In 1761 he was removed to Stockbridge, in Massachusetts, and placed in
the family of Timothy Edwards, his mother's eldest brother. In 1762
his maternal uncle, Timothy, removed to Elizabethtown, New-Jersey.
Aaron and his sister Sarah remained in the family until the former
entered college, and the latter became the wife of Judge Reeve. A
private tutor was employed for them in the house of Mr. Edwards. For a
considerable portion of the time, Judge Reeve was engaged in that
capacity.
When about ten years old, Aaron evinced a desire to make a voyage to
sea; and, with this object in view, ran away from his uncle Edwards,
and came to the city of New-York. He entered on board an outward-bound
vessel as cabin-boy. He was, however, pursued by his guardian, and his
place of retreat discovered. Young Burr, one day, while busily
employed, perceived his uncle coming down the wharf, and immediately
ran up the shrouds, and clambered to the topgallant-mast head. Here he
remained, and peremptorily refused to come down, or be taken down,
until all the preliminaries of a treaty of peace were agreed upon. To
the doctrine of unconditional submission he never gave his assent.
In 1769 Burr entered Princeton College; where, owing to his extreme
youth and smallness of stature, he was forced to commence with the
sophomore, although, upon examination, he was found qualified to enter
the junior class. This was a source of extreme mortification to him,
and especially as he had been prepared, and was every way qualified,
to enter the preceding year. From his infancy Burr was of a slender
frame, and appeared to be delicately formed; but exhibited great
muscular strength, and was able to endure excessive fatigue of body
and mind.
Previous to entering college, young Burr had formed extraordinary
notions of the acquirements of collegiates; and felt great
apprehension lest he should be found inferior to his classmates. He
was therefore, at first, indefatigable as well as systematic in his
studies. He soon discovered that he could not pursue them after dinner
with the same advantage that he could before. He suspected that this
was owing to his eating too abundantly. He made the experiment, and
the result convinced him that his apprehensions were well founded. He
immediately adopted a system of regimen, to which, in some degree, he
adhered through life. So abstemious was he during the greater part of
the first year after his entrance into college, that it operated
powerfully upon him, and he was supposed to be in bad health. He was
in the habit of studying sixteen or eighteen hours of the twenty-four,
until the period of examination arrived, when he discovered that the
progress he had made was so much beyond his associates, that he formed
an opinion as contemptuous as it had been exalted of his college
friends. The effect of this was ultimately very injurious upon his
habits.
During the last year that he remained in college, he passed a life of
idleness, negligence, and, in some measure, of dissipation. He applied
himself but little to his studies, and was in the constant pursuit of
pleasure. He graduated, however, when only sixteen years of age, with
a reputation for talents, and receiving the highest academic honours
the faculty could bestow.
In the year 1771-72, there was in the college what was termed, in
religious phraseology, "an awakening." A large portion of the
collegians became converted. It was only a short time before Burr
graduated, and in the midst of his hilarity and amusements. He was
frequently appealed to by his associates, and threatened with the most
terrific consequences if there was not an inward as well as an outward
change. From his infancy Burr's education had been strictly moral; and
strong impressions had been made upon his mind as to the existence of
a Deity, and the accountability of man. Yet this awakening did not
seem to him right in all its parts. He determined, therefore, to have
a free and full conversation with Dr. Witherspoon, the then president
of the college, on the subject. The result of that conversation in
some measure tranquillized young Burr. The Rev. Dr. assured him that
it was not true and rational religion, but fanaticism, that was
operating upon his friends.
Among the papers preserved by Colonel Burr are the originals of a
number of essays or orations, written and read by him, in conformity
with the regulations of the college, while yet a student. They are
without dates; but, as he graduated in 1772, they must have been
composed when he was of an age between thirteen and sixteen. A few of
them are here inserted, as exhibiting his manner of writing, and the
maturity and tone of his mind. The opinions which he formed, while yet
in college, as to public speaking and the selection of language, he
appears never to have changed. The style which he then recommended
seems ever after to have been his model.
* * * * *
_Read in College, by Aaron Burr.--On Style._
"I have often observed, that it is very common for those who are
ambitious of excelling in composition, to study swelling words,
pompous epithets, and laboured periods. This is often practised,
especially by young writers. It is, however, generally condemned as a
fault, and sometimes too by those who practise it themselves. An
elegant simplicity of language is what every one should strive to
obtain. Besides the arguments which are usually offered on this head,
there is one very important one, which is commonly not much attended
to.
"It is the business of every writer to acquire command of language, in
order that he may be able to write with ease and readiness, and, upon
any occasion, to form extempore discourses. Unless he can do this, he
will never shine as a speaker, nor will he ever make a figure in
private conversation. But to do this, it is necessary to study
simplicity of style. There never was a ready speaker, whose language
was not, generally, plain and simple; for it is absolutely impossible
to carry the laboured ornaments of language, the round period, or the
studied epithet, into extempore discourses; and, were it possible, it
would be ridiculous. We have learned, indeed, partly from reading
poetry, and partly from reading vicious compositions, to endure, and
too often to admire, such stiff and laboured discourses in writing;
but if it were even possible for a man to speak in the same pompous
diction in which Browne has written his vulgar errors, he would
certainly be very disagreeable. This reason, among others, may be
assigned for it; that however such false ornaments may please for a
time, yet, when a long and steady attention is required, we are tired
and disgusted with every thing which increases our labour, and diverts
the attention from the subject before us. A laboured style is a labour
even to the hearer. A simple style, like simple food, preserves the
appetite. But a profusion of ornament, like a profusion of sweets,
palls the appetite and becomes disgusting. A man might as soon think
of filling his stomach with sweetmeats, as going through a long debate
filled with pompous epithets and sounding language. If we have any
doubt of its being ridiculous, let us only suppose a man arguing an
abstruse subject in metaphysics, in the blank verse of Milton, or the
exact rhymes of Pope. The absurdity is the same, only different in
degree. I would not be understood to cut off an extempore speaker from
sublime expressions; because I do not suppose these to be inconsistent
with simplicity of style. I really doubt if there be any such thing as
sublimity of style, strictly speaking. But, indeed, rather believe
that the sublime depends upon the thoughts, which are the more sublime
by being clearly and simply expressed, This, however, is not material
at present. It is certainly impossible for a speaker to carry laboured
periods into his extempore discourses: it is no less certain, that in
general, a simple style is to be preferred, and that he would be
ridiculous and disagreeable if he could do it; and as extempore
speaking is a great object, which we ought to have in view in the
formation of our style, this may be used as one argument why we should
study a simple style."
_The Passions_.
"Amid the variety of literary pieces which have in all ages been
ushered into the world, few, if any, afford greater satisfaction than
those that treat of man. To persons of a speculative nature and
elegant taste, whose bosoms glow with benevolence, such disquisitions
are peculiarly delightful. The reason, indeed, is obvious; for what
more necessary to be learned and accurately understood? what more near
and interesting? and, therefore, what more proper to engage the
attention? Well may I say, with our ethic poet,
"'The proper study of mankind is man.'
"If we take a view of the body only, which may be called the shell or
external crust, we shall perceive it to be formed with amazing nicety
and art. How are we lost in wonder when we behold all its component
parts; when we behold them, although various and minute, and blended
together almost beyond conception, discharging their peculiar
functions without the least confusion. All harmoniously conspiring to
one grand end.
"But when we take a survey of the more sublime parts of the human
frame; when we behold man's internal make and structure; his mental
faculties; his social propensions, and those active powers which set
all in motion--the passions,--what an illustrious display of
consummate wisdom is presented to our admiring view! What brighter
mark--what stronger evidence need we of a God? The scanty limits of a
few minutes, to which I am confined, would not permit me, were I equal
to the task, to enter into a particular examination of all man's
internal powers. I shall therefore throw out a few thoughts on the
passions only.
"Man's mental powers, being in their nature sluggish and inactive,
cannot put themselves in motion. The grand design then of the passions
is, to rouse them to action. These lively and vigorous principles make
us eager in the pursuit of those things that are approved by the
judgment; keep the mind intent upon proper objects, and at once awake
to action all the powers of the soul. The passions give vivacity to
all our operations, and render the enjoyments of life pleasing and
agreeable. Without them, the scenes of the world would affect us no
more than the shadowy pictures of a morning dream.
"Who can view the works of nature, and the productions of art, without
the most sublime and rapturous emotions? Who can view the miseries of
others, without being dissolved into compassion? Who can read human
nature, as represented in the histories of the world, without burning
to chastise the perpetrators of tyranny, or glowing to imitate the
assertors of freedom? But, were we of a sudden stripped of our
passions, we should survey the works of nature and the productions of
art with indifference and neglect. We should be unaffected with the
calamities of others, deaf to the calls of pity, and dead to all the
feelings of humanity. Without generosity, benevolence, or charity, man
would be a groveling, despicable creature. Without the passions, man
would hardly rank above the beasts.
"It is a trite truth, that the passions have too much influence over
our sentiments and opinions. It is the remark of a late author, that
the actions and sentiments of men do as naturally follow the lead of
the passions, as the effect does the cause. Hence they are, by some,
aptly enough, termed the principles of action. Vicious desires will
produce vicious practices; and men, by permitting themselves to think
of indulging irregular passions, corrupt the understanding, which is
the source of all virtue and morality. The passions, then, if properly
regulated, are the gentle gales which keep life from stagnating; but,
if let loose, the tempests which tear every thing before them. Too
fatal observation will evince the truth of this.
"Do we not frequently behold men of the most sprightly genius, by
giving the reins to their passions, lost to society, and reduced to
the lowest ebb of misery and despair? Do we not frequently behold
persons of the most penetrating discernment and happy turn for polite
literature, by mingling with the sons of sensuality and riot, blasted
in the bloom of life? Such was the fate of the late celebrated Duke of
Wharton, Wilmot, earl of Rochester, and Villers, duke of Buckingham,
three noblemen, as eminently distinguished by their wit, taste, and
knowledge, as for their extravagance, revelry, and lawless passions.
In such cases, the most charming elocution, the finest fancy, the
brightest blaze of genius, and the noblest burst of thoughts, call for
louder vengeance, and damn them to lasting infamy and shame.
"A greater curse cannot, indeed, befall community, than for princes
and men in eminent departments to be under the influence of
ill-directed passions. Lo Alexander and Cesar, the fabled heroes of
antiquity, to what lengths did passion hurry them? Ambition, with look
sublime, bade them on, bade them grasp at universal dominion, and wade
to empire through seas of blood! But why need I confine myself to
these? Do not provinces, plundered and laid waste with fire and sword;
do not nations, massacred and slaughtered by the bloody hand of war;
do not all these dreadful and astonishing revolutions, recorded in the
pages of history, show the fatal effects of lawless passions?
"If the happiness of others could not, yet surely our own happiness
should induce us to keep our passions within the bounds of reason; for
the passions, when unduly elevated, destroy the health, impair the
mental faculties, sour the disposition, embitter life, and make us
equally disagreeable to others and uneasy to ourselves. Is it not,
then, of moment, that our passions be duly balanced, their sallies
confined within proper limits, and in no case suffered to transgress
the bounds of reason? Will any one deny the importance of regulating
the passions, when he considers how powerful they are, and that his
own happiness, and perhaps the happiness of thousands, depends upon
it? The regulation of the passions is a matter of moment, and
therefore we should be careful to fix them upon right objects, to
confine them within proper bounds, and never permit them to exceed the
limits assigned by nature. It is the part of reason to sooth the
passions, and to keep the soul in a pleasing serenity and calm: if
reason rules, all is quiet, composed, and benign: if reason rules, all
the passions, like a musical concert, are in unison. In short, our
passions, when moderate, are accompanied with a sense of fitness and
rectitude; but, when excessive, inflame the mind, and hurry us on to
action without due distinction of objects.
"Among uncivilized nations, the passions do, in general, exceed all
rational bounds. Need we a proof of this? Let us cast our eyes on the
different savage tribes in the world, and we shall be immediately
convinced that the passions rule without control. Happy it is, that in
polished society, the passions, by early discipline, are so moderated
as to be made subservient to the most important services. In this
respect, seminaries of learning are of the utmost advantage, and
attended with the most happy effects. Moreover, the passions are
attended with correspondent commotions in animal nature, and,
therefore, the real temper will, of course, be discovered by the
countenance, the gesture, and the voice. Here I might run into a
pleasing enumeration of many instances of this; but, fearing that I
have already trespassed upon your patience, shall desist. Permit me,
however unusual, to close with a wish. May none of those unruly
passions ever captivate any of my audience."
_An Attempt to search the Origin of Idolatry._
"It is altogether impossible to fix exactly the period when idolatry
took its rise. Adam, coming immediately from the hands of God, had
experienced too many manifestations of his power and goodness to be
unacquainted with him, and must have preserved the purest idea of him
in his own family, which, most probably, continued in the branch of
Seth till the deluge. The posterity of Cain, on the contrary (the pure
idea of God gradually wearing away, and by loose men being connected
with sense), fell into idolatry, and every other crime, which brought
on the deluge; a period about which Moses has said but little, and
from what he has said we can draw no just conclusion with respect to
the idolatry of those times.
"A certain author, being persuaded that idolatry did not take its rise
till after the deluge, gives a very singular account of its origin.
According to him, atheism had spread itself over the world. This
disposition of mind, says he, is the capital crime. Atheists are much
more odious to the Divinity than idolaters. Besides, this principle is
much more capable of leading men into that excessive corruption the
world fell into before the deluge. The knowledge of a God, of whatever
nature he is conceived, and the worship of a Deity, are apt, of
themselves, to be a restraint upon men. So that idolatry was of some
use to bear down the corruption of the world. It is therefore
probable, that the horrid vices men were fallen into before the
deluge, proceeded only from their not knowing nor serving a God. I am
even of opinion (continues he) that the idolatry and polytheism after
the deluge derived their origin from the atheism and impiety that
reigned before it. Such is the temper of men, when they have been
severely punished for any crime, they run into the opposite extreme. I
conjecture (concludes the same author) this was the case with men
after the deluge. As they reckoned that this terrible judgment, which
carried such indications of Divine wrath, was sent for the punishment
of atheism, they ran into the opposite extreme. They adored whatever
seemed to deserve their worship.
"It is true, indeed, that idolatry is capable of furnishing a curb
against irregularity of manners; but this author has conjectured,
without foundation, that atheism reigned universally before the
deluge. He ought, at least, to have excepted the posterity of Seth.
"However idolatry might have reigned before the deluge, it is certain
that the knowledge and worship of the true God were again united in
the family of Noah; and as long as the children and grandchildren of
that patriarch made but one family, in all probability, the worship of
the true God was little altered in its purity. Noah being at the head
of the people, and Shem, Ham, and Japheth witnesses of God's vengeance
on their contemporaries, is it probable that they, living in the midst
of their families, would suffer them to depart from the truth? We read
of nothing that can incline us to this belief. Various have been the
conjectures concerning the authors of idolatry. Some believe it was
Serug, the grandfather of Terah, who first introduced idolatry after
the deluge. Others maintain it was Nimrod, and that he instituted the
worship of fire among his subjects, which continues even to this day
in some places in Persia. Others assert that Ham was the author of it,
and then his son Canaan; and it is most probable that the unfortunate
sons of an accursed father were the first who, following the
propensity of their own heart, sought out sensible objects to which
they might offer a superstitious worship. As the two sons of Ham,
Canaan and Mizraim, settled, the one in Phoenicia, and the other in
Egypt, it is probable that these were the first nurseries of idolatry;
and the sun, being looked upon as the purest image of the Creator, was
the first object of it. It is not probable that men would choose
beings like themselves for the first objects of their adoration.
Nothing could be more capable of seducing than the beauty and
usefulness of the sun, dispensing light and fertility all around. But,
to conclude, we must not imagine that all idolatry sprang from the
same country. It came by slow degrees, and those who made the first
advances towards this impiety, did by no means carry it to that
extravagant height to which it afterwards arrived."