‘THE GRAPES OF WRATH’
I
When Congress convened in the winter of 1799, the Federalists thoroughly
appreciated the desperation of their situation. The tide of public
opinion was rising against them rapidly because of their measures, and
they were divided against themselves. As the sun of the once brilliant
party went down, there was one colossal figure of brilliant promise
silhouetted against the darkening sky, but John Marshall, now a member
of the House, was not in good odor with the Hamiltonians because of his
opposition to the Alien and Sedition Laws. The irrepressible clash of
contending policies and ambitions had been foreshadowed in the
difficulties Marshall had encountered in framing a Reply to Adams’s
Address that could command the united support of the party, and he had
succeeded measurably by giving the Reply a meaningless phrasing. For a
moment it seemed that Marshall might regain the confidence of his fellow
partisans when, in a speech of brilliancy and force, he had demolished
the flimsy case of the Democrats against the President in the matter of
Jonathan Robbins. With his characteristic readiness to concede the full
strength of an enemy, Jefferson had written Madison that in the debate
on Robbins ‘J. Marshall [distinguished himself] greatly.’[1697] But the
Federalist cheers for their new leader were speedily turned to groans
and hisses--and thereon hangs a tale of political infamy scarcely
approached in audacity in American history.
Almost two years before, when the French war hysteria was at its height
and the Federalists were cocks of the walk, the inner circle of the
party in the Senate met one night about the table in the Bingham
dining-room with the more moderate senatorial members. To assure party
solidarity on all important party measures, it was proposed to bind all
by the votes of the majority in a party caucus. The extremists had a
slight majority over the moderate element. Thus, for a season, the
Government was, to all practical purposes, in the hands of a Senate
oligarchy composed of a minority of the Senators. From the summer of
1799, the extremists entertained no illusions as to their popularity
with the country. The election of Jefferson seemed imminent--provided a
way could not be found to cheat him of his victory. From that moment on
until the hour of his final triumph by the vote of the House in 1801,
there was not a moment when the Federalist leaders were not ready to
adopt any method, however disreputable and desperate, to accomplish
their purpose. In this spirit they conceived the wicked scheme to rob
Jefferson of his victory through an amazing measure prescribing the mode
of deciding disputed elections for President and Vice-President. Senator
Ross of Pennsylvania agreed to sponsor the bill.
Briefly and baldly, this provided that on the opening and reading of the
certificates of the electoral votes in the presence of Congress, the
papers should be turned over to a grand committee consisting of six
members of each branch of Congress, with the Chief Justice as presiding
officer. The members of the House and Senate committees should be
elected by ballot. These, with the Chief Justice, were to go into secret
session behind locked doors. They were to have the power to send for
persons and papers, to pass on the qualifications of electors, and the
manner in which they had cast their votes; to investigate charges that
bribery, intimidation, persuasion, or force had been employed; and
finally, to decide which votes should be counted and which cast out.
This decision was to be final. In other words, it was a criminal scheme
and an unconstitutional plot to steal the election. It had the support
of the great majority of the best minds in the Federalist Party.
In keeping with the sinister nature of this monstrous measure, it was
proposed to withhold it carefully from the public until the consummation
of the crime. Happily there were members of Congress who did not
consider themselves bound in honor to protect dishonor from the light,
and almost immediately three copies of the bill found their way to the
office of Duane. Two of these were personally delivered with permission
to print and disclose the donors; one was mailed under cover.[1698] The
bill was immediately printed in full in ‘The Aurora’ with appropriate
comments, and the conspirators were dragged into the light. ‘The new
electoral council or college may be very fitly compared with the secret
Council of Ten at Venice of old,’ wrote the editor.[1699] Out of this
exposure grew the proceedings culminating in the prosecution for
sedition against Duane.
With the Federalists in control of both branches of Congress, it did not
appear at first to matter much. The leaders of the party had never
greatly concerned themselves with public opinion. They mustered their
men in the Senate for a vote, leaving a discussion of the measure to the
opposition. Behind the sorry smoke screen of the Duane prosecution they
marched unblushingly to their purpose. The final protest was made by
Charles Pinckney, the brilliant new leader of the Democrats in the
Senate, in a powerful constitutional argument that no one cared to
meet.[1700] ‘Equal in eloquence and strength of reasoning to anything
ever heard within the walls of Congress,’ said ‘The Aurora.’[1701] He
sat down. No one rose to reply. The question was taken on the passage of
the bill and it passed by a strict party vote of 16 to 12.
Meanwhile, the publicity given the rather brazen plan to steal the
election was having its reactions on the people, and Federalist members
of the House began to protest. There was no one in a more rebellious
mood than Marshall, who thought the situation too serious to permit him
to leave for home on the birth of his fifth child.[1702] With a more
far-reaching vision and a greater respect for public opinion than the
veteran leaders of his party, he made his objections audible. On the
floor of the House, on the street, at the boarding-house, he talked
boldly and incessantly against the measure. The Federalists were amazed,
disgusted. Some of the leaders who appreciated his ability observed his
insubordination with sorrow. They had doubted his ‘political judgment,’
but had counted on swaying him to their views because of his
companionable temperament. They took note of his ‘very affectionate
disposition,’ his attachment to pleasures, his conviviality, his seeming
‘indolence,’ and they cultivated him on the side of his weaknesses. But
they found him a difficult psychological problem. He had a timidity due
to his tendency to ‘feel the public pulse,’ was disposed to ‘erotic
refinement,’ and, worse still, to ‘express great respect for the
sovereign people.’ With all this he possessed a persuasive power that
worked with fatal effect on ‘more feeble minds,’ and he was exerting
this power among the members with disastrous results.
Theodore Sedgwick, ponderous and pompous, and in politics insinuating,
was apparently delegated to coax Marshall into the conspiracy. A number
of heart-to-heart talks with the rebel followed. The Virginian doubted
the constitutional ‘power of the legislature to delegate such authority
to a Committee.’ After a long talk he ‘confessed himself ... to be
convinced,’ but shifted, according to Sedgwick, to the ground that the
people had authorized the members to decide, each for himself, in the
case of election disputes. In its nature this power was ‘too delicate to
be delegated.’ To Sedgwick this was ‘so attenuated and unsubstantial’ as
to be beyond his comprehension, and Marshall was persuaded to abandon
this ground too. But ‘in the meantime he had dwelt so much in
conversation on these subjects that he had dissipated our majority,’
Sedgwick wrote King.[1703]
When the discussions opened in the House, Marshall questioned the
propriety of the Senate naming the chairman of the committee and of
making the decision final, and offered an amendment.[1704] This was
followed by other amendments and ultimately by the revamping of the
whole measure. The Senate refused to accept the amendments, and thus the
measure died between the two houses. Duane was jubilant. Here was
evidence of the value of a free press. The ‘odious bill was introduced
for party purposes,’ and a party in the Senate ‘sought to overwhelm by
terror and oppression the men who dared to publish the bill, which even
after numerous amendments was found too abominable to be countenanced by
the House of Representatives.’[1705] The Federalists were downcast and
indignant. Senator Tracy, who had no political scruples, declared that
‘Marshall has spoiled all the fair hopes founded on Mr. Ross’s
bill.’[1706] Thus Marshall saved the country from revolution and
Jefferson from defeat regardless of the vote--as Hamilton was to save
him later.
II
The campaign was now on, but from this time we shall hear little of the
activities of Jefferson. His work was done. Back to his beloved hilltop
he hurried on the adjournment of Congress, and there he remained,
apparently less concerned with politics than with potatoes. But he had
already created the machinery, trained the mechanicians, supplied the
munitions of victory, found means for financing the enterprise--and he
left the work with his lieutenants.
In the leadership of his party Jefferson had no rival, and he was the
idol of his followers, ‘the people’s friend.’ The persecution he had met
had but endeared him more to his supporters. He was their Messiah. On
New Year’s Eve in 1799, a company of Democrats spent the evening in
conversation and songs until the new year came. Then, headed by a
regimental band, they marched through the dark streets of Philadelphia,
past the homes of the rich and fashionable blazing with light, to pay
their respects to Jefferson at his lodgings. On the way, they
encountered another large group, who, unknown to the first, had
conceived the same plan for declaring their allegiance. The two crowds
fraternized and marched on together. With cheers and shouts they
summoned their leader to the door. When the tall, familiar figure
appeared, the welkin rang, the band played, and a song, written for the
occasion, was sung.[1707] The incident is significant of the common
recognition of Jefferson’s leadership.
During the two preceding years the consummate political genius of
Jefferson had been planning the programme for the struggle of 1800. The
congressional strategy of his party had been his work, and night after
night he had gathered his lieutenants about him at the dinner table of
the Indian Queen and given his orders for the morrow. If the party
platform had not then been conceived, he had his programme, which met
the purpose. Writing Madison in January, 1799, he proposed that all
possible emphasis be put upon the Alien and Sedition Laws, the direct
tax, the army and navy, ‘the usurious loan to set these follies on
foot,’ and on the picture of ‘recruiting officers lounging at every
court-house and decoying the laborer from his plough.’[1708] About the
same time he was expanding this programme in a letter to Gerry: The
constitutional rights of the States should be asserted. The right of
Congress to ‘its constitutional share in the division of power’ should
be maintained. The Government should be ‘rigorously frugal’ and all
possible savings should be applied to the discharge of the public debt.
The multiplication of offices should be stopped. A standing army in time
of peace should be attacked. Free commerce should be maintained with all
nations, and there should be ‘political connections with none.’ The
liberty of speech and the freedom of the press should be
preserved.[1709]
That same month he was writing Edmund Pendleton in the same vein--the
‘direct tax,’ the ‘army and navy in time of peace,’ the ‘usurious
interest,’ the ‘recruiting officers at every court-house to decoy the
laborer from his plough.’[1710] In these letters we have the first
Jeffersonian platform--and on these points, from that time on, the
Democrats harped constantly in Congress, in pamphlets and through the
press. Not least, nor least effective, among the methods of propaganda
were the congressional letters with which the Jeffersonian members
flooded their constituents, setting forth in vigorous fashion all the
counts in the indictment. As these letters fell upon the country like a
snowstorm, the Federalists were infuriated. They summoned their Federal
Judges to denounce them in charges to grand juries, and Iredell
foolishly responded. In Congress they hinted darkly that these records
of public affairs sent by public servants to the public they served were
seditious. Many years afterward Adams recalled them with rage--these
letters that ‘swelled, raged, foamed in all the fury of a tempest at sea
against me,’ a flood so enormous that ‘a collection of those letters
would make many volumes.’ Adams never forgave his party for finding no
means for their suppression.[1711]
These letters were part of the Jeffersonian plan to reach the people and
set the tongues to wagging. Everywhere Jefferson was encouraging his
followers to establish newspapers. Soon Noah Webster’s paper was
complaining that the irrepressible Matthew Lyon ‘in the course of one
year has established no less than four ... presses.’[1712] Was money
needed for the publication of pamphlets or the distribution of
newspapers? Jefferson made out a subscription list, put his friends down
for a contribution, and informed them of his action without apology.
Thus, to Monroe: An important measure is under contemplation which ‘will
require a considerable sum of money.’ He had therefore put Monroe down
for from fifty to a hundred dollars.[1713] Thus, to Madison: ‘Every man
must lay his pen and his purse under contribution.’[1714] Were articles
required? He sent instructions to his friends to write. Thus, to
Pendleton, asking him to prepare a pamphlet on the Gerry
correspondence,[1715] and to Madison asking him to ‘set aside a portion
of every post day to write what may be proper for the public.’[1716]
Were pamphlets printed and ready for distribution? Then a letter from
Jefferson to men of the standing of Monroe ordering them to place them
in the hands of ‘the most influential characters among our countrymen
who are only misled.’[1717]
In every State he had men of political sagacity through whom he could
work while maintaining the semblance of aloofness. In Massachusetts,
Gerry; in New Hampshire, Langdon; in Connecticut, Bishop and Granger; in
New York, Livingston and Burr; in Pennsylvania, Gallatin, M’Kean, and
the Muhlenbergs; in Maryland, Mercer and General Sam Smith; in Virginia,
Madison, Monroe, Giles, and Pendleton; in Kentucky, John Breckenridge
and George Nicholson; in North Carolina, Macon, Jones, and Joseph Gales,
the clever and daring editor of the Raleigh ‘Register’ who put the
Federalists to the torture with the best paper in the State, which was
sent free to prospective converts;[1718] and in Tennessee, Senator
William Cocke, an old Amelia County Virginian, and William C. C.
Claiborne. In South Carolina, where the Hamiltonians were strong in the
support of the Pinckney brothers, and through the commercial interests
of Charleston, he was fortunate in having Charles Pinckney, more
brilliant, daring, picturesque, and magnetic than his cousins, and Peter
Freneau, brother of the poet, and editor of the ‘Charleston City News.’
Nowhere did the Jeffersonians make better progress against stubborn
resistance than in the Palmetto State. Thence Hamilton had long drawn
for talent, but his party was being gradually undermined. William Smith,
who recited speeches Hamilton had written, had retired to escape defeat
to a berth in Lisbon; and Harper, noting the premonitions of a storm,
had announced his retirement from Congress to seek consolation in the
glamour of the Carroll wealth and in the charms of a Carroll daughter in
Maryland.
This revolution was largely wrought through the management of a few
Jeffersonians who met night after night in Freneau’s office on George
Street to plan the fight. Either of two participants in these
conferences was a host within himself. There was Freneau--huge in frame,
and, aside from height, bearing a striking resemblance to Charles James
Fox in voice, conversation, and manners, with a literary style which a
contemporary found to combine ‘the beauty and smoothness of Addison and
the strength and simplicity of Cobbett.’ And there was Charles Pinckney,
handsome, imposing, a favorite of fortune, dominating in leadership,
eloquent and forceful in debate, conspicuous in the Constitutional
Convention in his twenties and Governor of his State at thirty-one.
There about the table, and over their cups we may be sure, they set
their traps, and planned their propaganda. Freneau would take up his pen
and literally dash off a powerful article with a facility and felicity
that called for no revision or correction; and Pinckney would write an
article to be signed ‘A Republican,’ or appear unexpectedly at a public
meeting to sweep the audience with him by the fire and force of his
eloquence.[1719] These men sallied forth to battle with a gallant gayety
suggested by their own facetious description of their conferences as
‘The Rye House Plot.’
Thus everywhere Jefferson had men on whom he could depend, and his
orders given, his work done, he could spend the summer and autumn of
1800 with his potatoes. There we must leave him and look elsewhere for
the drama of the fighting. Only twice during the campaign did he wander
farther from Monticello than Charlottesville. Mounted on his horse, he
rode daily over his plantation. Every evening he made his customary
notations in his farm account book. When Marie’s pianoforte arrived, he
might have been seen tuning it himself while the battle raged on many
fronts. He wrote his daughter the details of a neighborhood murder, and
of the prospects of the harvest, but nothing of politics. His work was
done. He had ploughed and sowed and tended--but the work in the
harvest-field was for others. In the early summer a strange tale
traveled throughout the country, recorded in all the papers, that he had
died suddenly. The papers printed it cautiously, however, and there was
no political motive in its circulation. At length it was explained. One
of his slaves named ‘Thomas Jefferson’ had died at Monticello. Jefferson
was never more alive than that summer on his hilltop.
III
That a tidal wave toward Democracy had set in was shown in the early
spring in the elections in New York, Massachusetts, and New Hampshire.
By common consent New York was put down as the pivotal State and both
parties planned to put forth their utmost efforts there. Jefferson,
still in Philadelphia, was keeping in intimate touch with the situation
through his correspondents in the State, and placing reliance on the
sagacity of Aaron Burr. As early as January, he was writing Monroe with
the utmost confidence of the result ‘on the strength of [his]
advices.’[1720] In March he was assuring Madison, on the representations
of Burr and Livingston, that the State was safe if the city of New York
could be carried.[1721] The Federalists, he found seriously alarmed.
‘Their speeches in private, as well as their public and private demeanor
toward me, indicate it strongly.’[1722] Hamilton himself had seemed so
depressed that Henry Lee had written rallying him on his pessimism and
urging him to ‘be more like yourself and resist to victory all your
foes.’[1723] He had replied with a touch of petulance that he was not
despondent and stood ‘on ground which, sooner or later, will assure me a
triumph over all my enemies.’[1724] But he was then facing the most
desperate fighting of his career, with Burr leading the opposition with
a smiling gayety that was disconcerting.
The prevailing fashion of picturing Hamilton as a saintly soul sent to
his death by a deep-dyed villain of the type once popular in the
melodrama, cannot conceal the amazing resemblance of these two men.
There were probably no other two men in the America of their day who
were so much alike. Physically both were small, compactly built, of
militant carriage, with penetrating eyes of different colors, and of
persuasive voices. Both were dandies in their dress, the glass of
fashion and the mould of form, courtly, Chesterfieldian, and dashing.
Both had demonstrated their courage and military sagacity on the field
of battle--Hamilton in the assault at Yorktown, Burr in carrying his
beloved Montgomery from the battle-field on his back, wading knee-deep
in snow, and amidst a rain of bullets. Burr, no less than Hamilton, had
served in the military household of Washington, and both alike had
resented their leader’s rather imperious manner. At the New York Bar
both had risen to eminence, and some hesitated to give the superiority
to either. Here their methods were different--Hamilton relying on
erudition where Burr depended on finesse, the former exhaustive in
argument, the latter concise. Both were effective orators in different
ways. Hamilton was declamatory, Burr conversational. Socially they had
many points of similarity, and in a social sense they were not averse to
one another’s company at dinner. In conversation one was scarcely more
scintillating than the other, and both were fond of badinage, and adept
in compliments to the ladies. Both were gallants, attractive to, and
attracted by, women of wit and beauty. Neither was above the intrigues
of love, with ideas of morality that would have been appreciated in the
London of the Restoration. If Burr kept his diary, which seems so
shocking to some, Hamilton had his pamphlet on his affair with Mrs.
Reynolds--but Burr did not publish his diary. Neither should be judged
too harshly, for it was a day of rather loose morals, and the press made
free with the gossip concerning Harper and Sedgwick. Both were
inordinately ambitious for command, impatient under restraint, and wont
to dream of leading triumphant armies. The ambition of neither was
circumscribed by the boundaries of the country. If Burr wished to lead
an army of conquest into Mexico, Hamilton longed to lead the same sort
of an army into South America.
Hamilton and Burr were natural enemies because too much alike in
temperament and ambition. Their hopes clashed. Both were deeply in love
with their wives, notwithstanding their transgressions. There is
something touching in Burr’s letters to his sick wife, his anxiety, his
consultations with physicians, his instructions to Theodosia. He was
idolized by wife and daughter because they, in turn, were idolized by
him. Unlike Hamilton, he was even tender with his servants. It is quite
impossible to conceive of Hamilton writing friendly letters to his men
and women domestics and slaves. To understand Burr’s fascination for
many, one thing must be borne in mind--he was loved because he was
lovable in his personal contacts.
These two men faced each other for a finish fight in the spring of
1800.[1725]
IV
In the early spring the surface indications were not favorable for a
Jeffersonian victory in the election that was to determine the political
complexion of the Legislature that would select the presidential
electors. The Federalists were seemingly entrenched. Behind them,
victories. Hamilton was openly active, Burr watchful like a cat. One of
the latter’s closest lieutenants wrote Gallatin of the situation
developing in March. ‘The Federalists have had a meeting and determined
on their Senators; they have also appointed a committee to nominate
suitable characters for the Assembly.... Mr. Hamilton is very busy, more
so than usual, and no exertions will be wanting on his part. Fortunately
Mr. Hamilton will have at this election a most powerful opponent in
Colonel Burr. This gentleman is exceedingly active; it is his opinion
that the Republicans had better not publish a ticket or call a meeting
until the Federalists have completed theirs. Mr. Burr is arranging
matters in such a way as to bring into operation all the Republican
interests.’[1726]
The purpose of Hamilton was twofold--to elect the Federalist electors,
and to elect only such electors as he could control against Adams. With
this in view he called a secret caucus composed of his most pliant
followers. Preferring tools to men of independence and capacity, the
caucus selected men of no popularity and little weight. Burr, who had an
incomparable system of espionage in this campaign, was instantly put in
possession of the ticket. The brilliant black eyes of the little
politician hastily and gravely scanned the list. Then, folding it and
placing it in his pocket, he murmured, ‘Now I have him hollow!’[1727]
Meanwhile, Burr had been busily engaged in the creation of a powerful,
compact organization. Like most brilliant men of ingratiating manners,
he had drawn about him a formidable array of the young men of the city
prepared to execute any orders he might give. This was his purely
personal following. He found the backbone of his organization in
Tammany.
The potentialities of that organization, composed, for the most part, of
men in the ordinary walks of life, the poor, the unimportant, he had
instantly sensed. They were democrats by instinct. Their Wigwam, a
one-story frame building, was so unprepossessing that the Federalists
dubbed it ‘The Pig Pen’--but that did not bother Burr. These men had
votes, and influence among others of their kind who had votes. They met
night after night to smoke their pipes and drink their ale, to tell
stories and talk politics. It is not of record that Burr ever entered
the Wigwam, but he was the Tammany boss notwithstanding, operating
through his friends who were the ostensible leaders. It was he, seated
in his law office, who moulded the policies. His suggestions whipped it
into shape as a fighting political organization.[1728] For weeks his
home had been crowded night after night with the most daring,
adventurous, and ardent members of his party. Most of them were young,
fit, and eager for any enterprise. Because there had been factions in
the party, he laid down the law on these occasions that personalities
should not be discussed or mentioned. These were to be submerged for the
campaign. Local considerations were to be ignored. Discipline was to be
maintained. Compromises necessary to solidarity were to be effected. The
all-important thing was to amalgamate every section of the party and
appeal to the people through a ticket notably superior to that of the
Federalists.
With the audacity of genius he determined that General Horatio Gates
should be a candidate for the Assembly. More daring still, that the
venerable George Clinton, many times Governor, should stand, and that
Brockholst Livingston, eminent as patriot and lawyer, should run. Samuel
Osgood, a former member of Congress, and Washington’s
Postmaster-General, was slated. It was easy to put them down--the
problem was to persuade them to accept. Here Burr’s genius for
leadership counted heavily. Time and again he labored without avail on
Clinton, Gates, and Livingston. At length Livingston agreed to stand
provided both Clinton and Gates would run. Straightway, Burr rushed to
Gates. It was a hard struggle. Burr pleaded, cajoled, flattered,
appealed to party pride. Finally Gates agreed to run if Clinton would
make the race. And there Burr almost met his Waterloo. The rugged old
war-horse was prejudiced against Jefferson. He had ambitions for the
Presidency himself, and they had been passed over. Burr left the matter
open, smiled, flattered, bowed, departed. Then, out from his office
committees began to make their way to Clinton with importunities to
stand. The personal friends of the stubborn old man were sent to
persuade him. He was adamant. A scene at Burr’s home at Richmond Hill:
Present, the nominating committee and Clinton. A mass movement on
Clinton--he would not budge. Then Burr’s master-stroke. A community had
a right to draft a man in a crisis--the crisis was at hand. Without his
consent they would nominate him. The rebellious veteran, flattered,
agreed not to repudiate the nomination. The victory was Burr’s--and
Jefferson’s.
A little later, the press announced that a meeting of the Democrats had
been held at the home of J. Adams, Jr., at 68 William Street, where the
Assembly ticket had been put up. Spirited resolutions were adopted. The
enthusiasm of the Jeffersonians reached fever heat. Hamilton and the
Federalists were paralyzed with amazement. The impossible had happened.
Against Hamilton’s mediocre tools--this ticket, composed of commanding
figures of national repute![1729] Immediately the frantic fears of the
Federalists were manifest in the efforts of ‘Portius’ in the ‘Commercial
Advertiser’ to frighten the party into action. Jefferson had become a
possibility--the author of the Mazzei letter! Clinton and Gates
candidates for the Assembly! Old men laden with honors who had retired,
in harness again! Clearly no office lured them--it must be the magnitude
of the issue. And who were Clinton, Gates, and Osgood? Enemies of the
Constitution! To your tents, O Federalists![1730] A few days later the
merchants met at the Tontine Coffee-House to endorse the Hamiltonian
ticket because ‘the election is peculiarly important to the mercantile
interests.’[1731] In the ‘Pig Pen’ the Tammanyites read of the action of
the merchants, clicked their glasses, and rejoiced. Hamilton, now
thoroughly alarmed, redoubled his efforts. The Federalist press began to
teem with hysterical attacks on Jefferson, Madison, and Clinton--men who
were planning the destruction of the Government.[1732]
Meanwhile, Burr, calm, confident, suave, silent, was giving New York
City its first example of practical politics. Money was needed--he
formed a finance committee to collect funds. Solicitors went forth to
wealthy members of the party to demand certain amounts--determined upon
by Burr. It was a master psychologist who scanned the subscription
lists. One parsimonious rich man was down for one hundred dollars.
‘Strike his name off,’ said Burr. ‘You will not get the money and ...
his exertions will cease and you will not see him at the polls.’
Another name--that of a lazy man liberal with donations. ‘Double the
amount and tell him no labor will be expected of him.’
With infinite care Burr card-indexed every voter in the city, his
political history, his present disposition, his temperament, his habits,
his state of health, the exertions probably necessary to get him to the
polls. The people had to be aroused--Burr organized precinct and ward
meetings, sent speakers, addressed them himself. And while Burr was
working, the lowliest too were working on the lowliest. One evening ‘a
large corpulent person with something of the appearance of Sir John
Falstaff’ was seen in the lobby of a theater ‘haranguing an old black
man who sells peanuts and apples to come forward and vote the Republican
ticket.’
‘You pay heavy taxes this year.’
‘Yes, Massa, me pay ten dollars.’
‘Well, if you vote the Republican ticket you will have little or no
taxes to pay next year; for if we Republicans succeed, the standing army
will be disbanded, which cost us almost a million of money last year.’
The peanut vendor promised to appear at the polls ‘with six more
free-born sons of the African race.’[1733] Whereupon the campaigner had
a tale to tell to the boys at the Wigwam that night.
The polls opened on April 29th and closed at sunset on May 2d. Days of
intense ceaseless activity. Hamilton and Burr took the field. From one
polling-place to another they rushed to harangue the voters. When they
met, they treated each other with courtly courtesy. Handbills were put
out, flooding the city during the voting. In the midst of the fight
Matthew L. Davis found time at midnight to send a hasty report to
Gallatin in Philadelphia. ‘This day he [Burr] has remained at the polls
of the Seventh ward ten hours without intermission. Pardon this hasty
scrawl. I have not ate for fifteen hours.’[1734] The result was a
sweeping triumph for the Democrats. When the news reached the Senate at
Philadelphia, the Federalists were so depressed and the Democrats so
jubilant that the transaction of business was impossible, and it
adjourned.[1735]
Hamilton was stunned, and ready for trickery to retrieve the lost
battle. The next night he was presiding over a secret meeting of
Federalists where it was agreed to ask Governor Jay to call an extra
session of the Legislature to deprive that body of the power to choose
electors. Hamilton approached Jay in a letter. ‘In times like these,’ he
wrote, ‘it will not do to be over-scrupulous.’ There should be no
objections to ‘taking of legal and constitutional steps to prevent an
atheist in religion and a fanatic in politics from getting possession of
the helm of state.’[1736] Jay read the letter with astonishment, made a
notation that it was a plan to serve a party purpose, and buried it in
the archives. It was the blackest blot on Hamilton’s record.
That victory elected Jefferson.
It destroyed Hamilton--and it made Burr Vice-President.
Scarcely had the polls closed when Burr’s friends, giving him the whole
credit, as he deserved, began to urge on the leaders in Philadelphia his
selection for the Vice-Presidency. Davis wrote Gallatin that the
Democrats of New York were bent on Burr.[1737] Admiral James Nicholas,
the father-in-law of Gallatin, wrote that the triumph was a miraculous
‘intervention of Supreme Power and our friend Burr, the agent.’ It was
his ‘generalship, perseverance, industry, and execution’ that did it,
and he deserved ‘anything and everything of his country.’ He had won ‘at
the risk of his life.’[1738] On May 12th Gallatin wrote his wife: ‘We
had last night a very large meeting of Republicans, in which it was
unanimously agreed to support Burr for Vice-President.’
That was a bitter month for the Federalists. In the gubernatorial
contests in New Hampshire and Massachusetts the Democrats had polled an
astonishing vote. Painfully labored were the efforts of the Federalist
press to explain these remarkable accessions. The ‘Centinel’ in Boston
had previously sounded a note of warning under the caption, ‘Americans,
Why Sleep Ye?’ The Democrats, it said, were ‘organized, officered,
accoutered, provided, and regularly paid.’ They were ‘systematized in
all points.’ In Pennsylvania a Jeffersonian Governor had thrown
Federalist office-holders ‘headlong from their posts.’ In New Hampshire
the Democrats were fighting ‘under cover of an ambuscade.’ In all States
new Jeffersonian presses were established, ‘from Portsmouth in New
Hampshire to Savannah in Georgia,’ through which ‘the orders of Generals
of the faction are transmitted with professional punctuality; which
presses serve as a sounding board to the notes that issue through that
great speaking trumpet of the Devil, the Philadelphia Aurora.’ Did not
Duane get the enormous salary of eight hundred dollars a year? ‘Why
Sleep Ye?’
Dismayed, disgruntled with Adams, but afraid to reject him openly, the
Federalist caucus convened in Philadelphia and selected Charles
Cotesworth Pinckney as his running mate with the idea of electing him to
the Presidency through treachery to Adams.
V
When Adams learned of the Federalist defeat in New York, he momentarily
went to pieces. His suspicious mind instantly saw in his humiliation the
hand of Hamilton and his supporters. He had long been cognizant of the
treachery about him, in his official household. On the morning of May
5th, McHenry received a note from the house on Market Street: ‘The
President requests Mr. McHenry’s company for one minute.’ As the
poet-politician walked up Market Street in response that spring morning,
he could not have conceived of any other issue than a brief discussion
of some departmental matter. Only a few weeks before he had, with
Adams’s knowledge, arranged for a house at Georgetown, and for the
removal of his family thither.[1739] As he had surmised, the subject
which had summoned him to the conference was a minor matter relating to
the appointment of a purveyor. This was satisfactorily disposed of. Was
there something smug or offensive in the manner of Hamilton’s messenger
that suddenly enraged the old man, smarting under the sting of the
defeat in New York? Suddenly he began to talk of McHenry’s derelictions,
his anger rising, his color mounting, his voice ringing with unrepressed
rage. McHenry thought him ‘mad.’ Washington, said Adams, had saddled him
with three Secretaries, Pickering, Wolcott, and McHenry. The latter had
refused to give a commission to the only elector in North Carolina who
had voted for Adams. He had influenced Washington to insist on giving
Hamilton the preference over Knox--which was true. In a report to
Congress, McHenry had eulogized Washington and sought to praise
Hamilton--the President’s enemy. He had urged the suspension of the
mission to France. The old man was spluttering with fury, and his
disloyal Secretary was dumb with amazement. It was time for him to
resign. McHenry beat a hasty retreat, returned to his office, prepared
his resignation, which in decency should have been voluntarily submitted
long before, and sent it in the next morning.[1740]
Having set himself to the task of ridding his household of his enemies,
Adams bethought himself of Pickering. Five days after the stormy scene
with McHenry, the austere Secretary of State received a note from the
President inviting a resignation. This was on Saturday. On Monday
morning, Pickering went to his office as usual, having been long
accustomed to ignoring or thwarting the wishes of his chief, and sent a
letter dealing, strangely enough, with his pecuniary embarrassments, and
refusing to resign.[1741] The letter had not been sent an hour before an
answer was in his hands. It was curt and comprehensive. ‘Divers causes
and considerations essential to the administration of the government, in
my judgment requiring a change in the department of state, you are
hereby discharged from any further service as Secretary of State.’[1742]
Hamilton, enraged at the dismissal of his servitors, hastened an
astonishing letter of instructions to Pickering. He should ‘take copies
and extracts of all such documents as will enable you to explain both
Jefferson and Adams.’ No doubt Pickering was ‘aware of a very curious
journal of the latter when he was in Europe--a tissue of weakness and
vanity.’ The time was coming when ‘men of real integrity and energy must
write against all empirics.’[1743] To McHenry he wrote that ‘a new and
more dangerous era has commenced’; that ‘Revolution and a new order of
things are avowed in this quarter’; and, with something of Adams’s
hysteria, that ‘property, liberty, and even life are at stake.’[1744]
The news that Adams had rid himself of his betrayers, and found in John
Marshall and Samuel Dexter as successors men incapable of treachery,
made a profound impression. To Duane of ‘The Aurora’ it was a
vindication. Two months before he had divided the Cabinet into
Hamiltonians and Adamsites, with Pickering and McHenry bearing the brand
of Hamilton.[1745] Announcing the dismissals under the caption, ‘The
Hydra Dying,’ he described Pickering as ‘an uncommon instance of the
mischiefs that may be done in a country by small and contemptible
talents and a narrow mind when set on fire by malignity.’[1746] The
Federalist papers were hard put to sugar-coat the pill. The ‘Centinel’
cautiously said that ‘the best men here have variant opinions on the
measure’ of Pickering’s dismissal.[1747] Three days later, it rushed to
the defense of the humiliated representative of the Essex Junto with the
comment that the best eulogy on his official conduct was ‘the chuckling
of the Jacobins over his removal’ and the assurance that he carried into
retirement ‘the regrets of all good men.’[1748] The Essex Junto made no
attempt to conceal their disgust. Cabot, Ames, Gore, and Pickering were
soon sending their versions to Rufus King in London. ‘You are so well
acquainted with the sort of sensibility for which our chief is
remarkable, that you will be less surprised than most men,’ wrote
Cabot.[1749] Gore wrote that the dismissal ‘produces general
discontent.’[1750] The delicate moral sensibilities of all these
politicians were much hurt because Adams had fallen into the habit of
swearing and using ‘billingsgate.’[1751] He was even speaking with
bitterness of the Essex Junto and the British faction, quite in the
manner of Jefferson. It was even ‘understood’ among the Hamiltonians
that the dismissals were the price of the alliance which had been formed
between Jefferson and Adams.[1752]
But Adams knew what he was about. He knew that a plan had been made to
trick him out of his reëlection. The scheme was bald, bold, stupid. All
the Federalist electors in the North would be urged to vote for Adams
and Pinckney; in the South enough would be asked to vote for Pinckney,
and not Adams, to bring the Hamiltonian Carolinian in ahead. Hamilton
was writing frankly to his friends in this vein, ready to ‘pursue
Pinckney as my single object’;[1753] while Gore was writing King that
‘the intention of the Federalists is to run General Pinckney and Mr.
Adams as President and Vice-President.’[1754] When, in July, Adams
appeared in Boston at a dinner and toasted Sam Adams and John Hancock,
the much-abused Jeffersonians, as ‘the proscribed patriots,’ the
Hamiltonians groaned their disgust and the Democrats shouted with glee.
‘This was well understood by the Jacobins whom it will not gain,’ wrote
Ames.[1755] ‘The Aurora’ observed that ‘he did not give the great orb
[Franklin] around which he moved as a satellite.’[1756] The rupture was
now complete. When Adams was permitted to leave Philadelphia without a
demonstration the latter part of May, ‘The Aurora’ was unseemly in its
mirth. ‘Did the Blues parade? No? What--not parade to salute him “whom
the people delight to honor”--“the rock on which the storm beats”--the
“chief who now commands”? Did not the officers of the standing army or
the marines parade? The new army officers are not fond of the President;
he has dismissed Timothy.’[1757]
Meanwhile, the most consummate of the betrayers, Wolcott, unsuspected
still, remained within the fort to signal to Hamilton.
VI
It was common knowledge early in the spring that Hamilton would exert
his ingenuity to defeat Adams by hook or crook. ‘The Aurora’ declared,
March 12th, that ‘the party with Alexander Hamilton at their head have
determined to defeat Adams in the approaching elections.’ The watchful
eye of the suspicious Adams, who felt the treachery, unquestionably read
the article and heard the gossip. When, after the death of Washington,
the Cincinnati met in New York to select Hamilton as the head of the
order, Adams was informed that his enemy had electioneered against him
among the members. He heard particularly of the action of ‘the learned
and pious Doctors Dwight and Babcock, who ... were attending as two
reverend knights of the order, with their blue ribbons and bright eagles
at their sable button-holes,’ in saying repeatedly in the room where the
society met, ‘We must sacrifice Adams,’ ‘We must sacrifice Adams.’
Thus, when in June, Hamilton, under the pretext of disbanding the army
in person, fared forth in his carriage on a tour of the New England
States, no one doubted the political character of his mission. His
purpose was to prevail upon the leaders to give unanimous support to
Pinckney and to drop a few Adams votes, or, that impossible, to give
Pinckney the same support as Adams. The records of this dramatic journey
are meager enough. It is known that in New Hampshire he talked with
Governor Gilman, who was the popular leader, and ‘took pains’ to impress
upon him ‘the errors and the defects of Mr. Adams and of the danger that
candidate cannot prevail by mere Federal strength.’ He urged support of
Pinckney on the ground that in the South he would get some anti-Federal
votes.[1758] In Rhode Island he evidently encountered a spirited
protest from Governor Fenner. The Governor expressed the hope that all
the electors would be Federalists, but clearly gave no encouragement to
the Pinckney candidacy, according to Hamilton’s own version of the
conference.[1759] There were other versions, however, indicative of a
stormy interview. The ‘Albany Register’ advised Hamilton, in giving the
story of his tour to the ‘Anglo-Federal party which wishes to make
Charles C. Pinckney President,’ to ‘forget his interview with the
Governor of Rhode Island.’[1760] ‘The Aurora’ followed in a few days
with a more circumstantial story. Hamilton had ‘warmly pressed Governor
Fenner to support Pinckney’ and ‘the old Governor’s eyes were opened and
he literally drove the gallant Alexander out of the door.’[1761] 3
But in Massachusetts, albeit the home of Adams, Hamilton could count
upon a cordial reception for his views, since it was also the home of
the Essex Junto. This was composed of the Big-Wigs of the party in that
State, all ardently devoted to Hamilton, sharing in his hate of
democracy and doubt of the Republic. For years these men had met at one
another’s homes and directed the politics of Massachusetts. They were
men of intellect and social prestige, intimately allied with commerce
and the law. There was George Cabot, the greatest and wisest of them
all, and one of the few men who dared tell Hamilton his faults. He was a
man of fine appearance, tall, well-moulded, elegant in his manners,
aristocratic in his bearing, earnest but never vehement in conversation;
a man of wealth, and a merchant.[1762] There was Fisher Ames, brilliant,
vivacious, smiling, cynical, eloquent, exclusive in his social tastes,
and wealthy. There was Theophilus Parsons, learned in the law,
contemptuous of public opinion and democracy, reactionary beyond most of
his conservative contemporaries, more concerned with property than with
human rights. Tall, slender, cold in his manner, colder in his
reasoning, he stood out among the other members of the Junto because of
his slovenliness in dress. Among his friends, at the dinner table, he
was a brilliant conversationalist, for he liked nothing better than to
eat and drink, talk and laugh, unless it was to smoke, chew tobacco, and
use snuff.[1763] He was the personification of the political
intolerance of his class. There, too, was Stephen Higginson, one of the
wealthiest and most cultured merchants of his day, a handsome figure of
a man who took infinite pains with his toilet and always carried a
gold-headed cane. Given to writing for the press, he made ferocious
attacks on John Hancock under the _nom-de-plume_ of ‘Laco,’ and the
truckmen on State Street whom he passed on his way to business taught a
parrot to cry, ‘Hurrah for Hancock; damn Laco.’ So intolerant and
bigoted was his household that a child, hearing a visitor suggest that a
Democrat might be honest, was shocked.[1764] There also was John Lowell,
able lawyer, cultured, ultra-conservative, disdainful of democracy; and
there was Christopher Gore, who amassed a fortune in speculation, and
held a brilliant position at the Bar. A striking figure he was, when he
appeared at the unconventional meetings of the group, tall, stout, with
black eyes and florid complexion, his hair tied behind and dressed with
powder, courtly in his manners, eloquent in speech, utterly intolerant
in his Federalism, and completely devoted to Hamilton’s policies.[1765]
These and their satellites were Hamilton’s Boston friends; more, they
were the backbone of his personal organization, his shock troops. Thus,
when he crossed into Massachusetts on his tour, he was going to his own
with the knowledge that they would receive him gladly--and they did.
Reaching Boston on Saturday evening, he conferred with his friends, and
on Sunday ‘attended divine services at the Rev. Mr. Kirkland’s.’ On
Monday a dinner was given in his honor, where, the party paper insisted,
‘the company was the most respectable ever assembled in the town on a
similar occasion.’ General Lincoln presided. Higginson and Major Russell
of the ‘Centinel’ were vice-presidents. Governor Strong, the
Lieutenant-Governor, the Speaker of the House, Chief Justice Dana, Ames,
Cabot, several members of Congress, and members of ‘the Reverend Clergy’
sat about the boards. ‘The tables were loaded with every dainty the
season affords and every luxury which could be procured.’[1766] It
appears that some Adamsites or Jeffersonians declined to do homage, for
we find the ‘Centinel’ commenting that ‘had a certain citizen known that
General Hamilton resembled his demi-god, Bonaparte, instead of refusing
a ticket to the dinner he would have solicited the honor of kissing--his
hand.’[1767] The Hamiltonians were clearly delighted with the occasion;
Hamilton himself expanded and talked with freedom in the friendly
atmosphere. He talked for Pinckney and against Adams; and in an
especially expansive moment, dwelling on the sinister presumption of
democracy, said that within four years ‘he would either lose his head or
be the leader of a triumphant army.’ The dinner over, the conference
concluded, he made an inspection of Fort Independence on Castle Island,
and was on his way, accompanied ‘as far as Lynn by a cavalcade of
citizens.’[1768] Everything had been carried off with becoming _éclat_,
for had he not stayed at ‘the elegant boarding house of Mrs.
Carter?’[1769] Unhappily the carriage in which he rode with the
‘cavalcade’ broke down in the middle of the street,[1770] to the delight
of the Jacobins, but his composure gave his followers much satisfaction.
Had not the Adamsites implied that he had received the cold shoulder
elsewhere in Massachusetts we might never have known his activities
beyond Lynn. He was ‘everywhere welcomed with unequivocable marks of
respect, cordiality, and friendship.’ He dined in Salem with Mr.
Pickman, ‘drank tea at Ipswich,’ arrived at Davenport’s late in the
evening, departed early in the morning for Portsmouth, and reached
Newburyport on Sunday. That is the reason there was no demonstration
there. But there in the evening he stayed with Parsons ‘in company with
some of the most respectable gentlemen of the town.’[1771]
But Hamilton and the Junto were not soon to hear the last of that tour.
The Democrats harped incessantly on the promise to lose his head or be
the leader of a triumphant army. ‘We have often heard of a French
gasconade,’ said ‘The Aurora,’ ‘but we have now to place alongside of it
a Creole gasconade in America. Alexander Hamilton leading an army to
effect a Revolution! Why, the very idea is as pregnant with laughter as
if we were to be told of Sir John Falstaff’s military
achievements.’[1772] ‘Manlius’ rushed to the attack, ostensibly in
behalf of Adams, in the ‘Chronicle.’ Why this trip to ‘disband the
army’? Had Hamilton ever been in the camp before? Had he appeared ‘to
plant the seed of distrust in the bosom of the troops? against Adams?’
And what a painful effect upon the great men of Boston! ‘Your personal
appearance threw poor Cabot into the shade. Even what had been deemed
eloquence in the smiling Ames was soon reduced to commentary; and so
petrifying was your power that our District Judge has scarcely since
dared to report an assertion from his Magnus Apollo of Brookline, either
on politics or banking.’ And lose his head or lead a triumphant army if
Pinckney were not elected? ‘Your vanity was more gross than even your
ignorance of the characters of the people of the eastern States.’[1773]
Two months later, the echoes were still heard. The Reverend Mr.
Kirkland, flattered by Hamilton’s cultivation and ingratiation, and
young, not content with indiscreetly repeating Hamilton’s observations
made in company, rushed into the papers with an attack on Adams and a
glorification of Hamilton. What a disgrace to the clergy, wrote ‘No
Politician,’ for this flattered youth ‘to vindicate the character of a
confessed adulterer, and artfully to sap the well-earned reputation of
President Adams.’[1774] Even King heard from a Bostonian that Hamilton
‘in his mode of handling [political themes] did not appear to be the
great General which his great talents designate him.’[1775] But Hamilton
made his observations and reached his conclusions--that the leaders of
the first order were in a mood to repudiate Adams, but that those of the
second order, more numerous, were almost solidly for him. He merely
changed his tactics.