University of Virginia Library

Tragedy Of Calhoun

By Robert Rosen

Journalists are always babbling
about the "consolation" of American
history, and I cannot bring
myself to dream up a fitting argument
against the habit, so I suppose
I will just have to adopt it. Consolation,
however, cannot be had from
all of American history, unless it's
the consolation of knowing that it
is over. Consolation surely cannot
be had by contemplating John
Caldwell Calhoun.

I am a defender of Calhoun's.
There is a portrait of the man in my
room. I am expecting a framed
autograph for my birthday. I am, in
short, a member of that school that
holds Calhoun to be more than
merely a great man. (The school,
unfortunately, is composed mainly
of South Carolina females over fifty
years of age and members of the
D.A.R.) I think he has been dealt
with unfairly, generally, by American
historians. My neighbor, Professor
Mayo constantly refers to him as
the "cast-iron man." Historians
with a sense of humor usually
quote the old Charleston pleasantry
that Calhoun once began a love
poem "Whereas."

In Character

Significantly, I almost believe
Calhoun may have actually done
precisely that. It certainly would
have been in character, for the man
was above all else. - statesman,
diplomat, Christian, human being -
he was above all else, a Legalist.
And this was his tragedy.

Calhoun is a symbolic figure: he
represents in some hazy fashion the
absurd logical conclusion of the
legalist frame of mind which haunts
American history. We are a people,
more so than the ancient Jews, of
the Book. We are a people, more so
than the British, of the Law. Calhoun
impaled himself on the sword
of "justice and law." He was never
wrong. His frame of mind could
lead him to write, after finishing an
essay on nullification, it "will forever
settle the question, at least, as
far as reason has anything to do
with setting political questions."

The tragedy of Calhoun is the
larger tragedy of America: means,
the law, somehow get confuse; with
ends, human beings. Calhoun, I
believe, was not so much interested
in human beings as he was in
legalisms. Law and philosophical order,
political metaphysics, these
were the final judges. The tragedy
of Calhoun is instructive for those
of us today whose minds are so
immersed in legalisms that the effect,
in the end, is one of confusing
ends and means.

Law And Order

Callioun today would, I am confidant,
be unable to deal with the
issues of "Law and Order" or "reverse
discrimination." He would be
unable because his great mind
would be hamstrung by the reality
of contradictions. Like all of us he
would be immersed in pseudo constitutional
dilemmas. Black admissions
to the University of Virgina,
to take a local, contemporary
example, is debated with all the
fury of a legalist debate which, like
Calhoun's inner debates, center not
around human values but legal
values, not around ends, but means.
What is the end of an admissions
policy? What kind of University are
we interested in building? How are
we willing to go about securing
ends that differ from the status
quo? These are questions humanists
would ask. Legalists only wish to
avoid charges of "reverse discrimination."
The character of the University,
its social uses are not placed
before the bar. The message of
Calhoun is more relevant here today
than we may suppose.

Human beings are the ends that
laws, the means, are devised to
serve. If "reverse discrimination" is
not necessary to compensate for
decades of illegality, let us proceed
with careful deliberation and with
all "deliberate speed."

Calhoun stands as a symbol of
the tragedy of men who refuse to
understand that lesson.