Read Online Legacy by James A. Michener - Free Book Online
Authors: James A. Michener
Tags: Fiction, Historical fiction, General, Fiction - General, Social Science, Sociology, Large Type Books, Customs & Traditions, Iran-Contra Affair; 1985-1990
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of 1804 in a trance, unable to focus on anything for long. The death of Hamilton, the man he admired above all others, represented a tragedy he could not absorb. In 1805 he pulled himself together and travelled to Philadelphia, where with the help of Gouverneur Morris, a man whom he had not liked at first but who grew
upon him as he did upon all who knew him, he arranged a kind of rescue fund for their fellow delegate Robert Morris, whom they found in poverty.
When he returned home at the end of 1805, he fell afoul of a blatant Jeffersonian named Killbride living in Culpeper, and although they never referred to each other by name, Killbride defamed the memory of Hamilton constantly,
63
accusing him of being a royalist who wanted to instal a king in Washington, while my father attacked President Jefferson for being a radi- cal in the pay of France. At a debate in Wash- ington, Killbride so infuriated my father by demeaning Hamilton that there was no recourse but to challenge Killbride to a duel, which was eagerly accepted.
Father chose me as his second, and on a grey November morning along the banks of the Potomac, eight of us marched into the mists, arranged ourselves as tradition dictated, and proceeded with the duel. As seconds, Kill- bride's man and I had to ask one last time if the difference between the two protagonists could be reconciled, and each man said in firm voice 'No!' so the duel continued.
To the tremulous counting of the judge, one to ten, the two men walked away from each other, and I remember thinking: My God, if they could just keep marching forever! But at the count of ten, which rang like a funeral bell, they turned and fired, and my father fell dead with a bullet just above the heart.
So ended his preoccupation with the American Constitution and his adoration of Alexander Hamilton.
I
That evening as I walked under the trees that he planted on our place, I thought: Thirty-nine signers of our Constitution, two ended as trai- tors, two murdered in duels. That's ten per- cent, and I began to chuckle as my red-headed father might have, to recall the charges that he had to combat in the Massachusetts fight for
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ratification: that the framers were all rich, all slave-holders, all protectors of privilege.
No! No! They were a collection of ordinary men, some bad, some good, some dull, some bright, some pro-slavery, some anti-, and two of them, Hamilton and my father, ready to sur- render their lives in defence of things they believed in.
fudge Edmund Starr 1780--1847
In a perverse way, I've always reserved a special affection for one of the least admirable of my ancestors. In physical bulk, judge Edmund Starr was unquestionably the greater by at least a hun- dred and thirty pounds, but intellectually, I'm afraid he was a midget. Like others of our family, he first achieved public attention because of his valour in battle defending our nation, but it is not for such early feats that he's in the history books. I cherish him because he illustrates how men or women of only modest attainment can sometimes take part in major accomplishments; in his case, help to hold soci9ty on the right track in times of decision. judge Starr hoisted his immense bulk onto the bench of the United States Supreme Court at a time when a loyal, reliable vote like his was needed, and in his own way he helped forge the concepts that bound our nation together, and so when I returned from the White House tired and fright- ened on Friday night, I certainly did not want to distress Nancy with speculation about what might happen at my Monday appearance before the Senate Committee. Instead, I found quiet solace in ruminating with her about the amusing judicial experiences of our less than illustrious ancestor.
66
A rural neighbour once said of judge Starr: 'To settle a wager as to whether he weighed more than three hundred and twenty-five, we put him on the scale I use for hogs, and he tipped at three twenty-three.' A fellow
upon him as he did upon all who knew him, he arranged a kind of rescue fund for their fellow delegate Robert Morris, whom they found in poverty.
When he returned home at the end of 1805, he fell afoul of a blatant Jeffersonian named Killbride living in Culpeper, and although they never referred to each other by name, Killbride defamed the memory of Hamilton constantly,
63
accusing him of being a royalist who wanted to instal a king in Washington, while my father attacked President Jefferson for being a radi- cal in the pay of France. At a debate in Wash- ington, Killbride so infuriated my father by demeaning Hamilton that there was no recourse but to challenge Killbride to a duel, which was eagerly accepted.
Father chose me as his second, and on a grey November morning along the banks of the Potomac, eight of us marched into the mists, arranged ourselves as tradition dictated, and proceeded with the duel. As seconds, Kill- bride's man and I had to ask one last time if the difference between the two protagonists could be reconciled, and each man said in firm voice 'No!' so the duel continued.
To the tremulous counting of the judge, one to ten, the two men walked away from each other, and I remember thinking: My God, if they could just keep marching forever! But at the count of ten, which rang like a funeral bell, they turned and fired, and my father fell dead with a bullet just above the heart.
So ended his preoccupation with the American Constitution and his adoration of Alexander Hamilton.
I
That evening as I walked under the trees that he planted on our place, I thought: Thirty-nine signers of our Constitution, two ended as trai- tors, two murdered in duels. That's ten per- cent, and I began to chuckle as my red-headed father might have, to recall the charges that he had to combat in the Massachusetts fight for
64
ratification: that the framers were all rich, all slave-holders, all protectors of privilege.
No! No! They were a collection of ordinary men, some bad, some good, some dull, some bright, some pro-slavery, some anti-, and two of them, Hamilton and my father, ready to sur- render their lives in defence of things they believed in.
fudge Edmund Starr 1780--1847
In a perverse way, I've always reserved a special affection for one of the least admirable of my ancestors. In physical bulk, judge Edmund Starr was unquestionably the greater by at least a hun- dred and thirty pounds, but intellectually, I'm afraid he was a midget. Like others of our family, he first achieved public attention because of his valour in battle defending our nation, but it is not for such early feats that he's in the history books. I cherish him because he illustrates how men or women of only modest attainment can sometimes take part in major accomplishments; in his case, help to hold soci9ty on the right track in times of decision. judge Starr hoisted his immense bulk onto the bench of the United States Supreme Court at a time when a loyal, reliable vote like his was needed, and in his own way he helped forge the concepts that bound our nation together, and so when I returned from the White House tired and fright- ened on Friday night, I certainly did not want to distress Nancy with speculation about what might happen at my Monday appearance before the Senate Committee. Instead, I found quiet solace in ruminating with her about the amusing judicial experiences of our less than illustrious ancestor.
66
A rural neighbour once said of judge Starr: 'To settle a wager as to whether he weighed more than three hundred and twenty-five, we put him on the scale I use for hogs, and he tipped at three twenty-three.' A fellow
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