Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 1, No. 5, March, 1858 by Various

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In speaking of his duel with Gen. Hamilton, we do not intend to judge
Col. Burr's conduct by the rules by which a more enlightened public
opinion now judges the duellist. He and his adversary acted according
to the custom of their time; by that standard let them be measured.
Mr. Parton thinks that the challenge was as "near an approach to
a reasonable and inevitable action as an action can be which is
intrinsically wrong and absurd." By this we understand him to say that
the course of Col. Burr was in accordance with the etiquette which then
governed men of the world in such affairs. We think differently.

During the election for Governor, Dr. Cooper, of Albany, heard Hamilton
declare that he was opposed to Burr, and made a public statement to that
effect. Gen. Schuyler denied the truth of this assertion, which Dr.
Cooper then reiterated in a published letter, saying that Hamilton and
Judge Kent had both characterized Burr as "a dangerous man, and one who
ought not to be trusted with the reins of government," and that "he
could detail a _still more despicable opinion_ which Gen. Hamilton had
expressed of Mr. Burr." Nearly two months after this letter was
written, Burr addressed a note to Hamilton asking for an unqualified
acknowledgment or denial of the use of any expression which would
justify Dr. Cooper's assertion. The dispute turned upon the words "more
despicable," and as to them there obviously were many difficulties.
Cooper thought that the expression, "a dangerous man and one who ought
not to be trusted with the reins of government," conveyed a despicable
opinion; but many persons might think that such language did not go
beyond the reasonable limits of political animadversion. Burr himself
made no objection to that particular phrase; he did not allude to it
except by way of explanation. The use of such language was common.
In his celebrated attack upon John Adams, Hamilton had spoken of Mr.
Jefferson as an "ineligible and dangerous candidate." The same words had
been publicly applied to Burr himself, two years before. He did not see
anything despicable in the opinion then expressed. A man may be unfit
for office from lack of capacity, and dangerous on account of his
principles. The most rigid construction of the Code of Honor has never
compelled a person to fight every fool whom he thought unworthy of
public station, and every demagogue whose views he considered unsound.
If Dr. Cooper, then, was able to discover a despicable opinion where
most people could find none, might he not have seen what he called a
_more despicable opinion_ in some remark equally innocent? Burr did not
ask what were the precise terms of the remark to which Cooper alluded;
he demanded that Hamilton should disavow Cooper's construction of that
expression. He took offence, not at what had been said, but at the
inference which another had drawn from what had been said. The
justification of such an inference devolved upon Cooper, not
Hamilton,--who by no rule of courtesy could be interrogated as to the
justice of another's opinions. These difficulties presented themselves
to the mind of Hamilton. He stated them in his reply, declared that he
was ready to answer for any precise or definite opinion which he had
expressed, but refused to explain the import which others had placed
upon his language. Unfortunately, the last line of his note contained
an intimation that he expected a challenge. Burr rudely retorted,
reiterating his demand in most insolent terms. The correspondence then
passed into the hands of Nathaniel Pendleton on the part of Hamilton,
and William P. Van Ness, a man of peculiar malignity of character, upon
the part of Burr. The responsibility of his position weighing upon
Hamilton's mind, before the final step was taken, he voluntarily stated
that the conversation with Dr. Cooper "related exclusively to political
topics, and did not attribute to Burr any instance of dishonorable
conduct," and again offered to explain any specific remark. This
generous, unusual, and, according to strict etiquette, unwarranted
proposition removed at once Burr's cause of complaint. Had he been
disposed to an honorable accommodation, he would have received
Hamilton's proposal in the spirit in which it was made. But, embarrassed
by this liberal offer, he at once changed his ground, abandoned Cooper's
remark, which had previously been the sole subject of discussion, and
peremptorily insisted that Gen. Hamilton should deny _ever_ having made
remarks from which inferences derogatory to him could fairly have been
drawn. This demand was plainly unjustifiable. No person would answer
such an interrogatory. It showed that Burr's desire was, not to satisfy
his honor, but to goad his adversary to the field. It establishes the
general charge, which Parton virtually admits, that it was not passion
excited by a recent insult which impelled him to revenge, but hatred
engendered during years of rivalry and stimulated by his late defeat.
Burr must long have known Hamilton's feelings towards him. Those
feelings had been freely expressed; and Burr's letters discover that he
was fully aware of the distrust and hostility with which he was regarded
by his political associates and opponents. A man has no claim to
satisfaction for an insult given years ago. The entire theory of the
duello makes it impossible for one to ask redress for an injury which he
has long permitted to go unredressed. The question being, not whether
the practice of duelling is wrong, but whether Burr was wrong according
to that practice, we have no difficulty in concluding that the challenge
was given upon vague and unjustifiable grounds, and that Gen. Hamilton
would have been excusable, if he had refused to meet him.

It may be said, that, if Hamilton accepted an improper challenge, he
should receive the same condemnation as the one who gave it. But, even
on general grounds, some qualification should be made in favor of
the challenged party. His is a different position from that of the
challenger. A sensitive man, though he think that he is improperly
questioned, may have some delicacy about making his own judgment the
rule of another's conduct. Besides, there were many considerations
peculiar to this case. The menacing tone of Burr's first note made it
evident that he meant to force the quarrel to a bloody issue. Hamilton,
jealous of his reputation for courage, could not run the risk of
appearing anxious to avoid a danger so apparent. Moreover, he was
conscious, that, during his life, he had said many things which might
give Burr cause for offence, and he was unwilling to avail himself of a
technical, though reasonable objection, to escape the consequences of
his own remarks. Neither could he apologize for what he still thought
was true. These considerations were doubly powerful with Hamilton. His
early manhood had been passed in camps; his early fame had been won
in the profession of arms. He was a man of the world. He had never
discountenanced duelling; he himself had been engaged in the affair
between Laurens and Lee; and a few years before, his own son had fallen
in a duel. Neither his education nor his professions nor his practice
could excuse him. It was too late to take shelter behind his general
disapproval of a custom which was recognized by his professional
brethren and had been countenanced by himself. It is true that he would
have shown a higher courage by braving an ignorant and brutal public
opinion, but it would be unjust to censure him for not showing a degree
of courage which no man of his day displayed. He and Burr are to be
measured by their own standard, not by ours; and tried by that test, it
is easy to see a difference between one who accepts and one who sends an
unjustifiable challenge; it is the difference which exists between an
error and a crime.

There was an interval of two weeks between the message and the meeting.
This was required by Hamilton to finish some important law business.
When he went to White Plains to try causes, he was in the habit of
staying at a friend's house. The last time he visited there, a few days
before his death, he said, upon leaving, "I shall probably never come
here again." During this period he invited Col. Wm. Smith, and his wife,
who was the only daughter of John Adams, to dine with him. Some rare old
Madeira which had been given to him was produced on this occasion, and
it was afterwards thought that it was his intention by this slight act
to express his desire to bury all personal differences between Mr. Adams
and himself. These, and various other little incidents, show that he
felt his death to be certain; yet all his business in court and out was
marked by his ordinary clearness and ability, all his intercourse with
his family and friends by his usual sweetness and cheerfulness of
disposition.

On the Fourth of July, Hamilton and Burr met at the annual banquet of
the Society of Cincinnati. Hamilton presided. No one was afterwards able
to remember that his manner gave any indication of the dreadful event
which was so near at hand. He joined freely in the conversation and
badinage of such occasions, and towards the close of the feast sang
a song,--the only one he knew,--the ballad of the Drum. But many
remembered that Burr was silent and moody. He did not look towards
Hamilton until he began to sing, when he fixed his eyes upon him and
gazed intently at him until the song was ended.

Hamilton was living at the Grange, his country-seat, near
Manhattanville. The place is still unchanged. His office was in a small
house on Cedar Street, where he likewise found lodgings when necessary.
The night previous to the duel was passed there. We have been told by
an aged citizen of New York, that Hamilton was seen long after midnight
walking to and fro in front of the house.

During these last hours both parties wrote a few farewell lines. In no
act of their lives does the difference in the characters of Hamilton and
Burr show itself so distinctly as in these parting letters. Hamilton was
oppressed by the difficulties and responsibilities of his situation. His
duty to his creditors and his family forbade him rashly to expose a life
which was so valuable to them; his duty to his country forbade him to
leave so evil an example; he was not conscious of ill-will towards Col.
Burr; and his nature revolted at the thought of destroying human life in
a private quarrel. These thoughts, and the considerations of pride and
ambition which nevertheless controlled him, are beautifully expressed in
language which is full of pathos and manly dignity. He had made his
will the day before. He was distressed lest his estate should prove
insufficient to pay his debts, and, after committing their mother to
the filial protection of his children, he besought them, as his last
request, to vindicate his memory by making up any deficiency which might
occur. Burr's letters to Theodosia and her husband are mainly occupied
with directions as to the disposal of his property and papers. The
tone of them does not differ greatly from that of his ordinary
correspondence. They do not contain a word such as an affectionate
father or a patriotic citizen would have written at such a time. They
do not express a sentiment such as a generous and thoughtful man would
naturally feel on the eve of so momentous an occurrence. There are no
misgivings as to the propriety of his conduct, nor a whisper of regret
at the unfortunate circumstances which, as he professed to think,
compelled him to seek another's blood. He addressed to his daughter
a few lines of graceful compliment, and, in striking contrast with
Hamilton's injunction to his children, Burr's last request with regard
to Theodosia is, that she shall acquire a "critical knowledge of Latin,
English, and all branches of natural philosophy."

The combatants met on the 11th of July, 1804, at a place beneath the
heights of Weehawken, upon the New Jersey side of the Hudson,--the usual
resort, at that time, for such encounters. Burr fired the moment the
word was given, raising his arm deliberately and taking aim. The ball
struck Hamilton on the side, and, as he reeled under the blow, his
pistol was discharged into the air. "I should have shot him through the
heart," said Burr, afterwards, "but, at the moment I was about to fire,
my aim was confused by a vapor." Burr stepped forward with a gesture of
regret, when he saw his adversary fall; but his second hurried him from
the field, screening him with an umbrella from the recognition of the
surgeon and bargemen.

Hamilton was carried to the house of Mr. Bayard, in the suburbs of the
city. The news flew through the town, producing intense excitement.
Bulletins were posted at the Tontine, and changed with every new report.
Crowds soon gathered around Mr. Bayard's house, and in the grounds. So
deep was the feeling, that visitors were permitted to pass one by one
through the room where Gen. Hamilton was lying. From the first, there
was no hope of his recovery. This opinion of the most eminent surgeons
in the city was concurred in by the surgeons of two French frigates in
the harbor, who were consulted. Gen. Hamilton was a man of slight frame,
and a disorder, from which he had recently suffered, prevented the use
of the ordinary remedies. He retained his composure to the last; nor was
his fortitude disturbed until his seven children approached his bedside.
He gave them one look, and, closing his eyes, did not open them again
while they remained in the room. He expired at two o'clock on the day
after the duel.

He was not the only victim. His oldest daughter, a girl of twenty, whose
education he had carefully directed, and whose musical talents gave him
great pleasure, never recovered from the shock of her father's death.
In her disordered fancy, she visited by night the fatal ground at
Weehawken, and told her friends that she crossed the river and returned
before morning. Her mind soon gave way entirely; and only last spring
death released her from a total, though gentle insanity of fifty years'
duration.

The sudden and tragic death of Alexander Hamilton produced a universal
feeling of sympathy and sorrow. As the leader of the bar, the advocate
of the Constitution, the statesman who had given the law to American
commerce, the most accomplished soldier in the army, and connected
with the still recent glories of the Revolution,--his name had become
familiar to every ear, and was associated with every subject of popular
interest. His career was, in all respects, an extraordinary one. He came
here a stranger, without fortune or powerful family connections. While
yet a school-boy, he had borne a creditable part in the discussion of
public affairs. At an age when the ambition of most young soldiers
is satisfied, if, by the performance of their ordinary duties as
subalterns, they have attracted the regard of their superiors, he was
in a position of responsibility, and occupied with the most serious and
complicated matters of war. He was one of the youngest and at the
same time one of the most influential members of the Constitutional
Convention. To this distinction in affairs and arms he added equal
distinction at the bar. It will be difficult to find in our history, or
in that of England, an instance of such eminence in three departments of
action so distinct and dissimilar. Although it may he said of Hamilton,
that he had not the intuitive perception, which Jefferson possessed, of
the necessities imposed upon the country by its anomalous condition,
yet, as a statesman under an established government, he was surpassed
by no man of his generation. His talents were of the kind which most
attracts the sympathies and impresses the understandings of others. He
was a grave man, occupied with business affairs, but not unequal to
occasions which required the display of taste and eloquence. His solid
qualities of mind inspired universal confidence in the soundness of
his views upon all questions which were not the subject of political
dispute. There were many plain Republicans of that day who were firmly
attached to the principles which Jefferson advocated, but who thought
that Jefferson was a dreamer and an enthusiast, and that Hamilton was a
far safer man in the ordinary affairs of government.

The grief which the death of Hamilton caused in the nation reacted upon
Burr; and when the correspondence was published, a storm of condemnation
burst upon him. Indictments were found against him in New York and New
Jersey. In every pulpit, upon every platform, where the virtues and
services of Hamilton were celebrated, the features of his malignant foe
were displayed in dramatic contrast. He was compared to Richard III. and
Catiline, to Saul, and to the wretch who fired the temple of Diana. This
feeling was not confined to orators and clergymen, nor to this country.
It reached other communities, and was shared by men of the world like
Talleyrand, and retired students like Jeremy Bentham. The former, a few
years before his death, related to an American gentleman, that Burr, on
his arrival in Paris, in 1810, sent to him and requested an interview.
The French statesman could not well refuse to receive an American of
such distinction, with whom he was personally acquainted, and by whom
he had formerly been hospitably entertained, and told the gentleman
who brought the message,--"Say to Col. Burr, that I will receive him
to-morrow; but tell him also, that Gen. Hamilton's likeness always hangs
over my mantel." Burr did not call upon him. Talleyrand directed that
after his death the miniature should be sent to Hamilton's descendants,
with some newspaper scraps relating to him, which he had thrust into the
lining. When Burr was in England, he became intimate with Bentham. The
latter, in his "Memoirs and Correspondence," makes a brief allusion to
the acquaintance, in which the following passage occurs: "Burr gave me
an account of his duel with Hamilton. He was sure of being able to kill
him: _so I thought it little better than a murder_."

Previously to his retirement from the Vice-Presidency, in March, 1805,
Burr had formed the design of seeking a home in the Southwest. Little
more than a year before, Louisiana had been annexed, and then offered
a wide field to an ambitious man. Encouraged by some acquaintances, he
projected various political and financial speculations. In April, he
repaired to Pittsburg, and started upon a journey down the Ohio and
the Mississippi. On the way, curiosity led him to the house of Herman
Blennerhassett, and he thus accidentally made the acquaintance of a
man whose name has become historic by its association with his own.
Blennerhassett was an Irishman by birth; he had inherited a considerable
fortune, and was a man of education. Beguiled by the belief that in
the retirement of the American forests he would find the solitude most
congenial to the pursuit of his favorite studies, he purchased an island
in the Ohio River near the mouth of the Little Kanawha. He expended most
of his property in building a house and adorning his grounds. The house
was a plain wooden structure; and the shrubbery, in its best estate,
could hardly have excited the envy of Shenstone. Men of strong character
are not dependent upon certain conditions of climate and quiet for the
ability to accomplish their purposes. But Blennerhassett was not a man
of strong character; neither was he an exception to this rule. He was,
at the best, but an idle student; and his zeal for science never carried
him beyond a little desultory study of Astronomy and Botany and some
absurd experiments in Chemistry. His figure was awkward, his manners
were ungracious, and he was so near-sighted that he used to take a
servant hunting with him, to show him the game. His credulity and
want of worldly knowledge exposed him to the practices of the shrewd
frontiers-men among whom he lived. He soon became involved in debt, and
at the time of Burr's visit his situation made him a ready volunteer for
any enterprise which promised to repair his shattered fortunes. That the
enterprise was impracticable, and that he was unfit for it, only made it
more attractive to his imaginative and simple mind. The fancy of Wirt
has thrown a deceptive romance around the career of Blennerhassett, yet
there is enough of truth in the account of the misfortunes which Burr
brought upon him and his amiable wife to justify the sympathy with which
they have been regarded.

Soon after his arrival at New Orleans Burr seems to have formed bolder
designs. From this time we find in his correspondence, and that of his
friends, vague hints of some great undertaking. This proved to be a
project for an expedition against Mexico, and the establishment there
of an Empire which was to include the States west of the Alleghanies;
subsidiary to this, and connected with it, was a plan for the
colonization of a large tract of land upon the Washita.

It is difficult to believe that a design so absurd can have been
entertained by a man of common sense; yet it is certain that it was
seriously undertaken by Burr. His conduct in carrying it out furnishes
the best measure of his talents and a signal exhibition of his folly and
his vices. His high standing, his reputation as a soldier, attracted
the vulgar, and brought him into intercourse with the most intelligent
people of the Territory. The fascination of his manners, and the skill
in the arts of intrigue which long discipline had given him, enabled
him to sustain the impression which the prestige of his name everywhere
produced. The details of his political conduct could not have been
accurately known in a region so remote. The affair with Hamilton had not
injured his reputation in communities where such affairs were common
and often applauded. The circumstances of the time, to his superficial
glance, seemed to be encouraging. A large portion of the country had
lately passed under our flag;--many of the inhabitants spoke a foreign
language, and retained foreign customs and predilections;--the American
settlers were an adventurous race, and eager for an opportunity to
indulge their martial spirit;--Mexico was uneasy under the Spanish
yoke;--and some indications of a war between the United States and Spain
held out a faint hope that the initiatory steps of his enterprise might
be taken with the connivance of the government. To recruit an army among
the hardy citizens of Kentucky and Tennessee, to excite the jealousies
of the French in Louisiana, to subdue feeble and demoralized Mexico, and
create a new and stable empire, did not appear difficult to the sanguine
imagination of a man who was without means or powerful friends, and who
at no time had sufficient confidence in those with whom he was engaged
to fully inform them of his plans. But he pursued his purposes with a
tenacity which leaves no doubt of his sincerity, and an audacity and
unscrupulousness seldom equalled. A few whom he thought it safe to trust
were admitted to his secrets. Upon those in whom he did not dare to
confide he practised every species of deception. He told some, that his
intentions were approved by the government,--others, that his expedition
was against Mexico only, and that he was sure of foreign aid. He
represented to the honest, that he had bought lands, and wished to form
a colony and institute a new and better order of society; the ignorant
were deluded with a fanciful tale of Southern conquest, and a
magnificent empire, of which he was to be king, and Theodosia queen
after his death. So thoroughly was this deception carried out, that it
is difficult to determine who were actually engaged with him. Without
doubt, many acceded to his plans only because they did not knew what his
plans really were. He made rapid journeys from New Orleans to Natchez,
Nashville, Lexington, Louisville, and St. Louis. In the winter of 1805
he returned to Washington, and in the following summer again went
down the Ohio. Wherever he went, he threw out complaints against the
government,--charged it with imbecility,--boasted that with two hundred
men he could drive the President and Congress into the Potomac,--freely
prophesied a dissolution of the Union, and published in the local
journals articles pointing out the advantages which would result from a
separation of the Western from the Eastern States. Gen. Eaton had been
denounced in Congress, and had a claim against the government; Burr
tempted him with an opportunity to redress his wrongs and satisfy his
claim. Commodore Truxton had been struck from the Navy list; he offered
him a high command in the Mexican navy. He took every occasion to
flatter the vanity of the people; attended militia parades, and praised
the troops for their discipline and martial bearing. Large donations
of land were freely promised to recruits; men were enlisted;
Blennerhassett's Island was made the rendezvous; and provisions were
gathered there.

At length his movements began to cause some anxiety to the public
officers. The United States District Attorney attempted to indict him at
Frankfort, Kentucky, but the grand-jury refused to find a bill. Henry
Clay defended him in these proceedings, and in reference to his
connection with the case, Mr. Parton makes a characteristic display of
the spirit in which his book is written, and of his unfitness for the
ambitious task he has undertaken. He quotes the following passage from
Collins's "Historical Sketches of Kentucky":--"Before Mr. Clay took
any active part as the counsel of Burr, he required of him an explicit
disavowal, [avowal,] upon his honor, that he was engaged in no design
contrary to the laws and peace of the country. This pledge was
promptly given by Burr, in language the most broad, comprehensive, and
particular. He had no design, he said, to intermeddle with or disturb
the tranquillity of the United States, nor its territories, nor any part
of them. He had neither issued nor signed nor promised a commission to
any person for any purpose. He did not own a single musket, nor bayonet,
nor any single article of military stores,--nor did any other person
for him, by his authority or knowledge. His views had been explained
to several distinguished members of the administration, were well
understood and approved by the government. They were such as every man
of honor and every good citizen must approve." Upon this paragraph Mr.
Parton makes the following extraordinary comments:--"Mr. Clay, there is
reason to believe, went to his grave in the belief that each of these
assertions was an unmitigated falsehood, and the writer of the above
adduces them merely as remarkable instances of cool, impudent lying.
On the contrary, with one exception, all of Burr's allegations were
strictly true; and even that one was true in a _Burrian_ sense. He did
_not_ own any arms or military stores: by the terms of his engagement
with his recruits, every man was to join him armed, just as every
backwoodsman was armed whenever he went from home. He had _not_ issued
nor promised any commissions: the time had not come for that. Jefferson
and his cabinet undoubtedly knew his views and intentions, up to the
point where they ceased to be lawful."

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