CHAPTER CXXIV.

Of this individual the commander had previously reported a contrivance to make a mistake in doubling the allowed quantity of brandy carried out on the cruise, saying: "By accident, as it was thought at the time, but subsequent developments would rather go to prove by design, he (Wales) had contrived to make a mistake, and the supply of brandy was ordered from two different groceries; thus doubling the quantity intended to be taken." Of this double supply of brandy thus contrived to be taken out, the commander reports Wales for continual "stealing" of it—always adding that he was seduced into these "thefts" by Spencer. Being a temperance man, the commander eschews the use of this brandy on board, except furtively for the corruption of the crew by Spencer through the seduction of the steward: thus: "None of the brandy was used in the mess, and all of it is still on board except what was stolen by the steward at the request of Mr. Spencer, and drank by him, and those he endeavored to corrupt." By his own story this Wales comes under the terms of Lord Hale's idea of a "desperate villain"—a fellow who joins in a crime, gets the confidence of accomplices, then informs upon them, gets them hanged, and receives a reward. This was the conduct of Wales upon his own showing: and of such informers the pious and mild Lord Hale judicially declared his abhorrence—held their swearing unworthy of credit unless corroborated—said that they had done more mischief in getting innocent people punished than they had ever done good in bringing criminals to justice. Upon this view of his conduct, then, this Wales comes under the legal idea of a desperate villain. Legal presumptions would leave him in this category but the steward and the commander have not left it there. They have lifted a corner of the curtain which conceals an unmentionable transaction, to which these two persons were parties—which was heard of, but not understood by the crew—which was hugger-muggered into a settlement between them about the time of Spencer's arrest, though originating the preceding cruise—which neither would explain—which no one could name—and of which Heiskill, the intermediate between his steward and the commander, could know nothing except that it was of a "delicate nature," and that it had been settled between them. The first hint of this mysterious transaction was in the commander's report—in his proud commendation of this steward for a pursership in the United States Navy—and evidently to rehabilitate his witness, and to get a new lick at Spencer. The hint runs thus: "I had a trifling difficulty, not discreditable to his character, on the previous cruise to Porto Rico." On the trial the purser Heiskill was interrogated as to the nature of this difficulty between his subordinate and his superior. To the question—"Did he know any thing, and what, about a misunderstanding between the steward and the commander at Porto Rico?" he answered, "he knew there was a misunderstanding, which Wales told him was explained to the satisfaction of the commander." To the further question, "Was it of a delicate nature?" the answer was, "yes, sir." To the further question, as to the time when this misunderstanding was settled? the purser answered: "I do not know—some time since, I believe." Asked if it was before the arrest? he answers: "I think Mr. Wales spoke of this matter before the arrest." Pressed to tell, if it was shortly before the arrest, the purser would neither give a long nor a short time, but ignored the inquiry with the declaration, "I won't pretend to fix upon a time." Wales himself interrogated before the court, as to the fact of this misunderstanding, and also as to what it was? admitted the fact, but refused its disclosure. His answer, as it stands in the official report of the trial is: "I had a difficulty, but decline to explain it." And the obliging court submitted to the contempt of this answer.

Left without information in a case so mysterious, and denied explanation from those who could give it, history can only deal with the facts as known, and with the inferences fairlyresulting from them; and, therefore, can only say, that there was an old affair between the commander and the purser's steward, originating in a previous voyage, and settled in this one, and settled before the arrest of midshipman Spencer; and secondly, that the affair was of so delicate a nature as to avoid explanation from either party. Now the word "delicate" in this connection, implies something which cannot be discussed without danger—something which will not bear handling, or exposure—and in which silence and reserve are the only escapes from a detection worse than any suspicion. And thus stands before history the informer upon the young Spencer—the thief of brandies, the desperate villain according to Lord Hale's classification, and the culprit of unmentionable crime, according to his own implied admission. Yet this man is recommended for a pursership in the United States navy, or a handsome pecuniary reward; while any court in Christendom would have committed him for perjury, on his own showing, in his swearing before the court-martial.

Sergeant Michael H. Garty is then brought forward; thus:

"Of the conduct of Sergeant Michael H. Garty (of the marines) I will only say it was worthy of the noble corps to which he has the honor to belong. Confined to his hammock by a malady which threatened to be dangerous, at the moment when the conspiracy was discovered, he rose upon his feet a well man. Throughout the whole period, from the day of Mr. Spencer's arrest to the day after our arrival, and until the removal of the mutineers, his conduct was calm, steady, and soldierlike. But when his duty was done, and health was no longer indispensable to its performance, his malady returned upon him, and he is still in his hammock. In view of this fine conduct, I respectfully recommend that Sergeant Garty be promoted to a second lieutenancy in the marine corps. Should I pass without dishonor through the ordeal which probably awaits me, and attain in due time to the command of a vessel entitled to a marine officer, I ask no better fortune than to have the services of Sergeant Garty in that capacity."

Now here is something like a miracle. A bedridden man to rise up a well man the moment his country needed his services, and to remain a well man to the last moment those services required, and then to fall down a bedridden man again. Such a miracle implies a divine interposition which could only be bottomed on a full knowledge of the intended crime, and a special care to prevent it. It is quite improbable in itself, and its verity entirely marred by answers of this sergeant to certain questions before the court-martial. Thus: "When were you on the sick list in the last cruise?" Answer: "I was twice on the list: the last time about two days." Now these two days must be that hammock confinement from the return of the malady which immediately ensued on the removal of the mutineers (the twelve from the Somers to the North Carolina guardship at New York), and which seemed as chronic and permanent as it was before the arrest. Questioned further, whether he "remained in his hammock the evening of Spencer's arrest?" the answer is, "Yes, sir: I was in and out of it all that night." So that the rising up a well man does not seem to have been so instantaneous as the commander's report would imply. The sergeant gives no account of this malady which confined him to his hammock in the marvellous way the commander reports. He never mentioned it until it was dragged out of him on cross-examination. He was on the sick list. That does not imply bedridden. Men are put on the sick list for a slight indisposition: in fact, to save them from sickness. Truth is, this Garty seems to have been one of the class of which every service contains some specimens—scamps who have a pain, and get on the sick list when duty runs hard; and who have no pain, and get on the well list, as soon as there is something pleasant to do. In this case the sergeant seems to have had a pleasant occupation from the alacrity with which he fulfilled it, and from the happy relief which it procured him from his malady as long as it lasted. That occupation was superintendent of the bagging business. It was he who attended to the wearing and fitting of the bags—seeing that they were punctually put on when a prisoner was made, tightly tied over the head of nights, and snugly drawn round the neck during the day. To this was added eavesdropping and delating, and swearing before all the courts, and in this style before the council of officers: "Thinks there are some persons at large that would voluntarily assist the prisoners if they had an opportunity."—"Thinks if the prisoners were at large the brig would certainly be in great danger."—"Thinks there are persons adrift yet, who, if opportunity offered,would rescue the prisoners."—"Thinks the vessel would be safer if Cromwell, Spencer, and Small were put to death."—"Thinks Cromwell a desperate fellow."—"Thinks their object (that of Cromwell and Spencer), in taking slavers, would be to convert them to their own use, and not to suppress the slave trade." All this was swearing like a sensible witness, who knew what was wanted, and would furnish it. It covered all the desired points. More arrests were wanted at that time to justify the hanging of the prisoners on hand: he thinks more arrests ought to be made. The fear of a rescue was wanted: he thinks there will be a rescue attempted. The execution of the prisoners is wanted: he thinks the vessel would be safer if they were all three put to death. And it was for these noble services—bagging prisoners, eavesdropping, delating, swearing to what was wanted—that this sergeant had his marvellous rise-up from a hammock, and was now recommended for an officer of marines. History repulses the marvel which the commander reports. A kind Providence may interpose for the safety of men and ships, but not through an agent who is to bag and suffocate innocent men—to eaves-drop and delate—to swear in all places, and just what was wanted—all by thoughts, and without any thing to bottom a thought upon. Certainly this Sergeant Garty, from his stomach for swearing, must have something in common, besides nativity, with Mr. Jemmy O'Brien; and, from his alacrity and diligence in taking care of prisoners, would seem to have come from the school of the famous Major Sirr, of Irish rebellion memory.

Mr. O. H. Perry, the commander's clerk and nephew, the same whose blunder in giving the order about the mast, occasioned it to break; and, in breaking, to become a sign of the plotting, mutiny, and piracy; and the same that held the watch to mark the ten minutes that Spencer was to live: this young gentleman was not forgotten, but came in liberally for praise and spoil—the spoil of the young man whose messmate he had been, against whom he had testified, and whose minutes he had counted, and proclaimed when out:

"If I shall be deemed by the Navy Department to have had any merit in preserving the Somers from those treasonable toils by which she had been surrounded since and before her departure from the United States, I respectfully request that it may accrue without reservation for my nephew O. H. Perry, now clerk on board the Somers, and that his name may be placed on the register in the name left vacant by the treason of Mr. Spencer. I think, under the peculiar circumstances of the case, an act of Congress, if necessary, might be obtained to authorize the appointment."

All these recommendations for reward and promotion, bespeak an obliquity of mental vision, equivalent to an aberration of the mind; and this last one, obliquitous as any, superadds an extinction of the moral sense in demanding the spoil of the slain for the reward of a nephew who had promoted the death of which he was claiming the benefit. The request was revolting! and, what is equally revolting, it was granted. But worse still. An act of Congress at that time forbid the appointment of more midshipmen, of which there were then too many, unless to fill vacancies: hence the request of the commander, that his nephew's name may take the place in the Navy Register of the name left vacant by the "treason" of Mr. Spencer!

The commander, through all his witnesses, had multiplied proofs on the attempts of Spencer to corrupt the crew by largesses lavished upon them—such as tobacco, segars, nuts, sixpences thrown among the boys, and two bank-notes given to Cromwell on the coast of Africa to send home to his wife before the bank failed. Now what were the temptations on the other side? What the inducements to the witnesses and actors in this foul business to swear up to the mark which Mackenzie's acquittal and their promotion required? The remarks of Mr. Fenimore Cooper, the historian, here present themselves as those of an experienced man speaking with knowledge of the subject, and acquaintance with human nature:

"While on this point we will show the extent of the temptations that were thus inconsiderately placed before the minds of these men—what preferment they had reason to hope would be accorded to them should Mackenzie's conduct be approved,viz.: Garty, from the ranks, to be an officer, with twenty-five dollars per month, and fifty cents per diem rations: and the prospect of promotion. Wales, from purser's steward, at eighteen dollars a month, to quarter-deck rank, and fifteen hundred dollars per annum. Browning, Collins, and Stewart, petty officers, at nineteen dollars a month, to be boatswains, with seven hundred dollars per annum. King, Anderson, and Rogers, pettyofficers, at nineteen dollars a month, to be gunners, at seven hundred dollars per annum. Dickinson, petty officer, at nineteen dollars a month, to be carpenter, with seven hundred dollars per annum."

Such was the list of temptations placed before the witnesses by Commander Mackenzie, and which it is not in human nature to suppose were without their influence on most of the persons to whom they were addressed.

The commander could not close his list of recommendations for reward without saying something of himself. He asked for nothing specifically, but expected approbation, and looked forward to regular promotion, while gratified at the promotions which his subordinates should receive, and which would redound to his own honor. He did not ask for a court of inquiry, or a court-martial, but seemed to apprehend, and to deprecate them. The Secretary of the Navy immediately ordered a court of inquiry—a court of three officers to report upon the facts of the case, and to give their opinion. There was no propriety in this proceeding. The facts were admitted, and the law fixed their character. Three prisoners had been hanged without trial, and the law holds that to be murder until reduced by a judicial trial to a lower degree of offence—to manslaughter, excusable, or justifiable homicide. The finding of the court was strongly in favor of the commander; and unless this finding and opinion were disapproved by the President, no further military proceeding should be had—no court-martial ordered—the object of the inquiry being to ascertain whether there was necessity for one. The necessity being negatived, and that opinion approved by the President, there was no military rule of action which could go on to a court-martial: to the general astonishment such a court was immediately ordered—and assembled with such precipitation that the judge advocate was in no condition to go on with the trial; and, up to the third day of its sitting, was without the means of proceeding with the prosecution; and for his justification in not being able to go on, and in asking some delay, the judge advocate, Wm. H. Norris, Esq., of Baltimore, submitted to the court this statement in writing:

"The judge advocate states to the court that he has not been furnished by the department, as yet, with any list of witnesses on the part of the government: that he has had no opportunity of conversing with any of the witnesses, of whose names he is even entirely ignorant except by rumor in respect to a few of them; and that, therefore, he would need time to prepare the case by conversation with the officers and crew of the brig Somers, before he can commence the case on the part of the government. The judge advocate has issued two subpœnas,duces tecum, for the record in the case of the court of inquiry into the alleged mutiny, which have not yet been returned, and by which record he could have been notified of the witnesses and facts to constitute the case of the government."

The judge advocate then begged a delay, which was granted, until eleven o'clock the next day. Here then was a precipitation, unheard of in judicial proceedings, and wholly incompatible with the idea of any real prosecution. The cause of this precipitancy becomes a matter of public inquiry, as the public interest requires the administration of justice to be fair and impartial. The cause of it then was this: The widow of Cromwell, to whom he had sent his last dying message, that he was innocent, undertook to have Mackenzie prosecuted before the civil tribunals for the murder of her husband. She made three attempts, all in vain. One judge, to whom an application for a warrant was made, declined to grant it, on the ground that he was too much occupied with other matters to attend to that case—giving a written answer to that effect. A commissioner of the United States, appointed to issue warrants in all criminal cases, refused one in this case, because, as he alleged, he had no authority to act in a military case. The attempt was then made in the United States district court, New York, to get the Grand Jury to find an indictment: the court instructed the jury that it was not competent for a civil tribunal to interfere with matters which were depending before a naval tribunal: in consequence of which instruction the bill was ignored. Upon this instruction of the court the historian, Cooper, well remarks: "That after examining the subject at some length, we are of opinion that the case belonged exclusively to the civil tribunals." Here, then, is the reason why Mackenzie was run so precipitately before the court-martial. It was to shelter him by an acquittal there: and so apprehensive was he of being got hold of by some civil tribunal, before the court-martial could be organized, that he passed the interveningdays between the two courts "in a bailiwick where the ordinary criminal process could not reach him."—(Cooper's Review of the Trial.) When the trial actually came on, the judge advocate was about as bad off as he was the first day. He had a list of witnesses. They were Mackenzie's officers—and refused to converse with him on the nature of their testimony. He stated their refusal to the court—declared himself without knowledge to conduct the case—and likened himself to a new comer in a house, having a bunch of keys given to him, without information of the lock to which each belonged—so that he must try every lock with every key before he could find out the right one.

The hurried assemblage of the court being shown, its composition becomes a fair subject of inquiry. The record shows that three officers were excused from serving on their own application after being detailed as members of the court; and the information of the day made known that another was excused before he was officially detailed. The same history of the day informs that these four avoided the service because they had opinions against the accused. That was all right in them. Mackenzie was entitled to an impartial trial, although he allowed his victims no trial at all. But how was it on the other side? any one excused there for opinions in favor of the accused? None! and history said there were members on the court strongly in favor of him—as the proceedings on the trial too visibly prove. Engaged in the case without a knowledge of it, the judge advocate confined himself to the testimony of one witness, merely proving the hanging without trial; and then left the field to the accused. It was occupied in great force—a great number of witnesses, all the reports of Mackenzie himself, all the statements before the council of officers—all sorts of illegal, irrelevant, impertinent or frivolous testimony—every thing that could be found against the dead since their death, in addition to all before—assumption or assertion of any fact or inference wanted—questions put not only leading to the answer wanted, but affirming the fact wanted—all the persons served as witnesses who had been agents or instruments in the murders—Mackenzie himself submitting his own statements before the court: such was the trial! and the issue was conformable to such a farrago of illegalities, absurdities, frivolities, impertinences and wickednesses. He was acquitted; but in the lowest form of acquittal known to court-martial proceedings. "Not proven," was the equivocal mode of saying "not guilty:" three members of the court were in favor of conviction for murder. The finding was barely permitted to stand by the President. To approve, or disprove court-martial proceedings is the regular course: the President did neither. The official promulgation of the proceedings wound up with this unusual and equivocal sanction: "As these charges involved the life of the accused, and as the finding is in his favor, he is entitled to the benefit of it, as in the analogous case of a verdict of not guilty before a civil court, and there is no power which can constitutionally deprive him of that benefit. The finding, therefore, is simplyconfirmed, and carried into effect without any expression of approbation or disapprobation on the part of the President: no such expression being necessary." No acquittal could be of lower order, or less honorable. The trial continued two months; and that long time was chiefly monopolized by the defence, which became in fact a trial of the dead—who, having no trial while alive, had an ample one of sixty days after their deaths. Of course they were convicted—the dead and the absent being always in the wrong. At the commencement of the trial, two eminent counsel of New York—Messrs. Benjamin F. Butler and Charles O'Connor, Esqs.,—applied to the court at the instance of the father of the young Spencer to be allowed to sit by, and put questions approved by the court; and offer suggestions and comments on the testimony when it was concluded. This request was entered on the minutes, and refused. So that at the longpost mortemtrial which was given to the boy after his death, the father was not allowed to ask one question in favor of his son.

And here two remarks require to be made—first, as to that faithful promise of the Commander Mackenzie to send to his parents the dying message of the young Spencer: not a word was ever sent! all was sent to the Navy Department and the newspapers! and the "faithful promise," and the moving appeal to the "feelings of nature," turn out to have been a mere device to get a chance to make a report to the Secretary of the Navy of confessions to justify the previous condemnation and the pre-determined hanging. Secondly: That the Secretarydespatched a man-of-war immediately on the return of Mackenzie to the Isle of Pines, to capture the confederate pirates (according to Wales's testimony), who were waiting there for the young Spencer and the Somers. A bootless errand. The island was found, and the pines; but no pirates! nor news of any for near twenty years! Thus failed the indispensable point in the whole piratical plot: but without balking in the least degree the raging current of universal belief.

The trial of Mackenzie being over, and he acquitted, the trial of the rest of the implicated crew—the twelve mutineers in irons—would naturally come on; and the court remained in session for that purpose. The Secretary of the Navy had written to the judge advocate to proceed against such of them as he thought proper: the judge advocate referred that question to Mackenzie, giving him the option to choose any one he pleased to carry on the prosecutions. He chose Theodore Sedgwick, Esq., who had been his own counsel on his trial. Mackenzie was acquitted on the 28th of March: the court remained in session until the 1st of April: the judge advocate heard nothing from Mackenzie with respect to the prosecutions. On that day Mackenzie not being present, he was sent for. He was not to be found! and the provost marshal ascertained that he had gone to his residence in the country, thirty miles off. This was an abandonment of the prosecutions, and in a very unmilitary way—by running away from them, and saying nothing to any body. The court was then dissolved—the prisoners released—and the innocence of the twelve stood confessed by the recreancy of their fugitive prosecutor. It was a confession of the innocence of Spencer, Small, and Cromwell; for he was tried for the three murders together. The trial of Mackenzie had been their acquittal in the eyes of persons accustomed to analyze evidence, and to detect perjuries in made-up stories. But the masses could form no such analysis. With them the confessions were conclusive, though invalidated by contradictions, and obtained, if obtained at all, under a refinement of terror and oppression which has no parallel on the deck of a pirate. When has such a machinery of terror been contrived to shock and torture a helpless victim? Sudden annunciation of death in the midst of preparations to take life: ten minutes allowed to live, and these ten minutes taken up with interruptions. An imp of darkness in the shape of a naval officer in full uniform, squat down at his side, writing and whispering; and evidently making out a tale which was to murder the character in order to justify the murder of the body. Commander Mackenzie had once lived a year in Spain, and wrote a book upon its manners and customs, as a "Young American." He must have read of the manner in which confessions were obtained in the dungeons of the Inquisition. If he had, he showed himself an apt scholar; if not, he showed a genius for the business from which the familiars of the Holy Office might have taken instruction.

Spencer's real design was clearly deducible even from the tenors of the vile swearing against him. He meant to quit the navy when he returned to New York, obtain a vessel in some way, and go to the northwest coast of America—to lead some wild life there; but not piratical, as there is neither prey nor shelter for pirates in that quarter. This he was often saying to the crew, and to this his list of names referred—mixed up with foolish and even vicious talk about piracy. His first and his last answer was the same—that it was all a joke. The answer of Small was the same when he was arrested; and it was well brought out by the judge advocate in incessant questions during the two months' trial, that there was not a single soul of the crew, except Wales, that ever heard Spencer mention one word about mutiny! and not one, inclusive of Wales, that ever heard one man of the vessel speak of a rescue of the prisoners. Remaining long in command of the vessel as Mackenzie did, and with all his power to punish or reward, and allowed as he was to bring forward all that he was able to find since the deaths of the men, yet he could not find one man to swear to these essential points; so that in a crew steeped in mutiny, there was not a soul that had heard of it! in a crew determined upon a rescue of prisoners, there was not one that ever heard the word pronounced. The state of the brig, after the arrests, was that of crazy cowardice and insane suspicion on the part of the officers—of alarm and consternation on the part of the crew. Armed with revolvers, cutlasses and swords, the officers prowled through the vessel, ready to shoot any one that gave them a fright—the weapon generally cocked for instant work. Besides the officers, low wretches, as Wales and Garty, werearmed in the same way, with the same summary power over the lives and deaths of the crew. The vessel was turned into a laboratory of spies, informers, eavesdroppers and delators. Every word, look, sign, movement, on the part of the crew, was equally a proof of guilt. If the men were quick about their duty, it was to cover up their guilt: if slow, it was to defy the officers. If they talked loud, it was insolence: if low, it was plotting. If collected in knots, it was to be ready to make a rush at the vessel: if keeping single and silent, it was because, knowing their guilt, they feigned aversion to escape suspicion. Belief was all that was wanted from any delator. Belief, without a circumstance to found it upon, and even contrary to circumstances, was accepted as full legal evidence. Arrests were multiplied, to excite terror, and to justify murder. The awe-stricken crew, consisting four-fifths of apprentice boys, was paralyzed into dead silence and abject submission. Every arrest was made without a murmur. The prisoners were ironed and bagged as mere animals. No one could show pity, much less friendship. No one could extend a comfort, much less give assistance. Armed sentries stood over them, day and night, to shoot both parties for the slightest sign of intelligence—and always to shoot the prisoner first. What Paris was in the last days of the Reign of Terror, the United States brig Somers was during the terrible week from the arrest to the hanging of Spencer.

Analogous to the case of Commander Mackenzie was that of Lieutenant Colonel Wall, of the British service, Governor of Goree on the coast of Africa—the circumstances quite parallel, and where they differ, the difference in favor of Wall—but the conclusion widely different. Governor Wall fancied there was a mutiny in the garrison, the one half (of 150) engaged in it, and one Armstrong and two others, leaders in it. He ordered the "long roll" to be beat—which brings the men, without arms, into line on the parade. He conversed a few minutes with the officers, out of hearing of the men, then ordered the line to form circle, a cannon to be placed in the middle of it, the three men tied upon it, and receive 800 blows each with an inch thick rope. It was not his intent to kill them, and the surgeon of the garrison, as in all cases of severe punishment, was ordered to attend, and observe it: which he did, saying nothing: the three men died within a week. This was in the year 1782. Wall came home—was arrested (by the civil authority), broke custody and fled—was gone twenty years, and seized again by the civil authority on his return to England. The trial took place at the Old Bailey, and the prisoner easily proved up a complete case of mutiny, seventy or eighty men, assembled in open day before the governor's quarters, defying authority, clamoring for supposed rights, and cursing and damning. The full case was sworn up, and by many witnesses; but the attorney-general, Sir Edward Law (afterwards Lord Ellenborough), and the solicitor-general, Mr. Percival (afterwards First Lord of the Treasury and Chancellor of the Exchequer), easily took the made-up stories to pieces, and left the governor nakedly exposed, a false accuser of the dead, after having been the foul murderer of the innocent. It was to no purpose that he plead, that the punishment was not intended to kill: it was answered that it was sufficient that it was likely to kill, and did kill. To no purpose that he proved by the surgeon that he stood by, as the regulations required, to judge the punishment, and said nothing: the eminent counsel proved upon him, out of his own mouth, that he was a young booby, too silly to know the difference between a cat-o'-nine-tails, which cut the skin, and an inch rope, which bruised to the vitals. The Lord Chief Baron McDonald, charged the jury that if there was no mutiny, it was murder; and if there was mutiny, and no trial, it was murder. On this latter point, he said to the jury: "If you are of opinion that there was a mutiny, you are then to consider the degree of it, and whether there was as much attention paid to the interest of the person accused as the circumstances of the case would admit, by properly advising him, and giving him an opportunity of justifying himself if he could." The governor was only tried in one case, found guilty, hanged within eight days, and his body, like that of any other murderer, delivered up to the surgeons for dissection—the King on application, first for pardon, then for longer respite, and last for remission of the anatomization, refusing any favor, upon the ground that it was worse than any common murder—being done by a man in authority, far from the eye of the government, on helpless people subject to his power, and whom he was bound to protect, andto defend from oppression. It is a case—a common one in England since the judges became independent of the crown—which does honor to British administration of justice: and, if any one wishes to view the extremes of judicial exhibitions—legality, regularity, impartiality, knowledge of the law, promptitude on one hand, and the reverse of it all on the other—let them look at the proceedings of the one-day trial of Governor Wall before a British civil court, and the two months' trial of Commander Mackenzie before an American naval court-martial. But the comparison would not be entirely fair. Courts-martial, both of army and navy, since the trial of Admiral Byng in England to Commodore Porter, Commander Mackenzie, and Lieutenant-colonel Frémont in the United States, have been machines in the hands of the government (where it took an interest in the event), to acquit, or convict: and has rarely disappointed the intention. Cooper proposes, in view of the unfitness of the military courts for judicial investigation, that they be stripped of all jurisdiction in such cases: and his opinion strongly addresses itself to the legislative authority.

Commander Mackenzie had been acquitted by the authorities: he had been complimented by a body of eminent merchants: he had been applauded by the press: he had been encomiastically reviewed in a high literary periodical. The loud public voice was for him: but there was a small inward monitor, whose still and sinister whisperings went cutting through the soul. The acquitted and applauded man withdrew to a lonely retreat, oppressed with gloom and melancholly, visible only to a few, and was only roused from his depression to give signs of a diseased mind. It was five years after the event, and during the war with Mexico. The administration had conceived the idea of procuring peace through the instrumentality of Santa Anna—then an exile at Havana; and who was to be returned to his country upon some arrangement of the American government. This writer going to see the President (Mr. Polk) some day about this time, mentioned to him a visit from Commander Slidell Mackenzie to this exiled chief. The President was startled, and asked how this came to be known to me. I told him I read it in the Spanish newspapers. He said it was all a profound secret, confined to his cabinet. The case was this: a secret mission to Santa Anna was resolved upon: and the facile Mr. Buchanan, Secretary of State, dominated by the representative Slidell (brother to the commander), accepted this brother for the place. Now the views of the two parties were diametrically opposite. One wanted secrecy—the other notoriety. Restoration of Santa Anna to his country, upon an agreement, and without being seen in the transaction, was the object of the government; and that required secrecy: removal from under a cloud, restoration to public view, rehabilitation by some mark of public distinction, was the object of the Slidells; and that required notoriety: and the game being in their hands, they played it accordingly. Arriving at Havana, the secret minister put on the full uniform of an American naval officer, entered an openvolante, and driving through the principal streets at high noon, proceeded to the suburban residence of the exiled dictator. Admitted to a private interview (for he spoke Spanish, learnt in Spain), the plumed and decorated officer made known his secret business. Santa Anna was amazed, but not disconcerted. He saw the folly and the danger of the proceeding, eschewed blunt overture, and got rid of his queer visitor in the shortest time, and the civilest phrases which Spanish decorum would admit. The repelled minister gone, Santa Anna called back his secretary, exclaiming as he entered—"Porque el Presidente me ha enviado este tonto?" (Why has the President sent me this fool?) It was not until afterwards, and through the instrumentality of a sounder head, that the mode of the dictator's return was arranged: and the folly which Mackenzie exhibited on this occasion was of a piece with his crazy and preposterous conceptions on board the Somers.

Fourteen years have elapsed since this tragedy of the Somers. The chief in that black and bloody drama (unless Wales is to be considered the master-spirit, and the commander and lieutenant only his instruments) has gone to his long account. Some others, concerned with him, have passed away. The vessel itself, bearing a name illustrious in the navy annals, has gone to the bottom of the sea—foundering—and going down with all on board; the circling waves closing over the heads of the doomed mass, and hiding all from the light of Heaven before they were dead. And the mind of seamen, prone to belief in portents, prodigies,signs and judgments, refer the hapless fate of the vessel to the innocent blood which had been shed upon her.

History feels it to be a debt of duty to examine this transaction to the bottom, and to judge it closely—not with a view to affect individuals, but to relieve national character from a foul imputation. It was the crime of individuals: it was made national. The protection of the government, the lenity of the court, the evasions of the judiciary, and the general approving voice, made a nation's offence out of the conduct of some individuals, and brought reproach upon the American name. All Christendom recoiled with horror from the atrocious deed: all friends to America beheld with grief and amazement the national assumption of such a crime. Cotemporary with the event, and its close observer, the writer of this View finds confirmed now, upon the fullest examination, the severe judgment which he formed upon it at the time.

The naval historian, Fenimore Cooper (who himself had been a naval officer), wrote a clear exposure of all the delusion, falsehood, and wickedness of this imputed mutiny, and of the mockery of the court-martial trial of Mackenzie: but unavailing in the then condition of the public mind, and impotent against the vast machinery of the public press which was brought to bear on the dead. From that publication, and the official record of the trial, this view of the transaction is made up.

Mr. Tyler's cabinet, as adopted from President Harrison, in April 1841, had broken up, as before related, in September of the same year—Mr. Webster having been prevailed upon to remain, although he had agreed to go out with the rest, and his friends thought he should have done so. His remaining was an object of the greatest importance with Mr. Tyler, abandoned by all the rest, and for such reasons as they published. He had remained with Mr. Tyler until the spring of the year 1843, when the progress of the Texas annexation scheme, carried on privately, not to say clandestinely, had reached a point to take an official form, and to become the subject of government negotiation, though still secret. Mr. Webster, Secretary of State, was an obstacle to that negotiation. He could not even be trusted with the secret, much less with the conduct of the negotiations. How to get rid of him was a question of some delicacy. Abrupt dismission would have revolted his friends. Voluntary resignation was not to be expected, for he liked the place of Secretary of State, and had remained in it against the wishes of his friends. Still he must be got rid of. A middle course was fallen upon—the same which had been practised with others in 1841—that of compelling a resignation. Mr. Tyler became reserved and indifferent to him. Mr. Gilmer and Mr. Upshur, with whom he had but few affinities, took but little pains to conceal their distaste to him. It was evident to him when the cabinet met, that he was one too many; and reserve and distrust was visible both in the President and the Virginia part of his cabinet. Mr. Webster felt it, and named it to some friends. They said, resign! He did so; and the resignation was accepted with an alacrity which showed that it was waited for. Mr. Upshur took his place, and quickly the Texas negotiation became official, though still private; and in this appointment, and immediate opening of the Texas negotiation, stood confessed, the true reason for getting rid of Mr. Webster.

He was among the few men of fame that I have seen, that aggrandized on the approach—that having the reputation of a great man, became greater, as he was more closely examined. There was every thing about him to impress the beholder favorably and grandly—in stature "a head and shoulders" above the common race of men, justly proportioned, open countenance, manly features, ready and impressive conversation, frank and cordial manners. I saw him for the first time in 1820, when he was a member of Mr. Monroe's cabinet—when the array ofeminent men was thick—when historic names of the expiring generation were still on the public theatre, and many of the new generation (to become historic) were entering upon it: and he seemed to compare favorably with the foremost. And that was the judgment of others. For a long time he was deferred to generally, by public opinion, as the first of the new men who were to become President. Mr. Monroe, the last of the revolutionary stock, was passing off: Mr. Crawford was his assumed successor. Had the election come on one term sooner, he would have been the selected man: but his very eminence became fatal to him. He was formidable to all the candidates, and all combined against him. He was pulled down in 1824; but at an age, with an energy, a will, a talent and force of character, which would have brought him up within a few years, if a foe more potent than political combinations had not fallen upon him: he was struck with paralysis before the canvass was over, but still received an honorable vote, and among such competitors as Jackson, Adams, and Clay. But his career was closed as a national man, and State appointments only attended him during the remaining years of his life.

Mr. Crawford served in the Senate during Mr. Madison's administration, and was the conspicuous mark in that body, then pre-eminent for its able men. He had a copious, ready and powerful elocution—spoke forcibly and to the point—was the Ajax of the administration, and as such, had constantly on his hands the splendid array of federal gentlemen who then held divided empire in the Senate chamber. Senatorial debate was of high order then—a rivalship of courtesy, as well as of talent: and the feeling of respect for him was not less in the embattled phalanx of opposition, than in the admiring ranks of his own party. He was invaluable in the Senate, but the state of Europe—then convulsed with the approaching downfall of the Great Emperor—our own war with Great Britain, and the uncertainty of the new combinations which might be formed—all required a man of head and nerve—of mind and will, to represent the United States at the French Court: and Mr. Crawford was selected for the arduous post. He told Mr. Madison that the Senate would be lost if he left it (and it was); but a proper representative in France in that critical juncture of Europe, was an overpowering consideration—and he went. Great events took place while he was there. The Great Emperor fell: the Bourbons came up, and fell. The Emperor reappeared, and fell again. But the interests of the United States were kept unentangled in European politics; and the American minister was the only one that could remain at his post in all these sudden changes. At the marvellous return from Elba, he was the sole foreign representative remaining in Paris. Personating the neutrality of his country with decorum and firmness, he succeeded in commanding the respect of all, giving offence to none. From this high critical post he was called by Mr. Monroe, at his first election, to be Secretary of the Treasury; and, by public expectation, was marked for the presidency. There was a desire to take him up at the close of Mr. Monroe's first term; but a generous and honorable feeling would not allow him to become the competitor of his friend; and before the second term was out, the combinations had become too strong for him. He was the last candidate nominated by a Congress caucus, then fallen into great disrepute, but immeasurably preferable, as an organ of public opinion, to the conventions of the present day. He was the dauntless foe of nullification; and, while he lived, that heresy could not root in the patriotic soil of Georgia.

Senate.

Maine.—John Fairfield, George Evans.

New Hampshire.—Levi Woodbury, Charles G. Atherton.

Vermont.—Samuel Phelps, William C. Upham.

Massachusetts.—Rufus Choate, Isaac C. Bates.

Rhode Island.—William Sprague, James F. Simmons.

Connecticut.—J. W. Huntington, John M. Niles.

New York.—N. P. Tallmadge, Silas Wright.

New Jersey.—W. L. Dayton, Jacob W. Miller.

Pennsylvania.—D. W. Sturgeon, James Buchanan.

Delaware.—R. H. Bayard, Thomas Clayton.

Maryland.—William D. Merrick, Reverdy Johnson.

Virginia.—Wm. C. Rives, Wm. S. Archer.

North Carolina.—Willie P. Mangum, Wm. H. Haywood, jr.

South Carolina.—Daniel E. Hugér, George McDuffie.

Georgia.—John M. Berrien, Walter T. Colquitt.

Alabama.—William R. King, Arthur P. Bagby.

Mississippi.—John Henderson, Robert J. Walker.

Louisiana.—Alexander Barrow, Alexander Porter.

Tennessee.—E. H. Foster, Spencer Jarnagan.

Kentucky.—John T. Morehead, John J. Crittenden.

Ohio.—Benjamin Tappan, William Allen.

Indiana.—Albert S. White, Ed. A. Hannegan.

Illinois.—James Semple, Sidney Breese.

Missouri.—T. H. Benton, D. R. Atchison.

Arkansas.—Wm. S. Fulton, A. H. Sevier.

Michigan.—A. S. Porter, W. Woodbridge.

House of Representatives.

Maine.—Joshua Herrick, Robert P. Dunlap, Luther Severance, Hannibal Hamlin.

Massachusetts.—Robert C. Winthrop, Daniel P. King, William Parmenter, Charles Hudson, (Vacancy), John Quincy Adams, Henry Williams, Joseph Grinnel.

New Hampshire.—Edmund Burke, John R. Reding, John P. Hale, Moses Norris, jr.

Rhode Island.—Henry Y. Cranston, Elisha R. Potter.

Connecticut.—Thomas H. Seymour, John Stewart, George S. Catlin, Samuel Simons.

Vermont.—Solomon Foot, Jacob Collamer, George P. Marsh, Paul Dillingham, jr.

New York.—Selah B. Strong, Henry C. Murphy, J. Philips Phœnix, William B. Maclay, Moses G. Leonard, Hamilton Fish, Jos. H. Anderson, R. D. Davis, Jas. G. Clinton, Jeremiah Russell, Zadoc Pratt, David L. Seymour, Daniel D. Barnard, Wm. G. Hunter, Lemuel Stetson, Chesselden Ellis, Charles S. Benton, Preston King, Orville Hungerford, Samuel Beardsley, J. E. Cary, S. M. Purdy, Orville Robinson, Horace Wheaton, George Rathbun, Amasa Dana, Byram Green, Thos. J. Patterson, Charles H. Carroll, Wm. S. Hubbell, Asher Tyler, Wm. A. Moseley, Albert Smith, Washington Hunt.

New Jersey.—Lucius Q. C. Elmer, George Sykes, Isaac G. Farlee, Littleton Kirkpatrick, Wm. Wright.

Pennsylvania.—Edward J. Morris, Joseph R. Ingersoll, John T. Smith, Charles J. Ingersoll, Jacob S. Yost, Michael H. Jenks, Abrah. R. McIlvaine, Henry Nes, James Black, James Irvin, Andrew Stewart, Henry D. Foster, Jeremiah Brown, John Ritter, Rich. Brodhead, jr., Benj. A. Bidlack, Almond H. Read, Henry Frick, Alexander Ramsey, John Dickey, William Wilkins, Samuel Hays, Charles M. Read, Joseph Buffington.

Delaware.—George B. Rodney.

Maryland.—J. M. S. Causin, F. Brengle, J. Withered, J. P. Kennedy, Dr. Preston, Thomas A. Spence.

Virginia.—Archibald Atkinson, Geo. C. Dromgoole, Walter Coles, Edmund Hubard, Thomas W. Gilmer, John W. Jones, Henry A. Wise, Willoughby Newton, Samuel Chilton, William F. Lucas, William Taylor, A. A. Chapman, Geo. W. Hopkins, Geo. W. Summers, Lewis Steenrod.

North Carolina.—Thomas J. Clingman, D. M. Barringer, David S. Reid, Edmund Deberry, R. M. Saunders, James J. McKay, J. R. Daniel, A. H. Arrington, Kenneth Rayner.

South Carolina.—James A. Black, Richard F. Simpson, Joseph A. Woodward, John Campbell, Artemas Burt, Isaac E. Holmes, R. Barnwell Rhett.

Georgia.—E. J. Black, H. A. Haralson, J. H. Lumpkin, Howell Cobb, Wm. H. Stiles, Alexander H. Stevens, A. H. Chappell.

Kentucky.—Linn Boyd, Willis Green, Henry Grider, George A. Caldwell, James Stone, John White, William P. Thompson, Garrett Davis, Richard French, J. W. Tibbatts.

Tennessee.—Andrew Johnson, William T. Senter, Julius W. Blackwell, Alvan Cullom, George W. Jones, Aaron V. Brown, David W. Dickinson, James H. Peyton, Cave Johnson, John B. Ashe, Milton Brown.

Ohio.—Alexander Duncan, John B. Weller, Robt. C. Schenck, Joseph Vance, Emery D. Potter, Joseph J. McDowell, John I. Vanmeter, Elias Florence, Heman A. Moore, Jacob Brinkerhoff, Samuel F. Vinton, Perley B. Johnson, Alexander Harper, Joseph Morris, James Mathews, Wm. C. McCauslin, Ezra Dean, Daniel R. Tilden, Joshua R. Giddings, H. R. Brinkerhoff.

Louisiana.—John Slidell, Alcée Labranche, John B. Dawson, P. E. Bossier.

Indiana.—Robt. Dale Owen, Thomas J. Henley, Thomas Smith, Caleb B. Smith, Wm. J. Brown, John W. Davis, Joseph A. Wright, John Pettit, Samuel C. Sample, Andrew Kennedy.

Illinois.—Robert Smith, John A. McClernand, Orlando B. Ficklin, John Wentworth, Stephen A. Douglass, Joseph P. Hoge, J. J. Hardin.

Alabama.—James Dellet, James E. Belser, Dixon H. Lewis, William W. Payne, George S. Houston, Reuben Chapman, Felix McConnell.

Mississippi.—Wm. H. Hammett, Robert W. Roberts, Jacob Thompson, Tilghman M. Tucker.

Missouri.—James M. Hughes, James H. Relfe, Gustavus B. Bower, James B. Bowlin, John Jameson.

Arkansas.—Edward Cross.

Michigan.—Robert McClelland, Lucius Lyon, James B. Hunt.

Territorial Delegates.

Florida.—David Levy.

Wisconsin.—Henry Dodge.

Iowa.—Augustus C. Dodge.

The election of Speaker was the first business on the assembling of the Congress, and its result was the authentic exposition of the state of parties. Mr. John W. Jones, of Virginia, the democratic candidate, received 128 votes on the first ballot, and was elected—the whig candidate (Mr. John White, late Speaker) receiving 59. An adverse majority of more than two to one was the result to the whig party at the first election after the extra session of 1841—at the first election after that "log-cabin, hard-cider and coon-skin" campaign in which the whigs had carried the presidential election by 234 electoral votes against 60: so truly had the democratic senators foreseen the destruction of the party in the contests of the extra session of 1841. The Tyler party was "no where"—Mr. Wise alone being classified as such—the rest, so few in number as to have been called the "corporal's guard," had been left out of Congress by their constituents, or had received office from Mr. Tyler, and gone off. Mr. Caleb McNulty, of Ohio, also democratic, was elected clerk of the House, and by a vote of two to one, thus ousting an experienced and capable whig officer, in the person of Mr. Matthew St. Clair Clarke—a change which turned out to be unfortunate for the friends of the House, and mortifying to those who did it—the new clerk becoming a subject of indictment for embezzlement before his service was over.

The prominent topics of the message were the state of our affairs with Great Britain and Mexico—with the former in relation to Oregon, the latter in relation to Texas. In the same breath in which the President announced the happy results of the Ashburton treaty, he was forced to go on and show the improvidence of that treaty on our part, in not exacting a settlement of the questions which concerned the interests of the United States, while settling those which lay near to the interests of Great Britain. The Oregon territorial boundary was one of these omitted American subjects; but though passed over by the government in the negotiations, it was forced upon its attention by the people. A stream of emigration was pouring into that territory, and their presence on the banks of the Columbia caused the attention of both governments to be drawn to the question of titles and boundaries; and Mr. Tyler introduced it accordingly to Congress.

"A question of much importance still remains to be adjusted between them. The territorial limits of the two countries in relation to what is commonly known as the Oregon Territory, still remains in dispute. The United States would be at all times indisposed to aggrandize themselves at the expense of any other nation; but while they would be restrained by principles of honor, which should govern the conduct of nations as well as that of individuals, from setting up a demand for territory which does not belong to them, they would as unwillingly consent to a surrender of their rights. After the most rigid, and, as far as practicable, unbiassed examination of the subject, the United States have always contended that their rights appertain to the entire region of country lying on the Pacific, and embraced within 42° and 54° 40' of north latitude. This claim being controverted by Great Britain, those who have preceded the present Executive—actuated, no doubt, by an earnest desire to adjust the matter upon terms mutually satisfactory to both countries—have caused to be submitted to the British Government propositions for settlement and final adjustment, which, however, have not proved heretofore acceptable to it. Our Minister at London has, under instructions, again brought the subject to the consideration of that Government; and while nothing will be done to compromit the rights or honor of the United States, every proper expedient will be resorted to, in order to bring the negotiation now in the progress of resumption to a speedy and happy termination."

This passage, while letting it be seen that we were already engaged in a serious controversy with Great Britain—engaged in it almost before the ink was dry which had celebrated the peace mission which was to settle all questions—also committed a serious mistake in point of fact, and which being taken up as a party watchword, became a difficult and delicate point of management at home: it was the line of 54 degrees 40 minutes north for our northern boundary onthe Pacific. The message says that the United States have always contended for that line. That is an error. From the beginning of the dispute, the United States government had proposed the parallel of 49 degrees, as being the continuation of the dividing line on this side of the Rocky Mountains, and governed by the same law—the decision of the commissaries appointed by the British and French under the tenth article of the treaty of Utrecht to establish boundaries between them on the continent of North America. President Jefferson offered that line in 1807—which was immediately after the return of Messrs. Lewis and Clark from their meritorious expedition, and as soon as it was seen that a question of boundary was to arise in that quarter with Great Britain. President Monroe made the same offer in 1818, and also in 1824. Mr. Adams renewed it in 1826: so that, so far from having always claimed to 54-40, the United States had always offered the parallel of 49. As to 54-40, no American statesman had ever thought of originating a title there. It was a Russian point of demarcation on the coast and islands—not a continental line at all—first assigned to the Russian Fur Company by the Emperor Paul, and afterwards yielded to Russia by the United States and Great Britain, separately, in separating their respective claims on the north-west of America. She was allowed to come south to that point on the coast and islands, not penetrating the interior of the continent—leaving the rest for Great Britain and the United States to settle as they could. It was proposed at the time that the three powers should settle together—in a tripartite treaty: but the Emperor Alexander, like a wise man, contented himself with settling his own boundary, without mixing himself in the dispute between the United States and Great Britain. This he did about the year 1820: and it was long afterwards, and by those who knew but little of this establishment of a southern limit for the Russian Fur Company, that this point established in their charter, and afterwards agreed to by the United States and Great Britain, was taken up as the northern boundary for the United States. It was a great error in Mr. Tyler to put this Russian limit in his message for our line; and, being taken up by party spirit, and put into one of those mushroom political creeds, called "platforms" (wherewith this latter generation has been so plentifully cursed), it came near involving the United States in war.

The prospective war with Mexico on the subject of Texas was thus shadowed forth:

"I communicate herewith certain despatches received from our Minister at Mexico, and also a correspondence which has recently occurred between the envoy from that republic and the Secretary of State. It must be regarded as not a little extraordinary that the government of Mexico, in anticipation of a public discussion, which it has been pleased to infer, from newspaper publications, as likely to take place in Congress, relating to the annexation of Texas to the United States, should have so far anticipated the result of such discussion as to have announced its determination to visit any such anticipated decision by a formal declaration of war against the United States. If designed to prevent Congress from introducing that question as a fit subject for its calm deliberation and final judgment, the Executive has no reason to doubt that it will entirely fail of its object. The representatives of a brave and patriotic people will suffer no apprehension of future consequences to embarrass them in the course of their proposed deliberations. Nor will the Executive Department of the government fail, for any such cause, to discharge its whole duty to the country."

At the time of communicating this information to Congress, the President was far advanced in a treaty with Texas for her annexation to the United States—an event which would be war itself with Mexico, without any declaration on her part, or our part—she being then at war with Texas as a revolted province, and endeavoring to reclaim her to her former subjection. Still prepossessed with his idea of a national currency of paper money, in preference to gold and silver, the President recurs to his previous recommendation for an Exchequer bank—regrets its rejection by Congress,—vaunts its utility—and thinks that it would still aid, in a modified form, in restoring the currency to a sound and healthy state.

"In view of the disordered condition of the currency at the time, and the high rates of exchange between different parts of the country, I felt it to be incumbent on me to present to the consideration of your predecessors a proposition conflicting in no degree with the constitution or the rights of the States, and having the sanction—not in detail, but in principle—of some of the eminent men who had preceded me in the executive office. That proposition contemplated the issuing of treasury notes of denominations not less than five, nor more than one hundred dollars, to be employed in paymentof the obligations of the government in lieu of gold and silver, at the option of the public creditor, and to an amount not exceeding $15,000,000. It was proposed to make them receivable every where, and to establish at various points depositories of gold and silver, to be held in trust for the redemption of such notes, so as to insure their convertibility into specie. No doubt was entertained that such notes would have maintained a par value with gold and silver—thus furnishing a paper currency of equal value over the Union, thereby meeting the just expectations of the people, and fulfilling the duties of a parental government. Whether the depositories should be permitted to sell or purchase bills under very limited restrictions, together with all its other details, was submitted to the wisdom of Congress, and was regarded as of secondary importance. I thought then, and think now, that such an arrangement would have been attended with the happiest results. The whole matter of the currency would have been placed where, by the constitution, it was designed to be placed—under the immediate supervision and control of Congress. The action of the government would have been independent of all corporations; and the same eye which rests unceasingly on the specie currency, and guards it against adulteration, would also have rested on the paper currency, to control and regulate its issues, and protect it against depreciation. Under all the responsibilities attached to the station which I occupy, and in redemption of a pledge given to the last Congress, at the close of its first session, I submitted the suggestion to its consideration at two consecutive sessions. The recommendation, however, met with no favor at its hands. While I am free to admit that the necessities of the times have since become greatly ameliorated, and that there is good reason to hope that the country is safely and rapidly emerging from the difficulties and embarrassments which every where surrounded it in 1841, yet I cannot but think that its restoration to a sound and healthy condition would be greatly expedited by a resort to the expedient in a modified form."

Such were still the sighings and longings of Mr. Tyler for a national currency of paper money. They were his valedictory to that delusive cheat. Before he had an opportunity to present another annual message, the Independent Treasury System, and the revived gold currency had done their office—had given ease and safety to the government finances, had restored prosperity and confidence to the community, and placed the country in a condition to dispense with all small money paper currency—all under twenty dollars—if it only had the wisdom to do so.

On the morning of the 28th of February, a company of some hundred guests, invited by Commodore Stockton, including the President of the United States, his cabinet, members of both Houses of Congress, citizens and strangers, with a great number of ladies, headed by Mrs. Madison, ex-presidentess, repaired on board the steamer man-of-war Princeton, then lying in the river below the city, to witness the working of her machinery (a screw propeller), and to observe the fire of her two great guns—throwing balls of 225 pounds each. The vessel was the pride and pet of the commodore, and having undergone all the trials necessary to prove her machinery and her guns, was brought round to Washington for exhibition to the public authorities. The day was pleasant—the company numerous and gay. On the way down to the vessel a person whispered in my ear that Nicholas Biddle was dead. It was my first information of that event, and heard not without reflections on the instability and shadowy fleetingness of the pursuits and contests of this life. Mr. Biddle had been a Power in the State, and for years had baffled or balanced the power of the government. He had now vanished, and the news of his death came in a whisper, not announced in a tumult of voices; and those who had contended with him might see their own sudden and silent evanescence in his. It was a lesson upon human instability, and felt as such; but without a thought or presentiment that, before the sun should go down, many of that high and gay company should vanish from earth—and the one so seriously impressed barely fail to be of the number.

The vessel had proceeded down the river below the grave of Washington—below Mount Vernon—and was on her return, the machinery working beautifully, the guns firing well, and the exhibition of the day happily over. It was four-o'clock in the evening, and a sumptuous collation had refreshed and enlivened the guests. They were still at the table, when word was brought down that one of the guns was to befired again; and immediately the company rose to go on deck and observe the fire—the long and vacant stretch in the river giving full room for the utmost range of the ball. The President and his cabinet went foremost, this writer among them, conversing with Mr. Gilmer, Secretary of the Navy. The President was called back: the others went on, and took their places on the left of the gun—pointing down the river. The commodore was with this group, which made a cluster near the gun, with a crowd behind, and many all around. I had continued my place by the side of Mr. Gilmer, and of course was in the front of the mass which crowded up to the gun. The lieutenant of the vessel, Mr. Hunt, came and whispered in my ear that I would see the range of the ball better from the breech; and proposed to change my place. It was a tribute to my business habits, being indebted for this attention to the interest which I had taken all day in the working of the ship, and the firing of her great guns. The lieutenant placed me on a carronade carriage, some six feet in the rear of the gun, and in the line of her range. Senator Phelps had stopped on my left, with a young lady of Maryland (Miss Sommerville) on his arm. I asked them to get on the carriage to my right (not choosing to lose my point of observation): which they did—the young lady between us, and supported by us both, with the usual civil phrases, that we would take care of her. The lieutenant caused the gun to be worked, to show the ease and precision with which her direction could be changed and then pointed down the river to make the fire—himself and the gunners standing near the breech on the right. I opened my mouth wide to receive the concussion on the inside as well as on the outside of the head and ears, so as to lessen the force of the external shock. I saw the hammer pulled back—heard a tap—saw a flash—felt a blast in the face, and knew that my hat was gone: and that was the last that I knew of the world, or of myself, for a time, of which I can give no account. The first that I knew of myself, or of any thing afterwards, was rising up at the breech of the gun, seeing the gun itself split open—two seamen, the blood oozing from their ears and nostrils, rising and reeling near me—Commodore Stockton, hat gone, and face blackened, standing bolt upright, staring fixedly upon the shattered gun. I had heard no noise—no more than the dead. I only knew that the gun had bursted from seeing its fragments. I felt no injury, and put my arm under the head of a seaman, endeavoring to rise, and falling back. By that time friends had ran up, and led me to the bow—telling me afterwards that there was a supernatural whiteness in the face and hands—all the blood in fact having been driven from the surface. I saw none of the killed: they had been removed before consciousness returned. All that were on the left had been killed, the gun bursting on that side, and throwing a large fragment, some tons weight, on the cluster from which I had been removed, crushing the front rank with its force and weight. Mr. Upshur, Secretary of State; Mr. Gilmer, Secretary of the Navy; Commodore Kennon, of the navy; Mr. Virgil Maxey, late United States chargé at the Hague; Mr. Gardiner of New York, father-in-law that would have been to Mr. Tyler—were the dead. Eleven seamen were injured—two mortally. Commodore Stockton was scorched by the burning powder, and stunned by the concussion; but not further injured. I had the tympanum of the left ear bursted through, the warm air from the lungs issuing from it at every breathing. Senator Phelps and the young lady on my right, had fallen inwards towards the gun, but got up without injury. We all three had fallen inwards, as into a vacuum. The President's servant who was next me on the left was killed. Twenty feet of the vessels bulwark immediately behind me was blown away. Several of the killed had members of their family on board—to be deluded for a little while, by the care of friends, with the belief that those so dear to them were only hurt. Several were prevented from being in the crushed cluster by the merest accidents—Mr. Tyler being called back—Mr. Seaton not finding his hat in time—myself taken out of it the moment before the catastrophe. Fortunately there were physicians on board to do what was right for the injured, and to prevent blood-letting, so ready to be called for by the uninformed, and so fatal when the powers of life were all on the retreat. Gloomily and sad the gay company of the morning returned to the city, and the calamitous intelligence flew over the land. For myself, I had gone through the experience of a sudden death, as if from lightning, which extinguishes knowledgeand sensation, and takes one out of the world without thought or feeling. I think I know what it is to die without knowing it—and that such a death is nothing to him that revives. The rapid and lucid working of the mind to the instant of extinction, is the marvel that still astonishes me. I heard the tap—saw the flash—felt the blast—and knew nothing of the explosion. I was cut off in that inappreciable point of time which intervened between the flash and the fire—between the burning of the powder in the touch-hole, and the burning of it in the barrel of the gun. No mind can seize that point of time—no thought can measure it; yet to me it was distinctly marked, divided life from death—the life that sees, and feels, and knows—from death (for such it was for the time), which annihilates self and the world. And now is credible to me, or rather comprehensible, what persons have told me of the rapid and clear working of the mind in sudden and dreadful catastrophes—as in steamboat explosions, and being blown into the air, and have the events of their lives pass in review before them, and even speculate upon the chances of falling on the deck, and being crushed, or falling on the water and swimming: and persons recovered from drowning, and running their whole lives over in the interval between losing hope and losing consciousness.

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