Signing Their Rights Away (28 page)

Eventually, Blount made his way home to Tennessee, where he remained as popular as ever. So much so that, when the impeachment trial was about to begin, the Senate was forced to send a sergeant at arms down to Knoxville to arrest the wily fugitive and
drag him back to Philadelphia; Blount wined him, dined him, and declined him. He hired attorneys—including his fellow Constitution signer Jared Ingersoll—to represent him at the trial, but the Senate ended up dismissing all charges.

Though Blount was the first person ever impeached in the United States, his popularity at home remained intact, and he served in the Tennessee legislature until his death, in 1800, at age fifty. Today you can visit his stately home, Blount Mansion, in Knoxville, Tennessee.

The
Other
Signer Who Died in a Duel

BORN
: March 25, 1758

DIED
: September 6, 1802

AGE AT SIGNING
: 29

PROFESSION
: Planter, politician

BURIED
: Clermont Estate Cemetery, New Bern, North Carolina

Richard Dobbs Spaight was a true son of North Carolina. Of the five men sent to represent the Tar Heel State at the Constitutional Convention, only two had been born there. William Blount was the scoundrel. Spaight was the hero—a man the people would someday elevate to the office of governor. And, like many storied sons of the South, he died a tragic if honorable death.

Spaight was born in the coastal town of New Bern, North Carolina. His mother, Margaret Dobbs, was the sister of the royal governor, and his wealthy planter father, Richard, was the governor’s secretary. One by one they all died—the governor, his sister, and her husband—and the poor little rich kid was shipped off to Great Britain by his guardians. When the Revolutionary War broke out, young
Spaight was studying at the University of Glasgow, but upon graduation he made the trek back home to serve on the patriot side as an administrative officer to the North Carolina militia. He fought in the battle of Camden, South Carolina, a major defeat for the colonies, and achieved the rank of lieutenant colonel. Blessed with youth, looks, wealth, and a fine war record, he went into local politics and was sent to Congress at the end of the war. Spaight, who owned seventy-one slaves, drew Thomas Jefferson’s ire when he worked to kill a bill that would have ended slavery in the western half of the growing nation. Jefferson never forgave him and would later speak of him as the man who let slavery spread westward. Before the age of thirty, Spaight was speaker of his state legislature, a post that sent him to the Constitutional Convention.

Like many of the delegates, Spaight was an aristocrat and had little faith in the common people to elect their leaders; he also suggested that the president and senators each serve seven years, an idea that was quickly nixed. (U.S. presidents are elected for terms of four years, senators for six.) But when he suggested that senators be chosen by state legislatures, the convention seized upon the idea. And that was how senators were chosen until 1913, when the Seventeenth Amendment was adopted and provided for them to be elected directly by the American people. Spaight also wanted the president to be chosen by Congress, an idea borrowed from the Virginia Plan. The framers, generally fearful of mob rule, tended toward inserting checks into the system to correct for a bad popular decision. Hence, they created an electoral college, which would be based on a proportion of the popular vote, to select the president. Spaight never missed a session of the convention and signed the Constitution on September 17.

But for almost two years North Carolina waffled on ratifying the document. To bring about resolution, Spaight convinced his friend George Washington to visit and use his considerable influence to sway votes. Spaight himself probably would have spent more time
campaigning for ratification, but he was forced to take a breather from politicking because of poor health. No one knows what ailed him. He was only twenty-nine when the convention concluded and may have suffered from a disease, congenital defect, or health condition not identifiable by medical techniques of the day. He tried traveling to the West Indies to recuperate but returned home by 1792, when he was elected to be his state’s first locally born governor. An honest, conscientious leader, he moved the state capital to Raleigh and was instrumental in the founding of the university at Chapel Hill. When his term ended in 1795, the thirty-seven-year-old former governor married Mary Leach, a Yankee woman from Pennsylvania. They had three children.

For the next few years, Spaight tried his best to stay active in state and national politics, but his mysterious health issues continued to interfere. He was elected to the House of Representatives for one term, and then a second, but was forced to take leaves of absence. He finally threw in the towel in 1801, after supporting Thomas Jefferson for president. He resigned himself to staying close to home in the state senate. His Federalist opponent, John Stanly, who landed the seat Spaight vacated in Congress, proceeded to badmouth his predecessor. Spaight was not sickly, Stanly claimed, but had merely used his health as an excuse to avoid taking a stand on controversial issues. The ailing Spaight—he of the perfect convention attendance—defended himself with angry handbills distributed to voters.

The situation got ugly and ended with the two men meeting at dawn with pistols drawn. Although today duels may seem like a foolish way to settle an argument, in colonial times they were a handy means of preventing a disagreement from blossoming into an all-out feud between families. Duels also preserved men’s honor. If they showed up, fired their pistols, and made it obvious they didn’t want to kill anyone, they could emerge with their reputations intact.

But sometimes the duelers were out for blood—and such was the case when Spaight met Stanly in New Bern, North Carolina.

Spaight’s biographers claim that he was so sickly he could barely hold his pistol. He was no match for the healthier Stanly, who fired four shots, hitting his opponent with his last round. Spaight died the next day, leaving behind his wife and children. He was only forty-four years old. Stanly faced a murder rap but was pardoned by the governor. All told, three significant founding fathers lost their lives in duels: Button Gwinnett, a Georgia signer of the Declaration of Independence; Alexander Hamilton; and the little-known Spaight.

The late governor was buried on the grounds of his mother-in-law’s 2,500-acre estate, Clermont. Unfortunately, Union soldiers plundered and burned the plantation house to the ground in 1862. According to local legend, Yankee looters also desecrated Spaight’s grave; they stole his casket, spilled his skeleton onto the ground, and hung his skull on the gatepost. His coffin was allegedly used to ship the body of a Union soldier back north. Today the family plot, which contains the graves of eleven Spaight family members, is located on a lonely country road—and is enclosed on all sides by a tall brick wall and a heavy iron gate.

The Signer Who Believed in Aliens

BORN
: December 5, 1735

DIED
: May 22, 1815