AS the year 1804 began, with Louisiana annexed, the Electoral
Amendment secured, and the impeachments in prospect, the Federalists
in Congress wrought themselves into a dangerous state of excitement.
All agreed that the crisis was at hand; democracy had nearly reached
its limit; and, as Justice Chase said from the bench, peace and
order, freedom and property, would soon be destroyed. They discussed
in private what should be done; and among the New Englanders almost
all the men of weight were found to favor the policy of at least
saving New England. Of the six Federalist senators from the Eastern
States,--Plumer and Olcott of New Hampshire, Pickering and Adams of
Massachusetts, Tracy and Hillhouse of Connecticut,--all but Olcott
and Adams thought a dissolution of the Union inevitable.[101] Among
the Federalist members of the House, Roger Griswold of Connecticut
was the most active; he too was convinced that New England must
protect herself. Samuel Hunt of New Hampshire, and Calvin Goddard of
Connecticut held the same opinion. Indeed, Pickering declared that he
did not know “one reflecting Nov-Anglian” who held any other.
In the month of January, 1804, despair turned into conspiracy.
Pickering, Tracy, Griswold, Plumer, and perhaps others of the New
England delegation, agreed to organize a movement in their States
for a dissolution of the Union. They wrote to their most influential
constituents, and sketched a plan of action. In a letter to George
Cabot, Pickering recounted the impending dangers[102]:--
“By the Philadelphia papers I see that the Supreme Court judges
of Pennsylvania are to be hurled from their seats, on the
pretence that in punishing one Thomas Passmore for a contempt
they acted illegally and tyrannically. I presume that Shippen,
Yates, and Smith are to be removed by the Governor, on the
representation of the Legislature. And when such grounds are
taken in the National and State legislatures to destroy the
rights of the judges, whose rights can be safe? Why destroy
_them_, unless as the prelude to the destruction of every
influential Federalist and of every man of considerable property
who is not of the reigning sect? New judges, of characters and
tempers suited to the object, will be the selected ministers of
vengeance.”
A separation, Pickering inferred, had become necessary; but when and
how was it to be effected?
“If Federalism is crumbling away in New England, there is no
time to be lost, lest it should be overwhelmed and become unable
to attempt its own relief; its last refuge is New England,
and immediate exertion perhaps its only hope. It must begin in
Massachusetts. The proposition would be welcomed in Connecticut;
and could we doubt of New Hampshire? But New York must be
associated; and how is her concurrence to be obtained? She must
be made the centre of the confederacy. Vermont and New Jersey
would follow of course, and Rhode Island of necessity. Who can
be consulted, and who will take the lead? The legislatures of
Massachusetts and Connecticut meet in May, and of New Hampshire
in the same month, or June. The subject has engaged the
contemplation of many. The Connecticut gentlemen have seriously
meditated upon it.... Tracy has written to several of his most
distinguished friends in Connecticut, and may soon receive
their answers. R. Griswold, examining the finances, has found
that the States above mentioned, to be embraced by the Northern
confederacy, now pay as much or more of the public revenues as
would discharge their share of the public debts due those States
and abroad, leaving out the millions given for Louisiana.”
Roger Griswold wrote a few weeks afterward to Oliver Wolcott in similar
terms:[103]--
“The project which we had formed was to induce, if possible,
the legislatures of the three New England States who remain
Federal to commence measures which should call for a reunion
of the Northern States. The extent of those measures, and the
rapidity with which they shall be followed up, must be governed
by circumstances. The magnitude and jealousy of Massachusetts
would render it necessary that the operation should be commenced
there. If any hope can be created that New York will ultimately
support the plan, it may perhaps be supported.”
The first action, said he, must come from the Legislature of
Massachusetts, which was not yet elected, but would meet early in
June. Connecticut and New Hampshire were to follow; and to Pickering’s
sanguine mind the Northern Confederacy seemed already established.
“The people of the East,” he said, “cannot reconcile their habits,
views, and interests with those of the South and West. The latter are
beginning to rule with a rod of iron.”
Pickering knew that the Federalist majority in Massachusetts was none
too great. The election in May, four months later, showed a Federalist
vote of 30,000 against a Republican minority of 24,000, while in the
Legislature Harrison Gray Otis was chosen Speaker by 129 votes to 103.
Pickering knew also that his colleague, Senator Adams, was watching
his movements with increasing ill-will, which Pickering lost no chance
to exasperate. Nothing could be more certain than that at the first
suggestion of disunion Senator Adams and the moderate Federalists would
attack the Essex Junto with the bitterness of long-suppressed hatred;
and if they could not command fourteen votes in the Legislature and
three thousand in the State, a great change must have occurred since
the year before, when they elected Adams to the Senate for the long
term over Pickering’s head. Pickering concealed his doings from his
colleague; but Tracy was not so cautious. Adams learned the secret
from Tracy; and the two senators from Massachusetts drew farther and
farther apart, in spite of the impeachments, which tended to force them
together.
The Essex Junto, which sent Pickering to Washington, and to which he
appealed for support, read his letter with evident astonishment. George
Cabot, Chief-Justice Parsons, Fisher Ames, and Stephen Higginson,
who were the leaders consulted,[104] agreed that the scheme was
impracticable; and Cabot, as gently as possible, put their common
decision into words.
“All the evils you describe,” he said,[105] “and many more, are
to be apprehended; but I greatly fear that a separation would
be no remedy, because the source of them is in the political
theories of our country and in ourselves. A separation at some
period not very remote may probably take place,--the first
impression of it is even now favorably received by many; but I
cannot flatter myself with the expectation of essential good
to proceed from it while we retain maxims and principles which
all experience, and I may add reason too, pronounce to be
impracticable and absurd. Even in New England, where there is
among the body of the people more wisdom and virtue than in any
other part of the United States, we are full of errors which no
reasoning could eradicate if there were a Lycurgus in every
village. We are democratic altogether; and I hold democracy in
its natural operation to be the government of the worst.
“There is no energy in the Federal party, and there could
be none manifested without great hazard of losing the State
government. Some of our best men in high stations are kept in
office because they forbear to exert any influence, and not
because they possess right principles. They are permitted to
have power if they will not use it.... I incline to the opinion
that the essential alterations which may in future be made to
amend our form of government will be the consequences only of
great suffering or the immediate effects of violence. If we
should be made to feel a very great calamity from the abuse
of power by the National Administration, we might do almost
anything; but it would be idle to talk to the deaf, to warn
the people of distant evils. By this time you will suppose I
am willing to do nothing but submit to fate. I would not be
so understood. I am convinced we cannot do what is wished;
but we can do much, if we work with Nature (or the course of
things), and not against her. A separation is now impracticable,
because we do not feel the necessity or utility of it. The same
separation then will be unavoidable when our loyalty to the
Union is generally perceived to be the instrument of debasement
and impoverishment. If it is prematurely attempted, those
few only will promote it who discern what is hidden from the
multitude.”
Cabot’s letter, more clearly than any writing of Alexander Hamilton
himself, expressed the philosophy and marked the tactics of their
school. Neither Cabot nor Hamilton was a lively writer, and the dust
which has gathered deep on their doctrines dulls whatever brilliancy
they once possessed; but this letter showed why Cabot was considered
the wisest head in his party, to whose rebuke even Hamilton was forced
to bow. For patient and willing students who have groped in search
of the idea which, used by Hamilton and Jefferson, caused bitterer
feeling and roused deeper terrors than civil war itself, Cabot’s long
and perhaps pedantic letter on the policy of disunion was full of
meaning. “We shall go the way of all governments wholly popular,--from
bad to worse,--until the evils, no longer tolerable, shall generate
their own remedies.” Democracy must end in a crisis, experience and
reason pronounced it impracticable and absurd, Nature would in due
time vindicate her own laws; and when the inevitable chaos should
come, then conservative statesmanship could set society on a sound
footing by limiting the suffrage to those citizens who might hold in
their own right two thousand dollars value in land. Meanwhile disunion
would be useless, and the attempt to bring it about would break up the
Federalist party. “A war with Great Britain manifestly provoked by our
rulers” was the only chance which Cabot foresaw of bringing the people
of New England to a dissolution of the Union.
Pickering was not so intelligent as Cabot, Parsons, and Ames; his
temper was harsher than theirs; he was impatient of control, and never
forgot or wholly forgave those who forced him to follow another course
than the one he chose. Cabot’s letter showed a sense of these traits;
for though it was in the nature of a command or entreaty to cease
discussing disunion, if the Federalist party in Massachusetts were to
be saved, it was couched in gentle language, and without affecting a
tone of advice suggested ideas which ought to guide Federalists in
Congress. Pickering was to wait for the crisis. Inaction was easy; and
even though the crisis should be delayed five or ten years,--a case
hardly to be supposed,--no step could be taken without a blunder before
the public should be ready for it. With this simple and sound principle
to guide them, conservatives could not go wrong. Cabot there left the
matter.
Such gentleness toward a man of Pickering’s temper was a mistake,
which helped to cost the life of one whom conservatives regarded
as their future leader in the crisis. Pickering was restive under
the sense that his friends preferred other counsellors; whereas his
experience and high offices, to say nothing of his ability, entitled
him, as he thought, to greater weight in the party than Hamilton,
Cabot, or Rufus King. Backed by Tracy, Griswold, and other men of
standing, Pickering felt able to cope with opposition. His rough sense
and democratic instincts warned him that the fine-drawn political
theories of George Cabot and Theophilus Parsons might end in impotence.
He could see no reason why Massachusetts, once corrupted, might not
wallow in democratic iniquities with as much pleasure as New York
or Pennsylvania; and all that was worth saving might be lost before
her democracy would consent to eat the husks of repentance and ask
forgiveness from the wise and good. Cabot wanted to wait a few months
or years until democracy should work out its own fate; and whenever
the public should yearn for repose, America would find her Pitt and
Bonaparte combined in the political grasp and military genius of
Alexander Hamilton. Pickering, as a practical politician, felt that
if democracy were suffered to pull down the hierarchy of New England,
neither disunion nor foreign war, nor “a very great calamity” of any
kind, could with certainty restore what had once been destroyed.
Cabot’s argument shook none of Pickering’s convictions; but the
practical difficulty on which the home Junto relied was fatal
unless some way of removing it could be invented. During the month
of February, 1804, when the impeachment panic was at its height in
Congress, Pickering, Tracy, and Plumer received letter after letter
from New England, all telling the same story. The eminent Judge Tapping
Reeve, of Connecticut, wrote to Tracy:[106] “I have seen many of our
friends; and all that I have seen and most that I have heard from
believe that we must separate, and that this is the most favorable
moment.” He had heard only one objection,--that the country was not
prepared; but this objection, which meant that the disunionists were
a minority, was echoed from all New England. The conspirators dared
not openly discuss the project. “There are few among my acquaintance,”
wrote Pickering’s nephew, Theodore Lyman,[107] “with whom I could on
that subject freely converse; there may be more ready than I am aware
of.” Plumer found a great majority of the New Hampshire Federalists
decidedly opposed. Roger Griswold, toward the end of the session,
summed up the result in his letter to Oliver Wolcott:--
“We have endeavored during this session to rouse our friends in
New England to make some bold exertions in that quarter. They
generally tell us that they are sensible of the danger, that
the Northern States must unite; but they think the time has not
yet arrived. Prudence is undoubtedly necessary; but when it
degenerates into procrastination it becomes fatal. Whilst we are
waiting for the time to arrive in New England, it is certain
the democracy is making daily inroads upon us, and our means of
resistance are lessening every day. Yet it appears impossible to
induce our friends to make any decisive exertions. Under these
circumstances I have been induced to look to New York.”
The representatives of the wise and good looked at politics with eyes
which saw no farther than those of the most profligate democrat into
the morality of the game. Pickering enjoyed hearing himself called
“honest Tim Pickering,” as though he were willing to imply a tinge
of dishonesty in others, even in the Puritan society of Wenham and
Salem. Griswold was to the end of his life a highly respected citizen
of Connecticut, and died while governor of the State. That both these
worthy men should conspire to break up the Union implied to their minds
no dishonesty, because they both held that the Republican majority
had by its illegal measures already destroyed the Constitution which
they had sworn to support; but although such casuistry might excuse in
their own consciences the act of conspiracy, neither this reasoning
nor any other consistent with self-respect warranted their next step.
Griswold’s remark that the procrastination of New England had led him
to look to New York was not quite candid; his plan had from the first
depended on New York. Pickering had written to Cabot at the outset,
“She must be made the centre of the confederacy.” New York seemed,
more than New England, unfit to be made the centre of a Northern
confederacy, because there the Federalist party was a relatively
small minority. If Massachusetts and Connecticut showed fatal apathy,
in New York actual repulsion existed; the extreme Federalists had
no following. To bring New York to the Federalism of Pickering and
Griswold, the Federalist party needed to recover power under a leader
willing to do its work. The idea implied a bargain and an intrigue on
terms such as in the Middle Ages the Devil was believed to impose upon
the ambitious and reckless. Pickering and Griswold could win their game
only by bartering their souls; they must invoke the Mephistopheles of
politics, Aaron Burr.
To this they had made up their minds from the beginning. Burr’s four
years of office were drawing to a close. The Virginians had paid
him the price he asked for replacing them in power; and had it been
Shylock’s pound of flesh, they could not have looked with greater
care to see that Burr should get neither more nor less, even in the
estimation of a hair, than the exact price they had covenanted to pay.
In another year the debt would be discharged, and the Virginians would
be free. Burr had not a chance of regaining a commanding place among
Republicans, for he was bankrupt in private and public character. In
New York the Clintons never ceased their attacks, with the evident
wish to drive him from the party. Cheetham, after publishing in 1802
two heavy pamphlets, a “Narrative” and a “View,” attempted in 1803 to
crush him under the weight of a still heavier volume, containing “Nine
Letters on the Subject of Aaron Burr’s Political Defection.” Nov. 16,
1803, the “Albany Register” at length followed Cheetham’s lead; and
nearly all the other democratic newspapers followed the “Register,”
abandoning Burr as a man who no longer deserved confidence.
Till near the close of 1803 the Vice-President held his peace.
The first sign that he meant energetic retaliation was given by
an anonymous pamphlet,[108] which won the rare double triumph of
political and literary success, in which ability and ill temper seemed
to have equal shares. The unexpected appearance of “Aristides” startled
New York. This attack recalled the scandal which Alexander Hamilton had
created four years before by his pamphlet against his own President.
“Aristides” wrote with even more bitterness than Hamilton, and the
ferocity of his assault on the personal and political characters of
the Republican leaders made the invectives of Hamilton and Cheetham
somewhat tame; but the scandal in each case was due not so much to
personalities of abuse as to breaches of confidence. “Aristides”
furnished to the enemies of the Clintons and Livingstons an arsenal
of poisoned weapons; but what was more to the purpose, his defence of
Burr was strong. That it came directly from the Vice-President was
clear; but the pamphlet showed more literary ability than Burr claimed,
and the world was at a loss to discover who could be held responsible
for its severities. Cheetham tried in vain to pierce the incognito.
Not till long afterward was “Aristides” acknowledged by Burr’s most
intimate friend, William Peter Van Ness.
An attempt to separate what was just from what was undeserved in Van
Ness’s reproaches of the Clintons and Livingstons would be useless. The
Clintons and Livingstons, however unprincipled they might be, could say
that they were more respectable than Burr; but though this were true
so far as social standing was concerned, they could not easily show
that as a politician the Vice-President was worse than his neighbors.
The New England Federalists knew well that Burr was not to be trusted,
but they did not think much worse of him than they thought of De Witt
Clinton, or John Armstrong, or Edward Livingston, at this moment
removed from office by Jefferson for failing to account for thirty
thousand dollars due to the United States Treasury. As a politician
Burr had played fast and loose with all parties; but so had most of
his enemies. Seeing that he was about to try another cast of the dice,
all the political gamblers gathered round to help or hurt his further
fortunes; and Van Ness might fairly have said that in the matter of
principle or political morality, none of them could show clean hands.
Although Vice-President until March, 1805, Burr announced that he meant
to offer himself as a candidate for the post of governor of New York in
April, 1804. At the same time Governor Clinton privately gave warning
of his own retirement. De Witt Clinton was annoyed at his uncle’s
conduct, and tried to prevent the withdrawal by again calling Jefferson
to his aid and alarming him with fear of Burr.
“A certain gentleman was to leave this place yesterday morning,”
wrote De Witt to the President.[109] “He has been very active in
procuring information as to his probable success for governor
at the next election. This, I believe, is his intention at
present, although it is certain that if the present Governor
will consent to be a candidate, he will prevail by an immense
majority.... Perhaps a letter from you may be of singular
service.”
Jefferson declined to interfere, putting his refusal on the ground of
Burr’s candidacy.
“I should think it indeed a serious misfortune,” was his
reply,[110] “should a change in the administration of your
government be hazarded before its present principles be well
established through all its parts; yet on reflection you will be
sensible that the delicacy of my situation, considering who may
be competitors, forbids my intermeddling even so far as to write
the letter you suggest. I can therefore only brood in silence
over my secret wishes.”
No real confidence ever existed between Jefferson and the Clintons.
A few days after these letters were written, “Aristides” betrayed
the secret that Governor Clinton, in the spring of 1800, declared
Jefferson to be “an accommodating trimmer, who would change with times
and bend to circumstances for the purposes of personal promotion.”
This revelation by “Aristides,” supported by the names of persons who
heard the remark, forced Governor Clinton into an awkward denial of the
charge, and led to an exchange of letters[111] and to professions of
confidence between him and Jefferson; but time showed that neither the
Governor nor his nephew loved the Virginians more than they were loved
by Burr.
The threads of intrigue drew together, as they were apt to do before
a general election. The last week in January came. Three days before
Senator Pickering wrote his conspiracy letter to George Cabot, a letter
which implied co-operation with Burr in making him governor of New
York, Burr asked for a private interview with Jefferson, and formally
offered him the choice between friendship or enmity. The President
thought the conversation so curious that he made a note of it.
“He began,” said Jefferson,[112] “by recapitulating summarily
that he had come to New York a stranger, some years ago; that
he found the country in possession of two rich families,--the
Livingstons and Clintons; ... that since, those great families
had become hostile to him and had excited the calumnies which I
had seen published; that in this Hamilton had joined, and had
even written some of the pieces against him.... He observed,
he believed it would be for the interest of the Republican
cause for him to retire,--that a disadvantageous schism would
otherwise take place; but that were he to retire, it would be
said he shrank from the public sentence, which he would never
do; that his enemies were using my name to destroy him, and
something was necessary from me to prevent and deprive them of
that weapon,--some mark of favor from me which would declare to
the world that he retired with my confidence.”
Jefferson, with many words but with his usual courtesy, intimated that
he could not appoint the Vice-President to an Executive office; and
Burr then united his intrigues with those of Pickering and Griswold.
Thenceforth his chance of retaining power depended on the New York
election; and his success in this election depended on the Federalists.
Before George Cabot had yet written his answer to Pickering’s
questions, Pickering could no longer resist the temptation to act.
The effect of what passed at Washington was instantly felt at Albany.
Toward the middle of February, about three weeks after Jefferson had
civilly rejected the Vice-President’s advances, Burr’s friends in the
New York legislature announced that they should hold a caucus February
18, and nominate him as candidate for governor. The Federalists at
once called a preliminary caucus to decide whether they should support
Burr. Alexander Hamilton, who happened to be engaged in law business
at Albany, Feb. 16, 1804, attended the Federal caucus, and used his
influence in favor of the regular Clinton candidate against Burr’s
pretensions. The drift of his argument was given in an abstract of
reasons which he drew up for the occasion.[113] Unfortunately the
strongest of these reasons was evidently personal; the leadership of
Hamilton would not tolerate rivalry from Burr. Hamilton pointed out
that Burr’s elevation by the Federalists of New York would present
him as their leader to the Federalists of New England, and would
assist him to disorganize New England if so disposed; that there “the
ill-opinion of Jefferson, and jealousy of the ambition of Virginia, is
no inconsiderable prop of good opinions; but these causes are leading
to an opinion that a dismemberment of the Union is expedient. It would
probably suit Mr. Burr’s views to promote this result,--to be the chief
of the Northern portion; and placed at the head of the State of New
York, no man would be more likely to succeed.”
If the Union was to be severed, Hamilton was the intended chief of the
Northern portion; but he wanted no severance that should leave the
germs of the democratic disease. His philosophy was that of George
Cabot, William Pitt, and Talleyrand; he waited for the whole country to
come to its senses and restore sound principles, that democracy might
everywhere die out or be stifled. Burr’s methods were democratic, and
would perpetuate in a Northern confederacy the vices of the Union; they
would break up the conservative strength without weakening democracy.
Within a few days the danger which Hamilton foresaw came to pass.
Burr’s little band of friends in the Legislature, Feb. 18, 1804, set
him in nomination; and a large majority of Federalists, in defiance of
Hamilton’s entreaties, meant to vote for him.
As the situation became clearer, Hamilton’s personal feeling became
public. While at Albany, February 16, he dined with Judge Taylor,
and at table talked of the political prospect. One of the company,
Dr. Charles D. Cooper, an active partisan, wrote an account of the
conversation to a certain Mr. Brown near Albany: “General Hamilton and
Judge Kent have declared, in substance, that they looked upon Mr. Burr
to be a dangerous man, and one who ought not to be trusted with the
reins of government.” The letter was printed, and went the rounds of
the press. As it roused some question and dispute, Cooper wrote again:
“I could detail to you a still more despicable opinion which General
Hamilton has expressed of Mr. Burr.” This letter also was printed; the
“Albany Register” of April 24 contained the correspondence.
The news of Burr’s nomination reached Washington at the moment when
Pickering and Tracy received answers to their disunion scheme; and
it served to keep them steady to their plan. The Federalists, who
professed to consider Hamilton their leader, seldom followed his
advice; but on this occasion they set him somewhat unkindly aside. Too
much in awe of Hamilton to say directly to his face that he must be
content with the place of Burr’s lieutenant, they wrote letters to that
effect which were intended for his eye.
Of all Federalist leaders, moderate and extreme, Rufus King, who had
recently returned from London, stood highest in the confidence of his
party. He was to be the Federalist candidate for Vice-President; he had
mixed in none of the feuds which made Hamilton obnoxious to many of his
former friends; and while King’s manners were more conciliatory, his
opinions were more moderate, than those of other party leaders. To him
Pickering wrote, March 4, 1804, in a tone of entreaty:--
“I am disgusted with the men who now rule, and with their
measures. At some manifestations of their malignancy I am
shocked. The cowardly wretch at their head, while like a
Parisian revolutionary monster prating about humanity, would
feel an infernal pleasure in the utter destruction of his
opponents.”
After avowing his hopes of disunion, Pickering next touched the New
York election:[114]--
“The Federalists here in general anxiously desire the election
of Mr. Burr to the chair of New York, for they despair of a
present ascendency of the Federalist party. Mr. Burr alone, we
think, can break your democratic phalanx, and we anticipate much
good from his success. Were New York detached, as under his
administration it would be, from the Virginia influence, the
whole Union would be benefited. Jefferson would then be forced
to observe some caution and forbearance in his measures. And
if a separation should be deemed proper, the five New England
States, New York, and New Jersey would naturally be united.”
Rufus King was as cautious as Pickering was indiscreet. He acknowledged
this letter in vague terms of compliment,[115] saying that Pickering’s
views “ought to fix the attention of the real friends of liberty in
this quarter of the Union, and the more so as things seem to be fast
advancing to a crisis.” Even King’s cool head was possessed with the
thought which tormented Hamilton, Cabot, Ames, Pickering, Griswold, and
Tracy,--the crisis which was always coming, and which, in the midst
of peace, plenty, and contentment such as a tortured world had seldom
known, overhung these wise and virtuous men like the gloom of death.
A week later Roger Griswold followed Pickering’s example by writing
to another of Hamilton’s friends, Oliver Wolcott, who apparently sent
the letter to Hamilton.[116] A Congressional caucus, February 25,
nominated George Clinton as the Republican candidate for Vice-President
by sixty-five votes against forty-one,--Burr’s friends absenting
themselves. This nomination showed some division between the Northern
and Southern democrats; but Griswold rightly argued that nothing could
be done in Congress,--the formation of a Northern interest must begin
at home, and must find its centre of union in Burr. The arguments for
this course were set forth with entire candor.
“I have wished to ascertain,” wrote Griswold, “the views of
Colonel Burr in relation to the general government; but having
had no intimacy with him myself, and finding no one on the spot
calculated, or indeed authorized, to require an explanation,
I have obtained but little information. He speaks in the most
bitter terms of the Virginia faction, and of the necessity of
a union at the northward to resist it; but what the ultimate
objects are which he would propose, I do not know. It is
apparent that his election is supported in New York on the
principle of resisting Virginia and uniting the North; and
it may be presumed that the support given to him by Federal
men would tend to reconcile the feelings of those democrats
who are becoming dissatisfied with their Southern masters.
But it is worthy of great consideration whether the advantage
gained in this manner will not be more than counterbalanced by
fixing on the Northern States a man in whom the most eminent
of our friends will not repose confidence. If Colonel Burr is
elevated in New York to the office of governor by the votes of
Federalism, will he not be considered, and must he not in fact
become, the head of the Northern interest? His ambition will not
suffer him to be second, and his office will give him a claim to
the first rank.”
Having proposed this question, Griswold argued it as one in which the
interests of New York must yield to the larger interests behind, and
decided that “unpleasant as the thing may be,” Burr’s election and
consequent leadership of the Federalist party was “the only hope which
at this time presents itself of rallying in defence of the Northern
States.... What else can we do? If we remain inactive, our ruin is
certain. Our friends will make no attempts alone. By supporting Mr.
Burr we gain some support, although it is of a doubtful nature, and of
which, God knows, we have cause enough to be jealous. In short, I see
nothing else left for us.”
Had this been all, though it was a rude blow to Hamilton, it might
have passed as a difference of opinion on a point of party policy;
but Griswold’s object in writing these excuses was to explain that he
had already done more, and had even entered into personal relations
with Colonel Burr in view of a bargain. What this bargain was to be,
Griswold explained:--
“I have engaged to call on the Vice-President as I pass through
New York. The manner in which he gave me the invitation appeared
to indicate a wish to enter upon some explanation. He said he
wished very much to see me, and to converse, but his situation
in this place did not admit of it, and he begged me to call
on him at New York. This took place yesterday in the library.
Indeed, I do not see how he can avoid a full explanation with
Federal men. His prospects must depend on the union of the
Federalists with his friends, and it is certain that his views
must extend much beyond the office of governor of New York. He
has the spirit of ambition and revenge to gratify, and can do
but little with his ‘little band’ alone.”
Even George Cabot deserted Hamilton, and wrote from Boston to Rufus
King a long letter, in the tone of indolent speculation which irritated
restless fighters like Pickering and Griswold:[117]--
“An _experiment_ has been suggested by some of our friends,
to which I object that it is impracticable, and if practicable
would be ineffectual. The thing proposed is obvious and natural;
but it would now be thought too bold, and would be fatal to its
advocates as public men; yet the time _may_ soon come when
it will be demanded by the people of the North and East, and
then it will unavoidably take place.”
He explained his favorite thesis,--the last resource of failing
protestants,--that things must be worse before they were better; but
closed by wishing success to Burr. “I should rejoice to see Burr win
the race in your State, but I cannot approve of aid being given him by
any of the _leading_ Federalists.”
Ten days later, March 27, Congress adjourned; and thenceforward the
intrigue centred about Burr and Hamilton in New York. No sooner did
Griswold reach that city, a week afterward, on his way from Washington
to Connecticut, than he kept his engagement with Burr, and the
conversation strengthened him in his policy.[118] Burr was cautious,
but said that in his present canvass “he must go on democratically to
obtain the government; that if he succeeded, he should administer it in
a manner that would be satisfactory to the Federalists. In respect to
the affairs of the nation, Burr said that the Northern States must be
governed by Virginia, or govern Virginia, and that there was no middle
course; that the democratic members of Congress from the East were in
this sentiment,--some of those from New York, some of the leaders in
Jersey, and likewise in Pennsylvania.” Further than this he would not
go; and Griswold contented himself with such vague allurements.
On the other hand, Rufus King’s library was the scene of grave
dissensions. There Pickering went, April 8, to urge his scheme of
disunion, and retired on the appearance of his colleague, Senator
Adams, who for the first and last time in his life found himself
fighting the battle of Alexander Hamilton, whom he disliked as
decidedly as Pickering professed to love him. As the older senator
left the house at his colleague’s entrance, King said to Adams:[119]
“Colonel Pickering has been talking to me about a project they have
for a separation of the States and a Northern Confederacy; and he has
also been this day talking of it with General Hamilton. Have you heard
anything of it at Washington?” Adams replied that he had heard much,
but not from Colonel Pickering. “I disapprove entirely of the project,”
said King; “and so, I am happy to tell you, does General Hamilton.”
The struggle for control between Hamilton and the conspirators lasted
to the eve of the election,--secret, stifled, mysterious; the intrigue
of men afraid to avow their aims, and seeming rather driven by their
own passions than guided by the lofty and unselfish motives which ought
to inspire those whom George Cabot emphatically called the _best_!
The result was a drawn battle. Hamilton prevented leading Federalists
from open committal of the party, but he could not prevent the party
itself from voting for Burr. The election took place April 25, 1804;
and although Burr succeeded in carrying to the Federalists a few
hundred voters in the city of New York, where his strength lay, giving
him there a majority of about one hundred in a total vote of less than
three thousand, he polled but about twenty-eight thousand votes in
the State against thirty-five thousand for the Clinton candidate. The
Federalists gained nothing by supporting him; but only a small portion
of the party refused him their aid.
The obstinacy of Pickering and Griswold in pressing Burr on the party
forced Hamilton to strain his strength in order to prevent what he
considered his own humiliation. That all Hamilton’s doings were known
to Burr could hardly be doubted. When the election closed, a new era
in Burr’s life began. 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
leadership 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 thought; 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.
Pickering and Griswold saw their hopes shattered by the result of the
New York election. They gained at the utmost only an agreement to hold
a private meeting of leading Federalists at Boston in the following
autumn;[120] and as Hamilton was to be present, he probably intended to
take part only in order to stop once for all the intrigues of these two
men. Such an assemblage, under the combined authority of Cabot, King,
and Hamilton, could not have failed to restore discipline.
Nearly two months passed after the New York election, when, on the
morning of June 18, William P. Van Ness, not yet known as “Aristides,”
appeared in Hamilton’s office. He brought a note from Vice-President
Burr, which enclosed newspaper-cuttings containing Dr. Cooper’s report
of Hamilton’s “despicable” opinion of Burr’s character. The paragraph,
Burr said, had but very recently come to his knowledge. “You must
perceive, sir, the necessity of a prompt and unqualified acknowledgment
or denial of the use of any expression which would warrant the
assertions of Dr. Cooper.” General Hamilton took two days to consider
the subject; and then replied in what Burr thought an evasive manner,
but closed with two lines of defiance: “I trust on more reflection
you will see the matter in the same light with me; if not, I can only
regret the circumstance, and must abide the consequences.”[121]
These concluding words were the usual form in which men expressed
themselves when they intended to accept a challenge to a duel. At first
sight, no sufficient reason for accepting a challenge was shown by
Hamilton’s letter, which disavowed Dr. Cooper’s report so far as Burr
was warranted in claiming disavowal. Hamilton might without impropriety
have declined to give further satisfaction. In truth, not the personal
but the political quarrel drew him into the field; he knew that Burr
meant to challenge, not the man, but the future political chief, and
that an enemy so bent on rule must be met in the same spirit. Hamilton
fought to maintain his own right to leadership, so rudely disputed by
Burr, Pickering, and Griswold. He devoted some of his moments before
the duel to the task of explaining, in a formal document, that he
fought only to save his political influence.[122] “The ability to be
in 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.”
Always the crisis! Yet this crisis which brought Hamilton in July
to the duelling-ground at Weehawken was not the same as that which
Pickering and Griswold had so lately tried to create. Pickering’s
disunion scheme came to a natural end on Burr’s defeat in April.
The legislatures of the three Federalist States had met and done
nothing; all chance of immediate action was lost, and all parties,
including even Pickering and Griswold, had fallen back on their faith
in the “crisis”; but the difference of opinion between Hamilton and
the New Englanders was still well defined. Hamilton thought that
disunion, from a conservative standpoint, was a mistake; nearly all
the New Englanders, on the contrary, looked to ultimate disunion as a
conservative necessity. The last letter which Hamilton wrote, a few
hours before he left his house for the duelling-ground, was a short and
earnest warning against disunion, addressed to Theodore Sedgwick, one
of the sternest Massachusetts Federalists of Pickering’s class.[123]
“Dismemberment of our empire,” said Hamilton, “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.”
The New Englanders thought this argument unsound, as it certainly
was; for a dissolution of the American Union would have struck a blow
more nearly fatal to democracy throughout the world than any other
“crisis” that man could have compassed. Yet the argument showed that
had Hamilton survived, he would probably have separated from his New
England allies, and at last, like his friends Rufus King and Oliver
Wolcott, would have accepted the American world as it was.
The tragedy that actually happened was a fitter ending to this dark
chapter than any tamer close could have been. Early on the morning
of July 11, in the brilliant sunlight of a hot summer, the two men
were rowed to the duelling-ground across the river, under the rocky
heights of Weehawken, and were placed by their seconds face to face.
Had Hamilton acted with the energy of conviction, he would have met
Burr in his own spirit; but throughout this affair Hamilton showed want
of will. He allowed himself to be drawn into a duel, but instead of
killing Burr he invited Burr to kill him. In the paper Hamilton left
for his justification, he declared the intention to throw away his
first fire. He did so. Burr’s bullet passed through Hamilton’s body.
The next day he was dead.
As the news spread, it carried a wave of emotion over New England,
and roused everywhere sensations strangely mixed. In New York the
Clinton interest, guided by Cheetham, seized the moment to destroy
Burr’s influence forever. Cheetham affected to think the duel a murder,
procured Burr’s indictment, and drove him from the State. Charges were
invented to support this theory, and were even accepted as history. In
the South and West, on the other hand, the duel was considered as a
simple “affair of honor,” in which Burr appeared to better advantage
than his opponent. In New England a wail of despair arose. Even the
clergy, though shocked that Hamilton should have offered the evil
example of duelling, felt that they had lost their champion and sword
of defence. “In those crises of our public affairs which seemed likely
to happen,” Hamilton’s genius in council and in the field had been
their main reliance; he was to be their Washington, with more than
Washington’s genius,--their Bonaparte, with Washington’s virtues. The
whole body of Federalists, who had paid little regard to Hamilton’s
wishes in life, went into mourning for his death, and held funeral
services such as had been granted to no man of New England birth.
Orators, ministers, and newspapers exhausted themselves in execration
of Burr. During the whole summer and autumn, undisturbed by a breath
of discord or danger, except such as their own fears created, they
bewailed their loss as the most fatal blow yet given to the hopes of
society.
The death of Hamilton cleared for a time the murky atmosphere of
New York and New England politics. Pickering and Griswold, Tracy
and Plumer, and their associates retired into the background. Burr
disappeared from New York, and left a field for De Witt Clinton to
sacrifice in his turn the public good to private ambition. The bloody
feuds of Burr’s time never again recurred. The death of Hamilton and
the Vice-President’s flight, with their accessories of summer-morning
sunlight on rocky and wooded heights, tranquil river, and distant
city, and behind all, their dark background of moral gloom, double
treason, and political despair, still stand as the most dramatic moment
in the early politics of the Union.