Volume I Part 11 (2/2)
[Footnote 142: Morgan Lewis, 30,829; Aaron Burr, 22,139.--_Civil List, State of New York_ (1887), p. 166.]
It was Burr's Waterloo. He had staked everything and lost. Bankrupt in purse, disowned by his party, and distrusted by a large faction of the leading Federalists, he was without hope of recovery so long as Hamilton blocked the way. There is no evidence that Burr ever saw Hamilton's confidential letters to Morris and other trusted Federal leaders, or knew their contents, but he did know that Hamilton bitterly opposed him, and that his influence was blighting. To get rid of him, therefore, Burr now seems to have deliberately determined to kill him.[143]
[Footnote 143: ”That all Hamilton's doings were known to Burr could hardly be doubted. He was not a vindictive man, but this was the second time Hamilton had stood in his way and vilified his character.
Burr could have no reason to suppose that Hamilton was deeply loved; for he knew that four-fifths of the Federal party had adopted his own leaders.h.i.+p when pitted against Hamilton's in the late election, and he knew, too, that Pickering, Griswold, and other leading Federalists had separated from Hamilton in the hope of making Burr himself the chief of a Northern confederacy. Burr never cared for the past,--the present and future were his only thoughts; but his future in politics depended on his breaking somewhere through the line of his personal enemies; and Hamilton stood first in his path, for Hamilton would certainly renew at every critical moment the tactics which had twice cost Burr his prize.”--Henry Adams, _History of the United States_, Vol. 2, pp.
185, 186.]
While in Albany in February to argue the Croswell case, Hamilton had dined with John Taylor, in company with Dr. Charles D. Cooper, who wrote a friend that, in the course of the dinner, Hamilton had declared, in substance, that he looked upon Burr as a dangerous man--one who ought not to be trusted with the reins of government. ”I could detail to you,” continued Cooper, ”a still more despicable opinion which General Hamilton has expressed of Mr. Burr.” This letter found its way into the newspapers, and in a note, dated June 18, 1804, Burr called Hamilton's attention to the words ”more despicable,” and added: ”You must perceive, sir, the necessity of a prompt and unqualified acknowledgment or denial of the use of the expression which could warrant the a.s.sertions of Dr. Cooper.”[144] This note, purposely offensive in its tone, was delivered by William P. Van Ness, a circ.u.mstance clearly indicating an intention to follow it with a challenge. Two days later, Hamilton replied, declining to make the acknowledgment or denial, since he could attach no meaning to the words used in the letter, nor could he consent to be interrogated as to the inferences drawn by third parties, but he was ready to avow or disavow any definite opinion with which he might be charged. ”I trust on further reflection,” concluded Hamilton, ”you will see the matter in the same light with me. If not, I can only regret the circ.u.mstances and must abide the consequences.”[145]
[Footnote 144: _Hamilton's Works_ (Lodge), Vol. 8, p. 617.]
[Footnote 145: _Hamilton's Works_ (Lodge), Vol. 8, p. 618.]
Burr's answer, which plainly shows the rhetoric of ”Aristides,” was more offensive than his initial letter. After replying to it, Hamilton prepared a note to be informally communicated to Burr, in which he stated that if the latter chose to inquire into the purport of any conversation between himself and Dr. Cooper, he would be able to reply with truth that it turned wholly on political topics, and had no relation to Burr's private character, adding that he was ready to make an equally frank answer with regard to any other conversation which Burr would specify.[146] When Burr p.r.o.nounced this honourable proposition ”a mere evasion,” his purpose was as evident as it became on June 27th, the day he sent the challenge.
[Footnote 146: _Ibid._, p. 621.]
Hamilton's acceptance of the challenge was inevitable. For a hundred years men have regretted and mourned that he did not dare to stand alone against duelling, as he had dared to stand alone for economic and patriotic principles against the clamour of mobs and the malice of enemies. But absurd and barbarous as was the custom, it flourished in Christian America, as it did in every other Christian country, in spite of Christian ethics; and it would not permit a proud, sensitive nature, jealous of his honour, especially of his military honour, to ignore it. Lorenzo Sabine's list of duellists includes a score of prominent Englishmen, Frenchmen and Americans, many of them contemporary with Hamilton, and some of them as profoundly admired, who succ.u.mbed to its tyranny. Proof of his valour at Monmouth and at Yorktown would no more placate the popular contempt and obloquy sure to follow an avoidance of its demands than would the victory at Waterloo have excused Wellington had he declined to challenge Lord Winchilsea. All this did not make duelling right, but it excuses a n.o.ble soul for yielding ”to the force of an imperious custom,” as Dr.
Knott put it--a custom that still exists in France and Germany, and in some parts of America, perhaps, though now universally execrated by Christian people and p.r.o.nounced murder by their laws. Even at that time Hamilton held it in abhorrence. In a paper drawn for publication in the event of death, he announced his intention of throwing away his fire, and in extenuation of yielding, he adds: ”To those who, with me, abhorring the practice of duelling, may think that I ought on no account to have added to the number of bad examples, I answer that my relative situation, as well in public as in private, enforcing all the considerations which const.i.tute what men of the world denominate honour, imposed on me, as I thought, a peculiar necessity not to decline the call. The ability to be in the future useful, whether in resisting mischief, or effecting good, in those crises of our public affairs which seem likely to happen, would probably be inseparable from a conformity with public prejudice in this particular.”[147] The pathway of history is strewn with the wrecks of customs and superst.i.tions which have held men in their grip, compelling obedience and demanding regularity; but no custom ever had a firmer hold upon gifted men than duelling, making them its devotees even when their intellects condemned it, their hearts recognised its cruelty, and their consciences p.r.o.nounced it wrong.
[Footnote 147: _Hamilton's Works_ (Lodge), Vol. 8, pp. 626-8.]
Because of Hamilton's engagements in court, the hostile meeting was deferred until Wednesday, July 11th. In the meantime the princ.i.p.als went about their vocations with apparent indifference to the coming event. On the evening of July 4th, Hamilton and Burr attended the annual dinner of the Society of the Cincinnati, of which the former had succeeded Was.h.i.+ngton as president. The occasion was remembered as the gayest and most hilarious in the society's history. Hamilton leaped upon the table and sang ”The Drum,” an old camp song that became historic because of his frequent rendition of it. It was recalled afterward that Burr withdrew before the festivities had ended. On Sat.u.r.day evening Hamilton dined Colonel Trumbull, one of Was.h.i.+ngton's first aides, and on Monday attended a reception given by Oliver Wolcott, John Adams' secretary of the treasury. Tuesday evening he prepared the paper already quoted, and addressed a letter to Theodore Sedgwick, one of Pickering's sternest conspirators, warning him against disunion. ”Dismemberment of our empire,” he said, ”will be a clear sacrifice of great positive advantages, without any counterbalancing good; administering no relief to our real disease, which is democracy--the poison of which, by a subdivision, will only be the more concentred in each part, and consequently the more virulent.”[148]
[Footnote 148: _Hamilton's Works_ (Lodge), Vol. 8, p. 615. Letter to Theo. Sedgwick.]
Meantime the secret had been confined to less than a dozen persons, and to none of Hamilton's intimate friends. Troup remained with him until a late hour Monday night without suspecting anything, the gaiety of his manner leading his friend to think his health was mending. Had Troup divined the hostile meeting, it might not have occurred. When John Swartout entered Burr's room at daylight on that fatal 11th of July, he found him sound asleep.
It was seven o'clock Wednesday morning, a hot July day, that Hamilton crossed the Hudson to Weehawken, with Pendleton, his second, and Dr.
Hosack, Burr and Van Ness having preceded them. It took but a moment to measure ten paces, load the pistols, and place the princ.i.p.als in position. As the word was given, Burr took deliberate aim and fired.
Instantly Hamilton reeled and fell forward headlong upon his face, involuntarily discharging his pistol. ”This is a mortal wound, Doctor,” he gasped, and immediately sank into a swoon. An examination showed that the ball had penetrated the right side. Burr, sheltered by Van Ness under an umbrella, hurried from the scene, while Hamilton, conveyed in his boat to the city, gradually recovered consciousness.
”My vision is indistinct,” he murmured; but soon after, catching sight of a pistol near him, cautioned them to take care of it. ”It is undischarged and still c.o.c.ked,” he said; ”it may go off and do harm.
Pendleton knows I did not intend to fire at him.” As the boat neared the wharf, he asked that Mrs. Hamilton be sent for. ”Let the event be gradually broken to her,” he said, ”but give her hopes.” Thus he lingered for thirty-one hours in great agony, but retaining his self-command to the last, and dying in the midst of his stricken family and sorrowing friends.
If Was.h.i.+ngton and Lincoln be excepted, it is doubtful if an American was ever more deeply mourned. Had he been President, he could not have been buried with greater pomp, or with manifestations of more profound sorrow. Although he had been hated by his enemies, and at times misunderstood by some of his friends, at his death the people, without division, instantly recognised that his life had been pa.s.sionately devoted to his country, and they paid him the tribute only accorded the memory of a most ill.u.s.trious patriot. Such demonstrations were not confined to New York. The sorrow became national; speeches, sermons, and poems without number, were composed in his honour; in every State, some county or town received his name; wherever an American lived, an expression of sympathy found record. It was the consensus of opinion that the life which began in January, 1757 and ended in July, 1804, held in the compa.s.s of its forty-seven years the epitome of what America meant for Americans in the days of its greatest peril and its greatest glory. ”Had he lived twenty years longer,” said Chancellor Kent, ”I have very little doubt he would have rivalled Socrates or Bacon, or any other of the sages of ancient or modern times, in researches after truth and in benevolence to mankind. The active and profound statesman, the learned and eloquent lawyer, would probably have disappeared in a great degree before the character of the sage and philosopher, instructing mankind by his wisdom, and elevating the country by his example.”[149]
[Footnote 149: William Kent, _Life of James Kent_, appendix, p. 328.]
Burr became a name of horror.[150] When Hamilton's death was announced there came a cry of execration on his murderer, which the publication of the correspondence intensified. A coroner's jury p.r.o.nounced him a murderer, the grand jury instructed the district attorney to prosecute, and the Vice President found it necessary to take refuge in concealment until the first fury of the people had subsided.
Cheetham's pen, following him remorselessly, charged that he ransacked the newspapers for the grounds of a challenge; that for three months he daily practised with a pistol; and that while Hamilton lay dying, he sat at the table drinking wine with his friends, and apologising that he had not shot him through the heart.
[Footnote 150: ”Orators, ministers, and newspapers exhausted themselves in execration of Burr.”--Henry Adams, _History of the United States_, Vol. 2, p. 190.]
Within two years Burr was arrested for treason, charged with an attempt to place himself at the head of a new nation formed from the country of the Montezumas and the valley of the Mississippi, and, although he was acquitted, his countrymen believed him guilty of a treasonable ambition. In the State where he had found his chief support, he ever after ranked in infamy next to Benedict Arnold.
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