One of the men I occasionally met in Washington was Joseph C. McKibben, a former representative in Congress from the Pacific coast. He was thoroughly familiar with the history of California from its cession to the United States at the close of the Mexican War. He had been an active participant in many of the stirring events occurring soon after the admission of the State into the Union.
"Men, except in bad novels, are not all good, or all evil."
Colonel McKibben was the second of David C. Broderick in his
duel with Judge Terry. At the time of the duel, Broderick was a
Senator of the United States, and Terry the Chief Justice of
California. The challenge given by Terry was promptly accepted.
As will be remembered, in the encounter which immediately followed,
Terry escaped unhurt and Broderick was killed.
I recall vividly the description given me of the meeting between these men in that early Spring morning in 1859. Both possessed unquestioned courage. Their demeanor upon the field, as in deadly attitude they confronted each other a few paces apart, was that of absolute fearlessness. "Each had set his life upon a cast, and was ready to stand the hazard of the die."
Rarely have truer words been uttered than those of the gifted Baker over the dead body of Broderick:
"The code of honor is a delusion and a snare; it palters with the hope of true courage, and binds it at the feet of crafty and cruel skill. It surrounds its victim with the pomp and grace of the procession, but leaves him bleeding on the altar. It substitutes cold and deliberate preparedness for courage and manly impulse, and arms the one to disarm the other. It makes the mere trick of the weapon superior to the noblest cause and the truest courage. Its pretence of equality is a lie; it is equal in all the form, it is unjust in all the substance. The habitude of arms, the early training, the frontier life, the border war, the sectional custom, the life of leisure, all these are advantages which no negotiations can neutralize, and which no courage can overcome. Code of honor! It is a prostitution of the name, is an evasion of the substance, and is a shield blazoned with the name of chivalry to cover the malignity of murder."
The tragic ending of the eventful career of Judge Terry, which occurred within the last decade, will be readily recalled. Immediately following his assault upon Justice Field at the railway station in Lathrop, California, he was slain by a deputy United States marshal. The wife of Terry was at his side, and the scene that followed beggars description.
The name of Terry at once recalls the "Vigilance Committee" of early San Francisco days. The committee was composed largely of leading men of the "law-and-order" element of the city. Robberies and murders were of nightly occurrence, and gamblers and criminals in many instances were the incumbents of the public offices. The organization mentioned became an imperative necessity for the protection of life and property. The work of the committee constitutes one of the bloodiest chapters of early Californian history.
Nearly a third of a century ago, Colonel Thornton, a prominent lawyer of San Francisco, related to me an incident which he had witnessed during the time the famous Vigilance Committee was in complete control. A young lawyer, recently located in San Francisco, was arrested for stabbing a well-known citizen who was at the time one of the most active members of the Vigilance Committee. The name of the lawyer was David S. Terry, at a later day Chief Justice of the State. The dread tribunal was presided over by one of the most courageous and best known citizens of the Pacific coast. At a later day, his name was presented by his State to the National Convention of his party for nomination for the Vice-Presidency.
When brought before the Vigilance Committee, the demeanor of Terry was that of absolute fearlessness. Standing erect and perfectly self-possessed, he listened to the ominous words of the president: "Mr. Terry, you are charged with attempted murder; what have you to say?" Advancing a step nearer the committee "organized to convict," and in a tone that at once challenged the respect of all, Terry replied, "If your Honor please, I recognize the jurisdiction of this court, and am ready for trial." He then clearly established the fact that his assault was in self-defence, and after a masterly speech, delivered with as much self-possession as if a life other than his own trembled in the balance, was duly acquitted.