Andrew Jackson’s Rise From Dirt-Poor Orphan to American Powerhouse

And we return to our American stories. Even today, officials in Kentucky must swear under oath before taking office that they have not participated, in any way, shape, or form, in a societal relic commonly associated with our nation’s seventh president. We’re, of course, talking about a duel. Here to tell the story of Andrew Jackson and his dueling is Keith Hardison, the former director of interpretation at the Hermitage in Nashville, Tennessee. Take it away.

Keith. Jackson was not born an aristocrat. In fact, was born the child of Scotch-Irish immigrants. He was orphaned by fourteen and then became arguably, if not America’s first rags-to-riches story, America’s best-known early rags-to-riches story. And those who were in the aristocratic class understood and supported concept of dueling themselves. Dueling is an interesting phenomenon that sort of peaked in America between around seventeen fifty and eighteen fifty. It came out of what’s called a code of honor that evolved in Europe. Some people will trace this back to a document called the Code Duello, which supposedly was put together by representatives from several areas in Ireland. The fact of the matter is there been some question as to whether that document is as old as it was supposed to be. But what we do know is that back as far as the Middle Ages, there was a form of dueling practiced by the upper classes in Great Britain, France; there was some in Germany, and the thing that was most important was honor. In fact, someone remarked that it was better to die with honor than to live without it. Jackson was not as big a dueler as many people think. In fact, as far as a bona fide duel that went by basically the Code of Honor, were only two. And then there were two others that basically ended up in glorified brawls. For instance, the first of those was with Tennessee Governor John Sevier, of whom he was a political opponent. This occurred in eighteen oh three, and Jackson challenged Sevier to a duel, and they went back and forth, and finally they were going to have one. And going to the place of duel, it became a fight on the road. Sevier claimed the horse ran off of his pistols and so forth. So it ended up almost comical in a way. An earlier one than that was in seventeen eighty-eight. That’s Jackson’s first duel with Waightstill Avery. It was an attorney in a court case, and he made remarks in the course of this case that were very unkind of unflattering to Jackson. Jackson took an insult. He was a young lawyer. Challenged him then and there to a duel. They went out just outside of town in Jonesboro, Tennessee. Jackson’s combatant fired his pistol into the air, and Jackson chose not to press it, and so the duel was over. Nobody was shot, and nobody was shot at, but everybody had upheld their honor, and that was the big thing: “Has my honor been satisfied?” Eighteen oh six is the most famous duel, and that is the Dickinson duel. Started initially over a horse race, and it didn’t directly involve Dickinson, except that Dickinson was Captain Irwin’s son. Captain Irwin pulled his horse from the race, and everybody had agreed not only that if either one of them pulled their horse for any reason, then they had to pay a forfeiture fee of eight hundred dollars. And at that time there was a plethora of various banknotes that sort of thing, and Jackson was very specific. There was an agreement on what type of banknotes could and could not be used in payment of a forfeiture fee. So the result is that there was bickering over that payment, and eventually it was paid, but not in notes to Jackson’s satisfaction. He raised an issue about that, felt like Irwin was not dealing with him in an upright manner, and so his son-in-law, who was Charles Dickinson, got involved on his father-in-law’s side. And there are several things that have been alleged, but what we do know for sure is that both verbally and in writing in the Nashville paper, Dickinson called Jackson a poltroon in a coward. Jackson took umbrage; his honor had been challenged. Because when your honor is challenged and you do not respond, then people assume one of two things in this Code of Honor system: number one, that you’re guilty as charged, or number two, you don’t have the intestinal fortitude to defend your own honor, either of which is detrimental. And so Jackson challenges Dickinson to a duel; Dickinson readily accepts. Dickinson is considered—he’s an up-and-coming attorney in Nashville, got roots back in Maryland, and he is considered by many to be the best shot in the state of Tennessee. Probably he was, but Jackson feels like he really has no choice, and the two are to go over just over the Tennessee line in Kentucky on the appointed day. On the way, Charles boasted that he was going to kill Jackson, and even folks placed bets on it. On the field of honor that day they met. The plan was this: Jackson was to intentionally, after the order the fire was given, was to hold his fire, thinking that Dickinson, being younger and more brash, more confident, would take a quick shot and perhaps miss. Now, that’s quite gambled. That’s what happened. Now, the bullet that went into Jackson shattered two ribs and lodged near his heart. But Jackson doesn’t let on that he’s been hit. He just grits his teeth and takes it. Now, Dickinson, when he fired and didn’t see Jackson fall, was totally confused. And he said, “My God, have I missed him? I don’t miss. I don’t get this.” Then Jackson takes his time, aims his pistol, fires, and as he pulls the trigger, it hangs on half-cock, so the hammer doesn’t go all the way down. Jackson pulls it back, aims again, and fires into Dickinson. Dickinson bled out by the end of the day. As Jackson walks off the field, a surgeon that Jackson had brought a lot thoughtfully so noticed blood pulling in one of Jackson’s shoes and asks, “Have you been hit?” Jackson makes the comment, “I think I’ve been pinked”—the I-N-K-E-D—”I think I’ve been pinked a little,” and the doctor then discovers for the first time that Jackson really has been hit and it’s a serious wound. Ultimately, Jackson would survive. I would not say he recovered because the wound never properly healed, and since the ball had lodged about an inch from his heart, the doctors were afraid to remove it because if they missed, they were going to puncture his heart and he was going to be dead for sure. And so the bullet never was removed. In fact, it is in his body in the coffin in the presidential tomb here at the Hermitage.

And a terrific job on the production, editing, and storytelling by our own Monty Montgomery and Caleb Robinson, and special thanks to Keith Hardison, former director of interpretation at the Hermitage. And this, of course, happened—this Dickinson duel—in eighteen oh six. In eighteen oh four, Alexander Hamilton lost his life in Weehawken, New Jersey, in a duel with Aaron Burr. You would have thought that would have ended the whole dueling thing, but this is how deeply embedded into the honor culture our society was at that time. The story of the president who shot second and survived. We’re talking about Andrew Jackson surviving that duel, bullet in his chest until the day he died. That story here on Our American Stories.