Quitman’s abilities were almost exclusively military.  This proclivity of mind manifested itself in very early life.  He organized a volunteer company, the Natchez Fencibles, soon after he came to the Bar, and took great pride in its drill and soldierly bearing and appearance.  He seized with avidity the opportunity the Mexican war presented, and there greatly distinguished himself.  After the termination of this war, he was engaged (very little to the honor of his sagacity) in endeavoring to organize a filibustering expedition against the Island of Cuba.  In this he signally failed.  He was elected to Congress, where he was principally distinguished by his extreme Southern views, but gained little or no reputation as a politician or statesman.

In the qualities of heart, Quitman was surpassed by no man; his moral character was unstained.  In sincerity and devotion to his friends, no man was his superior.  He had acquired large wealth by his marriage—­this he had increased by judicious management, and none more freely used it for the benefit of his friends or the public interest.  He was especially generous toward poor, enterprising young men; such instances of assistance rendered are innumerable.  His friends never deserted him.  To his command, during the Mexican war, he was exceedingly profuse with his means in aiding their necessities and supplying their wants.  He was universally commented upon as the most munificent officer of the army.  He was ambitious and courageous; and this ambition knew no bounds.

Upon his return from Mexico, I met him in New Orleans, in company with that ill-starred man, General Shields, of Illinois, and who, Irishman as he was, fell fighting to fasten upon the South the fetters she now wears.  We had not conversed ten minutes before, taking my arm, he walked apart from his visitors and Shields, and commenced to converse upon the consequences of the war.  Turning to me, he remarked:  “General Scott is greatly wanting in ambition, he has no daring aspirations; he has thrown away the finest opportunity ever presented to man for aggrandizement.  Had I commanded the army, and accomplished this great success, I would have established an empire, and made of Mexico a great nation.  He had only to say so, and the Mexicans were ready to crown him emperor.  He could have made dukes, marquises, lords, and barons of his officers, and endowed them with principalities; the soldiers would have remained with him; and in six months, enough from the United States and Europe would have joined his standard, to have held in check the lawless brigands who make anarchy for the country.  The spoils of the Church would have rewarded the soldiers; immigration would have poured into the country, and his name and fame have been commensurate with time.  Everything invited him to the act; he could not or would not see it—­he had but one idea, ‘This will make me President!’ and a lifetime of glory and power was sacrificed for the empty hope of four years filling the Presidential chair.”