Personal reminiscences of early days in California, with other sketches

by Stephen J. Field; George C. Gorham

In half an hour afterwards Judge Mott was called upon by Mr. Charles S. Fairfax as the friend of Barbour, who stated that Barbour had been challenged by me, and that his object in calling upon Mott was to arrange the terms of a hostile meeting. Mott answered that he understood the matter somewhat differently; that the challenge, as he had been informed, came from Barbour, and that I, instead of being the challenging, was the accepting party. Fairfax, however, insisted upon his version of the affair; and upon consulting with Mott, I waived the point and accepted the position assigned me. Fairfax then stated that Barbour, being the challenged party, had the right to choose the weapons and the time and place of meeting; to all of which Mott assented. Fairfax then said that, upon consultation with his principal, he had fixed the time for that evening; the place, a room twenty feet square, describing it; the weapons, Colt's revolvers and Bowie-knives; that the two principals so armed were to be placed at opposite sides of the room with their faces to the wall; that they were to turn and fire at the word, then advance and finish the conflict with their knives. Mott answered that the terms were unusual, unprecedented, and barbarous, and that he could not consent to them. Fairfax admitted that they were so; but replied that they were those Barbour had prescribed. He would, however, see Barbour and endeavor to obtain a modification of them. Soon afterwards he reported that Barbour still insisted upon the terms first named and would not agree to any other.

When Mott reported the result of his conference with Fairfax, I at once said that Barbour was a coward and would not fight at all. I knew perfectly well that such terms could come only from a bully. I saw that it was a game of bluff he was playing. So I told Mott to accept them by all means. Mott accordingly called on Fairfax and accepted the terms as proposed, and gave notice that I would be on hand and ready at the time and place designated. This being reported to Barbour, Fairfax soon afterwards made his appearance with a message that his principal would waive the Bowie-knives; and not long afterwards he came a second time with another message that it would not do to have the fight in the room designated, because the firing would be heard outside and attract a crowd. In accordance with my instructions, Mott assented to all the modifications proposed, and it was finally agreed that the meeting should take place the next morning in Sutter County. I was to take a private conveyance, and Barbour was to take one of the two daily stages that ran to Sacramento. At a specified place we were to leave our conveyances and walk to a retired spot, which was designated, where the hostile meeting was to take place.

The next morning, accordingly, I took a carriage, and with my friend Judge Mott drove down to the appointed place. After we had been there some time the first stage appeared and stopped. Soon after the second stage appeared and stopped, and Judge Barbour and Mr. Fairfax got out. But instead of proceeding to the designated place, Barbour declared that he was a judicial officer, and as such could not engage in a duel. At the same time he would take occasion to say that he would protect himself, and, if assaulted, would kill the assailant. With these words, leaving Fairfax standing where he was, he walked over to the first stage, and mounting rode on to Sacramento. Seeing Fairfax standing alone on the ground I sent word to him that I would be happy to give him a place in my carriage—an invitation which he accepted, and we then drove to Nicolaus, where we breakfasted, and thence returned to Marysville.[1]

The conduct of Barbour on the ground, after his fierce and savage terms at the outset, produced a great deal of merriment and derision; and some very sharp squibs appeared in the newspapers. One of them gave him great annoyance, and he inquired for its author. I told the editor of the paper in which it appeared that if it was necessary to protect the writer, to give my name, although I did not write it, or know beforehand that it was to be written.

On the following morning, whilst in front of my office gathering up kindling-wood for a fire, and having my arms full—for each man was his own servant in those days—Barbour came up and, placing a cocked navy revolver near my head, cried out, "Draw and defend yourself." As I had not observed his approach I was taken by surprise, but turning on him I said, "You infernal scoundrel, you cowardly assassin—you come behind my back and put your revolver to my head and tell me to draw; you haven't the courage to shoot; shoot and be damned." There were at least ten witnesses of this scene; and it was naturally supposed that having advanced so far he would go farther; but as soon as he found I was not frightened, he turned away and left me. It is impossible to express the contempt I felt for him at that moment for his dastardly conduct, a feeling which the spectators shared with me, as they have since often stated.[2]

I do not give these details as having any importance in themselves; but they illustrate the semi-barbarous condition of things in those early days, and by comparison show out of what our existing condition has been evolved, and how far we have advanced. I give them also for the reason that Barbour afterwards wrote a letter to Turner, which the latter published, referring to the affair, in which he boasted of having given me a "whipping." How far his boast was warranted the above facts show.

For a long time afterwards he expressed his bitterness towards me in every possible way. He did not take Turner's plan of expelling me from the bar; but he manifested his feelings by adverse rulings. In such cases, however, I generally took an appeal to the Supreme Court, and in nearly all of them procured a reversal. The result was that he suddenly changed his conduct and commenced ruling the other way. While this was his policy, there was hardly any position I could take in which he did not rule in my favor. At last I became alarmed lest I should lose my cases in the appellate court by winning them before him.

About a year afterwards he sent one of his friends to ask me if I was willing to meet him half-way—stating that my conduct in court had always been courteous, and he was satisfied that he had done me injustice. I answered that I was always willing to meet any one half-way, but in this case it must be without explanations for the past. This condition was accepted; accordingly we met, and taking a glass of wine, I said, "Here is to an act of oblivion, but no explanations." For a long time no allusion was made by either to the old difficulties. But at last he insisted upon telling me how tales had been brought to him, and how they exasperated him; and he expressed great regret for what had taken place; and to make amends, as far as he was able, for what he had written about me, he sent me the following letter:

"MARYSVILLE, Dec. 22, 1856.
"Hon. S.J. FIELD.

"DEAR SIR: On yesterday I learned through our mutual friend Charles S. Fairfax, Esq., that Judge W.R. Turner has recently issued a publication which contains a letter of mine, written him some four years ago. I have not been able to procure a copy of this publication, and I have entirely forgotten the language used; in truth I do not remember to have written him on the subject of yourself or otherwise; but I suppose I must have done so, and have given expressions of opinion that I have long since ceased to entertain, and to invectives that I have no disposition to justify. You will recall that, at the time referred to, there unfortunately existed between us feelings of deep hostility; and I may at the time have used harsh terms indicative of my then feelings, which I regret and do not now approve, if they are as represented by others."