The Liberator

Just as we were preparing our paper for the press, we received the following printed Circular from Cassius M. Clay, giving his version of the late bloody rencontre between himself and Cyrus Turner; and we regret that we feel compelled to add, that, in our opinion, a large share of the blame must rest upon the head of Mr. Clay. If he had not addressed Runyon so haughtily and contemptuously, and been the first to draw his bowie knife, it is not probable that so bloody a result would have followed.

CASSIUS M. CLAY'S ACCOUNT OF THE FOX-TOWN RENCONTRE.

T. I. Goppin, Esq.

Dear Sir: Justice to the living and the dead requires that the melancholy events of the 15th of June should be truly stated.

Squire Turner is one of the pro-slavery candidates in the county of Madison for the Convention. He opened the canvass by denouncing the emancipationists in a public speech in the town of Richmond, at April court. I replied to him, and vindicated the patriotism and principles of that party. I then distinctly avowed, that in no emergency would I allow personal feelings to heighten that excitement which necessarily follows discussion of the subject of slavery. A similar debate took place in May. About this time, it began to be rumored that I would not be allowed to speak again in this county. The friends of Mr. Turner were said to complain that I, being no candidate, followed him in debate. I said to them and Mr. Turner, that if he would abstain from denouncing us, the emancipationists, I should not feel myself compelled to answer his speeches. About the second week of May, a third and similar debate took place at Elzie Million's. My friends supposed, from rumors, that I would be personally assaulted that day. On that occasion, Richard Runyon asked me if I adopted the platform of the Frankfort convention of the 25th of April. I replied that I did. He then said I occupied 'damned broad ground.' I mildly replied that I hoped always to base my actions upon broad principles. I then regarded Runyon as attempting to provoke a quarrel, but let it pass, and said nothing to any one.

At Waldin's muster, on the 14th of June, it was agreed, among the candidates and myself, that each should speak one hour; Mr. Willis to precede, Mr. Chenault was to follow. I was to speak next, and then Mr. Turner. As soon as Chenault closed, Turner, in violation of the agreement, took the stand, giving as his apology that the people were going home. I took it good-humoredly, remarking that the people always stayed when I was expected to speak. The debate continued until near sun-down, when it was concluded courteously on all sides.

On the 15th, I packed my carpet-bag, expecting to be absent from my family a week, intending to speak at Fox Town, the Glade, Irvine and other places, before my return home. I arrived at Fox Town about 1 o'clock. So soon as I got there, feeling very much exhausted by much travelling and speaking of late, I asked Curtis F. Burnam, Esq., son of Thompson Burnam, the emancipation candidate for the convention, to speak in my place, as I felt actually worn out, to which he at length reluctantly assented. Mr. Willis led off as usual in a short speech; Mr. Turner followed in a speech far more inflammatory and injurious to me personally than any he had hitherto made. He read extracts from the celebrated article in the True American which was the ostensible cause of the mob of the 18th of August. He attributed the late stampede of the slaves of Fayette to the True American. He denounced the Editors of the Louisville Examiner as holding treasonable correspondence with the abolitionists of Ohio, and read from the writings of the Garrisonian abolitionists the most bitter denunciations of slaveholders. I approached the stand, and asked that, inasmuch as I would have no opportunity to reply, he would allow me to make an explanation. He being silent, I proceeded to say that the article which he read from the True American was written by a Southern slaveholder, whose views were different from mine, as avowed in the same number in which it appeared: that I had been slandered during my visit to the North a short time previous, and the Kentucky press had refused me the privilege of simple self defence; in consequence, I had been very liberal in my paper, avowedly allowing even in the editorial columns, articles of very dissimilar sentiments, and that I thought Mr. Turner was hard pressed to be compelled to go back four years to bring up objectionable matter in the discussion. This explanation only occupied a minute or two. Turner replied by denying that he had used the name of True American. I told him it mattered not, as everybody knew his allusion. He then proceeded uninterruptedly for one hour. I then asked him if he intended to divide the time, according to the agreement of the day before. He made an evasive reply, amid cries of 'go on,' and absolutely gave no direct answer. In the meantime, I drew out my watch, and remarked that he had been speaking two hours, it being then 4 o'clock. He said that I was mistaken, he had only spoken an hour. I remarked, I believed I had been mistaken in subtracting the hours. Thomas Turner, his second son, then stepped up to my side menacingly, and said I was mistaken—it was but one hour. The cries 'go on' continuing, I said nothing more.

I now began to feel, for the first time, that there was a concerted purpose to defame, silence, and perhaps assault me. I went into the room where my carpet-bag was lodged, and put on a knife seven inches in length, and an inch and an eighth in breadth, which I usually carry for self-defence, and returned to the stand; for my instincts as a man, as well as my usefulness as a citizen, had determined me never to submit to personal indignity. I do not deny that I have other and more efficient weapons of defence than this knife: but so slight was my apprehension of assault, that I was lulled into false security. When Mr. Turner had concluded his address, determined to be clearly in the right, I asked his pardon for mistaking the hour, saying that I thought it had been two hours when it had been but one. So far from accepting my apology, he dryly remarked, that no doubt I thought his speech four hours long, instead of two; this I also bore in silence. I then ascended the stand, and said that, yesterday, at Waldin's, Mr. Turner agreed that I should speak first; and yet, without any notice, he occupied the stand, in violation of his own agreement; and now, to-day, he is the first up again, and refuses to assent to any compromise. I claim, both from the theory of the government, and from the practice of all parties, that Mr. Burnam, the emancipation candidate, has an equal right to be heard, either through himself, his son, or some friend, before the people. I presume there is not a man present who will deny this claim. I do not ask to be heard myself; my interruption of Mr. Turner was not on my own account, but that of my friend Mr. Burnam, who desires to address you, should have a fair distribution of the time. After some other irrelevant explanation with regard to Chenault, myself and Turner, I was about to resume my seat, when I was questioned by Richard Runyon. He asked me if I had not asserted that the school bonds were burnt. I told him I had. He then said it was not true. I replied that it was true, and referred him to the act, and the School Commissioner's report; and remembering that this was the same man who had insulted me at Million's, who was currently reported to be Turner's agent at the meeting held in Richmond, of the friends of constitutional reform, in presenting resolutions, I pursued him with just indignation. 'Yes, sir, you voted for the bill to burn! By your own admission, you are guilty, and therefore you are sensitive. Ask your master here, whose tool you are, if I state not the truth.' I was about getting down from the stand, when Mr. Turner again ascended the stand, and disclaimed that Runyon was his tool. I then said, 'He makes himself your tool, your willing tool,' and stepped off the stand. I then remarked, in an under tone, that this was the second time that Runyon had attempted to raise a row with me. Cyrus Turner (the eldest son of S. Turner) immediately gave me the damn lie, and struck me simultaneously. Cyrus Turner and myself had heretofore been upon friendly terms. I had not spoken to him that day; I did not address my remarks to him; I therefore regarded him as following in the wake of Runyon. I threw off my cloak, and attempted to draw my knife. C. Turner caught my hand, but I at length succeeded in drawing it. As quick as thought, my hand was seized by a third party. Turner then let me go, and commenced striking me feebly in the face with his fist, and the knife was wrested from my hand. I then struck Turner a violent blow on his left cheek with my right hand, which staggered him back against the crowd. Whether he fell or not, I don't know. Being assailed from behind, I turned, and seeing my knife in the possession of some person, for which, apparently, there seemed to be a struggle, I seized it with my right hand, and by twisting it with my left, (cutting three of my fingers,) I succeeded in recovering it. For a short time, I was insensible; probably the effect of violent blows. I then heard the bursting of a cap. I found I was unable to see: I therefore retreated a few paces out of the dense crowd. My son Warfield, 14 years old, came up to me crying, and offered me an old pistol, three inch barrel, which I had given him several years before. This I rejected as an inefficient weapon. So soon as I recovered my sight, and perceived where Cyrus Turner was, I made towards him. He retreated with the crowd. The crowd giving way behind him, he fell, when I attempted to strike, or did strike him in the abdomen with my knife. I was then borne away, believing myself mortally wounded. I appealed to the crowd to witness that I fell in defence of the liberties of the people.

My first impression was, that the man who took my knife from me, had stabbed me with my own knife: but every one who has seen the wound and the knife, professional and unprofessional, pronounces it physically impossible. I was struck on the fifth right rib; the knife turned partially round, and passed up in the direction of the left breast. I do not remember at what time I was stabbed; I know neither who took the knife, or who stabbed me. Cyrus Turner admitted that he did not. I know not who struck me. It is admitted on all hands, by friend and foe, that Alfred Turner, (cousin of Squire Turner,) struck me several violent blows with a stick. Thomas Turner admits that he bursted three caps at me with a six barrel revolver, and was proceeding to fire on, when my friend Wm. Wilkerson threw him under the table: whilst many others, whom forbear to name at present, seemed to be aiding and abetting. My friend Wiatt Wilkerson was badly cut in the arm with a knife. I supposed for several days that I was stabbed in the right side, near the back bone, but it must have been the result of a severe blow. I suffered acute pain in my right shoulder for near ten days. This, too, was produced by severe blows.

It is probable I had as many friends on the ground as Turner, but they were paralyzed by surprise, whilst I must do my opponents the justice to say that they acted with a speed, concentration and energy worthy of a better cause and better success. After I was borne into the house, I could hear C. Turner's groans in another room. I asked what was his condition. I was told that he was not fatally wounded. I there sent him word that I rejoiced that I had not given him a mortal wound;' he returned for answer, 'that he had not stabbed me:' and I understood before his death, imputed no blame to me.

Truth requires me to say, that Cyrus Turner's life and character had inspired me with the same respect which is felt by the citizens of Madison County generally. Whilst I regret his death, not upon me rests the responsibility of its necessity.

Now in the third week, still I linger and suffer from the wound, unable to have my bed made up. In this condition, I have dictated the preceding statement to an amanuensis.

July 2d, 1849.

C. M. CLAY.