Death of Cilley, The (The Duelist)

DESCRIPTION: "Hark! Didst though hear that startling shriek, That agonizing yell? Which bathed in tears the widow's cheek, When murdered Cilley fell?" "O tell it not in Askelon... What deeds are done in Washington." "The duellist... Must stand condemned...."
AUTHOR: unknown
EARLIEST DATE: 1958 (Burt-AmericanMurderBallads)
KEYWORDS: homicide political
HISTORICAL REFERENCES:
Feb 24, 1838 - Jonathan Cilley, a Maine congressman, killed in a duel with Kentucky Representative William Graves
FOUND IN: US
REFERENCES (1 citation):
Burt-AmericanMurderBallads, p. 256, "The Duellist, or The Death of Cilley" (1 excerpted text)
NOTES [3712 words]: There is a book about this event, Roger Ginn, New England Must Not Be Trampled On: The Tragic Death of Jonathan Cilley, 2016, here cited as Ginn. It is apparently the only full-length work ever written about Cilley; the only previous biography was a short, contemporary one by none other than Nathaniel Hawthorne. Seitz's book about duels is mostly about the duel itself (and even that often from poor sources).
Hawthorne described Cilley in his American Notebooks: ""He is a singular man, shrewd, crafty, insinuating, with wonderful tact, seizing on each man by his maneagable point, and using them for his own purposes, often without the man suspecting that he is being made a tool of; and yet... his conversation... was full of natural feeling" (quoted on p. 124 of Ginn). Perhaps that description should be kept in mind in assessing what follows.
Ginn, p. 1, opens his account with this introduction:
"On a damp cold Saturday afternoon, February 24, 1838, Jonathan Cilley, a thirty-five-year-old first term Maine Democrat in the U.S. House of Representatives, was killed in a duel on a field outside Washington, D.C., by a Whig congressman from Kentucky, thirty-two-year-old William Graves. While in the 1800s duels were not uncommon, particularly in the South, this duel grabbed national headlines. The political press talked of plots and conspiracies. It brought out, mostly in the Northern press, a cry for the abolishment of thase so-called 'affairs of honor.'"
It's a little ironic that Cilley, a supporter of that famous duelist Andrew Jackson, was killed in a duel with a Whig. But you could argue that that's what happens when you have a political duel. According to Ginn, p. 4, Cilley and Graves had no particular personal animus. It arose out of the relationships between their congressional colleagues and their political conflicts.
Cilley was born in Nottingham, New Hampshire on July 2, 1892; he was the sixth child and fourth son of Greenlead Cilley and Jane Nealley Cilley (Ginn, p. 7). His grandfather Joseph Cilley (1734-1799) had fought as an enlisted man in the French and Indian War (Ginn, p. 8), then as an officer in the American Revolution, eventually reaching the rank of colonel; he went on to be a major general of the New Hampshire militia (Ginn, p. 15' O'Brien, p. 106). But Joseph died before Jonathan was born. Jonathan's father Greenleaf died when Jonathan was only five or six (Ginn, p. 19), and by the time he reached his teens, two of his brothers were dead and the third crippled in the War of 1812 (Ginn, pp. 20-21) -- but, fortunately, an uncle helped pay his way to a college preparatory boarding school, where he studied what we would now probably call "classics" (Ginn, p. 24). Oddly, rather than go to Harvard or Dartmouth, he decided to go to Bowdoin College (Ginn, p. 25).
Bowdoin was then a very small place, but those who attended the school while Cilley was there were distinguished, including Calvin Stowe (the future husband of Harriet Beecher Stowe), future Senator William Pitt Fessenden who was Abraham Lincoln's second Treasury Secretary; future President Franklin Pierce, and Nathaniel Hawthorne (Holt, p. 7). Indeed, according to Ginn, p. 29, Cilley first arrived at Bowdoin in a carriage that he shared with Pierce and Hawthorne! In the time between his studies, Cilley taught school to raise money for his education (Ginn, p. 36). Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was also there for part of this time. Even in this distinguished company, Cilley managed to be phi beta kappa (Ginn, p. 38). He would eventually name his third child "Bowdoin" (Ginn, p. 87).
Curiously, for a future Jacksonian Democrat, two theses he wrote for commencement both betray a distrust of ordinary people, who have to be guided by fiction and ridicule rather than facts (Ginn, pp. 40-41).
After graduation, he decided to study law with a Maine law firm, under a man who would soon become Speaker of the Maine House of Representatives (Ginn, p. 48); this is how he came to move from New Hampshire to Thomaston, Maine (Ginn, pp. 42-44); it was on his trip there that he met the woman who became his wife (Ginn, p. 44).
I can't say that I think much of his opinions; he publicly supported the argument that "women's mental capacities were not equal to those of men" (Ginn, p. 50). He more or less dodged the question of slavery -- at a time when the South was demanding more Northern recognition of slavery, he went along with Maine's declaration that the issue was, in effect, not their problem (Ginn, p. 115). But, like Andrew Jackson (who was a slaveholder who won his fame murdering and deporting Indians), his opinions of Blacks and Indians were vile -- he called for a genocide of the Seminoles (Ginn, p. 138). On the other hand, he came to oppose the death penalty (Ginn, p. 112), which was a rare and unusually humanitarian opinion at the time.
One might question his morals, too -- he married his wife on April 4, 1829, on short notice, and their son Greenleaf was born on October 27 of that year (Ginn, p. 60). He went into legal practice himself around this time, fathered a daughter Jane in 1831, and was active on behalf of Jackson and the Democrats (Ginn, p. 61).
In 1831, his mentor John Ruggles left the Maine House of Representatives to become a judge, and Cilley was elected to his place (Ginn, p. 62). Curiously, Ruggles by 1832 was vigorously opposing Cilley's reelection (Ginn, p. 65); Maine's Democratic party was internally divided, and Ruggles didn't think Cilley sufficiently loyal. Cilley's re-election contest was disputed, and although Cilley had the plurality in several election re-runs (not re-counts; they actually held new elections), the legislature in Augusta eventually set him aside (Ginn, p. 78).
Reading Ginn's description of the political wranglings of the period (e.g. pp. 83-85), it sounds as if Cilley did not like contradiction and never ran away from a disagreement. He nonetheless managed to win another legislative term -- and the Democratic Caucus responded with a move to expel him, though they couldn't kick him out of the legislature this time (Ginn, p. 91).
Meanwhile, his son Bowdoin died at the age of nine months, and his wife started showing signs of depression and religious hysteria (Ginn, p. 100; it sounds as if Cilley, while trying to be supportive, in fact gave his wife terrible advice -- and he stayed in the legislative session rather than supporting her).
The 1835 legislative session was probably the turning point in Cilley's career. The man who was chosen Speaker for that session later resigned to take another job, and Cilley was chosen (Ginn, pp. 107-109); I would guess that the opposition of the Ruggles faction actually helped him in that regard.
Cilley's ambition shows in the fact that, after a relatively short time in the legislature and while still quite young, he turned his attention for a run for the U. S. House (Ginn, p. 115). He ran, moreover, shortly after his daughter Jane died (Ginn, p. 119) -- can't let little things like family life interfere with one's quest for power! The seat he ran for wasn't quite an open seat, but in the previous term, the Democratic incumbent had given it up, to be replaced by a Whig named Jeremiah Bailey (Ginn, p. 116), so the seat was probably quite vulnerable to being flipped.
In the 1836 election, Cilley earned 49.66% of the vote. Since Maine at that time required the winner earn at least 50% of the vote, he found himself in a runoff with Bailey. That forced a second round -- and again Cilley won the plurality but not a majority (Ginn, pp. 119-120). Finally, on February 7, 1837, he achieved an outright majority and became a congressman-elect (Ginn, p. 123).
Cilley did not move his family to Washington (at the time, when the congress met for relatively short periods, this was fairly normal); he lived in a boarding house along with Franklin Pierce and others (Ginn, p. 126). He was not to spend much time there; toward the end of the (special) session, he lad the seeds for his later troubles, talking on the floor of the House about an (unreliable) newspaper's charges of corruption against an unnamed Congressman, who later turned out to be his mentor/enemy Ruggles (Ginn, p. 143).
Cilley did not name the newspaper or its editor, but the paper was the New York Courier and Enquirer, one of the leading Whig papers, and the editor was J. Watson Webb (Seitz, p. 251. Cilley had a point about Webb's paper; it was a hyper-partisan Whig publication that sounds as if it would print anything as long as it was anti-Jacksonian Democrat; cf. Seitz, pp. 286-287). Webb wrote an inquiry to Cilley, asking if he were the editor meant and, if so, demanding "the explanation which the character of your remarks renders necessary" (quoted on p 148 of Ginn and p. 254 of Seitz).
Apparently Webb's words were not an actual demand for satisfaction, but it's obvious that they could be interpreted that way, particularly if a third party passed them on. And Webb had no way to get his letter to Cilley. He went to the Capital, and instead of finding Congressman Cilley, he met several others who refused to pass on his challenge (Seitz, p. 252). He then encountered Congressman Graves.
William J. Graves was also new to Washington, if not quite so new; the Kentuckian was born in 1805, became a lawyer, entered the Kentucky house in 1833, and was elected to congress in 1834 (Ginn, p. 116-117). Thus, like Cilley, he was a man intent on rising the political ladder quickly. (He wasn't entirely successful; he only served three terms, not running for re-election after the duel. He never held elective office again, dying of bladder cancer in 1844; Ginn, p. 223).
Graves didn't particularly want to deliver Webb's message, given its harshness, but Webb assured Graves that he wasn't challenging Cilley to a duel (Ginn, p. 148). So Graves, probably reluctantly, agreed to deliver it. He found Cilley and handed over the note.
Cilley, being the man he was, refused to accept the note (and went to Franklin Pierce for advice, which, given Pierce's lack of brains, strikes me as utterly idiotic). Suddenly, as well as Webb having been insulted, Graves was in an uncomfortable situation, since Cilley was refusing to respect Graves's willingness to help Webb (Ginn, pp. 147-148). Graves in turn went for advice to a man known for duels and brawling, Congressman Henry A. Wise (GInn, pp. 150-151), later Governor of Virginia and a Confederate general (Seitz, p. 282). Wise thought Graves had made a mistake in getting involved but that he couldn't back out now. Graves and Cilley met again, with Graves asking Cilley to put his position in writing (Ginn, p. 151). This turned into an exchange of notes, each cranking up the pressure somewhat (Seitz, pp. 255-256; Ginn, pp. 152-153). The last from Graves ended "A categorical answer is expected" (Ginn, p. 155).
Cllley felt that that showed a "lack of respect" (Ginn, p. 156). He also thought there were people behind Graves who were pushing the quarrel. So he wrote, "I regret that m[y note] of yesterday was not satisfactory to you, but I cannot admit the right on your part to propound the question to which you ask a categorical answer, and therefore decline any further response to it" (Ginn, p. 157). Those, obviously, were fighting words -- and Cilley knew it and was aware of the possibility of a challenge. Which is just what he got. Graves started working on it as soon as he received the note, although he talked to Wise before issuing it (Ginn, p. 158). Even before receiving the challenge, Cilley borrowed a rifle from his friend Senator Alexander Duncan and started practicing with it (Ginn, p. 159); apparently he had some trouble with it at first. (Cilley apparently said that his eyesight wasn't very good -- Ginn, p. 161 -- which makes you wonder why, since he would have the choice of weapons, he chose a long-range weapon.)
If I understand Ginn correctly, Cilley and Graves, or their allies, apparently both thought the other was engaged in a conspiracy to entrap him. But Cilley also thought that it was simply a show and would only last one round (Ginn, p. 162).
It took some hours for the challenge to reach Cilley, as other parties tried to keep both men safe. But eventually Graves decided on his wording and gave it to Wise to deliver to Cilley: "Washington City, February 23, 1838... [Graves reiterates his complaint], I am left with no alternative but to ask that satisfaction which is recognized among gentlemen. My friend, Honorable Henry A. Wise, is authorized by me to make the arrangements suitable for the occasion. Your obedient servant, W. J. Graves" (Ginn, pp. 162-163).
Cilley chose to face off with rifles at eighty yards, apparently because he had never before used a pistol (Ginn, p.166. Perhaps we should remind ourselves that these were 1830s rifles, with a very slow load time). Because Cilley was in a hurry to get it over with, he called for the duel to be the next day at noon, with the place to be determined by their negotiators (Ginn, pp. 166-167). Wise called the choice of rifles "unusual and objectionable" (Ginn, p. 168), but agreed, and he and other friends of Graves went off to find a weapon (Graves did not own a rifle; Seitz, p. 259) ; the one they found was old and cranky, but they got it working (Ginn, p. 169. Apparently Cilley's people had offered to find them a rifle, but the Graves group didn't trust them to supply a good one; Ginn, p. 173).
The Cilley/Graves duel was not the first between congressmen -- indeed, not the first in the 1830s; Whig Daniel Jenifer and Democrat Jesse D. Bynum had a duel in June 1836, although neither was injured (Ginn, p. 118). As early as 1819, Virginia Senator Armistead T. Mason had been killed in a duel, although his opponent was not a member of the federal legislature (Seitz, p. 281).
Graves had Wise as his second. Cilley's second was also called a General on p. 253 of Seitz, but this appears to be an error for "Surveyor-General"; he was George Wallace Jones of Wisconsin (a man who in later years was himself suspected of Confederate sympathies). Cilley apparently had had some trouble finding a second; he didn't want Pierce to do it, and Pierce had a hard time finding anyone else with appropriate experience; Jones consented only because no one else was at all qualified (Ginn, pp. 164-165).
There was quite a witness list (as there had to be at these things, to prevent murder charges) -- on Cilley's side, Senator Duncan, Congressman Bynum (the guy involved in that 1836 duel, note), and others; on Graves's, Congressmen Richard H. Menifee and John Calhoun (no, not that Calhoun -- this one was from Kentucky). Each side had its own doctor, although Graves's was one he didn't know well (Ginn, p. 175).
Neither man's wife was present. Cilley's wife was still in Maine, but Graves's wife was in Washington -- and he hadn't told her about it! When she realized what was going on, she got warrants to stop the fight, and went out to try to find the combatants -- but they had left the District of Columbia and managed to find a remote spot in Maryland to prevent interference (Ginn 176-177).
The duel went three rounds, with hectic negotiations between the combatants' parties between rounds. There is some disagreement about what was said (Seitz, pp. 262-263); it sounds as if everyone was seeking a face-saving way out, but the sort of tragic miscommunication which led to the duel in the first place seems to have persisted as the seconds tried to work things out.
The rules that had been set required the combatants to wait until the word "fire" was called, but they had to fire by the count of four after that, or not fire. Thus both were under pressure to aim and fire quickly. On the first round, Cilley fired quickly and into the ground; Graves missed (Ginn, p. 178). A half hour argument followed between the observers about whether Graves had had satisfaction. Ginn, p. 179, thinks that Wise could have agreed that he had, but being the prickly character that he was, he instead allowed the duel to continue. So they had a second round. Graves goofed up his shot (and thought he should have another chance); Cilley just missed (Ginn, p. 179). So the arguments began again; once again, there was no resolution, though everyone began to discuss the idea of having the two move closer if they did not have a hit on the third round.
Before the third round could take place, the owner of the place they had appropriated showed up and ordered the duelists off his land. This, of course, was his right -- but they told him to get out of the way and threatened to kill him (Ginn, p. 182). So the third round went ahead. Cilley missed again -- and Graves hit Cilley on the left side just below the rib cage. He cried out, "I am shot" and fell. It is believed the bullet had crushed one of the major blood vesels; Cilley was dead in a minute or two. To continue the illegalities, his body was not taken to a coroner but to his home and left on the floor of his room still in its blood! (Ginn, pp. 182-183).
The seconds, Jones and Wise, worked together to write an account of what had happened (Ginn, p. 185). Cilley's body was displayed in the Capitol rotunda; most of the ceremonies took place before his wife could even arrive in Washington (Ginn, p. 187).
The shock to Deborah Cilley was severe, of course -- so severe that the local minister's wife felt the need to write to Graves about it (Ginn, p. 193), though I can't imagine that accomplished anything even if Graves got the letter. Graves himself would later say that he didn't believe in dueling, clling it an "antisocial and unchristian practice" (Ginn, p. 200) -- which makes you wonder why he didn't try for a better answer!
Ginn, p. 212, declares that "Jonathan's untimely death was truly a tragedy," but I am not sure I agree. I can't see any sign that his presence in Washington accomplished much. He was a bigot, and excessively ambitious, and too proud for his own good; he almost forced Graves into a duel, and paid for it. But, obviously, it is rarely constructive for congressmen to go around shooting each other!
In the aftermath, the House passed a resolution calling for an investigation into ways to clamp down on dueling; that eminent Jacksonian, Speaker of the House James K. Polk (later the country's most expansionist president) named a committee of seven (Seitz, p. 274). Four of them eventually submitted a report asking that Graves be expelled from the house and that Wise and one other be censured (Seitz, pp.-274 275). This resolution failed (Seitz, p. 277). They did manage to pass a ban on dueling in the District of Columbia (Seitz, pp. 279-280), though it's hard to believe it made any difference. A few other states also passed laws; in New York, the only one to suffer, according to Seitz, p. 281, was none other than J. Watson Webb, whose paper published the item that started the whole Cilley/Graves affair. (Everyone in congress apparently agreed that Webb's behavior was reprehensible, but since he wasn't a member, they couldn't punish him; Ginn, p. 199.)
Cilley's widow Deborah Prince Cilley was left with three children, eight, two, and two months, and ended up having to teach school to survive; the government apparently did not give her any assistance. She died six years later of tuberculosis (Ginn, p.219).
The special election to fill Cilley's seat was a rebuke to his memory, or at least to Jacksonian Democrats; Cilley, as we saw, had barely won the seat, but in the election to replace him, the Whig, Edward Robinson, took 4113 votes, Democrat John D. McCrate took 3420, and a Whig splinter candidate took 497 (Seitz, p. 279). Thus where Democrat Cilley had barely won the district as a Democrat, in 1838, a Whig won a clear majority even with a second Whig candidate in the race! Of course, a lot of that was due to the Panic of 1837; the result was a portent of what would happen to the Democrats in the elections of 1838 and 1840, which saw the (obviously temporary) sweeping aside of the Democrats. Robinson would not retain the seat after the next election (Ginn, p. 195).
There is a monument to Cilley in Thomaston, a small town on the east coast. You can see it on Google Maps at Thomaston Village Cemetary, Thomaston, ME (24 Erin St, Thomaston, ME, seems to get you closest; it's on the far side of the road from the white house that they show you in Street View), but I had to get the text from findagrave.com:
----
HON. JONATHAN CILLEY
July 2, 1802-Feb. 24, 1838
Bowdoin 1825
Member of 25th Congress
"New England Must Not Be Trampled On"
DEBORAH PRINCE
July 6, 1808-Aug 14, 1844
WIFE OF JONATHAN
----
Their second surviving son Jonathan Prince Cilley is said by Seitz, p. 282, to have been a Civil War general, but this is not correct although it contains a germ of truth. Cilley was Lieutenant Colonel of the 1st Maine Cavalry regiment. He was *breveted* a brigadier general (Phisterer, p. 293, #1483). A brevet promotion to brigadier meant that Cilley was... a lieutenant colonel. The brevet didn't even make him senior to other lieutenant colonels. In the American army of the time, a brevet promotion was an honor, but a purely symbolic one (one source I read said that brevet promotions were what the army used before it came up with medals). What's more, the brevet was awarded on June 2, 1865, so the war was over anyway; Cilley would not have served in combat under his new (non-)rank.
Cavalry service was easier than infantry during the Civil War, but Cilley did at least fight: The 1st Maine, e.g., fought in J. I. Gregg's brigade of D. M. Gregg's division of the cavalry at Gettysburg; it was one of the units that kept "Jeb" Stuart's cavalry from attacking the Union rear on the third day. The Wikipedia article on the 1st Maine Cavalry (the longest Wikipedia article I've ever seen on a Civil War regiment) mentions Cilley only twice, but one of those mentions is to state that Cilley (then a captain and company commander) took a severe wound. According to Ginn, p. 219, he suffered three wounds in all. He would live until 1920.
The song's mention of Askelon and Gath is a reference to 2 Samuel 1:20, David's lament over Saul. - RBW
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