You
have to feel a little sorry for Richard
Lawrence. He was in the right place
at the right time, skulking around the steps of the U.S. Capitol Building on January 30, 1835. A funeral
service for a member of Congress was
breaking up. All the dignitaries of the
government including the Chief Executive
himself were in attendance and would have to pass within feet of him. He carried in each side pocket of his coat
one cocked and loaded single shot
derringer flintlock pistol. He had a
plan. What could possibly go
wrong?
Lawrence
was a 35 year old Englishman who had
been hearing voices in his head for
a very long time. Some believe he may
have been the victim of lead in the paint he used in his work. Back home those voices had told him
that he was the son and the heir of Richard
III and that somehow the American President had kept him from the Throne.
He believed what those voices told him with such certainty
that he decided to cross the ocean and come to the United
States to have his revenge.
Along the way he decided he was also King of the U.S. and that Andrew Jackson was a usurper.
Suddenly
the doors of the Capitol flew open and the mourners, led by the President
himself emerged. Lawrence hid himself
behind a pillar. As Jackson
neared, he drew his pistol and stepped in front of the President firing at his chest
at point blank range.
We
interrupt the narrative at this point to review a little bit about the
victim of the assault. Andrew Jackson
was no stranger to violence. During the American Revolution acting as a courier for irregular troops in North Carolina at the age of 13 or 14, Jackson was captured
by the Red Coats. When he defiantly refused the order
of a British officer to shine his boots,
his cheek was slashed open by a saber.
As a
young man he took leave of his widowed
mother keeping in mind a single piece of advice which he would follow
to the letter the rest of his life, “Never sue for libel
in a Court of Law.” By that she
meant that in affairs of honor the manly
thing was confronting the offender personally and if
possible, kill him.
In
the raw new territory of Tennessee
Jackson read and began practicing law. He also developed a reputation of
being quick to anger and as a common
tavern brawler. As he rose in the society
of Nashville, he assumed the manners
and character of a gentleman. Which meant he abandoned wrestling in
the mud, eye gouging, and trying to bite his enemy’s ear
off. Instead, he subscribed to the Code
Duello. Over the years he was in
several affairs of honor and was both shot and did the shooting.
In
one case he challenged a man who publicly asserted—truthfully—that his beloved
wife Rachel was at least an inadvertent bigamist for marrying
him before a divorce to her first husband
was final. On the field of honor
his enemy purposefully wasted his shot. In most cases the
other party would do the same and both could leave the field with
honor. But Jackson took slow and steady
aim at the defenseless man and shot him dead through the heart.
In
1813 a feud between Jackson, by then General of the Tennessee Militia and a former friend
and subordinate officer Col.
Thomas Hart Benton and his brother Jesse
erupted into a wild street fight.
As Jackson closed to kill Thomas with a brace of pistols, Jesse snuck up
behind him and shot him at point blank range in the side. A ruckus between partisans of
both sides ensued. The Benton brothers fled
town and Tennessee, although Thomas would later reconcile with the old General and become a political ally
as a Senator from Missouri. Jackson nearly bled to death and lost partial
use of his left arm. Jesse’s ball
remained lodged in his body and caused him almost constant pain
for the rest of his life.
Then,
of course, there was Jackson’s well documented heroics and adventures as an officer against Native American tribes in the Red Stick War against the Creeks, at the legendary defense of New Orleans against
the British, and finally marching through Florida in defiance of orders putting the nation at risk of a new war with Spain.
Back
at the Capitol steps, when Lawrence fired a loud pop was heard and a cloud
of black powder smoke briefly engulfed the two men. But for some reason it was just a misfire, and the ball never left the
barrel.
As
the smoke cleared the enraged 67 year old President lurched for Lawrence and
began beating him with his heavy
gold-headed cane. Lawrence
stumbled. He had trouble getting his
second pistol out of his pocket while fending off blows. When he did get it out, the second gun also
misfired. Jackson continued raining
blows on the now prostrate man until witnesses physically dragged him
away.
Jackson
was unscathed, although he didn’t realize he had not actually been shot
until he got back to the Executive
Mansion and discovered nothing more than powder burns on his clothing.
Lawrence
was taken to jail unconscious.
When he recovered he was examined by a doctor who declared that he was
suffering from “morbid delusions.”
Later
that spring Lawrence was put on trial. The prosecutor
was Francis Scott Key, better known
as the writer of the Star Spangled Banner. Lawrence was
found not guilty by
reason of insanity, one of the first such verdicts in American
history. He lived his life out in
various mental institutions until
his death in 1861.
Jackson
didn’t believe it for a second. He was
sure that Lawrence was a hireling of
his political enemies in the
emerging Whig Party or perhaps of
the bankers irate over his blocking
the renewal of the Charter of the Second Bank of the United States.
Vice President Martin Van Buren
agreed. Ever after he carried a brace of
pistols to the Capitol to fulfill his Constitutional duties of President of the Senate.
Many
historians have examined the matter,
and none have found any connection between Lawrence and Jackson’s many
enemies. That did not prevent the spread
of the first of the conspiracy theories
which seem to arise naturally from all assassinations and attempts.
Lawrence’s
pistols ended up in the Smithsonian
Institution. Around the centennial of the attack, researchers
there tested both guns to try to find out why they had misfired. Both fired perfectly on the first attempt to
shoot them. The scientists placed the
odds of both functional pistols misfiring at 1 in 250,000. Jackson was a lucky man.
Even
luckier that he did not live in the 21st
Century when his assailant might have a Glock with an extended clip. No gold headed cane would protect him from
that.
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