air before a fire.” On the 2d of April he writes, “ A blowing, rainy night. Our straw, upon which we were lying, took fire ; but I was luckily pre- served by one of our men awaking when it was in a flame. We have run off four lots this day.” The following extract from one of his letters, written at this time, develops his serious, thoughtful, noble character, and also the ad- venturous life into which he had plunged : — “ The receipt of your kind letter of the 2d instant afforded me unspeakable pleasure, as it convinces me that I am still in the mem- ory of so worthy a friend, — a friendship I shall ever be proud of increasing. Yours gave me more pleasure, as I received it among barbarians and an uncouth set of people. Since you received my letter of October last, I have not slept above three or four nights in a bed; but, after walking a good deal all the day, I have lain down before the fire on a little hay, straw, fodder, or bear-skin, whichever was to be had, with man, wife, and children, like dogs and cats ; and 16 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. WASHINGTON THE SURVEYOR IN A PERILOUS SITUATION. happy is he who gets the berth nearest the fire. I have never had my clothes off, but have lain and slept on them, except the few nights I have been in Fredericksbirrg.” Such experiences rapidly develop and create character. George returned from this tramp with all his manly energies consolidated by toil, peril, and hardship. Though but seventeen years of age, he was a responsible, self-reliant man. The State of Virginia now employed him as public surveyor. For three years he was engaged in these laborious duties, which introduced him to scenes of romance and adventure, in which his calm, strong, well-regulated spirit found a singular joy. We can hardly conceive of anything more attractive than such a life must have been to a young man of poetic imagina- tion. The Indian paddled him, in his fairy-like canoe, along the river or over the lake. Now he stood, in the bright morning sun- light, upon the brow of the mountain, gazing over an interminable expanse of majestic forests, where lakes slept, and streams glided, and valleys opened in Eden-like beauty. Though he often, during GEORGE WASHINGTON. 17 these three years, visited the home of his mother, his headquarters, if we may so speak, were with his brother at Mount Vernon, as this was much more accessible from his field of labor. Lord Fairfax, who, it is said, was the victim of a love disappointment, had built him a substantial stone mansion in the valley beyond the Blue Ridge, where he was living in a sort of baronial splendor, and where George Washington was an ever welcome guest. At the age of nineteen George Washington was one of the prominent men of the State of Virginia. The Indians were now beginning to manifest a hostile spirit. There is between savage and civilized life an “ irrepressible conflict.” Where wild beasts range freely, offering food for the hunter, there cannot be highly cultivated fields. Where the hum of human industry is heard, with villages, churches, schools, and manufactories, there can be no forest left for buffaloes, bears, and deer. Civilization was rapidly sup- planting barbarism, and the savages were alarmed. They kindled their council-fires ; pondered the question of the encroachments of industry, education, and wealth ; and resolved, Satan-inspired, to sweep every vestige of civilization from the land, that this continent might remain a howling wilderness. The war-whoop echoed through the forest, and the Indians lighted their torches and sharpened their scalping-knives and tomahawks in preparation for the great battle. Billows of flame and woe deso- lated the land. Yelling savages rushed at midnight upon the cabin of the remote settler. Husband, wife, children, were all speedily massacred, and their bodies were consumed in the fire which de- stroyed their dwellings. No tongue can tell the woes which ensued. The whole military force of Virginia was called into action to meet this terrible foe, emerging at will from the forest, striking its ter- rific blows, and then retiring to those depths- of the wilderness where pursuit was unavailing. The State was divided into dis- tricts, over each of which a military commander was appointed with the title of major. The responsibilities of these majors were very great ; for, in the fearful emergency, they were necessarily in- trusted with almost dictatorial powers. George Washington, who, be it remembered, was but nineteen years of age, was one of these majors. With characteristic sagac- ity and energy, he applied himself to the study of the military art, familiarizing himself with strategy and tactics, making himself a 2 J 18 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. proficient in the manual exercise, and acquiring the accomplish- ments of a good swordsman. Ingredients of bitterness are mingled in every cup of life. Storm after storm sweeps the ocean. Law- rence Washington was attacked with a painful and fatal disease. With fraternal love, George accompanied him to the West Indies, hoping that tender nursing and a change of climate might save him. “ May you die at home ! ” is one of the Oriental benedic- tions. The invalid continued to fail during the tour, and only reached home in time to die. Virtues, like vices, love company, and live in groups. The Washingtons were a noble race. Law- rence was the worthy brother of George, endeared to his friends by every attraction which can make home happy. He died at the age of thirty-four, leaving an infant child and a broken-hearted widow. The grief of George was very bitter. The loss of such a brother, so noble, so loving, was irreparable. Lawrence had been to George as both father and brother. He left a large property. Mount Vernon was bequeathed to his infant daughter; and, should she die without heirs, it was to pass to George, who was the executor of the estate. Virginia, on the west, is bounded for a distance of several hun- dred miles by the waters of the Ohio, la belle riviere , as the French appropriately named it. England had seized the coast of the North American continent ; had peopled it with colonies, whose enter- prising, migratory population were rapidly crowding back into the vast and unexplored interior. France, with much sagacity, had seized the two most magnificent rivers of our land, the St. Law- rence and the Mississippi. Each of these European kingdoms, then equally powerful, was jealous of the other. While England was pushing her possessions rapidly towards the centre of the continent, France, equally eager to seize the boundless treasure, was rushing up the St. Lawrence and the Mississippi, establishing military posts and trading depots, forming treaties with the Indian tribes, and claiming, by right of these explorations, all that vast valley of mill- ions of square miles drained by the Mississippi and its tributaries, and by the St. Lawrence and its chain of lakes. Instead of settling the question by some amicable compromise, both parties determined to fight. Probably both were equally ar- rogant and unrelenting in their demands. John Bull has never been famed for the spirit of conciliation, and France has never been GEORGE WASHINGTON. 19 wanting in ambition. While the wordy warfare was raging between the two powerful contestants, the Indians shrewdly sent a deputa- tion to the Governor of Virginia, inquiring what portion of the country belonged to them, since England, as they expressed it, de- manded all the land on one side of the river, and France all upon the other. And now the dogs of war were let loose. France and England met, straining every nerve, upon the bloody arena. Both parties dragged the Indian tribes into the conflict. Woes ensued which can never be revealed until the judgment of the great day. Con- flagration, massacre, outrage, filled all homes with consternation, and deluged the land in misery. The solitude of the wilderness was broken, as savage bands burst from the forest, with the hideous war- whoop, upon the cabin of the lonely settler. The shrieks of the father, the mother, and the maiden, as they suffered all which savage brutality could devise, swept like the moaning wind through the wilderness, and no one was left to tell the tale. Just before hostilities commenced, the Governor of Virginia sent George Washington as a commissioner to remonstrate with the French against establishing their military posts upon the waters of the Ohio. To carry this remonstrance to the garrisons to which it was sent, it was necessary that he should traverse a wilderness for a distance of five hundred and sixty miles, where there was no path but the trail of the Indian, and no abode but the wigwam of the savage. In this undertaking, there were two objects in view. The ostensible one was to present the remonstrance ; the real one was to ascertain the number, strength, and position of the French gar- risons. It was a perilous enterprise. There was danger of perishing in the wilderness. There was danger from the' tomahawk of the savage. There was danger that the French might not allow the commissioner to return with information so valuable to their foes; and, in those rude times and regions, it was very easy so to arrange matters that the party could be plundered and massacred. No suit- able person could be found to run these risks until George Wash- ington volunteered his services. He was then but twenty years and six months of age. As Governor Dinwiddie, a sturdy old Scotch- man, eagerly accepted the proffered service, he exclaimed, — “ Truly, you are a brave lad ; and, if you play your cards well, you shall have no cause to repent your bargain.” 20 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. Washington started from Williamsburg on this perilous expedi- tion on the 14th of November, 1753. There is something very sub- lime in the calm courage with which he set out, well knowing that he was to pass through the region of hostile Indian tribes ; and that it was their practice not merely to kill their prisoners, but to pro- long their sufferings, as far as possible, through the most exquisite and diabolical tortures. He took with him but eight men, two of them being Indians. They soon passed the few sparse settlements which were springing up near the Atlantic coast, and plunged into the pathless forest. Winter was fast approaching, and its dismal gales wailed through the tree-tops. The early snow crowned the summits of the mountains, and the autumnal rains had swollen the brooks and the rivers. Guided by the sagacity of the Indians, they threaded the forest until they reached the Monongahela, which, flowing from the south, unites with the Alleghany from the north, and forms the Ohio. Here they took a canoe, and in eight days paddled down the river to the mouth of the Alleghany, where Pittsburgh now stands. They then descended the Ohio, with an ever-vigilant eye, for a distance of a hundred and twenty miles, to the principal port of the French commandant. Having successfully accomplished thus much of his mission, and fearing that the Indians might of their own will, or instigated by the French, intercept his return, he started, with but one faithful companion, to make his way back through the wil- derness on foot, with their packs on their backs and their guns in their hands. Washington’s suspicions proved not to be groundless. Some Indians were put upon their trail by the French. Washing- ton’s familiarity with wilderness life and Indian strategy enabled him to elude them. One Indian, however, succeeded in joining them, and offered his services as a guide. Treacherously he led them from their path, hoping to lure them into some ambush, and striving, but in vain, with all the arts of Indian cunning, to get pos- session of Washington’s gun. At night, seeing them so much fatigued by their day’s tramp that he thought that they could not possibly pursue him, he, at fifteen paces distant, fired at Washington, missed his aim, and sprang into the woods. He was caught. Washington’s companion, Gist, was for dispatching him on the spot; but Washington, regarding the wretched savage but as the tool of others, insisted upon letting him GEORGE WASHINGTON. 21 go. They did so ; and then, "without rest and without a guide, pushed on through the long December night. When they reached the Alleghany River, opposite the present site of Pittsburgh, they found the banks of the river fringed with ice, and large blocks drift- ing furiously down the middle of the stream. All day long, with one poor hatchet, they toiled to build a raft. It was a frail affair. As they struggled upon it through the broken masses of ice, it threatened every moment to go to pieces. In the middle of the stream, Washington’s setting-pole became entangled, and he was thrown into the river where it was ten feet deep. He was saved from drowning by clinging to a log. At length they succeeded in reaching an island, where they passed a dismal night, their clothes frozen into coats of mail. The night was so cold that in the morning the river was frozen over, and they crossed upon the ice. Washington’s journal of this tour was pub- lished in London, and attracted much attention, as it contained con- clusive proof that the French would resist any attempts of the Eng- lish to establish their settlements upon the Ohio. The Legislature of Virginia was in session at Williamsbui-g when Washington re- turned. Modestly, and unconscious that he would attract any at- tention, he went into the gallery to observe the proceedings. The speaker chanced to see him, and, rising, proposed that “The thanks of this house be given to Major Washington, who now sits in the gallery, for the gallant manner in which he has ex- ecuted the important trust lately reposed in him by his excellency the governor.” Every member of the house rose to his feet ; and Washington was greeted with a simultaneous and enthusiastic burst of applause. Embarrassed by the unexpected honal; and unaccustomed to public speaking, the young hero endeavored in vain to give utterance to his thanks. The speaker of the house happily came to his rescue, saying, “ Sit down, Major Washington : your modesty is alone equal to your merit.” Governor Dinwiddie, a reckless, headstrong man, instantly organ- ized a force, with orders “ to drive away, kill, or seize as prisoners, all persons, not the subjects of the king of Great Britain, who should attempt to take possession of the lands on the Ohio or any of its tributaries.” A regiment of about four hundred men was raised. Washington 22 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. was appointed colonel. His mission was to inarch again through the wilderness, and drive the French from the Ohio. Washington had selected the point at the junction of the Monongahela and the Alleghany for a fort. But the French anticipated him. As he was hurrying to this spot with his garrison, and with the tools to con- struct a fort, he was disappointed and alarmed to hear that the French were already at work, under skillful engineers, throwing up their ramparts upon the very spot which he had selected. A thousand men from Canada had descended the river in sixty bateaux and three hundred canoes. They had already eighteen pieces of cannon in position. Washington had arrived very near Fort Du- quesne before he received these tidings. The thought of attacking the French in such overpowering numbers, and behind their ram- parts, was madness. Retreat, in their exhausted state, back through the wilderness, was almost impossible. Besides, the French, through their spies, had kept a close watch upon them. Their Indian allies were on the march to intercept their retreat. Washington was then but twenty-two years of age. His sufferings, in view of the humil- iating surrender of his whole force without striking a blow, must have been awful. He was ready for almost any act of desperation rather than to do this. As yet, there was no war declared. The nations were at peace; not a hostile gun had been fired. In build- ing the fort on disputed territory, which was then in the hands of the French, the French had merely anticipated the English by a few days. It was said that Indian allies were marching against the English ; but this was rumor merely. No such foe had appeared. There is some little diversity of statement in reference to what im- mediately followed ; but, so far as can now be ascertained, the fol- lowing appear to be the facts'!? — The French say that they sent out M. Jumonville as a civil messenger to confer with the English respecting the object of their approach, as there was no declaration of war. Washington was informed that a party of French, from the fort, was on the march to attack him by surprise. Just - then there came a night dark and stormy, with floods of rain. Washington took forty men, leaving the rest to guard the camp, and through the midnight tempest and gloom, guided by some friendly Indians, reached, just before day- light in the morning, the camp where Jumonville and his men were unsuspectingly sleeping. Washington, regarding them as foes who GEORGE WASHINGTON. 23 Tvere on the march to strike him by surprise, fell instantly upon them. There was a short, fierce conflict. Jumonville and ten of his men were killed. A few escaped. The rest, twenty-five in number, were taken prisoners. The war was thus inaugurated, — a long, cruel, bloody war of seven years. This occurrence created great excitement at the time, and Wash- ington was very severely blamed ; but, now that the passions of that day have passed, the French magnanimously concur in the general verdict, that the event must be regarded as an untoward accident. Nothing is more certain than that Washington would have shrunk from any dishonorable deed. The peculiar perplexity and peril in which the young soldier was placed shield his fame from tarnish. But this act opened the drama of war with all its horrors. The French, apprised of the deed, and regarding it as one of the grossest of outrages (for Jumonville had really been sent as a peaceful mes- senger), immediately dispatched fifteen hundred men, French and Indians, to avenge the wrong. Washington could not retreat; neither could he fight such overwhelming numbers with any hope of success. Still he threw up such breastworks as could be hastily constructed, and, with less than four hundred men, fought for a whole day against the army which surrounded him. Starvation compelled him to capitulate. M. de Yillers, the French commander, was generous. The Virginia troops were allowed to retire with everything in their possession except their artillery. Thus they returned unmolested to the settlements. On the whole, Washington’s character did not suffer from this adventure. That he should be able to secure such favorable terms of capitulation, and march back his little force through the wilder- ness, notwithstanding the lawless character of the Indians, who, in such formidable numbers, were marshaled against him, was con- sidered evidence of both sagacity and military genius. Many of the wild frontiersmen, waifs from all lands, who had been gathered into the ranks of Washington’s army, were coarse and wicked men. Washington, as a gentleman and a Christian, abhorred the vice of profane swearing, to which they were very much addicted. The following record from one of the orders of the day will explain itself : — “ Colonel Washington has observed that the men of his regiment 24 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. are very profane and reprobate. He takes this opportunity to inform them of his great displeasure at such practices ; and assures them, that if they do not leave them off they shall be severely punished. The officers are desired, if they hear any man swear or make use of an oath or execration, to order the offender twenty-five lashes imme- diately, without a court-martial. For a second offense, he shall be more severely punished.” On another occasion, when commander-in-chief of the army strug- gling for our national independence, he invited a number of officers to dine witk him. At the table one of the guests, in conversation, uttered an oath. Washington dropped his knife and fork as sud- denly as if he had been struck a blow, and thus arrested the atten- tion of the whole company. In very deliberate and solemn tones he then said, “ I thought that I had invited only gentlemen to my table.” Early in the spi'ing of 1755 General Braddock, a self-conceited, stubborn man, landed in Virginia with two regiments of regular troops from Great Britain. Arrogant in the pride of his technical military education, he despised alike Frenchmen, Indians, and colo- nists. With his force, Braddock started on a march through the wilderness for the reduction of Fort Duquesne. Washington accom- panied him as volunteer aid. As he abandoned important domestic business, and received no remuneration whatever for his services, he must probably have been influenced by patriotism and the love of adventure. In a straggling line four miles in length, this army of two thousand men, totally unacquainted with Indian warfare, and thoroughly despising such barbaric foes, commenced its march, with ponderous artillery and a cumbrous baggage-train, through the for- est, for the distant junction of the Alleghany and the Mononga- hela. Washington, who well knew the foe they were to encounter, was alarmed at this recklessness, and urged greater caution. The regular British general was not to be taught the art of war by a provincial colonel, who had never even seen the inside of a military school. Successfully they had threaded the wilderness, and on a beautiful summer’s day they were exultingly marching along the banks of the Monongahela, when they entered a defile of rare pict- uresque beauty. The majestic forest spread around in all directions. On each side of a sort of natural path there was a dense growth of underbrush, GEORGE WASHINGTON'. 25 rising as high as the men’s heads. It would seem as though some bad genius had formed the spot for an Indian ambush. Proudly the army straggled along, with laughter and song, with burnished muskets and polished cannon and silken banners. They were British troops, led by British regular officers. What had they to fear from cowardly Frenchmen or painted savages ? It was one of those silent days, calm, serene, sunny, when all nature seems hushed and mo- tionless, which Herbert has so graphically described : — “ Sweet day, so still, so calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky.” Suddenly, like the burst of thunder from the cloudless heavens, came the crash of musketry, and a tempest of lead swept through their astounded ranks. Crash followed crash in quick succession, before, behind, on the right, on the left. No foe was to be seen ; yet every bullet accomplished its mission. The ground was soon covered with the dead, and with the wounded struggling in dying agonies. Amazement and consternation ran through the ranks. An unseen fire was assailing them. It was supernatural ; it was ghostly. Braddock stood his ground with senseless, bull-dog cour- age, until he fell pierced by a bullet. After a short scene of confu- sion and horror, when nearly half of the army were slain, the remnant broke in wild disorder and fled. The ambush was entirely suc- cessful. Six hundred of these unseen assailants were Indians. They made the forest ring with their derision in scorn of the folly of Braddock. Washington, through this awful scene, which he had been con- stantly anticipating, was perfectly collected, and, with the coolest courage, did everything which human sagacity could do to retrieve the disaster. Two horses were shot beneath him, and four bullets passed through his coat. It is one of the legepds of the day, that an Indian sharpshooter declared that Washington bore a charmed life; that he took direct aim at him several times, at the distance of but a few paces, and that the bullets seemed either to vanish into air or to glance harmless from his body. Eight hundred of Brad- dock’s army, including most of the officers, were now either dead or wounded. Washington rallied around him the few provincials, upon whom Braddock had looked with contempt. Each man instantly placed himself behind a tree, according to the necessities of forest warfare. 26 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. As the Indians were bursting from their ambush, with tomahawk and scalping-knife, to complete the massacre, the unerring fire of these provincials checked them and drove them back. But for this the army would have been utterly destroyed. All Washington’s endeavors to rally the British regulars were unavailing. Indignantly he writes, “ They ran like sheep before the hounds.” Panic-stricken, abandoning artillery and baggage, they continued their tumultuous retreat to the Atlantic coast. The provincials, in orderly march, protected them from pursuit. Braddock’s defeat rang through the land as Washington’s victory. The provincials, who in silent exas- peration, submitting to military authority, had allowed themselves to be led into this valley of death, proclaimed far and wide the cautions which Washington had urged, and the heroism with which he had rescued the remnant of the army. After the lapse of eighty years, a seal of Washington, containing his initials, which had been shot from his person, was found upon the battle-field, and is at the present time in possession of one of the family. The state of things in Virginia was now awful. The savages, exultant, having lapped blood, had all their wolfish natures roused to the most intense excitement. War was with them pastime, and the only field of renown. Advancing civilization, penetrating the forests, had scattered its villages and secluded farm-houses along a frontier of nearly four hundred miles. It is one of the mysteries of God’s providential government, which no finite mind can fathom, that He could have allowed such horrors. No imagination can picture them. Midnight conflagration, torture and outrage in every form which fiends could devise, became the amusement of bands of howling savages, who came and went like the wind. Fifteen hundred demons, calling themselves Indian braves, in gangs of sometimes but eight or ten, and again of several hundred, swept the frontier, making themselves merry with the shrieks of their victims, and showing no mercy to mothers or maidens or helpless infancy. The French made no attempt to pursue their advantage, but quietly retired to Fort Duquesne, there to await another assault, should the English decide to make one. A force, nominally of two thousand men, but in reality of but about seven hundred, was raised, and placed under the command of Washington, to protect the scattered villages and dwellings of this vast frontier. For three years Washington consecrated all his GEORGE WASHINGTON. 27 energies to this arduous and holy enterprise. It would require a volume to record the wonderful and awful scenes through which he passed during these three years. In after-life, Washington could not endure to recall the spectacles of suffering which, he witnessed, and which he could not alleviate. At the time, he wrote to the governor, — “The supplicating tears of the women, and moving petitions of the men, melt me into such deadly sorrow, that I solemnly declare I could offer myself a willing sacrifice to the butchering enemy, could that contribute to the people’s ease.” One day as Washington, with a small portion of his troops, was traversing a part of the frontier, he came upon a single log-house. It was in a little clearing which the settler had made by his axe, and which was surrounded on all sides by the forest. As they were ap- proaching the clearing, they heard the sound of a gun. Apprehend- ing some scene of violence and horror, they crept cautiously through the underbrush until they came in sight of the settler’s cabin. Smoke was curling up through the roof, while a party of savages were rioting around, laden with plunder, and flourishing dripping scalps. Upon the appearance of the soldiers, the savages, with the fleetness of deer, dashed into the forest. Washington thus describes the scene which met their eyes : — “ On entering we saw a sight that, though we were familiar with blood and massacre, struck us, at least myself, with feelings more mournful than I had ever experienced before. On the bed, in one corner of the room, lay the body of a young woman, swimming in blood, with a gash in her forehead which almost separated the head into two parts. On her breast lay two little babes, apparently twins, less than a twelvemonth old, with their heads also cut open. Their innocent blood, which once flowed in the same veins, now mingled in one current again. I was inured to scenes of bloodshed and misery ; but this cut me to the soul. Never in my after-life did I raise my hand against a savage, without calling to mind the mother with her little twins, their heads cleft asunder.” Eagerly the soldiers followed in the trail of the savages. They had gone but a few steps ere they found a little boy and his father, who had been working in the fields, both dead and scalped. The father had been plowing, and the boy was driving the horse. When the father was shot down, the terrified boy had run some dis- 28 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. tance towards his home ere he was overtaken and murdered. Thus the whole family was swept away. Such were then the perils of life on the frontier. No home was safe. The inmates of every cabin were liable, at midnight, to be roused by the yell of the sav- age ; and, while the torch was applied to the dwelling, the toma- hawk would sink into the brain. Washington writes, — “ On leaving one spot for the protection of another point of ex- posure, the scene was often such as I shall never forget. The women and children clung round our knees, beseeching us to stay and protect them, and crying out to us, for God’s sake, not to leave them to be butchered by the savages. A hundred times, I declare to Heaven, I would have laid down my life with pleasure, even under the tomahawk and scalping-knife, could I have insured the safety of those suffering people by the sacrifice.” In November, 1758, Fort Duquesne was wrested from the French, and the valley of the Ohio passed from their control forever. The Canadas soon after surrendered to Wolfe, and English supremacy was established upon this continent without a rival. Washington was now twenty-six years of age. The beautiful estate of Mount Vernon had descended to him by inheritance. On the 6th of January, 1759, he married Mrs. Martha Custis, a lady of great worth and beauty. Washington was already wealthy ; and his wife brought with her, as her dower, a fortune of one hundred thousand dollars. After the marvelously tumultuous scenes of his youth, he retired with his bride and her two children to the lovely retreat of Mount Vernon, where he spent fifteen years of almost unalloyed happiness. He enlarged the mansion, embellished the grounds, and by pur- chase made very considerable additions to his large estate. The stern discipline of life had subdued his passions. His habits were frugal, temperate, and methodical. His imposing mansion, the abode of a generous hospitality, was visited by the most distinguished men from all lands. Though a strict disciplinarian, he was a con- siderate and indulgent master. It was his invariable rule to retire to rest at nine o’clock, whether he had company or not. He rose at four o’clock in the morning. The religious interests of the little community around him deeply engaged his attention, and the gos- pel ministry received from him very efficient support. The follow- ing letter, which he wrote to a nephew who was chosen to the legislative assembly, contains admirable advice, and is an interest- ing development of his own character : — GEORGE WASHINGTON. 29 “ If you have a mind to command the attention of the house, speak seldom, but on important subjects. Make yourself perfectly master of the subject. Never exceed a decent warmth ; and submit your sentiments with diffidence. A dictatorial style, though it may carry conviction, is always accompanied with disgust.” At Mount Vernon Washington’s occupation was that of a large planter, raising wheat and tobacco. The wheat was ground upon the estate, and shipped for sale. The tobacco was sent to England ; from which country then almost every article of domestic use was imported. This splendid estate consisted of eight thousand acres, four thousand of which were in tillage : the remainder was in wood or uncultivated land. During these serene years of peace and pros- perity an appalling storm was gathering, which soon burst with fearful desolation over all the colonies. We now come down to the notable year 1775. The British ministry, denying the colonists the rights of British subjects,, in- sisted upon exercising the despotic power of imposing taxes upon the colonists, while withholding the right of representation. All American remonstrances were thrown back with scorn. Hireling soldiers were insultingly sent to enforce obedience to the mandates of the British crown. The Americans sprang to arms, called a Congress, and chose George Washington commander-in-chief. A more perilous post man never accepted. The whole population of the United States then did not exceed three millions ; being almost a million less than the present population of the single State of New York. England was the undisputed mistress of the seas, and the strongest military power upon the globe. The little hand- ful of colonists, who stepped forth to meet this Goliah in deadly conflict, had neither fleet, army, military resources, nor supplies. The odds were so fearful that it seems now strange that any cour- age could have met the encounter. Defeat to Washington would prove not merely ruin, but inevita- bly an ignominious death upon the scaffold. Sublimely he stepped forward from his home of opulence and domestic joy, and accepted all the responsibilities of the post. The green in Lexington had already been crimsoned with the blood of patriots, and the battle of Bunker’s Hill had rolled its echoes through Christendom. To a friend in England Washington wrote, — “ The Americans will fight for their liberties and property. Un- 30 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. happy it is, though, to reflect that a brother’s sword has been sheathed in a brother’s breast, and that the once happy and peace- ful plains of America are either to be drenched in blood or to be inhabited by slaves. Strange alternative ! But can a virtuous man hesitate in his choice?” To the Congress which elected him commander-in-chief of the American forces, he replied, — “ I beg leave to assure the Congress, that, as no pecuniary con- sideration could have tempted me to accept this arduous employ- ment at the expense of my domestic ease and happiness, I do not wish to make any profit from it. I will keep an exact account of my expenses. Those, I doubt not, they will discharge. That is all I desire.” To his wife, who was ever the object of his most respectful re- gard and tender affection, he wrote that it was his greatest afflic- tion to be separated from her, but that duty called, and he must obey. He said that he could not decline the appointment without dishonoring his name, and sinking himself even in her esteem. Twelve thousand British regulars were then intrenched on' Bunk- er’s Hill and in the streets of Boston. About fifteen thousand pro- vincial militia, wretchedly armed, and without any discipline, occu- pied a line nearly twelve miles in extent, encircling, on the land side, Charlestown and Boston. The British war-ships held undis- puted possession of the harbor. These veterans could, apparently with ease, at any time, pierce the thin. patriot line. It requires long discipline to transform a man, just taken from the endearments of home, into merely a part of that obedient, un- questioning machine called an army. A thousand trained soldiers are ever regarded as equal in military power to three or four times that number fresh from the pursuits of peaceful life. The British had opened fire at Lexington on the 19th of April, 1775. On the 2d of July Washington arrived in Cambridge and took command of the army. The ceremony took place under the elm-tree which still stands immortalized by the event. General Gage was com- mander of the British forces. He had been the friend of Wash- ington during the seven years’ war, and had fought by his side at the time of Braddock’s defeat ; and yet this General Gage seized every patriot upon whom he could lay his hands in Boston, and threw them all, without regard to station or rank, into loathsome GEORGE WASHINGTON. 31 dungeons. To General Washington’s remonstrance ag.dnsf such barbarity, he returned the insolent reply, — “ My clemency is great in sparing the lives of those who, by tnis laws of the land, are destined to the cord. I recognize no difference of rank but that which the king confers.” Washington at first resolved to retaliate upon the English pris- oners. But his generous nature recoiled from the inhumanity of punishing the innocent for the crimes of the guilty. He counter- manded the order, directing that the prisoners should be treated with all the humanity consistent with their security. In the sub- sequent and more successful war which the British government waged against popular rights in Europe, they practiced the same inhumanity. The Erench prisoners were thrown into hulks, and perished miserabty by thousands. Napoleon, like Washington, re- fused to retaliate upon the helpless captives in his hands for the infamous conduct of their government. At length, after surmounting difficulties more than can be enu- merated, Washington was prepared for decisive action. In a dark and stormy night of March he opened upon the foe in the city, from his encircling lines, as fierce a bombardment as his means would possibly allow. Under cover of this roar of the batteries and the midnight storm, he dispatched a large force of picked troops, with the utmost secrecy, to take possession of the Heights of Dor- chester. There, during the hours of the night, the soldiers worked with the utmost diligence in throwing up breast-works which would protect them from the broadsides of the English fleet. Having established his batteries upon those heights, he commanded the harbor ; and the English would be compelled to withdraw, or he would blow their fleet into the air. In the early dawn of the morning, while the gale swept sheets of mist and floods of rain over earth and sea, the British admiral saw, to his consternation, that a fort bristling with cannon had sprung up during the night, almost over his head. He immediately opened upon the works the broadsides of all his ships; but the Americans, defiant of the storm of iron which fell around them, continued to pile their sand-bags, and to ply their shovels, until ramparts so strong rose around them that no cannonade could injure them. The British fleet was now at the mercy of Washington’s batteries. In a spirit almost of desperation, the admiral ordered three thousand 32 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. men in boats to land and take the heights at every hazard. God came to the aid of the colonists. The gale increased to such fury that not a boat could be launched. Before another day and night had passed the redoubt could defy any attack. The situation of the two parties was now very singular. The British fleet was at the mercy of the Americans : Boston was at the mercy of the English. “ If you fire upon the fleet,” said General Howe, “I will burn the city.” — “If you harm the city,” said Washington, “I will sink your fleet.” By a tacit understanding, the English were permitted to retire unharmed, if they left the city uninjured. It was the morning of the 17th of March, 1776. The storm had passed away. The blue sky overarched the beleaguered city and the encamping armies. Washington sat upon his horse, serene and majestic, and contemplated in silent triumph, from the Heights of Dorchester, the evacuation of Boston. Every gun of his batteries was shotted and aimed at the hostile fleet. Every torch was lighted. The whole British army was crowded on board the ships. A fresh breeze from the west filled their sails ; and the hostile armament, before the sun went down, had disappeared beyond the distant ho- rizon of the sea. As the last boats, loaded to the gunwales with British soldiers, left the shore for the fleet, the exultant colonial army, with music and banners, marched over the Neck into the re- joicing city. It was a glorious victory, won by genius without the effusion of blood. Such another case, perhaps, history does not re- cord. Washington, without ammunition , had maintained his post for six months within musket-shot of a powerful British army. During this time he had disbanded the small force of raw militia he at first had with him, and had recruited another army ; and had then driven the enemy into his ships, and out into the sea. The British, thus expelled from Boston, gathered their strength of fleets and armies for an attack upon New York. The Congress, assembled in Philadelphia, which at first sought only the redress of grievances, now resolved to strike for independence. A committee was appointed, of which Thomas Jefferson was chairman, to draft a Declaration. The committee presented this immortal document to Congress, and it was unanimously adopted. History has recorded no spectacle more sublime than that which was witnessed as the members of the Continental Congress came forward, each one in his GEORGE WASHINGTON. 33 turn, to sign that paper, which would be his inevitable death-war- rant should the arms of America fail. Not one faltered. Every individual pledged to this sacred cause “ his life, his fortune, and his sacred honor.” It was the 4th of July, 1776. This Declaration was read from the steps of the State House in ■ Philadelphia to an immense concourse, and it was received with bursts of enthusiasm. It was sent to General Washington to be com- municated to the army, which he had now assembled in the vicinity of New York. The regiments were paraded to hear it read. It was greeted with tumultuous applause. The troops thus defiantly threw back the epithet of “rebellious colonists,” and assumed the proud title of “ The Army of the United States.” General Wash- ington, in an order of the day, thus alludes to this momentous oc- currence : — “ The general hopes that this important event will serve as a fresh incentive to every officer and soldier to act with fidelity and courage, as knowing that now the peace and safety of his country depend, under God, solely on the success of our arms, and that he is now in the service of a state possessed of sufficient power to reward his merit, and advance him to the highest honors of a free country.” The latter part of June, just before the Declaration of Independ- ence, two large British fleets, one from Halifax and the other direct from England, met at the mouth of the Bay of New York, and, disembarking quite a powerful army, took possession of Staten Island. Washington had assembled all his available military force to resist their advances. The British government regarded the leaders of the armies, and their supporters in Congress, as felons, doomed to the scaffold. They refused, consequently, to recognize any titles conferred by congressional authority. General Howe sent a flag of truce, with a letter, directed to Geoi'ge Washington, Esq. The letter was returned unopened. As occa- sional intercourse between the generals of the two armies was of very great moment, to regulate questions respecting the treatment of prisoners and other matters, General Howe, notwithstanding this merited repulse, wrote again, but insultingly to the same address. Again the letter was returned unopened, and with the emphatic announcement, that the commander-in-chief of the American army could receive no communication from General Howe which did not recognize his military position. The British officer then sent a 3 34 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. letter insolently addressed to George Washington , Usq., Sgc., £c. This letter was also refused. A communication was then sent to General George Washington. Thus were the members of the British Cabinet in London disci- plined into civility. General Howe frankly confessed that he had adopted this discourteous style of address simply to save himself from censure by the home government. Washington, writing to Congress upon this subject, says, — “ I would not, on any occasion, sacrifice essentials to punctilio ; but, in this instance, I deemed it my duty to my country, and to my appointment, to insist upon that respect, which, in any other than a public view, I would willingly have waived.” General Washington, a gentleman and a Christian, was exceed- ingly pained by that vulgar and wicked habit of profane swearing which was so prevalent among the troops. We have already al- luded to his abhorrence of this vice. In August, 1776, he issued the following notice to his army at New York : — “ The general is sorry to be informed that the foolish and profane practice of cursing and swearing, a vice hitherto little known in an American army, is growing into fashion. He hopes that the officers will, by example as well as by influence, endeavor to check it, and that both they and the men will reflect that we can have little hope of the blessing of Heaven on our aims if we insult it by our impiety and folly. Add to this, it is a vice so mean and low, without any temptation, that every man of sense and character detests and de- spises it.” Just before this he had written to Congress, earnestly soliciting chaplains for the army. In this plea he writes, “ The blessing and protection of Heaven are at all times necessary, but especially so in times of public distress and danger. The general hopes and trusts that every officer and man will endeavor to live and act as becomes a Christian soldier.” By the middle of August the British had assembled, on Staten Island and at the mouth of the Hudson River, a force of nearly thirty thousand soldiers, with a numerous and well-equipped fleet. To oppose them Washington had about twelve thousand men, poorly armed, and quite unaccustomed to military discipline and to the hardships of the camp. A few regiments of American troops, about five thousand in number, were gathered near Brooklyn. A few GEORGE WASHINGTON. 35 thousand more were stationed at other points on Long Island. The English landed without opposition, fifteen thousand strong, and made a combined assault upon the Americans. The battle was short, but bloody. The Americans, overpowered, sullenly retired, leaving fifteen hundred of their number either dead or in the hands of the English. Washington witnessed this rout with the keenest anguish ; for he could not detach any troops from New York to arrest the carnage. To remain upon the island was certain destruction ; to attempt to retreat was difficult and perilous in the extreme. The East River flowed deep and wide between the few troops on the island and their friends in New York. The British fleet had already weighed anchor, and was sailing up the Narrows to cut off their retreat. A vastly superior force of well-trained British troops, flushed with victory, pressed upon the rear of the dispirited colonists. Their situation seemed desperate. Again Providence came to our aid. The wind died away to a perfect calm, so that the British fleet could not move. A dense fog was rolled in from the ocean, which settled down so thick upon land and river, that, with the gathering darkness of the night, one’s out- stretched hand could scarcely be seen. The English, strangers to the country, and fearing some surprise, could only stand upon the defensive. The Americans, familiar with every foot of the ground, improved the propitious moments with energies roused to their highest tension. Boats were rapidly collected ; and, in the few hours of that black night, nine thousand men, with nearly all their artillery and military stores, were safely landed in New York. The transportation was conducted so secretly, with muffled oars and , hushed voices, that though the Americans could hear the English at work with their pickaxes, and were even witliin hearing of the challenge of the hostile sentinels, the last boat had left the Long Island shore ere the retreat was suspected. God does not always help the “ heavy battalions.” The British now presented themselves in such force, of both fleet and army, that Washington, with his feeble and dispirited band, was compelled to evacuate the city. A rash and headstrong man would have been goaded to desperation, and would have risked a general engagement, which, in all probability, would have secured our in- evitable ruin. A man easily depressed by adversity would, in hours 36 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. apparently so hopeless, have abandoned the cause. Washington wrote to Congress, — “ Our situation is truly distressing. The check our detachment received has dispirited too great a proportion of our troops, and filled their minds with apprehension and despair. The militia, instead of calling forth their utmost efforts to a brave and manly opposition in order to repair our losses, are dismayed, intractable, and impatient to return to their homes.” The American army was now in a deplorable condition. It had neither arms, ammunition, nor food. The soldiers were unpaid, almost mutinous, and in rags. There were thousands in the vicinity of New York who were in sympathy with the British ministry. Nearly all the government officials and their friends were on that side. A conspiracy was formed, in which a part of Washington’s own guard was implicated, to seize him, and deliver him to that ignominious death to which the British crown had doomed him. We were then, not a nation, but merely a confederacy of independent colonies. There was no bond of union, no unity of counsel, no con- centration of effort. Each colony furnished such resources as it found to be convenient, or withheld them at its sovereign pleasure. Eng- land’s omnipotent fleet swept, unobstructed, ocean and river and bay. Her well-drilled armies, supplied with the most powerful weapons and strengthened with all abundance, tramped contemptu- ously over the land, scattering our militia before them, burning and destroying in all directions. General Howe, despising his foe, and confident that the colonists could present no effectual resistance to his powerful army, issued his proclamations, offering pardon to all who would bow the neck in unquestioning obedience to the dictation of the British king, excepting only Washington, Franklin, and a few others of the most illustrious of the patriots. Washington was equal to the crisis. He saw that the only hope was to be found in avoiding an engagement, and in wearing out the resources of the enemy in protracted campaigns. To adopt this course required great moral courage and self-sacrifice. To rush madly into the conflict, and sell life as dearly as possible, required mere ordinary daring. Thousands could be found capable of this. Animal courage is the cheapest of all virtues. The most effeminate races on the globe, by a few months of suitable drilling, can be con- verted into heroic soldiers, laughing lead and iron and steel to scorn. GEORGE WASHINGTON. 37 But to conduct an army persistently through campaigns of inevitable defeat ; ever to refuse a battle ; to meet the enemy only to retire before him ; to encounter silently the insults and scorn of the foe ; to be denounced by friends for incapacity and cowardice ; and, while at the head of a mere handful of ragged and unfurnished troops, to be compelled, in order to save that little handful from destruction, to allow the country as well as the enemy to believe that one has a splendid army, splendidly equipped, — this requires a degree of moral courage and an amount of heroic virtue, which, thus far in the history of this world, has been developed only in George Wash- ington. America had many able generals ; but it may be doubted whether there was another man on this continent who could have conducted the unequal struggle of the American Revolution to a successful issue. Washington slowly retired from New York to the Heights of Haarlem, with sleepless vigilance watching every movement of the foe, that he might take advantage of the slightest indiscretion. Here he threw up breastworks, which the enemy did not venture to attack. The British troops ascended the Hudson and the East River to assail Washington in his rear. A weary campaign of marches and counter-marches ensued, in which Washington, with scarcely the shadow of an army, sustained, in the midst of a constant succession of disasters, the apparently hopeless fortunes of his coun- try. At one time General Reed in anguish exclaimed, — “ My God ! General Washington, how long shall we fly ? ” Serenely General Washington replied, “We shall retreat, if nec- essary, over every river of our country, and then over the mountains, where I will make a last stand against our enemies.” Washington crossed the Hudson into the Jerseys. The British pursued him. With consummate skill, he baffled all the efforts of the foe. With an army reduced to a freezing, -starving band of but three thousand men, he retreated to Trenton. The British pressed exultantly on, deeming the conflict ended and the Revolution crushed. The Congress in Philadelphia, alarmed by the rapid approach of the foe, hastily adjourned to Baltimore. It was December, with its wintry gales and frozen ground and storms of sleet. The “ strong battalions ” of the foe tracked the patriots by the blood of their lacer- ated feet. With great difficulty Washington succeeded in crossing the Delaware in boats, just as the British army, in all its pride and 38 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. power, with horsemen, infantrymen, banners, music, and ponderous artillery, arrived upon the banks of the stream. Nearly all of New Jersey was now in the hands of the British. They needed but to cross the river to take possession of Philadelphia. The ice was now so rapidly forming that they would soon be able to pass at any point without obstruction. The enemy, with apparently nothing to fear, relaxed his vigilance. The British officers, welcomed by the Tories in the large towns, were amusing themselves with feasting and danc- ing, until the blocks of ice, sweeping down the stream, should be consolidated into a firm foothold. The night of the 25th of December, 1776, was very dark and in- tensely cold. A storm of wind and snow raged so violently that both man and beast were forced to seek shelter. The British officers and soldiers, considering the patriots utterly dispersed, and that a broad, deep, icy river flowed between them and the retreating Amer- ican bands, gathered around the firesides. In the darkness of that wintry night, and amidst the conflict of its elements, Washington re- embarked his troops to recross the Delaware, and to plunge with all his strength into the midst of the unsuspecting foe. In this heroic deed there were combined the highest daring and prudence. Facing the storm, and forcing his boats through the floating blocks of ice, he succeeded, before daylight the next morn- ing, in landing upon the opposite shore twenty-four hundred men and twenty pieces of cannon. The British were carelessly dispersed, not dreaming of danger. The Americans sprang upon the first body of the foe they met, and, after a short but bloody strife, scattered them, capturing a thousand prisoners and six cannon. Elated with this success, which astounded and humbled the foe, the American troops recrossed the river, and gained their encampment in safety. The British were so alarmed by this indication of vitality in the American army, that they retreated to Princeton, and Washington took possession of Trenton. Soon the foe, under Lord Cornwallis, having received large reinforcements, marched upon Trenton, con- fident that General Washington could no longer escape them. It was at the close of a bleak winter day that Cornwallis with his army appeared before the lines which Washington had thrown up around Trenton. Sir William Erskine urged the British commander to make an immediate attack. Cornwallis replied, — “ Our troops are hungry and weary. Washington and his tatter- GEORGE WASHINGTON. 39 demalions cannot escape ; for the ice of the Delaware will neither bear their weight nor admit the passage of their boats. To-mor- row, at the break of day, I will attack them. The rising sun shall see the end of the rebellion.” The sun rose the next morning, cold but cloudless. In the night the American army had vanished. Solitude reigned along those lines which, the evening befoi’e, had been crowded with the ranks of war. Replenishing his camp-fires to deceive the enemy, at mid- night, with the utmost precaution and precipitation, he evacuated his camp, and, by a circuitous route, fell upon the rear of the Eng- lish at Princeton. The sun was just rising as Washington’s troops plunged upon the foe in this totally unexpected onset. A hundred and sixty of the British were shot down, and three hundred were taken prisoners. While this event was taking place at Princeton, Lord Cornwallis stood upon an eminence, gazing in astonishment uj3on the deserted and waning fires of the Americans. Quite bewildered, he pressed his hand to his brow, exclaiming, “Where can Washington be gone?” Just then the heavy booming of the battle at Princeton fell upon his ear. “ There he is !” he added. “By Jove! Wash- ington deserves to fight in the cause of his king.” Cheered by this success, Washington led his handful of troops to the Heights of Morristown. There he intrenched them for winter-quarters. He, however, sent out frequent detachments, which so harassed the enemy that, in a short time, New Jersey was delivered from the presence of the foe. The country became somewhat animated by these achievements, and Congress roused itself to new energies. Washington, as we have said, was an earnest Christian. When the army was in the environs of Morristown, N. J., the communion service was to be administered in the Presbyterian church of the village. General Washington called upon Rev. Dr. Jones, then pas- tor of the church, and said to him, “ Doctor, I understand that the Lord’s Supper is to be celebrated with you next Sunday. I would learn if it accords with the rules of your church to admit commu- nicants of other denominations ? ” “Certainly,” was the reply. “Ours is not the Presbyterian table, general, but the Lord’s table ; and we give the Lord’s invita- tion to all his followers, of whatever name.” “ I am glad of it,” the general replied. “That is as it ought to 40 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. be. But, as I was not quite sure of the fact, I thought I would ascertain it from yourself, as I propose to join with you on that occasion. Though a member of the Church of England, I have no exclusive partialities.” The doctor reassured him of a cordial welcome, and the general was found seated with the communicants next Sabbath. During the remainder of the winter vigorous efforts were made in preparation for the opening of the spring campaign. The differ- ent States sent troops to join the army at Morristown. The people of France, in cordial sympathy with our cause, sent two vessels, containing twenty-four thousand muskets, to General Washington. Immense embarrassments were, however, continually experienced, from the fact that we were not a nation, but a mere conglomeration of independent States. Each State decided for itself the pay it would offer to the troops. Each State claimed the right to with- hold any portion of its troops for its own security, however much they might be needed for the general service. It was these diffi- culties of the old confederacy which induced “ the people of the United States ” to form themselves into a nation , with certain clearly defined rights reserved for the individual States. The sympathy excited in behalf of our cause in France was of invaluable service to us. The Marquis de Lafayette left his man- sion of opulence, and his youthful bride, to peril his life in the cause of American independence. The British officers, harassed by Washington’s sleepless vigilance, and yet unable to compel him or to lure him into a general engagement, ascended the Delaware in a fleet, with eighteen thousand soldiers, to capture Philadelphia. They landed near Elkton, at the head of Chesapeake Bay. Wash- ington, with but eleven thousand men, marched to encounter them. The two hostile bodies met on the banks of the Brandywine. A bloody battle ensued. Lafayette was wounded. The Americans, overpowered, were compelled to retire. With unbroken ranks, and determination still unflinching, they retired upon Philadelphia. Congress had now invested Washington with nearly dictatorial powers, and the whole country approved of the act. In Philadel- phia the army was rapidly recruited ; and before the British had recovered from the blows which they received at the Brandywine, Washington was again upon the march to meet them. It was so important to save Philadelphia from the enemy, that he resolved to GEORGE WASHINGTON. 41 hazard another battle. The two forces again met, about twenty- three miles from the city. Just as the battle commenced, a storm arose, so violent, and with such floods of rain, that neither army could long pursue the contest. Washington, after a short but severe engagement at Germantown, retired with his ammunition spoiled, and the British took possession of Philadelphia. Congress precipitately adjourned to Lancaster, and thence to York. For eight months the English held the city. Various petty battles ensued, some of them quite sanguinary, but none leading to any important results. The Americans were, however, acquiring experience, and continually gaining new courage. The surrender of Burgoyne, which occurred about this time at Saratoga, rolled a surge of exultation through all the States. Winter again came. The British were comfortably housed in Philadelphia, in the enjoyment of every luxury. Washington se- lected Valley Forge, about twenty miles from Philadelphia, as his secure retreat for winter-quarters. The soldiers commenced rearing their log-huts here the latter part of December. Each hut was fourteen feet by sixteen, and accommodated twelve soldiers. The encampment, which was well protected by earth-works, presented the aspect of a very picturesque city, with neatly arranged streets and avenues. Eleven thousand men here passed the winter of 1777 and 1778. It was a period of great discouragement and suffering. The army was destitute of food, clothing, arms, and powder, — in a state of destitution which Washington did not dare to proclaim abroad, lest the foe should rush upon him in his helplessness. The commander-in-chief was assailed with terrible severity for this in- action. Though Washington felt these reproaches keenly, he en- dured them all with that external imperturbability of spirit which so wonderfully characterized him throughout all the conflict. He wrote to Mr. Laurens, President of Congress, — “ My enemies take an ungenerous advantage of me. They know the delicacy of my situation, and that motives of policy deprive me of the defense I might otherwise make against their insidious at- tacks. They know I cannot combat their insinuations, however injurious, without disclosing secrets it is of the utmost moment to conceal. But why should I expect to be exempt from censure, the unfailing lot of an elevated station ? Merit and talent, which I can- not pretend to rival, have ever been subject to it.” 42 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. It was in this dark hour of our struggle that France generously came forward to our aid ; recognizing our independence, entering into a friendly alliance with us, and sending both a fleet and an army to our support. But for this efficient assistance it is scarcely possible that our independence could then have been achieved. The tidings of the French alliance were received at Valley Forge with unutterable joy. The most dishonorable means were now taken by our enemies to paralyze the influence of Washington by destroy- ing his reputation. A pamphlet was published in London, and scattered widely throughout the States, containing forged letters, purporting to be private letters from Washington to his wife, found in a portmanteau taken from a servant of Washington after the evacuation of Fort Lee. The forgery was skillfully got up. The letters denounced Con- gress for madness in declaring independence, and contained many expressions, which, if true, proved Washington to be totally unfit to be in command of the American armies. But fortunately the reputation of the commander-in-chief was too firmly established in this country to be thus demolished. The British army now in New York and Philadelphia amounted to thirty thousand men. The whole American army did not exceed fifteen thousand. But the alliance with France gave us the assurance that reinfoi’cements would soon come to our aid. The British, apprehensive that a French fleet might soon appear, and thus endanger the troops in Phila- delphia, evacuated the city, and sent their heavy material of war to New York by water, while the troops commenced their march through New Jersey. The cold of winter had given place to the heat of summer. Washington followed closely in the rear of the foe, watching for a chance to strike. The 28th of June, 1788, was a day of intense heat. Not a breath of air was stirring, while an unclouded sun poured down its blistering rays upon pursuers and pursued. The British troops were at Monmouth. The march of one more day would so unite them with the army in New York, that they would be safe from attack. Washington ordered an assault. General Lee, with five thousand men, was in the advance. Washington sent orders to him immediately to commence the onset, with the assurance that he would hasten to his support. As Washington was pressing eagerly forward, to his inexpressible chagrin he met GEORGE WASHINGTON. 43 General Lee at the head of his troops, in full retreat. It is said that Washington, with great vehemence of manner and utterance, cried out, “ General Lee, what means this ill-timed prudence ? ” The re- treating general threw back the angry retort, “ I know of no man blessed with a larger portion of that rascally virtue than your ex- cellency.” It was no time for altercation. Washington turned to the men. They greeted him with cheers. At his command they wheeled about and charged the enemy. A sanguinary battle ensued, and the English were driven from the field. Night closed the scene. The colonists slept upon their arms, prepared to renew the battle in the morning. Washington, wrapping his cloak around him, threw himself upon the grass, and slept in the midst of his soldiers. When the morning dawned, no foe was to be seen. The British had retreated in the night to the Heights of Middletown. They left three hundred of their dead behind them. The Americans lost but sixty-nine. The British also lost one hundred in prisoners, and over six hundred had deserted from their ranks since they left Phil- adelphia. The English common soldiers had but little heart to fight against their brothers who were struggling for independence. At Middletown the British embarked on board their ships, and were conveyed to New York. They had now inhumanly summoned the Indians to their aid. The tomahawk and the scalping-knife were mercilessly employed. Towns, villages, farm-houses, were burned, and their inhabitants — men, women, and children — were massacred by savages inspired with the fury of demons. The British ministry encouraged these atrocities. They said that rebellious America must be punished into submission; and that, in inflicting this punishment, it was right to make use of all the instruments which God and Nature had placed in their hands. But it must not be forgotten that there were many noble English- men who espoused our cause. Some of the ablest men in both the House of Commons and the House of Lords, and thousands through- out England, were in cordial sympathy with the colonists struggling for their rights. Instead of adopting the execrable sentiment, “ Our country, right or wrong,” they acted upon that noble maxim, “ Our country, — when right, to be kept right ; when wrong, to be put right.” Of these men, some pleaded for us at home, some aided us 44 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. with their money and counsel, and some entered our ranks as offi- cers and soldiers. Lord Chatham, in tones which echoed through- out the civilized world, exclaimed in the House of Lords, and at the very foot of the throne, “ Were I an American, as I am an English- man, I would never lay down my arms, — never, never, never ! ” Another cold and cheerless winter came ; and the American army went into winter-quarters mainly at West Point, on the Hudson. The British remained within their lines at New York. They sent agents, however, to the Six Nations of Indians, to arm them against our defenseless frontier. These fierce savages, accompanied by Tory bands, perpetrated horrors too awful for recital. The mas- sacres of Cherry Valiey and of Wyoming were among the most aw- ful of the tragedies which have ever been witnessed on this globe. The narrative of these fiendish deeds sent a thrill of horror through England as well as America. Four thousand men were sent by Washington into the wilderness, to arrest, if possible, these mas- sacres. The savages, and their still more guilty allies, were driven to Niagara, where they were received into an English fortress. The summer campaign opened with an indiscriminate devastation and plunder, pursued vigorously by the English. “ A war of this sort,” said Lord George Germain, “will probably induce the rebell- ious provinces to return to their allegiance.” The British now con- centrated their forces for an attack upon West Point, and to get the control of the upper waters of the Hudson. Washington detected and thwarted their plan. General Clinton, who was then in com- mand of the British forces, exasperated by this discomfiture, com- menced a more vigorous prosecution of a system of violence and plunder upon the defenseless towns and farm-houses of the Ameri- cans who were unprotected. The sky was reddened with wanton conflagration. Women and children were driven houseless into the fields. The flourishing towns of Fairfield and Norwalk, in Connec- ticut, were reduced to ashes. While the enemy was thus ravaging that defenseless State, Wash- ington planned an expedition against Stony Point, on the Hudson, which was held by the British. General Wayne conducted the en- terprise, on the night of the 15th of July, with great gallantry and success. Sixty-three of the British were killed, five hundred and forty-three were taken prisoners, and all the military stores of the fortress captured. During this summer campaign the American GEORGE WASHINGTON. 45 army was never sufficiently strong to take the offensive. It was, however, incessantly employed striking blows upon the English wherever the eagle eye of Washington could discern an exposed spot. The winter of 1779 set in early, and with unusual severity. The American army was in such a starving condition that Washington was compelled to make the utmost exertions to save his wasting band from annihilation. Incited by his urgent appeals, the colonies made new efforts to augment their forces for a more vigorous cam- paign in the spring. Cheering intelligence arrived that a land and naval force might soon be expected from our generous friends the French. In July twelve vessels of war arrived from France, with arms, ammunition, and five thousand soldiers. This squadron was, how- ever, immediately blockaded in Newport by a stronger British fleet ; and another expedition, which was about to sail from Brest, in France, was effectually shut up in that port. The war still raged in detachments, widely spread ; and conflagration, blood, and misery deluged our unhappy land. These long years of war and woe filled many even of the most sanguine hearts with despair. Not a few true patriots deemed it madness for the colonies, impoverished as they now were, any longer to contend against the richest and most powerful monarchy upon the globe. General Arnold, who was at this time in command at West Point, saw no hope for his country. Believing the ship to be sinking, he ingloriously sought to take care of himself. He turned traitor, and offered to sell his fortress to the English. The treason was detected : but the traitor escaped ; and the lamented Andre, who had been lured into the position of a spy, became the necessary victim of Arnold’s crime. Lord Cornwallis was now, with a well-provided army and an as- sisting navy, overrunning the two Carolinas. General Greene was sent, with all the force which Washington could spare, to watch and harass the invaders, and to furnish the inhabitants with all the protection in his power. Lafayette was in the vicinity of New York, with his eagle eye fixed upon the foe, ready to pounce upon any detachment which presented the slightest exposure. Washing- ton was everywhere, with patriotism which never flagged, with hope which never failed, cheering the army, animating the inhabitants, 46 LIVES OF TIIE PRESIDENTS. rousing Congress, and guiding with his well-balanced mind both military and civil legislation. Thus the dreary summer of 1780 lingered away in our war-scathed land. Again our heroic little army went into winter-quarters, mainly on the banks of the Hudson. As the spring of 1781 opened, the war was renewed. The British directed their chief attention to the South, which was far weaker than the North. Richmond, in Virginia, was laid in ashes ; and a general system of devastation and plunder prevailed. The enemy ascended the Chesapeake and the Potomac with armed vessels. They landed at Mount Vernon. The manager of the estate, to save the mansion from pillage and flames, furnished the legalized robbers with abundance of supplies. Washington was much displeased. He wrote to his agent, — “ It would have been a less painful circumstance to me to have heard, that, in consequence of your non-compliance with their re- quest, they had burned my house, and laid the plantation in I’uins. You ought to have considered yourself as my representative, and should have reflected on the bad example of communicating with the enemy, and making a voluntary offer of refreshments to them, with a view to prevent a conflagration.” The prospects of the country were still very dark. On the 1st of of May, 1781, Washington wrote, “ Instead of magazines filled with provisions, we have a scanty pittance scattered here and there in the different States. Instead of arsenals well supplied, they are poorly provided, and the workmen all leaving. Instead of having field-equipage in readiness, the quartermaster-general is but now applying to the several States to supply these things. Instead of having the regiments completed, scarce any State has, at this hour, an eighth part of its quota in the field ; and there is little prospect of their ever getting more than half. In a word, instead of having everything in readiness to take the field, we have nothing. Instead of having the prospect of a glorious offensive campaign, we have a gloomy and bewildering defensive one, unless we should receive a powerful aid of ships, land-troops, and money from our generous allies.” The army had in fact, about this time, dwindled away to three thousand; and the paper-money issued by Congress, with which the troops were paid, had become almost entirely valueless. Lord Cornwallis was now at Yorktown, in Virginia, but a few miles GEORGE WASHINGTON. 47 from Chesapeake Bay. There was no force in his vicinity seriously to annoy him. Washington resolved, in conjunction with our allies from France, to make a bold movement for his capture. He suc- ceeded in deceiving the English into the belief that he was making great preparations for the siege of New York. Thus they were prevented from rendering any aid to Yorktown. By rapid marches Washington hastened to encircle the foe. Early in September Lord Cornwallis, as he arose one morning, was amazed to see, in the rays of the morning sun, the heights around him gleaming with the bayonets and the batteries of the Ameri- cans. At about the same hour the French fleet appeared, in invincible strength, befoi’e the harbor. Cornwallis was caught. There was no escape ; there was no retreat. Neither by land nor by sea could he obtain any supplies. Shot and shell soon began to fall thickly into his despairing lines. Famine stared him in the face. After a few days of hopeless conflict, on the 19th of October, 1781, he was compelled to surrender. Seven thousand British veterans laid down their arms to the victors. One hundred and sixty pieces of cannon, with corresponding militai’y stores, graced the triumph. Without the assistance of our generous allies the French, we could not have gained this victory. Let not our grati- tude be stinted or cold. When the British soldiers were marching from their intrench- ments to lay down their arms, Washington thus addressed his troops : “ My brave fellows, let no sensation of satisfaction for the triumphs you have gained induce you to insult your fallen enemy. Let no shouting, no clamorous huzzaing, increase their mortifica- tion. Posterity will huzza for us.” This glorious capture roused hope and vigor all over the country. The British Cabinet became disheartened by our indomitable perse- verance. The darkness of the long night was passing away. The day after the capitulation, Washington devoutly issued the follow- ing order to the army : — “ Divine service is to be performed to-morrow in the several brig- ades and divisions. The commander-in-chief earnestly recommends that the troops not on duty should universally attend, with that seriousness of deportment and gratitude of heart which the recog- nition of such reiterated and astonishing interpositions of Provi- dence demands of us.” 48 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. The joyful tidings reached Philadelphia at midnight. A watch- man traversed the streets, shouting at intervals, “ Past twelve o’clock, and a pleasant morning. Cornwallis is taken ! ” These words rang upon the ear almost like the trump which wakes the dead. Candles were lighted ; windows thrown up ; fig- ures in night-robes and night-caps bent eagerly out to catch the thrilling sound; shouts were raised ; citizens rushed into the streets, half clad, — they wept ; they laughed. The news flew upon the wings of the wind, nobody can tell how ; and the shout of an en- franchised people rose, like a roar of thunder, from our whole land. With France for an ally, and with such a victory, the question was now settled, and forever, that republican America would never again yield to the aristocratic government of England. Though the fury of the storm was over, the billows of war had not yet subsided. Washington, late in November, 1781, again re- tired to winter-quarters. He urged Congress to make preparations for the vigorous prosecution of the war in the spring, as the most effectual means of securing a speedy and an honorable peace. The conviction was now so general that the war was nearly at an end, that with difficulty ten thousand men were marshaled in the camp. The army, disheartened by the apparent inefficiency of Congress, — for Congress had really but very little power, being then only a collection of delegates from independent States, — very emphat- ically expressed the wish that Washington would assume the su- preme command of the government, and organize the country into a constitutional kingdom, with himself at the head. But Washington was a republican. He believed that the peo- ple of this country, trained in the science of legislation, religious in their habits, and intelligent, were abundantly capable of governing themselves. He repelled the suggestion promptly, and almost in- dignantly. Early in May the British Cabinet opened negotiations for peace. Hostilities were, by each party, tacitly laid aside. Negotiations were protracted in Paris during the summer and the ensuing winter. Washington had established his headquarters at Newburg, on the Hudson, and was busy in consolidating the interests of our divided and distracted country. A government of republican liberty, and yet of efficiency, was to be organized ; and its construction required the highest energies of every thinking mind. GEORGE WASHINGTON. 49 It was also necessary to keep the array ever ready for battle ; for a new conflict might at any moment break out. Thus the summer and winter of 1782 passed away. The snow was still lingering in the laps of the Highlands when the joyful tidings arrived that a treaty of peace had been signed at Paris. The intelligence was communicated to the American army on the 19th of April, 1783, — just eight years from the day when the conflict was commenced on the Common at Lexington. England had for eight years deluged this land with blood and woe. Thou- sands had perished on the gory field of battle ; thousands had been beggared ; thousands had been made widows and orphans, and doomed to a life-long wretchedness. It was the fearful price which America paid for independence. Late in November the British evacuated New York, entered their ships, and sailed for their distant island. Washington, marching from West Point, entered the city as our vanquished foes departed. It was a joyful day, and no untoward incident marred its festivities. America was free and independent. Washington was the savior of his country. And now the day arrived when Washington was to take leave of his companions in arms, to retire to his beloved retreat at Mount Yernon. The affecting interview took place on the 4th of Decem- ber. Washington, with a flushed cheek and a swimming eye, en- tered the room where the principal officers of his army were as- sembled. His voice trembled with emotion as he said, — “ With a heart full of love and gratitude, I now take leave of you. I most devoutly wish that your latter days may be as prosperous and happy as your former ones have been glorious and honorable. I cannot come to each of you to take my leave, but shall be obliged if each of you will come and take me by the hand.” All unaccustomed as Washington was to exhibit emotion, he was now quite overcome. Tears blinded his eyes, and he could say no more. One after another, these heroic men silently grasped his hand in this last parting. Not a word was spoken. It was a scene of those invisible strugglings of the spirit which the pencil cannot picture, and which words cannot describe. Washington traveled slowly towards his beloved home at Mount Vernon, from which he had so long been absent. In every city and village through which he passed, he was greeted with love and veneration. At Annapolis 4 50 LIVES OF TEE PRESIDENTS. The next day he returned to Mount Vernon. The following ex- tract from a letter which he then wrote to Lafayette reveals those gentle and domestic traits of character which had been somewhat veiled by the stern duties of his military career : — “ At length I am become a private citizen : and under the shadow of my own vine and fig-tree, free from the bustle of a camp and the busy scenes of public life, I am solacing myself with those tranquil enjoyments, of which the soldier, who is ever in pursuit of he met the Continental Congress, where he was to resign his com- mission. It was the 23d of December, 1783. All the members of Congress, and a large concourse of spectators, were present. His address was closed with the following words : — “ Having now finished the work assigned me I retire from the great theatre of action, and bidding an affectionate farewell to this august bodjq under whose orders I have so long acted, I here offer my commission, and take my leave of all the employments of public life.” MOUNT VERNON. GEORGE WASHINGTON. 51 fame ; the statesman, whose watchful days and sleepless nights are spent in devising schemes to promote the welfare of his own, per- haps the ruin of other countries, as if this globe were insufficient for us all ; and the courtier, who is always watching the countenance of his prince, in hopes of catching a gracious smile, — can have very little conception. Envious of none, I am determined to be pleased with all. And this, my dear friend, being the order for my march, I will move gently down the stream of life until I sleep with my fathers.” The great problem which now engrossed all minds was the con- solidation of the thirteen States of America in some way which should secure to the States certain reserved rights of local adminis- tration, while a nation should be formed, with a general govern- ment which could exert the energies of centralized power, and thus take its stand, the equal in efficiency, with the renowned kingdoms and empires of earth. The old confederacy, which was merely a conglomeration of independent States, had developed such utter weakness, that all thoughts were turned to the organization of a government upon a different principle. To this subject Washington, who had suffered so intensely from the inefficiency of the Continental Congress, devoted his most anx- ious attention. A convention was called to deliberate upon this momentous question. It assembled at Philadelphia in the year 1787. Washington was sent a delegate from Virginia, and, by unanimous vote, was placed in the preside nt's chair. The result was the present Constitution of the United States f^which, rejecting a mere confed- eracy of independent States, created a nation from the people of all the States, 1 with supreme powers for all the purposes of a general • government, and leaving with the States, as state governments leave with the towns, those minor questions of local law in which the integrity of the nation was not involved. The Constitution of the United States is, in the judgment of the millions of the Ameri- can people, the most sagacious document which has ever emanated from uninspired minds. It has created the strongest government upon this globe. It has made the United States of America what they now are. The world must look at the fruit, and wonder and admire. It is stated in the Madison Papers, that, in the convention which framed our Constitution, it was proposed that the title of the Presi- 52 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. dent of the United States should be His Excellency ; but the Com- mittee of Style and Arrangement negatived this, and reported in favor of the simple title of President of the United States. It has been said that this was done at the instance of Dr. Franklin, who, when the question was under discussion, sarcastically proposed to insert immediately after “ His Excellency” the words, “And the Vice-President shall be styled, His most superfluous Highness .” There were some provisions in the compromises of the Constitu- tion from which the heart and mind of Washington recoiled. He had fought for human liberty, — to give to the masses of the people those rights of which aristocratic usurpation had so long defrauded them. “ All men are born free and equal ” was the motto of the banner under which he had rallied his strength. Equal rights, under the law, for all men, was the corner-stone of that American democ- racy which Washington, Adams, and Jefferson wished to establish ; but there was a spirit of aristocracy, of exclusive rights for peculiar classes and races, which infused its poison into the Constitution, and which subsequently worked out its natural fruit of woe and death. Alluding to the unfortunate compromise which this spirit insisted upon, in reference to slavery and the colored people, Washington wrote, — “ There are some things in this new form, I will readily acknowl- edge, which never did, and I am persuaded never will, obtain my cordial appi’obation. But I did then conceive, and do now most firmly believe, that, in the aggregate, it is the best constitution that can be obtained at the epoch, and that this, or a dissolution, awaits our choice, and is the only alternative.” Upon the adoption of the Constitution all eyes were turned to Washington as chief magistrate. By the unanimous voice of the electors he was chosen the fii'st President of the United States. There was probably scarcely a dissentient voice in the nation. New York was then the seat of government. As Washington left Mount Vernon for the metropolis to assume these new duties of toil and care, we find recorded in his journal, — “About ten o’clock I bade adieu to Mount Vernon, to private life, and to domestic felicity ; and, with a mind oppressed with more anxious and painful sensations than I have woi’ds to express, set out for New York, with the best disposition to render sei’vice to my country in obedience to its call, but with less hopes of answering its expectations.” GEORGE WASHINGTON. 53 Washington was inaugurated President of the United States on the 30th of April, 1789. He remained in the presidential chair two terms of four years each. At the close of his illustrious ad- ministration, in the year 1796, he again retired to the peaceful shades of Mount Vernon, bequeathing to his grateful countrymen the rich legacy of his Farewell Address. The admiration with which these parting counsels were received never will wane. Soon after Washington’s return to his beloved retreat at Mount Vernon he wrote a letter to a friend, in which he described the manner in which he passed his time. He rose with the sun, and first made preparations for the business of the day. “By the time I have accomplished these matters,” he adds, “breakfast is ready. This being over, I mount my horse, and ride round my farms, which employs me until it is time to dress for din- ner, at which I rarely miss to see strange faces, come, as they say, out of respect to me. And how different is this from having a few friends at the social board ! The usual time of sitting at table, a walk, and tea, bring me within the dawn of candle-light ; previous to which, if not prevented by company, I resolve that, as soon as the glimmering taper supplies the place of the great luminary, I will retire to my writing-table, and acknowledge the letters I have received. Having given you this history of a day, it will serve for a year.” The following anecdotes have been related, illustrative of Presi- dent Washington’s habits of punctuality. Whenever he assigned to meet Congress at noon, he seldom failed of passing the door of the hall when the clock struck twelve. His dining-hour was at four o’clock, when he always sat down to his table, whether his guests were assembled or not, merely allowing five minutes for the variation of time-pieces. To those who came late, he remarked, “ Gentlemen, we are punctual here : my cook never asks whether the company has arrived, but whether the hour has.” When visiting Boston, in 1789, he appointed eight o’clock in the morning as the hour when he would set out for Salem ; and, while the Old South clock was striking eight, he was mounting his saddle. The company of cavalry which had volunteered to escort him, not anticipating this punctuality, did not overtake him until he had reached Charles River Bridge. As the troops came hurrying up, the President said to their commander with a good-natured smile, 54 LIVES of the presidents. “ Major, I thought you had been too long in my family not to know when it was eight o’clock.” Captain Pease had purchased a beautiful span of horses, which he wished to sell to the President. The President appointed five o’clock in the morning to examine them at his stable. The captain arrived with his span at quarter past five. He was told by the groom that the President was there at five o’clock, but was then gone to attend to other engagements. The President’s time was wholly preoccupied for several days, so that Captain Pease had to remain a whole week in Philadelphia before he could get another opportunity to exhibit his span. Washington, having inherited a large landed estate in Virginia, was, as a matter of course, a slaveholder. The whole number which he held at the time of his death was one hundred and twenty- four. The system met his strong disapproval. In 1786 he wrote to Robert Morris, saying, “ There is no man living who wishes more sincerely than I do to see a plan adopted for the abolition of slavery.” Lafayette, that true friend of popular rights, was extremely anxious to free our country from the reproach which slavery brought upon it. Washington wrote to him in 1788, “ The scheme, my dear marquis, which you propose as a pi’ecedent to encourage the eman- cipation of the black people of this country from the state of bond- age in which they are held, is a striking evidence of the state of your heart. I shall be happy to join you in so laudable a work.” In his last will and testament, he inscribed these noble words : “ Upon the decease of my wife, it is my will and desire that all the slaves which I hold in my own right shall receive their freedom. To emancipate them during her life would, though earnestly wished by me, be attended with such insuperable difficulties, on account of their mixture by marriage with the dower negroes, as to excite the most painful sensation if not disagreeable consequences, from the latter, while both descriptions are in the occupancy of the same pro- prietor ; it not being in my power, under the tenure by which the dower negroes are held, to manumit them.” Long before this he had recorded his resolve : “ I never mean, unless some particular circumstances should compel me to it, to pos- sess another slave by purchase ; it being among my first wishes to see some plan adopted by which slavery in this country may be abolished by law.” GEORGE WASHINGTON. 55 Mrs. Washington immediately after her husband’s death, learn- ing from his will that the only obstacle to the immediate emancipa- tion of the slaves was her right of dower, immediately relinquished that right, and the slaves were at once emancipated. The 12th of December, 1799, was chill and damp. Washington, however, took his usual round on horseback to his farms, and re- turned late in the afternoon, wet with sleet, and shivering with cold. Though the snow was clinging to his hair behind when he came in, he sat down to dinner without changing his dress. The next day three inches of snow whitened the ground, and the sky was clouded. Washington, feeling that he had taken cold, remained by the fireside during the morning. As it cleared up in the after- noon he went out to superintend some work upon the lawn. He was then hoarse, and the hoarseness increased as night came on. He, however, took no remedy for it, saying, “ I never take any- thing to carry off a cold. Let it go as it came.” He passed the evening as usual, reading the papei’S, answering letters, and conversing with his family. About two o’clock the next morning, Saturday, the 14th, he awoke in an ague-chill, and was seriously unwell. At sunrise his physician, Dr. Craig, who re- sided at Alexandria, was sent for. In the mean time he was bled by one of his overseers, but with no relief, as he rapidly grew worse. Dr. Craig reached Mount Vernon at eleven o’clock, and immedi- ately bled his patient again, but without effect. Two consulting physicians arrived during the day; and, as the difficulty in breath- ing and swallowing rapidly increased, venesection was again at- tempted. It is evident that Washington then considered his case doubtful. He examined his will, and destroyed some papers which he did not wish to have preserved. His sufferings from inflammation of the throat and struggling for breath, as the afternoon wore away, became quite severe. Still he retained his mental faculties unimpaired, and spoke briefly of his approaching death and burial. About four o’clock in the afternoon he said to Dr. Craig, “ I die hard ; but I am not afraid to go. I believed, from my first attack, that I should not survive it: my breath cannot last long.” About six o’clock, his physician asked him if he would sit up in his bed. He held out his hands, and was raised up on his pillow, when he said, “ I feel that I am going. I thank you for your attentions. You had better not take any more trouble about me, but let me go off quietly. I cannot last long.” 56 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. He then sank back upon his pillow, and made several unavailing attempts to speak intelligibly. About ten o’clock he said, “ I am just going. Have me decently buried, and do not let my body be put into the vault until three days after I am dead. Do you under- stand me ? ” To the reply, “ Yes, sir,” he remarked, “ It is well.” These were the last words he uttered. Soon after this he gently expired, in the sixty-eighth year of his age. At the moment of his death Mrs. Washington sat in silent grief at the foot of his bed. “ Is he gone ? ” she asked, in a firm and col- lected voice. The physician, unable to speak, gave a silent signal of assent. “ ’T is well,” she added, in the same untremulous utter- ance. “ All is now over. I shall soon follow him. I have no more trials to pass through.” On the 18th his remains were deposited in the tomb at Mount Vernon, where they now repose, enshrined in a nation’s love : and his fame will forever, as now, fill the world. CHAPTER II. JOHN ADAMS. Ancestry of John Adams. — Anecdote of his Boyhood. — State of the Country. — Marriage. — British Assumptions. — Riot in Boston. — Adams’s Defense of the Soldiers. — Anecdote. — Patriotism of Adams. — The Continental Congress. — His Influence in Congress. — Energy of Mrs. Adams. — The Appointment of Washington. — The Declaration of Independence. — Letter from Mrs. Adams. — Interview with Lord Howe. — Journ ey to Baltimore- — Delegate to France. — The Voyage. — Adams and Franklin. — 'fheYontrast. — Franklin and Voltaire. — Second TnpTfcT Paris. — Successful Mission to Holland. — Conflict with the French Court. — Mission to England. — Presidential Career. — Last Days and Death. J OHN Adams was born in the present town of Quincy, then a portion of Braintree, on the 30th of October, 1735. His father’s elder brother, Joseph, had been educated at Harvard, and was, for upwards of sixty years, minister of a Congregational church at New- ington, N. H. The father of John Adams was a farmer of moderate means, a worthy, industrious man, toiling early and late for the very frugal support which such labor could furnish his family. The fact that he was a deacon of the church attests the esteem in which he was held by the community. Like most Christian fathers, he was anxious to give his son a collegiate education, hoping that he would become a minister of the gospel. But, like most boys, John Adams was not fond of his books. In the bright, sunny morning of his boyhood in Braintree, with the primeval forest waving around, the sunlight sleeping upon the mead- ows, the sparkling brooks alive with trout, and the ocean rolling in its grandeur before him, out-door life seemed far more attractive than the seclusion of the study, and the apparent monotony of life in the midst of books. When he was about fourteen years of age his father said to him, “ My son, it is time for you to decide respect- ing your future occupation in life. What business do you wish to follow?” “ I wish to be a farmer,” the energetic boy replied. “Very well,” said the judicious father ; “it is time now for you to commence your life-work. You must give up play, and enter upon that steady, hard work without which no farmer can get a 58 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. living.” The next morning, at an early hour, John was with his hoe alone in the field. He worked all the morning till noon ; came home to his dinner ; returned to the field ; worked all the afternoon till lfight. As he hoed, he thought. The blue sky was above him ; but there was also a blazing, scorching sun. The forest waved around. He would have enjoyed wandering through it with his gun ; but that was boy’s play which he had given up, not farmer’s work upon which he had entered. Work, work, work, was now to him life’s doom ; and forest, brook, and ocean strangely lost their charms. In the evening he said to his father, with some considerable hesi- tation, “ Father, I have been thinking to-day, and have concluded that I should like to try my books.” His father offered no objec- tions, and was willing to make every effort in his power to indulge his son in his choice, if he were determined to devote all his energies to the acquisition of an education. There was a very good school in the town, and John laid aside his hoe for his grammar. He entered Harvard College at the age of sixteen, and graduated in 1755, highly esteemed for integrity, energy, and ability. He must have struggled with small means ; for his father found it necessary to add to his labors as a farmer the occupation of a shoemaker, to meet the expenses of his household. When John graduated at twenty years of age, he was considered as having received his full share of the small paternal patrimony ; and, with his education as his only capital, he went out to take his place in the conflicts of this stormy world. The first thing the young graduate needed was money. He obtained the situation of instructor in one of the public schools in Worcester. While teaching school he also studied law. All thoughts of the ministerial profession were soon abandoned. This was a period of great political excitement. France and England were then engaged in their great seven years’ struggle for the mastery over this continent. Braddock had just suffered his ignoble defeat. A young Virginian by the name of George Wash- ington, who had saved Braddock’s army, was then beginning to be known. The colonies were in great peril. The question, whether French or English influence was to dominate on this continent, was trembling in the balance. A lai’ge number of the young men of the colonies were called to the camp, and the great theme engrossed every mind. At this time John Adams wrote a very remarkable JOHN ADAMS. 59 letter to a friend, in which, with almost prophetic vision, he de- scribed the future greatness of this country, — a prophecy which time has more than fulfilled. To these engrossing themes young Adams consecrated all the enthusiasm of his nature. He thought, he talked, he wrote. He hesitated whether to give himself to law, to politics, or to the army. Could he have obtained a troop of horse, or a company of foot, he declares that he should infallibly have been a soldier. For two years John Adams remained in Worcester, then a town of but a few hundred inhabitants, teaching a public school and studying law. He was a very earnest student. His journal proves that, inspired by a noble ambition, he consecrated his time, with great moral courage and self-denial, to intellectual culture. Speak- ing of the profligate lives of some of the young men around him, he writes, — “ What pleasure can a young gentleman, who is capable of think- ing, take in playing cards ? It gratifies none of the senses. It can entertain the mind only by hushing its clamors. Cards, back- gammon, etc., are the great antidotes to reflection, to thinking. What learning and sense are we to expect from young gentlemen in whom a fondness for cards, etc., outgrows and chokes the desire of knowledge ? ” When but twenty-two years of age he returned to his native town of Braintree, and, opening a law office, devoted himself to study with renewed vigor. Soon after this his father died ; and he continued to reside with his mother and a brother, who had taken the farm. His native powers of mind and untiring devotion to his profession caused him to rise rapidly in public esteem. In Octo- ber, 1764, he married Miss Abigail Smith, daughter of Rev. Will- iam Smith, pastor of the church in Weymouth. She was a lady of very rare endowments of person and of mind, and, by the force of her character, contributed not a little to her husband's celebrity. The British government was now commencing that career of ag- gressions upon the rights of the colonists which aroused the most determined resistance, and which led to that cruel war which re- sulted in the independence of the colonies. An order was issued by the British crown imposing taxes upon certain goods, and au- thorizing an indiscriminate search to find goods which might have evaded the tax. The legality of the law was contested before the 60 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. Superior Court. James Otis was engaged by the merchants to argue their cause against this encroachment of arbitrary power. With consummate ability he performed his task. John Adams was a delighted listener. “ Otis,” he wrote, “ was a flame of fire. With a promptitude of classical allusion, a depth of research, a rapid summary of historical events and dates, a profusion of legal authorities, and a prophetic glance of his eyes into futurity, he hurried away all before him. American independence was then and there born. Every man of an immensely crowded audience appeared to me to go away, as I did, ready to take up arms.” A literary club was about this time formed of prominent gentle- men of the bar, which met once a week in a small social circle, at each other’s houses, to discuss subjects of popular interest. Mr. Adams read an essay upon the state of affairs, which was published in the journals, republished in England, and which attracted great attention. The friends of the colonists in England pronounced it “ one of the very best productions ever seen from North America.” The memorable Stamp Act was now issued ; and Adams, gather- ing up his strength to resist these encroachments, entered with all the ardor of his soul into political life. He drew up a series of resolutions, remonstrating against the Stamp Act, which were adopted at a public meeting of the citizens at Braintree, and which were subsequently adopted, word for word, by more than forty towns in the State. Popular commotion prevented the landing of the Stamp Act papers. This stopped all legal processes and closed the courts. The town of Boston sent a petition to the governor that the courts might be reopened. Jeremy Gridley, James Otis, and John Adams were chosen to argue the cause of the petitioners before the governor and council. Mr. Gridley urged upon the council the great distress which the closing of the courts was caus- ing. Mr. Otis argued that this distress fully wai'ranted them to open the courts while the question was being referred to the au- thorities beyond the sea ; but John Adams boldly took the ground that the Stamp Act was an assumption of arbitrary power, violat- ing both the English Constitution and the charter of the province. It is said that this was the first direct denial of the unlimited right of Parliament over the colonies. Soon after this the Stamp Act was repealed. Mr. Adams now JOHN ADAMS. 61 entered upon a distinguished political career. A press-gang from a king’s ship in the harbor of Boston seized a young American by the name of Ansell Nickerson. The intrepid sailor thrust a har- poon through the heart of Lieutenant Panton, the leader of the gang. He was tried for murder. John Adams defended him. He argued that the usage of impressment had never extended to the colonies ; that the attempt to impress Nickerson was unlawful ; that his act of killing his assailant was justifiable homicide. The hero was acquitted, and the principle was established, that the in- famous royal prerogative of impressment could have no existence in the code of colonial law. To suppress the spirit of independence, daily becoming more manifest among the people, the British crown sent two regiments of soldier’s to Boston. A more obnoxious menace could not have been devised. The populace insulted the soldiers : the soldiers retaliated with insolence and threats. On the 5th of March, 1770, a small party of soldiers, thus assailed, fired upon the crowd in State Street, Boston, killing and wounding several. Mutual exasperation was now roused almost to frenzy. The captain and six soldiers were arrested and tried for murder. Very nobly, and with moral courage rarely equaled, John Adams and Josiah Quincy undertook the task of their defense. They en- countered unmeasured obloquy. They were stigmatized as deserters from the cause of popular liberty, and the bribed advocates of tyranny. But both of these ardent patriots had witnessed with alarm the rise of mob violence, and they felt deeply that there was no tyranny so dreadful as that of anarchy. Better it was, a thou- sand fold, to be under the domination of the worst of England’s kings than that of a lawless mob. An immense and excited auditory was present at the trial. The first sentence with which John Adams opened his defense produced an electrical effect upon the court and the crowd. It was as fol- lows : — “ May it please your honors, and you, gentlemen of the jury, I am for the prisoners at the bar, and shall apologize for it only in the words of the Marquis Beccaria : ‘ If I can be the instrument of preserving one life, his blessing and tears of transport shall be a sufficient consolation to me for the contempt of all mankind.’ ” Captain Preston and the soldiers were acquitted, excepting two, 62 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. who were found guilty of manslaughter, and received a very slight punishment. Though Boston instituted an annual commemoration of the massacre, Mr. Adams’s popularity suffered so little that he was elected by the citizens of Boston, to which place he had re- moved, as one of their representatives to the colonial Legislature. Governor Hutchinson, though a native of the province, was a man of great energy and of insatiable ambition. Anxious to secure the royal favor, upon which he was dependent for his office, he gave all his influence in favor of the demands of the crown. In all these measures John Adams was recognized as one of his most formid- able antagonists. In 1772 Mr. Adams, finding his health failing from his incessant application to business, returned to his more secluded home at Braintree. The energetic remonstrances of the colonists against taxation without representation, and their determination not to submit to the wrong, had induced the repeal of the tax upon all articles except tea. This led to organizations all over the land to abandon the use of tea. Large shipments were made to Boston. The consignees endeavored to send it back. The crown officers in the custom-house refused a clearance. On the evening of the 15th of December a band of men, disguised as Indians, boarded the vessels, hoisted the chests upon the deck, and emptied their contents into the sea. Under the circumstances this was a deed of sublime daring, being the first open act of rebellion. The crown, exasperated, punished Boston by sending armed ships to close the port. This was a deadly blow to the heroic little town. The other colonies sympathized nobly with Massachusetts. Combinations were formed to refuse all importations from Great Britain. A General Congress was convened in Philadelphia, 1774, to make common cause against the powerful foe. John Adams was one of the five delegates sent from Massachusetts to the Continental Congress. He was entreated by a friend, the king’s attorney-general, not to accept his appoint- ment as a delegate to the Congress. “ Great Britain,” said the at- torney-general, “ has determined on her system. Her power is ir- resistible, and will be destructive to you, and to all those who shall persevere in opposition to her designs.” The heroic reply of John Adams was, “ I know that Great Brit- ain has determined on her system ; and that very determination determines me on mine. You know that I have been constant and JOHN ADAMS. 63 uniform in my opposition to lier measures. The die is now cast. I have passed the Rubicon. Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, with my country, is my fixed, unalterable determination.” Few comprehended more fully than Mr. Adams the sublimity of the crisis which was impending. He wrote at this time in his jour- nal, — “ I wander alone, and ponder ; I muse, I mope, I ruminate ; I am often in reveries and brown studies. The objects before me are too grand and multifarious for my comprehension. We have not men fit for the times. We are deficient in genius, in education, in travel, in fortune, in everything. I feel unutterable anxiety. God grant us wisdom and fortitude ! Should the opposition be suppressed, should this country submit, what infamy and ruin ! God forbid ! Death in any form is less terrible.” He was not blind to the danger of incurring the vengeance of the British government. He wrote to James Warren, “There is one ugly reflection. Brutus and Cassius were conquei’ed and slain. Hampden died in the field ; Sidney, on the scaffold.” Mr. Adams was strongly attached to his friend Mr. Sewall, who remonstrated with him against his patriotic course, and who was disposed to espouse the cause of the king. On bidding him adieu, Mr. Adams said, “ I see we must part ; and with a bleeding heart I say, I fear forever : but you may depend upon it, this adieu is the sharpest thorn upon which I ever set my foot.” The Colonial Congress commenced its session at Philadelphia the 5th of September, 1774, when Mr. Adams took his seat. He was speedily placed on several of the most important committees. The general desire then was merely for a redress of grievances. Very few wished to break away from the British crown. George Wash- ington was one of the Virginia delegation. He doubted whether the British Cabinet, in its arrogance, would relinquish its insane at- tempt to deprive the colonists of their liberties ; but Richard Henry Lee, another of the Virginia delegation, said to Mr. Adams, — “ We shall infallibly carry all our points. You will be completely relieved. All the offensive acts will be repealed. The army and fleet will be recalled, and England will give up her foolish project.” Much, as Mr. Adams might have desired this to be true, his sa- gacity led him to concur in the judgment of George Washington. This Congress, by its ability and heroism, rendered its memory immortal. Lord Chatham said, — 64 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. “ I have studied and admired the free states of antiquity, the master-spirits of the world ; but for solidity of reason, force of sa- gacity, and wisdom of conclusion, no body of men can take the precedence of this Continental Congress.” At this time the idea of independence was extremely unpopular in Pennsylvania and in all the Middle States. Virginia was the most populous State in the Union ; and its representatives, proud of the ancient dominion, not without a show of reason, deemed it their right to take the lead in all important measures. A Virginian was appointed commander-in-chief. A Virginian wrote the Declaration of Independence ; a Virginian moved its adoption by Congress. Mr. Adams says of the Massachusetts delegation, — “ We were all suspected of having independence in view. ‘ Now,’ said they, ‘ you must not utter the word “ independence,” nor give the least hint or insinuation of the idea, either in Congress or in private conversation : if you do, we are undone.’ ” It was soon rumored throughout Philadelphia that John Adams was for independence. The Quakers and the gentlemen of property took the alarm. Adams “ was sent to Coventry,” and was avoided like a leper. With a saddened yet imperial spirit, borne down, yet not crushed, by the weight of his anxieties and unpopularity, almost in solitude, for a time he walked the streets of Philadelphia. It would have been well for him could he have blended a little more of the suaviter in modo with th efortiter in re. The British crown, with utter infatuation, pursued its reckless course. In April, 1775, the war of the Revolution was opened, as brave men were shot down by English soldiery upon the green at Lexington. Boston was placed under martial law. All its citizens were imprisoned within the lines of the British fleet and army which encompassed the city. The inhabitants were plunged into the deep- est distress. On the 10th day of May the Congress again assembled in Philadelphia. Mrs. Adams kept her husband minutely informed of all the events occurring in Boston and its vicinity. About the middle of May, one Sabbath morning, Mrs. Adams was roused from sleep by the ringing of alarm-bells, the firing of cannon, and the beating of drums. She immediately sent a courier to Boston, and found everything in great confusion. Three vessels of war had left the harbor, manifestly on some hostile mission, and were sailing along the shores of Massachusetts Bay, approaching Braintree or JOHN ADAMS. 65 Weymouth. Men, women, and children were flying in all direc- tions. The sick were placed in beds on carts, and hurried to a place of safety. The report was that three hundred soldiers had landed, and were marching up into the town of Braintree. Men seized their guns, and came flocking from their farms, until two thousand were collected. It soon turned out that the hostile expedition had landed on Grape Island to seize a large quantity of hay which was stored there. The RESIDENCE OF JOHN ADAMS. impetuous colonists soon mustered two vessels, jumped on board, and put off for the island. The British, seeing them coining, de- camped. Our men landed, and set fire to the hay, about eighty tons. Mrs. Adams, in giving an account of this, writes, — Our house has been, upon this alarm, in the same scene of confu- sion that it was upon the former ; soldiers coming in for lodging, for I breakfast, for supper, for drink. Sometimes refugees from Boston, tired and fatigued, seek an asylum for a day, a night, a week. You can hardly imagine how we live. 5 66 LIVES OF TEE PRESIDENTS. The battle of Bunker’s Hill was fought on the 17th of June, 1775. The next afternoon, which was Sunday, Mrs. Adams wrote to her husband, — “ The day, perhaps the decisive day, is come, on which the fate of America depends. My bursting heart must find vent at my pen. I have just heard that our dear friend Dr. Warren is no more, but fell gloriously fighting for his country ; saying, ‘ Better to die hon- orably in the field than ignominiously hang upon the gallows.’ “ Charlestown is laid in ashes. The battle began upon our in- trenchments upon Bunker’s Hill, Saturday morning, about three o’clock, and has not ceased yet ; and it is now three o’clock, Sabbath afternoon. The constant roar of the cannon is so distressing, that we cannot either eat, drink, or sleep.” These scenes had aroused the country around Boston to the very highest pitch of excitement. The farmers had come rushing in from all the adjoining towns with rifles, shot-guns, pitch-forks, and any other weapons of offense or defense which they could grasp. Thus a motley mass of heroic men, without efficient arms, supplies, pow- der, or discipline, amounting to some fourteen thousand, were sur- rounding Boston, which was held by about eight thousand British regulars, supported by a powerful fleet. The first thing now to be done by Congress was to choose a com- mander-in-chief for this army. The New England delegation were almost unanimous in favor of General Ward, then at the head of the army in Massachusetts. Mr. Adams alone dissented, and urged the appointment of George Washington, a delegate from Virginia, but little known out of his own State. Through the powerful in- fluence of John Adams, Washington was nominated and elected. He was chosen without an opposing voice. A powerful fleet, said to contain twenty-eight thousand seamen and fifty-five thousand land troops, was now crossing the ocean for our enslavement. It would seem impossible, to human vision, that such a force could then be resisted. Our destruction seemed sure. Goliah was striding down upon David, and all onlookers expected to see the stripling tossed upon the giant’s spear high into the air. Washington hastened to Massachusetts to take command of the army. Five days after his appointment Thomas Jefferson made his appearance upon the floor of Congress. A strong friendship imme- diately sprang up between Adams and Jefferson, which, with a short JOHN ADAMS. 67 interruption, continued for the remainder of their lives. After a brief adjournment, Congress met again in September. The battle was still raging about Boston ; and the British, with free ingress and egress by their fleet, were plundering and burning, and commit- ting every kind of atrocity in all directions. John Adams presented and carried the decisive resolution, that, in view of the aggressions and demands of England, “ it is necessary that the exercise of every kind of authority under said crown should be totally suppressed.” Having thus prepared the way, a few weeks after, on the 7th of June, 1776, Richard Henry Lee of Virginia offered the memorable resolution, which J ohn Adams seconded, — “ That these United States are, and of right ought to be, free and independent.” A committee was then appointed to draught a Declaration of Independence. It consisted of Jefferson, Adams, Franklin, Sher- man, and Livingston. Jefferson and Adams were appointed, by the rest, a sub-committee to draw np the Declaration. At Mr. Adams’s earnest request Mr. Jefferson prepared that, immortal document, which embodies the fundamental principles of all human rights. At this time Mr. Adams wrote to a friend, — “ I am engaged in constant business, — from seven to ten in the morning in committee, from ten to five in Congress, and from six to ten again in committee. Our assembly is scai’cely numerous enough for the business. Everybody is engaged all day in Con- gress, and all the morning and evening in committees.” Jefferson wrote of his illustrious colleague, “ The great pillar of support to the Declaration of Independence, and its ablest advocate and champion on the floor of the house, was John Adams. He was our Colossus. Not graceful, not always fluent, he yet came out with a power, both of thought and expression, which moved us from our seats.” Mr. Jefferson, though so able with his pen, had little skill in debate, and was no public speaker. That which he wrote in the silence of his closet, John Adams defended in the stormy hall of Congress. When Adams and Jefferson met to draw up the Decla- ration of Independence, each urged the other to make the draft. Mr. Adams closed the friendly contention by saying, — “ I will not do it : you must. There are three good reasons why you should. First, you are a Virginian ; and Virginia should take 68 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. the lead in this business. Second, I am obnoxious, suspected, un- popular : you are the reverse. Third, you can write ten times bet- ter than I can.” “ Well,” Jefferson replied, “ if you insist upon it, I will do as well as I can.” On the 4th of July, 1776, the Declaration of Independence was adopted by Congress, and signed by each of its members. This was one of the boldest acts in the records of time. Every man who affixed his signature to that paper thus cast the glove of mortal de- fiance at the foot of the most majestic power on this globe. The scene was one upon which the genius of both pen and pencil has been lavished. In its grandeur it stands forth as one of the most sublime of earthly acts. Of the fifty-five who signed that declara- tion, there was not probably one who would deny that its most earnest advocate, and its most eloquent defender, was John Adams. The day after the achievement of this momentous event, Mr. Adams wrote to his wife as follows : — “ Yesterday the greatest question was decided that was ever debated in America ; and greater, perhaps, never was or will be decided among men. A resolution was passed, without one dis- senting colony, ‘ That these United States are, and of right ought to be, free and independent States.’ The day is passed. The 4th of July, 1776, will be a memorable epoch in the history of America. I am apt to believe it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival. It ought to be commemorated, as the day of deliverance, by solemn acts of devotion to Almighty God. It ought to be solemnized with pomps, shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations, from one end of the conti- nent to the other, from this time forward forever. You will think me transported with enthusiasm ; but I am not. I am well aware of the toil and blood and treasure* that it will cost to maintain this Declaration, and support and defend these States ; yet, through all the gloom, I can see that the end is worth more than all the means, and that posterity will triumph, though you and I may rue, which I hope we shall not.” A few weeks before this, early in March, Washington had taken possession of Dorchester Heights, and had driven the British out of Boston. Mrs. Adams, in a letter to her husband, under date of March 4, writes, — “ I have just returned from Penn’s Hill, where I have been sit- JOHN ADAMS. 69 ting to hear the amazing roar of cannon, and from whence I could see every shell that was thrown. The sound, I think, is one of the grandest in nature, and is of the true species of the sublime.” The next morning, she adds to her letter, “ I went to bed about twelve, and rose again a little after one. I could no more sleep than if I had been in the engagement: the rattling of the windows, the jar of the house, the continual roar of twenty-four pounders, and the bursting of shells, give us such ideas, and realize a scene to us of which we could form scarcely any conception. I hear we got pos- session of Dorchester Hill last night ; four thousand men upon it to-day : lost but one man. The ships are all drawn l’ound the town. To-night we shall realize a more terrible scene still. I sometimes think I cannot stand it. I wish myself with you out of hearing, as I cannot assist them.” In August a British army, landing from their fleet, under Lord Howe, overran Long Island, defeating the American army, which only escaped destruction by retreating in a dark and foggy night to the main-land. Howe imagined that the discouragement of this defeat would induce the Americans to listen to terms of submission. He therefore requested an interview with some of the leading mem- bers of Congress. John Adams was not in favor of the conference. He was well assured that England would present no terms to which America could accede. A committee, however, was appointed to treat with the British general, consisting of Adams, Franklin, and Rutledge. On Monday, September 9, 1776, the delegates set out to meet General Howe on Staten Island. Franklin and Rutledge took chairs, — a vehicle for but one person. Mr. Adams rode on horseback. The first night they lodged at an inn in New Brunswick, which was so crowded that Franklin and Adams had to take one bed in a cham- ber but little larger than the bed, with no chimney, and but one window. The window was open ; and Mr. Adams, who was quite an invalid, wished to shut it. “Oh! ” said Franklin, “don’t shut the window : we shall be suffocated.” Mr. Adams replied, that he was afraid of the evening air. Dr. Franklin answered, “The air within this chamber will soon be, and indeed is now, worse than that without doors. Come, open the window, and come to bed, and I will convince you.” Mr. Adams opened the window, and leaped into bed. He writes, — 70 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. “ The doctor then began an harangue upon air and cold, and res- piration and perspiration, with which I was so much amused that I soon feel asleep, and left him and his philosophy together : but I believe that they were equally sound and insensible within a few minutes after me ; for the last words I heard were pronounced as if he were more than half asleep. I remember little of the lecture, except that the human body, by respiration and perspiration, de- stroys a gallon of air in a minute, that two such persons as were now in that chamber would consume all the air in it in an hour or two ; that, in breathing over and over again the matter thrown off by the lungs and the skin, we should imbibe the real cause of colds, not from abroad, but from within.” The next morning they proceeded on their journey. When they came to the water’s edge, they met an officer whom General Howe had sent as a hostage for their safe return. Mr. Adams said to Dr. Franklin, “ that it would be childish to depend on such a pledge, and that he preferred to trust entirely to the honor of General Howe. They therefore took the officer back to Staten Island with them in his lordship’s barge. As they approached the shore, Lord Howe came down upon the beach to meet them. Seeing the officer in their company, he said, — “ Gentlemen, you pay me a high compliment, and you may de- pend upon it that I will consider it the most sacred of things.” They walked up to the house between a line of guards, who ma- noeuvred and handled their muskets in the most approved style of military etiquette. The house, which was “ dirty as a stable,” was carpeted with a sprinkling of moss and green sprigs, so that it looked picturesquely beautiful. After a slight, cold repast, they entered upon business. Lord Howe remarked that his powers enabled him to confer with any private gentlemen of influence in the colonies, and that he could only confer with them in that character. John Adams, with his characteristic straightforward bluntness, replied, — “We came, sir, but to listen to your propositions. You may view us in any light you please, except that of British subjects. We shall consider ourselves in no other character than that in which we were placed by order of Congress.” His lordship, who had only permission to offer pardon to the leaders of the Revolution, with a few exceptions, if the States would return to their allegiance to the king, anxious to conciliate the dele- JOHN ADAMS. 71 gation, was profuse in expressions of gratitude to the State of Mas- sachusetts for erecting in Westminster Abbey a monument to his brother, Lord Howe, who was killed in the French war. He said that his affection for America was, on that account, so strong, that he felt for America as for a brother; and that, if America should fall, he should lament it like the loss of a brother. Dr. Franklin, with an easy air, bowed and smiled, and replied, with all that grace and suavity which marked him as one of the most accomplished of diplomatists, — “ My lord, we will do our utmost endeavors to save your lordship that mortification.” Mr. Adams, in his account of the interview, remarks that his lord- ship appeared to feel this with much sensibility. But with Mr. Adams’s remark, to which we have referred, he was evidently not a little nettled ; for, turning to Dr. Franklin and Mr. Rutledge, he said, with much gravity and solemnity, “ Mr. Adams is a decided character.” This was the darkest period of the conflict. Our affairs looked so gloomy that even the most sanguine were disheartened. Many were exceedingly dissatisfied with that prudence of General Wash- ington which alone saved us from destruction. Many were anxious to displace him. It has been said that Mr. Adams was one of this number. He denies it peremptorily. The advance of the enemy towards Philadelphia had rendered it necessary for Congress to adjourn to Baltimore. It was in those days a long and tedious journey from Boston to that “ far-away country,” as Mrs. Adams called it. Mr. Adams, in his journal, gives an account of a horseback ride which he took in January, 1777, from Boston, to attend a session of Congress in that distant city. He rode across the State of Connecticut to Fishkill on the Hud- son, and ascended the banks of the river to Poughkeepsie, where he was able to cross upon the ice. Pie then rode down the western banks to New Windsor, five miles below Newburg. Then he struck across the country to Easton in Pennsylvania. He passed through Sussex Comity in New Jersey, the stronghold of the Tories, but en- countered no insult, as the firm attitude of the patriots overawed them. It took him three weeks of excessive fatigue to accomplish this journey. One can now go to California in one third that time, 72 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. and with far less discomfort. Alluding to the weary ride, he writes, “ The weather has been sometimes bitterly cold, sometimes warm, sometimes rainy, and sometimes snowy, and the roads abominably hard and rough ; so that this journey has been the most tedious I ever attempted.” The number of members assembled in Congress had become quite small, often falling as low as twenty-three. The labors of these men have never been properly appreciated. Their peril w 7 as about as great as that of those who met the foe in the field, and their toils scarcely less severe. The imperfections of the old confederation were very palpable to the sagacious mind of John Adams. Mr. Marchant, one of the delegates, relates the following characteristic anecdote : — “ The articles of confederation being completed, the members, by rotation, were called upon to place their signatures to them. This being concluded, a pause and perfect calm succeeded. Mr. Adams sat and appeared full of thought. He rose : ‘ Mr. President.’ His cane slipped through his thumb and forefinger, with a quick tap upon the floor ; his eyes rolled upwards ; his brows were raised to their full arch. ‘ This business, sir, that has taken up so much of our time, seems to be finished ; but, sir, I now, upon this floor, ven- ture to predict, that before ten years the confederation, like a rope of sand, will be found inadequate to the purpose, and its dissolution will take place. Heaven grant that wisdom and experience may avert what we then have most to fear ! ’ ” The confederacy proved, as Mr. Adams predicted, a failure. It wa£ a mere league of States, each reserving all effective powers to itself, and conferring upon Congress but the shadow of a sov- ereignty. Dr. Gordon gives the following testimony to Mr. Adams’s influ- ence : “ I never can think we shall finally fail of success while Heaven continues to the Congress the life and abilities of Mr. John Adams. He is equal to the controversy in all its stages. He stood upon the shoulders of the whole Congress when reconciliation was the wish of all America. He was equally conspicuous in cutting the knot which tied us to Great Britain. In a word, I deliver to you the opinion of every man in the house when I add, that he pos- sesses the clearest head and firmest heart of any man in Congi'ess.” The energy with which he was inspired and the confidence re- JOHN ADAMS. 73 posed in him may be inferred from the fact that he was a member of ninety committees and chairman of twenty-five. Until Novem- ber, 1777, Mr. Adams was assiduous in his attendance upon Con- gress, devoting himself with tireless diligence to his public duties. In November, 1777, Mr. Adams was appointed a delegate to France, to take the place of Silas Deane, who had been recalled, and to cooperate with Benjamin Franklin and Arthur Lee, who were then in Paris, in the endeavor to obtain assistance in arms and money from the French government. This was a severe trial to his patriotism, as it separated him from his home, compelled him to cross the ocean in winter, and exposed him to imminent peril of cap- ture by the British cruisers. Anxiously he pondered the question. He was a man of ardent affections ; and it was hard to be separated from his family, consisting of a wife and four children. The news of his appointment was known by the British, and they had a large fleet in Newpoi’t, R. I., which would undoubtedly be employed to intercept him. Capture would lodge him in Newgate. He would be tried in England for treason, and Mr. Adams had no doubt that they would proceed to execute him. But, on the other hand, our country was in extremest peril. It was clear that, without the aid of some friendly European power, our feeble armies must be crushed. France was the only nation from which there was the slightest hope that aid could be obtained. Mr. Adams had done, perhaps, more than any other man to induce the colonies to declare their independ- ence. As was to be expected of the man, he adopted the heroic resolve to run all the risks. “ My wife,” he writes, “ who had always encouraged and animated me in all the antecedent dangers and perplexities, did not fail me on this occasion. After much agitation of mind, and a thousand reverses unnecessary to be detailed, I resolved to devote my family and my life to the cause, accepted the appointment, and made prep- aration for the voyage.” It was several months before a frigate could be got ready. On a cold day in February, 1778, a wintry wind roughening Massachu- setts Bay, Mr. Adams took a sad leave of his wife and three chil- dren, and accompanied by his son, John Quincy, then a lad of but ten years of age, was rowed out to the frigate Boston, riding at anchor at some distance from the shore. The voyage was stormy, uncomfortable, and eventful. When five days out, on the 15th of 74 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. February, three large English frigates were seen, probably cruising for the Boston. They gave chase. Two of them were soon run out of sight. The third, a better sailer, continued the pursuit. Arrangements were made for a desperate fight. Mr. Adams urged them to contend to the last extremity. “ My motives,” he writes, “ were more urgent than theirs ; for it will be easily believed that it would have been more eligible for me to be killed on board the Boston, or sunk to the bottom in her, than to be taken prisoner.” Mr. Adams sat at the cabin-windows, watching the frowning enemy gaining very rapidly upon them, when suddenly the black clouds of a rising tempest gathered in the skies. The wind rose to a gale. The clouds hastened the approach of the darkness of the night, in which the ships lost sight of each other; and when the morning dawned the British frigate was nowhere to be seen, while the ocean was tossed by a hurricane. On the 14th of March another sail hove in sight. Trusting that it might prove a prize which they would be able to take, they gave chase, and it was soon overtaken and captured. Mr. Sprague, in his Eulogy of Adams and Jefferson, relates the following anecdote of this engagement. Captain Tucker begged Mr. Adams to retire to a place of safety below. Soon after, as the balls of the hostile ship were flying over their heads, Captain Tucker saw Mr. Adams on deck with a musket in his hand, fighting as a common marine. In the excitement of the moment he rushed up to his illustrious passenger, exclaiming, “ Why are you here, sir ? I am commanded to carry you safely to Europe, and I will do it ; ” and, seizing him in his arms, he forcibly carried him from the scene of danger. They took the prize, and a prize indeed it was. It proved to be a letter of marque, the Martha, Captain McIntosh, of fourteen guns, with a cargo insured in London for seventy-two thousand pounds. The captured vessel was sent to Boston. Captain McIn- tosh, who was kept on board the Boston, was a very intelligent, gentlemanly man, and held much friendly conversation with Mr. Adams. On the evening of the 15th of March, as they were ap- proaching the French coast, Mr. Adams was sitting in the cabin, when Captain McIntosh came down, and, addressing him with great solemnity, said, — “ Mr. Adams, this ship will be captured by my countrymen in JOHN ADAMS. 75 less than half an hour. Two large British men-of-war are bearing directly down upon us, and are just by. You will hear from them, I warrant you, in six minutes. Let me take the liberty to say to you, that I feel for you more than for any one else. I have always liked you since I came on board, and have always ascribed to you the good treatment which I have received. You may depend upon it, all the good service I can render you with my countrymen shall be done with pleasure.” This was indeed startling intelligence. Mr. Adams, who had heard an uncommon trampling upon deck, only responded with a silent bow, and, taking his hat, ascended the cabin-stairs. It was a bright moonlight evening, and there were the two ships already within musket-shot. They could see everything, — even the men on board. All expected every moment to be hailed, or perhaps to be saluted with a broadside. But the two ships passed without speaking a word. “ I stood' upon deck,” writes Mr. Adams, “ till they had got so far off as to remove all apprehension of danger from them. Whether they were two American frigates, which had been about that time in France, we never knew. We had no inclination to inquire about their business or destination, and were very happy that they discovered so little curiosity about ours.” On the morning of March 30th they made Bordeaux Lighthouse, and ran safely into the river. Mr. Adams was charmed with the appearance of La Belle France. The sight of land, cattle, villages, farm-houses, women and children, after so long and dreary a voy- age, gave indescribable pleasure. There was a French ship in the stream ; and Mr. Adams and his son were invited to a very elegant entertainment, served up in style to which they had been quite unaccustomed in their frugal provincial home. They there learned that Dr. Franklin, who had been received by Louis XVI. with great pomp, and who, from his courtesy of manners, affability, and apt- ness in paying compliments, was admirably adapted to impress the French mind, had already succeeded in concluding a treaty with France. Indeed, it is probably fortunate that Mr. Adams did not arrive any sooner. He was not at all at home in French diplomacy. While Franklin was greatly admired and caressed, Mr. Adams was decidedly unpopular in the Parisian court. His virtues and his defects were those of a blunt, straightforward, unpolished English- 76 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. man. In Paris he met with David Hartley, a member of the British House of Commons. They came together like two icebergs. Mr. Hartley, on his return to London, said to Sir John Temple and others, “ Your Mr. Adams, that you represent as a man of such good sense, — he may have that ; but he is the most ungracious man I ever saw.” Mr. Adams’s first interview with the President of the Parlia- ment of Bordeaux was alike characteristic of the affable French- man and the bluff Yankee. The premier received him not only respectfully and politely, but with affection which was even tender. “ I am charmed,” said he, “ to see you. I have long felt for you a brother’s love. I have trembled for you in the great perils through which you have passed. You have encountered many dangers and sufferings in the cause of liberty ; and I have sympa- thized with you in them all, for I have suffered in that cause myself.” All this was in accordance with national courtesy, and was as sincere as are the usual salutations of social life. It was by no means hypocrisy : it was only politeness. Dr. Franklin would have responded in a similar strain, and the two friends would have sep- arated, charmed with each other. We learn how Mr. Adams re- ceived these cordial advances by the following ungracious entry in his journal : — “Mr. Bondfield had to interpret all this effusion of compliments. I thought it never would come to an end ; but it did : and I con- cluded, upon the whole, there was a form of sincerity in it, deco- rated, and almost suffocated, with French compliments.” Mr. Adams and his little son, John Quincy, reached Paris on the 8th of April, after land-travel of five hundred miles. As the am- bassador of the infant colonies struggling for independence, Mr. Adams was received by both court and people with the utmost kindness. In his journal he records, “ The attention to me which has been shown, from my first landing in France, by the people in authority of all ranks, and by the principal merchants, and, since my arrival in Paris, by the ministers of state and others of the first consideration, has been very remarkable.” Mr. Adams could not speak French, which was almost a fatal obstacle to his success as a courtier. He says that Dr. Franklin could not speak it grammatically ; but, at all events, Dr. Franklin JOHN ADAMS. 77 succeeded in speaking it so well as to charm all with whom he con- versed, and his polite auditors averred that his pronunciation was truly Parisian. He was an exceedingly gallant old gentleman of seventy, possessed of extraordinary tact in paying compliments. In a sketch of his colleagues, Mr. Adams writes of Dr. Frank- lin, — “ That he was a great genius, a great wit, a great humorist, a great satirist, a great politician, is certain. That he was a great philosopher, a great moralist, a great statesman, is more questiona- ble.” On the other hand, Dr. Franklin writes of his colleague, “ Mr. Adams is always an honest man, often a wise one ; but he is sometimes completely out of his senses.” Mr. Adams was an earnest, methodical business man. He was disgusted at the loose way in which he found business conducted by his colleagues. There was not a minute-book, letter-book, or account-book to be produced. He undertook a vigorous reform, bought some blank books, declined invitations to dine, and bowed down to the hard work of acquiring the French language. He be- came unduly suspicious of the designs of France. One day he was crossing the court of the palace of Versailles with his colleague, Mr. Lee, and the Count de Vergennes. They passed and exchanged bows with the distinguished general, Marshal Maillebois. “ That is a great general,” said Mr. Lee. “ I wish,” responded the count, “ that he had the command with you.” This was a very natural remark, when we had then no generals of distinction in our coun- try, and when even many of our own most devoted patriots were dis- trusting Washington. Mr. Adams thus comments on these words: “ This escape was, in my mind, a confirmation strong of the de- sign at court of getting the whole command of America into their own hands. My feelings on this occasion were kept to myself ; but my reflection was, “ I will be buucd in the ocean, or in any other manner sacrificed, before I will voluntarily put on the chains of France, when I am struggling to throw off those of Great Britain.” Mr. Adams’s earnest patriotism induced him to practice the most rigid economy while abroad, that Congress might be put to as little expense as possible. The treaty of alliance with France was already formed before his arrival ; and, soon finding that there was but little for him to do in Paris, he resolved that he had rather run the gaunt- let through all the British men-of-war, and all the storms of the ocean on a return, than remain where he was. 78 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. His journal shows that he was entirely devoted to the business of his mission, — an unwearied, self-sacrificing patriot. It also shows that he was deficient in certain qualities essential to success in the court of Versailles, and that he was daily becoming more alienated from his colleagues, and especially from Dr. Franklin, the suprem- acy of whose influence could not be concealed. Under these circum- stances, and in consequence of representations from both Franklin and Adams, Congress decided to make Dr. Franklin sole minister at the court of France. Mr. Lee was dispatched to Madrid ; but for Mr. Adams no provision was made. This oversight was simply owing to the harassed and distracted condition of Congress at that time. Thus doomed to idleness, and uncertain respecting duty, his situation was exceedingly painful. “ I cannot,” he wrote, “ eat pen- sions and sinecures : they would stick in my throat.” On the 17th of June, 1779, he embarked on board the French frigate Sensible, and arrived safely in Boston with his son on the 2d of August, after an absence of seventeen months. For such a man as Mr. Adams, in such stirring times, there was no such thing as r-est. Immediately upon his arrival at Braintree he was chosen to represent the town in the state convention then held at Cambridge. At the same time he prepared an elaborate review of the state of the different nations in Europe, so far as it might have a bearing on the interests of the United States. The controversies between the individual members of the foreign delega- tion had agitated Congress and the country. There were many who were in favor of recalling Dr. Franklin ; but his popularity with the French court, and especially with the minister, Count de Ver- gennes, defeated this measure. There was a long and bitter conflict in Congress respecting the appointment of commissioners to the for- eign courts. In September, 1779, Mr. Adams was chosen again to go to Paris, there to hold himself in readiness to negotiate a treaty of peace and of commerce with Great Britain so soon as the British Cabinet might be found willing to listen to such proposals. The Chevalier de la Luzerne, the French minister, who had accompanied Mr. Adams to America, wrote him a very polite note, congratulating him upon his appointment, and offering him a passage in the return French frig- ate. M. Marbois had been so much impressed with the distin- guished talents of Mr. Adams’s son, John Quincy, that he sent his JOHN ADAMS. 79 father a special injunction to carry him back, that he might profit by the advantages of a European education. On the 13th of November, 1779, Mr. Adams was again on board the Sensible, outward bound. The voyage was dismal ; and the ship having sprung a leak, and being in danger of foundering, they were compelled to make the first European port, which was that of Ferrol, in Spain. In midwinter Mr. Adams crossed the Pyre- nees, and reached Paris on the 5th of February, 1780. He was to remain in the French capital until an opportunity should present itself to open negotiations with Great Britain. The Count de Vergennes assumed, and very properly, that France, our powerful ally, should be specially consulted upon any terms which were to be presented to the British Cabinet ; and that it would be mani- festly unjust, under the circumstances, for the United States to negotiate a separate peace with Great Britain without the ap- proval of the French nation. On the other hand, Mr. Adams very properly assumed that the United States had not placed their des- tinies in the hands of France, so as to lose all their independent power, and to be bound, like a slave, to obey the behests of a master. Here came the split, distrust, alienation, mutual repug- nance. There were two motives which influenced France to enter into the American alliance. One was a strong popular sympathy in our cause, as patriots struggling for liberty : the other was a national dislike to England, and a desire to humble that uncompromising power, and so to secure the friendship of America as to obtain a favorable commercial treaty. Mr. Adams acted upon the principle that sympathy with Americans, as victims of oppression, had no influence whatever with France ; that the French government, in its alliance, was influenced by pure and undiluted selfishness. Dr. Franklin did not sympathize in these views, and did not give Mr. Adams his moral support. Much annoyed, Mr. Adams at length decided to go to Holland. In taking his departure, he wrote a letter to the Count de Vergennes, which did but increase the alien- ation. The count was so indignant that he sent to the Congress at Philadelphia, soliciting the recall of the commissions which had been intrusted to Mr. Adams. In Holland he was eminently useful, negotiating important loans and forming important commercial treaties. In his bold measures 80 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. here he assumed much responsibility, for which he was commended by Congress. In this brief sketch it is impossible to do full justice to these complicated negotiations. The Count de Yergennes ap- prehended Mr. Adams might propose terms to Great Britain un- favorable to the interests of France. Mr. Adams apprehended that the count would insist upon terms of peace so favorable to French commerce as to cripple the commercial intercourse of the United States with England and the other nations of Europe. Both had reason for their fears. Mr. Adams ever regarded, and justly, his mission to Holland as the greatest success of his life. Through his very great efforts, sagaciously conducted, he was at length received as the accredited minister of the United States, and recognized as a member of the corps diplomatique at the Hague. On the very day that he was thus received by the States-General, he proposed a treaty of amity and commerce ; and on the 7th of October, 1782, had the pleasure of announcing the second alliance entered into by the United States as a sovereign power. The glory of this great event belongs un- deniably to John Adams. It was deemed so important that two medals were engraved in Holland in its commemoration. “Mon- sieur,” said a French gentleman to Mr. Adams on his return to Paris, “you are the Washington of negotiation.” Mr. Adams was highly gratified by the compliments which were lavished upon him ; but he intimates that Dr. Franklin would die of jealousy should he hear them. The alliance with Holland was a great victory, — no less impor- tant in its bearing upon the war than the surrender of Cornwallis, which occurred about the same time. The conflict in the Cabinet was as arduous as that in the field. The British ministry now began to manifest some disposition to negotiate. In October, 1782, Mr. Adams returned to Paris. Private emissaries had been sent to the continent from London to ascertain who the Americans were who were authorized to treat, and what was the extent of their powers. In anticipation of this event, Congress had appointed a commission, consisting of Adams, Franklin, H. Laurens, Jay, and Jefferson, with full authority to negotiate a treaty of peace. The alienation between Mr. Adams and the French court was well known ; and an agent was sent by Lord North to sound him upon the possibility of a separate truce, abandoning France. A JOHN ADAMS. 81 meaner act we could not have been guilty of than to have acceded to this proposal. England, exasperated against the nation which had rescued us from her grasp, was anxious, by detaching us from the conflict, to wreak her whole vengeance upon our generous ally. This was just what Count de Vergennes had apprehended. Mr. Adams consented to meet this emissary at Amsterdam on the 20th of March ; though he wisely attached the condition, that a witness should be present at the interview, and that he should be permitted to communicate all that should pass to both Dr. Franklin and the Count de Vergennes, who were in cordial sympathy with each other. These conditions so embarrassed Digges, the British envoy, that his mission was an entire failure. France, Spain, and Hol- land were now all, with more or less of zeal, combined with the United States against England. The British Cabinet made a covert effort for a separate pacification with France, which was also un- successful. After a vast amount of diplomatic manoeuvring, a definite treaty of peace with England was signed at Paris on the 21st of January, 1783. The reaction from the excitement, toil, and anxiety through which Mr. Adams had passed, threw him into a fever. He occupied the Hcitel du Roi, in the Place du Carrousel. It was a thorough- fare over whose pavements a constant stream of carriages was roll- ing, with a noise like thunder, incessantly for twenty-one hours out of the twenty-four. Burning with fever, he found sleep impossible. His friends despaired of his recovery. The sufferings of Mrs. Adams, in this long separation from her husband, were very severe. A nobler woman never breathed. She deserves from a nation’s gratitude a monument equally high and massive with that of her illustrious companion. When asked, after Mr. Adams had been absent three years, “ Had you known that Mr. Adams would have remained so long abroad, would you have consented that he should have gone ? ” she replied, after a moment’s hesitation, — “ If I had known that Mr. Adams could have effected what he has done, I would not only have submitted to the absence I have endured, painful as it has been, but I would not have opposed it, even though three years more should be added to the number. I feel a pleasure in being able to sacrifice my selfish passions to the general good, and in imitating the example which has taught me 6 82 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. sity of his repairing immediately to Amsterdam to negotiate another loan. “ It was winter,” writes Mr. Adams. “ My health was very deli- cate. A journey to Holland, at that season, would very probably put an end to my labors. I scarcely saw a possibility of surviving it. Nevertheless, no man knows what he can bear till he tries. A few moments’ reflection determined me.” Mr. Adams and his son repaired to the coast ; spent three days to consider myself and family but as the small dust of the balance when compared with the great community.” As soon as Mr. Adams could be removed he was taken to Auteuil, where he enjoyed the pure air and silence of the country. But re- covery was very slow. Feeble, emaciated, languid, his friends ad- vised him to go to Englaird to drink the waters of Bath. On Mon- day, the 20th of October, he set out, with his son and one servant, for London. While Mr. Adams was in England, still drooping and desponding, he received dispatches urging the indispensable neces- JOHN ADAMS THE AMBASSADOR. JOHN AH AMS. 83 in a miserable inn, waiting for a wind ; were tossed upon sickening billows three days, beating against a wintry gale ; were driven to the Island of Goeree, and landed on a desolate shore ; walked five miles over ice and snow to a wretched town ; hired a farmer’s cart, the only vehicle which could be obtained, without cushions or springs ; rattled over the deep ruts of the frozen ground twelve miles, till they reached a ferry to cross over to the main-land ; found all the boats on the other side ; waited at the ferry several days ; hired, at a great price, an ice-boat to take them over ; were rowed in the water till they came to the ice ; then the sailors, eight in number, dragged the boat upon the ice, and pushed it along while the passengers walked. When they came to a spot where the ice was thin, and the boat broke through, they all jumped in again. Were all day, and until late at night, making the passage, em- barking and disembarking many times. Wet, chilled, exhausted, reached the shore ; could find no carriage ; hired a peasant’s wagon to take them to Brielle, and there obtained conveyance through in- tense cold to the Hague, where Mr. Adams succeeded in raising another loan, and saved the credit of his country. There is other heroism besides that which is exhibited on the bloody field, and there are other battles besides those which are fought with powder and bullets. Mr. Adams writes in his journal, “ I had ridden on horseback often to Congress, over roads and across ferries, of which the pres- ent generation have no idea ; and once, in 1777, in the dead of winter, from Braintree to Baltimore, five hundred miles, on a trot- ting horse. I had been three days in the Gulf Stream, in 1778, in a furious hurricane, and a storm of thunder and lightning, which struck down our men upon deck and cracked our mainmast ; when the oldest officers and stoutest seamen stood aghast, at their last prayers, dreading every moment that a butt would start, and all perish. I had crossed the Atlantic, in 1779, in a leaky ship, with perhaps four hundred men on board, who were scarcely able, with two large pumps going all the twenty-four hours, to keep water from filling the hold ; in hourly danger, for twenty days together, of foundering at sea. I had passed the mountains in Spain, in the winter, among ice and snow, partly on mule-back and partly on foot. Yet I never suffered so much in any of these situations as in that jaunt from Bath to Amsterdam, in January, 1784. Nor did 84 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. any of these adventures ever do such lasting injury to my health. I never got over it till my return home in 1788.” While in England Mr. Adams had enjoyed the intense gratifica- tion of hearing George III., from his throne, announce to Parlia- ment that he had concluded a treaty of peace, in which he recog- nized the independence of the United States. While in Holland Frederick II. of Prussia made overtures to Mr. Adams for a treaty of commerce. At the same time Mr. Adams received a new com- mission, authorizing him to act with Franklin and Jefferson to negotiate treaties of commerce with any of the foreign powers. As it was evident that his residence abroad was to be extended, he wrote to Mrs. Adams to join him with the residue of their family. The happy reunion took place in the summer of 1784; and they selected for their residence a quiet retreat at Auteuil, near Paris. And now came probably the happiest period of Mr. Adams’s life. His wife, his eldest son, John Quincy, then rising into a youth of great promise, and his daughter, whose beauty and accomplishments made her justly the pride of both father and mother, were with him. Mrs. Adams, in her letters, gives a very graphic account of her life at Auteuil. The village was four miles from Paris. The house was very large, and coldly elegant, with mirrors and waxed floors, but destitute of comfort. It was situated near the celebrated park called the Woods of Boulogne, where Mr. Adams, whose health required that he should take much exercise, walked several hours every day. The walls were lined with magnificent mirrors ; but there was not a carpet in the house, nor a table better than an oak board. A servant polished the floors each morning with a brush buckled to one of his feet. The expenses of housekeeping were found to be enormous. A heavy tax was imposed upon everything. All articles of domestic use were about thirty per cent higher than in Boston. It was absolutely necessary to keep a coach ; and the coachman and horses cost fifteen guineas a month. The social cus- toms of the country rendered it indispensable that they should keep seven servants. Their expenses were so heavy that it required all Mrs. Adams’s remarkable financial skill to save them from pecuni- ary ruin. The humble style in which they were compelled to live, compared with the splendor in which all the other foreign ministers indulged, must have been no small trial. Mr. Jay was compelled to resign his office, as he found that he could not support himself upon his salary. JOHN ADAMS. 85 On the 24th of February, 1785, peace with England having been proclaimed, Congress appointed Mr. Adams envoy to the court of St. James. He crossed the Channel to assume these new arduous and delicate responsibilities. He was now to meet, face to face, the King of England, who had so long regarded him as a traitor, and against whose despotic power he had assisted the nation so success- fully to contend. Mr. Adams, in his dispatch to Mr. Jay, then secretary of foreign affairs, has left an interesting account of his first public reception. He rode to court, by invitation of Lord Carmarthen, in his coach. In the ante-chamber he found the room full of ministers of state, generals, bishops, and all sorts of courtiers, each waiting his turn for an audience. He was soon conducted into the king’s closet, where he was left alone with the king and his secretary of state. Mr. Adams, according to the court etiquette upon which he had carefully informed himself, made three low bows, — one at the door, another when he made a couple of steps, and the third when he stood before the king. He then, in a voice tremulous with the emo- tion which the scene was calculated to inspire, addressed his majesty in the following words : — “ Sire, the United States of America have appointed me their minister plenipotentiary to your majesty, and have directed me to deliver to your majesty this letter, which contains the evidence of it. It is in obedience to their express commands that I have the honor to assure your majesty of their unanimous disposition and desire to cultivate the most friendly and liberal intercourse between your majesty’s subjects and their citizens, and of their best wishes for your majesty’s health and for that of the royal family. “The appointment of a minister from the United States to your majesty’s court will form an epoch in the history of England and America. I think myself more fortunate than all my fellow-citizens in having the distinguished honor to be the first to stand in your majesty’s royal presence in a diplomatic character ; and I shall es- teem myself the happiest of men if I can be instrumental in recom- mending my country more and more to your majesty’s royal benev- olence, and of restoring the entire esteem, confidence, and affection, or, in better words, the old good-nature and the old harmony between people, who, though separated by an ocean and under different governments, have the same language, a similar religion, 86 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. and kindred blood. I beg your majesty’s permission to add, that although I have sometimes before been intrusted by my country, it was never, in my whole life, in a manner so agreeable to myself.” The king listened to this address in evident emotion. He seemed not a little agitated ; for to his proud spirit it was an hour of deep humiliation. With a voice even more tremulous than that with which Mr. Adams had spoken, he replied: — “ Sir, the circumstances of this audience are so extraordinary, the language you have now held is so extremely proper, and the feelings you have discovered so justly adapted to the occasion, that I must say that I not only receive with pleasure the assurance of the friendly disposition of the people of the United States, but that I am very glad that the choice has fallen upon you as their minister. But I wish you, sir, to believe, and that it may be understood in America, that I have done nothing in the late contest, but what I thought myself indispensably bound to do by the duty which I owed to my people. I will be frank with you. I was the last to conform to the separation ; but the separation having been made, and having become inevitable, I have always said, as I say now, that I would be the first to meet the friendship of the United States as an independent power. The moment I see such sentiments and language as yours prevail, and a disposition to give this country the preference, that moment I shall say, Let the circumstances of lan- guage, religion, and blood have their full effect.” This formality being over, the king asked Mr. Adams if he came last from France. Upon receiving an affirmative reply, he smiled, and, assuming an air of familiarity, said, “ There is an opinion among some people that you are not the most attached, of all your countrymen, to the manners of France.” This perhaps explains the reason why the king had said, “ I am glad that the choice has fallen upon you,” and throws light upon the suggestion he had ventured to throw out, that we should manifest “ a disposition to give this country the preference.” But for the aid of our ally we should inevitably have been crushed by the British armies. Yet Mr. Adams, regarding those efforts as purely selfish, was not dis- posed to manifest the slightest gratitude. He was, however, a little embarrassed by the king’s allusion to his want of attachment to France, and replied, “That opinion, sir, is not mistaken. I must avow to your majesty, I have no attachment but to my own coun- JOHN ADAMS. 87 try.” The king instantly responded, “An honest man will never have any other.” Mr. Adams's situation in London was more painful even than in Paris. He was met there only with haughtiness and ill-will. Every- where he encountered cold civility, supercilious indifference. His literary labors in London were of much service to his country, as he published “ A Defense of the American Constitution,” in three vol- umes, which displayed much ability, and exerted a powerful influ- ence. As Great Britain did not condescend to appoint a minister to the United States, and as Mr. Adams felt that he was accom- plishing but little, he solicited permission to return to his own country, and reached his rural home in Braintree, from which he had so long been absent, in June of 1788. When some persons accused Mr. Adams of being covertly in favor of monarchical institutions, Mr. Jefferson replied, “ Gentlemen, you do not know that man. There is not upon this earth a more per- fectly honest man than John Adams. It is not in his nature to meditate anything which he would not publish to the world. I know him well ; and I repeat, that a more honest man never issued from the hands of his Creator.” Five years after the accomplishment of our independence, it was found, to the very bitter disappointment of many, that there was not so much prosperity, neither was order so well established, as in col- onial days, while matters were manifestly growing worse. There was no common principle harmonizing the action of the different States. We were not a nation. We had no national sense of honor. It was necessary to organize the federal government anew. The success of the Revolution had afforded the United States, as Wash- ington said, “the opportunity of becoming a respectable nation.” Fifty-five delegates were appointed by the various States of the confederacy to frame a Constitution for the United States of Amer- ica. They met in Independence Hall, in Philadelphia, where the Declaration of Independence had been signed. The Constitution which they drew up was accepted by the States, and we became a nation. George Washington was unanimously chosen President for four years ; and John Adams, rendered illustrious by his signal serv- ices at home and abroad, was chosen Vice-President. The first Congress under the Constitution met in New York on the 4th of March, 1789. The City Hall, which stood at the corner 88 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. of Wall and Nassau streets, where the Custom House now stands, liad been remodeled for their accommodation, and had received the name of Federal Hall. The first business, after the organization of the two houses, was to count the votes for President and Vice-Presi- dent. Mr. Adams was the first to receive the official information of his election. At ten o’clock on the morning of the 12th of April, he left his residence in Braintree, and was escorted by a troop of horse to Boston. He was received with the ringing of bells, the firing of cannon, and the shouts of an immense concourse of people. His journey to New York was a continued ovation. At Hartford the manufacturers presented him with a piece of broadcloth for a suit of clothes, and the corporation of New Haven presented him with the freedom of the city. The West-Chester Light Horse escorted him from the Connecticut line to King’s Bridge, where he was met by a cavalcade of the heads of departments, a large number of members of Congress, military officers and private citizens, in carriages and on horseback, who conducted him through the swarming streets to the house of John Jay, in the lower part of the city. The Presi- dent’s mansion was the house since known as Bunker’s Hotel, near the Bowling Green. Mr. Adams occupied a very beautiful residence at Richmond Hill. The question at this time was very warmly agitated in Congress and throughout the country respecting the permanent location of the seat of government. In 1783 the old Continental Congress adjourned from Philadelphia to Princeton, where it occupied for a time the halls of the college. Thence it adjourned to New York, where it assembled in the spring of 1785. The question of the seat of government was brought before the convention for forming the Constitution, which was assembled in Philadelphia. The east- ern States wei’e in favor of New York. Pennsylvania pleaded for the banks of the Delaware. The more southern States advocated the banks of the Potomac. It was urged in favor of New York, that “ honesty was in fashion ” there, and that there was no city in the world so celebrated “ for the orderly and decent behavior of its inhabitants.” On the other hand, Dr. Rush wrote, “ I rejoice in the prospect of Congress leaving New York. It is a sink of political vice. Do as you please, but tear Congress away from New York in any way.” The South Carolinians objected to Philadelphia on account of the Quakers, who, JOHN ADAMS. 89 they said, “ were eternally dogging Southern members about with their schemes of emancipation.” This question, which was connected with another respecting the assumption of state debts, threatened to “ dissolve the Union.” One morning Jefferson met Hamilton on Broadway ; and for an hour they walked up and down the crowded pavement, discussing the agitating theme. In conclusion, Jefferson proposed that Hamilton should dine with him the next evening, promising to invite a few other influential friends to talk the matter over. “ It is impossible,” said Jefferson, “ that reason- able men, consulting together coolly, can fail, by some mutual sacrifices of opinion, to form a compromise which is to save the Union.” By uniting the two questions of the location of the Capitol and the assumption of the state debts, a compromise was effected. It was agreed that the government should be permanently established on the Potomac, at a place called Conogocheague, now the District of Columbia ; that ten years should be allowed for the erection of the necessary buildings for the accommodation of the government ; and that, in the mean time, Philadelphia should be the metropoli- tan city. The people of New York were greatly vexed. Robert Morris, senator from Pennsylvania, was quite influential in accom- plishing this result. He concluded that if the public offices were once opened in Philadelphia they would continue there, and that Conogocheague would be forgotten. But for the influence of Wash- ington it is not improbable that this might have been the case. The irritation of New York received graphic expression in a cari- cature which was posted throughout the city. It represented Rob- ert Morris marching off with Federal Hall upon his shoulders. Its windows were crowded with members of both houses eagerly look- ing out, some encouraging, others anathematizing, the stout Penn- sylvania senator as he bore away the prize. The devil stood grin- ning upon the roof of Paulus Hook Ferry House, beckoning in a patronizing way to Mr. Morris, and saying, “ This way, Bobby ; this way.” Mrs. Adams superintended the removal of their effects to Phila- delphia. She thus describes her new residence at Bush Hill : “ Though there remains neither bush nor shrub upon it, and very few trees except the pine grove behind it, yet Bush Hill is a very beautiful place ; but the grand and the sublime I left at Richmond Hill.” 90 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. For a long time Congress was not at all pleased with the change, a id bitter were the complaints which were unceasingly uttered. But at length the murmurs subsided, and were lost in the excite- ment of politics and the gayeties of the republican court. The winter presented a continual succession of balls, dinner-parties, and similar festivities. “I should spend a very dissipated winter,” Mrs. Adams writes, “ if I were to accept one half the invitations I receive, particularly to the routs, or tea and cards.” In the midst of this external gayety, Congress was tossed by angry passions and stormy debates. Both Washington and Adams were assailed with intensest bitterness. Both were accused of monarchical tendencies, and of fondness for the pomp and pageantry of royalty. The Democratic party was now rapidly rising into controlling power. Still both Washington and Adams were reelected, and again on the 4th of March, 1793, took the oaths of office. There was certainly then a degree of ceremony observed, reflect- ing somewhat the pageantry of European courts, which has not since been continued. President Washington every fine day walked out. Two aids always accompanied him, who were kept at a respect- ful distance, never engaging in conversation. He had three very splendid carriages. He drove to church with two horses, into the the country with four, and six magnificent cream-colored chargers drew him to the Senate. His servants wore a livery of white trimmed with scarlet or orange. Both Washington and Adams were “ gentlemen of the old school,” reserved and somewhat stately in courtesy. An eye-witness describes the scene presented as Wash- ington opened a session of Congress. An immense crowd filled the street through which he was to pass. As he left his carriage, he ascended the steps of the edifice, and paused upon the upper plat- form. “ There he stood for a moment, distinctly seen by every- body. He stood in all his civic dignity and moral grandeur, erect, serene, majestic. His costume was a full suit of black velvet ; his hair, in itself blanched by time, powdered to snowy whiteness, a dress sword at his side, and his hat held in his hand. Thus he stood in silence ; and what moments those were ! Throughout the dense crowd profound stillness reigned. Not a word was heard, not a breath. Palpitations took the place of sounds. It was a feeling infinitely beyond that which vents itself in shouts. Every heart was full. In vain would any tongue have spoken. All were gazing JOHN ADAMS. 91 in mute, unutterable admiration. Every eye was riveted on that form, — the greatest, purest, most exalted of mortals.” Just about this time that moral earthquake, the French Revolu- tion, shook the continent of Europe. Mr. Adams felt no sympathy with the French people in this struggle ; for he had no confidence t in their power of self-government, and utterly abhorred the athe- istic character of those philosophers, who, in his judgment, inaugu- rated the movement. He wrote to Dr. Price, — “ I know that encyclopedists and economists, Didei’ot and D’Alem- bert, Voltaire and Rousseau, have contributed to this event more than Sidney, Locke, or Hoadly, — perhaps more than the American Revolution ; and I own to you, I know not what to make of a republic of thirty million atheists.” On the other hand, Jefferson’s sympathies were strongly enlisted in behalf of the French people, struggling to throw off the yoke of intolerable despotism. Hence originated the alienation between these two distinguished men. Washington at first hailed the French Revolution with hope ; but as its disorders became more developed he leaned more strongly to the views of Mr. Adams. Two very powerful parties were thus soon organized. Adams was at the head of the one whose sympathies were with England. Jef- ferson led the other in sympathy with France. England proclaimed war against the French republicans; played the tyrant over weaker nations upon the ocean ; and, despising our feeble navy, insulted and harassed our commerce. This conduct swept increasingly the current of popular feeling towards Mr. Jef- ferson and his party. Upon the retirement of Washington, at the close of his second presidential term, there was a very hotly con- tested election ; and Mr. Adams, by a slender majority, was chosen President; and Thomas Jefferson, Vice-President. Weary of the cares of state, and longing to return to his loved home at Mount Vernon, Washington gladly transferred the sceptre to the hands of his successor. Henry VII. said of his son s who was eager for the crown, “ Alas ! he little knows what a heap of cares and sorrows he snatcheth at.” John Adams found indeed, as even Washington had found before him, the crown of empire to be a crown of thorns. On the 4th of March, 1797, at Philadelphia, John Adams was inaugurated President of the United States. At an early hour in the morning, Chestnut Street, in the vicinity of 92 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. Congress Hall, was densely crowded. The hall itself was thronged, many of the members surrendering' their seats to the ladies. Mr. Jefferson first took the oath as Vice-President. At twelve o’clock Washington entered the hall, followed in a few moments by Mr. Adams. They were both received with enthusiasm. As soon as the oath had been administered, Mr. Adams pronounced his inau- gural. At the close of the ceremony Washington retired, followed by a tumultuous throng, eager to catch a last look of the object of their veneration. Mr. Adams had but just reached his residence when President Washington called upon him, and cordially con- gratulated him with wishes for his happy, successful, and honorable administration. These were stormy days, and it required great wisdom safely to navigate the ship of state. That Mr. Adams’s administration was conscientious, patriotic, and able, will now be universally conceded. In the then divided state of the public mind, an archangel could not have conciliated the hostile parties. The excitement which the French Revolution created in this country, as the community ranged themselves on the side of England or of France, was intense. For four years Mr. Adams struggled through almost a constant tempest of assaults. He was never truly a popular man. The party ar- rayed against him, with the Vice-President at its head, was pow- erful in numbers, and still more powerful in ability. He was not a man of conciliatory manners or of winning speech. After four years of harassment, which must have been the four least happy years of his life, he was mortified by losing a reelection. Jefferson was chosen President ; Aaron Burr, Vice-President ; and John Adams was left to return to his farm at Quincy. His chagrin was great, so great as to lead him to the lamentable mistake of refusing to remain in Philadelphia to witness the inauguration of his suc- cessful rival. There had ensued a breach in the friendship of these illustrious men which was not closed for thirteen years. But it is the duty of the historian to record that there was never a more pure and conscientious administration in this country than that of John Adams. Posterity has given its verdict in approval of nearly all his measures. In almost every conflict, it is now admitted that he was in the right, and his opponents in the wrong. Though the •treatment he had received wounded him deeply, and he keenly JOHN ADAMS. 93 felt the failure of his reelection, it was not without some emotions of gladness that he laid aside the cares of state to seek refuge in the quiet retreat of his home at Braintree. It was on the 4th of March, 1801, that Mr. Adams retired to private life, after uninterrupted devotion to the public service for twenty-sis years, — service as arduous, as self-sacrificing, as devoted, as ever fell to the lot of any man. During these long years of anx- iety and toil, in which he was laying, broad and deep, the founda- tions of an empire destined to be the greatest upon which the sun has ever shone, he had received from his impoverished country but a meagre support. The only privilege he carried with him into his retirement was that of franking his letters, and receiving them free from postage, for the remainder of his life. He had barely sufficient property to give him needful comforts during his declining years. Party spirit then ran so high that obloquy pursued him even into his retreat. Many hours were im- bittered by the attacks which were made upon him. Clouds of social grief, which at times darken over every family, threw their shades upon the homestead at Quincy. About the time of Mr. Adams’s retirement, his eldest son, who was married and settled in New York, suddenly died, leaving as a legacy to his father’s care a wife and two infant children. He then spoke of this event as the deepest affliction of his life. Almost for- gotten in his secluded retreat, he found the transition painful from his life of excitement, agitation, and the most intense intellectual activity, to one of repose, amounting almost to stagnation. He was then sixty-six years of age. A quarter of a century still re- mained to him before he died. He generally avoided all public gath- erings, and took but little part in political questions, devoting his time mainly to the cultivation of his farm. When England, looking contemptuously upon our feeble navy, persisted in perpetrating the outrage of searching American ships wherever they might be found, and dragging from them any sailors who might be designated by any pert lieutenant as British subjects, both John Adams and his son, John Quincy, nobly supported the policy of Mr. Jefferson in re- senting these outrages. It now seems strange that a single man could be found in all America willing to submit to such insolence. But Mr. Adams was for this bitterly accused of being recreant to his life-long principles, and of joining the party who were charged with 94 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. seeking an excuse for dragging our country into a war against Eng- land, that we might thus aid France. On this occasion John Adams, for the first time since his retire- ment, broke silence, and drew up a very able paper, exposing the atrocity of the British pretensions. It was one of the shrewd ob- servations of Napoleon, that it is not safe to judge of what a nation will do from what it is for the interest of that nation to do, as peo- ples are governed far more by their passions than by their supposed interests. England, actuated by haughty and imbittered feelings, plunged into her second war with America. Mr. Adams had been associated with a party hostile to France, and in favor of submission to the British pretensions. In advocating resistance, he was re- garded as abandoning his old friends, and with bitter animosity was he assailed. 1 Years rolled on. The treaty of Ghent brought peace with Eng- land. Jefferson’s two terms of service expired. Madison and Mon- roe came and went ; and still the sage of Quincy remained, approach- ing his ninetieth year. In 1813 their only daughter, who was not very happily married, died, after a long and painful sickness. In 1818, when Mr. Adams was eiglity-two years of age, his noble wife, who had shared with him the joys and griefs of more than half a century, died at the age of seventy-four. The event threw over him a shade of sadness which never disappeared. A gentleman who visited Quincy a year or two before her death gave a description of the interview. Mr. Adams was, in bodily strength, very infirm, tottering and shaking with age ; but his mind seemed as vigorous, and his heart as young, as ever. There was a boy’s joyousness and elasticity in his hearty laugh. He joked, was full of fun, and talked about everybody and everything with the utmost freedom and aban- don. His knowledge seemed to his visitor boundless ; for he was equally at home upon whatever subject might be introduced. Noth- ing could be more entertaining than his conversation, it was so re- plete with anecdote and lively sallies of wit. While thus conversing, Mrs. Adams came in, — a tall and stately lady of rather formal address. “ A cap of exquisite lace surrounded features still exhibiting intellect and energy. Her dress was snowy white, and there was that immaculate neatness in her appearance 1 It b not impossible that some of these statements may be disputed ; but incontrover- tible evidence will be found to sustain them in the Life and Times of John Adams. JOHN ADAMS. 95 which gives to age almost the sweetness of youth. With less warmth of manner and sociableness than Mr. Adams, she was sufficiently gracious, and her occasional remarks betrayed intellectual vigor and strong sense. The guest went away, feeling that he should never again behold such living specimens of the ‘great old.’ ” While his drooping frame and feeble step and dimmed eye showed the ravages of years, his mind retained its wonted vigor. He read until his vision failed, and was then read to, many hours every day. He loved, in conversation with his friends, to recall the scenes of his younger years, and to fight his battles over again. His son, John Quincy, rose to distinction, and occupied high posts of honor at home and abroad. In 1825 his parental pride was gratified, and his pa- rental heart gladdened, in the elevation of his son to the chair which the father had honored as President of the United States. When John Quincy Adams received a note from Rufus King, informing him of his election, he inclosed it to his father, with the following lines from his own pen, under date of February 9, 1825 : — My dear and honored Father, — The inclosed note from Mr. King will inform you of the event of this day ; upon which I can only offer you my congratulations, and ask your blessing and prayers. Your affectionate and dutiful son, John Quincy Adams. John Adams was now ninety years of age. His enfeebled powers indicated that his end was drawing nigh. The 4th of July, 1826, came. The nation had made arrangements for a more than usually brilliant celebration of that anniversary. Adams and Jefferson still lived. It was hoped that they might be brought together, at some favored spot, as the nation’s guests. It would indeed have been a touching spectacle to have seen these venerable men, after a separa- tion of twenty -five years, again clasp each other’s hands, and ex- change congratulations in view of the prosperity and power of the nation which they had done so much to form. But, as the time drew near, it was evident that neither of them could bear a journey. On Friday morning, the 30th of June, a gentleman called upon Mr. Adams to obtain a toast to be presented on the 4th of July at the celebration in Quincy. “I give you,” said he, “ Independence foreverl 96 LIVES OF TEE PRESIDENTS. He was now rapidly declining. On the morning of the 4th his physician judged that he would scarcely survive the day. There was the ringing of bells, the exultant music of martial bands, the thunders of artillery from ships and forts, from hills and valleys, echoing all over our land, as rejoicing millions welcomed the natal day of the nation. Mr. Adams, upon his dying couch, listened to these sounds of joy with silent emotion. “ Do you know what day it is ? ” some one inquired. “ Oh, yes ! ” he replied : “ it is the glorious 4th of July. God bless it ! God bless you all ! It is a great and glorious day.” “ Thomas Jefferson,” he murmured at a later hour to himself, “ still survives.” These were his last words. But he was mistaken. An hour or two before the spirit of Jeffer- son had taken its flight. *The sands of his own long and memorable life were now run out, and gently he passed away into that sleep from which there is no earthly waking. Mr. Adams was a man of rather cold courtesy of manners, of pow- erful intellect, of incorruptible integrity. It was one defect in his character, that he was deficient in those genial, sympathetic, brotherly graces which bind heart to heart. Wherever he appeared, he com- manded respect : seldom did he win love. His neighbors called him the “ Duke of Braintree.” But, through all time, he must occupy a conspicuous position in the history of this country. It is not easy to find any other name to which America is more indebted for those institutions which constitute its power and its glory than that of John Adams. CHAPTER III, THOMAS JEFFERSON. Birth and Childhood. — College Life. — A Law Student. — Earnest Scholarship. — Marriage. — Estate at Mouticello. — Interest in Public Affairs. — Action in the Continental Congress. — Governor of Virginia. — Death of his Wife. — His Grief. — Letters to his Children. — Min- ister to France. — His Popularity. — Political Views. — Scientific Accuracy. — Interest in the French Revolution. — Returns to America. — The Two Parties, Federal and Democratic. — Secretary of State. — Monarchical Sentiments. — Letters. — Correspondence with John Adams. — Alexander Hamilton. — Weary of Office. — Vice-President. — President. — In- augural. — Stormy Administration. — Life in Retirement. — Scenes at Monticello. — Death. The ancestors of Thomas Jefferson are said to have been of Welsh origin, emigrating from the vicinity of Mount Snowdon. MONTICELLO, — RESIDENCE OF THOMAS JEFFERSON. But little is known of them. Peter Jefferson, the father of Thomas, was a man of handsome property and of considerable culture. He 98 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. married Jane Randolph, a young lady of nineteen, of opulent parent- age, born in London, and accustomed to the refinements of life. Mr. Peter Jefferson, from his worth of character and mental attain- ments, acquired considerable local distinction, and was at one time professor of mathematics in William and Mary College. Peter, with his young bride, took an estate of fourteen hundred acres upon the slopes of the Blue Ridge, in what is now called Albemarle County, and in the vicinity of the present town of Char- lottesville. The plantation was called Shadwell, from the name of the parish in London where his wife was born. His home was lit- erally hewn out of the wilderness. There were but few white settlers within many miles of the mansion, which consisted of a spa- cious story and a half cottage-house. A wide hall and four large rooms occupied the lower floor. Above these there were good chambers and a spacious garret. Two huge outside chimneys con- tributed to the picturesque aspect of the mansion. It was delight- fully situated upon a gentle swell of land upon the slopes of the Blue Ridge, and commanded a sublime prospect of far-reaching mountains and forests. Here Thomas was born, the oldest child of his parents, on the 2d of April, 1743. When he was fourteen years of age his father died, leaving a widow and eight children. We know but very little about these parents. Mr. Jefferson seldom alluded to them. His most distinguished biographer says, “ He was singularly shy in speaking or writing of matters of family history.’’ It is only known of his mother, that she was a beautiful and accomplished lady, an admirable housekeeper, a good letter-writer, with a great fund of humor. Mr. Jefferson used to mention as his earliest recollection that of being carried by a slave on a pillow on horseback, when he was but two years of age, in one of the journeys of the family. His father and mother belonged to the Church of England. Thomas was naturally of a serious, pensive, reflective turn of mind. From the time he was five years of age he was kept diligently at school under the best teachers. He was a general favorite with both teachers and scholars ; his singular amiability winning the love of the one, and his close application to study and remarkable proficiency securing the affection and esteem of the other. It is not usual for a young man to be fond both of mathematics and classics ; but young Jefferson was alike devoted to each of these branches of THOMAS JEFFERSON. 99 learning. He has often been heard to say, that if he were left to decide between the pleasure derived from the classical education which his father had given him and the large estate which he in- herited, he should have decided in favor of the former. In the year 1760 he entered William and Mary College. He was then seventeen years of age, and entered an advanced class. Williamsburg was then the seat of the Colonial Court, and it was the abode of fashion and splendor. Young Jefferson lived in col- lege somewhat expensively, keeping fine horses, and much caressed by gay society. Still he was earnestly devoted to his studies, and irreproachable in his morals. It is strange that he was not ruined. In the second year of his college course, moved by some unexplained inward impulse, he dis- carded his horses, society, and even his favorite violin, to which he had previously given much time. He often devoted fifteen hours a day to hard study ; allowing himself for exercise only a run in the evening twilight of a mile out of the city, and back again. He thus attained very high intellectual culture, alike excelling in phi- losophy and the languages. The most difficult Latin and Greek authors he read with facilit} 7 . A more finished scholar has seldom gone forth from collegiate halls; and there was not to be found, perhaps, in all Virginia, a more pure-minded, upright, gentlemanly young man. Immediately upon leaving college he entered the law office of Mr. Wythe, one of the most distinguished lawyers of the State. Mr. Jefferson was then not twenty-one years of age. But there was something in his culture, his commanding character, and his dignified yet courteous deportment, which gave him position with men far his seniors in age and his superiors in rank. The English governor of the colony, Francis Fauquier, was a man of great ele- gance of manners, whose mansion was the home of a very generous hospitality. He had three especial friends who often met, forming a select circle at his table. These were the eminent counselor, George Wythe ; Dr. Small, a Scotch clergyman, one of the most distinguished professors in the college ; and Thomas Jefferson. It is said that that polish of manners which distinguished Mr. Jeffer- son through life was acquired in this society. In the law office he continued his habits of intense application to study. In the winter he rose punctually at five o’clock. In 100 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. the summer, as soon as, in the first gray of the morning, he could discern the hands of the clock in his room, he sprang from his bed. At nine o’clock in summer he retired ; at ten o’clock in winter. His vacations at Shadwell consisted only of a change of place : there was no abatement of study. His politeness to all shielded him from incivility, and he never became engaged in any personal rencounter. Gambling he so thoroughly detested that he never learned to distinguish one card from another. Ardent spirits he never drank, tobacco in any form he never used, and he was never heard to utter an oath. He was fond of music, and had studied it both practically and as a science. Architecture, painting, and sculpture had attracted so much of his attention that he was esteemed one of the best of critics in the fine arts. The accurate knowledge he had acquired of French was of immense use to him in his subsequent diplomatic labors. He read Spanish, and could both write and speak the Italian. The Anglo-Saxon he studied as the root of the English, regarding it as an important element in legal philology. Thus furnished, he went forth to act his part in life’s great conflict. While a student at law he heard Patrick Henry, who had sud- denly burst forth as Virginia’s most eloquent orator, make one of his spirit-moving speeches against the Stamp Act. It produced an impression upon Jefferson’s mind which was never effaced. In 1767 he entered upon the practice of the law. His thoroughly dis- ciplined mind, ample stores of knowledge, and polished address, were rapidly raising him to distinction, when the outbreak of the Revolution caused the general abandonment of the courts of jus- tice, and introduced him to loftier spheres of responsibility, and to action in an arena upon which the eyes of the civilized world were concentrated. Jefferson, though so able with his pen, was not distinguished as a public speaker. He seldom ventured to take any part in debate. Still, wherever he appeared, he produced a profound impression as a deep thinker, an accurate reasoner, and a man of enlarged and statesman-like views. He had been but a short time admitted to the bar ere he was chosen by his fellow-citizens to a seat in the Legislature of Vir- ginia. This was in 1769. Jefferson was then the largest slave- holder in the house. It is a remarkable evidence of his foresight, THOMAS JEFFERSON. 101 his moral courage, and the love of liberty which then inspired him, that he introduced a bill empowering slaveholders to manumit their slaves if they wished to do so. Slavery caught the alarm. The proposition was rejected by an overwhelming vote. In 1770 Mr. Jefferson’s house at Shadwell was burned to the ground; and his valuable library, consisting of two thousand vol- umes, disappeared in the flames. He was absent from home at the time. A slave came to him with the appalling news. “ But were none of my books saved ? ” exclaimed Mr. Jefferson. “None,” was the reply ; and then the face of the music-loving negro grew radiant as he added, “ But, massa, we saved the fiddle.” In after years, when the grief of the irreparable loss was somewhat assuaged, Mr. Jefferson was in the habit of relating this anecdote with much glee. He had inherited an estate of nearly two thousand acres of land, which he soon increased to five thousand acres. His income from this land, tilled by about fifty slaves, and from his practice at the bar, amounted to five thousand dollars .a year, — a large sum in those times. In 1772 he married Mrs. Martha Skelton, a very beautiful, wealthy, and highly accomplished young widow. She brought to him, as her munificent dowry, forty thousand acres of land, and one hundred and thirty-five slaves. He thus became one of the largest slaveholders in Virginia : and yet he labored with all his energies for the abolition of slavery ; declaring the institution to be a curse to the master, a curse to the slave, and an offense in the sight of God. Upon Mr. Jefferson’s large estate at Shadwell there was a ma- jestic swell of land called Monticello, which commanded a prospect of wonderful extent and beauty. This spot Mr. Jefferson selected for his new home ; and here he reared a mansion of modest yet elegant architecture, which, next to Mount Vernon, became the most distinguished resort in our land. His wedding, which took place at the house of John Wayles, the father of the bride, who resided at a seat called “ The Forest,” in Charles City County, was celebrated with much splendor. It was a long ride in their carriage, along the valley of the James, to their secluded home among the mountains of Albemarle County. It was the month of January. As they drew near the hills, the ground was whitened with snow, which in- creased in depth as they advanced, until, when in the evening they 102 LIVES OF TEE PRESIDENTS were entering the mountains, they found the road so obstructed that they were compelled to leave their carriage at a dilapidated house and mount their horses. It was a cold winter’s night. The snow was two feet deep along the mountain track which they were now threading. Late at night, shivering and weary, they reached the summit of the hill, nearly six hundred feet above the level of the stream at its base. Here a gloomy reception awaited them. There were no lights in the house : all the fires were out. The slaves were soundly asleep in their cabins. But youth and prosperity and love could convert this “ horrible dreariness ” into an occasion of mirth and fun and laughter. With his large estates, and his retinue of servants, Mr. Jefferson could afford to indulge in the luxury of magnificent horses. He usually kept half a dozen high-blooded brood-mares. He was very particular about his saddle-horse. It is said that, when quite a young man, if there was a spot on the horse, when led out, which would soil a linen handkerchief, the groom was sure of a severe reprimand. There was, about this time, a British vessel, the Gaspee, sta- tioned in Narragansett Bay to enforce the revenue laws. The in- solence of its officers had led, in June, 1772, to its being decoyed aground, and burned. The British government retaliated by pass- ing a law that the willful destruction of the least thing belonging to the navy should be punishable with death. At the same time a court of inquiry was sent over to try those implicated in the Gas- pee affair, or to send them to England for trial should they choose to do so. Some very spirited resolutions were immediately drawn up by Thomas Jefferson, appointing a standing committee to obtain the earliest intelligence of all proceedings in England with regard to the colonies, and by communicating this knowledge, in correspond- ence with the sister colonies, to prepare for united action in op- posing any infringement of colonial rights. This was the intent of the resolutions. They were so skillfully worded that even the moderate party could not refuse to vote for them. But the then governor, the Earl of Dunmore, manifested his displeasure by im- mediately dissolving the house. The committee, however, met the next day, sent a copy of the resolutions to the other colonies, and THOMAS JEFFERSON. 103 requested them to appoint a committee to correspond with the Vir- ginia committee. Though Massachusetts had two years before made a similar movement, for some unexplained reason the measure did not go into action; and Jefferson is justly entitled to the honor of having put into operation the “ Committees of Correspondence,” which afterwards became so potent in resisting the encroachments of the British crown. When the British Cabinet, in 1774, enacted the Boston Port Bill, shutting up the harboi', and thus dooming Boston to ruin, Mr. Jef- ferson and a few of his associates met, and, as a measure to rouse the people of all the colonies to sympathetic action with Massachu- setts, drew up some resolutions, appointing a day of fasting and prayer “ to implore Heaven to avert from us the evil of civil war, to inspire us with firmness in support of our rights, and to turn the hearts of the king and Parliament to moderation and justice.” Mr. Nichols, a man of grave and religious character, moved the resolu- tions, and they were adopted without opposition. The governor was so irritated that he dissolved the house, declaring that the meas- ure “was a high reflection upon his majesty and the Parliament of Great Britain.” The members of the Colonial Court, after the dissolution, met in association, received into their number several clergymen and pri- vate citizens, denounced the course of England, declared it unpatri- otic to purchase any of the articles which she had taxed, avowed that they considered an attack on one colony an attack on all, and recommended a General Annual Congress. This was in the spring of 1774. Thomas Jefferson, Patrick Henry, and the two Lees, were the active agents in this important movement. The clergy en- tered into the measures with earnest patriotism. The day of prayer was almost universally observed with appropriate discourses. Mr. Jefferson writes, “ The effect of the day T through the whole colony was like a shock of electricity, arousing every man, and placing him erect and solidly on his centre.” Mr. Jefferson was now very thoroughly aroused ; and he was busy with voice and pen in the assertion that the American colonies had a right to govern themselves through their own legislatures. He wrote a pamphlet entitled “ A Summary View of the Rights of Brit- ish America.” It attracted so much attention that it was published in several editions in England. The British had now unsheathed 104 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. the sword at Lexington, and Jefferson was in favor of decisive meas- ures. His pen was ever active, and every line that came from it was marked with power. At the meeting of the second convention of Virginia, in March, 1775, the resolution was adopted, earnestly advocated by Jefferson, to put the colony into a state of defense by embodying, arming, and disciplining a sufficient number of men. George Washington and Thomas Jefferson wei’e on the committee to carry these resolutions into effect. On the lltli of June, 1775, Mr. Jefferson left Williamsburg to take his seat in the Colonial Congress at Philadelphia. He traveled in a phaeton, leading two spare horses, and was ten days in making a journey which can now be accomplished in as many hours. The roads were so intricate and unfrequented, that at times he had to hire guides. Congress had been in session six weeks when he ar- rived; and he was the youngest member in the body but one. His reputation as a writer had preceded him ; and he immediately took a conspicuous stand, though he seldom spoke. John Adams, in his autobiography, alluding to the favorable impression which Mr. Jef- ferson made, writes, — “ Though a silent member in Congress, he was so prompt, frank, explicit, and decisive upon committees and in conversation (not even Samuel Adams was more so), that he soon seized upon my heart.” Blunt, brave-hearted, magnanimous John Adams could not brook opposition, and he was ever involved in quarrels. The impetuous fiery debater is, of course, more exposed to this than the careful writer who ponders the significance of every word. The native suavity of Jefferson, his modesty, and the frankness and force with which he expressed his views, captivated his opponents. It is said that he had not an enemy in Congress. In five days after he had taken his seat he was appointed on a committee to prepare an address on the causes of taking up arms. The production was mainly from his pen. It was one of the most popular documents ever written, and was greeted with enthusiasm from the pulpit and in the market-place. It was read at the head of the armies amidst the booming of cannon and the huzzas of the soldiers. Yet Thomas Jefferson suffered the reputation of the authorship to rest with one of his associates on the committee all his life long. It was only THOMAS JEFFERSON. 105 after the death of both Jefferson and Dickinson that the real author of the document was publicly known. These traits of character which are thus developed, one after another, surely indicate a very noble and extraordinary man. It is a remarkable fact, that decided as he was in his views, never in the slightest degree a trimmer, he won the confidence and the affection both of the most radical men of the progressive party and the most cautious of the conservatives. John Adams on the one side, and John Dickinson on the other, were warm personal friends of Thomas Jefferson. Soon after this, on the 22d of July, a committee, consisting of Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, and Richard H. Lee, were appointed to report on Lord North’s “ conciliatory proposition.” Jefferson, the youngest member in the house, was chosen by these illustrious colleagues to draft the paper. Even as late as the autumn of 1775 Mr. Jefferson was hoping for reconciliation with England. In a letter to Mr. Randolph, who had sided with the British, and was about to sail for England, he wrote, — “ I am sincerely one of those who still wish for reunion with the parent country ; and would rather be in dependence on Great Britain, properly limited, than on any nation upon earth, or than on no nation. But I am one of those, too, who, rather than submit to the rights of legislating for us assumed by the British Parlia- ment, and which late experience has shown they will so cruelly exercise, would lend my hand to sink the whole island in the ocean.” Three months after this, roused by the ferocity which the Brit- ish ministry were displaying, he wrote to the same man, then in England, in tones of almost prophetic solemnity and indignation : — “ Believe me, dear sir, there is not in the British empire a man who more cordially loves a union with Great Britain than I do : but, by the God that made me, I will cease to exist before I yield to a connection on such terms as the British Parliament propose ; and in this I think I speak the sentiments of America.” At length the hour came for drafting the “ Declaration of In- dependence.” The responsible task was committed to the pen of Jefferson. Franklin and Adams suggested a few verbal corrections before it was submitted to Congress. The immortal document was presented to the Congress on the 28th of June, 1776, and was adopted and signed on the 4th of July. The Declaration passed a 106 LIVES OF TEE PRESIDENTS. fiery ordeal of criticism. For three days the debate continued. Mr. Jefferson opened not his lips. “ John Adams,” it has been said, “ was the great champion of the Declaration on the floor, fight- ing fearlessly for every word of it, and with a power to which a mind masculine and impassioned in its conceptions, a will of torrent- like force, a heroism which only glared forth more luridly at the approach of danger, and a patriotism whose burning throb was rather akin to the feeling of a parent fighting over his offspring than to the colder sentiment of tamer minds, lent resistless sway.” The comic and the tragic, the sublime and the ridiculous, are ever blended in this world. One may search all the ages to find a more solemn, momentous event than the signing of the Declaration of Independence. It was accompanied with prayer to Almighty God. Silence pervaded the room as one after another affixed his name to that document, which brought down upon him the implaca- ble hate of the mightiest power upon the globe, and which doomed him inevitably to the scaffold, should the feeble colonies fail in the unequal struggle. In the midst of this scene, Benjamin Harrison, a Virginia grandee of immense corpulence, weighing something like a third of a ton, looked down upon Mr. Gerry, a small, fragile, slender man, whom a breath of wind would almost blow away, and remarked, with a characteristic chuckle, — “ Gerry, when the hanging comes , I shall have the advantage. You ’ll kick in the air half an hour after it is all over with me.” The colonies were now independent States. Jefferson resigned for a time his seat in Congress to aid in organizing the government of Virginia. Here we first meet in public with a young man — James Madison — of refined culture, of polished address, of keen powers of reasoning, of spotless purity of character, with whose name the future of the nation became intimately blended. In 1779 Mr. Jefferson was chosen governor of Virginia. He was then thirty-six years of age. The British were now preparing to strike their heaviest blows upon Georgia and the Carolinas. Es- tablishing themselves in those thinly populated States, they in- tended thence to march resistlessly towards the North. A procla- mation was also issued declaring the intention of Great Britain to devastate the colonies as utterly as possible, that, in the event of the success of the Revolution, they might prove valueless to France, who had become our ally. When Jefferson took the chair of state, THOMAS JEFFERSON. 107 Georgia had fallen helpless into the hands of the foe ; South Caro- lina was invaded, and Charleston threatened ; the savages on the Ohio and the Mississippi, provided with British arms, and often led by British officers, were perpetrating horrid outrages on our fron- tiers. In these trying hours, Mr. Jefferson, with all The energies of his mind and heart, sustained General Washington, ever ready to sacri- fice all local interests for the general cause. At one time the British officer, Tarleton, sent a secret expedition to Monticello to capture the governor. Scarcely five minutes elapsed, after the hur- ried escape of Mr. Jefferson and his family, ere his mansion was in the possession of the British troops. Mr. Jefferson had a plantation at Elk Hill, opposite Elk Island, on the James River. A detach- ment of the army of Cornwallis, in their march north from the Car- olinas, seized it. The foe destroyed all his crops, burnt his barns and fences, drove off the cattle, seized the serviceable horses, cut the throats of the colts, and left the whole plantation a smouldering, blackened waste. Twenty-seven slaves were also carried off. “ Had he carried off the slaves,” says Jefferson with characteristic mag- nanimity, “ to give them freedom, he would have done right.” A large number of these slaves died of putrid fever, then raging in the British camp. Of all this Mr. Jefferson never uttered a complaint. In September, 1776, Congress had chosen Franklin, Jefferson, and Silas Deane commissioners to negotiate treaties of alliance and commerce with France. Jefferson declined the appointment, as he deemed it necessary that he should remain at home to assist in the organization of the state government of Virginia. As governor, he had rendered invaluable service to the common cause. He was now, in June, 1781, again appointed to cooperate with Adams, Franklin, Jay, and Laurens in Europe, as ministers plenipotentiary to treat for peace : but the exceedingly delicate state of Mrs. Jeffer- son’s health, who had suffered terribly from anxiety, exposure, and grief, and who was so frail that it would have been the extreme of cruelty to expose her and her two surviving children to the peril of capture by British ships then covering the ocean, or to leave her at home separated from her husband, while Tarleton, with savage fe- rocity, was sweeping the State in all directions, rendered it clearly his duty again to decline. About this time he was thrown from his horse, and quite seriously 108 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. injured. This accident, and the sickness of his wife, confined him to his secluded forest home for several months. He improved the hours in writing his celebrated “Notes on Virginia.” The work attracted much attention, was republished in England and France, and introduced his name favorably to the philosophers of the Con- tinent. It is still a perplexing question how it was possible for Mr. Jefferson, in those days when Virginia was in many parts almost an unexplored wilderness, ranged by Indians, with scarcely any roads, to have obtained the vast amount of minute and accurate information which he has presented in these Notes. The whole is written in a glowing style of pure and undefiled English, which often soars to the eloquent. But man is born to mourn. In every life there come days which are “ cold and dark and dreary.” It was now the latter part of the year 1781. Jefferson, like Washington, was excessively sensitive to reproach ; while at the same time both of these illustrious men pos- sessed that noble nature which induced them to persevere in the course which seemed to be right, notwithstanding all the sufferings which calumny could heap upon them. A party rose in Virginia, dissatisfied with the course Jefferson had pursued in his attempt to repel the invaders of the State. They tried to drive him from his office, crush his reputation, and raise a dictator to occupy his place. The indignity pierced him to the quick. He was too proud to enter upon a defense of himself. His wife, one of the most lovely and loving of Christian ladies, and to whom he was attached with a ro- mance of affection never exceeded, was sinking away in lingering death. There was no hope of her recovery. The double calamity of a pitiless storm of vituperation out of doors, and a dying wife within, so affected his spirits that he resolved to retire from public life, and to spend the remainder of his days in the quietude of his desolated home. It was indeed a gloomy day which was now set- tling down around him. He had been pursued like a felon, from place to place, by the British soldiery. His property had been wantonly and brutally de- stroyed. Many of his slaves whom he loved, and whose freedom he was laboring to secure, had perished miserably. He was suffering from severe personal injuries caused by the fall from his horse. His wife was dying, and his good name was fiercely assailed. Mrs. Jefferson was a Christian, a loving disciple of the Redeemer. THOMAS JEFFERSON. 109 But there were no cheering Christian hopes to sustain the sinking heart of her husband ; for he had many doubts respecting the truth of Christianity. He must often have exclaimed in anguish of spirit, “ Oh that I could believe ! ” The poison of skepticism had been early instilled into his nature ; and in these hours of earthly gloom he had no faith, no hope, to support him. Happy is he, who, in such seasons of sorrow, can by faith hear a Saviour’s voice whisper- ing to him, “ Let not your heart be troubled.” Beautifully has Jef- ferson’s biographer, Mr. Randall, said, in describing these scenes, — “ The faithful daughter of the Church had no dread of the here- after ; but she yearned to remain with her husband with that yearn- ing which seems to have power to retard even the approaches of death. Her eyes were rested on him, ever followed him. When he spoke, no other sound could reach her ear or attract her attention. When she waked from slumber, she looked momentarily alarmed and distressed, and even appeared to be frightened, if the customary form was not bending over her, the customary look upon her.” For weeks Mr. Jefferson sat lovingly, but with a crushed heart, at that bedside. Unfeeling letters were sent to him, accusing him of weakness, of unfaithfulness to duty, in thus secluding himself at home, and urging him again to come forth to life’s great battle. For four months Jefferson was never beyond the call of his dying wife. No woman could have proved a more tender nurse. He seemed unwilling that any one else should administer to her medi- cine and drink. When not at her bedside, he was writing in a closet which opened at the head of her bed. She died on the 6th of Sep- tember, 1782. Who can imagine the anguish which a warm-hearted man must feel in witnessing the death of a wife whom he loved I almost to adoration, and unsustained by that hope of reunion in heaven which a belief in Christianity confers ? His distress was so terrible that his friends were comuelled to lead him from the room, almost in a state of insensibility, before the scene was closed. With difficulty they conveyed him into the library. He fainted entirely away, and remained so long insensible that it was feared he never would recover. His eldest daughter, Mrs. Randolph, writes, — “ The violence of his emotion, when almost by stealth I entered his room at night, to this day I dare not trust myself to describe. He kept his room three weeks, and I was never a moment from his side. He walked almost incessantly night and day ; only lying 110 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. down occasionally, when nature was completely exhausted, on a pallet which had been brought in during his long fainting-fit. When at last he left his room, he rode out ; and from that time lie was incessantly on horseback, rambling about the mountain, in the least frequented roads, and just as often through the woods. In those melancholy rambles, I was his constant companion ; a solitary witness to many violent bursts of grief, the remembrance of which has consecrated particular scenes of that lost home beyond the power of time to obliterate.” The inscription which the philosopher, uncheered by Christian faith, placed upon the gravestone of his companion, one cannot but read with sadness. It was a quotation, in Greek, from the “Iliad,” of the apostrophe of Achilles over the dead body of Hector. The lines are thus freely translated by Pope : — “ If, in the melancholy shades below, The flames of friends and lovers cease to glow, Yet mine shall sacred last; mine, undecayed, Burn on through death, and animate my shade.” Without the light which Christianity gives, death is, indeed, the king of terrors, and the grave retains its victory. Forty-four years after the death of Mrs. Jefferson there were found in a secret drawer in a private cabinet, to which he frequently resorted, locks of hair, and various other little souvenirs of his wife, with words of endear- ment upon the envelopes. He never married again. This tender- ness of affection in this man of imperial mind and inflexible resolve is one of the most marked traits of his character. The English ministry were now getting tired of the war. The opposition in Parliament had succeeded in carrying a resolution on the 4th of March, 1782, “That all those who should advise, or by any means attempt, the further prosecution of offensive war in America, should be considered as enemies to their king and country.” This popular decision overcame the obstinacy of the king, and he was compelled to make overtures for peace. Mr. Jefferson was re- appointed on the 12th of November by Congress, unanimously, and without a single adverse remark, minister plenipotentiary to nego- tiate a treaty. Alluding to this, he writes to a friend, “ Your letter found me a little emerging from the stupor of mind which had rendered me as dead to the world as she whose loss occasioned it. Before that THOMAS JEFFERSON. Ill event, my scheme of life had been determined. I had folded my- self in the arms of retirement, and rested all prospects of future happiness on domestic and literary objects. In this state of mind an appointment from Congress found me, requiring me to cross the Atlantic.” There 'were various and complicated obstacles in the way of his departure ; while, in the mean time, the treaty of peace was ef- fected, and it became unnecessary for him to go upon that mission. Those who had assailed him had withdrawn their accusations, and legislative enactment had done justice to his career. He was again elected to Congress. At this period he wrote many affectionate letters to his daughters, who were then at school. These letters reveal the heart of a watchful and loving father. Martha, who was at school at Annapolis, had been disturbed by some predictions re- specting the speedy end of the world. He writes to her, — “ As to preparations for that event, the best way for you is to be always prepared for it. The only way to be so is never to do or say a bad thing. If ever you are about to say anything amiss, or to do anything wrong, consider beforehand. You will feel something within you which will tell you it is wrong, and ought not to be said or done. This is your conscience, and be sure to obey. Our Maker has given us all this faithful internal monitor ; and, if you always obey it, you will always be prepared for the end of the world, or for a much more certain event, — which is death. This must happen to all. It puts an end to the world as to us ; and the way to be ready for it is never to do a wrong act.” Her sainted Christian mother would have added to this most ex- cellent advice, “And, my dear child, pray night and morning to your heavenly Father that He will help you to do right, and to resist temptation to do wrong. And, when you feel your own un- worthiness, do not be disheartened. God is a loving father. He has given his Son to die for us ; and, sinners as we all are, we can be forgiven if we repent, and trust in him.” In March, 1784, Mr. Jefferson was appointed on a committee to draft a plan for the government of that immense region called the Northwestern Territory. The draft is still preserved in his handwriting in Washington. True to his unwavering principle of devotion to the rights of humanity, he inscribed in the oi'dinance the provision, “ That, after the year 1800 of the Christian era, there 112 LIVES OF TEE PRESIDENTS. shall be neither slavery nor involuntary servitude in any of the said States, otherwise than in punishmnt of crimes whereof the party shall have been duly convicted to have been personally guilty.” This clause was stricken out by motion of Mr. Spaight of North Carolina, seconded by Mr. Read of South Carolina. Mr. Jefferson had wonderful power of winning men to his opin- ions, while he scrupulously avoided all controversy. The following extract from a letter to his grandson brings clearly to light this trait in his character : — “ In stating prudential rules for our government in society, I must not omit the important one of never entering into dispute or argument with another. I never yet saw an instance of one of two disputants convincing the other by argument. I have , seen many of them getting warm, becoming rude, and shooting one another. Conviction is the effect of our own dispassionate reasoning, either in solitude or weighing within ourselves dispassionately what we hear from others, standing uncommitted in argument ourselves. It was one of the rules, which, above all others, made Dr. Franklin the most amiable of men in society, ‘ never to contradict anybody.’ ” Jefferson was by nature a gentleman, — affable, genial, courte- ous, considerate to the poor. Thus he was a great favorite with all who knew him. Stormy as were the times in which he lived, he never got into a personal altercation with any one, never gave or received a challenge, and was never known to encounter a personal insult. In May, 1784, Congress appointed Mr. Jefferson to act as min- ister plenipotentiary with Mr. Adams and Dr. Franklin in nego- tiating treaties of commerce with foreign nations. Leaving two daughters with their maternal aunt, one six years of age and the other a frail babe of two years, Avho soon died, he took his eldest daughter Martha with him, and sailed for Europe on the 5th of July from Boston. After a delightful voyage he reached Paris on the 6th of August. Here he placed his daughter at school, and, meeting his colleagues at Passy, engaged vigorously with them in accomplishing the object of his mission. Dr. Franklin, now aged and infirm, obtained permission to return home from his embassy to France. His genial character, combined with his illustrious merit, had won the love of the French people ; and he was un- boundedly popular with both peasant and prince. Such attentions THOMAS JEFFERSON. 113 were lavished upon him in his journey from Paris to the coast, that it was almost an ovation. It was, indeed, a delicate matter to step into the position which had been occupied by one so enthusiasti- cally admired. Few men could have done this so gracefully as did Jefferson. “You replace M. Franklin, I hear,” said the celebrated French minister, the Count de Yergennes. “ I succeed him,” was the prompt reply : “ no man can replace him.” The French officers who had served in America had carried back glowing reports of Mr. Jefferson, as the accomplished gentleman, the brilliant scholar and philosopher, and the profound statesman. One of his noble visitors, the Count Chastellux, had written a graphic account of his elegant mountain-home, amidst the sublime solitudes of the Alleghanies, where, from his veranda, he looked down upon countless leagues of the primeval forest, and where the republican senator administered the rites of hospitality with grace which would have adorned the saloons of Versailles. Jefferson and Franklin were kindred spirits. They were both on the most friendly terms with the French minister. “I found the Count de Yergennes,” writes Mr. Jefferson, “as frank, as honorable, as easy of access to reason, as any man with whom I had ever done business.” Even Mr. Adams’s dogmatic spirit was mollified by the urbanity of his colleague, and the most sincere attachment existed between them. Mrs. Adams, who stood upon the highest platform of moral excellence, and who was a keen judge of character, was charmed with Mr. Jefferson, and wrote to her sister that he was “ the chosen of the earth.” His saloon was ever crowded with the choicest society of Paris. If any distinguished stranger came to the gay metropolis, he was sure to find his way to the hotel of the American ambassador. No foreign minister, with the exception of Franklin, was ever so ca- ressed before. The gentleness and refinement of French manners possessed great charms for one of his delicate and sensitive nature. “ Here,” he wrote, “ it seems that a man might pass his life with- out encountering a single rudeness.” Still he was very much opposed to Americans going to Europe for an education. He said that they were in danger of acquiring a fondness for European luxury and dissipation, and would look 8 114 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. with contempt upon the simplicity of their own country ; that they would be fascinated by the privileges enjoyed by the aristocracy ; that they would lose that perfect command of their own language which can never be acquired if neglected during the period between fifteen and twenty years of age. “It appears to me, then,” he says, “that an American coming to Europe for education loses in his knowledge, in his morals, in his health, in his habits, and in his happiness.” Mr. Jefferson occupied in Paris a very fine house on the Champs Elysdes ; he had also taken some rooms in the Carthusian monastery on Mount Calvary. When business pressed him, he would retire, and bury himself for a time in the unbroken solitude of this retreat. He was deeply impressed with the degradation and oppression of the great mass of the French people ; and his detestation of the execrable government under which France groaned increased every day. As he pondered the misery into which twenty millions of people were plunged through that terrible despotism which had been the slow growth of ages, and which placed all the wealth, honor, and power of the realm in the hands of a few noble families, he often expressed the conviction, which was ever after the first article in his political creed, that our liberties could never be safe unless they were placed in the hands of the masses of the people, and those people were well educated. In France, he found universally kind and respectful feelings towards our country. The philosophers and all the thinkers were charmed with the new era of republican liberty which we had in- troduced; and even the court, gratified that we had been the in- strument of humbling the intolerable arrogance of Great Britain, was ever ready to greet with words of most cordial welcome the representatives of the United States. There never has been a story more falsely told, never a perversion of history more thorough, than the usual representations which have been made of the French Rev- olution, — the most sublime conflict, the most wonderful tragedy, of all the ages. The combined despotic courts of Europe endeavored to crush the people in their despairing struggle to shake off the fetters which had eaten through the flesh to the bone ; and then, having fastened the fetters on again • and riveted them anew, the hireling advocates of these despotisms gave their own base version of the story to the world. THOMAS JEFFERSON. 115 In the despairing hours of this conflict the French people were at times driven to such frenzy as to lose all self-control. The spirit with which they were assailed maddened them. “ Kings and queens,” wrote an Austrian princess, “should no more heed the clamors of the people than the moon heeds the barking of dogs.” The sympathies of Jefferson were always with the people struggling for popular rights ; never with those struggling to crush those rights. In March, 1786, he went to London with Mr. Adams to negotiate a treaty of commerce. His sensitive nature keenly felt the insulting coldness of his reception. “ On my presentation as usual to the king and queen,” he writes, “it was impossible for anything to be more ungracious than their notice of Mr. Adams and myself.” Speaking of the delicacy of his mental organization, the Hon. Mr. Coles of Philadelphia, a life-long friend of Jefferson, writes, “ He not only could never enter on any freedom in manners or conversa- tion himself, but any approach to a broad one in his presence made him literally blush like a boy.” His sympathies with France were increased by the conviction, which he never hesitated to avow, that, but for the aid which we derived from that country, we never could have gained our inde- pendence. In a letter written about this time, he gives the fol- lowing as his estimate of the character of his illustrious colleague, John Adams : — “ You know the opinion I formerly entertained of my friend Mr. Adams. A seven months’ intimacy with him here, and as many weeks in London, have given me opportunities of studying him closely. He is vain, irritable, and a bad calculator of the force and probable effect of the motives which govern men. This is all the ill which can possibly be said of him. He is as disinterested as the Being who made him. He is profound in his views, and accurate in his judgment, except where knowledge of the world is necessary to found judgment. He is so amiable, that I pronounce you will love him if ever you become acquainted with him. He would be, as he was, a great man in Congress.” Jefferson was present at the opening of the Assembly of Nota- bles, at Versailles, on the 22d of February, 1787. Soon after, he wrote to Lafayette, “ Keeping the good model of your neighboring country before your eyes, you may yet get on, step by step, towards a good constitution. Though that model is not perfect, as it would 116 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. unite more suffrages than any new one which could be proposed, it is better to make that the object. If every advance is to be pur- chased by filling the royal coffers with gold, it will be gold well employed.” This was the plan of Lafayette and his coadjutors to establish popular rights in France under a monarchy framed on the model of the British Constitution. Jefferson agreed with these men in their wish to maintain the monarchical form of government, as the best for them. But he would surround it with republican institutions. He had great influence with all the patriot leaders, and was fre- quently consulted by them in their most important measures. While engaged in these matters of national interest, he wrote to his daugh- tei’s, and watched over them with truly feminine tenderness. He was a mother as well as a father to them. His lettei’s wei’e filled with affection, and entered into the most minute details of the practi- cal rules of life. To his daughter, who wished to incur some slight debt, lie wi’ote, — “ This is a departure from that rule which I wish to see you governed by through your whole life, — of never buying anything which you have not money in your pocket to pay for. Be assured that it gives much more pain to the mind to be in debt, than to do without any article whatever which we may seem to want.” It is the concurrent testimony of his children and gi’andchildren, that, in all his domestic relations, he was one of the most amiable of men ; never speaking a harsh word, never manifesting sullenness or anger or irritation. His daughter Martha, one of the most accom- plished of ladies, wi’ites, “ Never, never did I witness a particle of injustice in my father. Never have I heard him say a word, or seen him do an act, which I, at the time or afterwai’ds, regretted. We venerated him as something wiser and better than other men. He seemed to know evei-ything, — even the thoughts of our minds, and all our untold wishes. We wondered that we did not fear him; and yet we did not, any more than we did companions of our own age.” In all their joys, in all their griefs, these motherless girls ran to their father. Never was there a more beautiful exhibition of the parental tie. All the honors which Mr. Jefferson received seemed to produce no change in the simplicity of his republican tastes. To one of the friends of his early years he wrote at this time, — THOMAS JEFFERSON. 117 “ There are minds which can be pleased by honors and prefer- ments ; but I see nothing in them but envy and enmity. It is only necessary to possess them to know how little they contribute to happiness, or rather how hostile they are to it. I had rather be shut up in a very modest cottage with my books, my family, and a few old friends, dining on simple bacon, and letting the world roll on as it liked, than to occupy the most splendid post which any hu- man power can give.” And now the king’s troops, with clattering cavalry and lumber- ing artillery, came pouring into the streets of Paris to crush the patriots. No reform was to be permitted, no constitution to be allowed. The cry of perishing millions, ragged, starving, was to be answered with the sword, the musket, and the cannon. Mr. Jeffer- son, in his carriage, chanced to witness the first collision between the royal troops and the people in the Place of Louis XV. It is difficult to turn away from the sublime and tremendous scenes which now ensued ; but this brief sketch compels us to omit them all. The demolition of the Bastille; the rush of Paris upon Ver- sailles ; the capture of the king and queen, and their transportation to the Tuileries; the attempted flight, arrest, trial, imprisonment, execution, — where is there to be found another such drama in the annals of time ? Jefferson thought, that, could the weak but kind- hearted king have been left to himself, he would in good faith have accepted and carried out the contemplated reforms. Amidst these stormy scenes the National Assembly conferred the unprecedented compliment upon Mr. Jefferson of inviting him to attend and assist in their deliberations ; but he felt constrained to decline the honor, as his sense of delicacy would not allow him to take such a part in the internal transactions of a country to whose court he was a recognized ambassador. One day he received a note from Lafayette, informing him that he should bring a party of six or eight friends to ask a dinner of him the next day. They came, — Lafayette, and seven of the leading patriots, the representatives of different parties in the Assembly. The cloth being removed, after dinner, Lafayette introduced the object of the meeting, re- marking that it was necessary to combine their energies, or all was lost. The conference continued for six hours, — from four in the afternoon until ten at night: “During which time,” writes Jeffer- son, “ I was a silent witness to a coolness and candor of argument 118 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. unusual in the conflicts of political opinion, to a logical reasoning and chaste eloquence, disfigured by no gaudy tinsel of rhetoric or declamation, and truly worthy of being placed in parallel with the finest dialogues of antiquity as handed to us by Xenophon, by Plato and Cicero.” They agreed upon a single legislature, giving the king a veto. Mr. Jefferson, considering his relation to the court, was placed in a very embarrassing situation in having such a conference thus held at his house. With his characteristic frankness, he promptly de- cided what to do. The next morning he waited on Count Mont- morin, the minister of the king, and explained to him just how it had happened. The minister very courteously replied that he already knew everything that had passed ; and that, instead of tak- ing umbrage at the use thus made of his house, he would be glad to have Mr. Jefferson assist at all such conferences, being sure that his influence would tend to moderate the warmer spirits, and to pro- mote only salutary reform. Soon after this Mr. Jefferson returned to America. As we have mentioned, his departed wife had been a member of the Episcopal Church. Her eldest daughter, Martha, had all her moral and re- ligious feelings educated in that direction. Her father never uttered a word to lead his children to suppose that he had any doubts re- specting Christianity. He attended the Episcopal Church with them, and devoutly took part in the responses. In France, Mr. Jefferson had placed his daughters at school in a convent. Martha, a serious, thoughtful, reverential girl, of fine mind and heart, be- came very deeply impressed with the seclusion, the devotion, the serene life, of Panthemont. Having one of those sensitive natures peculiarly susceptible to such influences, and dreaming of finding freedom in the cell of the nun from the frivolities, turmoil, and temptations of life, she wrote to her father for permission to remain in the convent, and to dedicate herself to the duties of a religious life. A few days passed, and there was no answer. Then her father’s carriage rolled up to the door of the convent. Martha, trembling, and with palpitating heart, advanced to meet him. He greeted her with almost more than his wonted cordiality and affection, held a short pi'ivate interview with the abbess, and informed his daughters that he had come to take them away. The carriage rolled from the THOMAS JEFFERSON. 119 door, and their days in the convent were ended. Martha, tall, graceful^ beautiful, accomplished, was introduced to society, and became the ornament of her father’s saloons; and never was there the slightest allusion made, by word or letter, to her desire to enter the convent. In after years, she spoke, with a heart full of grati- tude, of her father’s judicious course on the occasion. Her wish was not a deep religious conviction : it was merely the transient emotion of a romantic girl. This was in April, 1789. Jefferson had not expected to remain so long in Europe. He was now anxious to return with his daugh- ters to his own country. We have spoken of the two parties then rising in the United States, one of which would rather favor Eng- land in commercial and legislative policy : the other would favor France. John Adams was a distinguished representative of the English party. He scouted the idea that we owed any gratitude to France for her intervention in our behalf. Jefferson was promi- nently of the French party. In the following terms he expresses his views upon this subject, in a letter to Mr. James Madison. Speak- ing of the National Assembly in France, he says, — “ It is impossible to desire better dispositions toward us than prevail in this Assembly. Our proceedings have been viewed as a model for them on every occasion. I am sorry, that, in the moment of such a disposition, anything should come from us to check it. The placing them on a mere footing with the English will have this effect. When, of two nations, the one has engaged herself in a ruinous war for us ; has spent her blood and money to save us ; has opened her bosom to us in peace, and received us almost on the footing of her own citizens ; while the other has moved heaven, earth, and hell to exterminate us in war ; has insulted us in all her councils in peace ; shut her doors to us in every port where her inter- ests would permit it ; libeled us in foreign nations ; endeavored to poison them against the reception of our most precious commodities, — to place these two nations on a footing is to give a great deal more to one than to the other, if the maxim be true, that, to make unequal quantities equal, you must add more to one than to the other.” Having obtained leave of absence, Jefferson left Paris, to return to America, on the 23d of September, 1789. His numerous friends gathered around him on his departure, with the warmest demon- 120 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. there in those days. They set out in a private carriage, borrow- ing horses of their friends, for Monticello ; which they reached on the 23d of December. They loitered on the way, making several friendly visits. Two or three days before reaching home, Mr. Jef- ferson sent an express to his overseer to have his house made ready for his reception. The news spread like wildfire through the negro- huts, clustered at several points over the immense plantation. The slaves begged for a holiday to receive their master. The whole strations of admiration and love. It was supposed that he was leaving but for a short visit home. Had it been known that his departure was to be final, his unbounded popularity would have con- ferred upon him no less imposing demonstrations than those which had been lavished upon Benjamin Franklin. After the usual vicissitudes of a sea-voyage, Mr. Jefferson and his daughters landed at Norfolk in December. There were no stages Jefferson’s return to monticello. THOMAS JEFFERSON. 121 number, men, women, and children, at an early hour, dressed in their best, were straggling along towards the foot of the mountain to meet the carriage about two miles from the mansion. After waiting several hours, a coach, drawn by four horses, was seen approaching. The negroes raised a shout, and in a moment were surrounding the carriage. In spite of the entreaties of their master, — : probably not very earnestly given, — they detached the horses, and, some dragging, some pushing, and all shouting at the top of their lungs, whirled the coach along until they reached the lawn in front of the house. As, in the midst of the wild uproar, Mr. Jefferson stepped from the carriage, a network of black, sinewy arms grasped him ; and, with resounding triumph, he was borne up the steps and into his home. With instinctive delicacy, “ the crowd then respectfully broke apart for the young ladies ; and as the stately, graceful Martha and the little fairy-like Maria advanced between the dark lines, shouts rent the sky, and many a curly-headed urchin was held aloft to catch a look at what their mothers and sisters were already firmly per- suaded could not be paralleled in the Ancient Dominion.” Mr. Jefferson was, from beginning to end, an ardent admirer and warm supporter of Washington ; and the esteem was reciprocal. Immediately upon his return from France, Washington wrote to him in the most flattering terms, urging upon him a seat in his Cabinet as Secretary of State. After some conference he accepted the appoint- ment. Martha, having forgotten her disposition to be a nun, was married on the 23d of February, 1790, to a very splendid young man, — Colonel Thomas M. Randolph. A few days after the wedding, on the 1st of March, Mr. Jefferson set out for New York, which was then the seat of government. He went by way of Richmond and Alexandria. The roads were horrible. At the latter place he took a stage, sending his carriage round by water, and leading his horses. Through snow and mud, their speed seldom exceeded three or four miles an hour by day, and one mile an hour by night. A fortnight, of great fatigue, was consumed in the journey. Occasional^ Jef- ferson relieved the monotony of the dreary ride by mounting his led saddle-horse. At Philadelphia he called upon his friend Benja- min Franklin, then in his last illness. The American Revolution did not originate in hostility to a mon- archical form of government, but in resisting the oppressions which 122 LIVES OF TEE PRESIDENTS. that government was inflicting upon the American people. Conse- quently, many persons, who were most active in the Revolution, would have been very willing to see an independent monarchy es- tablished here. But Mr. Jefferson had seen so much of the perni- cious influence of kings and courts in Europe that he had become an intense republican. Upon his. arrival in New York he was much surprised at the freedom with which many persons advocated a monarchical government. He writes, — “ I cannot describe the wonder and mortification with which the table conversation filled me. Politics were the chief topic ; and a preference of a kingly over a republican government was evidently the favorite sentiment. An apostate I could not be, nor yet a hyp- ocrite; and I found myself, for the most part, the only advocate on the republican side of the question, unless among the guests there chanced to be some member of that party from the legislative houses.” Washington was constitutionally, and by all the habits of his life, averse to extremes. He was a sincere republican, and, being thor- oughly national in his affections, kept as far as possible aloof from parties; sacredly administering the government in accordance with the Constitution which he revered. In the great conflict which has ensued, neither party has ventured very loudly to claim him. It cannot, however, be denied, that, with the Federalists, he felt the need of a little more strength in the national government to meet the emergencies which the growing wealth, population, and power of the nation would eventually introduce. The great pressure which Adams and his friends had foreseen came when our civil war was ushered in. The government, struggling for very existence, instinct- ively grasped those powers which were found to be essential to its preservation ; scarcely stopping to ask whether the act were author- ized by the Constitution or not. On the 1st of September Mr. Jefferson set out for his home in his private carriage. He took Mr. Madison with him. They stopped at Mount Vernon, and spent a few days with President Washington. His letters to his daughters, during his six months’ absence in New York, are truly beautiful as developments of pa- rental solicitude and love. To Maria he writes, who was then but twelve years of age, — “ Tell me whether you see the sun rise every day ; how many THOMAS JEFFERSON. 123 pages a day you read in ‘Don Quixote,’ — how far you are ad- vanced in him ; whether you repeat a grammar-lesson every day ; what else you read ; how many hours a day you sew ; whether you have an opportunity of continuing your music ; whether you know how to make a pudding yet, to cut out a beef-steak, to sow spinach, or to set a hen. Be good, my dear, as I have always found you ; never be angry with anybody, nor speak hard of them ; try to let everybody’s faults be forgotten, as you would wish yours to be ; take more pleasure in giving what is best to another than in having it yourself ; and then all the world will love you, and I more than all the world. If your sister is with you kiss her, and tell her how much I love her also.” Mr. Jefferson remained at Monticello, in a delighted reunion with his loved and loving children, until the 8th of November, when his official duties called him back to New York. Mr. Madison again took a seat in his carriage, and again they paid the President a short visit at Mount Vernon. John Adams was then Vice-President ; Alexander Hamilton, Secretary of the Treasury. The favorable opinion which both these illustrious men entertained of the English Constitution was well known. Mr. Jefferson states, that at a small dinner-party which he gave early in 1791, both Adams and Hamilton being present, Mr. Adams said, speaking of the British Constitution, “ Purge that constitution of its corruption, and give to its popular branch equality of representation, and it will be the most perfect constitution ever devised by the wit of man.” Mr. Hamilton, after a moment’s pause, said, “ Purge it of its corruption, and give to its popular branch equality of representation, and it will become an impracti- cable government. As it stands at present, with all its supposed defects, it is the most perfect government which ever existed.” “ This,” says Mr. Jefferson, “ was assuredly the exact line which separated the political creeds of these two gentlemen. The one was for two hereditary branches, and an honest elective one ; the other, for an hereditary king, with a house of lords and commons corrupted to his will, and standing between him and the people.” In the later years of his life Mr. Jefferson gave it as his opinion, that, though Mr. Adams had been originally a republican, the glare of royalty and nobility which he had witnessed in England had made him believe their fascination a necessary ingredient in government. 124 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. To throw light upon the political rupture which subsequently took place between Mr. Jefferson and Mr. Adams, the following extract from one of Mr. Jefferson’s letters, under date of May 8, 1791, will be read with interest : — “ I am afraid the indiscretion of a printer has committed me with my friend Mr. Adams, for whom, as one of the most honest and dis- interested men alive, I have a cordial esteem, increased by long habits of concurrence of opinion in the days of his republicanism ; and, even since his apostasy to hereditary monarchy and nobility, we differ as friends should do.” Two months after this Mr. Jefferson wrote a very friendly letter to Mr. Adams, in which he alludes to the difference which he sup- posed existed between them in reference to government. Assuming that both of these illustrious men were perfectly frank and honest, knowing that they were most intimately acquainted with each other, and had been so for years, discussing publicly and privately, on the floor of Congress and in committees, every conceivable point of na- tional polity, and remembering that the slight estrangement which had now arisen originated in the fact that Mr. Adams had published a pamphlet expressing political views which Mr. Jefferson deemed so erroneous that he wished to have an English pamphlet, written by Thomas Paine, republished as an answer to them, we read with no little surprise Mr. Adams’s reply,, in which he says, — “ You observe, ‘ That you and I differ in our ideas of the best form of government is well known to us both.’ But, my dear sir, you will give me leave to say that I do not know this. I know not what your idea is of the best form of government. You and I have never had a serious conversation together, that I can recollect, con- cerning the nature of government. The very transient hints that have ever passed between us have been jocular and superficial, with- out ever coming to an explanation. If you suppose that I have, or ever had, a design or desire of attempting to introduce a govern- ment of king, lords, and commons, or, in other words, an hereditary executive or an hereditary senate, either into the government of the United States or that of any individual state, you are wholly mis- taken.” In pondering this remarkable statement, there is a possible solu- tion of its apparent difficulty in the supposition, that while Mr„ Adams considered the British Constitution, if purged as he had THOMAS JEFFERSON. 125 proposed, the best that had ever existed, he had still no idea what- ever of attempting to make our Constitution give place to it. It has also been suggested, that, from the peculiarity of Mr. Adams’s mind, he did not regard anything in the light of political disquisition which did not embrace at least a folio or two. The flame of partisan feeling began now to burn more and more intensely throughout the whole length and breadth of the United States. Lafayette, in France, was then at the head of the patriot army struggling against the despotisms of Europe, with the hope, daily becoming more faint, of establishing popular rights in his native land. Mr. Jefferson wrote to him under date of June 16, 1792,— “ Behold you, then, my dear friend, at the head of a great army, establishing the liberties of your country against a foreign enemy. May Heaven favor your cause, and make you the channel through which it may pour its favors ! While you are extirpating the mon- ster aristocracy , and pulling out the teeth and fangs of its associate monarchy , a contrary tendency is discovered in some here. A sect has shown itself among us, who declare that they espoused our new Constitution, not as a good and sufficient thing in itself, but only as a step to an English Constitution, — the only thing good and suf- ficient in itself in their eyes. It is happy for us that these are preachers without followers, and that our people are firm and con- stant in their republican purity. You will wonder to be told that it is from the eastward chiefly that these champions for a king, lords, and commons come.” President Washington watched with great anxiety the rising storm, and did all he could to quell its fury. His Cabinet was di- vided. General Hamilton, Secretary of the Treasury, was leader of the so-called Federal party. Mr. Jefferson, Secretary of State, was leader of the Republican party. On the 30th of September, 1792, as he was going from Monticello to the seat of government, he stopped, as usual, at Mount Vernon, and spent a night with Presi- dent Washington. Mr. Jefferson makes the following record in his note-book of this interview, which shows conclusively that President Washington did not agree with Mr. Jefferson in his belief that there was a strong monarchical party in this country : — “ The President,” he writes, “ expressed his concern at the differ- erence which he found to subsist between the Secretary of the Treas- 126 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. ury and myself, of which, be said, he had not been aware. He knew, indeed, that there was a marked difference in our political senti- ments ; but he had never suspected it had gone so far in producing a personal difference, and he wished he could be the mediator to put an end to it ; that he thought it important to preserve the check of my opinions in the administration, in order to keep things in their proper channel, and prevent them from going too far ; that , as to the idea of transforming this government into a monarchy , he did not believe there were ten men in the United States, whose opinions were worth attention , who entertained such a thought .” Some important financial measures which were proposed by Mr. Hamilton, Mr. Jefferson violently opposed. They were, however, sustained by the Cabinet, adopted by both houses of the legislature, and approved by the President. The enemies of Mr. Jefferson now pressed him with the charge of indelicacy in holding office under a government whose leading measures he opposed. Bitter was the warfare waged between the two hostile secretaries. We now and then catch a glimpse of Washington in this bitter strife, endeavoring, like an angel of peace, to lay the storm. Hamilton accused Jeffer- son of lauding the Constitution in public, while in private he had ad- mitted that it contained those imperfections of want of power which Hamilton laid to its charge. This accusation was so seriously made, that Mr. Jefferson sent a document to the President to disprove it, containing numerous extracts from his private and confidential cor- respondence. The President replied, under date of October 18, 1792,— “ I did not require the evidence of the extracts which you in- closed to me to convince me of your attachment to the Constitution of the United States, or your disposition to promote the general welfare of this country ; but I regret, deeply regret, the difference in opinions which has arisen, and divided you and another principal officer of the government ; and I wish devoutly there could be an accommodation of them by mutual yieldings. I will frankly and solemnly declare, that I believe the views of both of you to be pure and well meant, and that experience only will decide with respect to the salutariness of the measures which are the subjects of dispute. I am persuaded that there is no discordance in your views. I have a great, a sincere esteem and regard for you both, and ardently wish that some line could be marked out by which both of you could walk.” THOMAS JEFFERSON. 127 The President seems to have been in accord with Mi*. Jefferson in his views of the importance of maintaining cordial relations with France. Both England and Spain were then making encroach- ments upon us, very menacing in their aspect. The President, in a conversation with Mr. Jefferson, on the 27th of December, 1792, urged the necessity of making sure of the alliance with France in the event of a rupture with either of these powers. “ There is no nation,” said he, •“ on whom we can rely at all times, but France.” This had long been one of the fundamental principles of Mr. Jeffer- son’s policy. Upon the election of President Washington to his second term of office, Mr. Jefferson wished to retire from the Cabi- net. Dissatisfaction with the measures of the government was doubtless a leading cause. At the earnest solicitation, however, of the President, he consented to remain in his position, which was daily becoming more uncomfortable, until the last of July, when he again sent in his resignation. But still again President Washington so earnestly entreated him to remain, that, very reluctantly, he consented to continue in office until the close of the year. In the following extracts from a letter to James Madison, it will be seen how irksome the duties of his office had become to him : — “ I have now been in the public service four and twenty years ; one half of which has been spent in total occupation with their affairs, and absence from my own. I have served my tour, then. The motion of my blood no longer keeps time with the tumult of the world. It leads me to seek happiness in the lap and love of my family ; in the society of my neighbors and my books ; in the wholesome occupation of my farm and my affairs ; in an interest or affection in every bud that opens, in every breath that blows around me ; in an entire freedom of rest, of motion, of thought ; owing account to myself alone of my hours and actions. “ What must be the principle of that calculation which should balance against these the circumstances of my present existence ? — worn down with labors from morning to night, and day to day ; knowing them as fruitless to others as they are vexatious to my- self ; committed singly in desperate and eternal contest against a host, who are systematically undermining the public liberty and prosperity ; even the rare hours of relaxation sacrified to the society of persons m tne same intentions, of whose hatred I am conscious, 128 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. even in those moments of conviviality when the heart wishes most to open itself to the effusions of friendship and confidence ; cut off from my family and friends ; my affairs abandoned to chaos and derangement ; in short, giving everything I love in exchange for everything I hate ; and all this without a single gratification in pos- session or prospect, in present enjoyment or future wish.” In the following terms, the President, on the 1st of January, 1794, accepted Mr. Jefferson’s final resignation : “ I received yes- terday, with sincere regret, your resignation of the office of Secre- tary of State. Since it has been impossible to prevail upon you to forego any longer the indulgence of your desire for private life, the event, however anxious I am to avert it, must be submitted to ; but I cannot suffer you to leave your station without assuring you that the opinion which I had formed of your integrity and talents, and which dictated your original nomination, has been confirmed by the fullest experience, and that both have been eminently displayed in the discharge of your duty.” On the 5th of January Mr. Jefferson, with his fragile, beauti- ful daughter Maria, left Philadelphia for his loved retreat at Monti- cello. On the 16th he reached home. So utterly weary was he of public affairs, that he endeavored to forget them entirely. Four months after this, in May, he wrote to John Adams, then Vice- President, “ I do not take a single newspaper, nor read one a month. I feel myself infinitely the happier for it.” His landed estate at this time consisted of ten thousand six hundred and forty-seven acres. He had sold a considerable portion to pay off some debts with which his wife’s patrimony was incumbered. His slaves amounted to one hundred and fifty-four. From the lawn at Monti- cello he could look down upon six thousand of his broad acres, spread out magnificently before him. He had thirty-four horses, five mules, two hundred and forty-nine cattle, three hundred and ninety hogs. Such an estate as this will not take care of itself ; and he found, through his long absence from home, his fields ex- hausted, and his affairs in confusion. Nine months passed away in entire devotion to the cares of the farm, and in enjoying the en- dearments of his children and his grandchildren. President Wash- ington then made another endeavor to call him back to the Cabinet. In reply, Mr. Jefferson wrote to the Secretary of State, through whom the application came, — THOMAS JEFFERSON. 129 “ No circumstances, my dear sir, will ever more tempt me to en- gage in anything public. I thought myself perfectly fixed in this determination when I left Philadelphia ; but every day and hour since has added to its inflexibility. It is a great pleasure to me to retain the esteem and approbation of the President ; and this forms the only ground of any reluctance at being unable to comply with every wish of his.” Every day the political horizon was growing more stormy. All Europe was in the blaze of war. England, the most powerful mon- archy on the globe, was straining every nerve to crush the French Revolution. The haughty course which the British government pursued towards the United States had exasperated even the placid Washington. He wrote to General Hamilton on the 31st of Au- gust, 17 94, — “ By these high-handed measures of that government, and the outrageous and insulting conduct of its officers, it would seem next to impossible to keep peace between the United States and Great Britain.” Even John Adams became roused. Two years after, he wrote, in reference to the cool treatment which his son, John Quincy Adams, had received in England, “ I am glad of it ; for I would not have my son go as far as Mr. Jay, and affirm the friendly disposition of that country to this. I know better. I know their jealousy, envy, hatred, and revenge, covered under pretended contempt.” Jefferson’s slumbering energies were electrified : he subscribed for a newspaper’, wrote fiery letters, and by his conversational eloquence moved all who approached him. A new presidential election came on. John Adams was the Fed- eral candidate ; Thomas Jefferson, the Republican. It does not appear that Mr. Jefferson was at all solicitous of being elected. Indeed, he wrote to Mr. Madison, “ There is nothing I so anxiously hope as that my name may come out either second or third ; as the last would leave me at home the whole of the year, and the other two thirds of it.” Alluding to the possibility that “ the represen- tatives may be divided,” he makes the remarkable declaration, of the sincerity of which no one who knows the man can doubt, “ This is a difficulty from which the Constitution has provided no issue. It is both my duty and inclination, therefore, to relieve the embar- rassment, should it happen ; and, in that case, I pray you, and au- 9 130 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. thorize you fully, to solicit on my behalf that Mr. Adams may be preferred. He has always been my senior from the commencement of our public life ; and, the expression of the public will being equal, this circumstance ought to give him the preference.” As the result of the election, Mr. Adams became President ; and Mr. Jefferson, Vice-President. This rendered it necessary for him to leave Monticello for a few months each year to attend the ses- sions of Congress. His numerous letters to his children show how weary he had become of party strife, with what reluctance he left his home, with what joy he returned to it. His correspondence is full of such expressions as the following: “I ought oftener, my dear Martha, to receive your letters, for the very great pleasure they give me, and especially when they express your affection for me ; for though I cannot doubt, yet they are among those truths which, not doubted, we love to hear repeated. Here, too, they serve like gleams of light to cheer a dreary scene, where envy, hatred, malice, revenge, and all the worst passions of men are mai’shaled to make one another as miserable as possible. I turn from this with pleasure to contrast it with your fireside, where the single evening I passed at it was worth ages here.” Again he writes to Maria, from Philadelphia, on the 1st of Janu- ary, 1797, “ Without an object here which is not alien to me, and barren of every delight, I turn to your situation with pleasure, in the midst of a good family which loves you, and merits all your love.” It is a melancholy reflection that such enmities should have sprung up between men, and imbittered all their intercourse, who were alike true patriots, who were sincerely and earnestly seeking the good of their common country, and who only differed, and that conscientiously, respecting the best measures to be adopted for the national welfare. In June, 1800, Congress moved from Philadelphia to Washing- ton. The new seat of government, literally hewn out of the wilder- ness, was a dreary place. Though for twelve years workmen had been employed in that lonely, uninhabited, out-of-the-way spot, in putting up the public buildings, there was nothing as yet finished ; and vast piles of stone and brick and mortar were scattered at great distances from each other, with swamps or forests or sand-banks intervening. Transient huts were sprinkled about for the work- men. The Capitol was built on a large swell of land ; and a mile THOMAS JEFFERSON. 131 and a half from it was the unfinished “ President’s House,” with literally a mud-road between. No arrangements had been made for lodging or boarding the members of Congress. Mrs. John Adams, who had seen the residences of royalty in Europe, — Buckingham Palace, Versailles, and the Tuileries, — gives an amusing account of their entrance upon the splendors of the “White House.” In trying to find Washington from Balti- more, they got lost in the woods. After driving for some time, bewildered in forest paths, they chanced to come upon a black man, whom they hired to guide them through the forest. “ The house,” she writes, “ is upon a grand and superb scale, requiring about thirty servants to attend, and keep the apartments in proper order, and perform the necessary business of the house and stables. The lighting the apartments, from the kitchen to parlors and chambers, is a tax indeed ; and the fires we are obliged to keep, to secure us from daily agues, is another very cheering comfort. To assist us in this great castle, and render less attendance necessary, bells are wholly wanting, not a single one being hung through the whole house ; and promises are all you can obtain. This is so great an inconvenience, that I know not what to do or how to do. If they will put me up some bells, and let me have wood enough to keep fires, I design to be pleased. I could content myself almost any- where three months ; but, surrounded with forests, can you believe that wood is not to be had, because people cannot be found to cut and cart it ? ” The four years of Mr. Jefferson’s Vice-Presidency passed joy- lessly away, while the storm of partisan strife between Federalist and Republican was ever growing hotter. General Hamilton, who was a great power in those days, became as much alienated from Mr. Adams as from Mr. Jefferson. There was a split in the Fed- eral party. A new presidential election came on. Mr. Jefferson was chosen President ; and Aaron Burr, Vice-President. The news of the election of Jefferson was received in most parts of the Union with the liveliest demonstrations of joy. He was the leader of the successful and rapidly increasing party. His friends were found in every city and village in our land. They had been taught to believe that the triumph of the opposite party would be the triumph of aristocratic privilege and of civil and religious des- potism. On the other hand, many of the Federalists turned pale 132 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. when the tidings reached them that Thomas Jefferson was Presi- dent of the United States. Both the pulpit and the press had taught them that he was the incarnation of all evil, — an infidel, an atheist, a scoffer of all things sacred, a Jacobin, breathing threaten- ings and slaughter. There is no exaggeration in this statement, strong as it is. The following is an extract from Jefferson’s inaugural. Nobler words were never uttered by one assuming power. That he was sincere in the utterance, and that the measures of his administra- tion were in conformity with the principles here laid down, nearly every man will now admit. “ About to enter, fellow-citizens, on the exercise of duties which comprehend everything dear and valuable to you, it is proper that you should understand what I deem the essential principles of our government, and consequently those which ought to shape its ad- ministration. I will compress them within the narrowest compass they will bear, stating the general principle, but not all its lim- itations. “Equal and exact justice to all men, of whatever state or per- suasion, religious or political ; peace, commerce, and honest friend ship with all nations, entangling alliances with none ; the support of the state governments in all of their rights, as the most compe- tent administrations for our domestic concerns, and the surest bul warks against ante-republican tendencies ; the preservation of the general government in its whole constitutional vigor, as the sheet- anchor of our peace at home, and safety abroad; a jealous care of the right of election by the people, — a mild and safe corrective of abuses, which are topped by the sword of revolution where peace- able remedies are unprovided ; absolute acquiescence in the decis- ions of the majority, — the vital principle of republics, from which there is no appeal but to force, the vital principle and immediate parent of despotism ; a well-disciplined militia, — our best reliance in peace, and for the first moments of war, till regulars may re- lieve them ; the supremacy of the civil over the military authority ; economy in the public expense, that labor may be lightly burdened ; the honest payment of our debts, and sacred preservation of the public faith ; encouragement of agriculture, and of commerce as -its handmaid ; the diffusion of information, and the arraignment of all abuses at the bar of public reason ; freedom of religion ; free- THOMAS JEFFERSON. 133 dom of the press ; freedom of person, under the protection of the habeas corpus, and trial by juries impartially selected, — these prin- ciples form the bright constellation which has gone before us, and guided our steps through an age of revolution and reformation.” He closes with the following words : “ And may that Infinite Power which rules the destinies of the universe lead our councils to what is best, and give them a favorable issue for your peace and prosperity ! ” Jefferson was exceedingly simple in his taste, having a morbid dislike of all that court etiquette which had disgusted him so much in Europe. Washington rode to the halls of Congress in state, drawn by six cream-colored horses. For some unexplained reason, on the morning of his inauguration, Jefferson rode on horseback to the Capitol in a dress of plain cloth, without guard or servant, dis- mounted without assistance, and fastened the bridle of his horse to the fence. This certainly looks like the affectation of simplicity. It may be suggested, in excuse, that Mr. Jefferson had allowed his mind to become so thoroughly imbued with the conviction that our government was drifting towards monarchy and aristocracy, that he felt bound, in his official character, to set the example of extreme democratic simplicity. In this spirit he abolished levees, which, though he did not so in- tend it, was a movement in an aristocratic direction ; for the levee threw the presidential mansion open to the most humble of the peo- ple. By its abolition none could enter the White House but those who were specially invited. The invitations to dine were no longer given in the name of the “President of the United States,” as Wash- ington and Adams had given them, but in the name of “ Thomas Jefferson.” His views upon this subject may be inferred from the following remarks which he made upon the character of Washing- ton. After speaking of him in the highest terms of eulogy, as one of the greatest and best men this world has ever known, he writes, — “I do believe that General Washington had not a firm confidence in the durability of our government. He was naturally distrustful of men, and inclined to gloomy apprehensions ; and I was ever per- suaded that a belief that we must at length end in something like a British Constitution had some weight in his adoption of the ceremo- nies of levees, birthdays, pompous meetings with Congress, and other forms of the same character, calculated to prepare us gradually for a 184 LIVES OF TEE PRESIDENTS. change which he believed possible, and to let it come on with as little shock as might be to the public mind.” Mr. Jefferson and his eldest grandsorf were one day riding in a carriage together. They met a slave, who respectfully took off his hat, and bowed. The President, according to his invariable custom, returned the salutation by raising his hat. The young man paid no attention to the negro’s act of civility. Mr. Jefferson, after a few moments’ pause, turned a reproachful eye to him, and said, “ Thomas, do you permit a slave to be more of a gentleman than yourself ? ” On another occasion he was riding on horseback, accompanied by two young men, from Monticello to Charlottesville. They found Moore’s Creek so swollen by a sudden shower that the water was up to the saddle-girths. A man, with a saddle on his shoulders, was standing upon the bank. He looked at the young men as they rode through the stream, and said nothing ; but turning to Mr. Jefferson, he asked permission to mount the croup behind him to be carried across. The President reined his horse up to a stone, and carried the man across. The countryman then dismounted, and trudged along the dusty road. Soon a party in the rear, who had witnessed the operation, came up. One inquired, “ What made you let the young men pass, and ask the old gentleman to carry you over the creek ? ” The backwoodsman replied, in the broad patois of his re- gion, “ Wal, if you want to know, I ’ll tell you. I reckon a man car- ries ‘ Yes ’ or ‘ No ’ in his face. The young chaps’ faces said ‘ No ; ’ the old ’un’s, Yes.’ ” “ It is n’t every one,” the other replied, “ that would have asked the President of the United States for a ride be- hind him.” “ What,” said the man, “you don’t say that was Tom Jef- ferson, do you? ” Then, pausing a moment, he added, “Wal, he ’s a fine old fellow, any way. What will Polly say when I tell her I have rid behind Jefferson ? She ’ll say I voted for the right man.” The political principles of the Jeffersonian party now swept the country, and Mr. Jefferson swayed an influence which was never exceeded by Washington himself. Louisiana, under which name was then included the whole territory west of the Mississippi to the Pacific, was purchased of France, under his administration, in the year 1803, for fifteen millions of dollars. He was now smitten by another domestic grief. In the year 1804 his beautiful daughter Maria, whom he so tenderly loved, sank into the grave, leaving her THOMAS JEFFERSON. 135 babe behind her. His eldest daughter, Martha, says, speaking of her father’s suffering under this terrible grief, — “ I found him with the Bible in his hands. He who has been so often and so harshly accused of unbelief, — he, in his hour of intense affliction, sought and found consolation in the sacred volume. The comforter was there for his true heart and devout spirit, even though his faith might not be what the world calls orthodox.” Mr. Jefferson writes, in response to a letter of condolence from a friend, “ My loss is great indeed. Others may lose of , their abun- dance ; but I, of my want, have lost even the half of all I had. My evening prospects now hang on the slender thread of a single life. Perhaps I may be destined to see even this last chord of parental affection broken. The hope with which I had looked forward to the moment, when, resigning public cares to younger hands, I was to retire to that domestic comfort from which the last great step is to be taken, is fearfully blighted. “We have, however, the traveler’s consolation. Every step shortens the distance we have to go. The end of our journey is in sight, — the bed whereon we are to rest and to rise in the midst of the friends we have lost. 4 We sorrow not, then, as others who have no hope,’ but look forward to the day which joins us to the great majority. But, whatever is to be our destiny, wisdom as well as duty dictates that we should acquiesce in the will of Him whose it is to give and take away, and be content in the enjoyment of those who are still permitted to be with us.” Another presidential election came in 1804. Mr. Jefferson was reelected President with wonderful unanimity ; and George Clin- ton, Vice-President. Jefferson was sixty-two years of age, when, on the 4th of March, 1805, he entered upon his second term of of- fice. Our relations with England were daily becoming more com- plicated from the British demand of the right to stop any of our ships, whether belonging to either the commercial or naval marine, and to take from them any sailors whom they felt disposed to claim as British subjects. The United States frigate Chesapeake, of thirty -eight guns, was fired upon, on the 22d of June, 1807, by the British man-of-war Leopard, of fifty-six guns ; and after a loss of three men killed and ten wounded, including Commodore Barron, the Chesapeake, which was not in a condition to return a single shot, surrendered. Four men were then taken by the British officer 186 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. from the frigate, three of whom were Americans. This outrage, which occurred but a few leagues out from Hampton Roads, created intense excitement. The President dispatched a vessel to England to demand reparation for the insult ; while, at the same time, he issued a proclamation forbidding the waters of the United States to all British vessels of war unless in distress or bearing dispatches. Captain Douglass, who was at that time in command of a British squadron of three men-of-war at Norfolk, paid no attention to this proclamation, but wrote an insolent letter to the mayor, saying that the Americans could have peace or war, just as they desired. In a letter to Lafayette upon this subject, the President wrote, — “Never, since the battle of Lexington, have I seen this country in such a state of exasperation as at present ; and even that did not produce such unanimity. The Federalists themselves coalesce with us as to the object, although they will return to their old trade of condemning every step we take towards obtaining it.” The course England pursued rendei’ed it certain that war could not be avoided. Mr. Jefferson humanely did everything in his power to prevent the Indians from taking any part in it whatever. The British, on the contrary, were endeavoring to rouse them to deluge the frontiers in blood. England, who was engaged in the endeavor to crush Napoleon and reinstate the Bourbons, had re- solved, at whatever hazard of war with America, to replenish her navy by seizing any British-born subjects, wherever she could find them in the marine of the United States. Any young lieutenant, protected by the guns of a British man-of-war, would step on board any of our ships, and, claiming whoever he pleased as British sub- jects, would impress them to fight against France. In this way, according to the official returns, more than twelve hundred Amer- icans were dragged from our ships. Strange as it may now seem, the measures of government to redress these wrongs were viru- lently opposed. Notwithstanding the strength and influence of the opposition to Mr. Jefferson’s administration, he was sustained by the general voice of the nation. Amidst all these cares, the President manifested the most affec- tionate interest in the welfare of his family. On the 24th of No- vember, 1808, he wrote a letter to his grandson, who was absent from home at school, from which we make the following extracts, — “ Your situation at such a distance from us cannot but give us THOMAS JEFFERSON. 137 all great anxieties for you ; but thrown on a wide world, among entire strangers, without a friend or guardian to advise, so young too, and with so little experience of mankind, your dangers are great, and still your safety must rest on yourself. A determination never to do what is wrong, prudence, and good humor, will go far towards securing for you the estimation of the world. “ When I recollect that at fourteen years of age the whole care and direction of myself was thrown on myself entirely, without a relation or friend qualified to advise or guide me, and recollect the various sorts of bad company with which I associated from time to time, I am astonished that I did not turn off with some of them, and become as worthless to society as they were. I had the good fortune to become acquainted very early with some characters of very high standing, and to feel the incessant wish that I could ever become what they were. Under temptations and difficulties, I would ask myself, ‘What would Dr. Small, Mr. Wythe, Peyton Randolph, do in this situation ? What course in it will insure me their ap- probation ? ’ “From the circumstances of my position, I was often thrown into the society of horse-racers, card-players, fox-hunters, scientific and professional men, and of dignified men ; and many a time have I asked myself, in the enthusiastic moment of the death of a fox, the victory of a favorite horse, the issue of a question eloquently argued at the bar or in the great council of the nation, ‘Well, which of these kinds of reputation should I prefer, — that of a horse-jockey, a fox-hunter, an orator, or the honest advocate of my country’s rights ? ’ Be assured, my dear Jefferson, that these little returns into our- selves, this self-catechizing habit, is not trifling nor useless, but leads to the prudent selection and steady pursuit of what is right.” In the year 1808 Mr. Jefferson closed his second term of office, and James Madison succeeded him as President of the United States. In the following terms the retiring President expresses to a friend his feelings upon surrendering the cares of office : — “ Within a few days I retire to my family, my books, and farms ; and, having gained the harbor myself, I shall look on my friends, still buffeting the storm, with anxiety indeed, but not with envy. Never did a prisoner, released from his chains, feel such relief as I shall on shaking off the shackles of power. Nature intended me for the tranquil pursuits of science by rendering them my supreme 138 LIVES OF TEE PRESIDENTS. delight ; but the enormities of the times in which I have lived have forced me to take a part in resisting them, and to commit myself on the boisterous ocean of political passions. I thank God for the op- portunity of retiring from them without censure, and carrying with me the most consoling proofs of public approbation.” President Jefferson, after remaining in Washington to see his successor and bosom friend inaugurated, left for Monticello. Be- tween them, after Mr. Jefferson’s retirement, a Bee and confidential correspondence was kept up respecting the measures of government. Their intellectual traits were very similar, while their tastes and political principles were quite the same. Jefferson’s subsequent life at Monticello was very similar to that of Washington at Mount Vernon. A kinder master never lived. On no account would he allow his slaves to be overworked. His mornings he devoted to his numerous correspondence ; from breakfast to dinner he was in the shops and over the farms ; from dinner to dark he devoted to recre- ation and friends ; from dark to early bedtime he read. He was particularly interested in young men, advising them as to their course of reading. Several came, and took up their residence in the neighboring town of Charlottesville, that they might avail them- selves of his library, which was ever open for their use. From a series of untoward events, which we have not space here to record, Mr. Jefferson became deeply involved in debt, so that it was necessary for him to sell a large portion of his estate. S till, in the year 1809, lie owned about ten thousand acres of land, a valua- ble mansion, richly furnished, with a large and costly library. His vast plantation, cut up into several farms, was well stocked. His slaves numbered two hundred. The value of the whole property was about two hundred thousand dollars, His debts were then but about twenty thousand dollars. But it is to be remembered that this property was productive only so far as the land could be worked. Of the two hundred slaves, one hundred were either chil- dren too young, or the aged too infirm, to be of much service. Of the one hundred who remained, some were mechanics, and a large number were employed as house-servants. Mr. Jefferson was pro- fuse in his hospitality. Whole families came in their coaches with their horses, — fathers and mothers, boys and girls, babies and nurses, — and remained three or even six months. One family of six persons came from Europe, and made a visit of ten months. THOMAS JEFFERSON. 139 After a short tour they returned, and remained six months longer. Every day brought its contingent of guests. A gentleman who was often present says, — “ People of wealth, fashion, men in office, professional men, mil- itary and civil, lawyers, doctors, Protestant clergymen, Catholic priests, members of Congress, foreign ministers, missionaries, Indian agents, tourists, travelers, artists, strangers, friends, came, some from affection and respect, some from curiosity, some to give or receive advice or instruction, and some from idleness. Life at Mon- ticello, for years, resembled that at a fashionable watering-place. Mr. Jefferson always made his appearance at the breakfast-table : his guests were then left to amuse themselves as they pleased until dinner-time. They walked, talked, read, made excursions with the ladies, or hunted in the woods : some sought the retirement of the splendid library; others, the social enjoyments of the drawing-room; while others retired to the quiet of their own chambers, or to a sol- itary stroll down the mountain-side.” Such hospitality would speedily consume a larger fortune than Mr. Jefferson possessed. He had a favorite servant, Wormley, who, with the utmost fidelity, watched over the interests of his master. Mr. Jefferson had three carriage-houses, each of which would hold a four-horse coach. These carriage-houses were for the accommoda- tion of his friends, who came with their loaded coaches, drawn by four horses, to visit him. Some time after Mr. Jefferson’s death a gentleman at Monticello asked Wormley how often those carriage- houses were all filled in Mr. Jefferson’s time. He replied, “Every night, sir, in summer; and we commonly had two or three carriages besides under that tree,” pointing to a large tree in the vicinity. “ It must have taken,” the gentleman added, “ all hands to have taken care of your visitors.” “ Yes,” the faithful old slave replied, “ and the whole farm to feed them.” Mr. Jefferson’s daughter, Mrs. Randolph, was the presiding lady of this immense establishment. The domestic service required thirty-seven house-servants. Mrs. Randolph, upon being asked, what was the greatest number of guests she had ever entertained any one night, replied, “ she believed fifty.” In the winter Mr. Jefferson had some little repose from the crowd of visitors. He then enjoyed, in the highest possible degree, all that is endearing in domestic life. It is impossible to describe 140 LIVES OF TEE PRESIDENTS. the love with which he was cherished by his grandchildren. One of them writes, in a letter overflowing with the gushing of a loving heart, “ My Bible came from him, my Shakespeare, my first writing- table, my first handsome writing-desk, my first Leghorn hat, my first silk dress : what, in short, of all my treasures did not come from him? My sisters, according to their wants and tastes, were equally thought of, equally provided for. Our grandfather seemed to read our hearts, to see our individual wishes, to be our good gen- ius, to wave the fairy wand to brighten our young lives by his good- ness and his gifts.” Another writes, “ I cannot describe the feelings of veneration, admiration, and love, that existed in my heart towards him. I looked on him as a being too great and good for my comprehension ; and yet I felt no fear to approach him, and be taught by him some of the childish sports I delighted in. Not one of us, in our wildest moods, ever placed a foot on one of the garden-beds, for that would violate one of his rules ; and yet I never heard him utter a harsh word to one of us, or speak in a raised tone of voice, or use a threat.” In 1812 a perfect reconciliation took place between Mr. Adams and Mr. Jefferson ; the latter very handsomely and magnanimously making the first advances. This friendship, which was kept up by a constant interchange of letters, continued unabated until their death, — on the same day, and almost at the same hour. After Mr. Jefferson had passed his threescore years and ten, he wrote to Mr. Adams in the following philosophic strain, which, as usual, leaves us in the dark in reference to his religious faith : — “ You ask if I would live my seventy, or rather seventy-three, years over again. To which I say, ‘ Yea.’ I think, with you, that it is a good world, on the whole : that it has been framed on a prin- ciple of benevolence ; and that more pleasure than pain is dealt out to us. “ There is a ripeness of time for death, regarding others as well as ourselves, when it is reasonable we should drop off, and make room for another growth. When we have lived our generation out, we should not wish to encroach on another. I enjoy good health ; I am happy in what is around me : yet I assure you I am ripe to leave all this day, this year, this hour.” Yn a letter to Mr. Adams, dated January, 1817, we find the remark, “ Perhaps, however, one THOMAS JEFFERSON. 141 of the elements of future felicity is to be a constant and unimpas- sioned view of what is passing here.” In the same letter, he says, that, in reply to the question of one respecting his religious faith, he answered, “Say nothing of my religion : it is known to my God and myself alone.” Mr. Jefferson was ever ready to express his views frankly upon all subjects of science, philosophy, and politics. It is certainly re- markable that such a man was not willing to express his views upon a subject more important than all others, — the eternal well-being of man. Again, he writes to Mr. John Adams in a strain which throws interesting light upon his occupation at that time, “ Forty- three volumes read in one year, and twelve of them quarto. Dear sir, how I envy you ! Half a dozen of octavos in that space of time are as much as I am allowed. I can read by candle-light only, and stealing long hours from my rest. From sunrise to one or two o’clock, and often from dinner to dark, I am drudging at the writ- ing-table : and all this to answer letters in which neither interest nor inclination on my part enters, and often from persons whose names I have never before heard ; yet, writing civilly, it is hard to refuse them civil answers.” He had the curiosity to count the let- ters received for one year, — a fair average ; and they amounted to one thousand two hundred and sixty-seven. At his death he had copies of sixteen thousand letters which he had written ; and he had twenty-five thousand letters on file which he had received. In November, 1818, Mrs. John Adams died ; and President Jef- ferson wrote the following beautiful letter of condolence to her hus- band : — “ The public papers, my dear friend, announce the fatal event of which your letter of October the 20th had given me ominous fore- boding. Tried myself in the school of affliction by the loss of every form of connection which can rive the human heart, I know well and feel what you have lost, what you have suffered, are suffering, and have yet to endure. The same trials have taught me, that, for ills so immeasurable, time and silence are the only medicine. I will not, therefore, by useless condolences, open afresh the sluices of your grief; nor, although mingling sincerely my tears with yours, will I say a word more, where words are vain, but that it is some comfort to us both that the term is not very distant at which we are to deposit in the same cerement our sorrows and suffering bodies, and 142 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. . to ascend in essence to an ecstatic meeting with the friends we have loved and lost, and whom we shall still love, and never lose again. God bless you, and support you under your heavy affliction ! ” In a letter dated March 21, 1819, he writes to Dr. Vine Utley, “ I never go to bed without an hour or half an hour’s previous read- ing of something moral whereon to ruminate in the intervals of sleep.” The book from which he oftenest read was a collection which he had made by cutting such passages from the evangelists as came directly from the lips of the Saviour. These he arranged in a blank-book. Jefferson writes to a friend, “A more beautiful or precious morsel of ethics I have never seen : it is a document in proof that I am a real Christian ; that is to say, a disciple of the doctrines of Jesus.” This book Mr. Jefferson prepared evidently with great care. It is a very full compend of the teachings of our Saviour. It was entitled “ The Philosophy of Jesus of Nazareth.” He also prepared a second volume, which he had bound in morocco, in a handsome octavo volume, and which he labeled on the back, “ Morals of Jesus.” It is a little remarkable that Mr. Jefferson should have made these collections so secretly that none of the members of his family knew even of the existence of the books until after his death. One would have supposed that he would have con- sidered these teachings valuable for his children and his grandchil- dren as well as for himself. Indeed, we are informed that he con- ferred with some friends upon the expediency of printing them in several Indian dialects for the instruction of the Indians. He devoted much attention to the establishment of the university at Charlottesville. Having no religious faith which he was willing to avow, he was not willing that any religious faith whatever should be taught in the university as a part of its course of instruction. This establishment, in a Christian land, of an institution for the education of youth, where the relation existing between man and his Maker was entirely ignored, raised a general cry of disapproval throughout the whole country. It left a stigma upon the reputation of Mr. Jefferson in the minds of Christian people, which can never be effaced. He endeavored to abate the censure by suggesting that the various denominations of Christians might establish schools, if they wished, in the vicinity of the university ; and the students, if they wished, could attend their religious instructions. The year 1826 opened gloomily upon Mr. Jefferson. He was very THOMAS JEFFERSON. 143 infirm, and embarrassed by debts, from which he could see but little hope of extrication. The indorsement for a friend had placed upon him an additional twenty thousand dollars of debt. To be old and poor is one of the greatest of earthly calamities. He applied to the Legislature for permission to dispose of a large portion of his prop- erty by lottery, hoping thus to realize a sum sufficient to pay his debts, and to leave enough to give him a competence for his few re- maining days. Though bitterly opposed to all gambling, he argued, in support of his petition, that lotteries were not immoral. The university at Charlottesville, which was regarded almost exclusively as Mr. Jefferson’s institution, had cost vastly more than had been anticipated. The members of the Legislature had become weary of making grants ; and, just as Mr. Jefferson sent in his petition for a lottery, they had, by a very decisive vote, refused an application for an additional grant of money for the university. Mortified and sad- dened, and anxious for the future, he wrote to a friend, that, if the Legislature would grant him the indulgence he solicited, — “ I can save the house of Monticello and a farm adjoining to end my days in, and bury my bones ; if not, I must sell house and all here, and carry my family to Bedford, where I have not even a log hut to put my head into.” At the same time he wrote to his eldest grandson in a strain of dignity and of sorrow which no one can read but with sympathy. The letter was dated February 8, 1826. “ I duly received your affec- tionate letter of the 3d, and perceive there are greater doubts than I had apprehended whether the Legislature will indulge my request to them. It is a part of my mortification to perceive that I had so far overvalued myself as to have counted on it with too much con- fidence. I see, in the failure of this hope, a deadly blast of all my peace of mind during my remaining days. You kindly encourage me to keep up my spirits ; but, oppressed with disease, debility, age, and embarrassed affairs, this is difficult. For myself, I should not regard a prostration of fortune ; but I am overwhelmed at the pros- pect in which I leave my family. My dear and beloved daughter, the cherished companion of my early life, and nurse of my age, and her children, rendered as dear to me as if my own, from their hav- ing lived with me from their cradle, left in a comfortless situation, hold up to me nothing but future gloom ; and I should not care if life were to end with the line I am writing, were it not that, in the 144 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. unhappy state of mind which your father’s misfortunes have brought upon him, I may yet be of some avail to the family.” To Mr. Jefferson’s great gratification, the lottery bill passed. But, all over the country, friends, who appreciated the priceless value of the services which he had rendered our nation, began to send to him tokens of their love. The mayor of New York, Philip Hone, sent him, collected from a few friends, eight thousand five hundred dollars ; from Philadelphia, five thousand dollars were sent ; from Baltimore, three thousand dollars ; and one or two thousand more were sent from other sources. These testimonials, like sun- shine breaking through the clouds, dispelled the gloom which had been so deeply gathering around his declining day. Very rapidly he was now sinking. His steps became so feeble that with difficulty he could totter about the house. His very eloquent and truthful biographer, Henry S. Randall, says that the Bible was one of the principal books, which, with the Greek philosophers, occupied his last reading. “ The majesty of iEschy- lus, the ripe art of Sophocles, the exhaustless invention of Euripi- des, now came back to him in more than their pristine grandeur and beauty ; and in the BiSle he found flights of sublimity more magnificent than in these, coupled with a philosophy to which the Grecian was imperfect, narrow, and base. No sentiment did he ex- press oftener than his contempt for all moral systems compared with that of Christ.” There was something peculiarly gentle and touching in his whole demeanor. His good-night kiss, his loving embrace, his childlike simplicity and tenderness, often brought tears to the eyes of those whose privilege it was to minister to his wants. It was evident that he was conscious that the hour of his departure was at hand. He was exceedingly careful to avoid making any trouble, and was far more watchful for the comfort of those around him than for his own. His passage was very slow down into the vale of death. To one who expressed the opinion that he seemed a little better, he replied, — “ Do not imagine for a moment that I feel the smallest solicitude about the result. I am like an old watch, with a pinion worn out here and a wheel there, until it can go no longer.” He manifested no desire to depart, no cheerful hope of the future, and no dread. Looking up to the doctor, he said calmly, “ A few THOMAS JEFFERSON. 145 hours more, and it will all be over.” Hearing the name of the minister of the Episcopal Church which he attended, who had called, he said, “I have no objection to see him as a kind and good neighbor.” His friends inferred from this that he did not wish to see him as a minister of Jesus Christ. Very truly and charitably he said, in refei’ence to the anathemas which had been hurled upon him, that his enemies had never known him ; that they had created an imaginary being, whom they had clothed with imaginary attributes, and to whom they had given his name ; and that it was this creature of their imagination whom they had so virulently assailed. On Monday evening, the 3d of July, he awoke about ten o’clock from troubled sleep, and, thinking it morning, remarked, “ This is the 4th of July.” Immediately he sank away again into slumber. As the night passed slowly away, all saw that he was sinking in death. There was silence in the death-chamber. The mysterious separation of the soul from the body was painlessly taking place. At ten minutes before one o’clock, at noon, of July 4, 1826, the last breath left the body. It was a day of darkness and rain when the remains were borne to their burial. The Rev. Mr. Hatch, the clergyman of the parish, whom Mr. Jefferson highly esteemed, read the burial service of the Episcopal Church. In conclusion, let me give an abstract of a sketch of his character, as given by his grandson, Thomas Jefferson Randolph, who was the companion of his life, and who was thirty-four years of age when Mr. Jefferson died. He writes, — “ My mother was his eldest, and, for the last twenty years of his life, his only child. She lived with him from her birth to his death. I was more intimate with him than with any man I have ever known. His character invited such intimacy. Soft and feminine in his affections to his family, he entered into and sympathized with all their feelings, winning them to paths of virture by the soothing gentleness of his manner. While he lived, and since, I have reviewed with severe scrutiny those interviews ; and I must say, that I never heard from him the expression of one thought, feeling, or sentiment, inconsistent with the highest moral standard, or the purest Christian charity in the largest sense. His moral character was of the highest order, founded upon the purest and sternest models of antiquity, softened, chastened, and developed 10 146 lives of the presidents. by the influence of the all-pervading benevolence of the doctrines of Christ, which he had intensely and admiringly studied. “ In his contemplative moments, his mind turned to religion, which he studied thoroughly. He had seen and read much of the abuses and perversions of Christianity : he abhorred those abuses and their authors, and denounced them without reserve. He was regular in his attendance on church, taking his prayer-book with him. He drew the plan of the Episcopal Church at Charlottesville, was one of the largest contributors to its erection, and contributed regularly to the support of its minister. I paid, after his death, his subscription of two hundred dollars to the erection of the Pres- byterian church in the same village. A gentleman of some distinc- tion calling upon him, and expressing his disbelief in the truths of the Bible, his reply was, ‘ Then, sir, you have studied it to little purpose.’ “ He was guilty of no profanity himself, and did not tolerate it in others. He detested impiety ; and his favorite quotation for his young friends, as the basis of their morals, was the fifteenth Psalm of David. He did not permit cards in his house : he knew no game with them. His family, by whom he was surrounded, and who saw him in all the unguarded privacy of private life, believed him to be the purest of men. The beauty of his character was exhibited in the bosom of his family, where he delighted to indulge in all the fervor and delicacy of feminine feeling. Before he lost his taste for the violin, in winter evenings he would play on it, having his grandchildren dancing around him. In summer, he would station them for their little races on the lawn, give the signal for the start, be the arbiter of the contest, and award the prizes. “ In his person he was neat in the extreme. In early life, his dress, equipage, and appointments were fastidiously appropriate to his rank. When at Paris, Philadelphia, and Washington, his furni- ture, table, servants, equipage, and the tout ensemble of his establish- ment, Avere deemed highly appropiate to the position he held. He was a gentleman everywhere. His habits were regular and system- atic. He rose always at dawn. He said in his last illness that the sun had not caught him in bed for fifty years. He never drank ardent spirits or strong wines. Such was his aversion to ardent spirits, that when, in his last illness, his physician wished him to THOMAS JEFFERSON. 147 use brandy as an astringent, he could not induce him to take it strong enough.” After Mr. Jefferson’s death the lottery plan was abandoned. The lands were sold ; and after the disposal of the whole property, the proceeds not being sufficient to pay the debts, the executor met the balance from his own purse. As soon as it was known that his only child was thus left without any independent provision, the legislatures of South Carolina and Louisiana generously voted her ten thousand dollars each. As time dispels the mists of prejudice, the fame of Thomas Jef- ferson will shine with ever-increasing lustre ; and he must, in all the future, occupy one of the most conspicuous niches in the tem- ple of American worthies. CHAPTER IV. which the foundations of this great republic were laid. The Madi- son family were among the earliest emigrants to this New World, MONTPELIER, — RESIDENCE Ol' JAMES MADISON. JAMES MADISON. Childhood. — College Life. — Studious Habits. — Enters Public Life. — Mental Characteristics — Aid in framing the Constitution. — In Congress. — Marriage. — Mrs. Madison. — Alien and Sedition Laws. — Secretary of State. — The White House. — Life in Washington. — Friendship with Jefferson. — Abrogation of Titles. — Anecdote. — Chosen President. — Right of Search. — War with England. — Reelected. — Treaty of Ghent. — Arrival of the News. — Retirement to Montpelier. — Old Age and Death. The name of James Madison is inseparably connected with most of the important events in that heroic period of our country during JAMES MADISON. 149 landing upon the shores of the Chesapeake but fifteen years after the settlement at Jamestown. The father of James Madison was an opulent planter, residing upon a very fine estate called “Montpelier,” in Orange Connty, Va. The mansion was situated in the midst of scenery highly picturesque and romantic, on the west side of Southwest Mountain, at the foot of the Blue Ridge. It was but twenty-five miles from the home of Jefferson at Monticello. The closest personal and po- litical attachment existed between these illustrious men, from their early youth until death. James Madison was born on the 5tli of March, 1751. He was blessed with excellent parents ; both father and mother being per- sons of intelligence and of great moral worth. The best society of Virginia often visited at their hospitable mansion ; and thus, from early life, Mr. Madison was accustomed to those refinements which subsequently lent such a charm to his character. His sobriety and dignity of demeanor were such, that it has been said of him that “ he never was a boy.” James was the eldest of a family of seven children, — four sons and three daughters, — all of whom attained maturity, and passed through life esteemed and beloved. His early education was con- ducted mostly at home, under a private tutor. He was naturally intellectual in his tastes, and, with but little fondness for rough, out-of-door sports, consecrated himself with unusual vigor to study. Even when a boy, he had made very considerable proficiency in the Greek, Latin, French, and Spanish languages. In the year 1769, at the age of eighteen, he was sent to Princeton College in New Jersey, of which the illustrious Dr. Witherspoon was then presi- dent. Here he applied himself to study with the most imprudent zeal, allowing himself, for months, but three hours’ sleep out of the twenty-four. His health thus became so seriously impaired that he never recovered any vigor of constitution. He graduated in 1771, at the age of twenty, with a feeble body, with a character of the utmost purity, and with a mind highly disciplined, and richly stored with all the learning which embellished and gave efficiency to his subsequent career. Returning to Virginia, he commenced the study of law, and a course of extensive and systematic reading. This educational course, the spirit of the times in which he lived, and the society with which 150 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. he associated, all combined to inspire him with a strong love of lib- erty, and to train him for his life-work of a statesman. Being nat- urally of a religious turn of mind, and his frail health leading him to think that his life was not to be long, he directed especial atten- tion to theological studies. Endowed with a mind singularly free from passion and prejudice, and with almost unequaled powers of reasoning, he weighed all the arguments for and against revealed re- ligion, until his faith became so established as never to be shaken. The Church of England was then the established church in Vir- ginia, invested with all the prerogatives and immunities which it enjoyed in the father-land. All were alike taxed to support its clergy. There was no religious liberty. Mr. Madison first appears before the public, associated with Mr. Jefferson, as the opponent of this intolerance. The battle was a fierce one. The foes of intoler- ance were denounced as the enemies of Christianity ; but liberty triumphed, and religious freedom was established in Virginia. In the spring of 1776, when twenty-six years of age, he was elected member of the Virginia Convention to frame the Constitu- tion of the State. Being one of the youngest members of the house, naturally diffident, and having no ambitious aspirings to push him forward, he took but little part in the public debates. Like Jeffer- son, his main strength lay in his conversational influence and in his pen. Real ability and worth cannot long be concealed. Every day, almost unconsciously to himself, he was gaining influence and position. The next year, 1777, he was a candidate for the General Assembly. He refused to treat the whisky-loving voters, and con- sequently lost his election ; but those who had witnessed the tal- ents, energy, and public spirit of the modest young man, enlisted themselves in his behalf, and he was appointed a member of the Executive Council. Both Patrick Henry and Thomas Jefferson were governors of Virginia while Mr. Madison remained member of the council ; and their appreciation of his intellectual, social, and moral worth, con- tributed not a little to his subsequent eminence. In the year 1780 he was elected a member of the Continental Congress. Here he met the most illustrious men in our land, and he was immediately assigned to one of the most conspicuous positions among them. Mr. Jefferson says of him, in allusion to the study and experience through which he had already passed, — JAMES MADISON. I5i “ Trained in these successive schools, he acquired a habit of self- possession which placed at ready command the rich resources of his luminous and discriminating mind and of his extensive information, and rendered him the first of every assembly afterwards of which he became a member. Never wandering from his subject into vain declamation, but pursuing it closely in language pure, classical, and copious ; soothing always the feelings of his adversaries by civili- ties and softness of expression, — he rose to the eminent station which he held in the great National Convention of 1787 ; and in that of Virginia, which followed, he sustained the new Constitution in all its parts, bearing off the palm against the logic of George Mason and the fervid declamation of Patrick Henry. With these consummate powers were united a pure and spotless virtue, which no calumny has ever attempted to sully. Of the power and polish of his pen, and of the wisdom of his administration in the highest office of the nation, I need say nothing. They have spoken, and will forever speak, for themselves.” Every Amei'ican citizen must reflect with pride upon the fact that he can point to a series of rulers over these United States such as no other nation on earth can boast of. Let any intelligent reader glance at the catalogue of kings of England, France, Spain, - — rulers who have attained the supreme power by hereditary de- scent, — and compare them with the presidents which the elective franchise has given to this country, and even prejudice the most unbending will be compelled to admit that popular choice is far more unerring in the selection of rulers than the chances of birth. Every monarchy in Europe has had upon the throne men as worth- less as earth has ever seen. America has not had a single President who has not been a man of moral and social excellence, who was not in heart a true patriot, and who did not honestly, though per- haps at times with mistaken policy, seek the promotion of the best interests of his country. For three years Mr. Madison continued in Congress, one of its most active and influential members. In the year 1784, his term having expired, he was elected a member of the Virginia Legisla- ture. Here he was the earnest supporter of every wise and liberal measure. He advocated the revision of the old statutes, the abro- gation of entail and primogeniture, and the establishment of perfect religious freedom. His “ Memorial and Remonstrance ” against a 152 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. general assessment for the support of religion is considered one of the ablest papers which emanated from his pen. It settled the question of the entire separation of church and state in Virginia. He still continued, in the midst of all these responsibilities, to prosecute with much energy his legal and literary studies. It was never his wish to enter upon the practice of the law ; and, in a let- ter to Mr. Randolph in 1785, he says, “ Another of my wishes is, to depend as little as possible on the labor of slaves.” The follow- ing extract from a letter of Mr. Jefferson, from Annapolis, to Mr. Madison, under date of February 20, 1794, gives a pleasing picture of the friendship then and ever existing between Jefferson, Madi- son, and Monroe : — “ I hope you have found access to my library. I beg you to make free use of it. The steward is living there now, and, of course, will always be in the way. Monroe is buying land almost adjoining me : Short will do the same. What would I not give could you fall into the circle ! With such a society, I could once more venture home, and lay myself up for the residue of life, quit- ting all its contentions, which grow daily more and more insup- portable. “ Think of it. To render it practicable, only requires you to think it so. Life is of no value but as it brings us gratifications. Among the most valuable of these is rational society. It informs the mind, sweetens the temper, cheers our spirits, and restores health. There is a little farm of one hundred and forty acres ad- joining me, and within two miles, all of good land, though old, with a small, indifferent house upon it ; the whole worth not more than two hundred and fifty pounds. Such a one might be a farm of ex- periment, and support a little table and household. Once more, think of it, and adieu.” There was a vein of pleasantry pervading the character of Mr. Madison, which ever rendered him to his friends one of the most agreeable of companions. No man felt more deeply than Mr. Madi- son the utter inefficiency of the old confederacy, with no national government, with no power to form treaties which would be bind- ing or to enforce law. There was not any State more prominent than Virginia in the declaration that an efficient national govern- ment must be formed. In January, 1786, Mr. Madison cai’ried a resolution through the General Assembly of Virginia, inviting the JAMES MADISON. 153 other States to appoint commissioners to meet in convention at An- napolis to discuss this subject. Five States only were represented. The convention, however, issued another call, drawn up by Mr. Madison, urging all the States to send their delegates to Philadel- phia, in May, 1787, to draft a Constitution for the United States, to take the place of that confederate league which the sagacity of John Adams had foretold must prove a failure. The delegates met at the time appointed. Every State but Rhode Island was represented. George Washington was chosen president of the convention ; and the present Constitution of the United States was then and there formed. When Charles X. was driven from France, and Louis Philippe was invited to take the throne, Lafayette took his hand as they stood upon a balcony of the Hotel de Ville in Paris, while swarming thousands were gathered around, and said, — “ You know that I am a republican, and that I regard the Con- stitution of the United States as the most perfect that has ever ex- isted.” “ I think as you do,” replied Louis Philippe. “ It is impossible to pass two years in the United States, as I have done, and not be of that opinion. But do you think that, in the present state of France, a republican government can be sustained here ? ” “No,” said Lafayette; “that which is necessary for France is a throne, surrounded by republican institutions : all must be repub- lican.” When we consider the speakers and the occasion, we must re- gard this as the highest compliment ever paid to the Constitution of the United States ; and our nation owes a debt of gratitude which can never be paid, not only to the founders of this Constitution, but also to those heroic soldiers of our land, who on the field of battle, and with their blood, have defended it when treason would have trampled it in the dust. There was, perhaps, no mind and no pen more active in framing this immortal document than the mind and the pen of James Mad- ison. Mr. Jefferson pays the following beautiful tribute to his character and ability : — “ I have known him from 1779, when he first came into the pub- lic councils , and, after three and thirty years’ trial, I can say con- scientiously, that I do not know in the world a man of purer in- 154 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. tegrity, more dispassionate, disinterested, and devoted to genuine republicanism ; nor could I, in the whole scope of America and Europe, point out an abler head.” There were two parties to be reconciled in forming the Constitu- tion. The Federal party were in favor of making the central gov- ernment strong, investing it with such powers that we should be a compact and united nation ; while they still would give the state governments full authority in all local matters. The Republican party would make the state governments strong, reserving for them all rights excepting those which it was absolutely necessary to sur- render to the central power at Washington. The Constitution, as formed, was a very harmonious blending of these two apparently antagonistic principles. Neither party was fully satisfied with the results. The Federalists would have given the central government more power : the Republicans would have given the state govern- ments more power. And, from that time to this, that point has been prominent in the conflict of parties. Washington and John Adams strongly inclined to the Federal side ; Jefferson, to the Republican side. “ Mr. Madison,” writes George Washington, “ thinks an individual independence of the States utterly irreconcilable with their aggregate sovereignty, and that a consolidation of the whole into one simple republic would be as inexpedient as it is unattainable. He therefore proposes a mid- dle ground, which may at once support a due supremacy of the na- tional authority, and not exclude the local authorities whenever they can be subordinately useful.” During the discussion of these great questions, the views of the Federal party were urged in a series of letters, which then attained the celebrity which they have ever since held. These letters were signed The Federalist. General Hamilton was the principal writer, though several papers were furnished by Mr. Madison and Mr. Jay. Some were in favor of electing the President and the members of the Senate for life, or during good behavior, as with our judges. Others wished that the President might be reelected every four years, like a Polish king; and that he might thus, should the people choose, by continual reelections, become a life-long ruler. Others urged that he should serve but one term, and be forever after ineli- gible. It has become a matter of custom only, that no President shall continue in office more than two terms. In the convention, JAMES MADISON. 155 Mr. Madison and General Washington almost invariably coincided in opinion. At length the Constitution was formed, and was adopted by a vote of eighty-nine to seventy-nine. It was then to be presented to the several States for acceptance. Very great solici- tude was felt. Should it be rejected we should be left but a con- glomeration of independent States, with but little power at home, and little respect abroad. Mr. Madison was selected by the conven- tion to draw up an address to the people of the United States, ex- pounding the principles of the Constitution and urging its adoption. In every State there was a battle between the friends and the foes of the new Constitution ; but at length it triumphed over all opposition, and went into effect in 1789. In Virginia it encoun- tered very formidable hostility ; but Mr. Madison’s brilliant states- manship and persuasive powers secured its unconditional ratifica- tion, notwithstanding it was opposed by the brilliant rhetoric of Patrick Henry and the stern logic of George Mason. He was soon after elected a member of the House of Representatives in the First Congress, which then met in the old City Hall in New York, at the corner of Wall and Nassau streets. Here he found himself drifting to the side of the Republican party in nearly all its measures ; and yet so courteous was he in his manners, so conciliatory in tone, and so undeniably conscientious in his convictions, that he retained the affection and confidence of his former friends. Upon Mr. Jefferson’s return from France, President Washington earnestly solicited Mr. Madison to accept that mission ; but he firmly declined the appointment, and also the office of Secretary of State, which was urged upon him. He had gradually become so identified with the Republican party in his principles, that he felt that he could not harmoniously cooperate with the majority of Washington’s Cabinet. In 1772 Mr. Madison was the avowed leader of the Republican party in Congress. He sympathized with Mr. Jefferson in his foreign policy, gratefully cherishing the re- membrance of French intervention in our behalf, and advocating with all his powers of voice and pen a retaliatory policy towards the conduct of Great Britain. When President Washington was about to retire from his second term of office in 1797, it was the wish of many that Mr. Madison should be the candidate of the Republican party. Mr. Jefferson wrote, — 156 LIVES OF TEE PRESIDENTS. “There is not another person in the United States, with whom, being placed at the helm of our affairs, my mind would be so com- pletely at rest for the fortune of our political bark.” But Mr. Madison would not consent. His term in Congress had now expired, and he returned from New York to his beautiful retreat at Montpelier. While in Congress, he had met, in the gay society of New York, a young widow of remarkable powers of fascination, — Mrs. Todd. Her maiden name was Dolly Paine. She was born in North Carolina, of Quaker parents, and had been educated in the strictest rules of that sect. When but eighteen years of age she mar- ried a young lawyer, and moved to Philadelphia, where she was intro- duced to brilliant scenes of fashionable life. She speedily laid aside the dress and the address of the Quakeress, and became one of the most fascinating ladies who has embellished our republican court. In New York, after the death of her husband, she was the belle of the season, and was surrounded with admirers. Mr. Madison won the prize. They were married in 1794. He was then forty -three years of age. He had previously met with a serious disappointment in his affec- tions. Some years before, in Philadelphia, he had become ardently attached to Miss Floyd, of New York, the accomplished daughter of one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence. For some unexplained reason, the attachment, which seemed to be mutual, was broken off, to the great grief of Mr. Madison. The companion whom Mr. Madison had secured at this late hour of life proved invaluable. She was, in person and character, queenly. As graceful as Josephine, with a heart overflowing with kindness, endowed with wonderful powers of conversation, persuasion, and entertainment, and with a face whose frankness and winning smiles at sight won all hearts, she contributed greatly to the popularity and power of her husband in the elevated sphere through which he afterwards moved. As, in the case of Napoleon, all who wished for special favors felt safe if they could secure the advocacy of Josephine ; so it was found, that, through Mrs. Madison, one could ever obtain the readiest ac- cess to the heart of her distinguished husband. She was a true and sympathizing friend of all who were in sorrow. Mr. Catlin, the renowned delineator of Indian life, when a young man, just after his marriage, was in Virginia, in the vicinity of Mr. Madison’s JAMES MADISON. 157 home, endeavoring to earn a living by. painting portraits. He was poor, a stranger, in a cheerless inn, and his young wife was taken sick with the intermittent fever. Their situation was desolate in- deed. But soon a lady of wonderfully prepossessing appearance and manners entered the chamber, apologized gracefully for the intrusion, introduced herself as Mrs. Madison, and, taking off bon- net and shawl, sat down by the bedside of the sick one, cheered her with words of hope, administered the medicines, and from that hour, with a sister’s tenderness, watched over her, and supplied her with comforts and luxuries, until she was quite recovered. In Washington, she was the life of society. A group of the young were ever gathered around her. If there were any diffident, timid young girl just making her appearance, she was sure to find in Mrs. Madison a supporting and encouraging friend. Probably no lady has thus far occupied so prominent a position in the very peculiar society which has constituted our republican court as Mrs. Madison. At Montpelier, in this brief season of retirement from the cares of office, Mr. Madison was in the enjoyment of almost every blessing earth can confer. His opulence enabled him to indulge in un- bounded hospitality, and his celebrity drew to his mansion dis- tinguished guests from all lands. Mr. Madison, though a vein of pleasantry was intertwined with his nature, was naturally reserved and formal. Mrs. Madison was the charm and the life of every social circle in which she appeared. The happy and harmonious household was truly blessed by the presence of the widowed mothers of both Mr. and Mrs. Madison, and two orphan sisters of Mrs. Madison. Prosperity, love, distinction, all lent their charms to gild the scenes of this favored Virginian home. At the time when Mr. Madison retired from Congress, the con- dition of our country was very critical. The Jacobinical Directory in France, which Napoleon afterwards overthrew, was fast sunder- ing the ties of gratitude which bound us to that nation ; and Eng- land, proud mistress of the seas, despising our infant navy, was treating us with indignities which America would not now submit to for a single hour. The Federalists had far more dread of France than of England, and were inclined to combine with England to arrest the progress of the French Revolution. They called the Republicans Jacobins. Party spirit ran so bigh, that, in many 158 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. parts of the country, all social intercourse between Federalists and Republicans was broken up : even the children of the opposing parties were not allowed freely to associate with each other. The wildest tales were circulated through the country, that the French Jacobins were coining over to cooperate with the Republicans, and overthrow our government. It is scarcely possible for the people of the present day to realize the frenzy of that delirium. Under its influence, in the early days of Mr. John Adams’s ad- ministration, two acts were passed, called “ Alien and Sedition Laws.” By these laws the President was authorized, in case of war, made or threatened, to imprison, banish, or place under bonds, at his discretion, any natives or subjects of the hostile power not actually naturalized; and also it was decreed that any one who should unlawfully conspire to oppose any measure of the United States government should be punished, on legal conviction, by fine not exceeding five thousand dollars, or by imprisonment not exceed- ing five years. It was generally understood that these acts were aimed at the Republican party, who were in sympathy with that equality of rights which the French Revolution was struggling to introduce and who were opposing bitterly, and sometimes with measures of doubtful legality, the administration of our government. These laws were vehemently denounced. They contributed greatly to John Adams’s unpopularity. To add to the excitement, a bill was introduced into the Senate of the United States by Mr. Lloyd, of Maryland, which passed to a second reading by a vote of fourteen to eight, declaring the people of France to be enemies of the United States, and adherence to them, or giving them aid and comfort, punishable with death. Mr. Jefferson was so roused by these measures that he drew up some resolutions, the authorship of which was for many years kept secret, but which were adopted by the Legislature of Ken- tucky, so determined in their character that his enemies have charged him with advocating nullification and violent resistance. Mr. Madison, though repudiating everything like nullification, drew up resolutions, which were carried by a large majority through the Virginia Legislature, denouncing the acts with great severity. The legislatures of other States, however, warmly supported the acts as both constitutional and needful. Mr. Madison’s writings JAMES MADISON. 159 upon this subject are by all admitted to exhibit masterly vigor, and, in their advocacy of a “ strict construction ” of the Constitu- tion, they became the text-book of his party. But the storm passed away. The Alien and Sedition Laws were repealed. John Adams lost his reelection. Thomas Jefferson was chosen President in 1801, and the Republicans came into power. The new President immediately appointed his friend, Mr. Madison, Secretary of State. With great ability he discharged the duties of this onerous and responsible office during the whole eight years of Mr. Jefferson's administration. This summoned him from his happy home in Virginia to Washington. As Mr. Jefferson was a widower, and neither of his daughters could be often with him, Mrs. Madison usually presided over the festivities of the White House ; and as her husband succeeded Mr. Jefferson, holding his office for two terms, this very remarkable woman was, in reality, the mistress of the presidential mansion for sixteen years. The White House, our republican palace, was then a very shabby affair. The building, but half completed, stood in a pasture of old oaks, surrounded by rough masses of stone and piles of lumber, and other accumulations of unsightly materials. It was, indeed, solitary and alone, looking far more like an abandoned ruin than a rising palace. Far away in the distance stood the Capitol Hill, surrounded bv groves, forests, and wide-spreading plains, with a few houses or huts scattered here and there at most unsocial distances. The crowd which flocked to Washington from our widely extended and rapidly increasing country came with all their provincial peculiarities. It was a motley throng, But wonderful harmony pervaded Mr. Jef- ferson’s Cabinet. 41 We were,” he writes, “one family.” The stately forms of etiquette which were congenial to the tastes of Presidents Washington and Adams were now laid aside, and the simplicity of private life reigned in the presidential mansion. Mr. Madison being entirely engrossed by the cares of his office, all the duties of social life developed upon his accomplished wife. Never were such responsibilities more ably and delightfully dis- charged. Every visitor left her with the impression of having been the object of peculiar attention as an especial favorite. She never forgot a face or a name. The most bitter foes of her husband and of the administration were received with the frankly proffered hand 160 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. and the cordial smile of welcome. This was not policy merely : it was the resistless outflowing of lier own loving nature. Her house was plainly furnished ; her dress, though elegant, simple ; and the influence of this gentle woman, in allaying the bitterness of party rancor, became a great and salutary power in the nation. Mr. Madison’s correspondence, while Secretary of State, with for- eign ambassadors and our ministers at foreign courts, constitute a very important part of the history of President Jefferson’s adminis- tration. There is not any nation which can exhibit a more able series of state papers than came from his pen. It is the genius of our country to reject pompous titles : we have laid them aside with the powdered wigs and scarlet coats of other days. But no other land can exhibit a more brilliant catalogue of truly great men, — of Nature’s noblemen. Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Madison, and a host of others in the galaxy of American worthies, have a fame more durable than sculptured marble, or molten brass, or monumental granite. Theirs is a nobility not of hereditary descent, and mouldy parchments, and unearned laurels, but a nobility of heroic achievement, which shall be recognized through all the ages, and, like the untitled stars, shall shine forever. As the term of Mr. Jefferson’s Presidency drew near its close, party rancor was roused to the utmost in the strife to elect his suc- cessor. It was like a death-grapple between the two great parties, the Federal and the Republican. Mr. Madison was not an emotional man. He stood, like the peak of Teneriffe in a storm, undisturbed by the howl of the gale and the dash of the wave. Strong in hon- esty which he knew to be unimpeachable, he contemplated, in im- perturbable serenity, assaults of the press which would have driven many men frantic. Mrs. Madison, in accordance with her husband’s wishes, continued to exercise the rites of hospitality without regard to party politics. The chiefs of the different parties met in her par- lor, and all alike shared in the smiles and kindly greetings which made that parlor so attractive. The unintelligent are easily deceived by tinsel. Even in our land, where education was so generally diffused, the barbers of Washing- ton judged of the merits of great men by the length of their cues and the amount of powder on their hair. The morning after Mr. Madison was nominated for President, a barber in Washington, ad- dressing a senator whom he was shaving, said, — JAMES MADISON. 161 “Surely this country is doomed to disgrace and ruin. What Presidents we might have, sir ! Just look at Daggett of Connecti- cut, and Stockton of New Jersey ! What cues they have got, sir ! as big as your wrist, and powdered every day, like real gentlemen as they are. Such men would confer dignity on the station. But this little Jim Madison, with a cue no bigger than a pipestem, sir, — it is enough to make a man forswear his country ! ” Out of one hundred and seventy-five electoral votes, Mr. Madi- son received one hundred and twenty-two, and with this handsome majority took his seat as President on the 4th of March, 1809. The encroachments of England had brought us to the verge of war*. British orders in council destroyed our commerce, and our flag was exposed to constant insult. The British minister, Mr. Erskine, who was disposed to be conciliatory, was recalled, and a Mr. Jack- son, a man of insolent address, was sent to occupy his place. He became so unbearable that the Secretary of State was directed to hold no further communication with him, and the British govern- ment was requested to withdraw him. This was done ; but no one was sent in his place. Congress, in its extreme displeasure, passed a resolution declaring the official communications of Mr. Jackson as having been highly indecorous and insolent, approving the con- duct of the executive in requesting his recall, and passing an act of non-intercourse with both England and France, — with the latter power in consequence of the Berlin and Milan decrees. Napoleon immediately revoked those decrees, sending word to our govern- ment that they had not been issued out of any unfriendly feeling to us, but as a necessary measure of retaliation against the atrocious orders in council which England had issued. The act of non-intercourse now remained in full force against England alone. Mr. Madison was a man of peace. ' Scholarly in his tastes, retiring in his disposition, war had no charms for him. But the meekest spirit can be roused. It makes one’s blood boil, even now, to think of an American ship brought to, upon the ocean, by the guns of an English cruiser. A young lieutenant steps on board, and orders the crew to be paraded before him. With great nonchalance, he selects any number whom he may please to desig- nate as British subjects, orders them down the ship’s side into his boat, and places them on the gun-deck of his man-of-war, to fight, by compulsion, the battles of England. This right of search and li 162 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. impressment no efforts of our government could induce the British Cabinet to relinquish. There was a popular meeting held in the city of New York on the 26th of April, 1806, when the resolution was unanimously passed, “ That the suffering foreign armed ships to station them- selves off our harbor, and there to stop, search, and capture our vessels, to impress, wound, and murder our citizens, is a gross and criminal neglect of the highest duties of government ; and that an BRITISH RIGHT OF SEARCH. administration which patiently permits the same is not entitled to the confidence of a brave and free people.” Where resistance was attempted, the impressment was conducted with unsparing severity. The cudgel and the cutlass were freely used. Those who refused to submit were scourged, placed in irons, and scourged again on the raw wounds until they succumbed. It was proved by official records that more than a thousand American citizens were thus torn from home and friends, many of whom were compelled for years to man British guns, and were thus forced, JAMES MADISON. 163 when the war between the United States and England was opened, to fio-ht against their own flag. No government could be worthy of respect which would not at least attempt to protect its citizens from such outrages. The following case illustrates that of hundreds. Hiram Thayer was born in Greenwich, Conn. He was a young man of sobriety, industry, high moral worth, and was greatly endeared to his friends. He Avas impressed in 1803, with barbarity which would have dis- graced an Algerine courser. For five years, in the Avar which Eng- land was then waging against France, he was compelled to serve the British cannon. In 1805 he was transferred on board the Brit- ish frigate Statira. In reply to his remonstrances he was told that, if he Avere not submissive and obedient, “ he should be tied to the mast, and shot at like a dog.” He contrived to get a letter to his father. His friends exerted themselves to the utmost to obtain his release. General Lyman, the American consul at London, applied to the Lords Commissioners in vain for his discharge. Certificates of his nativity were exhibited from the selectmen, town-clerk, and parish minister of his native town. Still he was held in British slavery all through our second war with England, compelled to fight against his own countrymen. On the 14th of March, 1814, Commodore Decatur sent the father, un- der a flag of truce, on board the Statira, which was then one of the British blockading squadron off New London. Commodore De- catur sent with the flag a note to Captain Capel of the Statira, saying “ that he felt persuaded that the application of the father, furnished as he was with conclusive evidence of the nativity and identity of his son, would induce an immediate order for his dis- charge.” The interview between the father and the son, after eleven years of separation, Avas most affecting. There was not a doubt in the mind of a single British officer of Hiram Thayer’s be- ing an American citizen ; but they refused to release him, alleging simply that they had no authority to do so. The unhappy man Avas still detained in this slavery, as atrocious as ever disgraced a Cuban plantation. Not long after this he fell overboard and was droAvned. A trunk containing portions of his clothing were the only memo- rials of their loved son which Avere ever returned to his afflicted parents. On the 18th of June, 1812, President Madison gave his approval 164 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. to an act of Congress declaring war against Great Britain. Not- withstanding the bitter hostility of the Federal party to the war, the country in general approved ; and Mr. Madison, on the 4th of March, 1813, was reelected by a large majority, and entered upon his second term of office. This is not the place to describe the va- rious adventures of this war on the land and on the water. Our infant navy then laid the foundations of its renown in grappling with the most formidable power which ever swept the seas. The contest commenced in earnest by the appearance of a British fleet, early in February, 1813, in Chesapeake Bay, declaring nearly the whole coast of the United States under blockade. The Emperor of Russia offered his services as mediator. Amer- ica accepted ; England refused. A British force of five thousand men landed on the banks of the Patuxent River, near its entrance into Chesapeake Bay, and marched rapidly by way of Bladensburg upon Washington. There was no sufficient force in the vicinity to resist them. General Winder was in command of a few regular troops and some regiments of militia. The straggling little city of Washington was thrown into con- sternation. The cannon of the brief conflict at Bladensburg echoed through the streets of the metropolis. The whole population fled from the city. The President, leaving Mrs. Madison in the White House, with her carriage drawn up at the door to await his speedy return, hurried to meet the officers in a council of war. He met our troops utterly routed, and could not go back without danger of being captured. She writes to her sister under date of Wednesday, August 12, 1814, twelve o’clock at noon, — “ Since sunrise I have been turning my spy-glass in every direc- tion, and watching with unwearied anxiety, hoping to discern the near approach of my dear husband and his friends ; but, alas ! I can descry only groups of military wandering in all directions, as if there was a lack of arms or of spirit to fight for their own firesides. “ Three o'clock. — Will you believe it, my sister ? we have had a battle, or skirmish, near Bladensburg, and I am still here within sound of the cannon. Mr. Madison comes not: may God protect him ! Two messengers, covered with dust, came to bid me fly ; but I wait for him. At this late hour a wagon has been procured. I have had it filled with the plate and the most valuable portable arti- cles belonging to the house. Whether it will reach its destination, JAMES MADISON. 165 — the Bank of Maryland, — or fall into the hands of British sol- diery, events must determine.” But a few hours elapsed ere the presidential mansion, the Capi- tol, and all the public buildings in Washington, were in flames. A few months after this great humiliation, the British made an at- tempt upon New Orleans. They were repulsed by General Jackson with great slaughter. Napoleon was now overpowered. The allied despots were triumphant, and, assembled in congress at Vienna, were partitioning out the reenslaved nations of Europe between them. Their one great object was so to divide Europe that the peo- ple should not again have the opportunity to rise against the old regimes of tyranny. Truthfully does “ The British Quarterly ” say,— “ The treaties of Vienna of 1815, though the most desperate efforts have been made by the English diplomatists to embalm them as monuments of political wisdom, are fast becoming as dead as those of Westphalia. In fact, they should be got under ground with all possible dispatch ; for no compacts so worthless, so wicked, so utterly subversive of the rights of humanity, are to be found in the annals of nations.” England was the leading power in this Congress. The British Cabinet, flushed with victory, was never more arrogant than then. England was now prepared to turn her whole immense armament against our country. We were sadly divided among ourselves. The New England States were so hostile to the war as seriously to embarrass the government. Never was our country enveloped in deeper gloom. Commissioners had been sent to Ghent to obtain peace with the British crown, if it could possibly be obtained, on any reasonable terms. About noon of the 13th of February, 1815, a strange rumor was found floating through Washington, — that a treaty of peace had been signed at Ghent. Gathering strength as it flew, the whole city was soon in a state of the most intense excitement. Whence came the story, no one could satisfactorily tell. At length, after diligent inquiring, it appeared that a private express had rapidly passed through the city, bearing the important tidings to merchants in the South. Still it was but a rumor. Mr. Gales, editor of “ The National Intelligencer,” anxious to obtain some reliable informa- tion upon an event so momentous, called upon President Madison. 166 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. He found him sitting alone, in the dusk of the evening, apparently pondering the prodigious change which the news, if true, would produce in public affairs. The President, always affable, never excited, was inclined to credit the report. He knew that mercantile zeal might outrun political ardor. His manner was so composed, his spirits so tran- quil and unruffled, that one not acquainted with his perfect power over himself might have supposed it a matter of much indifference to him whether the report were true or false. Information then, when there were neither railroads nor tele- graph wires, traveled slowly. It was not until late in the after- noon of the next day that a coach, drawn by four foaming horses, came thundering down Pennsylvania Avenue, with official commu- nication of the glad tidings. What pen can describe the excite- ment of that hour, as cheers burst from all lips ? The drawing- room at the President’s mansion was speedily thronged. Mrs. Madison was there, radiant with joy, the President being absent with his Cabinet. In a moment, to use the expressive phrase of John Adams, the country had passed from “gloom to glory.” No one rejoiced more heartily than did President Madison. It had been with the utmost reluctance that he had been forced into a war. England did not relinquish her claim of the “ right of search ; ” but, as there was peace in Europe, there was no longer any motive to continue the practice. It was, of course, inexpedient for the United States to persist in the war for a mere abstraction. It is safe to say that Great Britain will never again undertake to drag a man from the protecting folds of the stars and stripes. Americans of all coming ages will revere the memory of James Madison for resisting such wrongs. “ I am an American citizen ” will henceforth be an argument which will command the respect of the world. On the 4th of March, 1817, his second term of office expired, and he resigned the presidential chair to his friend James Monroe. Happy in his honorable release from the cares of state, he retired to the leisure and repose of his beautiful retreat at Montpelier. He was within a day’s ride of Monticello, and was thus, in the estima-* tion of a Virginian, a near neighbor of Mr. Jefferson. Here, in his paternal home, embosomed among the hills, a victor in life’s stern battle, he passed peacefully the remainder of his days. The mansion was large and commodious, situated at the base of JAMES MADISON. 167 a high and wooded hill. A fine garden behind the house, and a spacious lawn in front, contributed their embellishments to the rural scene, where over countless acres the undulating expanse was covered with the primeval forest. The venerable mother of Mr. Madison still resided with her son, the object of his unceasing and most affectionate attentions. One wing of the mansion was appro- priated to her. “ By only opening a door,” writes a visitor, “ the observer passed from the elegances, refinements, and gayeties of modern life into all that was venerable, respectable, and dignified in gone-by days ; from the airy apartments, windows opening to the ground, hung with light silken drapery, French furniture, light fancy chairs, gay carpets, to the solid and heavy carved and polished mahogany furni- ture darkened by age, the thick, rich curtains, and other more com- fortable adjustments, of our great-grandfathers’ times.” Mr. Madison’s health was delicate. He was much beloved by his neighbors and friends ; and, though his union had not been blessed with children, his accomplished and amiable wife was ever to him a source of the greatest happiness. Nineteen years of life still remained to him. He seldom left his home, though he took much interest in the agricultural prosperity of the country, and very cordially cooperated with President Jefferson in watching over the affairs of the university at Charlottesville. In 1829 he consented to become a member of the convention at Richmond to revise the Constitution of the State. Small in stature, slender and delicate in form, with a countenance full of intelligence, and expressive alike of mildness and dignity, he attracted the atten- tion of all w'ho attended the convention, and was treated with the utmost deference. He seldom addressed the assembly, though he always appeared self-possessed, and watched with unflagging inter- est the progress of every measure. Though the convention sat for sixteen weeks, he spoke but twice ; but when he did speak, the whole house paused to listen. His voice was feeble, though the enunciation was very distinct. One of the reporters — Mr. Stans- bury — relates the following anecdote of the last speech he made. Having carefully written out the speech, he sent the manuscript to President Madison for his revision. “ The next day, as there was a great call for it, and the report had not been returned for publication, I sent my son with a respect- ful note, requesting the manuscript. My son was a lad of about 168 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. sixteen, whom I had taken with me to act as amanuensis. On de- livering my note, he was received with the utmost politeness, and requested to come up to Mr. Madison’s chamber, and wait while he ran his eye over the paper, as company had, until that moment, prevented his attending to it. He did so ; and Mr. Madison sat down, pen in hand, to correct the report. The lad stood near him, so that his eye fell on the paper. Coming to a certain sentence in the speech, Mr. Madison struck out a word, and substituted another ; but hesitated, and, not feeling quite satisfied with the second word, drew his pen through it also. “ My son was young, ignorant of the world, and unconscious of the solecism of which he was about to be guilty, when, in all sim- plicity, he suggested a word. Yes, he ventured, boy that he was, to suggest to James Madison an improvement in his own speech ! Probably no other individual then living would have taken such a liberty. But the sage, instead of regarding such an intrusion with a frown, raised his eyes to the boy’s face with a pleased surprise, and said, ‘Thank you, sir; it is the very word,’ and immediately inserted it. I saw him the next day, and he mentioned the circum- stance, with a compliment on the young critic.” On the 28th of June, 1836, Mr. Madison, then eighty-five years of age, fell asleep in death. His memory is embalmed in a nation’s veneration and gratitude. Like all public men, exposed to much obloquy in his political life, that obloquy has now so passed away that we can scarcely believe that it ever existed. In a glowing tribute to his memory, uttered by the venerable ex-President, John Quincy Adams, the following words, eloquent in their truthfulness, were uttered : — “ Of that band of benefactors of the human race, the founders of the Constitution of the United States, James Madison is the last who has gone to his reward. Their glorious work has survived them all. They have transmitted the precious bond to us, now entirely a succeeding generation to them. May it never cease to be a voice of admonition to us, of our duty to transmit the inher- itance unimpaired to our children of the rising age ! ” Mrs. Madison survived her husband thirteen years, and died on the 12th of July, 1849, in the eighty-second year of her age. She was one of the most remarkable women our country has produced ; and it is fitting that her memory should descend to posterity in company with that of the companion of her life. CHAPTER V. JAMES MONROE. Parentage and Birth. — Education. — Enters the Army. — A Legislator. — A Senator. — Po- litical Views. — Mission to France. — Bonaparte. — Purchase of Louisiana. — Unfriend- liness of England. — Prospective Greatness of America. — Washington’s Views of the French Revolution. — Colonel Monroe Governor. — Secretary both of War and of State. — Elected to the Presidency. — Northern Tour. — Purchase of Florida Sympathy with Revolutionary Soldiers. — The Monroe Doctrine. — Retirement and Death. Many years ago there was a hotly contested election in Virginia, when two young men, James Madison and James Monroe, were rival RESIDENCE OF JAMES MONROE. candidates for some local office. The friends of both parties were exhausting their energies to bring every voter to the polls. A very 170 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. infirm and aged man was transported from a considerable distance, in a wagon, by the friends of Mr. Madison. As be was sitting in the building, waiting for bis opportunity to vote, the name of James Monroe struck bis half-paralyzed ear. He started up, and inquired if James Monroe was the son of the man of that name who some years ago lived and died in the province. Upon being told that be was the grandson of that person, the old man exclaimed with emo- tion, — “ Then I shall vote for James Monroe. His grandfather be- friended me when I fii'st came into the country, fed me and clothed me, and I lived in liis house. I do not know James Madison. I shall vote for James Monroe.” Virtues seem to be often hereditary. That same spirit of be- nevolence which prompted the grandfather to feed and clothe and shelter the child of want descended to his children and his children’s children. The Monroe family were among the first who emigrated to this country, and selected their home in what is now Westmore- land County, Va., — that beautiful expanse of fertile land which is spread out on the western banks of the Potomac. They were the near neighbors of the Washington family; and being the owners of a large estate, were in comparative opulence. James Monroe, who became fifth President of the United States, was born upon his father’s plantation on the 28th of April, 1/58. At that time Virginia presented an aspect somewhat resembling feudal Europe in the Middle Ages. Here and there, in wide dis- persion, were to be seen the aristocratic mansions of the planters, while near by were clustered the cheerless hovels of the poor and debased laborers. There were intelligence, culture, luxury, in the saloons of the master ; debasement, ignorance, barbarism, in the cabins of the slaves. James Monroe, in childhood, like all his predecessors thus far in the presidential chair, enjoyed all the advantages of education which the country could then afford. He was early sent to a very fine classical school, and at the age of sixteen entered William and Mary College. It was his intention to study law. But the cloud of the great Revolution which sundered the colonies from the mother- country was gathering blackness ; and young Monroe, an earnest, impetuous, vigorous youth, whose blood coursed fiercely through his veins, could not resist his impatience to become an active partici- pator in the scenes which were opening. JAMES MONROE. 171 In 1776, when he had been in college but two years, the Declara- tion of Independence was adopted, and our feeble militia, without arms or ammunition or clothing, were struggling against the trained armies of England. James Monroe left college, hastened to General Washington's headquarters at New York, and enrolled himself as a. cadet in the army. It was one of the gloomiest hours in our history. The British were sweeping all before them. Our disheartened troops were de- serting in great numbers ; and the Tories, favoring the cause of Eng- land, were daily becoming more boastful and defiant. But James Monroe belonged to the class of the indomitable. With courage which never faltered, he took his place in the ranks. Firmly yet sadly he shared in the melancholy 1 'etreat from Harlem Heights and White Plains, and accompanied the dispirited army as it fled before its foes through New Jersey. In four months after the Declaration of Independence, the patriots had been beaten in seven battles. At Trenton, Lieutenant Monroe so distinguished himself, receiv- ing a wound in his shoulder, that he was promoted to a captaincy. Upon recovering from his wound, he was invited to act as aide to Lord Sterling ; and in that capacity he took an active part in the battles of Brandywine, Germantown, and Monmouth. At German- town he stood by the side of Lafayette when the French marquis received his wound. General Washington, who had formed a high idea of young Monroe’s abilities, sent him to Virginia to raise a new regiment, of which he was to be colonel ; but so exhausted was Vir- ginia at that time, that the effort proved unsuccessful. He, however, received his commission. Finding no opportunity to enter the army as a commissioned offi- cer, he returned to his original plan of studying law, and entei-ed the office of Thomas Jefferson, who was then Governor of Virginia. Mr. Jefferson had a large and admirable library, and inspired his pupil with zeal for study. He developed a very noble character, frank, manly, sincere. Abounding with kindliness of feeling, and scorning everything ignoble, he won the love of all who knew him. Mr. Jefferson said of him, — “ James Monroe is so perfectly honest, that if his soul were turned inside out there would not be found a spot on it.” In 1782, when but twenty-three years of age, he was elected to 172 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. the Assembly of Virginia, and was also appointed a member of the Executive Council. The next year he was chosen delegate to the Continental Congress for a term of three years. He was present at Annapolis when Washington surrendered his commission of com- mander-in-chief. Young as Colonel Monroe was, he proved himself in Congress a very efficient man of business. With Washington, Jefferson, and Madison, he felt deeply the in- efficiency of the old Articles of Confederation, and urged the forma- tion of a new Constitution, which should invest the central govern- ment with something like national power. Influenced by these views, he introduced a resolution that Congress should be empowered to regulate trade, and to lay an impost duty of five per cent. The resolution was referred to a committee of which he was chairman. The report, and the discussion which rose upon it, led to the con- vention of five States at Annapolis, and the subsequent general con- vention at Philadelphia, which, in 1787, drafted the Constitution of the United States. At this time there was a controversy between New York and Massachusetts in reference to their boundaries. The high esteem in which Colonel Monroe was held is indicated by the fact that he was appointed one of the judges to decide the controversy. While in New York attending Congress, he formed a matrimonial connection with Miss Kortright, a young lady distinguished alike for her beauty and her accomplishments. For nearly fifty years this happy union continued unbroken, a source of almost unalloyed happiness to both of the parties. In London and in Paris, as in her own country, Mrs. Monroe won admiration and affection by the loveliness of her person, the brilliancy of her intellect, and the amiability of her character. Returning to Virginia, Colonel Monroe commenced the practice of law at Fredericksburg. He was almost immediately elected to a seat in the state Legislature ; and the next year he was chosen a member of the Virginia Convention, which was assembled to decide upon the acceptance or rejection of the Constitution which had been drawn up at Philadelphia, and was now submitted to the several States. Deeply as he felt the imperfections of the old confederacy, he was opposed to the new Constitution, thinking, with many others of the Republican party, that it gave too much power to the central government, and not enough to the individual States. Still he re- JAMES MONROE. 173 tained the esteem of his friends, who were its warm supporters, and who, notwithstanding his opposition, secured its adoption. In 1789 he became a member of the United States Senate, which office he held acceptably to his constituents, and with honor to himself, for four years. Every month the line of distinction between the two great parties which divided the nation, the Federal and the Repub- lican, was growing more distinct. The two prominent ideas which now separated them were, that the Republican party was in sympa- thy with France, and was also in favor of such a strict construction of the Constitution as to give the central government as little power and the state governments as much power as the Constitu- tion would warrant. The Federalists sympathized with England, and were in favor of a liberal construction of the Constitution, which would give as much power to the central government as that docu- ment could possibly authorize. Mr. Monroe, having opposed the Constitution as not leaving enough power with the States, of course became more and more identified with the Republican party. Thus he found himself in cordial cooperation with Jefferson and Madison. The great Repub- lican party became the dominant power which ruled the land. But we can imagine the shades of John Adams and Alexander Hamil- ton rising from their graves in the midst of our awful civil war, and exclaiming, sadly yet triumphantly, “ Did we not tell you so ? Has it not been that very doctrine of state sovereignty which has plunged our land into this conflict ? and have you not found it necessary, that you might save the country from destruction, to arm the Con- stitution with those very powers which we were so anxious to stamp upon it ? ” The leading Federalists and Republicans were alike noble men, consecrating all their energies to the good of the nation. Two more honest men or more pure patriots than John Adams the Federalist, and James Monroe the Republican, never breathed. In building up this majestic nation, which is destined to eclipse all Grecian and Assyrian greatness, the combination of their antagonisms was needed to create the right equilibrium. And yet each, in his day, was denounced as almost a demon. Let this consideration, here- after, allay the bitterness of party strife. George Washington was then President. England had espoused the cause of the Bourbons against the principles of the French Rev- 174 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. olution. All Europe was drawn into the conflict. We were feeble, and far away. President Washington issued a proclamation of neu- trality between these contending powers. France had helped us in the struggle for our liberties. All the despotisms of Europe were now combined to prevent the French from escaping from tyranny a thousand-fold worse than that which we had endured. Colonel Mon- roe, more magnanimous than prudent, was anxious that, at what- ever hazard, we should help our old allies in their extremity. It was the impulse of a generous and a noble nature. He violently opposed the President’s proclamation as ungrateful and wanting in magnanimity. Washington, who could appreciate such a character, developed his calm, serene, almost divine greatness, by appointing that very James Monroe who was denouncing the policy of the government, as the minister of that government to the republic of France. He was directed by Washington to express to the French people our warm- est sympathy, communicating to them corresponding resolves ap- proved by the President, and adopted by both houses of Congress. Mr. Monroe was welcomed by the National Convention in France with the most enthusiastic demonstrations of respect and affection. He was publicly introduced to that body, and received the embrace of the president, Merlin cle Douay, after having been addressed in a speech glowing with congratulations, and with expressions of desire that harmony might ever exist between the two countries. The flags of the two republics were intertwined in the hall of the con- vention. Mr. Monroe presented the American colors, and received those of France in return. The course which he pursued in Paris was so annoying to England, and to the friends of England in this country, that, near the close of Washington’s administration, Mr. Monroe was recalled. Mr. Pickering, Secretary of State, who was a fanatical hater of France, and proportionably an adulator of England, sent an angry dispatch to Mr. Monroe, charging him with “expressing a solicitude for the welfare of the French republic in a style too warm and af- fectionate, by which we were likely to give offense to other coun- tries, particularly to England.” In reply to this, Mr. Monroe states in his “ View ” the instruc- tions he received from Washington, which are interesting as showing the personal feelings of Washington towards France. He writes, — JAMES MONROE. 175 “My instructions enjoined it on me to use my utmost endeavors to inspire the French government with perfect confidence in the solicitude which the President felt for the success of the French Revolution; of his preference of France to all other nations, as the friend and ally of the United States ; of the grateful sense which we still retained for the important services that were rendered us by France in the course of our Revolution ; and to declare in explicit terms, that although neutrality was the lot we preferred, yet, in case we embarked in the war, it would be on her side, and against her enemies, be they who they might.” In 1796 President Washington addressed the French minister in the following words : “ My best wishes are irresistibly excited, whensoever, in any country, I see an oppressed nation unfurl the banner of freedom ; but, above all, the events of the French Revo- lution have produced the deepest solicitude as well as the highest admiration. To call your nation brave, were to pronounce but common praise. Wonderful people ! Ages to come will read with astonishment your brilliant exploits. In delivering to you these sentiments, I express not my feelings only, but those of my fellow- citizens, in relation to the commencement, the progress, and the issue of the French Revolution.” All despotic Europe combined against the enfranchised nation. In the frenzy of the unequal fight, France was plunged into anar- chy ; from which she was rescued by Napoleon, into whose imperial arms, in her dire necessity, she had cast herself. And then all despotic Europe turned its arms against that one man. He was crushed. The unfurled banner of “ Equal Rights,” which he had so grandly borne aloft, was trampled in the dust ; and subjugated France again bowed her neck to the old feudal tyranny. While Mr. Monroe was our minister in France, Mr. Jay, with strong English proclivities, was our ambassador at the court of St. James. He was ever ready to enter into a commercial treaty which would favor that country at the expense of our old ally. Mr. Jay, with other men of his party, scouting the idea that any thanks were due to France for the aid she had rendered us in the Revolution, and was not disposed to discriminate in the least in her favor. Hence there was intense antagonism between Colonel Monroe and Mr. Jay. Colonel Monroe, after his return, wrote a book of four hundred 176 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. pages, entitled “ A View of the Conduct of the Executive in For- eign Affairs.” In this work he very ably advocated his side of the question ; but, with magnanimity characteristic of the man, he recorded a warm tribute to the patriotism, ability, and spotless in- tegrity of John Jay ; and, in subsequent years, he expressed in warmest terms his perfect veneration for the character of George Washington. Shortly after his return to this country, Colonel Monroe was elected Governor of Virginia, and held that office for three years, - — the period limited by the Constitution. In the year 1802 it was announced that Spain had ceded to France that vast territory, ex- tending from the Mississippi to the Pacific, which was called Louis- iana. Napoleon, then at the head of the armies of revolutionary France, with “ Liberty, Fraternity, Egalite,” inscribed on their ban- ners, was trampling down those despots who had banded together to force back the execrated old regime of the Bourbons upon the emancipated empire. Most of our knowledge of what was transpir- ing on the continent of Europe came to us through the English press. Never had a story been more falsely told than that press had narrated, — the struggle of the French people for equal rights, in the revolution and in the establishment of the empire. The name of Bonaparte became a teri'or throughout the United States. Mothers frightened their disobedient children with the threat that Bonaparte would get them. It was proclaimed that the conqueror of Europe had only reserved us as his last victim ; that, taking possession of this vast territory of Louisiana, and land- ing upon it countless legions of his triumphant veterans, he would sweep the country from New Orleans to Canada, establish his em- pire here, and trample our liberties in the dust. The writer of this well remembers his terror, when a child, in contemplation of this invasion by that Napoleonic monster whom we had been taught to regard as the embodiment of all evil. Mr. Livingston was then our minister to France. He drew up a very able memorial to the First Consul, arguing that it would be for the true interest of both countries that France should cede the province of Louisiana to the United States. It was so manifest that the United States must have the control of the mouths of the Mis- sissippi, through which alone the most majestic valley on our globe could have access to the ocean, that our most sagacious statesmen JAMES MONROE. 177 felt assured that, if we could not obtain this province by treaty, it would inevitably involve us erelong in war. Mr. Jefferson was then President. He was beloved in France. The memory of James Monroe was cherished there with universal respect and affection. He was accordingly sent to cooperate with Chancellor Livingston to endeavor to obtain by treaty, if possible, this vast possession. Their united efforts were successful. For the comparatively small sum of fifteen millions of dollars, though a very large one for us in those days, “ the entire territory of Orleans, and district of Louisiana,” were added to the United States. It has been truly said that this was probably the largest transfer of real estate which was ever made since Adam was presented with the fee-simple of Paradise. The country thus obtained was in ex- tent equal to the whole previous territory of the Union. It is uni- versally admitted that Mr. Monroe’s influence was very prominent in this measure, and he ever regarded it as the most important of his public services. We have now such a territory in magnitude, and adaptation to human wants, as no other nation on this globe ever possessed. From France Mr. Monroe went to England to obtain from that government some recognition of our rights as neutrals, and to re- monstrate against those odious impressments of our seamen which were fast rousing the indignation of the country to the highest pitch. But England was unrelenting. He then went to Spain, by way of Paris, where he saw Napoleon crowned. In Spain he en- deavored, though unavailingly, to adjust a controversy which had arisen respecting the eastern boundary of the territory, which that government had ceded to France, and France to us. Napoleon, in his cession, had copied the same words which Spain had used in conveying the territory to France. Our relations with England were daily becoming moi’e menacing. We would not willingly revive old griefs to perpetuate animosi- ties : we would gladly have past wrongs forgotten, that kindly sym- pathies may pervade the whole human brotherhood. But it is the duty of the biographer and the historian to hold up the errors of the past as a warning for the future. There is not a nation on this globe, savage or civilized, which regards with cordial friendship the British government. For the last half-century England has been the leading power among the nations. Her demeanor has been 12 178 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. arrogant, haughty, and overbearing. The powerful have been re- pelled by her proud assumptions, and the weak have been trampled upon in undisguised contempt. England is no longer the leading- power in the world, and there are none who mourn to see her shorn of her strength. Let America take warning. It is as important that a nation should have the good will of all surrounding powers as that an in- dividual should be loved by his neighbors. Let us be courteous, obliging, and unselfish in our intercourse with the strong, and sym- pathetic, gentle, and helping to the weak. Let us try to prove the world’s great benefactor, the friend and comforter of our brother man everywhere struggling beneath the heavy burden of life. England, despising our feeble navy, forbade our trading with France; and seized and confiscated mercilessly our merchant-ships bound to any port in France or Spain, wherever her cruisers could arrest them. Mr. Monroe again returned to England, almost in the character of a suppliant ; for our government was extremely averse to adopt any measures which could lead to war. The ad- ministration was even taunted with the declaration, that it “ could not be kicked into a war.” No redress could be obtained. Mr. Monroe returned to this country, bearing with him a treaty which was so very unsatisfactory that the President was not willing to submit it to the Senate. Plundered merchants and ruined ship- owners poured in upon Congress petitions and remonstrances, and there was a cry throughout the land that that government was rec- reant to its trust which did not protect its citizens from outrage. At this time Mr. Monroe, at the age of forty-eight, returned to his quiet home in Virginia, and with his wife and children, and an ample competence from his paternal estate, enjoyed a few years of domestic repose. In the year 1809 Mr. Jeffei-son’s second term of office expired. Many of the Republican party were anxious to nominate James Monroe as his successor. The majority wei-e in favor of Mr. Madi- son. Mr. Jefferson also favored Mr. Madison, as being the more moderate man, and the more likely to carry the votes of the whole party. Mr. Monroe withdrew his name, and was soon after chosen a second time Governor of Virginia. He soon resigned that office to accept the position of Secretary of State, offered him by Presi- dent Madison. The correspondence which he then carried on with JAMES MONROE. 179 the British government demonstrated that there was no hope of any peaceful adjustment of our difficulties with the Cabinet of St. James. War was consequently declared in June, 1812. Immedi- ately after the sack of Washington, the Secretary of War resigned ; and Mr. Monroe, at the earnest request of Mr. Madison, assumed the additional duties of the War Department, without resigning his office of Secretary of State. It has been confidently stated, that, had Colonel Monroe’s energy been in the War Department a few months earlier, the disaster at Washington would not have occurred. The duties now devolving upon Mr. Monroe were extremely arduous. Ten thousand men, picked from the veteran armies of England, were sent, with a powerful fleet, to New Orleans, to ac- quire possession of the mouths of the Mississippi. Our finances were in the most deplorable condition. The treasury was ex- hausted, and our credit gone ; and yet it was necessary to make the most vigorous preparations to meet the foe. In this crisis James Monroe, the Secretary of War, with virtue unsurpassed in Greek or Roman story, stepped forward, and pledged his own individual credit as subsidiary to that of the nation, and thus succeeded in placing the city of New Orleans in such a posture of defense that it was enabled successfully to repel the invader. Mr. Monroe was truly the armor-bearer of President Madison, and the most efficient business man in his Cabinet. His energy, in his double capacity of Secretary both of State and War, pervaded all the departments of the country. With the most singular unself- ishness, regardless both of his private interests and his political popularity, he advocated every measure which in his judgment would aid in securing the triumph of his country. He proposed to increase the army to a hundred thousand men, — a measure which he deemed absolutely necessary to save us from ignominous defeat, but which, at the same time, he knew would render his name so un- popular as to preclude the possibility of his being a successful candidate for the Presidency. He conversed freely with his friends upon the subject, and calmly decided to renounce all thoughts of the presidential chair, while he urged that conscription which would enter every dwelling in search of a soldier. The happy result of the conference at Ghent in securing peace rendered the increase of the army unnecessary; but it is not too much to say, that James Monroe placed in the hands of Andrew 180 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. Jackson the weapon with which he beat off the foe at New Orleans. Upon the return of peace Mr. Monroe resigned the Department of War, devoting himself exclusively to the duties of the Secretary of State. These he continued to discharge until the close of President Madison’s administration, with zeal which never abated, and with an ardor of self-devotion which made him almost forgetful of the claims of fortune, health, or life. Mr. Madison’s second term of office expired in March, 1817; and Mr. Monroe, thoroughly acquainted with all the affairs of the nation, and perfectly versed in all the duties before him, succeeded to the Presidency. He was the candidate of the Republican party, now taking the name of Democratic Republican ; and was chosen by a large majority. There seemed to be for a time a lull in party strife. Mr. Monroe was a man of ability, at home in all statesman- like duties, more familiar than perhaps any other person with our internal and foreign relations : he was a man of unblemished character, of honesty of purpose, and purity of patriotism which no man could question. A better choice could not have been made. His inaugural was conciliatory, and pleased all. The Constitution which he had opposed, wishing merely to introduce some amend- ments before it was adopted, he now admitted to be nearly perfect. It has been said, happy is that nation which has no history ; for history is but a record of revolutions and battles. There is but little to be recorded during the eight years in which President Monroe was at the head of the administration of our government. They were years of prosperity and peace. In forming his Cabinet, Mr. Monroe placed the Department of State in the hands of John Quincy Adams. Florida was purchased of Spain for five millions of dollars, by the exercise of that power which Mr. Monroe, in his inexperienced days, had been so reluctant to confer upon the gen- eral government. In June of 1817 President Monroe took a very extensive journey through the States, visiting all the fortifications. He was every- where received with enthusiasm. He was conveyed up the Dela- ware from Wilmington to the navy-yard in Philadelphia in a barge of the Franklin (seventy-four). The barge was lined and trimmed with crimson velvet, and rowed by sixteen oarsmen, dressed in scarlet vests, white sleeves and trousers. The President wore a dark-blue coat, buff vest, doeskin buff-colored breeches, and top- JAMES MONROE. 181 boots, with a military cocked-hat of the fashion of the Revolution, and a black ribbon cockade. His route led him through New Yoi'k, New Haven, Hartford, and Springfield, to Boston. His reception in Boston was very imposing. A cavalcade of citizens met him on the Neck, and escorted him through the principal streets of the city to rooms sumptuously prepared for his reception in the Exchange Coffee House. Salutes were fired from Dorchester Heights, the Common, and the forts in the harbor. State Street was brilliantly THE BARGE. decorated ; and the crowd which was gathered in the commercial emporium of New England was greater than had ever been seen there since the visit of Washington. From Boston he passed through New Hampshire and Vermont to Plattsburg in New York, and thence continued his journey to Ogdensburg, Sackett’s Harbor, and Detroit, returning to Washing- ton the latter part of September. His long and fatiguing tour, which then occupied four months, could now be easily performed in three weeks. 182 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. When President Monroe was a young man of eighteen, he was wounded at the battle of Trenton. Passing through Hanover, N. H., in this tour, he called upon the widow of President Wheelock of Dartmouth College, who, when a young lady at her father’s house, had with her own hands prepared the bandages with which the surgeon had dressed the wound. In pensive memory of the past, the care-worn statesman and the bereaved widow exchanged their sympathetic greetings, and then separated, not again to meet on this earth. All along his route President Monroe met his old companions in arms, many of whom were impoverished. One friend he found whom he had known as a young, scholarly, accomplished officer, and who had contributed lavishly of his fortune to feed and clothe the soldiers of his regiment, but whose threadbare garments too plainly bespoke the poverty which had come with his gray hairs. The President was deeply moved, and, on his retiring, spoke with great warmth of the neglect of our country in making provision for the wants of those who had shed their blood for our independence. On his return to Washington he exerted himself in seeming a pension law to cheer the declining years of these fast-disappearing veterans. In 1821 President Monroe was reelected, with scarcely any op- position. Out of 232 electoral votes, Mr. Monroe had 231. The slavery question, which subsequently assumed such formidable dimensions, threatening to whelm the whole Union in ruins, how began to make its appearance. The State of Missouri, which had been carved out of that immense territory which we had purchased of France, applied for admission to the Union with a slavery con- stitution. There were not a few who foresaw the evils impending. In the long and warm debate which ensued, Mr. Lourie of Maryland said, — “ Sir, if the alternative be, as gentlemen broadly intimate, a dis- solution of the Union, or the extension of slavery over this whole western country, I, for one, will choose the former. . I do not say this lightly. I am aware that the idea is a dreadful one. The choice is a dreadful one. Either side of the alternative fills my mind with horror. I have not, however, yet despaired of the Re- public.” After the debate of a week, it was decided that Missouri could not be admitted into the Union with slavery. The question was JAMES MONROE. 183 at length settled by a compromise, proposed by Henry Clay. Missouri was admitted with slavery on the 10th of May, 1821 ; and slavery was prohibited over all the territory ceded by France, north of thirty-six degrees, thirty minutes, north latitude. The famous “ Monroe Doctrine,” of which so much has recently been said, originated in this way: In the year 1823 it was rumored that the Holy Alliance was about to interfere to prevent the estab- lishment of republican liberty in the European colonies in South America. President Monroe wrote to his old friend Thomas Jeffer- son, then the sage of Monticello, for advice in the emergency. In the reply, under date of October 24th, Mr. Jefferson writes upon the supposition that our attempt to resist this European movement might lead to war, — “ Its object is to introduce and establish the American system of keeping out of our land all foreign powers ; of never permitting those of Europe to intermeddle with the affairs of our nation. It is to maintain our own principle, not to depart from it.” A few weeks after this, on the 2d of December, 1823, President Monroe sent a message to Congress, declaring it to be the policy of this government not to entangle ourselves with the broils of Europe, and not to allow Europe to interfere with affairs of nations on the American continents; and the doctrine was announced, that any at- tempt on the part of the European powers “ to extend their system to any portion of this hemisphere would be regarded by the United States as dangerous to our peace and safety.” On the 4th of March, 1825, Mr. Monroe, surrendering the presi- dential chair to his Secretary of State, John Quincy Adams, retired, with the universal respect of the nation, to his private residence at Oak Hill, in Loudoun County, Va. His time had been so entirely consecrated to the country, that he had neglected his own pecuniary interests, and was deeply involved in debt. In devotion to his du- ties, he had engaged “ in labors outlasting the daily circuit of the sun, and outwatching the vigils of the night.” The welfare of the country — the whole country — had ever been the one prominent thought in his mind. If we allow the panorama of his life to pass rapidly before us, we see him, just emerging from boyhood, welter- ing in blood on the field of Trenton ; then, still a youth, he is seated among the sages of the land, forming the laws; then he moves with power which commands attention and respect in the courts of Brit- / 184 LIVES UP THE PRESIDENTS. ain, France, and Spain, defending the rights of his country ; then his native State raises him to the highest honor in her gift, and twice places in his hand the sceptre of gubernatorial power; again we behold him successfully forging the thunderbolts of war with which to repel invasion, while at the same time he conducts our dip- lomatic cori’espondence, and frames our foreign policy, with jealous and often hostile nations ; and again we see him, by the almost unan- imous voice of his countrymen, placed in the highest post of honor the nation could offer, — the Presidency of the United States; and then, with dignity, he retires to a humble home, a poor man in worldly wealth, but rich in all those excellences which can ennoble humanity. For many years Mrs. Monroe was in such feeble health that she rarely appeared in public. In 1830 Mr. Monroe took up his resi- dence with his son-in-law in New York, where he died on the 4th of July, 1831, at the age of seventy-three years. The citizens of New York conducted his obsequies with pageants more imposing than had ever been witnessed there before. Our country will ever cherish his memory with pride, gratefully enrolling his name in the list of its benefactors, pronouncing him the worthy successor of the illustrious men who bad preceded him in the presidential chair. CHAPTER VI, Quincy, Mass., on the 11th of July, 1767. His mother, a woman of exalted worth, watched over his childhood during the almost con- JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. Rirth and Childhood. — Education in Europe. — Private Secretary. — Enters Harvard College. — Studies Law — Minister to the Netherlands. — Commendation of Washington. — Other Missions. — Return to America. — Elected to the Massachusetts Senate. — To the National House of Representatives. — Alienation of the Federalists. — Professor of Rhetoric. — Mis- sion to Russia. — Anecdote of Alexander. — Treaty of Ghent. — Secretary of State. — President. — Unscrupulous Opposition. — Retirement. — Returned to the House of Repre- sentatives. — Signal Services. — Public Appreciation. — Death. John Quincy Adams, the sixth President of the United States, was born in the rural home of his honored father, John Adams, in RESIDENCE OF JOHN QUIN C Y ADAMS. 186 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. stant absence of bis father. At the village school he commenced his education, giving at an early period indications of superior mental endowments. When but eight years of age he stood with his mother upon an eminence, listening to the booming of the great bat- tle on Bunker’s Hi*H, and gazing upon the smoke and flame billow- ing up from the conflagration of Charlestown. Often, during the siege of Boston, he watched the shells thrown day and night by the combatants. When but eleven years old he took a tearful adieu of his mother and was rowed out in a small boat to a ship anchored in the bay, to sail with his father for Europe, through a fleet of hostile British cruisers. The bright, animated boy spent a year and a half in Paris, where his father was associated with Franklin and Lee as minister plenipotentiary. His intelligence attracted the notice of these distinguished men, and he received from them flattering marks of attention. Mr. John Adams had scarcely returned to this country in 1779 ere he was again sent abroad, empowered to negotiate a treaty of peace with England, whenever England should be disposed to end the war. Again John Quincy accompanied his father. On this voyage he commenced a diary, noting down the remarkable events of each day ; which practice he continued, with but few interrup- tions, until his death. .With his active mind ever alert, he jour- neyed with his father from Ferrol in Spain, where the frigate landed, to Paris. Here he applied himself with great diligence, for six months, to study ; then accompanied his father to Holland, where he entered, first a school in Amsterdam, and then the Univer- sity of Leyden. About a year from this time, in 1781, when the manly boy was but fourteen years of age, he was selected by Mr. Dana, our minister to the Russian court, as his private secretary. In this school of incessant labor and of ennobling culture he spent fourteen months, and then returned to Holland through Sweden, Denmark, Hamburg, and Bremen. This long journey he took alone, in the winter, when in his sixteenth year. Again he resumed his studies, under a private tutor, at the Hague. Thence, in the spring of 1782, he accompanied his father to Paris, traveling leisurely, and forming acquaintance with the most distinguished men on the Continent; examining architectual remains, galleries of paintings, and all renowned works of art. At Paris he again be- JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 187 came the associate of the most illustrious men of all lands in the contemplation of the loftiest temporal themes which can engross the human mind. After a short visit to England, he returned to Paris, and consecrated all his energies to study until May, 1785, when he returned to America, leaving his father our ambassador at the court of St. James. To a brilliant young man of eighteen, who had seen much of the world, and who was familiar with the etiquette of courts, a residence with his father in London, under such circum- stances, must have been extremely attractive ; but, with judgment very rare in one of his age, he preferred to return to America to complete his education in an American college. He wished then to study law, that, with an honorable profession, he might be able to obtain an independent support. The advancement which he had already made in education was such that in 1786 he entered the junior class in Harvard Univer- sity. His character, attainments, and devotion to study secured alike the respect of his classmates and the faculty, and he graduated with the second honor of his class. The oration he delivered, on this occasion upon the “ Importance of Public Faith to the Well-being of a Community,” was published ; an event very rare in this or in any other land. Upon leaving college, at the age of twenty, he studied law for three years with the Hon. Theophilus Parsons, in Newburyport. In 1790 he opened a law office in Boston. The profession was crowded with able men, and the fees were small. The first year he had no clients ; but not a moment was lost, as his eager mind trav- ersed the fields of all knowledge. The second year passed away; still no clients ; and still he was dependent upon his parents for sup- port. Anxiously he entered upon the third year. He had learned to labor and to wait. The reward now came, — a reward richly merited by the purity of his character, the loftiness of his princi- ples, and his intense; application to every study which would aid him to act well his part in life. Clients began to enter his office ; and before the close of the year he was so crowded with business that all solicitude respecting a support was at an end. When Great Britain commenced war against France, in 1793, to arrest the progress of the French Revolution, Mr. Adams wrote some articles, urging entire neutrality on the part of the United States. The view was not a popular one. Many felt that as France had 188 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. helped us, we were bound to help France. But President Wash- ington coincided with Mr. Adams, and issued his proclamation of neutrality. His writings at this time in the Boston journals at- tracted national attention, and gave him so high a reputation for talent, and familiarity with our diplomatic relations, that in June, 1794, he, being then but twenty -seven years of age, was appointed by Washington resident minister at the Netherlands. Sailing from Boston in July, he reached London in October, where he was immediately admitted to the deliberations of Messrs. Jay and Pinckney, assisting them in negotiating a commercial treaty with Great Britain. After thus spending a fortnight in London, he proceeded to the Hague, where he arrived just after Holland was taken possession of by the French under Pichegru. The French gathered around Mr. Adams, as the representative of a nation which had just successfully passed through that struggle for liberty in which they were then engaged. In the agitated state of Europe, swept by the great armies strug- gling for and against “ equal rights for all men,” there was but little that a peaceful ambassador could then accomplish ; but being one of the most methodical and laborious of men, he devoted himself to official duties, the claims of society, reading the ancient classics, and familiarizing himself with the languages of modern Europe. Every hour had its assigned duty. Every night lie reviewed what he had done for the day ; and at the close of every month and every year he subjected his conduct to rigorous retrospection. In July, 1797, he left the Hague to go to Portugal as minister plenipotentiary. Washington at this time wrote to his father, John Adams, — “ Without intending to compliment the father or the mother, or to censure any others, I give it as my decided opinion, that Mr. Adams is the most valuable character which we have abroad ; and there remains no doubt in my mind that he will prove himself the ablest of all our diplomatic corps.” On his way to Portugal, upon his arrival in London, he met with dispatches directing him to the court of Berlin, but requesting him to remain in London until he should receive his instructions. While waiting he was married to an Amei’ican lady to whom he had been previously engaged, — Miss Louisa Catharine Johnson, daughter of Mr. Joshua Johnson, American consul in London ; a lady endowed JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 189 with that beauty and those accomplishments which eminently fitted her to move in the elevated sphere for which she was destined. Mr. Adams was very reluctant to accept the mission to Berlin, as it was an appointment made by his father, who had succeeded Washington in the presidential chair. But his father wrote to him, informing him of the earnest wish of Washington that the country might not lose the benefit of his familiarity with the Euro- pean courts. To his mother, John Quincy wrote, in reply, — “ I know with what delight your truly maternal heart has re- ceived every testimonial of .Washington’s favorable voice. It is among the most precious gratifications of my life to reflect upon the pleasure which my conduct has given to my parents. How much, my dear mother, is required of me to support and justify such a judgment as that which you have copied into your letter ! ” He reached Berlin with his wife in November, 1797, where he remained until July, 1799, when, having fulfilled all the purposes of his mission, he solicited his recall. In the mean time he trav- eled extensively through the German States, writing a series of let- ters which were subsequently published. As soon as permission came for his return, he embarked, and reached the United States in September, 1801. Soon after his return, in 1802, he was chosen to the Senate of Massachusetts from Boston, and then was elected senator of the United States for six years from the 4th of March, 1804. Alike the friend of Washington and Jefferson, with cordial commenda- tions from them both, he was in an admirable position to take an independent stand, unbiased by partisan prejudices. His reputa- tion, his ability, and his experience, placed him immediately among the most prominent and influential members of that body. In every measure which his judgment approved, he cordially sup- ported Mr. Jefferson’s administration. Especially did he sustain the government in its measures of resistance to the encroachments of England, destroying our commerce and insulting our flag. There was no man in America more familiar with the arrogance of the British court upon these points, and no one more resolved to pre- sent a firm resistance. This course, so truly patriotic, and which scarcely a voice will now be found to condemn, alienated fr^n him the Federal party dominant in Boston, and subjected him to censure. In 1805 he 190 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. was chosen professor of rhetoric in Harvard College ; and this in- defatigable man, in addition to his senatorial duties, entered vigor- ously upon a course of preparatory studies, reviewing his classics, and searching the literature of Europe for materials for his lectures. The lectures he thus prepared were subsequently published, and constitute enduring memorials of his genius and his industry. On the 22d of June, 1807, an event occurred to which we have referred, and to which it is necessary to allude more particularly. On the 7th of June, 1807, the United States frigate Chesapeake proeeeded to sea from Norfolk. The British man-of-war Leopard, knowing that she was to sail, had preceded her by a few hours, keeping advantage of the weather-gauge. As soon as the Chesa- peake was fairly out to sea, the Leopard came down upon her, hailed her, and said she had dispatches to send on board. Commo- dore Barron of the Chesapeake answered the hail, and said that he would receive a boat. A British lieutenant came on board, and presented an order from the British admiral, which stated that he had reason to believe that there were four British subjects among the seamen of the Chesapeake, and ordered Commodore Barron to muster the crew that he might select them. The commodore refused. As soon as informed of this by the return of the boat’s crew, the Leopard commenced firing upon the Chesapeake, and for fifteen minutes continued pouring in her broad- sides, though the Chesapeake was in such a condition, thus taken by surprise, as not to be able to answer by a single gun. Three men were killed, and Commodore Barron and nine others wounded. The Chesapeake’s flag was struck. The English captain refused to receive her as a prize, but took four men from the crew, whom he claimed as Englishmen. One of these soon after died ; one he hung as a deserter ; the two others were eventually returned to the Chesapeake as Americans. This outrage roused general indignation. A meeting was called at the State House in Boston. But few Federalists attended. Mr. Adams presented resolutions, which were unanimously adopted. His father, the ex-President, acted with him in this movement. For this they were both denounced as apostates from the Federal party. President Jefferson called a special meeting of Congress to act upon this affair. Mr. Adams earnestly supported the measures of Mr. Jefferson’s Cabinet, when it proposed, in response to this outrage, that — JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 191 “No British armed vessel shall be permitted to enter the harbors and waters under the jurisdiction of the United States, except when forced in by distress, by the dangers of the sea, or when charged with public dispatches, or coming as a public packet.” John Quincy Adams, in a letter to James Otis, dated March, 1808, writes, “ Examine the official returns from the Department of State. They give the names of between four and five thousand men im- pressed since the commencement of the present war, of which not one fifth part ivere British subjects. I hazard little in saying that more than three fourths were native Americans. If it be said that some of these men, though appealing on the face of the returns American citizens, were really British subjects, and had fraudulently procured their protections, I reply, that this number must be far exceeded by the cases of citizens impressed which never reach the Department of State. The American consul in London estimates the number of impressments during the war at three times the amount of the names returned.” Thus England dragged from our ships fifteen thousand men , whom she claimed as her subjects, and forced into her men-of-war to fight her battles. There was no trial by a court to substantiate a claim. Neither Tripoli nor Algiers ever perpetrated a grosser outrage. Mr. Adams, averring that the course the administration proposed was the only safe one for the country, became upon this point separated from his Federal friends, and allied to the administration ; and his services were recognized with gratitude by Mr. Jefferson. The Legislature of Massachusetts gave such unequivocal indication of their displeasure with Mr. Adams, that he addressed to them a letter, stating that he deemed it his duty to support the adminis- tration in those measures which to him seemed essential to the dignity and safety of the country ; but, as the Legislature had dis- approved of his course, he resigned his seat, that they might have an opportunity to place in the Senate of the United States a mem- ber whose views would be more consonant with those which they entertained. James Lloyd was immediately chosen to fill the place thus vacated by one whose renown filled two hemispheres. Mr. Adams returned to his professorship, not only neglected and avoided by his old friends, but assailed by them with the bitterest invectives. From this weight of obloquy he had no relief but in the approval of his 192 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. own conscience, and liis anticipation of that verdict which posterity has already rendered. In 1809 Madison succeeded Jefferson in the presidential chair; and he immediately nominated John Quincy Adams minister to St. Petersburg. Washington had declared that Mr. Adams was the ablest of the diplomatic corps, and that he must not think of retiring from that service. Stung by the treatment he had received from the Federalists in Boston, Mr. Adams abandoned the Federal party, and allied himself earnestly with Mr. Madison in his admin- istration. Resigning his professorship, he embarked at Boston with Mrs. Adams and their youngest son in August, 1809, and, after a stormy passage, reached St. Petersburg on the 23d of October. Twice their ship, which was a merchantman, was stopped and searched by British cruisers ; and, but for Mr. Adams’s firmness and thorough acquaintance with the law of nations, the ship would not have been permitted to continue to its port of destination. He was received by the Emperor Alexander alone in his cabinet, and a warm attachment immediately sprang up between those illustrious men ; and thus was laid the foundations of that friend- ship which binds the two nations together to the present day. I have before spoken of the arrogance assumed by the British gov- ernment in the days of its power, which has alienated from that government the sympathies of all nations. I have spoken of this as a warning to America, now that we are stepping forward to be the leading nation upon the globe. The following anecdote will illustrate this sentiment : — A short time ago a small party of American military officers were traveling upon the Danube. They met a party of Russian officers. The Russians gave them very manifestly the cold shoulder, so repelling the slightest advances as to indicate emphatically that they desired no acquaintance whatever. After thus traveling together for half a day, one of the Russian officers overheard a remark which led him to step forward, and inquire, “ Gentlemen, may I take the liberty to ask if you are Americans ? ” “We are,” was the response. Instantly they were surrounded with all cor- dial greetings. “ We beg your pardon,” said one ; “ we beg your pardon : but we thought you were English, and we all hate the English.” JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 193 Mrs. Adams became a great favorite with the imperial family. The emperor, influenced by the kindliness with which he regarded our minister and his family, tendered to the British government the offer of iiis mediation in the war which soon after broke out between Great Britain and America. Though England declined the media- tion, she felt constrained by the offer to propose to treat directly. Thus peace was effected. The Danish government had sequestered much American property in the ports of Holstein. Upon an intimation from Mr. Adams, the emperor sent word to that government that it would be gratifying to him if the American property could be restored as soon as possi- ble. The request was immediately granted. The foreign ministers at the Russian court were generally living in the greatest magnifi- cence ; but Mr. Adams received so small a salary that he was com- pelled to practice the most rigid economy. He was expected to attend the splendid entertainments of others, but could give none in return. One morning, as he was out walking, he met the emperor, who came cordially up to him, and, clasping his hand, said, — “ Why, Mr. Adams, it is a hundred years since I have seen you ! ” After some common observations, he inquired, “ Do you intend to take a house in the country this summer ? ” “No,” Mr. Adams replied : “I had that intention for some time, but have given it up.” “And why?” inquired the emperor. Then, observing a little hesitation in Mr. Adams’s manner, he relieved him from his embar- rassment by saying in perfect good humor, and with a smile, “ Per- haps it is from considerations of finance.” “ Those considerations are often very important,” Mr. Adams replied. “You are right,” rejoined the emperor: “it is always necessary to proportion one’s expenses to one’s receipts.” While in Russia Mr. Adams was an intense student. He devoted his attention to the language and history of Russia ; to the Chinese trade ; to the European system of weights, measures, and coins ; to the climate, and astronomical observations ; while he kept up a familiar acquaintance with the Greek and Latin classics. In all the universities of Europe a more accomplished scholar could scarcely be found. All through life the Bible constituted an important part of his studies. It was his rule every day to read five chapters. He also read with great attention the works of the most eminent the- 13 194 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. ologians. With this eagerness in the pursuit of knowledge, it is not surprising that he should write to a friend, — “ I feel nothing like the tediousness of time. I suffer nothing ■ like ennui. Time is too short for me rather than too long. If the day was forty-eight hours, instead of twenty-four, I could employ them all, if I had but eyes and hands to read and write.” In 1811 President Madison nominated Mr. Adams to a seat on the bench of the Supreme Court of the United States; but he declined Russian offer of mediation, to treat for peace, Mr. Adams was ap- pointed, with Mr. Gallatin and Mr. Bayard, to conduct the negotia- tions. The commissioners met at Ghent. Mr. Adams took the leading part. The Marquis of Wellesley, in commenting upon the treaty which was then entered into, said in the British House of Lords, — “ In my opinion, the American commissioners have shown the most astonishing superiority over the English during the whole of the correspondence.” From Ghent Mr. Adams went to Paris, where he chanced to be when the Emperor Napoleon returned from Elba and again took possession of the Tuileries. Mrs. Adams joined him here; and they proceeded together to London, he having been appointed min- ister to the British court. He arrived in London on the 25th of May, 1815. Taking up his residence in the country, about nine miles from London, he again resumed his vigorous habits of study, while at- tending energetically to his diplomatic duties, and receiving the attentions which his official station and his renown caused to be lavished upon him. Both Mr. and Mrs. Adams were honored with a private audience with the queen, and were present at the marriage of the Princess Charlotte with Leopold. The most eminent men of all classes sought Mr. Adams’s acquaintance. He had an interview with Mr. Canning, “in which the illustrious statesman,” says Mr. Adams, “ seemed desirous to make up by an excess of civility for the feelings he had so constantly manifested against us.” On the 4th of March, 1817, Mr. Monroe took the presidential chair, and immediately appointed Mr. Adams Secretary of State. Taking leave of his numerous friends in public and private life in Europe, he sailed in June, 1817, for the United States. On the JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 195 18th of August he again crossed the threshold of his home in Quincy, and, after an absence of eight years, received the embraces of his venerable father and mother, whom he found in perfect health. After a short visit home, he repaired to Washington, and entered upon his new duties, as thoroughly prepared for them, in ability, education, and experience, as one could be. During the eight years of Mr. Monroe’s administration, Mr. Adams continued Secretary of State. Few will now contradict the assertion, that the duties of that office were never more ably discharged. Probably the most important measure which Mr. Adams conducted was the purchase of Florida from Spain for five million dollars. Some time before the close of Mr. Monroe’s second term of office, new candidates began to be presented for the presidency. The friends of Mr. Adams brought forward his name, urging in his favor the unblemished purity of his character, his abilities and ac- quirements, the distinguished services he had rendered his country, and his extraordinary familiarity with all our foreign and domestic relations. It was an exciting campaign. Party spirit was never more bitter. Two hundred and sixty-one electoral votes were cast. Andrew Jackson received ninety-nine ; John Quincy Adams, eighty-four ; William H. Crawford, forty-one ; Henry Clay, thirty-seven. As there was no choice by the people, the question went to the House of Representatives. Mr. Clay gave the vote of Kentucky to Mr. Adams, and he was elected. The friends of all the disappointed candidates now combined in a venomous and persistent assault upon Mr. Adams. There is noth- ing more disgraceful in the past history of our country than the abuse which was poured, in one uninterrupted stream, upon this high-minded, upright, patriotic man. There never was an adminis- tration more pure in principles, more conscientiously devoted to the best interests of the country, than that of John Quincy Adams ; and never, perhaps, was there an administration more unscrupu- lously and outrageously assailed. It throws a shade over one’s hopes of humanity thus to see patriotism of the most exalted character hunted down as though it were the vilest treason. Mr. Adams, with a mind enlarged by familiarity with all the governments of Europe, and with affections glowing with love for his own country, took his seat in the presidential chair, resolved not to know any 196 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. partisanship, but only to consult for the interests of the whole re- public. He refused to dismiss any man from office for his political views. Under his government, no man suffered for his political opinions. If he were a faithful officer, that was enough. Bitter must have been Mr. Adams’s disappointment to find that the nation could not appreciate such nobility of character and conduct. The four years that he occupied the presidential chair must have been years of anguish, imbittered by the reflection, that could he have stooped to the partisanship of dismissing from office every one who did not vote for him, and of filling every post at his disposal with those who would pledge themselves intensely to his support, he might perhaps have fought off his enemies, and have secured a re- election. Virtue does not always, in this world, triumph. Mr. Adams, in his public manners, was cold and repulsive; though it is said that with his personal friends he was at times very genial. In his public receptions and official intercourse he often appeared “ with a formal coldness, that froze like the approach to an iceberg.” This chilling address very seriously detracted from his popularity. When the result of the election which placed Mr. Adams in the presidential chair was known, the rival candidates, and especially their friends, experienced disappointment amounting to anguish. Mr. Cobb, one of the warmest partisans of Mr. Craw- ford, was afraid to call upon him with the announcement of his de- feat. He shrank from witnessing the shock of his chiefs disap- pointment. General Jackson was indignant, and he nursed his wrath in secret, while, externally, he appeared unconcerned and cheerful. A few days after the event, Mr. Cobb wrote to his friends, — “ The presidential election is over, and you will have heard the result. The clouds were black, and portentous of storms of no ordinary character. They broke in one horrid burst, and straight dispelled. Everything here is silent. The victors have no cause to rejoice. There was not a single window lighted on the occasion. A few free negroes shouted, ‘ Huzza for Mr. Adams ! ’ but they were not joined even by the cringing populace of this place. The disappointed submit in sullen silence. The friends of Jackson grumbled, at first, like the rumbling of distant thunder ; but the old man himself submitted without a change of countenance. Mr. Crawford’s friends changed not their looks. They command uni- versal respect. Crawford will return home, and we must do the JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 197 best we can with him. Should he and our friends wish that he should again go into the Senate, the way shall be open for him. I am sick and tired of everything here, and wish for nothing so much as private life. My ambition is dead.” The evening after the election Mr. Monroe held a presidential levee. All Washington crowded to the White House, eager to pay homage to the rising sun. Mr. S. G. Goodrich happened to be present, and with his graphic pen has described the scene : — “ I shall pass over,” he writes, “ other individuals present, only noting an incident which respects the two persons in the assembly, who, most of all others, engrossed the thoughts of the visitors, — Mr. Adams the elect, General Jackson the defeated. It chanced in the course of the evening that these two persons, involved in the throng, approached each other from opposite directions, yet without knowing it. Suddenly, as they were almost together, the persons around, seeing what was to happen, by a sort of instinct stepped aside, and left them face to face. Mr. Adams was by himself : General Jackson had a large, handsome lady on his arm. They looked at each other for a moment ; and then General Jackson moved forward, and, reaching out his long arm, said, ‘ How do you do, Mr. Adams ? I give you my left hand ; for the right, as you see, is devoted to the fair. I hope you are very well, sir.’ All this was gallantly and heartily said and done. Mr. Adams took the general’s hand, and said, with chilling coldness, ‘ Very well, sir ; I hope General Jackson is well.’ “It was curious to see the Western planter, the Indian fighter, the stern soldier, who had written his country’s glory in the blood of the enemy at New Orleans, genial and gracious in the midst of a court ; while the old corn-tier and diplomat was stiff, rigid, cold as a statue. It was all the more remarkable from the fact, that, four hours before, the former had been defeated, and the latter was the victor, in a struggle for one of the highest objects of human ambition. The personal character of these two individuals was, in fact, well ex- pressed in that chance-meeting, — the gallantry, the frankness, the heartiness, of the one, which captivated all ; the coldness, the dis- tance, the self-concentration, of the other, which repelled all.” No one can read the impartial record of John Quincy Adams’s administration without admitting that a more noble example of un- compromising integrity can scarcely be found. It was stated pub- 198 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. licly that Mr. Adams’s administration was to be put down, “though it be as pure as the angels which stand at the right hand of the throne of God.” Not a few of the active participants in those scenes lived to regret the course they pursued. Some years after, Mr. Warren R. Davis of South Carolina, turning to Mr. Adams, then a member of the House of Representatives, said, — “Well do I remember the enthusiastic zeal with which we re- proached the administration of that gentleman, and the ardor and vehemence with which we labored to bring in another. For the share I had in those transactions, — and it was not a small one, — I hope God will forgive me ; for 1 never shall forgive myself.'" Mr. Adams was, to a very remarkable degree, abstemious and temperate in his habits ; always rising early, and taking much exer- cise. When at his home in Quincy, he has been known to walk seven miles to Boston before breakfast. In Washington, it was said that he was the first man up in the city, lighting his own fire, and applying himself to work in his libraxy often long before the dawn. He was an expert swimmer, and was exceedingly fond of bathing ; and was in the habit in the summer, every morning, of plunging into the Potomac with all the sportiveness of a boy. He sometimes made the journey from Quincy to Washington on horseback, accom- panied by a single attendant. On the 4th of March, 1829, Mr. Adams retired from the presi- dency, and was succeeded by Andrew Jackson. John C. Calhoun was elected Vice-President. The slavery question now began to assume portentous magnitude. Mr. Adams returned to Quincy and to his studies, which he pursued with unabated zeal. But he was not long permitted to remain in retirement. In November, 1830, he was elected representative to Congress. He thus recognized the Roman principle, that it is honorable for the general of yesterday to act as corporal to-day, if by so doing he can render service to his country. Deep as are the obligations of our republic to John Quincy Adams for his services as ambassador, as Secretary of State, and as President, in his capacity as legislator in the House of Rep- resentatives he conferred benefits upon our land which eclipsed all the rest, and which can never be overestimated. For seventeen years, until his death, he occupied the post of rep- resentative, towering above all his peers, ever ready to do brave battle for freedom, and winning the title of “the old man eloquent.” ( JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 199 Upon taking his seat in the house, he announced that he should hold himself bound to no party. Probably there was never a member of the house more devoted to his duties. He was usually the first in his place in the morning, and the last to leave his seat in the even- ing. Not a measure could be brought forward, and escape his scru- tiny. The battle which Mr. Adams fought, almost singly, against the proslavery party in the government, was sublime in its moral daring and heroism. For persisting in presenting petitions for the abolition of slavery, he was threatened with indictment by the grand jury, with expulsion from the house, with assassination ; but no threats could intimidate him, and his final triumph was complete. On one occasion Mr. Adams presented a petition, signed by sev- eral women, against the annexation of Texas for the purpose of cutting it up into slave States. Mr. Howard of Maryland said that these women discredited not only themselves, but their section of the country, by turning from their domestic duties to the conflicts of political life. “Are women,” exclaimed Mr. Adams, “to have no opinions or actions on subjects relating to the general welfare? Where did the gentleman get this principle ? Did he find it in sacred history, — in the language of Miriam the prophetess, in one of the noblest and most sublime songs of triumph that ever met the human eye or ear ? Did the gentleman never hear of Deborah, to whom the chil- dren of Israel came up for judgment ? Has he forgotten the deed of Jael, who slew the dreaded enemy of her country? Has he forgotten Esther, who by her petition saved her people and her country ? “ To go from sacred history to profane, does the gentleman there find it ‘ discreditable ’ for women to take an interest in political affairs ? Has he forgotten the Spartan mother, who said to her son, when going out to battle, ‘ My son, come back to me with thy shield, or upon thy shield ? ’ Does he not remember Cloelia and her hun- dred companions, who swam across the river, under a shower of darts escaping from Porsena? Has he forgotten Cornelia, the mother of the Gracchi? Does he not remember Portia, the wife of Brutus and the daughter of Cato ? “ To come to later periods, what says the history of our Anglo- Saxon ancestors ? To say nothing of Boadicea, the British heroine in the time of the Caesars, what name is more illustrious than that 200 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. of Elizabeth ? Or, if he will go to the Continent, will he not find the names of Maria Theresa of Hungary, of the two Catharines of Russia, and of Isabella of Castille, the patroness of Columbus. Did she bring c discredit ’ on her sex by mingling in politics ? ” In this glowing strain, he silenced and overwhelmed his antago- nists. Congress, yielding to the proslavery spirit of the South, passed a resolve in January, 1837, “that all petitions relating to slavery, without being printed or referred, shall be laid on the table, and no action shall be had thereon.” Some of the proslavery party forged a petition, as if from slaves, to see if Mr. Adams would dare to present it. On the 6th of February, 1837, Mr. Adams rose with this forged petition in his hand, and said, “ I hold a paper purporting to come from slaves. I wish to know if such a paper comes within the order of the house respecting petitions.” The strange sensitiveness of the house upon this subject may be inferred from the fact, that a storm of indignation was instantly roused. Waddy Thompson of South Carolina, Charles E. Haynes of Georgia, Dixon H. Lewis of Alabama, sprang to the floor, pre- senting resolutions, “ that John Quincy Adams, by attempting to present a petition purporting to be from slaves, has been guilty of gross disrespect to the house, and that he be instantly brought to the bar to receive the severe censure of the speaker.” Never were assailants more thoroughly discomfited. “Mr. Speaker,” said Mr. Adams, “ to prevent the consumption of time, I ask the gentlemen to modify their resolution a little, so that, when I come to the bar of the house, I may not, by a word, put an end to it. I did not present the petition. I said that I had a paper pur- porting to be a petition from slaves ; and I asked the speaker whether he considered such a paper as included in the general order of the house, that all petitions relating to slavery should be laid upon the table. I intended to take the decision of the speaker before I went one step toward presenting that petition. This is the fact. “I adhere to the right of petition. Where is your law which says the mean, the low, the degraded, shall be deprived of the right of petition ? Petition is supplication, entreaty, prayer. Where is the degree of vice or immorality which shall deprive the citizen of the right to supplicate for a boon, or to pray for mercy ? Where is JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 201 such a law to be found ? It does not belong to the most abject despotism. There is no absolute monarch on earth, who is not compelled, by the constitution of his country, to receive the peti- tions of his people, whosoever they may be. The Sultan of Con- stantinople cannot walk the streets, and refuse to receive petitions from the meanest and vilest in the land. The right of petition be- longs to all ; and, so far from refusing to present a petition because it might come from those low in the estimation of the world, it would be an additional incentive, if such an incentive were want- ing.” After a debate of extreme bitterness, running through four days, only twenty votes could be found to cast any censure upon Mr. Adams. There was perhaps never a fiercer battle fought in legis- lative halls than Mr. Adams waged, for nearly a score of years, with the partisans of slavery in Congress. In every encounter he came off victor. We have not space, in this brief sketch, to refer to his labors to secure a right appropriation for the Smithsonian Fund of half a million of dollars. At the age of seventy-four he appeared in the Supreme Court of the United States, after an absence from that court of thirty years, to plead the cause of a few friendless negroes, the Amistad captives, who, with their own strong arms, had freed themselves from the man-stealers. His effort was crowned with complete success ; and the poor Africans, abundantly furnished with the implements of civilized life, were returned to the homes from which they had been so ruthlessly torn. In 1839 Congress was for a time seriously disorganized in conse- quence of two delegations appearing from New Jersey, each claim- ing the election. By usage, the clerk of the preceding Congress, on the first assembling, acts as chairman until a speaker is chosen. When, in calling the roll, the clerk came to New Jersey, he stated that, as the five seats of the members from that State were con- tested, he should pass over those names. A violent debate ensued. For four days there was anarchy, and it was found impossible to organize the house. Mr. Adams, during all this scene of confusion, sat quietly engaged in writing, apparently taking no interest in the debate, but, like a sagacious general on the battlefield, watch- ing intently for the moment when he could effectually make a movement. On the morning of the fourth day, the clerk again commenced calling the roll. When he reached New Jersey, he again repeated, 202 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. “as these seats are contested,” when Mr. Adams sprang to the floor, and in clear, shrill tones, which penetrated every portion of the house, cried out, — “ I rise to interrupt the clerk.” A multitude of voices shouted, “Hear him! hear him! — hear John Quincy Adams ! ” In an instant, there was profound silence. Every eye was riv- eted upon that venerable old man, whose years and honors, and purity of character, commanded the respect of the bitterest of his foes. For a moment he paused ; and there was such stillness that the fall of a sheet of paper might have been heard. Then, in those tones of intensity which ever arrested the attention of the house, he said, — “ It was not my intention to take any part in these extraordinary proceedings. I had hoped that this house would succeed in organ- izing itself. This is not the time or place to discuss the merits of conflicting claimants : that subject belongs to the House of Repre- sentatives. What a spectacle we here present ! We do not and cannot organize ; and why ? Because the clerk of this house — the mere clerk, whom we create, whom we employ — usurps the throne , and sets us, the vicegerents of the whole American people, at de- fiance. And what is this clerk of yours ? Is he to suspend, by his mere negative, the functions of government, and put an end to this Congress. He refuses to call the roll. It is in your power to com- pel him to call it, if he will not do it voluntarily.” Here he was interrupted by a member, who stated that the clerk could not be compelled to call the roll, as he would resign rather than do so. “ Well sir, let him resign,” continued Mr. Adams, “ and we may possibly discover some way by which we can get along without the aid of his all-powerful talent, learning, and genius. If we cannot organize in any other way, if this clerk of yours will not consent to our discharging the trust confided to us by our constituents, then let us imitate the example of the Virginia House of Burgesses, which, when the colonial Governor Dinwiddle ordered it to dis- perse, refused to obey the imperious and insulting mandate, and like men ” — Here there was such a burst of applause from the whole house, that, for a moment, his voice was drowned. Cheer upon cheer rose, shaking the walls of the Capitol. As soon as he could again JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 203 be heard, he submitted a motion, requiring the clerk to call the roll. “How shall the question be put? ” The voice of Mr. Adams was heard rising above the tumult, as he cried out, “ I intend to put the question myself ! ” Another burst of applause followed ; when Mr. Barnwell Rhett of South Carolina leaped upon one of the desks, and shouted, “ I move that the Hon. John Quincy Adams take the chair of the speaker of the house, and officiate as presiding officer till the house JOHN QUINCY ADAMS IN THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES. be organized by the election of its constitutional officers. As many as are agreed to this will say ‘ Ay ! ’ ” One universal, thundering “ Ay ! ” came back in response. Mr. Adams was conducted to the chair, and the house was organized. Mr. Wise of Virginia, soon after addressing him, said, — “ Sir, I regard it as the proudest hour of your life ; and if, when you shall be gathered to your fathers, I were asked to select the words which, in my judgment, are best calculated to give at once the character of the man, I would inscribe upon your tomb this sentence, ‘ I will put the question myself/ ” 204 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. In January, 1842, Mr. Adams presented a petition from forty- five citizens of Haverhill, Mass., praying for the peaceable dissolu- tion of the Union. The proslavery party in Congress, who were then plotting the destruction of the government, were roused to a pretense of commotion such as even our stormy hall of legislation has rarely witnessed. They met in caucus, and, finding that they probably would not be able to expel Mr. Adams from the house, drew up a series of resolutions, which, if adopted, would inflict upon him disgrace equivalent to expulsion. Mr. Adams had pre- sented the petition, which was most respectfully worded, and had moved that it be referred to a committee instructed to report an answer, showing the reasons why the prayer ought not to be granted. It was the 25th of January. The whole body of the proslavery party came crowding together into the house, prepared to crush Mr. Adams forever. One of their number, Thomas F. Marshall of Kentucky, was appointed to read the resolutions, which accused Mr. Adams of high treason, of having insulted the government, and of meriting expulsion ; but for which deserved punishment, the house, in its great mercy, would substitute its severest censure. With the assumption of a very solemn and magisterial air, there being breathless silence in the imposing audience, Mr. Marshall hurled the carefully prepared anathemas at his victim. Mr. Adams stood alone, the whole proslavery party madly against him. As soon as the resolutions were read, every eye being fixed upon him, up rose that bold old man, whose scattered locks were whit- ened by seventy-five years ; and casting a withering glance in the direction of his assailants, in a clear, shrill tone, tremulous with suppressed emotion, he said, — “In reply to this audacious, atrocious charge of high treason, I call for the reading of the first paragraph of the Declaration of Independence. Read it, read it ! and see what that says of the right of a people to reform, to change, and to dissolve their gov- ernment.” The attitude, the manner, the tone, the words ; the venerable old man, with flashing eye and flushed cheek, and whose very form seemed to expand under the inspiration of the occasion, — all pre- sented a scene overawing in its sublimity. There was breathless silence as that paragraph was read, in defense of whose principles our fathers had pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 205 honor. It was a proud hour to Mr. Adams, as they were all com- pelled to listen to the words, — “ That, to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, and that, whenever any form of government becomes destructive of those ends, it is the right of the people to alter or abolish it, and to institute new government, laying its foundations on such princi- ples, and organizing its powers in such form, as shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness.” That one sentence baffled and routed the foe. The heroic old man looked around upon the audience, and thundered out, “ Read that again ? ” It was again read. Then, in a few fiery, logical words, he stated his defense in terms which even prejudiced minds could not resist. His discomfited assailants made sundry attempts to rally. After a conflict of eleven days they gave up vanquished, and their resolution was ignominiously laid upon the table. It is pleasant to see that such heroism is eventually appreciated. In the summer of 1843 Mr. Adams took a tour through western New York. His journey was a perfect ovation. In all the leading cities he was received with the highest marks of consideration. The whole mass of the people rose to confer honor upon the man who had battled so nobly for human rights, and whose public and pri- vate character was without a stain. The greeting which he received at Buffalo was such as that city had never before conferred upon any man. The national flag was floating from every masthead. The streets were thronged with the multitude, who greeted with bursts of applause the renowned patriot and statesman as soon as he appeared. The Hon. Millard Fillmore, subsequently President of the United States, welcomed him in the following words: — “You see here assembled the people of our infant city, without distinction of party, sex, age, or condition, — all, all, anxiously vy- ing with each other to show their respect and esteem for your pub- lic and private worth. Here are gathered, in this vast multitude of what must appear to you strange faces, thousands whose hearts have vibrated to the chord of sympathy which your speeches have touched. Here is reflecting age and ardent youth and lisping child- hood, to all of whom your venerated name is dear as household words, — all anxious to feast their eyes by a sight of that extraordi- nary and venerable man, that old man eloquent, upon whose lips Wisdom has distilled her choicest nectar. Here you see them all, 206 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. and read in their eager and joy-gladdened countenances and brightly beaming eyes, a welcome, a thrice-told, heartfelt, soul-stirring wel- come, to the man whom they delight to honor.” In January, 1846, when seventy-eight years of age, he took part in the great debate on the Oregon question, displaying intellectual vigor, and an extent and accuracy of acquaintance with the subject, which excited great admiration. At the close of the session, on the 17th of November, he had an attack of paralysis while walking in the streets of Boston. He, however, so far recovered, that he soon resumed his official duties in Washington. As he entered the house on the 16th of February, 1847, for the first time since his illness, every member instinctively rose in token of respect ; and by two members he was formally conducted to his seat. After this, though constantly present, he took but little part in the debates. It has been said of President Adams, that when his body was bent and his hair silvered by the lapse of fourscore years, yielding to the simple faith of a little child, he was accustomed to repeat every night, before he slept, the prayer which his mother taught him in his infant years. There is great moral beauty in the aspect of the venerable, world-worn statesman, folding his hands and clos- ing his eyes, as he repeated, in the simplicity and sincerity of child- hood, the words, — “ Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep : If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.” On the 21st of February, 1848, he rose on the floor of Congress, with a paper in his hand, to address the speaker. Suddenly he fell, again stricken by paralysis, and was caught in the arms of those around him. For a time he was senseless, as he was conveyed to a sofa in the rotunda. With reviving consciousness he opened his eyes, looked calmly around, and said, ‘■'■This is the end of earth;” then, after a moment’s pause, he added, U I am content .” These were his last words. His family were summoned to his side ; and in the apartment of the speaker of the house, beneath the dome of the Capitol, — the theatre of his labors and his triumphs, — he soon breathed his last. The voices of denunciation were now hushed, and all parties united in tributes of honor to one of the purest patriots, and one of the most distinguished statesmen, America has produced. CHAPTER VII. ANDREW JACKSON. Birth and Education. — A Bad Boy. — Keeps School. — Studies Law. — Emigrates. — Frontier Life. — Low Tastes. — A Representative. — Senator. — Judge. — Shop-keeper. — Major- General. — Quarrels and Duels. —Marriage and its Romance. — Fight with the Bentons. — M ar with the Indians. — Defense of New Orleans. — Passion and Violence. — Presi- dent of the United States. — Administration. — Retirement. — Conversion. — Religious Character. — Death. “ Paint me as I am,” said Cromwell to the young artist. There were lights and shades in the character of Andrew Jackson, and HERMITAGE, — RESIDENCE OF ANDREW JACKSON. the world wishes to know him as he was. One hundred years ago, in 1765, an Irishman of Scotch descent, extremely poor, emigrated, with his wife and two infant children, from the North of Ireland 208 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. to South Carolina. George III. had then been five years on his throne. The old French war, which gave Canada to England, had just ended. The humble emigrants had no money to purchase land. They, however, landing at Charleston, penetrated the wild interior, in a northwest direction, a hundred and sixty miles, and built their log hut on a branch of the Catawba River, called Wax- haw Creek, formerly the seat of the Waxhaw Indians. They were on the boundar}--line between the Carolinas. The lonely settlers in this wilderness of pines had reared their cabin, cleared an opening in the forest, and raised one crop, when the husband and father fell sick and died. Mrs. Jackson, with her two little boys, and just on the eve of again becoming a mother, was thus left in utter destitution. Not far from the cabin of the deceased there was a room built of logs, called a church. The corpse was taken in a wagon ; the widow and her two children sat by its side ; and in a field near by the body was buried, no one can now tell where. The grief-stricken widow did not return to her desolated home. There was nothing to draw her there. From the grave she drove a few miles to the cabin of Mr. McKenney, who had married her sister, and who lived across the border, in North Carolina. There, in that lonely log hut, in the extreme of penury, with a few friendly women to come to her aid, she, within a few days, gave birth to Andrew Jackson, the child whose fame as a man has filled the civil- ized world. It was the 15th of March, 1767. A few lines tell this story. But where is the pencil or the pen which can deline- ate its true pathos ? — the cabin, the pain-crushed, heart-stricken mother, the clotheless babe, the coarse fare, the penury, the wild surroundings, and the cheerlessness with which the dark future opened before the widow and the orphans. Could some good angel then have opened to that Christian mother (for she was a true Christian of the Presbyterian faith) the future career of her son, — his renown, his influence, his conversion to Christ, his triumphant death, and that honor, glory, and immor- tality to which we trust he has attained in the spirit-land, — she might have smiled through her anguish, and exclaimed, “ These light afflictions are indeed but for a moment, and work out for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.” Mother and child have long ago met in heaven, and earthly griefs are gone forever. ANDREW JACKSON. 209 Three weeks after the birth of Andrew, the widow, leaving her eldest little boy with Mr. McKenney, went with the babe and the other child a distance of two miles to the cabin of another brother- in-law, Mr. Crawford, whose wife was an invalid. Here Mrs. Jack- son remained with her children for ten years, receiving the hospi- tality of her kind brother, and repaying it, as far as possible, by that hard work of washing, mending, and cooking which is inseparable from frontier life. Andrew, or Andy as he was universally called, grew up a very rough, rude, turbulent boy. His features were coarse, his form ungainly ; and there was but very little in his character, made visible, which was attractive. A companion said of him, “ Andy is the only bully I ever knew who was not a coward.” A mother’s prayers must have been ascending earnestly for him ; for even then, in her utter penury, she was endeavoring to devise some way by which she could educate him for the Christian ministry. When five or six years of age he was sent to what was called a school, in a wretched log pen about twenty feet square. Here he learned to read tolerably well. Spelling was an art which he never attained. He learned to write in characters which those skillful in hieroglyphics could read. He also became somewhat familiar with the four fundamental rules of arithmetic. This seems to be about the substance of all the school education he ever received. He grew up to be a tall, lank boy, with coarse hair and freckled cheeks, with bare feet dangling from trousers too short for him, very fond of athletic sports, running, boxing, wrestling. He was gener- ous to the younger and weaker boys, but very irascible and over- bearing with his equals and superiors. He was profane, marvel- ously profane, — a vice in which he surpassed all other men, and which clung to him until, after the age of threescore years, he learned of Christ to “ swear not at all.” The character of his mother he revered ; and it was not until after her death that his predominant vices gained full strength. Through some unknown influence, he imbibed such a reverence for the char- acter of woman, and such firm principles of purity, that in that re- spect he was without reproach. When nine years of age the Declaration of Independence was signed. The billows of war soon swept down into the Carolinas, bringing terror, blood, and desolation to the humble cabins of the 14 210 LIVES OF TEE PRESIDENTS. Waxhaw. More intense was the animosity, and more bitter the strife, between the patriot and the Tory, than between the armies which were facing each other in the field. As Tarleton and his dragoons came thundering along, the older brother, Hugh, not yet eighteen years of age, rode with a volunteer company to meet him, and died of heat and exhaustion at the battle of Stono. With three hundred horsemen, Tarleton surprised a detachment of militia at the Waxhaw settlement, killed One hundred and thir- teen, wounded one hundred and fifty, and captured or put to flight all the rest. The old log meeting-house was used as a hospital. Mrs. Jackson was unwearied in nursing the wounded soldiers. Andrew, a boy of thirteen, and his brother, assisted their mother in these works of mercy. Andrew at times expressed the most intense desire to avenge their wounds and his brother’s death. In August, 1780, the victorious army of Cornwallis rushed upon Waxhaw ; and Mrs. Jackson, with her two boys, fled before them. Andrew was placed in the family of Mrs. Wilson, in Charlotte, where he paid for his board by being a servant of all work. Here his rage against the British found vent in forming various kinds of weapons, which he would swing, expressing the delight it would give him thus to beat the British down. He remained in this place for about six months, and then the family returned to their ravaged home at Waxhaw. Andrew was now fourteen, tall as a man, but slender and weak from his rapid growth. Terrible was the maddened strife in that neighborhood between Whig and Tory. A band of To^ ries made a midnight attack upon the house of a Whig. Andrew Jackson was there as one of the guard. Quite a little battle ensued, in which he behaved gallantly, and the Tories were repulsed. This was the first time he took part in active service. Cornwallis sent a body of dragoons to aid the Tories. They surrounded the patriots, routed them with slaughter, and Andrew and his brother were taken prisoners. A British officer ordered him to brush his mud-spattered boots. “ I am a prisoner of war, not your servant,” was the reply of the dauntless boy. The brute drew his sword, and aimed a desperate blow at the head of the helpless young prisoner. Andrew raised his hand, and thus received two fearful gashes, — one upon his hand, and the other upon his head. The officer then turned to his brother Robert with the same demand. He also refused, and received a blow from the ANDRE W JACKSON. 211 keen-edged sabre, which quite disabled him, and which probably soon after caused his death. The two wounded boys, one fourteen and the other sixteen, with twenty other prisoners, were hurried off to Camden in South Caro- lina, forty miles distant, where the British were in strength. Their brutal captors allowed them no food or water by the way, and would not even permit them to drink from the streams they forded. At Camden they were thrown into a contracted inclosure, without beds, medical attendance, or any means of dressing their wounds. Their supply of food was scanty and bad. Days and nights of misery passed away. The small-pox, in its most loathsome form, broke out. The dying and the dead were all together. Mrs. Jack- son, hearing of the sufferings of her boys, hastened to their relief. There was resistless energy in a mother’s love. She succeeded in obtaining the release of her sons by exchange, and gazed horror- stricken upon their wan and wasted frames. Having obtained two horses, she placed Robert, who was too weak to stand, or even to sit in his saddle, upon one, where he was held in his seat by some of the returning prisoners. Mrs. Jackson rode the other. Andrew, bareheaded, barefooted, clothed in rags, sick even then with the small-pox, and so weak that he could scarcely drag one limb after the other, toiled painfully behind. Thus they made their journey through the wilderness for forty miles, — from Camden back to W axhaw. Before this sad family reached their home, a drenching rain-storm set in. The mother at length got her sons, both sick of small-pox, home and to bed. In two days Robert was dead, and Andrew ap- parently dying in the wildest ravings of delirium. The strength of his constitution triumphed ; and, after months of languor, he re- gained health and strength. As he was getting better, his mother heard the cry of anguish from the prisoners whom the British held in Charleston, among whom were the sons of her sisters. She hastened to their relief, was attacked by fever, died, and was buried where her grave could never afterwards be found. A small bundle of the clothing which she wore was the only memorial of his mother which was returned to her orphan boy. Thus Andrew Jackson, when fourteen years of age, was left alone in the world, without father, mother, sister, or brother, and without one dollar which he could call his own. 212 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. Before Andrew had fully recovered his strength, he entered a shop to learn the trade of a saddler, and for six months labored diligently in this calling. But gradually, as health returned, he became more and more a wild, reckless, lawless boy. He drank, gambled, fought cocks, and was regarded as about the worst char- acter that could anywhere be found. In December, 1782, the Brit- ish having evacuated Charleston, Andrew, who by some means had come into possession of a fine horse, mounted him, and rode through the wilderness to Charleston. Having no money, he soon ran up a long bill at the tavern. One evening, as he was strolling the streets, he entered a gambling-house, and was challenged to stake his horse against two hundred dollars. He won. With this money he set- tled his bill, mounted his horse, and rode home through the solitary pine-barrens, reflecting not very pleasantly upon the past, and form- ing plans for the future. He now turned school-master. A school in a log hut in those wilds was a very humble institution. Andrew Jackson could teach the alphabet, perhaps the multiplication-table ; and, as he was a very bold boy, it is not impossible that he might have adventured to teach handwriting. And now he began to think of a profession, and decided to study law. With a very slender purse, and on the back of a very fine horse, he set out for Salisbury, N. C., a distance of about seventy-five miles, where he entered the law office of Mr. McCay. Andrew was then eighteen years of age. Here he re- mained for two years, professedly studying law. He is still vividly remembered in the traditions of Salisbury, which traditions say, — “Andrew Jackson was the most roaring, rollicking, game-cock- ing, horse-racing, card-playing, mischievous fellow that ever lived in Salisbury. He did not trouble the law-books much. He was more in the stable than in the office. He was the head of all the rowdies hereabouts.” Andrew was now, at the age of twenty, a tall young man, stand- ing six feet and an inch in his stockings. He was very slender, but remarkably dignified and graceful in his manners, an exquisite horse- man, and developing, amidst his loathsome profanity and multiform vices, a vein of rare magnanimity. His temper was fiery in the ex- treme ; but it was said of him, that no man knew better than An- drew Jackson when to get angry, and when not. He was fond of all rough adventures, wild riding, camping out ; loved a horse pas- ANDREW JACKSON. 213 sionately ; and, though sagacious and prudent, was bold in facing danger. The experience through which he had passed in the Rev- olution had made him a very stanch republican. He had now got his profession. Again mounting his horse, he rode to Martinsville, N. C., where it seems that he spent a year as a clerk in a country store, waiting for an opportunity to open an office somewhere. The whole of that region which we now call Tennessee was then almost an unexplored wilderness, called Wash- ington County, N. C. It was ranged by bands of Indians, who had been so outraged by vagabonds among the whites that they had become bitterly hostile. Ravaged by Indian wars, it became a burden to North Carolina, and was ceded to Congress. There was a small settlement of pioneers, five hundred miles west of the sum- mit of the Allegbanies, near the present site of Nashville, on the banks of the Cumberland. Jonesborough was another small settle- ment in East Tennessee, near the western base of the Alleghanies. The intervening space was a wilderness, which could only be trav- ersed by parties well guarded, to repel attacks to which they were constantly exposed. Andrew Jackson was appointed public prosecutor for the remote district of Nashville. It was an office of little honor, small emolu- ment, and great peril. Few men could be found to accept it. Early in the spring of 1788 Jackson joined a party of emigrants, who rendezvoused at Morgantown, the last frontier settlement in North Carolina. They were all mounted on horseback, with their baggage on pack-horses. In double file, the long cavalcade crossed the mountains by an Indian trail, which had widened into a road. Each night they camped in the open air. The journey of a few days brought them, without adventure, to Jonesborough, where there was a small settlement of about sixty log huts. They were now to enter the wilderness, which, for a distance of over two hun- dred miles, was filled with hostile bands of savages. There they waited several weeks for the arrival of other parties of emigrants, and for a guard from Nashville to escort them. Nearly one hun- dred composed the cavalcade, which included many women and children. One night, after a march of thirty-six hours, with only a halt of one short hour, they encamped at a point which was thought to be the most safe in the midst of the most perilous part of the journey. 214 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. The women and children at an early hour, in utter exhaustion, had crept into their little tents. The men, with their blankets wrapped around them, were sleeping under the shelter of logs, with their feet toward the fire. The sentinels, with their muskets, were si- lently and sleepily standing on the watch. Andrew Jackson had retired a little apart from the rest, and sitting upon the ground, with bis back against a tree, was smoking a corn-cob pipe. Lost in silent musing, at ten o’clock, just as he was beginning to fall asleep, his attention was arrested by the various notes of the owls hooting in the forest around him. Just then he was startled by a louder hoot than usual very near the camp. Instantly suspicion flashed upon his mind. Grasping his rifle, and with all his faculties on the alert, he crept along to where a friend was sleeping, and startled him with the announcement, “ There are Indians all around us ! I have heard them in every direction ! They mean to attack us before daybreak ! ” The experienced woodsmen were aroused. They listened, and were fully confirmed in the same suspicion. Silently they broke up their camp, and, with the utmost caution, resumed their march. An hour after they had left, a party of hunters came, and occupied the spot. Before the day dawned, the Indians sprang from their ambush upon them, and all but one were killed. Andrew Jack- son’s sagacity had saved his party. Late in October, 1788, this long train of emigrants reached Nash- ville. They took with them the exciting news that the new Con- stitution had been accepted by a majority of the States, and that George Washington would undoubtedly be elected the first Presi- dent. It was estimated that then, in this outpost of civilization, there were scattered, in logs huts clustered along the banks of the Cumberland, about five thousand souls. The Indians were so act- ive in their hostilities that it was not safe for any one to live far from the stockade. Every man took his rifle with him to the field. Children could not go out to gather berries unless accompanied by a guard. Nashville had its aristocracy. Mrs. Donelson belonged to one of the first families. She was the widow of Colonel John Donelson, and lived in a cabin of hewn logs, the most commodious dwelling in the place. She had a beautiful, mirth-loving daughter, who had ANDREW JACKSON. 215 married a very uncongenial Kentuckian, Lewis Robards, of whom but little that is good can be said. She and her husband lived with her widowed mother, and Andrew Jackson was received into the family as a boarder. It was an attractive home for him. Of the gay and lively Mrs. Robards it is said that she was then the best story-teller, the best dancer, the sprightliest companion, the most dashing horsewoman, in the western country. And now Andrew Jackson commenced vigorously the practice of law. It was an important part of his business to collect debts. It required nerve. Many desperate men carried pistols and knives. There were some disputed claims to adjust. A court-house in that country, at that time, consisted of a hut of unhewn logs, without floor, door, or window. Long journeys through the wilderness were necessary to reach the distant cabins where the courts were held. During the first seven years of his residence in those wilds, he trav- ersed the almost pathless forest between Nashville and Jones- borough, a distance of two hundred miles, twenty-two times. Hos- tile Indians were constantly on the watch, and a man was liable at any moment to be shot down in his own field. Andrew Jackson was just the man for this service, — a wild, rough, daring backwoods- man. He sometimes camped in the woods for twenty successive, nights, not daring to shoot a deer, or to kindle a fire, lest he should attract the attention of some roving band of savages. One night, after dark, he came to a creek, swollen by the rains to a roaring torrent. It was pitch-dark, and the rain was falling in floods. He could not ford the stream ; he dared not light a fire ; it was not safe to let his horse move about to browse. He took off the saddle, placed it at the foot of a tree, and sat upon it ; wrapped his blanket over his shoulders ; held his bridle in one hand, and his rifle in the other ; and thus, drenched with rain, and listening to the wail of the storm and the rush of the torrent, waited the dawn. He then mounted his horse, swam the creek, and proceeded on his journey. “ You see how near,” Andrew Jackson once said, “ I can graze danger ! ” Daily he was making hair-breadth escapes. He seemed to bear a charmed life. Boldly, alone, or with few companions, he traversed the forests, encountering all perils, and triumphing over all. Mrs. Robards and her husband lived unhappily together. He 216 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. was jealous of her, but, in the judgment of all acquainted with the facts, without any cause. Before Mr. Jackson’s arrival, he had once, from his jealous disposition, separated from her. Andrew Jackson was an exceedingly polite, gallant, fascinating man with ladies. Captain Robards became jealous of Jackson, and treated Mrs. Ro- bards with great cruelty. Jackson decided, in consequence, to leave the house, but determined first to have a little conversation with Mr. Robards. He found the man abusive and unrelenting ; and Mr. Jackson, offering to meet him in a duel if he desired it, retired from the family, and took board in another place. Soon after this, Mr. and Mrs. Robards separated. The affair caused Andrew Jackson great uneasiness ; for though he knew that the parties had separated once before, and though conscious of innocence, he found himself to be the unfortunate cause of the present scandal. It was rumored that Captain Robards, who had gone to Kentucky, was about to return. A friend of Andrew Jackson, subsequently Judge Overton, who was then his intimate companion, writes, that, perceiving Mr. Jackson to be much depressed, he inquired the cause. The reply was, — “ I am the most unhappy of men, in having innocently and unin- tentionally been the cause of the loss of peace and happiness of Mrs. Robards, whom I believe to be a fine woman.” To escape from the persecutions of her husband, she decided to go to Natchez with the family of an elderly gentleman, Colonel Stark. As there was great danger from the Indians, Colonel Stark entreated Mr. Jackson to accompany them as a guard. He did so, and re- turned to Nashville. This was in the spring of 1791. Captain Robards applied to the Legislature of Virginia for a bill of divorce. It was granted by an act of the Legislature, provided that the Supreme Court should adjudge that there was cause for such divorce. Robards laid aside this act, and did nothing about it for two years. Virginia was far away. The transmission of intelligence was very slow. It was announced in Nashville that Robards had obtained a divorce. This was universally believed. No one doubted it. Mrs. Robai'ds believed it : Andrew Jackson believed it. In- fluenced by this belief, Andrew Jackson and Rachel Robards were married in the fall of 1791. No one acquainted thoroughly with the parties and the facts doubted of the purity of the connection. Two years after this, Mr. and Mrs. Jackson learned, to their ANDREW JACKSON. 217 great surprise, that Robards had just obtained a divorce in one of the courts of Kentucky, and that the act of the Virginia Legislature was not final, but conditional. Thus Mr. Jackson had, in reality, been married for two years to another man’s wife, though neither he nor Mrs. Jackson had been guilty of the slightest intentional wrong. To remedy the irregularity as far as possible, a new license was obtained, and the marriage ceremony was again performed. . It proved to be a marriage of rare felicity. Probably there never was a more affectionate union. However rough Mr. Jackson might have been abroad, he was always gentle and tender at home ; and through all the vicissitudes of their lives, he treated Mrs. Jack- son with the most chivalric attentions. He was always very sensi- tive upon the question of his marriage. No one could breathe a word which reflected a suspicion upon the purity of this affair but at the risk of pistol-shot instantly through his brain. The country was rapidly prospering. The Indians were quelled, and thousands of emigrants were pouring into the inviting territory. Mr. Jackson, purchasing large tracts of land, and selling lots to set- tlers, was becoming rich. The following anecdote, which he related when President, sheds light upon his own character and upon the times. A friend in Washington was expecting to be assailed in the streets by a political opponent : — “Now,” said the general to him, “if any man attacks you, I know how you ’ll fight him with that big black stick of yours. You ’ll aim right for his head. Well, sir, ten chances to one he will ward it off ; and, if you do hit him, you won’t bring him down. No, sir” (taking the stick into his own hands) ; “ you hold the stick so, and punch him in the stomach, and you ’ll drop him. I ’ll tell you how I found that out. “ When I was a young man, practicing law in Tennessee, there was a big, bullying fellow -that wanted to pick a quarrel with me, and so trod on my toes. Supposing it accidental, I said nothing. Soon after, he did it again; and I began to suspect his object. In a few minutes he came by a third time, pushing against me vio- lently, and evidently meaning fight. He was a man of immense size, — one of the very biggest men I ever saw. As quick as a flash, I snatched a small rail from the top of the fence, and gave him the point of it full in the stomach. Sir, it doubled him up. He fell at my feet, and I stamped on him. Soon he got up savage , and was 218 LIVES OF TEE PRESIDENTS. about to fly at me like a tiger. The bystanders made as though they would interfere. Says I, ‘ Gentlemen, stand back, give me room, that’s all I ask, and I’ll manage him.’ With that I stood ready, with the rail pointed. He gave me one look, and turned away a whipped man, and feeling like one. So, sir, I say to you, if any villain assaults you, give him thepmt in his belly.” In these wild regions, and among these rough frontiersmen, such pluck gave a man an enviable reputation. Jackson was always ready for a fight. An opposing lawyer ridiculed some position he had taken. He tore a blank leaf from a law-book, wrote a per- emptory challenge, and handed it to his opponent. They met that evening in a glen, exchanged shots, which did not hit, shook hands, and became friends again. Jackson loved cock-fighting. He kept chickens for that purpose. When, upon one occasion, one of his chickens, after being struck down, revived, and by a lucky stroke killed his antagonist, Jackson, turning to a companion, exclaimed, delighted, “ There is the great- est emblem of bravery on earth ! Bonaparte is not braver ! ” In January, 1796, the Territory of Tennessee then containing nearly eighty thousand inhabitants, the people met in convention at Knoxville to frame a constitution. Five were sent from each of the eleven counties. Andrew Jackson was one of the delegates from Davidson County. They met in a shabby building in a grove out- side of the city. It was fitted up for the occasion at an expense of twelve dollars and sixty-two cents. The members were entitled to two dollars and a half a day. They voted to receive but a dollar and a half, that the other dollar might go to the payment of secre- tary, printer, and door-keeper, etc. A constitution was formed, which was regarded as very democratic; and in June, 1796, Ten- nessee became the sixteenth State in the Union. The new State was entitled to but one member in the national House of Representatives. Andrew Jackson was chosen that mem- ber. Mounting his horse, he rode to Philadelphia, where Congress then held its sessions, — a distance of eight hundred miles. Albert Gallatin thus describes the first appearance of the Hon. Andrew J ackson in the House : — “A tall, lank, uncouth-looking personage, with locks of hair hanging over his face, and a cue down his back, tied with an eel- skin, his dress singular, his manners and deportment those of a rough backwoodsman.” ANDREW JACKSON. 219 Jackson was an earnest advocate of the Democratic party. Jef- ferson was his idol. He admired Bonaparte, loved France, and hated England. As Mr. Jackson took his seat, General Washing- ton, whose second term of service was then expiring, delivered his last speech to Congress. A committee drew up a complimentary address in reply. Andrew Jackson did not approve of the address, and was one of twelve who voted against it. He was not willing to say that General Washington's administration had been “ wise, firm, and patriotic.” Tennessee had fitted out an expedition against the Indians, con- trary to the policy of the government. A resolution was introduced that the national government should pay the expenses. Jackson advocated it. It was carried. This rendered Mr. Jackson very pop- ular in Tennessee. A vacancy chanced soon after to occur in the Senate, and Andrew Jackson was chosen United States Senator by the State of Tennessee. John Adams was then President ; Thomas Jefferson, Vice-President. Many years after this, when Mr. Jefferson had retired from the presidential chair, and Andrew Jackson was candidate for the pres- idency, Daniel Webster spent some days at the romantic home of the sage of Monticello. He represents Mr. J efferson as saying, — “I feel much alarmed at the prospect of seeing General Jackson President. He is one of the most unfit men I know of for such a place. He has very little respect for law or constitutions, and is, in fact, an able military chief. His passions are terrible. When I was president of the Senate he was senator ; and he could never speak on account of the rashness of his feelings. I have seen him attempt it repeatedly, and as often choke with rage. His passions are no doubt cooler now. He has been much tried since I knew him ; but he is a dangerous man.” In 1798 Mr. Jackson returned to Tennessee and resigned his seat in the Senate. Soon after he was chosen judge of the Supreme Court of that State, with a salary of six hundred dollars. This office he held for six years. It is said that his decisions, though some- times ungrammatical, were generally right. When Senator Jackson was one of the judges of the Supreme Court of Tennessee, John Sevier was governor of the State. There had been some altercation between them; and Jackson had chal- lenged Sevier to a duel, which Sevier had declined. They met one 220 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. day in the streets of Knoxville in a very unfriendly mood. In the conversation which ensued, Judge Jackson alluded to the services which he had rendered the State. “ Services ! ” exclaimed the gov- ernor ; “ I know of none except a trip to Natchez with another man’s wife.” “Great God!” cried out Judge Jackson, “do you ' | mention her sacred name ? ” He immediately drew a pistol and fired. The governor returned the shot. The bullets whistled through the crowded streets of Knoxville. Bystanders separated them. Soon after, Judge Jackson, when traveling with a friend, Dr. Vandyke, met upon the road Governor Sevier, with his son. The judge immediately drew his pistol and ordered the governor to de- fend himself. The governor leaped from his horse, and the fright- ened animal ran away. Young Sevier drew upon Jackson ; Dr. Vandyke drew upon Sevier. Some chance travelers came up and stopped the fray. The quarrel between the judge and the governor enlisted parti- sans on either side ; and several scenes of clamor and violence oc- i c urred, which we have not space to record. Judge Jackson did not enjoy his seat upon the bench, and renounced the dignity in the sum- mer of 1804. About this time he was chosen major-general of mi- litia, and lost the title of judge in that of general. When he retired from the senate chamber, it seems that he had decided to try his for- tune through trade. He purchased a stock of goods in Philadelphia, sent them to Pittsburgh by wagon, down the Ohio to Louisville in flat-boats, thence by wagons or pack-horses to Nashville, where he opened a store. He lived about thirteen miles from Nashville, on a tract of land of several thousand acres, mostly uncultivated. He used a small block-house for his store, from a narrow window of which he sold goods to the Indians. As he had an assistant, his office as judge did not materially interfere with this business. The general tended store, sent goods, and, it is said, occasionally negroes, down the Mis- sissippi. As to slavery, born in the midst of it, the idea never seemed to enter his mind that it could be wrong. He became event- ually an extensive slave-owner ; but he was one of the most humane and gentle of masters. At a horse-race, where General Jackson brought forward his favorite horse Truxton, and where the stakes on either side were two thousand dollars, the general became involved in a quarrel with a young man by the name of Swann. He refused ANDREW JACKSON. 221 to accept the challenge of Swann, who was a young lawyer just from Virginia, upon the ground that he was not a gentleman ; but beat him with his bludgeon. It was a very disgraceful quarrel. This led to another difficulty, with Mr. Charles Dickenson, who was also a lawyer, and a dealer in country produce. Jackson chal- lenged him to a duel, and insisted upon an immediate fight. The meeting was appointed at a day’s ride from Nashville, at seven o’clock in the morning of Friday, May 30, 1806. The parties were to stand facing each other, twenty-four feet apart, with pistols down. At the word “ Fire ! ” they were to discharge their pistols as soon as they pleased. Dickenson had a young and beautiful wife and an infant child, and was said to have been a very amiable man. As he stole from the side of his wife and child early on Thursday morning, stating that he had business which called him to Kentucky, he kissed her, saying, “ Good-by, darling ! I shall be sure to be at home to-mor- row night.” Meeting a gay party of his friends, they rode off in the highest spirits. Dickenson was a sure shot. He could strike a dollar with his bullet, and even cut a string, at the distance of twenty-four feet. General Jackson and his party followed. The two parties spent the night at houses about two miles from each other. The next morning they met in a grove. Dickenson got the first fire. His aim was unerring ; but the ball broke a rib, and glanced, leaving a bad but not dangerous wound. Jackson then took de- liberate aim. Dickenson, appalled by the certain death which awaited him, recoiled a step or two. “Back to the mark, sir!” shouted Jackson’s second. The unhappy man took his stand. Again Jackson raised his pistol with calm, determined aim, and pulled the trigger. The pistol did not go off. He examined it, and found that it had stopped at half-cock. Readjusting it, he again, unre- lentingly, took cool aim, and fired. Dickenson reeled, and fell. The ball had passed through his body, just above the hips. Jack- son and his party retired from the field, leaving the dying man in the hands of his friends. All day long he suffered agony which ex- torted shrieks from him, and in the evening died. The next day, his frantic wife, hurrying to his relief, met a wagon conveying back to Nashville his remains. Dickenson was convivial in his tastes, a great favorite in Nashville, and his untimely death excited pro- 222 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. found sympathy. For a time this affair greatly injured General Jackson’s popularity. The verdict then was, and continues to be, that General Jackson was outrageously wrong. If he subsequently felt any remorse, he never revealed it to any one but to God. General Jackson at this time resided in a very humble house on what was called “The Hermitage Farm.” It consisted of one room on the lower floor, and two above. There was no ceiling. A trap-door in the middle of the floor opened into a hole for storage. There was another smaller cabin near by, connected by a covered passagfe. General Jackson’s rustic taste was amply satisfied with these accommodations. He desired nothing better. Subsequently, when to gratify his wife he built the comfortable house called “ The Hermitage,” these two buildings were converted into negro cabins. The general was proverbial for his hospitality, and the low as well as the high were equally welcome. Aaron Burr made the general a visit of five days. On his return from New Orleans he made another visit to the Hermitage Farm of eight days. He writes, — ANDREW JACKSON. 223 “ For a week, I have been lounging at the house of General Jack- son, once a lawyer, afterwards a judge, now a planter ; a man of intelligence, and one of those frank, ardent souls whom I love to meet.” Gradually General Jackson began to suspect Burr of designs of dismembering the Union, and establishing a Southern empire, of which New Orleans was to be the capital, and Aaron Burr the sovereign. He communicated his suspicions to the government, and offered his services. Subsequently he formed the opinion that Burr was innocent of any traitorous designs, and earnestly defended him, and became alienated from Jefferson and his administration. Gen- eral Jackson now withdrew from commercial pursuits, which he had not found very profitable, and devoted himself to the culture of his plantation. His home was a very happy one. Mrs. Jackson was an excellent manager, and one of the most cheerful and entertaining of companions. She had a strong mind, much intelligence, but very little culture. They had no children, but adopted one of the twin sons, but a few days old, of one of Mrs. Jackson’s sisters. This boy became the pride, the joy, the hope, of the general’s life. Soon after, he received another little nephew into his family, whom he nurtured and educated. It is said (and the assertion is well substantiated) that this wonderfully irascible man was never impatient even with wife, children, or servants. One day, when traveling alone, he met two burly wagoners, who ordered him to get out of his carriage and dance for them. Feign- ing simplicity, he said that he could not dance without his slippers, which were in his trunk. They told him to get them. Opening his trunk, he took out his pistols; and. then, with eyes glaring like fireballs, and with such oaths as few men ever heard before, ap- proached them, saying, — “Now, you infernal villains, you shall dance for me! Dance, dance ! ” There was death in his eye and in his tone. They danced until the general was satisfied, and he then dismissed them with a moral lecture which they probably never forgot. When the war of 1812 with Great Britain commenced, Madison occupied the presidential chair. Aaron Burr sent word to the Presi- dent that there was an unknown man in the West, Andrew Jackson, who would do credit to a commission if one were conferred upon him. Just at that time General Jackson offered his services and 224 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. those of twenty-five hundred volunteers. His offer was accepted, and the troops were assembled at Nashville. As the British were hourly expected to make an attack upon New Orleans, where General Wilkinson was in command, he was oi’dered to descend the river with fifteen hundred troops to the aid of Wilkin- son. As General Jackson hated the commandant at New Orleans, and expected a “ difficulty,” he took with him his dueling pistols and powder. The expedition reached Natchez ; and after a delay of several weeks there, without accomplishing anything, the men were ordered back to their homes. But the energy General Jackson had displayed, and his entire devotion to the comfort of his soldiers, won him golden opinions ; and he became the most popular man in the State. It was in this expedition that his toughness gave him the nickname of “ Old Hickory.” A young friend of General Jackson, by the name of William Carroll, challenged Jesse Benton, a younger brother of Colonel Thomas H. Benton, to a duel. Andrew Jackson, then forty-six years of age, somewhat reluctantly acted as second to Carroll. Both parties were wounded, young Benton quite severely. This roused the indignation of Colonel Thomas H. Benton, who had conferred some signal favors upon General Jackson; and, in his rage, he made such remarks as passionate men were accustomed to make in those days and in that region. The general, hearing of these remarks, swore “ by the Eternal ” that he would horsewhip Benton. Learn- ing that Benton was in Nashville, he rode into the city, and with pistols in his pocket, a small sword at his side, and a whip in his hand, went to the City Hotel, accompanied by a friend. Colonel Benton was at the front-door, with his brother Jesse near. Jack- son advanced upon him with his whip, exclaiming, — “ Now, you d d rascal, I am going to punish you ! Defend yourself! ” Benton clapped his hand into his breast-pocket as if feeling for a pistol. Jackson instantly drew a pistol, and presented it at the breast of his antagonist. Benton stepped back through the hall towards the door at the other end, Jackson following closely. Jesse Benton, seeing his brother’s peril, fired at Jackson. The pistol was loaded with two balls and a slug. The slug struck his left shoulder, shattering it horribly. The ball buried itself in his arm, where it ANDREW JACKSON. 225 remained for twenty years. Jackson fell heavily and helplessly to the floor, bleeding profusely. His friend, Colonel Coffee, rushed upon Colonel Benton, fired his pistol, and missed. He then clubbed his pistol, and was just about to strike the colonel over the head, when Benton tripped, and fell back over some stairs behind him which he had not observed, and rolled to the bottom. Coffee now turned his attention to his wounded friend. But another actor immediately appeared. Stokely Hays, a nephew of General Jackson, and a man of gigantic strength and stature, rushed upon Jesse Ben- ton. With gleaming knives, they had a rough-and-tumble fight. Blood flowed freely. Bystanders interfered, and separated them. Faint with loss of blood, Jackson was carried to the Nashville Inn, a short distance ; and the Bentons remained in possession of the field. Jackson’s wounds were very severe. While he was lin- gering, haggard and wan, upon a bed of suffering, news came that the Indians, who had combined under Tecumseh, from Florida to the Lakes, to exterminate the white settlers, were committing the most awful ravages. Decisive action became necessary. General Jackson, with his fractured bones just beginning to heal, his arm in a sling, and unable to mount his horse without assistance, gave his amazing energies to the raising of an army to rendezvous at Fayette- ville, on the borders of Alabama, on the 4th of October, 1813. The varied incidents of the war which ensued cannot here be de- scribed. On the bloody field of Talluschatches, where the whole of a band of one hundred and eighty Indian warriors met with their death, an Indian babe was found clinging to the bosom of its dead mother. Jackson urged some of the Indian women, who were cap- tives, to give it nourishment. They refused, saying, “ All his rela- tions are dead : kill him too.” The general took the child to his own tent, nursed it with sugar and water, sent it to the Hermitage, and brought the child up as a son, giving him the name of Lincoyer. He grew up a finely formed young man, but died of consumption at the age of seventeen. A narrative of the heroism of the troops, their sufferings and their achievements, would fill pages. On one occasion a starving soldier approached the general, begging for food. “ I will divide with you my own food,” said he, and, drawing a few acorns from his pocket, presented them to the man, saying, “ This is all the fare I have.” Mutinies arose in the camp, one after another, which General Jack- 15 226 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. son, almost by his own single energies, vanquished. The discourage- ment and embarrassments he encountered were terrible. In the severe chastisement of the Indians at Talladega ; in the struggle with his own starving troops at Fort Strother; in his twelve days’ excursion, culminating in the routing of the Indians at Enotochopco, — there was as high a display of energy and sagacity as has, per- haps, ever been recorded. The Indians were numerous and desperate. The battles were fierce and bloody. The settlers in that remote wilderness were entirely dependent upon their crops for the support of their families. Absence in seed-time or harvest exposed wives and children to star- vation. It was exceedingly difficult to hire men even for six months’ military service. Two hundred young men volunteered for a three- months’ campaign. The contract was written and signed. General Roberts had enlisted these men. He marched them to within a short distance of Fort Strother, and then halted them, and rode for- ward to get a promise from General Jackson to receive them for the short service for which they had enlisted. The wrath of the general was roused. He would not hear of their serving for less than six months. The men heard of it, and immediately started for their homes. Awful were the oaths of the enraged general. Every available man was sent after them to ar- rest them as deserters. He needed the men so much, that, while he swore that he would shoot them as deserters if they did not -re- turn, he assured them that they should be pardoned, and received into service on the terms upon which they had enlisted, if they would come back. Thus assured, they again rendezvoused at Fayetteville. Here a man who was anxious to retire engaged another young man, not quite eighteen years of age, John Wood, to serve as his substitute. John the more readily assented to this as he had an elder brother in the company. They were now marched to Fort Strother. A few days after this, on a cold, rainy morning in February, John Wood was on guard. Wet, chilled, and hungry, he obtained permission to go to his tent to get a blanket. His comrades had left his breakfast for him ; and, while he was hastily eating it, an officer came along, and reproved him sharply for the bones and other litter which were strewn about. John went on eating. The officer, in the coarse, insulting language of the camp, ordered him to ANDREW JACKSON. 227 pick np the bones. John replied, probably not very respectfully, that he was on guard, and had permission to leave his post but for a few moments, to which he must immediately return. A loud alter- cation ensued. The officer ordered the bystanders to arrest Wood. He seized bis gun, and swore that he would shoot the first man who should attempt to touch him. General Jackson heard that a man was mutinying, and came rushing from his tent like an enraged maniac. Wood was put in irons. General Jackson was about t^ start upon a very important enterprise. There was but little subordination in the army. He thought it time to make an example. He had been struggling against mutiny for three months, and his patience was exhausted. John, sitting upon a log in the forest, a mere boy, knowing noth- ing of military life, having been but a month in service, was con- demned to die. General Jackson was urged to pardon him, or, at least, to mitigate the sentence, in consideration of his youth, and of his aged parents, of whom he was the main-stay. The general replied that he was sorry for his parents ; but the boy was a muti- neer, and must die. The whole army was drawn up to witness the execution. A general order was read, in which it was asserted that Wood had been a deserter as well as a mutineer. A deserter be certainly was not ; for he did not join the company until after the flight and its rendezvous at Fayetteville. No one has ever read this story with- out a deep feeling of sympathy for John Wood. The Creek Indians had established a strong fort on one of the bends of the Tallapoosa River, near the centre of Alabama, about fifty miles below Fort Strother. With an army of two thousand men, General Jackson traversed the pathless wilderness in a march of eleven days. He reached their fort, called Tohopeka, or Horse- shoe, on the 27th of March, 1814. The bend of the river inclosed nearly one hundred acres of tangled forest and wild ravine. Across the narrow neck the Indians had constructed a formidable breast- work of logs and brush. Here nine hundred warriors, with an am- ple supply of arms and ammunition, were assembled. The fort was stormed. The fight was utterly desperate. Not an Indian would accept of quarter. When bleeding and dying, they would fight those who endeavored to spare their lives. From ten in the morning until dark the battle raged. The carnage was awful 228 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. and revolting. Some threw themselves into the river ; but the un- erring bullet struck their heads as they swam. Nearly every one of the nine hundred warriors was killed. A few probably, in the night, swam the river and escaped. This ended the war. The power of the Creeks was broken forever. This bold plunge into the wilderness, with its terrific slaughter, so appalled the savages, that the haggard remnants of the bands came to the camp, begging for peace. General Jackson returned a conqueror. No one but those who know from experience what are the horrors of Indian warfare — the midnight yell of the savage, the torch, the tomahawk, the carnage, the torture — can appreciate the gratitude with which this deliverer of the frontiers was received as he journeyed homewards. A caval- cade of the citizens of Nashville flocked to meet him. With loudest acclaim they conducted him to the court-house. All past enmities were forgotten, and every tongue spoke his praise. This closing of the Creek war enabled us to concentrate our militia upon the British, who were the allies of the Indians. No man of less resolute will than General Jackson could have conducted this Indian campaign to so successful an issue. Immediately, on the 31st of May, Jackson was appointed major-general in the army of the United States. This gave him an income of between six and seven thousand dollars a year, and made him, for those times, a rich man. Through the whole Indian campaign he suffered terribly from the wounds and debility occasioned by his senseless feud with Colonel Benton. He was pale and haggard and pain-worn, often enduring the extreme of agony. Not many men, suffering as he did, would have been out of the sick chamber. As one of the re- sults of the Creek war, the Creeks were compelled to cede to the United States government nearly the whole of the territory now embraced in the State of Alabama. Napoleon had now fallen ; the Bourbons were restored ; and the English, flushed with victory, with a splendid army, and a still more splendid navy of more than a thousand vessels, were free to concen- trate all their energies against this infant republic. The Federalists were glad that Napoleon was overthrown ; the Republicans generally mourned. Andrew Jackson was a Republican, and a great admirer of Napoleon. Immediately upon the fall of Napoleon, the British Cabinet de- ANDREW JACKSON. 229 cided to gather up its strength to strike America a crushing blow. It was their plan to take New Orleans, lay all our seaport towns in ashes, annihilate our navy, and, by holding the Atlantic, the Mis- sissippi, and the Lakes, to imprison us in our forests. The British were at Pensacola and Appalachicola, dispensing arms to the In- dians in that region, and preparing for their grand naval and land expedition to New Orleans. Florida then belonged to Spain, an ally of England ; and the British Cabinet doubted not its ability to wrest from us Louisiana, which we had purchased of France. Most of the hostile Indians, flying from the tremendous blows which General Jackson had dealt out to them, had also taken refuge in Florida. Jackson, far away in the wilderness, was left to act almost without instructions. He decided to take the responsibility, and assumed the independence of a sovereign. Late in August, with an army of two thousand men, on a rushing mai'ch, General Jackson traversed the wilderness from which he had driven out the Creeks, and reached Mobile, then an insignificant hamlet of one hundred and fifty houses, and took possession of a dilapidated rampart, called Fort Bowyer, at Mobile Point. A Brit- ish fleet came from Pensacola, landed a force upon the beach, an- chored near the little fort, and from both ship and shore commenced a furious assault. The battle was long and doubtful. At length, one of the ships was blown up, and the rest of the force retired in utter discomfiture. The whole South and West were fully aroused to meet and repel the foe. By the 1st of November General Jackson had in Mobile an army of four thousand men. His wrath against the Spaniards had no limits ; and he resolved to march upon Pensacola, where the Spaniards were sheltering our foes, and, as he expressed it, “ rout out the English.” Regardless of the rights of Spain, he advanced upon Pensacola, stormed the town, took possession of every fort, and drove the British fleet out to sea. But where had the fleet gone? This question General Jackson asked with great anxiety. Fearing for Mobile, he put his force in rapid motion to return. On the 3d of November he left Mobile, and on the 11th got back again, hav- ing marched nearly two hundred miles, and achieved a great victory. Many, at that time, condemned him for the invasion of Florida ; but the final verdict has been clearly in his favor. Garrisoning Mobile, he moved his troops to New Orleans, a dis- 230 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. tance of a hundred and seventy miles. General Jackson himself was so feeble that he could ride but seventeen miles a day. He reached New Orleans the 1st of December. New Orleans contained then twenty thousand inhabitants. There was plunder enough of cotton and sugar stored in the city to make the expedition of the British, if successful, very profitable. The following description has been given of General Jackson, as, accompanied by his staff alone, he entered the city : — “ The chief of the party, which was composed of five or six per- sons, was a tall, gaunt man, of very erect carriage, with a counte- nance full of stern decision and fearless energy, but furrowed with care and anxiety. His complexion was sallow and unhealthy, his hair was iron gray, and his body thin and emaciated, like that of one who had just recovered from a lingering and painful sickness. But the fierce glare of his bright and hawk-like eye betrayed a soul and spirit which triumphed over all the infirmities of the body. His dress was simple, and nearly threadbare. A small leather cap pro- tected his head, and a short Spanish blue cloak his body ; whilst his feet and legs were incased in high dragoon-boots, long ignorant of polish or blacking, which reached to the knees. In age he appeared to have passed about forty-five winters.” In some mysterious way General Jackson had acquired the man- ners of the most polished and accomplished gentleman. There was something in his presence which charmed every one, in the saloon as well as in the camp. Always self-possessed, there were dignity and courtliness, united with affability, in his address, which would have rendered him conspicuous as a gentleman, even in the court of Louis XIV. Every available man in New Orleans was immediately bi’ouglit into service. The battle of New Orleans, which soon ensued, was, in reality, a very arduous campaign. A British fleet of sixty ships, many of them of the first class, and which had obtained renown in the naval conflicts of Trafalgar and the Nile, was assembled in a spacious bay on the western end of the Island of Jamaica. This fleet, which carried a thousand cannon, was manned by nearly nine thousand soldiers and marines, and transported a land force of ten thousand veteran soldiers, fresh from the wars of Europe, and flushed with victory over Napoleon. The fleet entered Lake Borgne. It was the 10th of December, 1814. There were five small cutters in ANDREW JACKSON. 231 the lake, which were soon overpowered by the immense force of the foe. The fleet now ran along to the western extremity of the lake, and landed the troops at the mouth of the Bayou Bienvenue. The shallow water would not allow the large ships to approach near the land ; but sixteen hundred troops were speedily put on shore by the boats but eight miles from New Orleans. Unaware how feeble the force General Jackson had at his disposal, they did not deem it pru- dent to move upon the city until they had greatly increased their numbers. This delay probably saved New Orleans. The British troops commenced landing on the 16th. The proc- ess was-very slow and tedious ; and it was not until the 22d that they were prepared to move forward. Thus far it had been un- certain by what direction they would advance upon the city. As soon as General Jackson heard of their line of approach he ad- vanced to meet them. He had placed the city under martial law. Every available man, horse, mule, ox, had been called into requi- sition. The two armed schooners were Rationed in the river. Fort St. Philip was strengthened, to prevent the British fleet, which was impelled by wind alone, from ascending the river. At two o’clock in the afternoon on the 23d, General Jackson learned that the foe, marching from Lake Borgne, were within nine miles of the city. He immediately collected his motley force of young farmers and mechanics, about two thousand in number, and marched to meet them. He fell upon them impetuously in a night attack, checked their progress, and drove them back towards their landing-place. The British, surprised by the fury of the assault, waited for reinforcements, which came up in large numbers during the night. In the mean time General Jackson, with that indomitable energy, that fiery impetuosity in which he surpassed all living men, fell back with his men to a point about four miles down the river from New Orleans, and commenced cutting a ditch, and throwing up a line of breastworks from the river across the plain, which was about a mile in width, to the impassable swamp. Every man and boy in the city was put to the work. The general was everywhere. His zeal inspired all. He seemed neither to eat nor sleep. It is said that for five days and four nights he was without sleep. Two precious days the British allowed him, while they were laboriously bringing up their reinforcements of men, ammunition, provisions, and guns. 232 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. General Jackson liad two sloops of war hi the river, which an- noyed the foe terribly. It is but a narrow strip of land which lines the turbid Mississippi. It was only along this strip that the foe could advance. They were on the eastern banks, and were exposed unsheltered to the fire of these vessels. The levee, rising some fifteen feet from the plain, alone prevented the inundation of the ground where the British forces were collecting. On their right, as they looked up the stream, the swamp shut them in ; while the swift, turbid, deep river was on their left. On the 25th Sir E. Packenliam reached the British camp, bringing with him a power- ful battery. He planted it near the levee in the night, opened fire in the morning, blew one of the vessels into the air, and drove the other out of range of his guns. He was the nephew of the Duke of Wellington, But Andrew Jackson was in spirit the duke himself, expanded and intensified. Packenham, on the 28th, pushed his veteran battalions forward on a reconnoissance, and to sweep, if possible, like a Mississippi flood, over General. Jackson’s frail and unfinished breastwork. In the construction of his ditch and earthworks, he could scoop up the earth only to the depth of three feet before he came to the water. It was a brilliant morning, the 28th of December. Jackson, with an old borrowed telescope in his hand, was on the watch. The solid columns of red-coats came on, in military array, as beau- tiful as awe-inspiring. The artillery led, heralding the advance with a shower of Congreve-rockets, round shot, and shell. The muskets of the infantry flashed like mirrors in the light of the morning sun. The Britons were in high glee. It was absurd to suppose that a few thousand raw militia could resist the veterans who had conquered the arujies of Napoleon. General Jackson had not quite three thousand men behind his breastwork; but every one had imbibed the spirit of his chieftain. There were eight thousand veteran soldiers marching upon them. For a few hours there were the tumult, the horror, the carnage of a battle; and then the British host seemed to have melted away. Panting, bleeding, with shattered ranks, leaving their dead behind them, again they retreated. Another week passed away. Both parties exerted almost super- human energy in preparing for the renewal of the strife. General Jackson had made his arrangements, if defeated, to retire to the HA¥'l ANDREW JACKSON. 233 city, fire it, and, amidst its flames, to fight with desperation ; slowly falling back to some strong position on the river banks, and, by cut- ting off the supplies of the foe, compel him to depart. The British now decided to advance upon the American lines by regular approaches. For three days they remained in their encampment two miles below our breastworks, but in open view. They brought from their ships heavy cannon, and- other needful supplies. Thus passed the three last days of the year. The banks of the river were lined with sentinels, and watch-boats patroled the majestic stream. The British had brought forward twenty eighteen-pounders and ten twenty-fours. The night of the 31st of December was very dark. In its gloom one half of the British army advanced within three hundred yards of our front, and, under cover of a heavy cannonade on their right, commenced throwing up a chain of works. The next morning was Sunday, the first day of the new year. It dawned through a fog so dense that no man could be seen at a distance of twenty yards. Suddenly, at ten o’clock, like the uprolling of a curtain at a theatre, the fog lifted ; and the whole plain, glittering with all the pag- eantry of war, was opened to view. Instantly the British batteries commenced their fire upon the American lines. Within ten minutes one hundred balls struck the house which General Jackson had occupied as his headquarters. The reply from the American lines was prompt, and such a storm of war was opened as never before had been witnessed upon this continent. Fifty pieces of cannon were discharged, each from two to three times a minute : and, as there was not a breath of air, the plain was soon so covered with smoke that nothing could be seen but an im- penetrable cloud, blazing and bellowing with volcanic flash and roar. After an hour and a half of such work the guns became so hot that they could no longer be loaded. As the smoke rolled away the British batteries were seen totally destroyed ; the soldiers who had manned them were running to the rear; and the British army, which had been drawn up to advance upon our works, were hiding behind the ramparts which they had thrown up. Again the British were defeated. Annoyed by the terrible fire which was opened upon them by our artillerists and sharpshooters, they were compelled to fall back to their former position. This was the third battle, not including the gunboat 284 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. fight, of the campaign. It was on this occasion only that cotton bales were used. They were found valueless, and were thrown aside, as the cannon-balls knocked them about, or set them on fire. What the enemy would next attempt was now the great question. Four days passed away with no decisive movements on either side. The British were, however, evidently preparing for another ad- vance. No words can describe the efforts made by our army to prepare for the next movement of the foe, whatever it might be. On Friday, the 6th, General Jackson became assured that the enemy was preparing to attack him on both sides of the river. We cannot here describe the preparations made for the attack and for the repulse. At half an hour before dawn, Sunday morn- ing, January 8, 1815, a rocket from the hostile lines gave the signal for the attack. In two solid columns, the British advanced upon our ramparts, which were bristling with infantry and artillery, and behind which General Jackson had now collected an army of about four thousand men, all inspired with the zeal of their commander. On both sides of the river the blood-red billows of battle rolled and broke. Our men were well protected. With bare bosoms, the British marched upon the embankment, from which there was poured forth an incessant storm of bullets, balls, and shells, which no flesh and blood could stand. It was one of the most awful scenes of slaughter which was ever witnessed. Every bullet accomplished its mission, spending its force in the bodies of those who were insanely driven forward to inevitable death. Two hundred men were cut down by one discharge of a thirty-two-poundei’, loaded to the muzzle with musket-balls, and poured into the head of a column at the distance of but a few yards. Regiments vanished, a British officer said, “ as if the earth had opened and swallowed them up.” The American line looked like. a row of fiery furnaces. General Jackson walked slowly along his ranks, cheering his men, and saying, — “ Stand to your guns ! Don’t waste your ammunition ! See that every shot tells ! Let us finish the business to-day ! ” Two hours passed, and the work was done, — effectually done. As the smoke lifted, the whole proud array had disappeared. The ground was so covered with the dying and the dead, that, for a quarter of a mile in front, one might walk upon their bodies ; and, far away in the distance, the retreating lines of the foe were to be seen. On both sides of the river the enemy was repulsed. ANDREW JACKSON. 235 The British had about nine thousand in the engagement, and we but about four thousand. Their loss in killed and wounded was two thousand six hundred, while ours was but thirteen. Thus ended the great battle of New Orleans. For ten days after the battle the British remained in their encampment, continually annoyed by our artillerists and sharpshooters, until at length through great diffi- culties they effected their escape to their ships. In those days intelligence traveled so slowly, that it was not until the 4th of February that tidings of the victory reached Washington. The whole country blazed with illuminations, .and rang with rejoic- ings. Ten days after this, news of the Treaty of Ghent was re- ceived, which treaty had been signed before the bloody battle of New Orleans took place. General Jackson was not a man of tender sym- pathies. Inexorable in discipline, soon after this, on the 21st, at Mobile, he ordered six militia-men to be shot for mutiny. It is a sad story. They were honest, well-meaning men, who probably had no intention of doing wrong. Some of them were true Christians, and they supposed that their term of service had really expired. No one can read the story of their death without anguish ; and it re- quired all the glory of the victory at New Orleans to obliterate the memory of the execution at Mobile. Rumors of the Treaty of Ghent reached New Orleans in March, and were published by one of the New Orleans editors. General Jackson, deeming such an announcement injudicious, oi’dered the editor to retract. He refused, and was arrested. Judge Hall, to vindicate the supremacy of the civil authority, issued a writ of habeas corpus. The general arrested the judge, and sent him out of his lines. Soon intelligence of peace was received. The judge returned, and, by virtue of his office, fined the general a thousand dollars. The people of New Orleans, adoring their deliverer, were indignant, and wished to pay the fine for him. The general I’efused their offer, and paid it himself. He now returned to Nashville, and honors were poured in upon him without number. He still retained his command of the south- ern division of the army. The Seminole Indians in Florida were committing outrages upon our frontiers. General Jackson gathered an army of over two thousand men, and, regardless of treaties, marched into Florida, punished the Indians severely, attacked a Spanish post, shot by court-martial a Scotchman, and hung an 236 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. Englishman accused of inciting the Indians to insurrection. His energy, and disregard of treaties and the forms of law, were de- nounced by one party, and commended by another. He was, however, sustained by Congress and the President ; and, after the purchase of Florida from Spain, General Jackson was appointed governor of the newly acquired territory. The powers with which he was invested were so great, that he said, upon assuming the command, — “ I am clothed with powers that no one under a republic ought to possess, and which, I trust, will never again be given to any man.” For some reason he soon became tired of his office, and, resigning it, again retired to his farm and his extremely humble home in Ten- nessee. His name soon began to be brought forward as that of a candidate for the presidency of the United States. In the autumn of 1823 he was elected, by the Tennessee Legislature, United States senator. In the stormy electoral canvass of 1824, which resulted in the choice of John Quincy Adams by the House of Representatives, General Jackson received a larger number of electoral votes than either of his competitors. The Democratic party now with great unanimity fixed upon him to succeed Mr. Adams. In the campaign of 1828 he was triumphantly elected President of the United States. In 1829, just before he assumed the reins of government, he met with the most terrible affliction of his life in the death of his wife,- whom he had loved with devotion which has perhaps never been surpassed. From the shock of her death he never recovered. He ever afterwards appeared like a changed man. He became subdued in spirit, and, except when his terrible temper had been greatly aroused, seldom used profane language. It is said that every night afterwards, until his own death, he read a prayer from his wife’s prayer-book, with her miniature likeness before him. With frankness characteristic of his nature, he expressed his deep con- viction of the necessity of vital godliness, and his hope and intention to become a Christian before he should die. His administration was one of the most memorable in the annals of our country ; applauded by one party, condemned by the other. No man had more bitter enemies or warmer friends. It is, how- ever, undeniable, that many of the acts of his administration, which were at the time most unsparingly denounced, are now generally ANDRE IV JACKS ON. 237 commended. Every year the judgment of the whole community is settling into the conviction, that, with all his glaring faults of character, he was a true patriot, honestly seeking the good of his country. With the masses of the people, Andrew Jackson was the most popular President, with possibly the exceptions of Washington and Lincoln, who ever occupied the presidential chair. At the expiration of his two terms of office, he retired, in 1837, to the Hermitage, resigning his office at Washington to his warm friend and able supporter, Martin Van Buren. The remains of his much-loved wife were reposing in the humble graveyard near his house. The evening of his stormy life had come. Hours of reflection were forced upon him. The sublimities of the world beyond the grave had ever overawed his soul. There was a series of religious meetings of several days’ continuance. General Jackson devoutly attended them all. The last sermon was on Satur- day afternoon, upon God’s interposition among the affairs of men. General Jackson went home, intensely impressed with a sense of ingratitude and sin. He passed the night walking the floor of his chamber in anguish and in prayer. In the morning he announced to his family his full conviction that he had repented of his sins, and, through faith in Christ, had obtained forgiveness. That day the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper was to be administered. With his customary decision of character, he sent for the elders of the chui’ch, informed them of the new life upon which he believed he had entered, and expressed the desire that very day to make a pro- fession of his faith in Christ, and to partake of the emblems of his body broken for us, and his blood shed for our sins. It was a sol- emn scene which was that morning witnessed in that rural church, almost buried in the forests of Tennessee. The warworn veteran, with bronzed face and frosted hair, knelt with the humility of a little child before the altar, in acceptance of pardon through an atoning Saviour, and was baptized in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. The prayers of his Christian mother were now answered. His subsequent life was th it of the Christian who is conscious that his sins are forgiven, but vho is conscious, also, that he has yet many remaining infirmities. Family prayer was immediately estab- lished in his dwelling, which General Jackson himself conducted, aowever numerous might be his guests. Scott’s Family Bible he 238 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. read through twice before he died. The household servants were all called in to partake in the devotions. At one of the meetings of the church General Jackson was nominated a “ruling elder.” “ No,” he replied. “ The Bible saj r s, ‘ Be not hasty in the laying on of hands.’ I am too young in the church for such an office. My countrymen have given me high honors; but I should esteem the office of ruling elder in the Church of Christ a far higher honor than any I have received.” H is sufferings from sickness during the last years of his life were dreadful ; but he bore them with the greatest fortitude, never utter- ing a complaining word. Still, at times, the gleams of his impetu- ous soul would flash ' forth. “ What would you have done with Calhoun and the other nullifiers, if they had kept on ? ” asked Dr. Edgar one day. The old genei’al half rose from his bed, and with flashing eye, and great vehemence of manner, said, “ I would have hung them, sir, as high as Hainan. They should have been a terror to traitors for all time ; and posterit}' would have pronounced it the best act of my life.” On Sunday, May 24, 1845, he partook of the communion. “Death,” said he, “has no terrors for me. When I have suffered sufficiently, the Lord will take me to himself ; but what are my suf- ferings compared with those of the blessed Saviour who died on the accursed tree for me ? Mine are nothing.” Still he lingered in the extreme of weakness and of suffering. On Sunday morning, June the 8tli, it was seen that his last hour had come. He assembled all his family around him, and, in the most affecting manner, took leave of each one. “ He then,” writes one who was present, “delivered one of the most impressive lectures on the subject of religion that I have ever heard. He spoke for nearly half an hour, and apparently with the power of inspiration.” The servants had all been called in. In conclusion, he said, “My dear children and friends and servants, I hope and trust to meet you all in heaven, both white and black.” The last words he repeated, turning his eyes tenderly towards the slaves clustered around. For some time he remained apparently in a state of stupor. At length his adopted son took his hand, and said, “ Father, do you know me?” “ Yes,” he replied, “ I know you. Whei’e is my daughter, and ANDREW JACKSON. 239 Marian? God will take care of you for me. I am my God's. I belong to Him. I go but a short time before you ; and I want to meet you all, white and black, in heaven.” The slaves, men, women, and children, who crowded the piazza, looking in at the windows, sobbed loudly. Turning to them, their dying master said, — “ What is the matter with my dear children ? Have I alarmed you ? Oh ! do not cry, and we will all meet in heaven.” Soon after this he suddenly, and without a struggle, ceased to breathe. Two days after he was placed in a grave by the side of his wife. He had often said, “ Heaven will be no heaven to me if I do not meet my wife there.” For miles around the people flocked to the burial. It was estimated that three thousand were assembled upon the lawn in front of the house. A favorite psalm of the de- parted was sung, — “ Why should we start, and fear to die ? What timorous worms we mortals are ! ” A sermon was preached from the text, “ These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.” The brief sketch which we have given of this remarkable man must leave the impression upon every mind that he possessed great virtues and great defects. He was the first President America had chosen who was not a man of intelligence, of culture, and of expe- rienced statesmanship. Though intense in his prejudices, and slow to listen to the voice of reason, and though many of his actions were fearfully unjust, few will now deny that he was honest in his pur- poses, and sincerely patriotic. Mr. Parton, in his admirable Life of Jackson, says very truly, “ His ignorance of law, history, politics, science, — of every thing which he who governs a country ought to know, — was extreme. Mr. Trist remembers hearing a member of the general’s family say that General Jackson did not believe the world was round. His ignorance was a wall round about him, high and impenetrable. He was imprisoned in his ignorance, and sometimes raged around his little dim inclosure like a tiger in his den.” It is said that, when he was elected President of the United States, he had never read a book through except “ The Vicar of Wakefield.” The honorary 240 LIVES OF TEE PRESIDENTS. degree of LL. D. was conferred upon him in 1833 by Harvard Uni- versity. Chief Justice Taney, at the time of his death, paid the following beautiful tribute to his memory : — “ The whole civilized world already knows how bountifully he was endowed by Providence with those high gifts which qualified him to lead, both as a soldier and as a statesman. But those only who were around him in hours of anxious deliberation, when great and mighty interests were at stake, and who were also with him in the retired scenes of domestic life, in the midst of his family and friends, can fully appreciate his innate love of justice, his hatred of oppression in every shape it could assume, his magnanimity, his entire freedom from any feeling of personal hostility to his political opponents, and his constant and unvarying kindness and gentleness to his friends.” CHAPTER VIII. MARTIN VAN BUREN. Birth and Childhood. — Studies Law. — Talents and Industry. — Political Principles. — Suc- cess as a Lawyer and Politician. — Aids in the Election of Jackson. — Secretary of State. — Mrs. Eaton. — Resigns his Secretaryship. — Minister to England. — Rejected by the Sen- ate. — Attains the Vice-Presidency. — Patronage of General Jackson. — Chosen President. Retirement and Declining Years. There is but little in the life of Martin Van Buren of romantic interest. He fought no battles, engaged in no wild adventures. RESIDENCE OF MARTIN VAN BUREN. Though his life was stormy in political and intellectual conflicts, and he gained many signal victories, his days passed uneventful in those incidents which give zest to biography. His ancestors, as his name indicates, were of Dutch origin, and were among the earliest 16 242 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. emigrants from Holland to the banks of the Hudson. His father was a farmer, residing in the old town of Kinderhook. His mother, also of Dutch lineage, was a woman of superior intelligence and of exemplary piety. Martin, their eldest son, was born on the 5th of December, 1782. He was decidedly a precocious boy, developing unusual activity, vigor, and strength of mind. At the age of fourteen he had fin- ished his academic studies in his native village, and commenced the study of the law. As he had not a collegiate education, seven years of study in a law office were required of him before he could be ad- mitted to the bar. Inspired with a lofty ambition, and conscious of his powers, he pursued his studies with indefatigable industry. After spending six years in an office in his native village, he went to the city of New York, and prosecuted his studies for the seventh year under the tuition of William P. Yan Ness, who subsequently obtained celebrit} r as the second of Burr in his duel with Hamilton. Martin Van Buren’s father was a tavern-keeper, as well as a farmer; a man of imperturbable good nature, and a very decided Democrat. His son inherited from him both his bonhomie and his political principles. It is said of the son, that, all through life, he was ever ready to greet his most bitter opponent with an open hand and a friendly smile. Burr was in the most brilliant period of his career when the young law student first made his acquaintance. There was a certain congeniality of spirit between them which pro- moted friendship. Martin, then a young man of twenty, was very handsome, and was endowed with shining abilities ; and one can apparently see in his after-life the influence which the seductive and commanding mind of Burr exerted upon his youthful nature. In one respect, indeed, they were different: Mr. Yan Buren was ever a man of irreproachable morality. In 1803 Mr. Van Buren, then twenty-one yeai’s of age, com- menced the practice of law in his native^ village. The great conflict between the Federal and Republican parties was then at its height. It has often been necessary in the previous sketches to allude to the principles which separated the two parties. Washington and John Adams considered our great danger to consist in not giving the Central government sufficient power: the Democratic party, on the contrary, under the leadership of Jefferson, thought that our danger consisted in not giving the State governments sufficient power. MARTIN VAN BUREN. 243 In August, 1786, George Washington wrote to Jay, “We have probably had too good an opinion of human nature in forming our confederacy. I do not conceive that we can long exist as a nation, without having centralized somewhere a power which will pervade the whole Union in as energetic a manner as the authority of the state governments extends over the several States.” Mr. Van Buren was, from the beginning, a politician. He had, perhaps, imbibed that spirit while listening to the many discussions which had been carried on in his father's bar-room. He was in cordial sympathy with Jefferson, and earnestly and eloquently es- poused the cause of State Rights; though, at that time, the Fed- eral party held the supremacy, both in his town and State. Though ever taking an active part in politics, he devoted himself with great assiduity to the duties of a village lawyer, and rose rapidly in his profession. His success and increasing reputation led him, after six years of pi’actice, to remove to Hudson, the shire-town of his county. Here he spent seven years, constantly gaining strength by contending in the courts with some of the ablest men who have adorned the bar of his State. The heroic example of John Quincy Adams, in re- taining in office every faithful man, without regard to his political preferences, had been thoroughly repudiated under the administra- tion of General Jackson. The unfortunate principle was now fully established, that “to the victors belong the spoils.” Still this prin- ciple, to which Mr. Van Buren gave his adherence, was not devoid of inconveniences. When, subsequently, he attained power which placed vast patronage in his hands, he was heard to say, — “ I prefer an office which has no patronage. When I give a man an office I offend his disappointed competitors and their friends. Nor am I certain of gaining a friend in the man I appoint; for, in all probability, he expected something better.” Just before leaving Kinderhook for Hudson, Mr. Van Buren mar- ried a lady alike distinguished for beauty and accomplishments. After twelve short years she sank into the grave, the victim of con- sumption, leaving her husband and four sons to weep over her loss. For twenty-five years Mr. Van Buren was an earnest, successful, assiduous lawyer. The record of those years is barren in items of public interest. The political affairs of the State of New York, with which he was constantly intermingled, were in an entangled 244 LIVES OF TEE PRESIDENTS. condition which no mortal would now undertake to unravel. In 1812, when thirty years of age, he was chosen to the state Senate, and gave his strenuous support to Mr. Madison’s administration. In 1815 he was appointed attorney-general ; and the next year moved to Albany, the capital of the State. Here he cordially supported the administration of Mr. Madison ; and yet he voted for Clinton, in opposition to Madison, at his second election. Soon after this, we again find him the unrelenting opponent of Clinton. While he was acknowledged as one of the most prominent lead- ers of the Democratic party, he had the moral courage to avow that true democracy did not require that “ universal suffrage ” which ad- mits the vile, the degraded, the ignorant, to the right of governing the State. In true consistency with his democratic principles, he contended that while the path leading to the privilege of voting should be open to every man without distinction, no one should be invested with that sacred prerogative unless he were in some degree qualified for it by intelligence, virtue, and some property interest in the welfare of the State. He contended that “universal suffrage” with the motley mass who crowd the garrets and cellars of New York would render the elections a curse rather than a blessing, and would drive all respectable people from the polls. Mr. Van .Buren cannot, perhaps, be accused of inconsistency in his political life ; and yet, in endeavoring to trace out his career amidst the mazes of party politics, one is reminded of the attempt to follow with the eye the mounted aide of a general amidst the smoke, tumult, and uproar of the field of battle, now moving in one direction, now in another, and yet ever in accordance with some well-established plan. In 1818 there was a great split in the Democratic party in New York ; and Mr. Van Buren took the lead in organizing that portion of the party called the “ Albany Regency,” which is said to have swayed the destinies of the State for a quarter of a century. In 1821 he was elected a member of the United States Senate; and in the same year he took a seat in the convention to revise the Consti- tution of his native State. His course in this convention secured the approval of men of all parties. No one could doubt the single- ness of his endeavors to promote the interests of all classes in the community. In the Senate of the United States he rose at once to a conspicuous position as an active and useful legislator ; acting al- MARTIN VAN BUREN. 245 ways, however, in sympathy with the Republican, or Democratic party. In 182T, John Quincy Adams being then in the presidential chair, Mr. Van Buren was reelected to the Senate. He had been from the beginning a determined opposer of the administration, adopting the State-Rights view in opposition to what was deemed the Federal proclivities of Mr. Adams. In his letter accepting the senatorship, in accordance with his character as a strict “ construc- tionist,” he said, — “ It shall be my constant and zealous endeavor to protect the re- maining rights reserved to the States by the Federal Constitution, to restore those of which they have been divested by construction, and to promote the interest and honor of our common country.” Soon after this, in 1828, he was chosen Governor of the State of New York, and accordingly resigned his seat in the Senate. Prob- ably no one in the United States contributed so much towards ejecting John Quincy Adams from the presidential chair, and plac- ing in it Andrew Jackson, as did Martin Van Buren. Whether entitled to the reputation or not, he certainly was regarded through- out the United States as one of the most skilful, sagacious, and cun- ning of manceuvrers. It was supposed that no one knew so well as he how to touch the secret springs of action ; how to pull all the wires to put his machinery in motion ; and how to oi’ganize a politi- cal army which would, secretly and stealthily, accomplish the most gigantic results. By these powers, it is said that he outwitted Mr. Adams, Mr. Clay, Mr. Webster, and secured results which few thought then could be accomplished. In the spring of 1827 Mr. Webster had no doubt that Mr. Adams’s administration would be sustained. He wrote to Jeremiah Mason, — “ A survey of the whole ground leads me to believe confidently in Mr. Adams’s reelection. I set down New England, New Jersey, the greater part of Maryland, and perhaps all Delaware, Ohio, Kentucky, Indiana, Missouri, and Louisiana, for him. We must then get votes enough in New York to choose him, and, I think, cannot fail of this.” At the appointed hour Mr. Van Buren opened his masked bat- teries. Mines were sprung all over the United States. The battle raged with fury which had scarcely ever been equaled. The names of Adams and Jackson rang out upon every breeze : each was rep- 246 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. resented as an angel, each a demon. There was not an aristocratic crime which John Quincy Adams had not committed, no democratic atrocity of which Andrew Jackson had not been guilty. At length the electoral votes were cast. General Jackson re- ceived one hundred and seventy-eight ; Mr. Adams, eighty-three. General Jackson immediately offered the post of Secretary of State to Mr. Van Buren; a tribute, as he said, “to his acknowledged tal- ents and public services, and in accordance with the wishes of the Republican party throughout the Union.” Scarcely had General Jackson taken his seat in the presidential chair, ere there arose one of the most singular difficulties which ever distracted the government of a nation. There was a tavern- keeper in Washington who had a pretty, vivacious, free-and-easy daughter, by the name of Peg O’Neil. Peg may have been a very virtuous girl ; but she was so intimate with all her father’s guests, so unreserved in conversation and manners, and withal so fascinat- ing, that her reputation was not unblemished. General Jackson, when senator in 1823, had boarded with the old man, and had be- come acquainted with his pretty daughter. Miss O'Neil, however, eventually married a pui’ser in the United States navy, by the name of Timberlake. He was, of course, much of the time absent from home. Major John H. Eaton, a senator from Tennessee, took board at O’Neil’s tavern, and became very much fascinated by the beautiful and witty Mrs. Timberlake. Report was busy with the fair fame of them both ; and the lady, whether justly or unjustly, acquired a very unenviable reputation. Her husband one day, in a fit of melancholy, while in the Mediterranean, committed suicide ; and Major Eaton immediately after married her. This event took place soon after General Jackson’s election to the presidency. Major Eaton was a friend of General Jackson, and was appointed by him Secretary of War. The ladies of the other members of the Cabinet were in great trouble. How could they receive Peg O’Neil (now Mrs. Eaton), with her sullied reputation, into their social circles ? They conferred together, and resolved that they would not do it. General Jackson, mindful of his own past troubles in that line, and assuming, with all the force of his impetuous nat- ure, that Mrs. Eaton was a traduced and virtuous woman, resolved that she should be received as an honored member of the republican court. Several of the members of the Cabinet were married, and MARTIN VAN BUREN. 247 these gentlemen sympathized with their wives. The Cabinet was divided. The conflict roused all the tremendous energies of Gen- eral Jackson’s soul. Mr. Van Buren had neither wife' nor daughter. He was one of the most pliant, politic, and courteous of men. It was one of the fundamental principles of his life, never to give offense, and never to appear to notice an injury. He was ever polite, alike to saint and sinner, to friend and enemy. Not unconscious of the gratifi- cation it would afford General Jackson, he called upon Mrs. Eaton, made parties for her, and treated her with the most marked respect. His great abilities had already secured the confidence of the Presi- dent, which this policy tended only fco increase. Those familiar with the state of things at Washington soon perceived that Martin Yan Buren had become a great power, and that he was on the high road to any degree of elevation he might desire. The boundless popularity of General Jackson rendered it prob- able that any one whom he might suggest as his successor would obtain the election. Not one year had elapsed after General Jack- son had assumed the reins of government, ere he avowed to his friends his intention to do everything in his power to secure the presidency for Mr. Yan Buren. About this time the President was taken very sick. He therefore wrote a letter, carefully worded, to be published in case he should die, expressive of his wishes. In this letter lie says, — \ “ Permit me here to say of Mr. Yan Buren, that I have found him everything I could desire him to be, and believe him not only deserving my confidence, but the confidence of the nation. Instead of his being selfish and intriguing, as has been represented by his opponents, I have ever found him frank, open, candid, and manly. As a counselor, he is able and prudent, republican in his principles, and one of the most pleasant men to do business with I ever saw. He is well qualified to fill the highest office in the gift of the people, who in him will find a true friend, and safe depositary of their rights and liberty.” For two years this Mrs. Eaton conflict raged bitterly. Foreign ministers end their wives were drawn into the troubled arena. Mr. Van Buren, however, succeeded in so governing his own actions, as to be ever increasing in strength. Daniel Webster wrote, early in the year 1831, — LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. 248 “ Mr. Van Buren has evidently, at this moment, quite the lead in influence and importance. He controls all the pages on the back stairs, and flatters what seems at present the ‘ Aaron’s serpent ’ among the President’s desires, — a settled purpose of making out the lady, of whom so much has been said, a person of reputation. It is odd enough, but too evident to be doubted, that the conse- quence of this dispute in the social and fashionable world is pro- ducing great political effects, and may very probably determine who shall be successor to the present Chief Magistrate.” In the division of the Cabinet, there were, for Mrs. Eaton, Mr. Van Buren, Major Eaton, Mr. Barry, and the President; against her, Mr. Ingham, Mr. Branch, Mr. Berrien, and the Vice-President, Calhoun. This latter personage now hated Van Buren with per- fect hatred. The President so loved him, that he was accustomed to address him with endearing epithets ; speaking of him to others as Van, and calling him, to his face, Matty. At length the Presi- dent resolved to introduce harmony into his Cabinet by the unprece- dented measure of dismissing them all, and organizing the Cabinet anew. This was to be accomplished by having those who were in sympathy with him resign, and receive rich offices elsewhere. If the others took the hint, and resigned also, well and good; if not, they were to be dismissed. Mr. Van Bui’en sent in his res- ignation, and immediately was appointed minister to the court of St. James, All this redounded to the reputation of Mr. Van Buren ; and more and more he was regarded as the great magician, whose wand possessed almost supernatural power. Upon returning to New York, he met with a triumphant reception, and, early in the autumn of 1831, sailed for London. Soon after his arrival there, Congress again met. It was necessary that the Senate should ratify his appointment. Messrs. Calhoun, Clay, and Webster ap- peared prominently as his opponents, accusing him of such a spirit of narrow partisanship as to unfit him to be the representative of our whole country. He was accused of being the originator of the system of removing from office every incumbent, however able and faithful, who did not advocate the principles of the party in power. It was during the discussion upon this question that Governor Marcy of New York, in defending the system of party removals, uttered the memorable words, — MARTIN VAN BVREN. 249 “ It may be, sir, that the politicians of New York are not so fas- tidious as some gentlemen are as to disclosing the principles on which they act. They boldly preach what they practice. When they are contending for victory, they avow their intention of enjoy- ing the fruits of it. If they are defeated, they expect to retire from office ; if they are successful, they claim, as a matter of right, the advantages of success. They see nothing wrong in the rule, that to the victor belong the spoils of the enemy.” In this hour, when Mr. Van Buren was so bitterly assailed, Gov- ernor Forsyth of Georgia paid the following beautiful tribute to his character : — “Long known to me as a politician and a man ; acting together in the hour of political adversity, when we had lost all but our honor ; a witness of his movements when elevated to power, and in possession of the confidence of the Chief Magistrate and of the great majority of the people, — I have never witnessed aught in Mr. Van Buren which requires concealment, palliation, or coloring ; never anything to lessen his character as a patriot or a man ; noth- ing which he might not desire to see exposed to the scrutiny of every member of this body, with the calm confidence of unsullied integrity. He is called an artful man, a giant of artifice, a wily magician. Those ignorant of his unrivaled knowledge of human character, his power of penetrating into the designs and defeating the purposes of his adversaries, seeing his rapid advance to power and public confidence, impute to art what is the natural result of those simple causes. Extraordinary talent ; untiring industry ; in- cessant vigilance ; the happiest temper, which success cannot cor- rupt, aor disappointment sour, — these are the sources of his unex- ampled success, the magic arts, the artifices of intrigue, to which only he has resorted in his eventful life. Those who envy his suc- cess may learn wisdom from his example.” Mr. Van Buren’s rejection by tbe Senate must have been to him a great mortification. When the news reached London, it was pro- claimed in all the journals of the city. That evening Prince Tal- leyrand, the French minister, gave a partv. Mr. Van Buren was present, as calm, social, and smiling as if floating on the full tide of prosperity. He returned to America, apparently untroubled ; was nominated for Vice-President, in the place of Calhoun, at the reelec- tion of President Jackson ; and with smiles for all, and frowns for 250 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. none, went to take his place at the head of that Senate which had refused to confirm his nomination as ambassador. Mr. Calhoun supposed that Mr. Van Buren’s rejection by the Senate would prove his political death, and is reported to have said triumphantly, “ It will kill him, sir, — kill him dead. He will never kick, sir, — never kick.” This rejection roused all the zeal of President Jackson in behalf of his repudiated favorite ; and this, probably more than any other cause, secured his elevation to the chair of the Chief Executive. On the 20th of May, 1836, Mr. Van Buren received the Democratic nomination to succeed General Jack- son as President of the United States. He was elected by a hand- some majority, to the great delight of the retiring President. “ Leav- ing New York out of the canvass,” says Mr. Parton, “the election of Mr. Van Buren to the presidency was as much the act of General Jackson as though the Constitution had conferred upon him the power to appoint a successor.” It was one of the most brilliant days of spring, when the long procession which accompanied Mr. Van Buren to his inauguration passed through Pennsylvania Avenue. A small volunteer corps escorted the President elect as he rode in a phaeton drawn by four grays. General Jackson accompanied his friend, and both rode un- covered. As they alighted from the carriage at the foot of the steps, and ascended through the dense and moving mass, the tall head of the old chieftain, with his bristling hair, towered above all the rest, and attracted every eye. The day was calm, and the air elastic. Twenty thousand people were there assembled. As Mr. Van Buren delivered his inaugural address, his clear voice, in its distinct articulation, reached every ear. The policy of the government had been so distinctly marked out by General Jackson, and Mr. Van Buren had so distinctly avowed his intention of following in the footsteps of his illustrious prede- cessor, that there was no call for the introduction of any new acts, or for any change in the administration. Mr. Van Buren had scarcely taken his seat in the presidential chair, when a financial panic, almost unprecedented in its disastrous results, swept the land. Many attributed this to the war which General Jackson had waged upon the banks, and to his endeavor to secui’e an almost exclusive specie currency. Nearly every bank in the country was compelled to suspend specie payment, and ruin MARTIN VAN BUREN. 251 There was an insurrection in Canada against the British gov- ernment, which came near involving us in a w r ar with that nation, A party of Canadian insurgents had rendezvoused on Navy Island, in the Niagara River, opposite the village called Fort Schlosser, on the American side. A small steamboat, called The Caroline, which was suspected of having carried ammunition and supplies to the insurgents, was moored to the American shore. The British com- mander, regardless of territorial rights, sent an armed force across the river, attacked the steamer, killed several of her defenders, ap- pervaded all our great cities. Not less than two hundred and fifty houses failed in New York in three weeks. All public works were brought to a stand, and there was a general state of dismay. At the same time we were involved in an inglorious war with the Seminole Indians in Florida, which reflected no honor upon our arms. The slavery question was rising in portentous magnitude, introducing agitation, rage, and mob violence in almost every city and village of the land. BURNING OF THE CAROLINE. 252 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. plied the torch to the boat, and sent it in flames over the Falls of Niagara. The circumstance called forth a long and angry corre- spondence with the British government ; and, in the exasperations of the hour, we barely escaped war. About the same time there also arose a contest between Maine and Great Britain respecting boundary-lines ; and there was the angry mustering of hosts, in preparation for battle. With all these troubles on his hands, the four years which Mr. Van Buren spent in the White House must have been years of anxiety and toil. Still, he was anxious for a reelection. General Jackson did everything in his power to aid him. But public sentiment was now setting so strongly against the administration, that the Whig candidate, Wil- liam Henry Harrison, was chosen President, and Mr. Van Buren was permitted to retire to the seclusion of Ivinderhook. He had ever been a prudent man, of frugal habits, and, living within his income, had now fortunately a competence for his de- clining years. His unblemished character, his commanding abil- ities, his unquestioned patriotism, and the distinguished positions which he had occupied in the government of the country, secured to him, not only the homage of his party, but the respect of the whole community. It was on the 4th of March, 1841, that Van Buren retired from the presidency. From his fine estate at Lindenwald he still exerted a powerful influence upon the politics of the country. In 1844 his friends made strenuous efforts to have him renominated for the presidency. The proslavery portion of the Democratic party, however, carried the day ; and James K. Polk of Tennessee received the nomination. Again, in 1848, the Free-soil Democrats brought forward his name for the presidency. Three hundred thousand votes were cast in his favor. General Taylor, however, the Whig candi- date, was the choice of the people. From this time until his death, on the 24th of July, 1862, at the age of eighty years, he resided at Lindenwald, a gentleman of leisure, of culture, and of wealth ; en- joying, in a healthy, vigorous old age, probably far more happiness than he had before experienced amidst the stormy scenes of his active life. He was surrounded by friends, and his own cheerful disposi- tion gilded every hour. Martin Van Buren was a great and good man ; and no one will question his right to a high position among those who have been the successors of Washington in the occupancy of the presidential chair. V* CHAPTER IX. WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. Birth and Ancestry. — Enters United States Army. — Is promoted. — Resigns his Commission — Sent to Congress. — Governor of Indiana Territory. — His Scrupulous Integrity. — Indian Troubles. — Battle of Tippecanoe. — War with Great Britain. — Governor Harri- son's Perplexities and Labors. — The British repulsed. — Tecumseh slain. — False Accusa- tions. — Speech in Congress. — Reply to Randolph. — Letter to President Bolivar. — Tem- perance Principles. — Views respecting Slavery. — Duelling. — Elected President. — Death. William Henry Harrison was born in Virginia, on the banks of the Janies River, at a place called Berkeley, February 9, 1773. RESIDENCE OF WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. His father, Benjamin Harrison, was in comparatively opulent cir- cumstances, and was one of the most distinguished men of his day. 254 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. He was an intimate friend of George Washington, was early elected a member of the Continental Congress, and was conspicuous among the patriots of Virginia in resisting the encroachments of the British crown. In the celebrated Congress of 1775, Benjamin Harrison and John Hancock were both candidates for the office of speaker. Mr. Harrison at once yielded to the illustrious patriot from the Bay State ; and, seeing that Mr. Hancock modestly hesitated to take the chair, Mr. Harrison, who was a very portly man, and of gigantic strength, with characteristic good nature and playfulness seized Mr. Hancock in his athletic arms, and carried him, as though he were a child, to the seat of honor. Then turning around, with his honest, beaming face, he said to his amused associates, — “Gentlemen, we will show Mother Britain how little we care for her by making a Massachusetts man our President, whom she has excluded from pardon by a public proclamation.” Like most men of large stature, Mr. Harrison was full of fun, and never liked to lose an opportunity for a joke. He was one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence; and he it was who made the ludicrous remark about “ hanging ” to Elbridge Gerry, to which we have referred in the life of Jefferson. Mr. Harrison was subsequently chosen Governor of Virginia, and was twice reelected. His son William Henry, of course, enjoyed in childhood all the advantages which wealth and intellectual and cul- tivated society could give. Having received a thorough common- school education, he entered Hampden Sidney College, where he graduated with honor soon after the death of his father. He then repaired to Philadelphia to study medicine under the instruction of Dr. Rush and the guardianship of Robert Morris, both of whom were, with his father, signers of the Declaration of Independence. George Washington was then President of the United States. The Indians were committing fearful ravages on our northwestern frontier. For the protection of the settlers, General St. Clair was stationed, with a considerable military force, at Fort Washington, on the far-away waters of the then almost unexplored Ohio, near the spot where the thronged streets of Cincinnati are now spread out. Young Harrison, either lured by the love of adventure or moved by the sufferings of families exposed to the most horrible outrages, abandoned his medical studies, and, notwithstanding the remonstrances of his friends, entered the army, having obtained a WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 255 commission of ensign from President Washington. He was then nineteen years of age. The hostile Indians, who had originally been roused against us during the war of the Revolution by the government of Great Brit- ain, were spread over that vast wilderness now occupied by the States of Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois. They could bring many thou- sand warriors into the field, who had been supplied with ammuni- tion and arms by the British authorities in Canada. Just before young Harrison received his commission, General St. Clair, advanc- ing into the wilderness with fourteen hundred men, was attacked by the Indians near the head waters of the Wabash, and utterly routed, with a loss of five hundred and thirty killed, and three hundred and sixty wounded. This awful defeat had spread consternation throughout the whole frontier. Winter was setting in. Young Harrison, in form and strength, was frail ; and many of his friends, thinking he would be unable to endure the hardships of a winter campaign, urged him to resign his commission. He, however, rejected this advice, and, crossing the country on foot to Pittsburgh, descended the Ohio to Fort Washing- ton. The first duty assigned him was to take command of a train of pack-horses bound to Fort Hamilton, on the Miami River, about forty miles from Fort Washington. It was a very arduous and perilous service ; but it was so well performed as to command the especial commendation of General St. Clair. A veteran frontiers- man said of the young soldier, — “ I would as soon have thought of putting my wife into the ser- vice as this boy ; but I have been out with him, and find those smooth cheeks are on a wise head, and that slight frame is almost as tough as my own weather-beaten carcass.” Intemperance was at that time, as it ever has been, the bane of the army ; but young Harrison, inspired by some good impulse, adopted the principles of a thorough temperance man, to which he adhered throughout his whole life. This enabled him to bear hard- ships and endure privations under which others sank to an early grave. Soon he was promoted to the rank of lieutenant, and joined the army which Washington had placed under the command of General Wayne to prosecute more vigorously the war with the Indians. The new general who succeeded St. Clair had acquired, by his reckless 256 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. daring, the title of “ Mad Anthony.” On the 28th of November, 1792, General Wayne, with an army of about three thousand non- commissioned officers and privates, descended the Ohio from Pitts- burgh, a distance of twenty-two miles, and encamped for the winter. In the spring he conveyed his troops in boats down the river to Fort Washington. Here Lieutenant Harrison joined the “Legion,” as Wayne’s army was called. His soldierly qualities immediately attracted the attention and secured the confidence of his commander- in chief. Several months were lost in waiting for supplies before the army could move. In October they advanced to a post which they called Greenville, about eighty miles due north. Here the army encamped for the winter. A strong detachment was sent some twenty miles farther north, to occupy the ground where St. Clair was defeated, to bury the remains of the dead, and to establish there a strong post, which they named Fort Recovery. In this enterprise Lieutenant Harrison is mentioned as having rendered conspicuous service. The Indians, in the early spring, attacked the fort with the greatest determination. They were, however, repulsed in repeated assaults, and at length retired, having lost a large portion of their band. General Wayne then advanced with his whole army some sixty miles north to the junction of the Auglaize and Maumee rivers, where he constructed a strong fort. On the 20th of August, as he was continuing his march down the Maumee, he encountered the Indians in great force, lying in ambush. Their numbers were esti- mated at two thousand. A bloody battle ensued, in which both parties fought with the utmost desperation. The savages were driven howling into the woods, their villages were burned, and their cornfields destroyed. This signal discomfiture broke their spirit, and they implored peace. Again Lieutenant Harrison signalized himself, and obtained from his commanding officer the following commendation : — “ Lieutenant Harrison was in the foremost front of the hottest battle. His person was exposed from the commencement to the close of the action. Wherever duty called, he hastened, regardless of danger, and, by his efforts and example, contributed as much to secure the fortunes of the day as any other officer subordinate to the commander-in-chief.” WILLIAM HE NR Y HARRIS ON. 257 Lieutenant Harrison was promoted to the rank of captain, and was placed in command at Fort Washington. The British military posts in the Northwest were about this time surrendered to the na- tional government, and Captain Harrison was employed in occupy- ing them and in supplying them with provisions and military stores. While thus employed he married a daughter of John Cleves Symmes, one of the frontiersmen who had established a thriving settlement on the banks of the Maumee. In 1797 Captain Harrison, then twenty-four years of age, re- signed his commission in the army, and was appointed secretary of the Northwestern Territory, and ex officio lieutenant-governor, Gen- eral St. Clair being then governor of the Territory. At that time the law in reference to the disposal of the public lands was such that no one could purchase in tracts less than four thousand acres. This inured to the benefit of the rich speculator; and the poor settler could only purchase at second hand, and at a greatly advanced price. Mr. Harrison, in the face of violent opposition, succeeded in obtain- ing so much of a modification of this unjust law, that the land was sold in alternate tracts of six hundred and forty and three hundred and twenty acres. The Northwestern Territory was then entitled to one delegate in Congress, and Captain Harrison was chosen to fill that office. In the spring of 1800 the Northwestern Territory was divided by Congress into two portions. The eastern portion, comprising the region now embraced in the State of Ohio, was called “ The Terri- tory northwest of the Ohio.” The western portion, which included what is now called Indiana, Illinois, and Wisconsin, was called “ The Indiana Territory.” William Henry Harrison, then twenty- seven years of age, was appointed by John Adams Governor of the Indiana Territory, and immediately after, also Governor of Upper Louisiana. He was thus the ruler over almost as extensive a realm as any sovereign upon the globe. He was Superintendent of In- dian Affairs, and was invested with powers nearly dictatorial over the now rapidly-increasing white population. The ability and fidel- ity with which he discharged these responsible duties may be in- ferred from the fact that he was four times appointed to this office, — first by John Adams, twice by Thomas Jefferson, and afterwards by President Madison. When he commenced his administration there were but three 17 258 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. white settlements in that almost boundless region, now crowded with cities, and resounding with all the tumult of wealth and traffic. One of these settlements was on the Ohio, nearly opposite Louis- ville , one at Vincennes, on the Wabash; and the third a French settlement. Governor Harrison discharged his arduous duties with such man- ifest justice, that no one ventured to question his integrity. During his administration, he effected thirteen treaties with the Indians, by which the United States acquired sixty millions of acres of land. Governor Harrison was sole commissioner, and every treaty he formed received the sanction of the President and Senate of the United States. He had ample opportunities to enrich himself ; for he could confirm grants of land to individuals, his sole signature giving a title which could not be questioned : but he never held a single acre by a title emanating from himself. The frontiers of civ- ilization are always occupied by a lawless class of vagabonds, who shrink from no outrages : these men abused the Indians in every way which passion or interest could dictate. In a communication to the government, July, 1801, Governor Harrison says, — “All these injuries the Indians have hitherto borne with aston- ishing patience. But though they discover no disposition to make war upon the United States, I am confident that most of the tribes would eagerly seize any favorable opportunity for that purpose ; and should the United States be at war with any European nation's who are known to the Indians, there would probably be a combina- tion of more than nine tenths of the northern tribes against us, un- less some means are made use of to conciliate them.” Mr. Jefferson was now President, and humanely made great ex- ertions to protect the Indians, and to induce them to abandon their wild hunting-life, and to devote themselves to the cultivation of the land. In 1804 Governor Harrison obtained a cession from the In- dians of all the land between the Illinois River and the Mississippi. A territorial legislature was soon organized for the rapidly-increas- ing population, over which the governor presided with that dignity, courtesy, and unswerving integrity which secured to him universal respect. By nature he had much kindness of heart ; and his affa- bility of manners, and his tact in meeting all varieties of human character, rendered him greatly beloved. His magnanimous devo- tion to the public interest was such that he several times appointed WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 259 decided political opponents to offices of trust which he deemed them eminently fitted to fill. He was so cautious to avoid the appearance of evil, that he would not keep the public money on hand, but al- ways made his payments by drafts upon Washington. It has been said that no man ever disbursed so large an amount of public treas- ure with so little difficulty in adjusting his accounts. For twelve years he was Governor of the Territory of Indiana. A wealthy foreigner, by the name of M’lntosh, loudly accused the governor of having defrauded the Indians in the treaty of Fort Wayne. The governor demanded investigation in a court of justice; and not only was he triumphantly acquitted, but the jury brought in a verdict against M’lntosh for damages to the amount of four thousand dollars. Governor Harrison, having thus obtained the perfect vindication of his character, distributed one third of the sum to the orphan children of those who had died in battle, and restored the remainder to M’lntosh himself. The proprietor of the land upon which the city of St. Louis now stands offered him nearly half of the whole town for a merely nom- inal sum if he would assist in building up the place. So nice was his sense of honor, that he declined the offer, lest it might be said that he had used his official station to promote his private interests. In a few years that property was worth millions. A large tract of land near Cincinnati had been sold, in the early settlement of the country, under an execution against the original proprietor, for a very small sum. At length, after the property had become im- mensely valuable, it was found that, by- some defective proceedings in the court, the sale was not valid, and the legal title was vested in Mrs. Harrison and another individual, as heirs at law. The lofty spirit of integrity which animated General Harrison led him instantly to discriminate between a legal and an equitable title. He obtained the consent of the co-heir, and immediately relinquished the whole property to the purchasers. These incidents surely re- veal a character of very unusual magnanimity, disinterestedness, and generosity. The vast wilderness over which Governor Harrison reigned was filled, as we have mentioned, with many tribes of Indians. About the year 1806, two extraordinary men, twin brothers, of the Shaw- nese tribe, rose up among them. One of these was called Tecumseh, or “ The Crouching Panther ; ” the other, Olliwacheca, or “ The 260 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. Prophet.” Tecumseh was not only an Indian warrior, but a man of great sagacity, far-reaching foresight, and indomitable perseverance in any enterprise in which he might engage. He was inspired with the highest enthusiasm, and had long regarded with dread and with hatred the encroachment of the whites upon the hunting-grounds of his fathers. His brother, the Prophet, was an orator, who could sway the feelings of the untutored Indian as the gale tossed the tree- tops beneath which they dwelt. But the Prophet was not merely an orator : he was, in the super- stitious minds of the Indians, invested with the superhuman dig- nity of a medicine-man, or a magician. With an enthusiasm un- surpassed by Peter the Hermit rousing Europe to the crusades, he went from tribe to tribe, assuming that he was specially sent by the Great Spirit. In the name of his divine Master, he commanded them to abandon all those innovations which had been introduced through the white man, to return to the customs of their fathers, and to combine together for the extermination of the pale-faces. In co- operation with him, his heroic brother Tecumseh traversed thousands of miles of the forest, visiting the remoter tribes, announcing to them the divine mission of his brother, and seeking to enlist their co- operation. No discouragements chilled the zeal of these extraor- dinary and determined men. They probably wrought themselves up to the full conviction that they were commissioned by the Great Spirit. The Prophet had occasionally protracted meetings for exhortation and prayer, in which, through successive days, he plied all the arts of devotion and persuasion to fire the hearts of his followers. Two years were thus employed by these two brothers. In the summer of 1808 the Prophet established his encampment on the banks of the Tippecanoe, a tributary of the Upper Wabash. The measures of Tecumseh and the Prophet, in organizing this formidable conspiracy, had been conducted as secretly as possible but the suspicions of the government began to be aroused. To allay these suspicions, the Prophet visited Governor Harrison, and, in an exceedingly insidious and plausible speech, stated that he had no designs whatever of rousing his people to hostilities ; that he sought only their moral and religious improvement. A- large number of the Indians accompanied him. He often preached to them in the presence of the governor ; and his two WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 261 great topics were the evils of war and of whisky-drinking. His power over them had become so great that by no persuasions of the whites could one of his followers be induced to take a drop of in- toxicating drink. Still rumors were continually reaching Governor Harrison that the Indians were making extensive preparations for hostilities. In his earnest solicitude to learn the facts in the case, he sent urgent invitations for both Tecumseh and the Prophet to visit him. Tecumseh at length came to Vincennes in proud array, with four hundred plumed warriors completely armed. A council was holden on the 12th of August, 1809. The governor was quite unprepared for the appearance of a host so formidable. Assuming, however, that all was friendly, he met the proud chieftain, whom we call a savage, to deliberate upon the state of affairs. The governor was attended by the judges of the Supreme Court, a few army officers, and a number of citizens. A small body-guard, consisting merely of a sergeant and twelve men, were drawn up at a little distance. Tecumseh still affirmed, in a very dignified speech which he made to the governor, that he had no intention of making war : but he very boldly declared that it was his intention and endeavor to com- bine all the tribes for the purpose of putting a stop to all further encroachments by the whites ; that not another acre of land should be ceded to them without the consent of all the tribes ; and that those chiefs who had recently made treaties by which they had dis- posed of lands to the United States should all be put to death. This statement led to indignant remonstrance on the part of Gov- ernor Harrison. As he was speaking, Tecumseh interrupted him, and in angry tones, and with violent gesticulations, declared that he had cheated the Indians. Immediately his warriors, who were squatted upon the grass around, sprang to their feet, and began to brandish their war-clubs in the most threatening manner. Gov- ernor Harrison rose from his arm-chair, and drew his sword. The army officers gathered around him. The citizens seized brick-bats, and such other weapons as they could lay their hands on ; and the guard came rushing forward, ready to open fire upon the Indians. But Governor Harrison calmly ordered them not to fire. Then, turning to Tecumseh, he told him that he should hold no more communication with him, but that, as he had come under protec- tion of the council-fire, he might depart unharmed. Tecumseh and 262 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. chiefs had recently entered into with the governor at Fort Wayne, he and his confederate tribes would regard as null and void. Soon after this, Governor Harrison, anxious to conciliate, visited Tecumseh at his camp on the Tippecanoe River, a branch of the Upper Wabash, some two hundred miles above Vincennes. He was politely received by the Indian chieftain ; but he was informed, in language courteous but decided, that, though the Indians were very unwilling to go to war with the United States, they were de- termined that the land recently ceded should not be given up, and his companions retired to their encampment. That night the mili- tia of Vincennes were under arms, every moment expecting an at- tack. The night, however, passed without any alarm. In the morning Tecumseh called upon the governor, expressed regret for his conduct the day before, and reiterated his declaration that he had no hostile intentions, but was still firm in his position that no more land should be ceded to the whites without the consent of the chiefs of all the tribes ; and that the treaty which a few of the Harrison’s interview with tecumseh. WILLIAM EE NR Y HARRISON. 263 that no other treaty should ever be made without the consent of all the tribes. This Avas ridiculously assuming that all the land on the continent belonged to the Indians in common, and that tribes on the St. Lawrence could not enter into a treaty without the consent of tribes upon the Gulf. Months rolled on, while Tecumseh and the Prophet were busy in their hostile preparations. Marauding bands of Indians, whom they professed to be unable to control, were perpetrating innumer- able annoyances. Horses were stolen, houses plundered, and the frontier settlements, which had now become quite numerous, were thrown into a state of great alarm. Tecumseh set out on a journey to enlist the southern Indians in his confederacy. The posture of affairs became so threatening, that it was decided that the governor should visit the Prophet's town with an armed force, to observe what was going on, and to overawe by an exhibition of power, but to avoid hostilities if possible. Nearly a thousand troops were col- lected for this enterprise at Fort Harrison, on the Wabash, about sixty miles above Vincennes. The army commenced its march on the 28th of Octobei’, 1812. Conscious of the bravery and sagacity of. their enemies, they moved in two bands, on each side of the Indian trail, over the prairies, in such order that they could instantly be formed into line of battle, or thrown into a hollow square. Their route led them along the east bank of the Wabash, through an open prairie country. Early in November they approached the valley of the Tippecanoe, and en- camped within ten miles of the Prophet’s town. The next morn- ing, the 5th, as they resumed their march, several parties of Indians were seen prowling about ; but they evaded all attempts at com- munication, replying only to such endeavors with defiant and insult- ing gestures. When they had arrived within three miles of the town, three Indians of rank made their appearance, and inquired why Governor Harrison was approaching them in so hostile an atti- tude. After a short conference, arrangements were made for a meeting the next day, to agree upon terms of peace. But Governor Harrison was too well acquainted with the Indian character to be deceived by such protestations. Selecting a favor- able spot for his night’s encampment, he took every precaution against surprise. His troops were posted in a hollow square, and slept upon their arms. Each corps was ordered, in case of an 264 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. attack, to maintain its position at every hazard, until relieved. The dragoons were placed in the centre, and were directed, should there be any alarm, immediately to parade, dismounted, and hold them- selves in readiness to relieve the point assailed. The most minute arrangements were given to meet every conceivable contingency. The troops threw themselves upon the ground for rest ; but every man had his accoutrements on, his loaded musket by his side, and his bayonet fixed. The wakeful governor, between three and four o’clock in the morning, had risen, and was sitting in conversation with his aides by the embers of a waning fire. It was a chill, cloudy morning, with a drizzling rain. In the darkness the Indians had crept as near as possible, and just then, with a savage yell, rushed, with all the desperation which superstition and passion most highly inflamed could give, upon the left flank of the little army. The savages had been amply provided with guns and ammunition by the English. Their war-whoop was accompanied with an incessant shower of bullets. The camp-fires were instantly extinguished, as the light aided the Indians in their aim. With hideous yells, the Indian bands rushed on, not doubting a speedy and an entire victory. But Gen- eral Harrison’s troops stood as immovable as the rocks around them until the day dawned: they then made a simultaneous charge with the bayonet; and swept everything before them. The wretched Indians found the predictions of their Prophet utterly false ; for the bullets and the bayonets of the white man pierced their bodies with appalling slaughter. The Prophet was present to witness this terrible defeat of his picked braves. The Indians, even when most reckless,' were careful to conceal themselves as much as possible be- hind trees and rocks ; consequently, in most of their battles, they lost but few in killed and wounded : but in this case, when they fled to the swamp, they left sixty-one dead upon the field, and one hun- dred and twenty bleeding and helpless. Though the victory was entire, the loss of the Americans was fully equal to that of the Indians. General Harrison was exposed like all his men. One bullet passed through the rim of his hat ; another struck his saddle, and, glancing, hit his thigh ; a third severely wounded the horse on which he rode. His coolness and good generalship were so con- spicuous as to add greatly to his reputation ; and subsequently the WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 265 battle of Tippecanoe became a watchword to inspire the zeal of those who were elevating him to the presidency of the United States. After burying the dead and taking care of the wounded, they burned the Indian town, and destroyed everything which could aid the sav- ages in their future hostilities, and returned to Vincennes. Tecum seh was then far away in the South, endeavoring to rouse the Indians there. But the tribes in the Northwest, disappointed by the false predictions of the Prophet, and disheartened by their defeat, began to send deputies to Vincennes to secure peace. Soon, however, Tecumseh returned ; our second war with Great Britain commenced ; and the savages were drawn into an alliance with the English, and were animated to renew hostilities with more despera- tion than ever before. Governor Harrison had now all his energies tasked to the utmost. The British, descending from the Canadas, were of themselves a very formidable force; but with their savage allies, rushing like wolves from the forest, searching out every remote farm-house, burning, plundering, scalping, torturing, the wide frontier was plunged into a state of consternation which even the most vivid im- agination can but faintly conceive. The war-whoop was resounding everywhere through the solitudes of the forest. The horizon was illuminated with the conflagration of the cabins of the settlers. General Hull had made the ignominious surrender of his forces at Detroit. Under these despairing circumstances, Governor Harrison was appointed by President Madison commander-in-chief of the Northwestern army, with orders to retake Detroit, and to protect the frontiers. To meet the emergency, he was invested with almost unlimited authority. His army was to be collected from widely dispersed cabins, where the women and the children would thus be left un- protected. His men were entirely ignorant of discipline. His offi- cers were inexperienced. There was then neither railroad nor steam- boat ; and almost everything for the supply of the army had to be transported over the wildest, roughest roads, from the Atlantic States. To reach Detroit, it was necessary for him to traverse a swampy forest, two hundred miles in extent, without roads ; and the wilderness was ranged by the prowling Indian, ever liable to burst upon him from his ambush. At Detroit he would encounter the trained soldiers of England, veterans of a hundred battles, under 266 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. leaders of renown, and aided by ferocious bands of savages, amply supplied with the most deadly weapons of war. The English had also quite a fleet which commanded the waters of Lake Erie. It would be difficult to place a man in a situation demanding more energy, sagacity, and courage ; but General Harrison was found equal to the position, and nobly and triumphantly did he meet all the responsibilities. A minute account of his adventures, his midnight marches, his bloody conflicts, his sufferings from storms of sleet and snow, from famine, sickness, exposure, destitution, would fill volumes. The renown of such a man as General Harrison is not cheaply gained. It is purchased at a great price. The government, as we have mentioned, invested him with almost absolute power ; but, with all his tireless energy, never did he in the slightest degree abuse that trust. He was a man of winning address, of a gentle and affectionate spirit, and possessed native powers of persuasive eloquence which were very rare. A scene is described at one of their encampments which will illustrate many others. The little army was groping through the forest, on the banks of the Auglaize. Night came on, dark, stormy, and with sheets of rain. The low ground was soon flooded. They had no axes, could build no fires ; and, as they had got ahead of their baggage, they had no food. Some took their saddles, and sat upon them ; others found logs ; others stood in the water, and leaned against the trunks of trees. Thus they passed the miserable night. General Harrison shared all these discomforts with his men. As he sat in the pouring rain, wrapped in his cloak, with his staff around him, he called upon one of his officers, who had a fine voice, to sing a humorous Irish song, with the chorus, — “ Now ’s the time for mirth and glee : Sing and laugh and dance with me.” The troops joined in the refrain ; and thus, in that black night of storm and flood, the forest echoed with sounds of merriment. General Harrison had succeeded in raising a force of about six thousand men. He soon became satisfied that Detroit could be taken only in a winter-campaign, when the vast morasses, being frozen, could be traversed by the army. His right wing was ren- dezvoused at Sandusky. About eight hundred men, under General Winchester, marched to the mouth of the River Raisin, where they WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 267 •were attacked, routed, and compelled to sun-ender. All the wounded were massacred by the Indians. Dreadful was the suffering that this disaster caused ; and it was a long time before it could be known who were prisoners, and who had fallen beneath the bloody knives of the savages. This unfortunate expedition had been undertaken without the knowledge of General Harrison. Having heard of the movement, he did everything in his power, but in vain, to avert the disastrous results. Nine hundred of the most promising young men of the Northwest were lost in this melancholy adventure. This was the latter part of January, 1813. General Harrison, who had now received the appointment of major-general in the United States army, found it necessary to go into winter-quarters ; though be fitted out three expeditions against the Indians, one only of which proved successful. The government at length, urged by General Harrison, prepared for the construction of a fleet to command the waters of the lake. General Harrison had an unstable body of men at Fort Meigs ; the enlistments being for short periods, and it being impossible to hold the men after the term of service had expired. The most arduous of General Harrison’s labors were his almost superhuman exertions to raise an army. In August of 1814, the British, with their savage allies, appeared before Sandusky, which was protected by Fort Stephenson. They approached by their vessels along the lake, and also, with a land force, through the forest, followed by their howling allies. They were, however, after a stern battle, hand- somely repulsed. On the 10th of September, Commodore Perry, with his gallant squadron, met the British fleet, and, at the close of an heroic struggle, had the pleasure of announcing that they were ours. General Harrison was now prepared to carry the war home to the enemy. He crossed the lake, took possession of Sand- wich, the British retreating before him, and then sent a brigade across the strait, which seized Detroit. The British retreated up the Thames, pursued by the Americans. Pi’octor led the British forces, and Tecumseh led his savage allies. The foe made a stand on the banks of the Thames. The battle was short and decisive. Our dragoons rode impetuously over the ranks of the British, and compelled an almost instantaneous surrender. The Indians con- tinued the fight a little longer, but were at length dispersed, leav- ing their chief, Tecumseh, dead upon the field. All the stores of the British army fell into the hands of the victors. 268 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. General Harrison won the love of his soldiers by always sharing with them their fatigue. His whole baggage, while pursuing the foe up the Thames, was carried in a valise; and his bedding con- sisted of a single blanket lashed over his saddle. Thirty-five Brit- ish officers, his prisoners of war, supped with him after the battle. The only fare he could give them was beef roasted before the fire, without bread or salt. This great victory gave peace to the Northwestern frontier; and General Harrison decided to send a large portion of his force to Niagara, to assist in repelling the foe, who were concentrating there. Fifteen hundred men were transported by the fleet to Buf- falo, which they reached on the 24th of October, 1814. In consequence of some want of harmony with the Secretary of War, General Harrison resigned his commission, much to the regret of President Madison : he, however, still continued to be employed in the service of his country. He was appointed to treat with the Indian tribes ; and he conducted the negotiations so skillfully as to secure the approbation both of the Indians and of the United States government. In 1816 General Harrison was chosen a member of the national House of Representatives to represent the District of Ohio. It was not possible that a man who had occupied posts so responsible, who had often thwarted the at- tempted frauds of government contractors, and who had defended the weak against the powerful, should not have some bitter ene- mies. In the contest which preceded his election to Congress, he had been accused of corruption in respect to the commissariat of the army. Immediately upon taking his seat, he called for an in- vestigation of the charge. A committee was appointed : his vin- dication was triumphant; and a high compliment was paid to his patriotism, disinterestedness, and devotion to the public service. For these services a gold medal was presented to him, with the thanks of Congress. In Congress he proved an active member ; and, whenever he spoke, it was with a force of reason, and power of eloquence, which arrested the attention of all the members. When the celebrated debate came up respecting the conduct of General Jackson during the Seminole war, he eloquently supported the resolutions of cen- sure, while he paid a noble tribute to the patriotism and good in- tentions of the reckless and law-defying general. In the splendid WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 269 speech which he made upon this occasion, which was alike replete with eloquence, true philosophy, and the most exalted patriotism, he said, — “ I am sure, sir, that it is not the intention of any gentleman upon this floor to rob General Jackson of a single ray of glory, much less to wound his feelings, or injure his reputation. If the resolutions pass, I would address him thus : ‘ In the performance of a sacred duty, imposed by their construction of the Constitution, the representatives of the people have found it necessary to disap- prove of a single act of your brilliant career. They have done it in the full conviction, that the hero who has guarded her rights in the field will bow with reverence to the civil institutions of his country ; that he has admitted as his creed, that the character of the soldier can never be complete without eternal reverence to the character of the citizen. Go, gallant chief, and bear with you the gratitude of your country ; go, under the full conviction, that, as her glory is identified with yours, she has nothing more dear to her than her laws, nothing more sacred than her Constitution. Even an unintentional error shall be sanctified to her service. It will teach posterity that the government which could disapprove the conduct of a Marcellus will have the fortitude to crush the vices of a Marius.’ ” General Jackson was not a man to bear the slightest opposition. These noble sentiments, as uttered by General Harrison, he never forgot or forgave. In 1819 Harrison was elected to the Senate of Ohio ; and in 1824, as one of the presidential electors of that State, he gave his vote for Henry Clay, and in the same year was chosen to the Senate of the United States. The half-crazed John Randolph made one of his characteristic attacks, virulent and senseless, accusing him of be- ing a black-cockade Federalist, and of associating with gentlemen of that party. Mr. Harrison rose, and, with that dignified and at- tractive eloquence which he had at his command, said, — “ I am seriously charged with the heinous offense of associating with Federal gentlemen. I plead guilty. I respected the Revolu- tionary services of President John Adams, and have paid him that courtesy which was due to him as a man and as Chief Magistrate. I have also associated with such men as John Marshall and James A. Bayard. Is the acknowledgment of such guilt to throw me out of the pale of political salvation ? 270 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. “ On the other hand, I am on intimate terms with Mr. Jefferson, Mr. Gallatin, and the whole Virginia delegation, among whom I have many kinsmen and dear friends. These were my principal associates in Philadelphia, in whose mess I have often met the gen- tleman who is now my accuser, and with whom I have spent some of the happiest hours of my life. It is not in my nature to be a violent or proscriptive partisan ; but I have given a firm support to the Republican administrations of Jefferson, Madison, and Monroe. I hope the senator from Virginia is answered.” In the latter part of the year 1828, President John Quincy Ad- ams appointed General Harrison minister plenipotentiary to the Republic of Colombia; but General Jackson, immediately after his inauguration in 1829, implacably recalled him. While he was in Colombia, the proposition was agitated of laying aside the Consti- tution, and investing Bolivar with the dictatorship. General Har- rison addressed a letter to Bolivar, who was his personal friend, entreating him not to accede to this arrangement. This document was written with so much elegance of diction, such glowing elo- quence, and such enlightened statesmanship, as to secure the admi- ration of every one who read it. A few sentences only can we quote as specimens of the whole : — “ A successful warrior is no longer regarded as entitled to the first place in the temple of fame. In this enlightened age, the hero of the field, and the successful leader of armies, may, for the mo- ment, attract attention ; but it is such as will be bestowed upon the passing meteor, whose blaze is no longer remembered when it is no longer seen. To be esteemed eminently great, it is necessary tD be eminently good. The qualities of the hero and the general must be devoted to the advantage of mankind before he will be per- mitted to assume the title of their benefactor. If the fame of our Washington depended upon his military achievements, would the common consent of the world allow him the preeminence he pos- sesses ? The victories at Trenton, Monmouth, and York, brilliant as they were, exhibiting, as they certainly did, the highest grade of military talents, are scarcely thought of. The source of the veneration and esteem which are entertained for his character by every class of politicians — the monarchist and aristocrat, as well as the republican — is to be found in his undeviating and exclusive devotedness to his country. No selfish consideration was ever suf- WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 271 fered to intrude itself into his mind. General, the course which he pursued is open to you ; and it depends upon yourself to attain the eminence which he has reached before you.” Upon General Harrison’s return from Colombia to the United States, he retired to his farm at North "Bend, on the Ohio, and in the enjoyment of a humble competency, devoted himself to the peaceful pursuits of agriculture. With true Roman dignity, he ac- cepted the office of clerk to the court of Hamilton County, as a means of adding to his limited income. In 1831 he was chosen to give the annual discourse before the agricultural society of that county. General Harrison had once owned a distillery ; but, perceiving the sad effects of whisky upon the surrounding population, he promptly abandoned the business, at a very considerable pecuniary sacrifice. In his very admirable address, he, with great fervor and eloquence, entreats his brother-farmers not to convert their corn into that poison which was found so deadly both to the body and to the soul. “ I speak more freely,” said he, “ of the practice of convert- ing the material of the staff of life into an article which is so de- structive of health and happiness, because in that way I have sinned myself ; but in that way I shall sin no more.” The subject of slavery was at this time fearfully agitating our land. General Harrison, though very decidedly opposed to any in- terference on the part of the general government with slavery as it existed in the States, was still the warm friend of universal freedom. In replying to the accusation of being friendly to slavery, he said, — “ From my earliest youth, and to the present moment, I have been the ardent friend of human liberty. At the age of eighteen, I became a member of an abolition society established at Richmond, Va., the object of which was to ameliorate the condition of slaves, and procure their freedom by every legal means. The obligations which I then came under I have faithfully performed. I have been the means of liberating 'many slaves, but never placed one in bond- age. I was the first person to introduce into Congress the proposi- tion, that all the country above Missouri should never have slavery admitted into it.” Again, the high Christian integrity of this noble man is devel- oped in the reply to a letter from a gentleman wishing to know his views upon the subject of dueling. The whole letter was admira- 272 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. ble, and was one of the most effective attacks upon that absurd and barbarous system that has ever been made. In conclusion, be says, — “In relation to my present sentiments, a sense of higher obli- gations than human laws or human opinions can impose has de- termined me never on any occasion to accept a challenge, or seek redress for a personal injury, by a resort to the laws which compose the code of honor.” In 1836 the friends of General Harrison brought him forward as a candidate for the presidency. Mr. Van Buren was the adminis- tration candidate, supported by the almost omnipotent influence of General Jackson. The opposition party could not unite, and four candidates were brought forward ; but the canvass disclosed the popularity of General Harrison, as he received seventy-three electo- ral votes without any general concert among his friends. The Democratic party triumphed over their disorganized opponents and Mr. Van Buren was chosen President. At the close of Mr. Van Buren’s four years of service, he was re- nominated by his party, and William Henry Harrison was unani- mously nominated by the Whigs, by a convention in which twenty- three out of the twenty-six States were represented. John Tyler of Virginia was nominated for the Vice-Presidency. The contest, as usual, was very animated. General Jackson gave all his in- fluence to prevent General Harrison’s election ; but his triumph was signal. He received two hundred and thirty-four electoral votes, leaving but sixty for Mr. Van Buren. He was then sixty-seven years of age. It may be doubted if any of his predecessors had taken the presidential chair better prepared for its responsibilities, in ability, education, experience, and immaculate integrity, than was William Henry Harrison. His passage from his plain home to the Capitol presented a con- stant succession of brilliant pageants and enthusiastic greetings. A vast concourse attended his inauguration. His address on the occasion was in accordance with his antecedents, and gave great sat- isfaction ; expressing the fear that we were in danger of placing too much power in the hands of the President, and declaring his inten- tion of exercising the powers intrusted to him with great moderation. The Cabinet which he formed, with Daniel Webster at its head as Secretary of State, was one of the most brilliant with which any WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 273 President had ever been surrounded. Never were the prospects of an administration more flattering, or the hopes of the country more sanguine. In the midst of these bright and joyous prospects, Gen- eral Harrison was seized by a pleurisy fever, and after a few days of violent sickness died on the 4th of April, just one short month after his inauguration. In the delirium of his sickness, as if aware that death was approaching, and fancying that he was addressing his sue- cessoi’, he said, — “Sir, I wish you to understand the principles of the government: I wish them carried out. I ask nothing more.” These were his last words. His death was universally regarded as one of the greatest of national calamities. The nation mourned with unfeigned grief. Never, then, since the death of Washington, were there throughout our land such demonstrations of sorrow. A careful scrutiny of his character and life must give him a high posi- tion in the affection and the esteem of every intelligent mind. Not one single spot can be found to sully the brightness of his fame ; and through all the ages Americans will pronounce with love and reverence the name of William Henry Harrison. 18 CHAPTER X. JOHN TYLER. His Parentage. — Education and Scholarship. — Early Distinction. — Success at the Bar and in Political Life. — Democratic Principles — Course in the Senate. — Elected Vice-Presi- dent. — Accession to the Presidency. — False Position, and Embarrassments. — Retire- ment from Office. — Joins in the Rebellion. — Death. John Tyler was the favored child of affluence and high social position. His father possessed large landed estates in Virginia and was one of the most distinguished men of his day ; filling the offices of RESIDENCE OF JOHN TYLER. speaker of the House of Delegates, judge of the Supreme Court, and governor of the State. John was born in Charles City County, Va., the 29th of March, 1790. He enjoyed, in his youthful years, all JOHN TYLER. 275 the advantages which wealth and parental distinction could confer. At the early age of twelve he entered William and Mary College; and graduated, with much honor, when but seventeen years old. His commencement address upon “Female Education” was pro- nounced to be a very masterly performance. After graduating, he devoted himself with great assiduity to the study of the law, partly with his father and partly with Edmund Randolph, one of the most distinguished lawyers of Virginia. At nineteen years of age he commenced the practice of the law. His success was rapid and astonishing. It is said that three months had not elapsed ere there was scarcely a case on the docket of the court in which he was not retained. When but twenty-one years of age he was almost unanimously elected to a seat in the state Legislature. He connected himself with the Democratic party, and warmly advocated the measures of Jefferson and Madison. For five successive years he was elected to the Legislature, receiving nearly the unanimous vote of his county. Sympathizing cordially with the administration in the second war with England, when the British were ravaging the shores of Chesapeake Bay, he exerted himself strenuously to raise a military force to resist them. When but twenty-six years of age he was elected a member of Congress. Here he acted earnestly and ably with the Democratic party, opposing a national bank, internal im- provements by the general government, a protective tariff, and advocating a strict construction of the Constitution, and the most careful vigilance over State Rights. His labors in Congress were so arduous, that, before the close of his second term, he found it necessary to resign, and retire to his estate in Charles City County to recruit his health. He, however, soon after consented to take his seat in the state Legislature, where his influence was powerful in promoting public works of great utility. Many of his speeches developed states- manlike views, and powers of eloquence of a high order. With a reputation thus constantly increasing, he was chosen by a very large majority of votes, in 1825, governor of his native State, — a high honor ; for Virginia had many able men to be competitors for the prize. His administration was signally a successful one. He urged forward internal improvements, strove to remove sec- tional jealousies, and did much to rouse the people to an apprecia- tion of their own interests. His popularity secured his reelection. 276 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. John Randolph, a brilliant, erratic, half-crazed man, then repre- sented Virginia in the Senate of the United States. A portion of the Democratic party was displeased with Mr. Randolph’s way- ward course, and brought forward John Tyler as his opponent; considering him the only man in Virginia of sufficient popularity to succeed against the renowned orator of Roanoke. Mr. Tyler was the victor ; and, in taking his seat in the Senate, he said to his Democratic constituents, — “The principles on which I have acted,' without abandonment in any one instance, for the last sixteen years, in Congress, and in the legislative hall of this State, will be the principles by which I shall regulate my future political life.” John Quincy Adams was then President of the United States, having been placed in that office by the Whigs. Mr. Tyler imme- diately upon his election declared, in a public letter, his uncom- promising hostility to the principles of Mr. Adams’s administration. “ In his message to Congress,” wrote Mr. Tyler, “ I saw an almost total disregard of the federative principle, a more latitudi- narian construction of the Constitution than has ever before been insisted on. From the moment of seeing that message, all who have known anything of me have known that I stood distinctly opposed to this administration.” In accordance with these professions, upon taking his seat in the Senate, he joined the ranks of the opposition. He opposed the tariff ; he spoke against and voted against the bank, as un- constitutional ; he strenuously opposed all restrictions upon slavery, resisted all projects of internal improvements by the general gov- ernment, and avowed his sympathy with Mr. Calhoun’s views of nullification; he declared that General Jackson, by his opposition to the nullifiers, had abandoned the principles of the Democratic party. Such was Mr. Tyler’s record in Congress, — a record in per- fect accordance with the principles which he had always avowed. Perhaps there was never hate more unrelenting than that with which John C. Calhoun and Andrew Jackson regarded each other. Mr. Tyler was in sympathy with Mr. Calhoun; voted with him;- and it thus happened that Mr. Tyler was found in opposition to Jackson’s administration. This hostility to Jackson caused Mr. Tyler’s retirement from the Senate, after his election to a second term. The Legislature of Virginia passed resolutions calling upon JOHN TYLER. 277 their Senators in Congress to vote to expunge from the journal of the Senate a vote censuring General Jackson for his usurpation of power in removing the deposits of public money from the United States bank, and placing them in state banks. Mr. Tyler had cordially approved of this censure, avowing his convictions that General Jackson had usurped powers which the Constitution did not confer upon him. He had also very emphatically expressed his belief that it was the duty of the representative to obey the directions of his constituents. Under these circumstances he felt constrained to resign his seat. Returning to Virginia, he resumed the practice of his profession. There was a split in the Democratic party. His friends still re- garded him as a true J effersonian, gave him a public dinner, and showered compliments upon him. He had now attained the age of forty-six. His career had been very brilliant. In consequence of his devotion to public business, his private affairs had fallen into some disorder ; and it was not without satisfaction that he resumed the practice of the law, and devoted himself to the culture of his plantation. Soon after this he removed to Williamsburg, for the better edu- cation of his children ; and again took his seat in the Legislature of Virginia. He had thus far belonged very decidedly to the Cal- houn or States-Rights party. The complications of party in this country are inexplicable. There have been so many diverse and clashing interests, the same name being often used in different sec- tions to represent almost antagonistic principles, that one need not be surprised to find Mr. Tyler, without any change of views, taking the name of a Southern Whig, still opposing the tariff, the bank, and advocating, to the fullest extent, State Rights. He was still what the North would call a Democrat. By the Southern Whigs he was sent to the national convention at Harrisburg to nominate a President in 1839. The majority of votes was given to General Harrison, a genuine Whig, much to the disappointment of the South, who wished for Henry Clay. To conciliate the Southern Whigs, and to secure their vote, the conven- tion then nominated John Tyler for Vice-President. It was well known that he was not in sympathy with the Whig party in the North : but the Vice-President has but very little power in the government ; his main and almost only duty being to preside over 278 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. the meetings of the Senate. Thus it happened that a W aig Presi- dent, and, in reality, a Democratic Vice-President, were chosen. In 1841 Mr. Tyler was inaugurated Vice-President of the United States. In one short month from that time President Harrison died, and Mr. Tyler thus found himself, to his own su -prise and that of the whole nation, an occupant of the presidential chair. This was a new test of the stability of our institutions, as it was the first time in the history of our country that such an event had occurred. Mr. Tyler was at his home in Williamsburg when he received the unexpected tidings of the death of President Harrison. He hastened to Washington, and, on the 6th of April, was inaugurated into his high and responsible office. Pie was placed in a position of exceed- ing delicacy and difficulty. All his life long he had been opposed to the main principles of the party which had brought him into power. He had ever been a consistent, honest man, with an un- blemished record. General Harrison had selected a Whig Cabinet. Should he retain them, and thus surround himself with counselors whose views were antagonistic to his own ? or, on the other hand, should he turn against the party which had elected him, and select a Cabinet in harmony with himself, and which would oppose all those views which the Whigs deemed essential to the public wel- fare ? This was his fearful dilemma. President Tyler deserves more charity than he has received. He issued an address to the people, carefully worded, which gave gen- eral satisfaction. He invited the Cabinet which President Harrison had selected to retain their seats. He recommended a day of fast- ing and prayer, that God would guide and bless us. The Whigs carried through Congress a bill for the incorporation of the fiscal bank of the United States. The President, after ten days’ delay, returned it with his veto. He suggested, however, that he would approve of a bill drawn up upon such a plan as he pro- posed. Such a bill was accordingly prepared, and privately sub- mitted to him. He gave it his approval. It was passed without alteration, and he sent it back with his veto. Here commenced the open rupture. It is said that Mr. Tyler was provoked to this meas- ure by a published letter from the Hon. John M. Botts, a distin- guished Virginia Whig, containing the following sentences, which severely touched the pride of the President : — “ Captain Tyler is making a desperate effort to set himself up JOHN TYLER. 279 with the Locofocos : hut he ’ll be headed yet ; and I regret to say that it will end badly for him. He will be an object of execration with both parties, — with the one, for vetoing our bill, which was bad enough ; with the other, for signing a worse one : but he is hardly entitled to sympathy. You ’ll get a bank bill, but one that will serve only to fasten him, and to which no stock will be sub- scribed ; and when he finds out that he is not wiser in banking than all the rest of the world, we may get a better.” The opposition now exultingly received the President into their arms. The pai'ty which elected him denounced him bitterly. All the members of his Cabinet, excepting Mr. Webster, resigned. The Whigs of Congress, both the Senate and the House, held a meeting, and issued an address to the people of the United States, proclaim- ing that all political alliance between the Whigs and President Tyler was at an end. Still the President attempted to conciliate. He appointed a new Cabinet of distinguished Whigs and Conservatives, carefully leaving out all strong party men. Though opposed to a protective tariff, he gave his sanction to a tariff bill which passed Congress. Thus he placed himself in a position in which he found that he could claim the support of neither party. The Democrats had a majority in the House ; the Whigs, in the Senate. Mr. Webster soon found it necessary to resign, forced out by the pressure of his Whig friends. Thus the four years of Mr. Tyler’s unfortunate administration passed sadly away. No one was satisfied. The land was filled with murmurs and vituperation. Whigs and Democrats alike assailed him. More and more, however, he brought himself into sympathy with his old friends the Democrats, until, at the close of his term, he gave his whole influence to the support of Mr. Polk, the Demo- cratic candidate, for his successor. Several very important measures were adopted during his administration. Situated as he was, it is more than can be expected of human nature that he should, in all cases, have acted in the wisest manner ; but it will probably be the verdict of all candid men, in a careful review of his career, that John Tyler was placed in a position of such exceeding difficulty, that he could not pursue any course which would not expose him to the most severe denunciation. Mr. Tyler earnestly and eloquently opposed any protective tariff. In glowing periods he depicted the abounding prosperity of the 280 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. North, and the dilapidation and decay of the South. The fact no one could deny, that the North was bounding forward in the most brilliant career of prosperity, while the South presented a general aspect of paralysis and desolation. “ The protective tariff,” said Mr. Tyler, “is the cause of our calamities and our decay. We buy dear, and sell cheap. That is the simple secret. The tariff raises the price of all we buy, and diminishes the demands for our prod- ucts abroad by diminishing the power of foreign nations to buy them.” The reply to this cannot be better given than in tbe words of Mr. Parton, in his “ Life of Andrew Jackson : ” “ The Southern system — be it wrong or be it right, be it wise or be it unwise — is one that does not attract emigrants ; and the Northern system does. That is the great cause. From the hour when Columbus sprang, exulting, upon these Western shores, the great interest of America has been emigration. That country of the New World has prospered most which has attracted the greatest number of the best emigrants by affording them the best chance to attain the sole object of emigra- tion, — the improvement of their condition ; and that portion of that country has outstripped the rest which offered to emigrants the most promising field of labor. For a man, view him in what light you may, is the most precious thing in the world : he is wealth in its most concentrated form. A stalwart, virtuous, skillful, thoughtful man, progenitor of an endless line of such, planted in our Western wilds to hew out home and fortune with his own glorious and beau- tiful right hand and heart, is worth, to the State that wins him, a thousand times his weight in Kohinoor. Such have poured into the Northern States, in an abounding flood, these fifty years. Behold what they have wrought I “ Such emigrants go to the South in inconsiderable numbers, partly because from infancy they learn to loathe the very name of slavery. They sicken at the thought of it. They shrink from con- tact with it. They take Wesley’s characterization of it in the most literal acceptation of the words, and esteem it the SUM of all vil- lainies, — that solely possible crime which includes in its single self all the wrong that man can wreak on man. Whether they are right or whether they are wrong in so thinking, is not a question here. They think so ; and, if they did not, they would not go in great numbers to the South, because it does not afford to a man with six JOHN TYLER. 281 children and a hundred dollars the immediate opportunities for prof- itable and congenial labor which the North affords. On the prairies, in the forests of the North, the struggling emigrant finds himself sur- rounded by neighbors whose condition, antecedents, prospects, social standing, are all similar to his own. There is no great proprietor to overtop him. There is no slave with whom he has to compete. He forgets that there is any such thing as a graduated social scale, and feels, that, by virtue of his manhood alone, he stands on a level with the best.” It has been well said, that nothing is ever settled in this world until it is settled right. There can be no peace, and no abiding prosperity, until the brotherhood of man is recognized. True de- mocracy demands impartial suffrage and equal rights for all ; and if anything be certain this is certain, — that true democracy will never rest content" until this shall be attained. Whoever, therefore, places himself in opposition to this fundamental principle of true democracy, does but perpetuate conflict, and postpone the long- looked-for hour when the bitter strife of parties shall cease. It is in vain for the demon of aristocracy and of exclusive privilege to clothe itself in the garb of democracy and assume its sacred name. The masses cannot long be thus deceived, and those defrauded of their rights will not acquiesce unresistingly. It is not slavery alone which saps the foundations of public pros- perity : it is any attempt to keep any portion of the people igno- rant and degraded, and deprived of privileges conferred upon others no more deserving. This was the political vice of John Tyler and his associates. They strained every nerve to keep millions of their fellow-countrymen in the South in a state of the most abject ser- vility, ignorance, and degradation ; and then, as they looked around upon the general aspect of rags, impoverishment, and degradation in the South, and contrasted it with the beauty and wealth and power of those States in the North where every man was encouraged to feel himself a man , and to educate to the highest possible degree his children, and to surround his home with every embellishment which taste and industry could create, they refused to admit the true cause for the difference. In a beautiful strain of philosophic truth, the Hon. Mr. Dallas said in the Senate of the United States, in a debate upon this sub- ject in 1862, “ The lights of science and the improvements of art, 282 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. which vivify and accelerate elsewhere, cannot penetrate, or, if they do, penetrate with dilatory inefficiency, among the operatives of the South. They are merely instinctive and passive. While the intel- • lectual industry of other parts of this country springs elastically forward at every fresh impulse, and manual labor is propelled and redoubled by countless inventions, machines, and contrivances, in- stantly understood and at once exercised, the South remains station- ary, inaccessible to such encouraging and invigorating aids. Nor is it possible to be blind to the moral effects of this species of labor upon those freemen among whom it exists. A disrelish for humble and hardy occupation, a pride adverse to drudgery and toil, a dread that to partake in the employments allotted to color may be accom- panied also by its degradation, are natural and inevitable. “When, in fact, the senator from South Carolina asserts that ‘ slaves are too improvident, too incapable of that minute, constant, delicate attention, and that persevering industry, which are essen- tial to the success of manufacturing establishments,’ he himself admits the defect in the condition of Southern labor by which the progress of his favorite section must be retarded. He admits an inability to keep pace with the rest of the world. He admits an in- herent weakness, — a weakness neither engendered nor aggravated by the tariff.” These views, now that slavery is dead, are as practically impor- tant as ever ; for they do conclusively show that it is one of the first- principles of political economy that there should not be fostered in any community a servile and degraded class ; that it should be the first endeavor of the state to inspire every individual, without a single exception, with the ambition to make the most of himself, intellectually, physically, and morally, that he possibly can. Every facility should be presented which wisdom can devise to promote this elevation of the whole community. Everywhere a poor, igno- rant, degraded family is an element of weakness and impoverish- ment. But Mr. Tyler, from the beginning to the end of his career, was the earnest advocate of slavery, — of its perpetuation and ex- tension. On the 4th of March, 1845, he retired from the harassments of office, to the regret of neither party, and probably to his own un- speakable relief. His first wife, Miss Letitia Christian, died in Washington in 1842, and in June, 1844, President Tyler was again JOHN TYLER. 283 married, at New York, to Miss Julia Gardiner, a young lady of many personal and intellectual accomplishments. The remainder of his days Mr. Tyler passed mainly in retirement at his beautiful home, — Sherwood Forest, Charles City County, Ya. A polished gentleman in his manners, richly furnished with information from books and experience in the world, and possessing brilliant powers of conversation, his family circle was the scene of unusual attractions. With sufficient means for the exercise of a generous hospitality, he might have enjoyed a serene old age with the few friends who gathered around him, were it not for the storms of civil war which his own principles and policy had helped to in- troduce. When the great Rebellion rose, which the State-Rights and nulli- fying doctrines of Mr. John C. Calhoun had inaugurated, President Tyler renounced his allegiance to the United States, and joined the Confederates. He was chosen a member of their Congress ; and while engaged in active measures to destroy, by force of arms, the government over which he had once presided, he was taken sick and, after a short illness, died. There were but few to weep over his grave, excepting his own family, to whom he was much en- deared, and the limited circle of his personal friends. His last hours must have been gloomy; for he could not conceal from him- self that the doctrines which he had advocated were imperiling the very existence of the nation. Unfortunately for his memory, the name of John Tyler must forever be associated with all the misery and crime of that terrible Rebellion whose cause he openly es- poused. It is with sorrow that history records that a President of the United States died while defending the flag of rebellion, which was arrayed in deadly warfare against that national banner which he had so often sworn to protect. CHAPTER XI. JAMES KNOX POLK. Ancestry of Mr. Polk. — His Early Distinction. — His Success as a Lawyer. — Political Life. — Long Service in Congress. — Speaker in the House. — Governor of Tennessee. — Anec- dote. — Political Views. — Texas Annexation. — Candidate for the Presidency. — Mexican War. — Its Object and Results. — Retirement. — Sickness. — Death. Near the southwestern frontier of North Carolina, on the eastern banks of the Catawba, there is a region now called the County of Mecklenburg. In this remote, almost unexplored wilderness, a small RESIDENCE OF JAMES K. POLK. settlement was commenced by the Scotch- Irish in the year 1735. Among these settlers there were two brothers by the name of Polk. Both of them were men of much excellence of character and of ex- JAMES KNOX POLK. 285 tensive influence. Early in the spring of 1775 news reached those distant settlers beneath the primeval forests of the atrocities which the crown of Great Britain was perpetrating against the liberties of this country in Massachusetts. There were several public meetings held to discuss these wrongs. At length, Colonel Thomas Polk, the elder of these brothers, “ well known and well acquainted in the surrounding counties, a man of great excellence and merited popularity,” was empowered to call a convention of the representatives of the people. Colonel Polk issued his summons ; and there was a convention in Charlotte, the shire-town of the county, held on the 19th of May, 1775. About forty of the principal citizens of the county of Mecklenburg were present as delegates. At this meeting, the announcement was made, that the first blood of the Revolution had been shed in Lex- ington, Mass. The excitement was intense. Anxious delibera- tions were protracted late into the night, and resumed the next morning. People were, in the mean time, rapidly gathering in large numbers. Resolutions were at length adopted unanimously, which were read from the court-house steps by Colonel Polk, de- claring that “ we, the citizens of Mecklenburg County, do hereby dissolve the political bands which have connected us to the mother .country, and hereby absolve ourselves from all allegiance to the British crown ; and that we do hereby declare ourselves a free and independent people.” This heroic and extraordinary declaration of independence was unquestionably the first that was made. Colonel Thomas Polk, and his brother Ezekiel, who resided then across the border, in South Carolina, were among the most prominent men in this movement. In the course of the war which ensued, Lord Cornwallis established his headquarters at Charlotte, which he called the hot-bed of re- bellion, and the hornet’s nest. But little more is known respecting Ezekiel Polk, who was the grandfather of James Knox Polk, the eleventh President of the United States. He left a son, Samuel, who married Jane Knox. Samuel Polk was a plain, unpretending farmer. James was the eldest son of a family of six sons and four daughters. He was born in Mecklenburg County, N. C., on the 2d of November, 1795. In the year 1806, with his wife and children, and soon after fol- lowed by most of the members of the Polk family, Samuel Polk 286 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. emigrated some two or three hundred miles farther west to the rich valley of the Duck River. Here in the midst of the wilderness, in a region which was subsequently called Maury County, they reared their log huts, and established their new home. In the hard toil of a new farm in the wilderness, James K. Polk spent the early years of his childhood and his youth. His father, adding the pursuits of a surveyor to that of a farmer, gradually increased in wealth until he became one of the leading men of the region. His mother was a superior woman, of strong common sense and earnest piety. Young James often accompanied his father on his surveying tours, and was frequently absent from home for weeks together, climbing the mountains, threading the defiles, exposed to all the vicissitudes of the weather, and not a little in peril from hostile Indians. To a boy of reflective spirit, there is much in such a life to bring out all there is noble in his nature. Very early in life James developed a taste for reading, and ex- pressed the strongest desire to obtain a liberal education. His mother’s training had rendered him methodical in his habits, had taught him punctuality and industry, and had inspired him with lofty principles of morality. James, in the common schools, rapidly became a proficient in all the common branches of an English edu- cation. His health was frail, and his father, fearing that he might not be able to endure a sedentary life, got a situation for him be- hind the counter, hoping to fit him for commercial pursuits. This was to James a bitter disappointment. He had no taste for these duties, and his daily tasks were irksome in the extreme. He remained in this uncongenial occupation but a few weeks, when, at his earnest solicitation, his father removed him, and made arrange- ments for him to prosecute his studies. Soon after, he sent him to Murfreesborough Academy. This was in 1813. With ardor which could scarcely be surpassed, he pressed forward in his studies, and in less than two and a half years, in the autumn of 1815, entered the sophomore class in the University of North Carolina, at Chapel Hill. Here he was one of the most exemplary of scholars, so punct- ual in every exercise, never allowing himself to be absent from a recitation or a religious service, that one of the wags of the college, when he wished to aver the absolute certainty of anything, was in the habit of saying, “ It is as certain as that Polk will get up at the first call.” JAMES KNOX POLK. 287 To every branch of a solid and an accomplished education he alike devoted his energies. He graduated in 1818 with the highest honors, being deemed the best scholar of his class, both in mathe- matics and the classics. He was then twenty-three years of age. Mr. Polk’s health was at that time much impaired by the assiduity with which he had prosecuted his studies. After a short season of relaxation he went to Nashville, and entered the office of Felix Grundy to study law. Mr. Grundy was a man of national fame, not only standing at the head of the bar in Nashville, but having also distinguished himself on the floor of Congress. Here Mr. Polk re- newed his acquaintance with Andrew Jackson, who resided on his plantation, the Hermitage, but a few miles from Nashville. They had probably been slightly acquainted before. When Mrs. Jackson, with her two orphan boys, fled before the army of Cornwallis, she took refuge in Mecklenburg County, and for some time resided with the neighbors of Mr. Polk's father. As soon as he had finished his legal studies, and been admitted to the bar, he returned to Columbia, the shire-town of Maury County, and opened an office. His success was rapid. Very seldom has any young man commenced the practice of the law more thoroughly prepared to meet all of its responsibilities. With rich stores of in- formation, all his faculties well disciplined, and with habits of close and accurate reasoning, he rapidly gained business, and won fame. Mr. Polk’s father was a Jeffersonian Republican, and James K. Polk ever adhered to the same political faith. He was a popular public speaker, and was constantly called upon to address the meet- ings of his party friends. His skill as a speaker was such, that he was popularly called the Napoleon of the stump. He was a man of unblemished morals, genial and courteous in his bearing, and with that sympathetic nature in the joys and griefs of others which ever gave him troops of friends. There is scarcely any investment which a man can make in this world so profitable as pleasant words and friendly smiles, provided always that those words and smiles come honestly from the heart. In 1823 Mr. Polk was elected to the Legislature of Tennessee. Here he gave his strong influence to- wards the election of his friend, Andrew Jackson, to the presidency of the United States. He also procured the passage of a law de- signed to prevent dueling. From principle he was utterly opposed to the practice, and it required no little moral courage for one in 288 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. those rude times and regions to attempt the abrogation of that so- called “ code of honor,” obedience to which was deemed essential to the character of a chivalric gentleman. Mr. Polk, as a “ strict constructionist,” did not think that the Constitution empowered the general government to carry on a sys- tem of internal improvements in the States ; but, with Mr. Monroe, he deemed it important that the government should have that power, and wished to have the Constitution amended that it might be conferred. Subsequently, however, with most of the Southern gentlemen, he became alarmed lest the general government should become so strong as to undertake to interfere with slavery. He therefore gave all his influence to strengthen the state governments, and to check the growth of the central power. In January, 1824, Mr. Polk married Miss Sarah Childress of Rutherford County, Tenn. His bride was altogether worthy of him, — a lady of beauty and of culture. Had some one then whis- pered to him that he was destined to become President of the United States, and that he should select for his companion one who would adorn that distinguished station, he could not have made a more fitting choice. The following anecdote is related of Mrs. Polk, when, in 1848, she was lady of the White House. It should be remembered that Mr. Polk was a Democrat, and Mr. Clay a Whig, and that they had been rival candidates for the presidency. There was quite a brilliant dinner-party at the President’s. Henry Clay, as one of the most distinguished guests, was honored with a seat near Mrs. Polk, who as usual, by her courteous and affable manner, won the admiration of all her guests. During the entertainment Mr. Clay turned to her, and said, in those winning tones so peculiar to him, — “ Madam, I must say, that in my travels, wherever I have been, in all companies and among all parties, I have heard but one opin- ion of you. All agree in commending, in the highest terms, your excellent administi'ation of the domestic affairs of the White House. But,” continued he, looking towards her husband, “as for that young gentleman there, I cannot say as much. There is some little differ- ence of opinion in regard to the policy of his course.” “ Indeed,” said Mrs. Polk, “ I am glad to hear that my adminis- tration is popular; and, in return for your compliment, I will say, that, if the country should elect a Whig next fall, I know of no one JAMES KNOX POLK. 289 whose elevation would please me more than that of Henry Clay. And I will assure you of one thing : if you do have occasion to occupy the White House on the 4th of March next, it shall be sur- rendered to you in perfect order from garret to cellar.” “ Thank you, thank you ! ” exclaimed Mr. Clay ; “ I am certain that” — No more could be heard, such a burst of laughter followed Mrs. Polk’s happy repartee. In the fall of 1825 Mr. Polk was chosen a member of Congress. The satisfaction which he gave to his constituents may be inferred from the fact, that for fourteen successive years, until 1889, he was continued in that office. He then voluntarily withdrew, only that he might accept the guberna- torial chair of his native State. In Congress he was a laborious member, a frequent and a popular speaker. He was always in his seat, always courteous ; and whenever he spoke, it was always to the point, and without any ambitious rhetorical display. Mr. Polk was the warm friend of General Jackson, who had been defeated in the electoral contest by John Quincy Adams. This latter gentleman had just taken his seat in the presidential chair when Mr. Polk took his seat in the House of Representatives. He immediately united himself with the opponents of Mr. Adams, and was soon regarded as the leader of the Jackson party in the house. The four years of Mr. Adams’s administration passed away, and General Jackson took the presidential chair. Mr. Polk had now be- come a man of great influence in Congress, and was chairman of its most important committee, — that of Ways and Means. Eloquently he sustained General Jackson in all of his measures, — in his hostil- ity to internal improvements, to the bank, to the tariff. The eight years of General Jackson’s administration ended, and the powers he had wielded passed into the hands of Martin Van Buren ; and still Mr. Polk remained in the house, the advocate of that type of de- mocracy which those distinguished men upheld. During five sessions of Congress Mr. Polk was speaker of the house. Strong passions were roused, and stormy scenes were wit- nessed; but Mr. Polk performed his arduous duties to very general satisfaction, and a unanimous vote of thanks to him was passed by the house as he withdrew on the 4th of March, 1839. In his closing address, he said, — “ When I look back to the period when I first took my seat in this house, and then look around me for those who were at that 19 290 LIVES OF TEE PRESIDENTS. time my associates here, I find but few, very few, remaining. But five members who were hei'e with me fourteen years ago continue to be members of this body. My service here has been constant and laborious. I can perhaps say what few others, if any, can, — that 1 have not failed to attend the daily sittings of this house a single day since I have been a member of it, save on a single occasion, when prevented for a short time by indisposition. In my intercourse with the members of this body, when I occupied a place upon the floor, though occasionally engaged in debates upon interesting public questions and of an exciting character, it is a source of unmingled gratification to me to recur to the fact, that on no occasion was there the slightest personal or unpleasant collision with any of its members.” In accordance with Southern usage, Mr. Polk, as candidate for governor, canvassed the State. He was elected by a large majority, and on the 14th of October, 1839, took the oath of office at Nashville. In 1841 his term of office expired, and he was again the candidate of the Democratic party. But in the mean time a wonderful po- litical revolution had swept over the whole country. Martin Van Buren had lost his reelection, and General Harrison had been called triumphantly to the presidential chair. In Tennessee the Whig ticket had been carried by over twelve thousand majority. Under these circumstances the success of Mr. Polk was hopeless. Still he canvassed the State with his Whig competitor, Mr. Jones, traveling in the most friendly manner together, often in the same carriage, and, it is said, at one time sleeping in the same bed. Mr. Jones obtained the election by three thousand majority. Again, in 1843, the same gentlemen were competitors for the governorship, and again Mr. Polk was defeated. And now the question of the annexation of Texas to our country agitated fearfully the whole land. It was a plan which originated with the advocates of slavery, that they might get territory to cut up into slave States, to counterbalance the free States which were being formed in the Northwest. Texas was a province of Mexico. We were on friendly terms with that puny and distracted republic, and could find no plausible occasion to pick a quarrel with it. The territory we coveted was in extent equal to the whole empire of France, and could be divided into six first-class States. The fol- lowing plan was adopted to gain the prize ; — JAMES KNOX POLK. 291 There was a wild, eccentric frontiersman by the name of Sam Houston, who had abandoned civilization, and for six years had lived among the Indians, adopting their habits. He was a man of very considerable native ability. In his character there was a singular blending of good and bad qualities. He had so far commended him- self to the Cherokee Indians that they had chosen him as one of their chiefs. This man gathered a pretty numerous baud of lawless adventurers, and entered Texas to wrest it from Mexico as a private speculation. The plan was distinctly announced ; and from all parts of the country there was a very extensive emigration to those wide and fertile plains of those who were in sympathy with the movement. They went strongly armed, and with abundant supplies furnished them from the South. These men, settlers in Texas, in 1836 called a convention, issued a declaration of independence, formed a constitution establishing perpetual slavery, and chose their intrepid leader, Sam Houston, their governor. A short, bloody, merciless war ensued. The Mex- icans were utterly repulsed. Population from the United States rapidly flowed in. It was manifest to every one that Mexico could never regain her lost province. The first step was triumphantly ac- complished. A few months after this the second step was taken, and Congress acknowledged the independence of Texas. The Tex- ans then sent an envoy to Washington, proposing the annexation of Texak to the American Union. The friends of slavery generally were in favor of the movement. Mr. Benton said that nine slave States could be carved out of the majestic domain, each nearly equal to the State of New York. Most of the foes of slavery extension were opposed to the measure of annexation. Mr. Webster said, — “ Slavery in this country stands where the Constitution left it. I have taken an oath to support the Constitution, and I mean to abide by it. I shall do nothing to carry the power of the general govern- ment within the just bounds of the States. I shall do nothing to interfere with the domestic institutions of the South, and the gov- ernment of the United States have no right to interfere therewith. But that is a very different thing from not interfering to prevent the extension of slavery by adding a large slave country to this. Texas is likely to be a slaveholding country ; and I frankly avow my unwillingness to do anvtbing that shall extend the slavery of the 292 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. African race on this continent, or add another slaveholding State to this Union.” Thus the question of the annexation of Texas became national. Mr. Polk, as the avowed champion of annexation, became the presi- dential candidate of the proslavery wing of the Democratic party, and Dallas their candidate for the vice-presidency. He was elected by a majority in the popular vote of about forty thousand. In Jan- uary, 1845, he left his home in Tennessee for Washington, having first had a long private interview with General Jackson at the Her- mitage. As he was ascending the Ohio River in a steamboat at one of the landings, a plain, farmer-like looking man, in his working- dress, pressed through the crowd, and, taking Mr. Polk’s hand, said, — “ How do you do, colonel ? I am glad to see you. I am a strong Democrat, and did all I could for you. I am the father of twenty- six children, who were all for Polk, Dallas , and Texas .” On the 4th of March, 1845, Mr. Polk was inaugurated President of the United States. The verdict of the country in favor of annex- ation exerted its influence upon Congress ; and the last act of the administration of President Tyler was to affix his signature to a joint resolution of Congress, passed on the 3d of March, approving of the annexation of Texas to the American Union. As Mexico still claimed Texas as one of her provinces, the Mexican minister, Al- monte, immediately demanded his passports, and left the country, declaring the act of annexation to be an act hostile to Mexico. But Mexico was poor, feeble, and distracted, — a very feeble foe for this great republic to encounter. It would have been folly for her to attempt to strike a blow. She could only protest. In his first message President Polk ui’ged that Texas should im- mediately, by act of Congress, be received into the Union on the same footing with the other States. In the mean time General Tay- lor was sent with an army into Texas to hold the country. He was sent first to the Nueces, which the Mexicans said was the western boundary of Texas. Then he was sent nearly two hundred miles farther west, to the Rio Grande, where he erected batteries which commanded the Mexican city of Matamoras, which was situated on the western banks. The anticipated collision soon took place. We had pushed for- ward our army nearly two hundred miles, to the extreme western JAMES KNOX POLK. 293 frontier of the disputed territory ; had erected our batteries so as to command the Mexican city of Matamoras, on the opposite banks ; had placed our troops in such a position that lawless violence was sure to provoke retaliation ; and then, as soon as the Mexican troops crossed the river, and a conflict ensued, President Polk announced to the country that war with Mexico existed. “Now, Mexico,” he said, “has passed the boundary of the United States, has invaded our territory, and shed American blood on American soil. She has proclaimed that hostilities have com- menced, and that the two nations are at war. As war exists, not- withstanding our efforts to avoid it, — exists by the act of Mexico herself, — we are called upon by every consideration of duty and patriotism to vindicate with decision the honor, rights, and interests of our country.” The war was pushed forward by Mr. Polk’s administration with great vigor. General Taylor, whose army was first called one of “observation,” then of “occupation,” then of “invasion,” was sent forward to Monterey. The feeble Mexicans in every encounter were hopelessly and awfully slaughtered. The day of judgment alone can reveal the misery which was caused. It was by the in- genuity of Mr. Polk’s administration that the war was brought on. Mr. Webster said, — “ I believe that, if the question had been put to Congress before the march of the armies and their actual conflict, not ten votes could have been obtained in either house for the war with Mexico under the existing state of things.” “ To the victors belong the spoils.” Mexico was prostrate before us. Her capital was in our hands. We now consented to peace upon the condition that Mexico should surrender to us, in addition to Texas, all of New Mexico, and all of Upper and Lower Califor- nia. This new demand embraced, exclusive of Texas , eight hundred thousand square miles. This was an extent of territory equal to nine States of the size of New York. Thus slavery was securing eighteen majestic States to be added to the Union. There were some Americans who thought this all right: there were others who thought it all wrong. Mr. Polk’s administration called for a grant of three millions of dollars, to be judiciously expended among the Mexicans to induce them voluntarily to make this surrender. There was a split in the 294 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. Democratic party ; and some of the Northern Democrats succeeded in attaching to this appropriation what was called the “ Wilmot Proviso,” in these words : — “ Provided always that there shall be neither slavery nor invol- untary servitude in any territory on the continent of America which shall hereafter be acquired or annexed to the United States by vir- tue of this appropriation, or in any other manner whatsoever, except for crimes whereof the party shall have been duly convicted.” This was called also the Thomas Jefferson Proviso , as its lan- guage was copied from the ordinance originally drafted by him for the government of the Northwestern Territory. This restriction struck Mr. Polk and his friends with consternation. They did not wish to annex one single acre more of land, unless it could add to the area of slavery. The excitement which pervaded the Southern mind was violent in the extreme. Passionate speeches were made. Fiery resolutions were drafted bjr legislatures of the slaveholding States. The “ dissolution of the Union ” was threatened. Under the influence of the threat, the proviso was reconsidered and re- jected. At last peace was made. We had wrested from Mexico territory equal, it has been estimated, to four times the empire of France, and five times that of Spain. In the prosecution of this war we ex- pended twenty thousand lives, and more than a hundred million of dollars. Of this money, fifteen millions were paid to Mexico. “ God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform.” Scarcely twenty years elapsed ere the whole of this vast region was consecrated to freedom. Gold was discovered in California. North- ern emigrants rushed to gather it, carrying with them Northern love of liberty; and California became a free State. Mr. Polk, highly gratified with his success, — for he had no doubt that the whole region was to be consecrated to slavery, — presented the treaty to the Senate for its ratification on the 10th of March, 1848. Justice to Mr. Polk’s memory requires that his view of the right- eousness and expediency of the war with Mexico should be given. While no one will dissent from the facts which have already been presented, there are many who will assert that the reasons which Mr. Polk urges in the following sentences were not the true causes JAMES KNOX POLK. 295 of the war. In his second Annual Message, December, 1846, he says, — “ The existing war with Mexico was neither provoked nor de- sired by the United States : on the contrary, all honorable means were resorted to to avoid it. After years of endurance of aggra' vated and unredressed wrongs on our part, Mexico, in violation of solemn treaty stipulations, and of every principle of justice recognized by civilized nations, commenced hostilities, and thus, by her own act, forced the war upon us. Long before the advance of our army to the left bank of the Rio Grande, we had ample cause of war against Mexico. The war has been represented as unjust and unnecessary; as one of aggression, on our part, on a weak and injured enemy. Such erroneous views, though enter- tained but by a few, have been widely and extensively circulated, not only at home, but have been spread throughout Mexico and the whole world. ♦ “The wrongs which we have suffered from Mexico almost ever since she became an independent power, and the patient endur- ance with which we have borne them, are without a parallel in the history of modern civilized nations. Scarcely had Mexico achieved her independence, when she commenced the system of insult and spoliation which she has ever since pursued. Our citi- zens, engaged in lawful commerce, were imprisoned, their vessels seized, and our flag insulted in her ports. If money was wanted, the lawless seizure and confiscation of our merchant vessels and their cargoes was a ready resource ; and if, to accomplish their pur- poses, it became necessary to imprison the owners, captain, and crew, it was done. Rulers superseded rulers in Mexico in rapid succession ; but still there was no change in this system of depreda- tion. The government of the United States made repeated recla- mations on behalf of its citizens ; but these were answered by the perpetration of new outrages.” In this general strain of remark he continues through several closely printed pages, and then says, “Such is the history of the wrongs which we have suffered and patiently endured from Mexico through a long series of years.” “The annexation of Texas,” he continues, “constituted no just cause of offense to Mexico.” After giving a brief description of the previous history of Texas, and the nature of its union with Mexico, as one of its confederate States, he says, “Emigrants from 296 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. foreign countries were invited by the colonization laws of the State and of the federal government to settle in Texas. This invitation was accepted by many of our citizens, in the full faith, that, in their new home, they would be governed by laws enacted by" rep- resentatives elected by themselves ; and that their lives, liberty, and property would be protected by constitutional guaranties sim- ilar to those which existed in the republic they had left. Under a government thus organized they continued until the year 1835, when a military revolution broke out in the city of Mexico, which entirely subverted the federal and state constitutions, and placed a military dictator at the head of the government. “ The people of Texas were unwilling to submit to this usurpa- tion. Resistance to such tyranny became a high duty. The people of Texas flew to arms. They elected members to a convention, who in the month of March, 1836, issued a formal declaration, that their ‘ political connection with the Mexican nation has forever ended, and that the people of Texas do now constitute a free, sovereign, and independent republic.’ ” He then gives an account of the unsuccessful attempts of Mexico, by her armies, to conquer and reclaim her lost territory. “ Upon this plain statement of facts,” he continues, “ it is absurd for Mex- ico to allege that Texas is still a part of her territory.” “ But there are those,” he adds, “ who, conceding all this to be true, assume the ground, that the true western boundary of Texas is the Nueces, instead of the Rio Grande; and that, therefore, in marching our army to the east bank of the latter river, we passed the Texan line, and invaded the territory of Mexico.” His expla- nation of this is too long and labored to be inserted here. The substance is, that the Texans claimed the Rio Grande as their boundary ; that they had conquered it by the sword ; that, as con- querors, they had a right to it; and that the United States govern- ment, having annexed Texas to the Union, was under every moral obligation to defend the boundaries which the Texans claimed. This defense of the policy of the government in the affairs rela- tive to Texas and Mexico gives one a very just idea of the char- acter of Mr. Polk’s mind, and of the peculiarity of his abilities. The arguments he presents are plausible rather than convincing. One can scarcely conceive of such a document coming from the pen of Jefferson or of Webster. JAMES KNOX POLK. 297 On the 3d of March, 1849, Mr. Polk retired from office, having served one term. The next day was Sunday. On the 5th General Taylor was inaugurated as his successor. Mr. Polk rode to the Cap- itol in the same carriage with General Taylor ; and the same even- ing, with Mrs. Polk, he commenced his return to Tennessee. Very enthusiastic demonstrations of regard met him as he journeyed through the Southern States. At Wilmington, Charleston, Savan- nah, and New Orleans, he was honored with splendid ovations. He had previously purchased a beautiful mansion in the heart of the city of Nashville. He was then but fifty-four years of age. He had ever been strictly temperate in his habits, and his health was good. With an ample fortune, a choice library, a cultivated mind, and domestic ties of the dearest nature, it seemed as though long years of tranquillity and happiness were before him. But the cholera — that fearful scourge — was then sweeping up the valley of the Mississippi. President Polk steamed up the river from New Orleans. On board the boat, he perceived the premonitory symptoms of the dread disease. When he reached his home, his system was much debilitated. A personal friend gives the following account of his last hours : — “ Having reached Nashville, he gave himself up to the improve- ment of his grounds, and was seen every day about his dwelling, aiding and directing the workmen he had employed, now overlook- ing a carpenter, now giving instructions to a gardener, often at- tended by Mrs. Polk, whose exquisite taste constituted the element of every improvement. It is not a fortnight since I saw him on the lawn, directing some men who were removing decaying cedars. I was struck with his erect and healthful bearing, and the active energy of his manner, which gave promise of long life. His flowing gray locks alone made him appear beyond the middle age of life. He seemed in full health. The next day being rainy, he remained within, and began to arrange his large library. The labor of reach- ing books from the floor, and placing them on the shelves, brought on fatigue and slight fever, which the next day assumed the char- acter of disease in the form of chronic diarrhoea. “ For the first three days his friends felt no alarm ; but the dis- ease baffling the skill of his physicians, Dr. Hay, his brother-in-law, and family physician for twenty years, was sent for from Columbia. But the skill and experience of this gentleman, aided by the highest 298 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. medical talent, proved of no avail. Mr. Polk continued gradually to sink from day to day. The disease was checked upon him for four days before his death ; but his constitution was so weakened that there did not remain recuperative energy enough in the system for healthy reaction. He sank away so slowly and insensibly that the heavy death-respirations commenced eight hours before he died. He died without a struggle, simply ceasing to breathe, as when deep and quiet sleep falls upon a weary man. About half an hour preced- ing his death his venerable mother entered the room and offered up a beautiful prayer to the King of kings and Lord of lords, commit- ting the soul of her son to his holy keeping.” His death occurred on the 15th of June, 1849, in the fifty-fourth year of his age. His funeral was attended the following day, in Nashville, with every demonstration of respect. He left no children. As death drew near, he felt, as thousands of others have done, the need of the supports of Christianity, and in that eleventh hour re- ceived the rite of baptism at the hands of a Methodist clergyman. CHAPTER XII ZACHARY TAYLOR. Birth. — Emigration to Kentucky. — Neglected Education. — Enters the Army. — Life on the Frontier. — Battles with the Indians. — Campaign in Florida. — The Mexican War. — Palo Alto. — Resaca de la Palma. — Monterey. — Buena Yista. — Nominated for the Presi- dency. — Sufferings. — Death. Zachary Taylor, the twelfth President of the United States, was born on the 24th of November, 1784, in Orange County, Ya. RESIDENCE OF ZACHARY TAYLOR. His father, Colonel Richard Taylor, was a Virginian of note, and a distinguished patriot and soldier of the Revolution. When Zachary was an infant, his father, with his wife and two other children, emi- grated to Kentucky, where he settled in the pathless wilderness, a 300 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. few miles out from the present city of Louisville. He was one of the first settlers of that region ; and as such, when the population increased, was honored with many responsible trusts. In this rude frontier-home, far away from civilization and all its refinements, young Zachary could enjoy but few social or educa- tional advantages. When six years of age he attended a common school, and was then regarded as a bright, active boy, rather re- maikable for bluntness, and decision of character. He was strong, feailess, and self-reliant, and manifested an eager desire to enter the army to fight the Indians who were ravaging the frontiers. There is little to be recorded of the uneventful years of his child- hood on his father’s large but lonely plantation. In 1808 his father succeeded in obtaining for him the commission of lieutenant in the United States army ; and he joined the troops which were stationed at New Orleans under General Wilkinson. Soon after this he mar- ried Miss Margaret Smith, a young lady from one of the first fam- ilies in Maryland. Our relations with England were, at this time, becoming very threatening, and we were upon the eve of our second war with that power. The English officials in Canada were doing their utmost to rouse the Indians against us. Immediately after the declaration of war in 1812, Captain Taylor (for he had then been promoted to that rank) was put in command of Fort Harrison, on the Wabash, about fifty miles above Vincennes. This fort had been built in the wilderness by General Harrison, on his march to Tippecanoe. It was one of the first points of attack by the Indians, led by Tecutn- seh. The works consisted simply of a row of log-huts for soldiers’ barracks, with a strong block-house at each end. These buildings occupied one side of a square, the other three sides of which were composed of rows of high pickets. Its garrison consisted of a broken company of infantry, numbering fifty men, many of whom were sick. Early in the autumn of 1812, the Indians, stealthily, and in large numbers, moved upon the fort. Their approach was first indicated by the murder of two soldiers just outside of the stockade. Cap- tain Taylor made every possible preparation to meet the antici- pated assault. On the 4th of September a band of about forty painted and plumed savages came to the fort, waving a white flag, and informed Captain Taylor, that, in the morning, their chief ZACHARY TAYLOR. 301 would come to have a talk with him. It was evident that their object was merely to ascertain the state of things at the fort ; and Captain Taylor, well versed in the wiles of the savages, kept them at a distance. The sun went down ; the savages disappeared ; the garrison slept upon their arms. One hour before midnight the war-whoop burst from a thousand lips in the forest around, followed by the discharge of musketry, and the rush of the foe. Every man, sick and well, sprang to his post. Every man knew that defeat was not merely death, but, in case of capture, death by the most agonizing and pro- longed torture. No pen can describe, no imagination can conceive, the scene which ensued. The savages succeeded in setting fire to one of the block-houses. There was a large amount of whisky stored in the building; and the sheets of flame, flashing to the clouds, lit up the whole landscape with lurid brilliancy. The forest, the dancing savages, the yells of the assailants, the crackling and glare of the fire, the yelping of the dogs, the shrieks of the women (for there were several in the fort), who had become almost frantic with terror, the shouts of command, the incessant rattle of mus- ketry, — all created a scene of terror which caused the stoutest heart to quail. Of course no one thought of surrender. It was far better to perish by the bullet or the fire than to fall into the hands of the foe. Until six o’clock in the morning this awful conflict contin- ued. The savages then, baffled at every point, and gnashing their teeth with rage, retired. Captain Taylor, for this gallant defense, was promoted to the rank of major by brevet. Until the termination of the war Major Taylor was placed in such situations that he saw but little more of active service. When the army was reduced at the close of the war, the military board re- tained him, but assigned to him only the rank of captain. Not relish- ing this arrangement, Major Taylor resigned his commission, and returned to the ■‘eaceful pursuits of agricultural life on his planta- tion. Soon, however, the influence of friends regained for him his rank of major ; and, returning to the army, he was sent far away into the depths of the wilderness, to Fort Crawford, on Fox River, which empties into Green Bay. Here there was but little to be done but to wear away the tedious hours as one best could. There were no books, no society, no intellectual stimulus. Thus with him the uneventful years rolled on. Gradually he rose to the rank of 302 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. colonel. In the Black Hawk war, which resulted in the capture of that renowned chieftain, Colonel Taylor took a subordinate but a brave and efficient part. It is related of Colonel Taylor, that, while engaged in this war, he was at one time pursuing Black Hawk with his Indian band, when they came to Rock River, which was then understood to be the northwest boundary of the State of Illinois. He had under his command a pretty large force of volunteers and a few regulars. The volunteers openly declared that they would not cross the river, as they had enlisted only for the defense of the State ; and that they were not bound to march beyond the frontier into the Indian country. Colonel Taylor, inclining to the same opinion, encamped upon the banks of the stream. But during the night orders came for him to follow up Black Hawk to the last extremity. The sol- diers, hearing of this, assembled on the prairie, in a sort of town meeting, to deliberate respecting what they should do. Colonel Taylor was invited to attend. He was a man of few words, but had already attained some celebrity for his decisive actions. Very quietly, for a time, he listened to their proceedings. At length it came his turn to speak. “ Gentlemen and fellow-citi- zens,” said he, “ the word has been passed on to me from Washing- ton to follow Black Hawk, and to take you with me as soldiers. I mean to do both. There are the flat-boats drawn up on the shore; here are Uncle Sam's men drawn up behind you on the prairie.” There was no resisting this argument. In a few hours they were all across the river, in hot pursuit of the foe. For twenty-four years Colonel Taylor was engaged in the defense of the frontiers, in scenes so remote, and in employments so obscure, that his name was unknown beyond the limits of his own immediate acquaintance. In the year 1836 he was sent to Florida to compel the Seminole Indians to vacate that region and retire beyond the Mississippi, as their chiefs, by treaty, had promised they should do. The great mass of the Indians, denying the right of a few chiefs to sell the hunting grounds of their fathers, refused to emigrate : hence the war. Colonel Taylor was sent to capture or destroy them, wherever they might be found. But little lasting fame can be acquired in fighting undisciplined savages. And still the American Indians were so brave and so cunning, appearing at this moment like a pack of howling wolves ZACHARY TAYLOR. 303 in one spot, and the next moment dispersed, no one could tell where, that it required military qualities of a very high character success- fully to contend with them. “War,” says Napoleon, “is the science of barbarians.” Indian warfare has ever been found a very good school in which to acquire the rudiments of that science. It re- quires constant vigilance, prompt action, patience, versatility of tal- ent, to meet every emergency, and courage of the highest order to face death in its most appalling form. The war with the Seminoles was long, bloody, and inglorious ; and, with many of the American people, it was considered as, on the part of our government, very unjust. Early in the winter of 1837 Colonel Taylor, with a small army of about one thousand men, commenced a march into the interior to assail a large body of Seminole warriors who were encamped upon the banks of the great inland lake, Okeechobee. Their path, of one hundred and fifty miles, led through an unexplored wilderness, intersected by rivers, vast forests of oak and pine, and immense morasses of gloomy cypress-trees, with almost impenetrable underbrush, and interlacings of vines and pendent moss. There was no path through these vast solitudes, and no food could be gathered on the way for either man or beast. Upon the northern shore of this lake there was a swamp, in the midst of whose recesses a small island was found. Here seven hun- dred Seminole warriors, having learned through their runners of the advance of the white man, had stationed themselves to give battle. They were well armed with rifles, and were unerring in their aim. Every man of them stood behind his protecting tree ; and rarely has warfare presented greater peril than the men were exposed to in wading through that swamp in the face of such a foe. The Indians, nimble as deer, could vanish in an hour ; and weeks and months might elapse before they could again be found. Under these circumstances, Colonel Taylor made no reconn oissance, but fell instantly and impetuously upon them. It was necessary to cross the swamp, three quarters of a mile in breadth, through mud and water knee-deep, impeded by brush and weeds, and tall, coarse, wiry grass, before they could reach the island or hummock where the foe was stationed. As soon as Tay- lor’s advance came within musket-shot, the Indians poured in upon them such a deadly fire that the troops broke and fled in a panic 304 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. which nothing could check. A second line advanced more cam tiously, seeking such protection as the ground could afford, and keeping up a constant discharge of musketry : but the Indians, from their thicket, concentrated upon them such well-aimed shot, that, in a few minutes, every officer was struck down ; and in one company but four men were left untouched. In the mean time other parties, by other approaches, had gained the hummock, and the Indians broke and fled. For three hours this battle was fought with the utmost desperation on both sides ; but the rout was complete. The Seminoles lost so large a number of their warriors that they never ventured to give battle again. Their forces were afterwards divided into marauding bands, who gradually, crushed in spirit, surrendered, and were removed to the lands allotted to them beyond the Mississippi. General Taylor lost, in killed, about thirty, including many of his most valuable officers. One hundred and twelve were wounded. These unhappy men were carried across the country to Tampa Bay, on litters roughly con- structed of poles and hides. This signal victory secured for Colonel Taylor the high appreciation of the government ; and, as a reward, he was elevated to the rank of brigadier-general by brevet ; and soon after, in May, 1838, was appointed to the chief command of the United States troops in Florida. Broken bands of Indians, in a high state of exasperation, were for a long time wandering through the country, requiring the most strenuous exertions on the part of Colonel Taylor to protect the scattered inhabitants. General Taylor, in his official account of the battle of Okeechobee, says, “ The action was a severe one, and continued from half-past twelve until after three in the afternoon ; a part of the time very close and severe. We suffered muph. The hostiles probably suf- fered, all things considered, equally with ourselves ; they having left ten on the ground, besides, doubtless, carrying off many more, as is customary with them when practicable. “ As soon as the enemy were completely broken, I turned my attention to taking care of the wounded, to facilitate their removal to my baggage, where I ordered an encampment to be formed. I directed Captain Taylor to cross over to the spot, and employ every individual whom he might find there in constructing a small foot- way across the swamp. This, with great exertion, was completed in a short time after dark, when all the dead and wounded were ZACHARY TAYLOR. 305 carried over in litters made for that purpose, with one exception, — a private of the Fourth Infantry, who was killed, and could not be found. “ And here, I trust, I may be permitted to say, that I experienced one of the most trying scenes of my life. And he who could have looked on it with indifference, his nerves must have been very differ- ently organized from my own. Besides the killed, there lay one hundred and twelve wounded officers and soldiers, who had accom- panied me one hundred and forty-five miles, most of the way through an unexplored wilderness, without guides ; who had so gallantly beaten the enemy, under my orders, in his strongest position ; and who had to be conveyed back through swamps and hummocks from whence we set out, without any apparent means of doing so. “ This service, however, was encountered and overcome ; and they have been conveyed thus far, and proceeded on to Tampa Bay, on rude litters constructed with the axe and knife alone, with poles and dry hides ; the latter being found in great abundance at the encamp- ment of the hostiles. The litters were conveyed on the backs of our weak and tottering horses, aided b}^ the residue of the command, with more ease and comfort than I could have supposed, and with as much as they could have been in ambulances of the most improved and modern construction. “ This column, in six weeks, penetrated one hundred and fifty miles into the enemy’s country ; opened roads, and constructed bridges and causeways, when necessary, on the greater portion of the route; established two depots, and the necessary defenses for the same ; and, finally, overtook and beat the enemy in his strongest position. The results of which movements and battle have been the capture of thirty of the hostiles ; the coming in and surrender- ing of more than one hundred and fifty Indians and negroes, mostly of the former, including the chiefs, Oulatoochee, Tustanuggee, and other principal men ; the capturing, and driving out of the country, six hundred head of cattle, upwards of one hundred head of horses, besides obtaining a thorough knowledge of the country through which we operated, a greater portion of which was entirely unknown except to the enemy.” After two years of such wearisome employment amidst the ever- glades of the peninsula, General Taylor obtained, at his own request, a change of command, and was stationed over the Department of the 20 306 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. Southwest. This field embraced Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia. Establishing his headquarters at Fort Jessup in Louisiana, he removed his family to a plantation which he pur- chased near Baton Rouge. Here he remained for five years, buried as it were from the world, yet faithfully discharging every duty imposed upon him. It has been said that bayonets must not think. General Taylor was an officer in the employment of the United States government, and as such was bound, as he supposed, to obey orders. In the spring of 1845 Congress passed a joint resolution for the annex- ation of Texas, and General Taylor was directed to hold his troops in readiness for action on the Texan frontier. Into the question of the right or wrong of this annexation we have no space to enter. General Taylor’s position was, however, embarrassing, as it appeared to be the desire of the government (James K. Polk having just en- tered upon the presidency) that General Taylor should take steps to bring on a collision with Mexico, of which the government wished to avoid the responsibility. He therefore declined acting upon his own responsibility, silently waiting for implicit instructions. The river Nueces was claimed by Mexico to be the original western boundary of Texas ; but Secretary Marcy, in his dispatch to General Taylor, indicated the Rio Grande, nearly two hundred miles farther west, or rather south, as the boundary-line to be de- fended. He was, however, not ordered, at first, to advance to the Rio Grande ; though he was directed to cross the Nueces River and establish his corps of observation at Corpus Christi, on the western bank of the river. In August, 1845, he took his position here, with fifteen hundred troops, which in November were increased by re- inforcements to four thousand. Although when at Corpus Christi he was on ground which the Mexicans claimed, so long as he re- mained there there was apparently no danger of collision with the Mexican authorities. He disregarded all the hints which came to him from Washington for a further advance westward, until March, 1846, when there came explicit orders for him to advance to the Rio Grande. He accordingly took up his line of march over the bound- less prairies which Mexico claimed as her territory. At the distance of about one hundred miles he came to the waters of the Colorado. Here he found a Mexican force drawn up upon the western bank, but altogether too feeble to attempt to dispute his passage. Still ZACHARY TAYLOR. 307 the Mexican commander sent a protest against what he regarded as the invasion of Mexico, and declared that the crossing of the Colo- rado would be regarded as a declaration of war. General Taylor, assuming that he was simply bound to obey orders, paid no attention to the warning, and crossed the river in sight of the Mexican detachment, who peaceably withdrew. Con- tinuing his march, he sent a detachment to occupy Point Isabel, on the banks of an inlet opening into the Gulf, which was easily acces- sible by steamers, and had been fixed upon as the ddpot for army supplies. The main body of the army soon reached the Rio Grande, and commenced throwing up defensive works. Opposite them, upon the western bank, was the Mexican city of Matamoras. Ihis in- vasion of their country, as the Mexicans deemed it, excited great indignation. The Mexican commander, General Ampudia, refused to hold any friendly intercourse with the Americans, and on the 12th of April, by orders from his government, issued a summons to General Taylor to return to the eastern bank of the Nueces, there 308 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. to await the decision of the two governments, who were discussing the question of the true boundaries of Texas. He added that the refusal to do this must inevitably lead to war. Our government evidently wished to provoke hostilities. General Taylor replied, that, as he was acting in a purely military capacity, his instructions would not allow him to retire to the Nueces ; and that, if war were the only alternative, he accepted it with regret. General Taylor wrote to the adjutant-general, April 6, 1846, “ On our side, a battei'y, for four eighteen-pounders will be completed, and the guns placed in battery to-day. These guns bear directly upon the public square at Matamoras, and are within good range for demolishing the town. Their object cannot be mistaken by the enemy.” President Polk did not regard this as a hostile measure which the Mexicans had any right to resist. In the mean time, Commodore Sloat was sent to the Pacific with seven ships of war and nearly three thousand men, with secret orders to seize and occupy San Francisco and other Mexican ports on the Pacific as soon as he should hear of the existence of war between Mexico and the United States. Accordingly, on the 7tli of July, 1846, hearing of the vic- tories of Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma, he seized Monterey, in California, without resistance, and “ annexed ” California ; announc- ing that “henceforth California will be a portion of the United States.” The whole teri’itory we wrested from Mexico is estimated to be as large as England, Ireland, Scotland, France, Spain, Portugal, Italy, and Germany combined. In Cutt's “ Conquest of California ” he relates the following anecdote : — “ Just as we were leaving camp to-day, an old Apache chief came in, and harangued the general thus: ‘You have taken Santa Fe. Let us go on and take Chihuahua and Sonora. We will go with you. You fight for the soil ; we fight for plunder: so we will agree perfectly. These people are bad Christians : let us give them a good thrashing.’ ” This interview between General Kearney and the Indian warrior reminds one of the ancient anecdote of Alexander and the pirate. The two armed forces upon the Matamoras remained in the pres- ence of each other for a month. For more than two miles along each bank of the river, antagonistic batteries were facing each other, ZACHARY TAYLOR. 309 the guns shotted, and the artillery-men on both sides impatient for the order to tire. The situation naturally gave rise to many causes of irritation on both sides. Brazos Santiago, the port of Matamoras, was blockaded by order of General Taylor ; and two supply-ships for the Mexican army were ordered off the harbor. No one could deny that this was a hostile act. The deputy quartermaster of the American troops was murdered a short distance from camp. A small party of United States soldiers, in pursuit of the murderers, fell upon a band of Mexicans, fired upon them, and put them to flight, taking possession of their camp. On their return they were fired upon by another Mexican party, and one of their officers was killed. Thus, gradually, hostilities were inaugurated. A Mexican force crossed the Rio Grande above Matamoras. A squadron of United States dragoons, sent to watch their movements, was attacked by the Mexicans, and, after the loss of ten men killed, was captured. Point Isabel, which, as we have mentioned, was about twelve miles from Matamoras, was threatened by a force of fifteen hundred Mexicans ; and General Taylor’s connection with his depSt of sup- plies was cut off. In order to open his communications, he left a garrison at Fort Brown, as his works opposite Matamoras were called, and with the remainder of his army set out on the 1st of May for Point Isabel. Immediately after his departure the Mexi- cans opened fire upon Fort Brown from a battery on the western side of the river. The hostile battery was soon silenced ; but after the lapse of a day another and more formidable assault was made, the Mexicans having crossed the river, so as to attack the fort both in front and rear. After a spirited bombardment on both sides, night closed the conflict. In the night, by firing his eighteen-pound- ers at stated intervals, Major Brown, who was in command, signaled General Taylor that he was surrounded. The next morning the Mexicans resumed the assault. Their shells fell with such accuracy into the camp that the garrison was driven into the bomb-proofs. Major Brown was mortally wounded. The command devolved upon Captain Hawkins. He refused the summons to surrender, and endured the terrible bombardment until night again closed the scene. It was the 6th of May. In the mean time General Taylor, having learned that the Mexi- cans had crossed the river with six thousand men, and that Fort Brown was surrounded and in great peril, commenced vigorously 310 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. retracing his steps. The morning of the 8th dawned. The Mexi- cans opened again their bombardment with new vigor and hope. The thunders of the cannonade floated over the vast prairies, and fell heavily upon the ears of the host advancing to the rescue of their comrades. About noon Taylor’s force encountered the Mexi- cans. Their appearance was very imposing, as three thousand men — infantry, cavalry, and artillery, with waving banners and gleam- ing armor — were drawn up on the broad prairie, in a line nearly a mile in length. Their right rested upon a dense thicket of chapar- ral, and their left was protected by a swamp. They had eleven field-pieces in position. General Taylor had about twenty-two hundred men ; and was, on the whole, superior to the Mexicans in artillery, as he bad ten guns, two of which were eighteen-pounders. He drew up his army in battle array, about half a mile distant from the Mexicans. The field of Palo Alto, upon which these hostile armies were thus ar- rayed, was a vast plain with nothing to obstruct the view. When both armies were ready, they stood for twenty minutes looking at each other, each hesitating to begin the work of death. At length a white puff of smoke burst from one of the Mexican guns, and a cannon-ball whistled over the heads of the American troops. This opened the battle. It was mainly an artillery contest on both sides. General Taylor was not a tactician : he was simply a stern, straight- forward, indomitable fighter. The combatants kept at quite a dis- tance from each other, throwing their shot and shell often more than three quarters of a mile. Thus the battle raged for five hours, each army being exposed to every shot of its antagonist. The superior skill of the American gunners, and our heavier weight of metal, gave us the advantage ; and the loss was far greater on the Mexican side than on ours. The prairie-grass took fire, and sheets of flame rolled along ten feet high. Immense clouds of smoke enveloped the con- tending hosts. Round shot, grape, and shells tore through the Mex- ican ranks with great slaughter. Our infantry, generally, threw themselves upon the ground ; and most of the enemy’s shot either fell short or passed over their heads. Only four Americans were killed, and thirty-two wounded. The Mexican loss was two hun- dred and sixty-two. When night came and closed the conflict, neither party knew the effect of the cannonade upon the other. The Mexicans, however, ZACS ARY TAYLOR. 311 confessed to a defeat, by retiring, under protection of tbe darkness, to a new position some few miles in their rear. The little garrison at Fort Brown, while repelling the assault which was made upon them, listened with intense anxiety to the booming of the cannon on the field of Palo Alto. Should General Taylor be cut off or driven back, the doom of the garrison was sealed. The next morning General Taylor, finding that the enemy had disappeared, moved forward to the ground which the Mexicans had occupied. They had left behind them their dead, and many of their wounded. He pressed on in pursuit, and soon found them, at the distance of but about three miles from Fort Brown, formid- ably posted in a ravine called Resaca de la Palma. Scattered around were dense thickets of dwarf-oaks, almost impenetrable. Here the Mexican general, Arista, had so advantageously posted his forces that it required desperate valor to break through. Again there was a battle. It commenced with artillery, and was followed up with infantry and cavalry. Several charges of great impetuos- ity were made. The Mexicans fought with great bravery and with disciplined valor. There was but little room for generalship. It was simply hard fighting. The forces were not far from equal on both sides ; but the American soldiers, far more intelligent than their foes, fired with much more rapidity and with sui'er aim, and their victory was complete. Soon the whole Mexican line was seen on the retreat, having lost a thousand of their number in killed, wounded, and missing. The American loss did not exceed a hundred and fifty. The enemy fled across the river, hotly pur- sued. Enthusiastic were the cheers of the little band in Fort Brown as they saw the stars and stripes advancing so gloriously to their rescue. The tidings of these victories aroused to an astonishing degree the martial spirit of the country. War was now thoroughly inau- gurated. Those who had brought it on were well pleased. “ Palo Alto” and “Resaca de la Palma” rang through the land as among the most glorious victories which had ever been achieved. “ On to the halls of the Montezumas ! ” was the cry ; and the few and feeble voices of remonstrance were drowned in the exultant shout. Con- gress authorized the President to accept fifty thousand volunteers. The rank of major-general by brevet was conferred on General Taylor. Congressional resolutions complimented him, and the leg- 312 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. islatures of several States lavished upon him their honors. These flattering testimonials were received by General Taylor with that unaffected simplicity which was one of his chief characteristics, and which was manifest in all the habits of his life. Though a strict disciplinarian, he could scarcely be distinguished, in his own per- sonal appearance and dress, from any common farmer. These habits secured for him among his troops the soubriquet of “ Old Rough and Ready.” An incident, which occurred soon after the victories just re- corded, amusingly illustrates these traits in his character. After the relief of Fort Brown General Taylor prepared to follow up his victories by the bombardment of Matamoras. Accordingly he went to Point Isabel to arrange for the cooperation of the navy. Commodore Conner, commanding in the Gulf, was as famed for par- ticularity in dress as the general was for negligence in that respect. The commodore sent word that he would pay the general a visit of ceremony. This announcement caused much agitation in the mind of the kind-hearted officer. Without embarrassment, he could have welcomed his guest with a hearty grip of the hand to a seat on the camp-chest, and to a familiar talk over their plans; but that the most cai’efully-dressed officer in the navy, in command of its finest fleet, should pay him a visit of ceremony, in full uni- form, and surrounded by all the retinue and equipments becoming his rank, was an anticipation almost too great for nerves that scarcely trembled in battle. The general, however, decided to re- ceive the commodore, dressed in full uniform, — a sight that his officers, who had been associated with him for years, had never witnessed. Meanwhile, Commodore Conner, quite unconscious of the flutter he had caused in the general’s bosom, with the good sense of a gallant and accomplished gentleman, prepared for his interview with the plain old general, whose habits were well known to him. At the time appointed, habited in plain white drilling, he came ashore, without any parade or any attendants. As soon as it was reported to General Taylor that his visitor had landed, he hastened from some heavy work which he was superintending, rushed into his tent, brought from the bottom of his chest a uniform-coat that for years had been undisturbed, arrayed himself in it, with its standing-collar raised on one side three vacant button-holes above ZACHARY TAYLOR. 318 its legitimate height, and, in a very uncomfortable manner, seated himself for the reception. Commodore Conner quietly entered the tent of the commander-in-cliief. The distinguished representatives of the army and navy shook hands in mutual astonishment at each other’s personal appearance. It is said, that, after that interview, General Taylor took to linen roundabouts, of the largest dimensions, with more pertinacity than ever. It matters little whether this story be accurately true or not : it illustrates the character of the man. Another amusing anecdote has been told illustrative of this trait of extreme simplicity, and disregard of the ordinary courtesies of life, in the character of General Taylor. A gentleman who had been connected with the army, and was attached to the same regi- ment with Taylor, and had been intimately acquainted with him, visited Fort Jessup, in Louisiana, while the general was stationed in command at that post. He had not seen his old friend for some time, and was quite disappointed to learn that he was a hundred miles distant, attending a court-martial. One day the gentleman was walking out from the fort in a morn- ing ramble, when he met “ an old country codger ” jogging along towards the camp on a donkey. They exchanged salutations, ac- cording to the custom in those remote solitudes. But the figure of the donkey-rider, on his diminutive beast, was so comical, that the gentleman could not refrain from turning round, and gazing at him after he had passed. He was dressed in a coarse bombazine frock- coat and drab trousers. The bottoms of his trousers were tucked under his coarse, spattered boots. A black cravat was tied loosely round his neck. He had on a vei’y coarse straw hat, whose broad brim, as he trotted along, flapped up and down; while, from be- neath, long, uncombed hair fluttered in the breeze. The gentleman continued his walk, and, upon returning to the fort, was cordially greeted by this comical-looking donkey-rider, who ? to his surprise, he found to be his old friend, General Taylor. In passing neither had recognized the other. On the 18th of May General Taylor, having obtained pontoons, crossed the Rio Grande unopposed, both above and below Mata- moras, and took possession of the city. The request from General Arista, for a suspension of hostilities until the terms of boundary could be amicably arranged by the two governments, was positively 314 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. refused. For three months General Taylor remained at Matamoras. This was with him a period of great anxiety. His victories had excited unbounded enthusiasm, and both government and people seemed to expect that he would sweep immediately and resistlessly on to the city of Mexico ; but this required a march of more than five hundred miles, intersected by rivers easily defended, and mount- ain-ranges, in whose narrow defiles a small band could resist a host. President Polk, in transmitting to General Taylor his commission of major-general by brevet, wrote to him as follows : “ It gave me sincere pleasure, immediately upon receipt of official intelligence from the scene of your achievements, to confer upon you, by and with the advice and consent of the Senate, this testimonial of the estimate which your government places upon your skill and gal- lantry. To yourself, and the brave officers and soldiers under your command, the gratitude of the country is justly due. Our army have fully sustained their deservedly high reputation, and added another bright page to the history of American valor and patriotism. They have won new laurels for themselves and for their country. • “ The battles of Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma rank among our most brilliant victories, and will long be remembered by the American people. When all the details of those battles, and of the noble defense of the camp opposite to Matamoras, shall have been received, it will be my pleasure, as it will be my grateful duty, to render to the officers and men under your command suitable testi- monials for their conduct in the brilliant victories which a superin- tending Providence has enabled them to achieve for their country.” It was General Taylor’s intention to make Camargo, which was one hundred and forty miles farther up the river, his base of opera- tions in the now contemplated invasion of Mexico. Camargo was nearer to Monterey, his next point of attack. He was, however, delayed for some time by the non-arrival of reinforcements, and by his want of means of transportation. This delay gave the Mexicans time to recover from their panic, and to make preparations for a vigorous resistance. At length, the latter part of July, the army was put in motion. Sixteen hundred mules had been obtained for the transportation. The country through which they marched had long been infested by banditti ; and large numbers of crosses were passed, which had been reared by the friends of murdered travelers at the places where they had been slain. These crosses were of ZACHARY TAYLOR. 315 wood, about four feet high, some of recent construction, and others hoary and mossy with age. A brief inscription generally told the story. At one place there was quite a cluster of these crosses, in commemoration of a company of men, women, and children, who, on a pleasure-party to Matamoras, were met by a band of savages and all slain. Irreverently our troops tore down these crosses and used them for firewood. Camargo was reached without opposition, and here another delay occurred of six weeks. Early in September the troops again took up their line of march for Monterey. In the distance there rose sublimely before them the majestic peaks of the mountains, “ cutting their outlines against the clear sky like huge masses of indigo.” It was generally sup- posed that the Mexicans would not make any stand at Monterey, and General Taylor was of this opinion. Soon, however, the indica- tions began to multiply that there was trouble to be encountered ahead. The Mexican muleteers shrugged their shoulders ominously. At Marin a very intelligent, honest-looking Mexican was asked if there would be much fighting. “ Yes, sir,” he replied very decid- edly ; “there will be much fighting, and many deaths.” When they reached Seralvo, Mexican cavalry began to appear, hovering in front and upon their flanks, watching every movement. At the village of llamas quite a skirmish ensued. On the 19th of September the army reached the outskirts of Monterey, and en- camped at the Walnut Springs, three miles distant from the city, which was beautifully situated in the valley of the San Juan River, and was surrounded by the lofty ridges of the Sierra Madre. Gen- eral Taylor was so much deceived, that, two days before, he wrote to the War Department, — “It is even doubtful whether General Ampudia will attempt to hold Monterey. His regular force is small, say three thousand, eked out, perhaps, to six thousand by volunteers, many of them forced.” Instead of this, there was found in Monterey a garrison of ten thousand soldiers, seven thousand of whom were regular troops. General Taylor had under his command six thousand two hundred and twenty. The next day after our arrival, Sunday the 20th, the enemy’s works were carefully reconnoitred. General Worth was then or- dered to make a detour to the west of the city, and attack in that 316 LIVES OF TEE PRESIDENTS. direction, and carry tlie works if possible. To aid him in this en- deavor, General Taylor was to make a demonstration on the east. The Mexicans were vigilant, and watched every movement. Promptly they threw out reinforcements to strengthen their western lines. To divert their attention, General Taylor displayed a large force on the east, and, under cover of the darkness of the night, erected a battery of two twenty-four-pounder howitzers, a ten-inch mortar, and four light field-batteries of four guns each. In the night Gen- eral Worth reached the Saltillo road, and occupied a position just out of the range of the Mexican guns. Early on the morning of Monday, the 21st, General Taylor re- ceived a dispatch from General Worth, dated nine o’clock the even- ing before, announcing the success of his movement, and urging a strong assault, in his support, upon the eastern portion of the town. About ten o’clock, as these troops were approaching the eastern walls, they were opened upon from masked batteries, with such a storm of iron that they quailed before it. Generals Taylor and Twiggs were both upon the ground. The troops were thrown into confusion ; but the indomitable spirit of General Taylor rallied them, and, by an impetuous charge, they Raptured one fort and an old fortified block-house. Still the scene of confusion was dreadful. Many lives had been lost. General Taylor was in the midst of the melee , laboring under the most intense excitement. As night approached, a little order was evolved from the chaos. Garland’s brigade held the captured works, and the rest of the troops were sent back to camp. At sunset it began to rain. One of the soldiers writes, — “ That was one of the most miserable nights I ever passed. We had had nothing to eat since the evening before. We had been out all night, and had been fighting all day ; nor was it until the next afternoon — making in all about forty-eight hours under arms — that we had even a morsel, except some sugar that had been trampled under foot.” The next day, Tuesday, the 22d, the assault was not renewed. Its hours were mainly devoted to the sad duty of taking care of the wounded, and burying the dead. The enemy kept up a vigor- ous fire upon any of our troops who came within range. General Worth’s division, however, upon the other side of the city, after very hard fighting, succeeded in carrying the bishop’s palace, and ZACHARY TAYLOR. 317 turned its guns upon the fugitive garrison. General Taylor, having ascertained the fact of this decisive success, felt confident that the Mexicans could not long hold possession of the town. During the night the enemy evacuated nearly all his defenses on the eastern part of the city, to strengthen those points now so seriously menaced on the west by General Worth. This was re- ported early in the morning to General Taylor. He says in his report, — “I immediately sent instructions to that officer, leaving it to his discretion, to enter the city, covering his men by the houses and walls, and to advance as far as he might deem prudent. After or- dering the remainder of the troops as a reserve, under the orders of General Twiggs, I repaired to the abandoned works, and discovered that a portion of General Quitman’s brigade had entered the town, and were successfully working their way towards the principal plaza. I then ordered up the Second Regiment of Texas mounted volun- teers, who entered the city, dismounted, and, under the immediate orders of General Henderson, cooperated with General Quitman’s brigade. Captain Bragg’s battery was also ordered up, and sup- ported by the Third Infantry ; and, after firing for some time at the cathedral, a portion of it was likewise thrown into the city. “ Our troops advanced from house to house, and from square to square, until they reached a street but one square in rear of the principal plaza, in and near which the enemy’s force was mainly concentrated. This advance was conducted vigorously, but with due caution, and, although destructive to the enemy, was attended with but small loss upon our part.” In the mean time American batteries were throwing shot and shell into the city, until the fire endangered our own advancing troops. As Quitman’s brigade was exceedingly exhausted, and night was drawing on, General Taylor ordered them to withdraw to the safer position of the evacuated works. This was done slowly, and in good order. At eleven o’clock at night he received a note from General Worth, stating that he had penetrated the city almost to the central plaza, and that a mortar which had been forwarded to his division in the morning was doing great execution. Early in the morning of Thursday, the 24th, General Taylor re- ceived a dispatch from the Mexican general, Ampudia, proposing to evacuate the town. This led to a cessation of fire until twelve 318 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. o’clock. A personal interview took place between tbe two gen- erals, Taylor and Ampudia, which resulted in a capitulation. The town and its material of war were placed in possession of the victor. The city was found to be very strongly fortified. Its well-con- structed works were armed with forty-two pieces of cannon, and well supplied with ammunition. Our loss was very severe. Twelve officers and one hundred and eight men were killed. Thirty-one officers and three hundred and thirty-seven men were wounded. The loss of the enemy is not known ; but it must have been dread- ful, as our balls and shells tore through their streets and dwellings. An eye-witness thus describes the appearance, as our troops were in the distance storming one of the heights : “Each flash looked like an electric spark. The flashes and the white smoke ascended the hillside as steadily as if worked by machinery. The dark space between the apex of the height and the curling smoke of the mus- ketry grew less and less, until the whole became enveloped in smoke, and we knew that our gallant troops had carried it. It was a glori- ous sight, and quite warmed our cold and chilled bodies.” General Worth’s division had left camp with only two days’ ra- tions, and much of this was spoiled by the rain ; yet they climbed these cliffs and chai’ged these batteries for forty-eight hours, many of them without any food except raw corn. General Taylor, consolidating his strength at Monterey, sent out divisions of his army to occupy important posts in the vicinity. Santa Anna was commander-in-chief of the Mexican armies. He collected twenty thousand men at San Luis Potosi, a city of four thousand inhabitants, about two hundred and fifty miles south of Monterey. General Scott was placed in command of all the land- forces in Mexico. As he was preparing to advance upon the city of Mexico by the way of Vera Cruz, nearly all of General Taylor’s foi'ces were withdrawn from him. For five months General Taylor remained in Monterey, with merely sufficient men to garrison his defensive works ; but in February, having received reinforcements which raised his army to six thousand men, he commenced a forward movement. When about fifty miles south of Monterey, he learned that Santa Anna was rapidly advancing upon him with twenty thou- sand men. To meet such a force with but five thousand, it was necessary that General Taylor should have every possible advantage of position. He found a field such as he desired, on a plateau, a BATTLE. © F I1UENA VI® ZACHARY TAYLOR. 319 short distance from the small hamlet of Buena Yista. Having posted his little band to the best possible advantage, General Taylor, with his staff, stood upon an eminence at a little distance, from which he could see the clouds of dust raised by the immense host advancing against him. Onward the vast throng pi’essed, in numbers which seemed almost countless, until the band of Americans was nearly surrounded. Anxiously his staff looked into the general’s face ; but no sign of faltering or agitation could be perceived. Just then a Mexican messenger was seen nearing the outposts with a fla°: of truce. It was a summons to surrender, with the as- surance that twenty thousand Mexicans were in General Taylor’s front and rear. “Were they twice that number,” General Taylor quietly re- marked to the officers around him, “ it would make no difference.” He then returned the modest answer to Santa Anna, “ General Taylor never surrenders.” As he rode along his ranks, he said to his troops, “ Soldiers, I intend to stand here not only so long as a man remains, but so long as a piece of a man is left.” It was the 22d of February, 1847. The battle soon commenced, — a battle of ten hours’ duration. In the midst of one of its most terrible scenes of tumult and carnage, General Taylor rode up to a battery which was dealing destruction in the ranks of the foe, and, in tones as calm as if he were sitting by his camp-fire, said, “ A little more grape, Captain Bragg.” At the close of the day, over seven hundred of the Americans had been stricken down in killed and wounded, and about two thousand of the Mexicans. Often, during the event- ful day, the result of the conflict was extremely doubtful ; and, when night closed the scene, it seemed probable, in the American camp, that the dreadful struggle would be renewed on the morrow. The day of the battle was wet and raw. Our exhausted troops, drenched and chilled, bivouacked without fires. It was an anxious night ; but in the morning, to their unspeakable relief, they found that the Mexicans had fled. This ended General Taylor’s active participa- tion in the Mexican war. Seldom has a battle been fought in which the troops displayed more gallant conduct than was exhibited by General Taylor’s army at the battle of Buena Yista. All of the troops were volunteers, with the exception of about five hundred. But few of them had been with Taylor in his previous victories, and many of them had 320 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. never been in battle. It is universally admitted that the victory was owing, not merely to the courage and patient endurance of the troops, but also to the military skill of their commander. Three several times during the day, the battle, on our part, seemed hope- lessly lost. The Mexicans were so superior in numbers that they could easily concentrate an overpowering force at any point. With most painful interest, General Taylor watched the movements in various parts of the field, as he dispatched reinforcements, now in one direction and now in another, to strengthen his exhausted and wavering lines. At one time the Second Kentucky Regiment was dispatched to the aid of a column which was slowly giving way before the tre- mendous pressure of the foe. In hurrying to their relief, the regi- ment was compelled to pass through a ravine filled with gullies and obstructions. In their eagerness in pressing forward, and surmount- ing these difficulties they of course became broken, and presented an aspect of confusion and disorder. General Taylor, who was eagerly watching them in the distance, was bitterly disappointed at this apparent failure of troops upon whom he had placed great reliance. Turning sadly to Mr. Crittenden, who stood near, he said, — “This will not do. This is not the way for Kentuckians to be- have themselves.” Mr. Crittenden was also so mortified, and felt so deeply for the honor of his native State, that, for a few moments, he could make no repty. But soon the Kentuckians had crossed the rugged chasm, and were seen ascending the slope to the higher land beyond, shoulder to shoulder, like the veterans of a hundred battles. The general could scarcely restrain his expressions of delight as they moved rapidly on until they reached the crest of the hill. Here they encountered a large body of the Mexicans, rushing onward with shouts of exultation. The Kentuckians leveled their pieces, and poured in their volleys of bullets again and again, with such regu- larity, precision, and rapidity of fire, that the Mexicans recoiled, staggered, and fled, leaving the ground covered with their dead. The general, with a throbbing heart and a moistened eye, but in perfect silence, watched this movement so heroic, and its results so decisive. His face was flushed with excitement, and beamed with delight. But when the distant report of the volleys reached his ear, ZACHARY TAYLOR. 321 and he saw the Mexicans in wild flight, scattered over the plain, he could no longer restrain his admiration, but shouted, “ Hurrah for old Kentucky ! ” A distinguished officer in the army thus describes the appearance of the general toward the close of the conflict : — “ At a time when the fortunes of the day seemed extremely prob- lematical, when many on our side even despaired of success, old Rough and Ready, as he is not inaptly styled (whom you must know, by the by, is short, fat, and dumpy in person, with remarkably short legs), took his position on a commanding height overlooking the two armies. This was about three or perhaps four o’clock in the afternoon. The enemy, who had succeeded in gaining an ad- vantageous position, made a fierce charge upon our column, and fought with a desperation that seemed, for a time, to insure success to their arms. The struggle lasted for some time. All the while General Taylor was a silent spectator ; his countenance exhibiting the most anxious solicitude, alternating between hope and despond- ency. His staff, perceiving his perilous situation, — for he was exposed to the fire of the enemy, — approached him and implored him to retire. He heeded them not. His thoughts were intent upon victory or defeat. He knew not at this moment what the result would be. He felt that that engagement was to decide his fate. He had given all his orders and selected his position. If the day went against him he was irretrievably lost ; if for him, he could rejoice, in common with his countrymen, at the triumphant success of our arms. “ Such seemed to be his thoughts, his determination ; and when he saw the enemy give way and retreat in the utmost confusion, he gave free vent to his pent-up feelings. His right leg was quickly disengaged from the pommel of the saddle, where it had remained dur- ing the whole of the fierce encounter ; his arms, which were calmly folded over his breast, relaxed their hold ; his feet fairly danced in the stirrups ; and bis whole body was in motion. It was a moment of the most exciting and intense interest. His face was suffused with tears. The day was won ; the victory complete ; his little army saved from defeat and disgrace ; and he could not refrain from weeping for joy at what had seemed to so many, but a moment be- fore, as an impossible result.” The tidings of the brilliant victory of Buena Vista spread the 21 322 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. wildest enthusiasm over the country. The name of General Taylor was on every one’s lips. The Whig party decided to take advan- tage of this wonderful popularity in bringing forward the unpol- ished, unlettered, honest soldier as their candidate for the presidency. General Taylor was astonished at the announcement, and for a time would not listen to it ; declaring that he was not at all qualified for such an office. So little interest had he taken in politics that, for forty years, he had not cast a vote. It was not without chagrin that several distinguished statesmen who had been long years in the pub- lic service found their claims set aside in behalf of one whose name had never been heard of, save in connection with Palo Alto, Resaca de la Palma, Monterey, and Buena Vista. It is said that Daniel Webster, in his haste, remarked, “It is a nomination not fit to be made.” General Taylor was not an eloquent speaker or a fine writer. His friends took possession of him, and prepared such few communica- tions as it was needful should be presented to the public. The pop- ularity of the successful warrior swept the land. He was triumph- antly elected over two opposing candidates, — General Cass and the ex-President, Martin Van Buren. Though he selected an excellent Cabinet, the good old man found himself in a very uncongenial posi- tion, and was at times sorely perplexed and harassed. His mental sufferings were very severe, and probably tended to hasten his death. The proslavery party was pushing its claims with tireless energy ; expeditions were fitting out to capture Cuba ; California was plead- ing for admission to the Union, while slavery stood at the door to bar her out. General Taylor found the political conflicts in Wash- ington to be far more trying to the nerves than battles with Mexi- cans or Indians. In the midst of all these troubles, General Taylor, after he had occupied the presidential chair but little over a year, took cold, and, after a brief sickness of but five days, died on the 9th of July, 1850. His last words were, “I am not afraid to die. I am ready. I have endeavored to do my duty.” He died universally respected and be- loved. An honest, unpretending man, he had been steadily grow- ing in the affections of th^, people ; and the nation bitterly lamented his death. All assented to the general truthfulness of the following eulogy, pronounced by the Hon. Mr. Marshall : — “ Great, without pride ; cautious, without fear ; brave, without ZACHARY TAYLOR. 323 rashness ; stern, without harshness ; modest, without bashfulness ; apt, without flippancy ; sagacious, without cunning ; benevolent, without ostentation ; sincere and honest as the sun, — the noble old Roman has, at last, laid down his earthly harness : his task is done.” General Scott, who was thoroughly acquainted with General Tay- lor, gives the following graphic and truthful description of his char- acter : — “With a good store of common sense, General Taylor’s mind had not been enlarged and refreshed by reading, or much converse with the world. Rigidity of ideas was the consequence. The frontiers and small military posts had been his home. Hence he was quite ignorant for his rank, and quite bigoted in his ignorance. His sim- plicity was child-like, and with innumerable prejudices, amusing and incorrigible, well suited to the tender age. Thus, if a man, however respectable, chanced to wear a coat of an unusual color, or his hat a little on one side of the head, or an officer to leave a corner of his handkerchief dangling from an outside pocket, — in any such case, this critic held the offender to be a coxcomb (per- haps something worse), whom he would not, to use his oft-repeated phrase, ‘ touch with a pair of tongs.’ “ Any allusion to literature beyond good old Dilworth’s Spelling- book, on the part of one wearing a sword, was evidence, with the same judge, of utter unfitness for heavy marchings and combats. In short, few men have ever had a more comfortable, labor-saving contempt for learning of every kind. Yet this old soldier and neo- phyte statesman had the true basis of a great character, — pure, uncorrupted morals, combined with indomitable courage. Kind- hearted, sincere, and hospitable in a plain way, he had no vice but prejudice, many friends, and left behind him not an enemy in the world.” CHAPTER XIII, fortune, in humble circumstances. Of his mother, the daughter of Dr. Abiathar Millard of Pittsfield, Mass., it has been said that she possessed an intellect of very high order, united with much per- MILLARD FILLMORE. His Lowly Birth. — Struggles with Adversity. —Limited Education. — Eagerness for Intel- lectual Improvement. — A Clothier. — A Law Student. — Commencement of Practice. — Rapid Rise. — Political Life. — In Congress. — Vice-President. — President. — His Ad- ministration. — Retirement. — The Civil War. Millard Fillmore, the thirteenth President of the United States, was. born at Summer Hill, Cayuga County, N. Y., on the 7th of January, 1800. His father was a farmer, and, owing to mis- RESIDENC'E OF MILLARD FILLMORE. MILLARD FILLMORE. 325 sonal loveliness, sweetness of disposition, graceful manners, and ex- quisite sensibilities. She died in 1831 ; having lived to see her son a young man of distinguished promise, though she was not permitted to witness the high dignity which he finally attained. In consequence of the secluded home and limited means of his father, Millard enjoyed but slender advantages for education in his early years. The common schools, which he occasionally attended, were very imperfect institutions ; and books were scarce and ex- pensive. There was nothing then in his character to indicate the brilliant career upon which he was about to enter. He was a plain farmer’s boy ; intelligent, good-looking, kind-hearted. The sacred influences of home had taught him to revere the Bible, and had laid the foundations of an upright character. When fourteen years of age, his father sent him some hundred miles from home, to the then wilds of Livingston County, to learn the trade of a clothier. Near the mill there was a small village, where some enterprising man had commenced the collection of a village library. This proved an inestimable blessing to young Fillmore. His evenings were spent in reading. Soon every leisure moment was occupied with books. His thirst for knowledge became insatiate ; and the selections which he made were continually more elevating and instructive. He read history, biography, oratory ; and thus gradually there was enkin- dling in his heart a desire to be something more than a mere worker with his hands ; and he was becoming, almost unknown to himself, a well-informed, educated man. This intellectual culture of necessity pervaded his whole being. It beamed forth from his countenance; it inspired his words; it placed its impress of dignity and refinement upon his manners. The young clothier had now attained the age of nineteen years, and was of fine personal appearance and of gentlemanly demeanor. It so happened that there was a gentleman in the neighborhood of ample pecuniary means and of benevolence, — Judge Walter Wood, — who was struck with the prepossessing appearance of young Fillmore. He made his acquaintance, and was so much impressed with his ability and attainments, that he advised him to abandon his trade, and devote himself to the study of the law. The young man replied that he had no means of his own, no friends to help him, and that his Drevious education had been very imperfect. But Judge Wood had so much confidence in him that he kindly offered 326 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. to take him into his own office, and to loan him such money as he needed. Most gratefully the generous offer was accepted. There is in many minds a strange delusion about a collegiate education. A young man is supposed to be liberally educated if he has graduated at some college. But many a boy loiters through university halls, and then enters a law office, who is by no means as well prepared to prosecute his legal studies as was Millard Fillmore when he graduated at the clothing-mill at the end of four years of manual labor, during which every leisure moment had been devoted to intense mental culture. Young Fillmore was now established in the law office. The purity of his character, the ardor of his zeal, his physical health, and his native abilities, all combined to bear him triumphantly forward in his studies. That he might not be burdened with debt, and that he might not bear too heavily on the generosity of his benefactor, he, during the winter months, taught school, and, in various other ways, helped himself along. After spending two years in this retired country village, he went to the city of Buffalo, and entered a law office there, where he could enjoy the highest advantages. Here, for two years more, he pressed onward in his studies with untiring zeal, at the same time supporting himself mainly by teaching. In 1823, when twenty-three years of age, he was admitted to the Court of Common Pleas. He then went to the beautiful little village of Aurora, situated on the eastern banks of Cayuga Lake, and commenced the practice of the law. In this secluded, peaceful region, his practice, of course, was limited, and there was no oppor- tunity for a sudden rise in fortune or in fame. Here, in the year 1826, he married a lady of great moral worth, and one capable of adorning any station she might be called to fill, — Miss Abigail Powers, daughter of Rev. Lemuel Powers. In this quiet home of rural peace and loveliness, Mr. Fillmore continued to devote himself to juridical studies, and to the fundamental principles of law, as if he had been conscious of the exalted destiny which was before him. Probably no portion of his life was more happy than these serene, untroubled hours. But true merit cannot long be concealed. His elevation of char- acter, his untiring industry, his legal acquirements, and his skill as an advocate, gradually attracted attention, and he was invited to MILLARD FILLMORE. 327 enter into partnership, under highly advantageous circumstances, with an elder member of the bar in Buffalo. Just before removing to Buffalo, in 1829, he took his seat in the House of Assembly of the State of New York, as representative from Erie County. Though he had never taken a very active part in politics, his vote and his sympathies were with the Whig party. The State was then Democratic, and he found himself in a helpless minority in the legislature ; still the testimony comes from all parties, that his courtesy, ability, and integrity won, to a very unusual degree, the respect of his associates. To the important bill for abolishing im- prisonment for debt he gave his earnest and eloquent cooperation, speaking upon the subject with convincing power. The state Legislature is not unfrequently the entrance-door to the national Congress. After disckai’ging, with great acceptance to his Whig constituents, his responsibilities in the House of Assembly for three years, he was, in the autumn of 1832, elected to a seat in the United States Congress. He entered that troubled arena in some of the most tumultuous hours of our national history. The great conflict respecting the National Bank, and the removal of the depos- its, was then raging. Experienced leaders, veterans in congressional battles, led the contending hosts. There was but little opportunity for a new-comer to distinguish himself. In this battle of the giants Mr. Fillmore could do but little more than look on, study the scene, garner wisdom, watch his opportunity, and cast his silent vote. His term of two years closed, and he returned to his profession, which he pursued with increasing reputation and success. After the lapse of two years he again became a candidate for Congress, was reelected, and took his seat in 1837. His past experience as a rep- resentative gave him strength and confidence. The first term of service in Congress to any man can be but little more than an intro- duction. He was now prepared for active duty. All his energies were brought to bear upon the public good. Every measure received his impress. The industry and the intensity with which he applied himself to his congressional duties were characteristic of the man, and have, perhaps, never been surpassed. His reputation now began to be national. The labors which de- volved upon him were more arduous than can well be conceived of by one who has not been in the same situation. To draft resolu- tions in the committee-room, and then to defend them against the 328 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. most skillful opponents on the floor of the house, requires readiness of mind, mental resources, and skill in debate, such as few possess. Weary with these exhausting labors, and pressed by the claims of his private affairs, Mr. Fillmore, just before the close of the session, wrote a letter to his constituents, declining to be a candidate for re- election. Notwithstanding this communication, his friends met in convention, and unanimously, and by acclamation, renominated him, with the most earnest expression of their desire that he would com- ply with their wishes. Though greatly gratified by this proof of their appreciation of his labors, he adhered to his resolve ; and, at the close of the term for which he was elected, he returned to his home, rejoicing at his release from the agitating cares of official life. Mr. Fillmore was now a man of wide repute, and his popularity filled the State. The lines between the two parties, the Whig and Democratic, were strongly drawn ; and the issues involved excited the community to the highest degree. The Whig party brought forward Mr. Fillmore as the strongest candidate whom they could present for the office of governor. The canvass was one of the most exciting which had ever agitated the State, and the Whig party was signally defeated. In the year 1847 he was elected, by a verv great majority, to the very important office of comptroller of the State. Many who were not with him in political principles gave him their vote, from their conviction of his eminent fitness for that office. In entering upon the responsible duties which this situation de- manded, it was necessary for him to abandon his profession, and, sundering those social ties which bound him to his numerous friends in Buffalo, to remove to the city of Albany. It was universally ad- mitted that the duties of this office were never more faithfully dis- charged. Mr. Fillmore had attained the age of forty-seven years. His labors at the bar, in the Legislature, in Congress, and as comptroller, had given him very considerable fame. The Whigs were casting about to find suitable candidates for President and Vice-President at the approaching election. Far away, on the watei’s of the Rio Grande, there was a rough old soldier, who had fought one or two successful battles with the Mexicans, which had caused his name to be proclaimed in trumpet-tones all over the land. He was an un- polished, unlettered man, entirely inexperienced in all statesmanlike MILLARD FILLMORE. 329 accomplishments ; but he was a man of firmness, of uncompromising integrity, and of sound common sense and practical wisdom. He was an available man ; for “ Palo Alto ” and “ Resaca de la Palma ” would ring pleasantly upon the popular ear, and catch the popular vote. But it was necessary to associate with him on the same ticket some man of reputation as a statesman, and in whose intel- lectual powers and varied experience the community might repose confidence. Under the influence of these considerations, the names of Zachary Taylor and Millard Fillmore became the rallying-cry of the Whigs as their candidates for President and Vice-President. The Whig ticket was signally triumphant. On the 4th of March, 1849, Gen- eral Taylor was inaugurated President, and Millard Fillmore Vice- President, of the United States. He was admirably adapted for this position. His tall, well-proportioned, manly form, and the nat- ural dignity and grace of his bearing, gave him an imposing pres- ence. His mind, originally of a high order, and disciplined by the laborious culture of years, enabled him promptly and successfully to meet every intellectual emergency. His countenance gave ex- pression to those traits of firmness, gentleness, and conscientious- ness which marked his character. The stormy days of the republic were now at hand. The great question of slavery was permeating every subject which was brought before Congress, shaping the whole legislation of the country, arous- ing fiery debate, arraying parties in hostile lines in the Senate and in the House, and agitating as with earthquake-throes every city and village in the Union. It was evident that the strength of our institutions was soon to be severely tried. John C. Calhoun, when president of the Senate, had taken the position that he had no power to call a senator to order for words, however intemperate, when spoken in debate. Vice-President Fillmore, upon taking his chair as presiding officer over that august body, announced to the Senate his determination to maintain decorum in that chamber, and that he should promptly call senators to order for any offensive words which might be spoken. The Senate manifested its approval of this decision by unanimously ordering the views thus expressed to be entered upon their journal. On the 9th of July, 1850, President Taylor, but about one year and four months after his inauguration, was suddenly taken sick, 330 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. and died. By the Constitution, Vice-President Fillmore thus be- came President of the United States. He appointed a very able Cabinet, of which the illustrious Daniel Webster was Secretary of State. The agitated condition of the country brought questions of very great delicacy before him. He was bound by his oath of office to execute the laws of the United States. One of those laws was understood to be, that if a slave, escaping from bondage, should UNITED STATES SENATE. reach a free State, the United States was bound to help catch him, and return him to his master. Most Christian men loathed this law. President Fillmore felt bound by his oath rigidly to see it enforced. Slavery was organizing armies to invade Cuba, as it had invaded Texas, and annex it to the United States. President Fillmore gave all the influence of his exalted station against the atrocious enterprise. The illustrious Hungarian, Kossuth, visited our shores, and was cordially received by the President, while he frankly informed him that it was the policy of our government to avoid all complications in European affairs. Mr. Fillmore had very serious difficulties to contend with, since MILLARD FILLMORE. 331 the opposition had a majority in both houses. He did everything in his power to conciliate the South ; but the proslavery party in the South felt the inadequacy of all measures of transient concilia- tion. The population of the free States was so rapidly increasing over that of the slave States, that it was inevitable that the power of the government should soon pass into the hands of the free States. The famous compromise measures were adopted under Mr. Fill- more’s administration, and the Japan Expedition was sent out. On the 4th of March, 1853, Mr. Fillmore, having served one term, retired from office. He then took a long tour throughout the South, where he met with quite an enthusiastic reception. In a speech at Vicksburg, alluding to the rapid growth of the country, he said, — “ Canada is knocking for admission, and Mexico would be glad to come in ; and, without saying whether it would be right or wrong, we stand with open arms to receive them : for it is the manifest destiny of this government to embrace the whole North American continent.” In 1855 President Fillmore went to Europe, where he was re- ceived with those marked attentions which his position and charac- ter merited. Returning to this country in 1856, he was nominated for the presidency by the strangely called “ Know-Nothing ” party. Mr. Buchanan, the Democratic candidate, was the successful com- petitor for the prize. After that time Mr. Fillmore lived in retire- ment. During the terrible conflict of the civil war he was mostly silent. It was generally supposed that his sympathies were rather with those who were endeavoring to overthrow our institutions. Edward Everett, who had been a candidate for the vice-presidency, left no one in doubt respecting his abhorrence of the Rebellion, and his devotion to his country’s flag. President Fillmore kept aloof from the conflict, without any cordial words of cheer to the one party or the other. He was thus forgotten by both. He died in Buffalo, N. Y., March 8, 1874, aged seventy-five years and two months. CHAPTER XIV. FRANKLIN PIERCE. Character of his Father. — His Promise in Boyhood. — College Life. — Political Views. — Suc- cess as a Lawyer. — Entrance upon Public Life. — Service in the Mexican War. — Landin in Mexico. — March through the Country. — Incidents of the March. — Anecdotes. — Nona nation for the Fresidency. — Election. — Administration. — Retirement. Franklin Pierce, the fourteenth President of the United States, was born in Hillsborough, N. H., November 23, 1804. His father RESIDENCE OF FRANKLIN PIERCE. was a Revolutionary soldier, who, with his own strong arm, hewed him out a home in the wilderness. He was a man of inflexible in- tegrity ; of strong, though uncultivated mind ; and an uncompro- '• crq FRANKLIN PIERCE. 333 raising Democrat. When, under the administration of John Adams, an effort was made to draw our country into an alliance with Eng- land in her war against the French republic, Major Pierce, as his title then was, was offered a high commission in the army which was proposed to be levied. “ No, gentlemen,” was his reply. “ Poor as I am, and acceptable as would be the position under other circumstances, I would sooner go to yonder mountains, dig me a cave and live on roast potatoes, than be instrumental in promoting the objects for which that army is x - aised.” His energetic and upright character and commanding abilities gave him gi’eat influence in the secluded region where he dwelt, and he occupied nearly every post of honor and emolument which his neighbors could confer upon him. He was for several years in the state Legislature ; was a member of the governor’s council, and a general of the militia. He was an independent farmer ; a generous, large-hearted, hospitable man. The mother of Franklin Pierce was all that a son could desire, — an intelligent, prudent, affectionate, Christian woman. Franklin was the sixth of eight children. Old General Pierce was a politician, ever ready for argument ; and there was ample opportunity for the exercise of his powers in those days of intense political excitement, when, all over the New England States, Federalists and Democrats were arrayed so fiercely against each other. Franklin, as a boy, listened eagerly to the ar- guments of his father, enforced by strong and ready utterance and earnest gestures. It was in this school that he was led to ally him- self with the Democratic party so closely as to be ready to follow wherever it might lead. Franklin was a very bright and handsome boy, generous, warm- hearted, and brave. He won alike the love of old and young. The boys on the play-ground loved him. His teachers loved him. The neighbors looked upon him with pride and affection. He was by instinct a gentleman ; always speaking kind words, doing kind deeds, with a peculiar unstudied tact which taught him what was agreea- ble. Without developing any precocity of genius, or any unnatural devotion to books, he was a good scholar ; in bod} 7 , in mind, in af- fections, a finely-developed boy. When sixteen years of age, in the year 1820, he entered Bowdoin College at Brunswick, M^. The writer there became personally ac- 334 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. quainted with him. He was one of the most popular young men in college. The purity of his moral character, the unvarying courtesy of his demeanor, his rank as a scholar, and his genial nature, ren- dered him a universal favorite. There was something very pecul- iarly winning in his address, and it was evidently not in the slightest degree studied : it was the simple outgushing of his own magnani- mous and loving nature. Upon graduating, in the year 1824, Franklin Pierce commenced the study of law in the office of Judge Woodbury, one of the most distinguished lawyers of the State, and a man of great private worth. The eminent social qualities of the young lawyer, his father’s prom- inence as a public man, and the brilliant political career into which Judge Woodbury was entering, all tended to entice Mr. Pierce into the fascinating yet perilous paths of political life. With all the ais dor of his nature, he espoused the cause of General Jackson for the presidency. He commenced the practice of law in Hillsborough, and was soon elected to represent the town in the state Legislature. Here he served for four years. The two last years he was chosen speaker of the house by a very lai’ge vote. In 1833, at the age of twenty-nine, he was elected a member of Congress. Without taking an active part in the debates, he was faithful and laborious in duty, and ever rising in the estimation of those with whom he was associated. Strenuously he supported the administration of General Jackson, securing not only the confidence, but the personal friendship, of that extraordinary man. Mr. Pierce sympathized in the fears of the State-Rights party, that the national government would consolidate so much power as to endanger the liberties of the individual States. In Congress he warmly allied himself with the Democratic party, being apparently in sympathy with them in all its measures. In 1837, being then but thirty-three years of age, he was elected to the Senate of the United States, taking his seat just as Mr. Yan Buren commenced his administration. He was the youngest menu ber in the Senate. The ablest men our country has produced were then among the leaders of the Democracy, — Calhoun, Buchanan, Benton. Senator Pierce was a remarkably fluent, graceful speaker, always courteous and good-tempered ; and his speeches were listened to by both parties with interest. In the year 1834 he married Miss Jane Means Appleton, a lady of rare beauty and accomplishments, FRANKLIN PIERCE. 335 and one admirably fitted to adorn every station with which her hus- band was honored. Of three sons who were born to them, all now sleep with their mother in the grave. In the year 1838, Mr. Pierce, with growing fame, and increasing business as a lawyer, took up his residence in Concord, the capital of New Hampshire. The citizens of his native town, in token of their high esteem, gave him a parting dinner. He devoted himself with new zeal to his duties at the bar, and took his rank at once among the ablest lawyers. His tact, his genial spirit, and his un- varying courtesy, gave him extraordinary power with a jury. It is said that he was never known to insult, browbeat, or endeavor to terrify, a witness. GENERAL PIERCE LANDING IN MEXICO. President Polk, upon his accession to office, appointed Mr. Pierce attorney-general of the United States ; but the offer was declined, in consequence of numerous professional engagements at home, and the precarious state of Mrs. Pierce’s health. He also, about the same time, declined the nomination for governor by the Democratic party. The war with Mexico called Mr. Pierce into the army. 336 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS. Receiving the appointment of brigadier-general, he embarked, with a portion of his troops, at Newport, R. I., on the 27th of May, 1847. General Pierce landed upon a sand-beach, at a place called Vir- gara, on the 28th of June. There was already an encampment of about five hundred men, under the command of Major Lally, at that place. He was ordered to make no delay there, and yet no prepa- rations had been made for his departure. About two thousand wild mules had been collected from the prairies ; but a stampede had taken place, in which fifteen hundred had disappeared. He was compelled to remain for several weeks in this encampment, upon sand as smooth as a floor, and so hard that it would scarcely show the footprints of a mule. For three miles the waves dashed mag- nificently on this extensive beach. Though the mornings were close, and the heat excessive, by eleven o’clock a fine sea-breeze always set in. There were frequent tropical showers, in which the rain fell in floods ; and there were peals of thunder such as are rarely heard, and flashes of lightning, such as are, perhaps, never seen, in regions farther north. Every morning the troops were under drill : they could not bear the exposure to the midday sun. Though they were not far from, the city, General Pierce preferred to dwell in his tent upon the beach, rather than to occupy any of the houses. Vigorous meas- ures were adopted to collect mules and mustangs, in preparation for their advance. These animals were generally caught wild upon fhe prairies, unaccustomed to the harness, and even to the bridle. Much labor was required in taming them, and in breaking them to harness. The troops were kept constantly on the alert, in anticipation of an attack from the Mexicans. At ten o’clock in the evening of the 7th of July there was an alarm. Musketry-firing was heard in the direction of the advanced pickets. The long-roll was beaten, and the whole command was instantly formed in line of battle. It proved to be a false alarm, or rather was caused by the approach of a small band of guerrillas to the vicinity of the sentinels. The next day, July 9th, Lieutenant Whip- ple was lured by curiosity to visit the cemetery, near the walls of the city. Imprudently he went unarmed, and accompanied but by a single private. Six guerrillas attacked, overpowered, and seized him ; while the private escaped, and informed General Pierce. He im- FRANKLIN PIERCE. 337 mediately dispatched a troop of cavalry in pursuit ; but no trace of Lieutenant Whipple could be discovered. In a few days, however, they learned that his life had been spared, but that he was a pris- oner about twelve miles from the camp. A detachment was sent by night to surprise the banditti. They took the village ; but the guerrillas fled, taking their prisoner with them. At length, on the 13th of July, after a delay of nearly three weeks, and after great labor and perplexity, General Pierce was able to give orders for an advance. The beautiful beach was covered with wagons, mules, horses, and all the imposing paraphernalia of war. On the morning of the 14th eighty wagons started, under Captain Wood. They took the Jalapa road for San Juan, twelve miles distant. There they were to await the remainder of the brigade. The heat was so intense that they could not move between the hours of nine in the morning and four in the afternoon. Colonel Ransom accompanied the train with two companies of infantry. Everything being ready, they moved at an early hour, in fine order and spirits. The next day a detachment of six companies was sent off. It was not until the 16th that General Pierce was able to leave. In his journal he writes, — “ After much perplexity and delay, on account of the unbroken and intractable teams, I left the camp this afternoon at five o’clock, with the Fourth Artillery, Watson’s marine corps, a detachment of the third dragoons, and about forty wagons. The road was very heavy, the wheels were sinking almost to the hubs in sand, and the untried and untamed teams almost constantly bolting in some part of the train. We were occupied rather in breaking the animals to harness than in performing a march. At ten o’clock at night we bivouacked in the darkness and sand by the wagons in the road, having made but three miles from camp.” The next morning, at four o’clock, they were again on the move. The road was still heavy with sand, leading over short, steep hills. At eight o’clock in the morning they reached Santa Fe, but eight miles from Vera Cruz. The heat of a blazing, torrid sun was now overpowering ; and the army remained in camp until four o’clock in the afternoon. Just before starting, two muleteers came in, greatly agitated, bringing the report that five hundred guerrillas, armed to the teeth, were on the Jalapa road, rushing on to attack 22 238 LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS . the camp. The whole force was immediately called to arms, and two pieces of artillery placed in position to command the road. It either proved a false alarm, or the guerrillas, taking counsel of dis- cretion, changed their course. Resuming their march at four o’clock, the column reached San Juan about nine o’clock in the evening, in a drenching rain. The guerrillas had attempted to retard the march by destroying a bridge over one of the branches of the San Juan River ; but the New Eng- land men, accustomed to every variety of work, almost without de- lay repaired the structure. All night, all the next day, and the next night, the rain poured in such floods as are nowhere seen, save in the tropics. The encampment was on low ground, along the margin of the stream. As there was nothing but mud and water to rest in, it was thought best to continue the mai’ch. On the 20th they reached TelemaNueva, twenty-four miles from Vera