the Senior year, when he was one of very
few in a class of seventy who maintained republican opinions,
President Dwight asked him, "What is the legitimate source of power?"
"The people," answered the student. Dr. Dwight combated this opinion;
Calhoun replied; and the whole hour of recitation was consumed in the
debate. Dr. Dwight was so much struck with the ability displayed by
the student, that he remarked to a friend that Calhoun had talent
enough to be President of the United States, and that we should see
him President in due time. In those innocent days, an observation of
that nature was made of every young fellow who showed a little spirit
and a turn for debate. Fathers did not _then_ say to their promising
offspring, Beware, my son, of self-seeking and shallow speaking, lest
you should be consigned to the White House, and be devoured by
office-seekers. People then regarded the Presidency as a kind of
reward of merit, the first step toward which was to get "up head" in
the spelling-class. There is reason to believe that young Calhoun took
the prediction of the Doctor very seriously. He took everything
seriously. He never made a joke in his life, and was totally destitute
of the sense of humor. It is doubtful if he was ever capable of
unbending so far as to play a game of football.

The ardent political discussions then in vogue had one effect which
the late Mr. Buckle would have pronounced most salutary; they
prevented Dr. Dwight's severe theology from taking hold of the minds
of many students. Calhoun wholly escaped it. In his speeches we find,
of course, the stock allusions of a religious nature with which all
politicians essay to flatter their constituents; but he was never
interested in matters theological. A century earlier, he might have
been the Jonathan Edwards of the South, if there had been a South
then. His was just the mind to have revelled in theological
subtilties, and to have calmly, closely, unrelentingly argued nearly
the whole human race into endless and hopeless perdition. His was just
the nature to have contemplated his argument with complacency, and its
consequences without emotion.

Graduating with credit in 1804, he repaired to the famous Law School
at Litchfield in Connecticut, where he remained a year and a half, and
won general esteem. Tradition reports him a diligent student and an
admirable debater there. As to his moral conduct, that was always
irreproachable. That is to say, he was