John Milton Binckley to "My Dearly Beloved Aunt," March 21, 1865

[John Milton Binckley at Washington, D.C., to "My Dearly Beloved Aunt," at [n.p.], March 21, 1865. Paragraph breaks added for easier reading.

Many thanks to William Myers, Mary Davy, Sally Young and Sue Davis for their ongoing research collaboration; specifically to William for providing scans of the original document, and in turn many thanks to Peter Johnston Binckley and Patricia D'Arcy "Trish" Binckley (1951-2007), at the source.]

                                                                Washington DC
                                                                    21 March 1865
My Dearly Beloved Aunt,

How long it has been since I wrote to you I am afraid to recollect. I only know it has been too long, and though I confess that I do not think of you as often as I once did, for time brings such thousands of things & persons to drive older and better memories out of my head, yet when I do think of my dear old Aunty, it is with very warm love and with so much feeling that it always makes me long to go right to you. 

Believe me, I am still as fond of thinking of the days of my youth as if they had but yesterday passed away. Yet how long has been the time that now seems so short, since in 1844 and 1845 I used to be with you. It will, I think, be 21 years next harvest since that summer when I staid so long with you.

Oh what changes have been wrought in that time! The many places I have travelled, the people I have known, have hated, have forgiven, have loved, have forgotten! The many heartaches, the many dreams, the many disappointments, the many temptations -- alas, not always resisted!  

Yet you have changed but little. I know it. I could now go to you a man of thirty-four, with my wife and my two children, and with the sweet memory of the one that God took, and could forget it all and be, as I looked upon you, the same boy of fourteen that I was in the harvest of 1845.

I have seen much of the world, of fine cities, of rich & splendid folks, of bright and beautiful things, but ah! My dear mother's sister, I have seen nothing since my boyhood that I love so much as what I saw then. This world is all false, and the most of its splendor & finery is empty show that dries up the heart and starves the soul.

My family, including Mother, are down on the Eastern shores, where I have rented a plantation. I am here practicing law and have also been one of the Editors of the Daily Chronicle. I sent my family down there partly because my wife's health required her to be in the country & partly because [the cost of] living was so very high in the city and besides, I had a notion to take a trip to the Rocky Mountains, where brother George us -- that is, in the Pike's Peak country, now called Colorado. But I did not go.

In the fall, we will all be back in my own house in the city. I have a large garden with a right nice house in the midst, which, thanks be to God, is my own property. So with a comfortable home over my dear mother's head in her old age, I fear nothing. 

                                        God bless my dear Aunty
                                                          Milton  

[John Milton Binckley (circa 1831-1878).
Aunt = possibly Eva Catharina "Kitty" Stocker Croskey (1784-?).Mary Louisa Michel (1838-1930).  Children up to that time:  Ellen / Nellie / Nella (Fontaine) Binckley (1860-1951), Rosalie Binckley (1862-1864), Harvey Mitchell Binckley (1864-1928). 
Mother = Charlotte Stocker Binckley (1788-1877).
George Binckley (1828-1885)]

Mary Louisa Michel Binckley Memoir, 1906 (and 1899): Part VI

Bedford (Liberty), Virginia, by Edward Beyer, circa 1855

[Mary Louisa/Louise Mitchell/Michel Binckley Memoir, 1906 (and 1899), Part VI. Additional paragraph breaks inserted for easier reading.

 

Many thanks to William Myers, Mary Davy, Sally Young and Sue Davis for their ongoing research collaboration; specifically to William for providing scans of the original documents, and in turn many thanks to Peter Johnston Binckley and Patricia D'Arcy "Trish" Binckley (1951-2007), at the source.]

Of that winter in the South I have few impressions. I believe we boarded with some distant relations, and father was ill, and some children (I don't know whose) tormented me.

But only two incidents stamped themselves clearly. I heard mother and her friends talking of a lovely lady they were all fond of and pitied and I for the first time took in the idea that a man could be cruel to his wife. 

Then in a store one day, mother's friend directed attention to a lady standing at a distant counter with her daughter an overgrown girl; and afterwards I heard them laughing -- "Sixteen, and her mother keeps her in pantalettes yet --" ["]Yes, the mother is a gay widow, and dresses that poor girl like a child for fear of being seen with a grown daughter." That also was a new revelation as to human possibilities. 

There are no pleasant ideas of the return trip to Abingdon. We must gave gone by stage as dear Blackie died in the South. Shortly afterwards we went to Bedford, and it must have been a sort of farewell occasion that mother took me with her to dine at cousin Preston's. My chin just did come over the edge of the table and the solemn silence children had to keep in their elders' presence gave me only more time for keen observation of guests and servants, while my first art criticism was aroused by the old blue willow-pattern plate so close to my nose. 

Mother had none of those plates, her set of China, as was often done then. Grandfather Johnston had sent for these in his early  married life. There is not one of them left, most being lost in the war. I had one or two of the desert [dessert] plates which were lost with nearly everything else I had stored in Chicago.

Uncle Tom Campbell lost his wife (my father's sister Martha) and wrote to urge Mother,) as we were intending to go to Bedford) to come to him for awhile and help him until he could get his houseful of children arranged for [parentheses as in original].

The baby, Fred, was very delicate, and poor uncle Tom was in such trouble that my parents consented to stay with them some months. The eldest, Mary (afterwards Mrs. Jones) was some years older than I but Charlotte (Mrs. Butts) was my age. Ann, younger. A little boy two years old, and the baby. Mother's devotion saved the sick baby's life, but that winter the country was scourged by a (then) new disease, diptheria, which raged for months. We were all ill, but recovered, except uncle Tom's splendid little boy, Willie.

That winter I saw sister Charlotte for the first time. She was living with her aunt, Mrs. Wingfield, and came out to visit us. Father's mother had died two several years before, and so had both his unmarried sisters, Mary, and Louise: his brother Stephen had died in the prime of life, just after writing a successful play -- a most brilliant youth.

The eldest brother Tom lived in Kentucky and married Miss Julian of Frankfort. The sailor brother, Fred, was captain of a merchant vessel when he died of yellow fever on the Gulf of Mexico.

Uncle Robert was the only one in Bedford, and lived in the old home place. He married the beautiful Lucy Phillipps and raised a family of twelve children to be grown and married. The handsomest set I ever saw.

Mother was the blessing of uncle Tom's house for more than a year when he married again. A most excellent match in every way, a she proved a devoted step-mother, and made herself beloved by all his kin. She was also named Martha, and during all her life was devoted to Mother. She lost one grown unmarried daughter, Martha, and had no son. Her daughter Fannie married a first cousin, Joe Wilson, Roberta married Hopkins, and Sallie is unmarried.

In case I cannot finish this, there is one thing I want remembered by my children. Although we were always struggling with poverty, the gay sweetness of my father, and the serenity of my mother, kept an atmosphere around us that made the poorest home enjoyable. Children should always be able to look around and find peace. 

[Mary Louisa/Louise Mitchell/Michel Binckley (1838-1930).
Mother = Jane Mary Wood Johnston Mitchell/Michel (1811-1892).
Father = Harvey Mitchell/Michel (1799-1866).
The trip to Alabama probably occurred between 1842 and 1844. The move to Bedford occurred by 1845.
Grandfather Johnston = Peter Johnston, Jr. (1763-1831).
Uncle Tom Campbell (1813-1890).
My father's sister Martha = Martha Mitchell Campbell (before 1820-circa 1844).
Mary Campbell (circa 1835-?).
Charlotte Campbell (1837-1906) married Junius H. Butts (1830-1878) in 1858.
Baby Fred Campbell (born circa 1844).
Ann = Ann Henry Campbell (1837-?) married Thomas Kelso (1834-1867) in 1865.
Sister Charlotte = Charlotte Elizabeth Griffin Mitchell (1829-1921).;
Her aunt Wingfield = Charlotte Griffin Wingfield (1810-circa 1855), married to Gustavus Adolphus Wingfield (1808-1888).
Father's mother = Sarah "Sally" B. Hawkins Mitchell (1777-1841). 
Mary and Louise = Mary Jane Mitchell (d. 1839) and Louise Mitchell.
Stephen = Stephen Mitchell (d. before 1845).
Tom = Thomas B. Mitchell (1796-1868).
Miss Julian = Mildred Abbott Julian married Tom in 1823.
The sailor brother, Fred = Frederick W. Mitchell (d. circa 1849).
Uncle Robert and Lucy Phillipps = Robert Crump Mitchell (1807-1872) and Ann Lucy Phillips (circa 1809-before 1880).
Martha = Martha Sarah Crenshaw (1825-1890) married Tom Campbell on June 6, 1844.
Martha Campbell (dates unknown).
Fannie Campbell (1847-1938) married Joseph Watkins "Joe" Wilson (1846-1877) in 1872. His mother was Mary Jane Campbell Wilson (1810-1851).
Roberta Campbell (1851-1928) married John H. Hopkins (1852-1892) in 1880.
Sallie Campbell (1855-1925).]

Beverly Randolph Johnston to Lieutenant John Preston "Pres" Johnston, March 19, 1845

[Beverly Randolph Johnston at Smithfield Plantation, Blacksburg, Virginia, to Lieutenant John Preston “Pres” Johnston, 4^th Artillery, at Fortress Monroe, Virginia, March 19 (but postmarked March 25), 1845. Box 26, Folder 12, Robert Morton Hughes Papers, Special Collections and University Archives, Patricia W. and J. Douglas Perry Library, Old Dominion University Libraries, Norfolk, VA 23529. This is my rough transcription. Additional paragraph breaks added for easier reading.]

My dear Preston,

It relay seems to me that you are carrying the family propensity and privilege of not writing, rather far. ‘Tis now six or eight weeks since I wrote you on the subject of your proposed resignation. Since then not a line or letter from you.

But certainly, I am the last person in the world who ought to permit himself to be in a passion with another for a fault of this sort. If you have decided, it were as well, however, if you would apprize me of your choice. I have nothing to say now beyond what I have already written except as to a matter on which your means of information must be far better than mine. The chances of war.

Of course, you cannot, if there be a probability of it, think of now retiring from the army. If your wish to adopt a new profession still subsists, do not take a step which looks like resignation without consulting upon your uncle Joseph upon the propriety of doing so, in the event that the circumstances be such as to leave you in doubt.

I am just commencing my spring circuit and shall be in business to the eyes from some weeks to come. Whether you resign or not, it seems to me, that you may take a leave of absence and pay us a visit this spring. I should prefer that it were after April, as I shall not be at home one during that month. I left Eliza at home last week extremely well, but not having heard from you for a long time. What have you been about? The Inauguration perhaps.

Your aunt Jane has gone back to Liberty, so if you do visit us, come by that route, so as to see her. She is, or will be then, in the village.

This is not intended as a latter, but a hint to you to write me one/ I am a little fatigued, and a little sick, and not a little indolent at this moment, so I cannot fill my paper at all agreeably to myself. I have been rather in bad health  all this winter and at the same time more than usually occupied with business, which may serve, (if any further cause than my fixed habit were needed,) to apologize in some faint way, for my not writing oftener to you, than you do to me. Adieu

                                       Truly yours

                                           B.R. Johnston

[B. R. Johnston = Beverly Randolph Johnston (1803-1876)

Eliza = Eliza Mary Johnston (1825-1909)

Pres = John Preston Johnston (1824-1847)

Joseph Eggleston Johnston (1807-1891)

Aunt Jane = Jane Mary Wood Johnston Mitchell (1811-1892), married to Harvey Mitchell/Michel (1799-1866). Note that Jane’s third child, Sue Henry Mitchell/Michel (1845-1940), would be born in Bedford County on September 15, 1845.]

[Many thanks to Sue Davis, William Myers, Mary Davy and Sally Young for their ongoing research collaboration.]

Beverly Randolph Johnston to Lieutenant John Preston "Pres" Johnston, February 3, 1845

[Beverly Randolph Johnston at Abingdon, Virginia, to Lieutenant John Preston “Pres” Johnston at Fortress Monroe, Virginia, February 3, 1845. Box 26, Folder 12, Robert Morton Hughes Papers, Special Collections and University Archives, Patricia W. and J. Douglas Perry Library, Old Dominion University Libraries, Norfolk, VA 23529. This is my rough transcription. Additional paragraph breaks added for easier reading.]

My dear Preston

Eliza has just told me (that is, a day or two ago) that you are exceedingly anxious for an answer to a letter written some weeks since. As I am wholly ignorant of its contents, except by her representation, I can hardly given you what you seem earnestly to wish, a very satisfactory response – and yet, if it be, as I suppose it is, on the subject, chiefly, of a change of profession, I can say now all that I could, or need say, had I perused it twenty times.

It is a matter scarcely admitting of interference or calling for advice: so much is it dependent upon, and governed by, personal views and feelings. I will not deny that I always had and have a preference of my own, and a wish that your conclusion should be in accordance with it. But you will remember that I have at no time sought to exert a controlling or even a persuasive influence with you.

I desired, and I yet desire most earnestly that you should determine for yourself upon the calmest review of every consideration applying to and arising from the position in which you find yourself. In an examination of this sort, something is proper to be allowed for mere taste or predilection for one pursuit rather than another; and yet its influence should not be preponderating, unless the passion for one or aversion to another profession be really exceedingly strong.

But supposing that there is no such overmastering impulse in the case, the relation in which you stand to Eliza imposes upon you more than the ordinary duty of a brother. Duties too, which are abandoned by your choice of the profession of a soldier. There is too a feeling with me in this matter growing out of her present position which is exceedingly strong & painful. I can scarcely bear that she should be dependent for protection and affection upon persons, who, tho’ kind, and devoted to her, are so much further removed in blood than you and I. And yet, as I consented, years ago, to yield my claim to her, I cannot renew it. But with you, the case is altogether different. You have a right against the world, and a hold upon Eliza’s affection paramount to all others.

Floyd is moody, discontented with his preset condition, and unsettled. Nothing is more uncertain than his future determination and abode. Indeed I am strongly apprehensive now of a move to Iowa, Wisconsin, Oregon, or Texas, and I could scarcely prevent poor Lizzy from clinging to their uncertain and adventurous fortunes. Were you here, she might at once come to us. We might form a household of our own, and fears and dangers of this sort would be at rest.

But things of this sort are best settled upon personal interview. If you have a desire to adopt the profession of your father; and it is a firm and strong purpose; doubt not, fear not, of success. Whatever of aid I can give you will be cheerfully, joyfully afforded. Tis true there are difficulties, toils and trials but such as readily and surely are confronted by courage, subdued by energy and perseverance.

I do not promise you (nor would it be worthy of talents and ambition, were it so) eminence unless you are willing to win it by strenuous execution. But mine is a profession in which talents or even plain sense united with integrity and diligence never fail of their reward. Be it remembered however, that amongst the rewards of an elevated rank in the profession, wealth is not always, nor even frequently, to be counted.

It was once the remark and a just one of an eminent Lawyer (Mr. Clay), “that those of high standing, generally lived well, worked hard, and died poor.” Competence at least, and competence almost beyond the power of fortune is the promise which the Law makes to her votaries – and with that promise they are content, for, beyond most callings, they are of a generous and liberal spirit – I mean the higher grades – Of course there is a vulgar crew of Subalterns the mere packhorses and drudges of the bar who are not embraced in my remarks.

If you really propose abandoning the army, or if you desire to weigh the matter in connection with such counsel and aid as your friends here (chiefly Liz: & I) can offer, your best plan is to get a furlough as soon as you can and pay us a visit, We will then canvass the matter calmly  and advisedly.

It may be, however that I have misapprehended the purpose of your letter or at all events, the degree  in which you have admitted the idea of abandoning the army. It is not my purpose to seek to choose a profession for you, any more than I would think of choosing you a wife. Tis much a matte rof individual preference.

I have filled my paper and at last all that I have said, or can say, but amounts to this. Come to us at once, or as early as you can leave. We shall receive you joyfully. In the mean times, take no step more decisive. What you do must be done naturally, & for life.

Take counsel with you uncle Joseph. You cannot have a more competent or affectionate adviser. He is, I believe, something of an enthusiast for his profession. It is best for there is no excellence without it.

Your uncle Edward too, is of those who is wiser for others than himself. Hear all. Consult your own mind and heart, and you will then have the best preparation for a just decision. Write me soon, advising me of your movements.

                                                          most affectionately

                                                                   yours

                                                                       B.R. Johnston

[B. R. Johnston = Beverly Randolph Johnston (1803-1876)

Eliza/Lizzie/Liz = Eliza Mary Johnston (1825-1909)

Pres = John Preston Johnston (1824-1847)

John Buchanan Floyd (1806-1863), married to Sarah “Sally” Buchanan Preston Floyd (1802-1879) and apparently father of one or more children with enslaved servants, one named Josephine who died circa 1852.

Joseph Eggleston Johnston (1807-1891)

Edward William Johnston (1799-1867).]

[Many thanks to Sue Davis, William Myers, Mary Davy and Sally Young for their ongoing research collaboration.]

Beverly Randolph Johnston to Eliza Mary Johnston, November 21, 1845

[Beverly Randolph Johnston at Abingdon, Virginia, to Eliza Mary Johnston at Amsterdam, Botetourt, Virginia, November 21, 1845. Box 25, Folder 1, Robert Morton Hughes Papers, Special Collections and University Archives, Patricia W. and J. Douglas Perry Library, Old Dominion University Libraries, Norfolk, VA 23529. This is my rough transcription. Additional paragraph breaks added for easier reading.]

My dear Lizzy

Your letter of the 19^th reached me this evening. Truly, with all the disposition in the world to comply with your wishes, I am somewhat at a loss for an expedient. Next week is Quarterly court here. Besides that, Capt. Matthews is to be here on Monday to stay for at least a fortnight, perhaps longer, for the purpose of taking two or three accounts of great magnitude and importance.

I am fast fixed here, then, by engagements made some weeks ago, and cannot, without a deplorable breach of faith and duty, leave home while these matters are pending. You must even Take patience, and trust to the character of accidents.

I hope your Cousin Tom will be at Smithfield. If so, you can come with him. But I have not seen him for many a day, and cannot learn now, whether or not he is to be there.

Perhaps an opportunity may offer of you obtaining convey[ance] to Wythe. If so, I can take leave of absence from here for two days, and bring you home from thence.

I am very sorry that I could not be earlier apprized of your movements and wishes. You know I desired many weeks ago to communicate your plans far in advance, that I might conform to them. But even had you done so, the present moment is one of such importance, and my engagements are so strict, that could not possibly have left home now.

I rec’d the other day, a charming little ticket of invitation to Smithfield, on the 27^th. What I have already said, shows how impossible it is for me to be present. I must therefore trust to you to say all that should be said on my part. To tender my congratulations in all truth, sincerity and kindness. To express my regrets that I cannot witness an event so interesting to a household. Each and all of whom are so highly valued by me.

Write to me so soon as you reach Smithfield and it will go hard with me indeed, if I do not find some means of bringing you once more amongst us. I have an irrepressible longing to once again see and hear and talk to you – or be silent to you which, I believe, is more apt to be the case. Tell me something about Pres. I have not heard a word of him since you went away.

Tell Ballard I am his, for the winter, am ready and willing and waiting to go into all the matters he wrote me of, most hungrily and heartily.

I have an horrid pen, as you see, no knife and this very late. I only got home since dark.

                                                                   Yours, most truly

                                                                         Bev. R. Johnston 

[Bev. R. Johnston = Beverly Randolph Johnston (1803-1876)

Lizzy = Eliza Mary Johnston (1825-1909)

Pres = John Preston Johnston (1824-1847)

Captain Matthews = [?]

Cousin Tom = probably Thomas Lewis Preston (1812-1903)

Invitation from Smithfield = probably an invitation to the wedding of Catharine Jane Grace Preston (1821-1852) and George Henry Gilmer (1810-1874) on November 27, 1845. 

Ballard = William Ballard Preston (1805-1862).]

[Many thanks to Sue Davis, William Myers, Mary Davy and Sally Young for their ongoing research collaboration.]

Edward William Johnston (as "Il Secretario"), January 2, 1845

[Edward William Johnston writing under the nom de plume "Il Secretario." Richmond Whig and Advertiser, Volume XXII, Issue 1 (January 7, 1845), page 1. Extra paragraph breaks added for easier reading.]

WASHINGTON, Jan’y 2, 1845

A press of occupations has for some days denied me the opportunity of writing either to you or to my venerable and cherished friend near you. I am sure that the perfect identity of his style and mine, and our plentiful lack in common of wit must have often led you to suspect that I wrote many of the Enquirer’s “leaders.” Why, then should I deny the “soft impeachment?” But, then, Mr. Ritchie and I systematize and subdivide our joint loving labors. He does the quotations, supplying all those gems of original learning and taste that glisten adown the columns, like orient pearls at random strung. He has mines of that sort of erudition, the astonishing man – no less than six quotations from Dr. Dodd’s “Beauties of Shakespeare,” three from a book that Mr. Jefferson sent him called “the Bible,” and two from a rare author called Cowper. One of them runs thus: “Oh for a lodge in some vast wilderness,” and refers, I believe, to certain farms of Texas. The other is something about “I am monarch of all I survey,” and is supposed to allude to some floating Land Grants in the same Promised Land. 

He furnished all the French, too; which, you know, is of a quality that has long kept all Gaul in astonishment. He likewise does the History; for I assure you that the splendid discovery that Colbert was Minister of France to Louis the XVI is his, not mine. The “fine writing” is also his, undoubtedly – though, occasionally, the imaginative powers of the elder junior and the fervid genius of Tommy erect themselves into a sublime that almost rivals the paternal. They, in short, do the fancy (which you know is the richest) the erudition (which is perfectly ponderous) the Abstractions (which are of the very thinnest) and the fictions generally, which for boldness of invention soar a little higher into the empyrian than ever Pegasus winged before except that immortal Subverter of all fact, the great Ferdinand Vendez Pinto, the acknowledged prince of prevaricators. 

But if you ever see such humbler things in the Enquirer as a little sound argument, an atom of common sense, a touch of manliness, a ray of charity, a bit of sincerity, a momentary gleam of honesty, or a joke that is not fitter to make one cry than laugh – lay your hand upon your heart or crook your arm and swear that I did it! So, now, having made my confessions, let us pass to matters here.

They have not yet taken a very decisive form. The Democracy is a little be-fogged on the great questions, Texas and the Tariff. On which side it will emerge, no eye can yet discover. They have a great longing, in both cases, to keep their promises; for they are religiously observant of their engagements to do ill. Here, however, they pause, apprehensive that they may hurt – not others (for that were a small matter) but themselves. 

Meanwhile, by way of solacing their love of mischief, they threaten a little from time to time, to break up the Oregon negotiation, or amuse themselves with efforts to worry brave little Rhode Island and pull down her government about her ears. They have been at the latter pastime to-day.

As to Texas, they have held, on Saturday, one caucus, and are probably at brawls in another, to-night. In the former, there are said to have been many violent Southern propositions and speeches, met by as many cool Northern moves to make them all abortive. 

Finally, a postponement and a committee of compromise was resorted to – it is said, with no sincerity on the part of the North. The Report and final decision were to be to-night. You will perceive that they already have before them, openly , near a score of plans: probably as many more are yet to be divulged; for, it being taken for granted that rapine is a thing easily make acceptable to “the greatest land-stealers upon earth,” and that national robbery is a thing at which any knave is expert enough, every blockhead seems to have his Joint Resolution of Annexation. 

That single word, inasmuch as it avoids saying “Plunder,” dispenses with all other colorings of right or policy or sense or decency. 

Henceforth, if a man wants his neighbor’s house or wife's purse, let him ‘annex’ the same. If you have sold a thing, put the cash or other consideration into your pocket, button it up tight, and then “re-annex” it. 

Thus you see that the only difference lies in the Re: when you impudently say that you will have a thing without a title, that’s Annexation: and when you choose to say that you once had a claim, that’s Re-Annexation.

I have reason to believe, however, that the skilful doubler whom you celebrated the other day, Mr. Dromgoole, thinks that it is he who will bring matters about; and his crafty guesses at what can succeed may be much relied on. He thinks that all the positive measures will be defeated, and that a Resolution (to be moved by him) that it is expedient that Texas be annexed, will be the utmost that can be done. 

That, you see, will involve no action, and only be a declaration of opinion: and as the opinion of such a House is (as he knows) of no sort of weight with any body, the step will not be of the slightest consequence. The Globe, on the other hand, is positive that the thing will pass; but divested of all detail, in the simple and concise form that Texas be and is annexed.

The dynasty that is to be display an unexpected caution, amounting to timidity, as to committing itself to men or measures. Mr. Calhoun’s incredible follies have probably made them afraid of him and forfeited all the vantage he at first held. Never did any one of reputation exhibit such astonishing fatuity. What a rapid havoc he has made of such respect as was left him -- that of ability.

As I do not write to the Enquirer to-night, please let my loving friends know that when they can either write or fight or speak the truth, “the hero of the Liberty school” may conceive some little apprehension at the wrath or vauntings of “the Heroes of Hobbes’s Hole.” Dogs as they are, they may whine when I lash then: but let them bark at me, if they dare!

IL SECRETARIO

[Mr. Ritchie = Thomas Ritchie (1778-1854), editor of the Richmond Enquirer, supporter of Democratic President-Elect James Knox Polk (1795-1849) and the annexation of Texas. Thomas Ritchie, Jr. (1819-1854) took over the newspaper when his father was invited to Washington City by Polk to start another one. The younger Ritchie fought a pistol, swords and knives duel with Richmond Whig editor (and friend of Edward William Johnston) John Hampden Pleasants (1797-March 1, 1846) on February 22, 1846, mortally wounding him. 

Mr. Dromgoole = George Coke Dromgoole (1797-1847), US Congressman (Jacksonian Democrat).

Mr. Calhoun = John Caldwell Calhoun (1782-1850), pro-annexation Secretary of State under outgoing President John Tyler (1790-1862) and Senator from South Carolina until his death in 1850. 

Edward William Johnston (1799-1867), as Il Secretario and a Whig, opposed annexation and the Democrats (aka "The Democracy") in general.] 

[Many thanks to William Myers, Mary Davy, Sally Young and Sue Davis for their ongoing research collaboration.]