Chapter 14

Meanwhile the relations between Secretary Eaton and his colleagues of the Treasury, Navy, and Department of Justice, became more and more unfriendly, until all communication other than of the most formal official character ceased. The soul of the President was vexed beyond endurance; and as under existing conditions harmony in his official family was impossible, he determined upon a reorganization of his Cabinet. To this end, the resignations of Van Buren, Eaton, and Barry were voluntarily tendered, and promptly accepted. A formal request from the President to Messrs. Ingham, Branch, and Berrien secured the resignation of these three official advisers; and thus was brought about what is known in our political history as "the disruption of Jackson's Cabinet."

The three gentlemen whose resignations had been voluntarily tendered, were, in modern political parlance, at once "taken care of." Mr. Van Buren was appointed minister to St. James, Barry to Madrid, and Eaton to the governorship of Florida Territory. No such good fortune, however, was in store for either Ingham, Branch, or Berrien. Each was, henceforth, _persona non grata_ with President Jackson.

The end, however, was not yet. A publication by the retiring Secretary of the Treasury contained an uncomplimentary allusion to Mrs. Eaton, which resulted first in his receiving a challenge from her husband, and later in a street altercation.

The almost forgotten incidents just mentioned were rapidly leading up to matters of deep consequence. The true significance of the words of Webster last quoted will now appear. A rupture, never yet fully explained, now occurred between President Jackson and Mr. Calhoun. The intention of the former to secure to Mr. Van Buren the succession to the presidency was no longer a matter of doubt.

Van Buren, "the favorite," was meanwhile reposing upon no bed of roses. He was, in very truth, "in the thick of events." His confirmation as Minister was defeated by the casting vote of Vice-President Calhoun, after the formal presentation of his credentials to the Court to which he had been accredited. It was believed that this rejection would prove the death knell to Van Buren's Presidential hopes. But it was not so to be. His rejection aroused deep sympathy, secured his nomination upon the ticket with Jackson in 1832, and for four years he presided over the great body which had so lately rejected his nomination, and as is well known, four years later he was chosen to succeed Jackson as President. Unfortunately for Calhoun, one of the ablest and purest of statesmen, he had incurred the hostility of Jackson, and never attained the goal of his ambition.

During my interview with Mrs. Eaton I said to her, "Madam, you must have known General Jackson when he was President?" "Known General Jackson," she replied, "known General Jackson?" "Oh, yes," I said, "your husband was a member of his Cabinet and of course you must have known him. I would like to know what kind of a man General Jackson really was?" "What kind of a man," replied Mrs. Eaton in a manner and tone not easily forgotten. "What kind of _a man_--a god, sir, a god." The spirit of the past seemed over her, as with trembling voice and deep emotion she spoke of the man whose powerful and unfaltering friendship had been her stay and bulwark during the terrible ordeal through which she had passed.

Accompanying her that evening to the humble home provided for her by a distant relative, she remarked, "I have seen the time, sir, when I could have invited you to an elegant home." She then said that when Major Eaton died, he left for her an ample fortune but that some years later she unfortunately married a man younger than herself, who succeeded in getting her property into his hands and then cruelly deserted her.

Fiction indeed seems commonplace when contrasted with the story of real life such as this now penniless and forgotten woman had known. Once surrounded by all that wealth could give, herself one of the most beautiful and accomplished of women, her husband the incumbent of exalted official position,--now, wealth, beauty, and position vanished; the grave hiding all she loved; sitting in silence and desolation, the memories of the long past almost her sole companions. When in the tide of time has there been truer realization of the words of the great bard--

"The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, Good and ill together?"

X THE CODE OF HONOR

BLADENSBURG, A PLACE NOTORIOUS FOR DUELS--FRANKLIN'S OPINION OF DUELLING--NOTABLE MEN WHO FELL IN DUELS--FATAL DUEL BETWEEN COMMODORES BARRON AND DECATUR--THE LAST DUEL FOUGHT AT BLADENSBURG--ITS CAUSE A MERE PUNCTILIO--THE WRITER'S INTERVIEW WITH ONE OF THE SECONDS-- A DUEL IN REVOLUTION DAYS--GEORGE WASHINGTON DISSUADES GEN. GREENE FROM ACCEPTING A CHALLENGE--GEN. CONWAY, FOR CONSPIRING AGAINST WASHINGTON, WOUNDED BY COL. CADWALLADER--GEN. CHARLES LEE, ANOTHER CONSPIRATOR, WOUNDED BY COL. LAURENS--DUEL BETWEEN CLINTON, "THE FATHER OF THE ERIE CANAL," AND MR. SWARTOUT--THREE NOTABLE REPLIES TO CHALLENGES--THE FATAL DUEL BETWEEN HAMILTON AND BURR --UNHAPPINESS OF BURR'S OLD AGE--DUEL BETWEEN SENATOR BRODERICK AND JUDGE TERRY--A HARMLESS DUEL BETWEEN SENATOR GWIN AND MR. McCORKLE--A MURDER UNDER THE GUISE OF A DUEL--DUELLING BY ILLINOISANS --LINCOLN'S INSTRUCTIONS FOR THE PRELIMINARIES OF HIS DUEL WITH SENATOR SHIELDS.

The very name "Bladensburg" is suggestive of pistol and bullet, savors indeed of human blood. It is associated with tragic events that during successive generations stirred emotions of indignation and horror that have not yet wholly died out from the memories of men. As the words "Baden-Baden" and "Monte Carlo" bring before us the gambler "steeped in the colors of his trade," so the mere mention of Bladensburg calls to mind the duellist, pistol in hand, standing in front of his slain antagonist.

Personal difficulties are now rarely if ever in this country adjusted by an appeal to "the code." The custom, now universally condemned as barbarous, was at an early day practically upheld by an almost omnipotent public opinion. As is well known, in many localities to have declined an invitation to "the field of honor" from one entitled to the designation of a "gentleman" would have entailed not only loss of social position, but to a public man would have been a bar to future political advancement. Thanks to a higher civilization, and possibly a more exalted estimate of the sacredness of human life, the code in all our American States is a thing of the past.

And yet, revolting as the custom now appears, it held its place as a recognized method for the settlement of personal controversies among "gentlemen," to a time within the memories of men still living. The code, a heritage from barbaric times, lingered till it had caused more than one bloody chapter to be written, until it had taken from the walks of life more than one of our most gifted American statesmen.

Truer words were never written than those of Franklin at the time when the code was appealed to for the settlement of every dispute pertaining to personal honor: "A duel decides nothing; the man appealing to it, makes himself judge in his own cause, condemns the offender without a jury, and undertakes himself to be the executioner." And yet, the startling record remains that in the State of New Jersey, one of the ablest and most brilliant of statesmen met death at the hands of an antagonist scarcely less gifted, who was at the time Vice-President of the United States. The survivor of an encounter equally tragic, occurring near the banks of the Cumberland in 1806, was a little more than a score of years later elevated to the Presidency. The valuable life of the Secretary of State during the administration of the younger Adams was saved only by his antagonist magnanimously refusing to return the fire which came within an ace of ending his own life. Thirteen years after the Clay and Randolph duel, a member of Congress from Maine perished in an encounter at Bladensburg with a representative from Kentucky. Sixty-six years ago, a challenge to mortal combat was accepted by one who in later years was twice elected to the Presidency. One of the signers of the Declaration of Independence fell in a duel with an officer of the Colonial army, soon after that great event. There are many yet living who read the startling telegram from the Pacific coast that a Senator from California had fallen in a duel with the Chief Justice of that State, and sad as it is, this dreadful recital might be much farther extended.

While a member of Congress many years ago, in company with Representatives Knott and McKenzie of Kentucky I spent some hours upon the historic duelling ground at Bladensburg, a Maryland village of a few hundred inhabitants, six miles from the city of Washington. Governor Knott pointed out the exact spot where Barron and Decatur stood in the memorable duel in 1820, in which the latter was killed. It is impossible to read the account of this fatal meeting even after the lapse of more than four score years, without a feeling of profound regret for the sad fate of one of the most gallant of all the brave officers the American Navy has known. It was truly said of Decatur: "He was one of the most chivalric men of any age or country." He was one of the little band of naval commanders who by heroic exploits at sea did so much to redeem the American name from the humiliation and disgrace caused by incompetent generalship upon land, in our second war with Great Britain. His encounters with the enemy were of frequent occurrence, and in each instance added new laurels to our little navy. If Commodore Decatur had rendered no other service to his country, that of the destruction of the Algerine pirates would alone entitle him to a place among its benefactors. His skill and daring when in command of our little fleet upon the Mediterranean destroyed forever the power of "the common enemy of mankind," avenged the insult to our flag, and secured for the American name an honored place among the nations of the world.

The tragic death of Decatur--recalling so much of gallant service-- has cast a spell about his name. It belongs in the list of immortals, with the names of Sir Walter Raleigh, Captain Lawrence, Lord Nelson, and Oliver Hazard Perry. Cities and counties without number throughout our entire country have been given the honored name of Decatur.

Commodore Barron, too, had known much active service. For an alleged official delinquency, he had been court-martialed near the close of the War of 1812, and sentenced to a suspension of five years from his command. Smarting under this humiliation, he was bitter in his denunciation of all who were in any way concerned in what he regarded an act of flagrant injustice to himself. Chief among the officers who had incurred his displeasure was Commodore Decatur. A protracted and at length hostile correspondence ensued between the two, and this correspondence resulted at length in a challenge from Barron, accepted by Decatur. The latter had repeatedly declared that he bore no personal hostility toward Barron. Before going to the fatal field he told his friend William Wirt--then the Attorney-General of the United States--that he did not wish to meet Barron, and that the duel was forced upon him. When he received the challenge, he assured a brother officer that nothing could induce him to take the life of Barron. In connection with this sad affair, Mr. Wirt--who was untiring in his efforts to effect a reconciliation--has left the record of a conversation with Decatur in which the latter declared his hostility to the practice of duelling, but that he was "controlled by the omnipotence of public sentiment." "Fighting," said he, "is my profession, and it would be impossible for me to keep my station and preserve my respectability without showing myself ready at all times to answer the call of any one who bore the name of gentleman."

The hostile meeting between Barron and Decatur occurred at the place already mentioned, March 22, 1820. The distance was eight paces, the weapons, pistols. Decatur's second was Captain Bainbridge, at a later day a distinguished admiral in our navy. As they took their places at the deadly range, Barron said, "I hope on meeting in another world we will be better friends than in this." To which Decatur replied, "I have never been your enemy, sir." At the word both pistols were discharged, making but a single report. Both combatants fell. Decatur was supported a short distance, and sank down near his antagonist, who was severely--and as it was then supposed, mortally--wounded. Mr. Wirt says:

"What then occurred reminded me of the closing scenes of the tragedy between Hamlet and Laertes. Barron proposed that they should make friends before they met in another world. Decatur said he had never been his enemy, that he freely forgave him his death, but he could not forgive those who had stimulated him to seek his life. Barron then said: 'Would to God you had said that much yesterday.'"

Thus they parted in peace. Decatur knew he was to die, and his only regret was that he had not died in the service of his country.

The last duel fought at Bladensburg was in 1838, between Jonathan Cilley and William J. Graves. The former was at the time a Representative in Congress from Maine, and the latter from Kentucky. In its main features, this duel is without a parallel. It was fought upon a pure technicality. The parties to it never exchanged an unkind word, and were in fact, almost up to the day of the fatal meeting, comparative strangers to each other.

Briefly related, the fatal meeting between Cilley and Graves came about in this wise. In a speech in the House, Mr. Cilley in replying to an editorial in _The New York Courier and Inquirer,_ criticised severely the conduct of its proprietor, James Watson Webb, a noted Whig editor of that day. At this, the latter, being deeply offended and failing to obtain a retraction by Cilley of the offensive words, challenged him to mortal combat. The bearer of this challenge was William J. Graves, a prominent Whig member of the House. Mr. Cilley in his letter to Mr. Graves, in which he declined to receive the challenge of Webb, said: "I decline to receive it because I choose to be drawn into no controversy with him. I neither affirm nor deny anything in regard to his character, but I now repeat what I have said to you, that I intended by the refusal no disrespect to you."

This letter was considered unsatisfactory by Graves, and he immediately sent by his colleague Mr. Menifee, a note to Cilley then in his seat in the House, saying: "In declining to receive Colonel Webb's communication, you do not disclaim any exception to him personally as a gentleman. I have, therefore, to inquire whether you declined to receive his communication on the ground of any personal exception to him as a gentleman or a man of honor." Mr. Cilley declining to give the categorical answer demanded, was immediately challenged by Graves. The challenge was borne by Mr. Wise, a Representative from Virginia. On the same evening, Mr. Jones--then a delegate and later a Senator from Iowa--as the second of Cilley, handed the note of acceptance of the latter to Graves. Bladensburg was designated as the place of meeting, rifles the weapons, the distance eight yards, the rifles to be held horizontally at arm's length down, to be cocked and triggers set, the words to be, "Gentlemen, are you ready?" Some delay was occasioned by the difficulty in procuring a suitable rifle for Mr. Graves. This was at length obviated, as will appear from the following note of Mr. Jones to Mr. Wise: "I have the honor to inform you that I have in my possession an excellent rifle, in good order, which is at the service of Mr. Graves." With every courtesy proper to the occasion rigidly observed, the rifle mentioned, "through the politeness of Dr. Duncan," was sent to Mr. Graves, and the hostile meeting occurred at the designated time, February 24, 1838.

From the report of a special committee of the House of Representatives at a later day appointed to investigate this affair, it appears that Mr. Graves was accompanied to the ground by his second, Mr. Wise, Mr. Crittenden, and Mr. Menifee, two of his colleagues, and Dr. Foltz his surgeon. The attendants of Mr. Cilley were his second, Mr. Jones, Representative Bynum of North Carolina, and Colonel Schoenberg, and Dr. Duncan as his surgeon. The Committee's report then continues in these words:

"Shortly after three o'clock P. M. the parties exchanged shots according to the terms of meeting. Mr. Cilley fired first before he had fully elevated his piece, and Mr. Graves one or two seconds afterwards. Both missed. It is to the credit of both the seconds and to the other gentlemen in attendance, than an earnest desire was then manifested to have the affair terminated, as will appear from the report already mentioned."

Mr. Jones now inquired of Mr. Wise whether Mr. Graves was satisfied, to which Mr. Wise replied: "These gentlemen have come here without animosity toward each other; they are fighting merely upon a point of honor. Cannot Mr. Cilley assign some reason for not receiving at Mr. Graves's hands Colonel Webb's communication, or make some disclaimer which will relive Mr. Graves from his position?" Mr. Jones replied: "While the challenge is impending, Mr. Cilley can make no explanation." Mr. Wise said: "The exchange of shots suspends the challenge, and the challenge is suspended for explanation." Mr. Jones thereupon went to Mr. Cilley, and after returning said:

"I am authorized by my friend Mr. Cilley to say, that in declining to receive the note from Mr. Graves purporting to come from Colonel Webb, he meant no disrespect to Mr. Graves because he entertained for him then as he does now, the highest respect and the most kind feeling; but that he declined to receive the note because he chose not to be drawn into any controversy with Colonel Webb."

The above not being satisfactory to Mr. Graves, and Mr. Cilley declining to make further concession, the challenge was renewed and the parties resumed their positions and again exchanged shots. Mr. Graves fired first, before he had fully elevated his piece; Mr. Cilley about two seconds afterwards. They both missed, although the witnesses then thought from the motions and appearance of Mr. Graves that he was hit. The latter immediately and peremptorily demanded another shot.

The challenge was here again, for the time, withdrawn and another unsuccessful attempt made by the seconds to effect an adjustment. In the light of what was so soon to follow, it is painful to read that all this came about and continued to the bloody end, because Mr. Cilley in substance refused to disclaim that his declination of Webb's challenge was for the reason that he did not consider him a gentleman. His repeated assurance that in doing so, he intended no disrespect to the bearer of the challenge, for whom he entertained the most kindly feelings, strangely enough to us was deemed insufficient.

The challenge being renewed, the parties, after due observance of the formalities as before, confronted each other for the third and last time. And now closes the official report: "the rifles being loaded, the parties resumed their stations, and fired the third time very near together. Mr. Cilley was shot through the body. He dropped his rifle, beckoned to some one near him, and said, 'I am shot,' put both his hands to his wound, fell, and in two or three minutes expired."

What a commentary all this upon "the code of honor"! Upon what appears the shadow of a technicality even, two young men of recognized ability, chosen representatives of the people, confronted each other in continued combat, until death closed the scene, and neither had the slightest feeling of hostility toward the other! This duel, so utterly groundless in its inception and bloody in its termination, was the last fought in Bladensburg. Intense excitement followed the death of the lamented Cilley and public sentiment was deeply aroused against the horrible custom of duelling. But the public sentiment that existed at the time must be taken into account before a too ready condemnation of one of the actors in this fearful tragedy. In announcing the death of Mr. Cilley to the Senate, Mr. Williams of Maine said: "In accepting the call, he did nothing more than he believed indispensable to avoid disgrace to himself, his family, and his constituents."

While the presiding officer of the Senate, a gentleman of small stature and advanced age called upon me and introduced himself as George W. Jones, former Senator from Iowa. I have rarely met a more interesting man. He was then ninety-two years of age, apparently in perfect health, and as active as if, for his exclusive benefit, the hands had been turned back three decades upon the dial. He had been a delegate from the Territory embracing the present States of Iowa and Wisconsin, in the twenty-fifth Congress, when the sessions of the House were held in the Old Hall. Upon the admission of Iowa as a State, he was chosen a Senator, a position he held by successive elections for many years. As delegate, he had been the associate of John Quincy Adams, and as a Senator the contemporary of Benton, Wright, Douglas, Cass, Seward, Preston, Clay, Calhoun, and Webster. He had personally known some of the men whose public life reached back to the establishment of the Government. He had taken part in the discussion of great questions that have left a deep impress upon history. As I listened to his description of the men I have named, and of the momentous events with which their names are associated, he seemed indeed the sole connecting link between the present and the long past.

But what interested me most deeply in the almost forgotten old man before me, was the fact that he was the second of the unfortunate Cilley upon the ill-fated day at Bladensburg. The conversation at length turned to that event, and strangely enough, he manifested no suggestion of embarrassment at its mention. He spoke in the highest terms of Mr. Cilley, as a gentleman of lofty character, of unfaltering courage, of rare gifts, and of splendid promise. It was evident that the passing years had not dimmed his memory of the tragic event, nor lessened his regret at the sad ending of an affair with which his own name is inseparably associated.

The first duel between men of prominence in this country, was that of Gwinett and McIntosh. The fact that one of the parties, Button Gwinett, was a signer of the Declaration of Independence gives it historic interest. He was one of the three delegates from Georgia in the second Continental Congress, and an earnest champion of independence. Six years before, he had emigrated from England, purchased a large tract of land, and devoted himself to agricultural pursuits. Less is known of him, probably, than of any of the signers of the Declaration.

In 1777, he became involved in a bitter personal quarrel with General McIntosh, an officer of the Revolution. Deeply offended at his conduct, Gwinett challenged him to mortal combat. They fought with pistols at a distance of twelve feet, and Gwinett was killed. He is buried at Augusta, Georgia, with his two colleagues in the Continental Congress.