It is truly surprising how any individual could have become so eminent as a soldier, as a statesman, and as a professional man, who devoted so much time to the other sex as was devoted by Colonel Burr. For more than half a century of his life they seemed to absorb his whole thoughts. His intrigues were without number. His conduct most licentious. The sacred bonds of friendship were unhesitatingly violated when they operated as barriers to the indulgence of his passions. For a long period of time he seemed to be gathering, and carefully preserving, every line written to him by any female, whether with or without reputation; and, when obtained, they were cast into one common receptacle,—the profligate and corrupt, by the side of the thoughtless and betrayed victim. All were held as trophies of victory,—all esteemed alike valuable. How shocking to the man of sensibility! How mortifying and heart-sickening to the intellectual, the artless, the fallen fair!
Among these manuscripts were many the production of highly cultivated minds. They were calculated to excite the sympathy of the brother—the parent—the husband. They were, indeed, testimonials of the weakness of the weaker sex, even where genius and learning would seem to be towering above the arts of the seducer. Why they were thus carefully preserved, is left to conjecture. Can it be true that Moore is correct, when, in his life of Lord Byron, he says, "The allusions which he (Byron) makes to instances of successful passion in his career, were not without their influence on the fancies of that sex, whose weakness it is to be most easily won by those who come recommended by the greatest number of triumphs over others? Some of these productions had been penned more than sixty years. They were all committed to the flames, however, immediately after the decease of Colonel Burr. Of them, it is believed, "not a wreck remains."
The faithful biographer could not pass over in silence this strong and revolting trait in the character of Colonel Burr. It will not again be referred to. From details, the moralist and the good man must shrink with disgust and abhorrence. In this particular, Burr appears to have been unfeeling and heartless. And yet, by a fascinating power almost peculiar to himself, he so managed as to retain the affection, in some instances, the devotion, of his deluded victims. In every other respect he was kind and charitable. No man would go farther to alleviate the sufferings of another. No man was more benevolent. No man would make greater sacrifices to promote the interest or the happiness of a friend. How strange, how inconsistent, how conflicting are these allusions! They are nevertheless strictly true.
Many of the letters to and from Colonel Burr contain hints and opinions as to public men and measures. Thus far, they are links in the chain of history, in relation to the times when they were written. They serve, also, to illustrate the character and the principles of the writers themselves. With these views they are occasionally selected. Theodore Sedgwick is a name recorded in the annals of our country with distinction. He writes to Burr:—
Sheffield, 7th August, 1776.
MY DEAR BURR,
If you remember, some months since, you and I mutually engaged to correspond by letter. I told you then that you were not to expect any thing either entertaining, or in any degree worth the trouble of perusing. What can a reasonable being expect from an inhabitant of such an obscure, remote, and dead place as Sheffield, to amuse, instruct, or even to merit the attention of a young, gay, enterprising, martial genius? I know you will expect nothing, and I dare pledge my honour, therefore, that you will not, either now or in future, in this respect, be disappointed.
You recollect, perhaps, that when I had the pleasure to see you here, I informed you of a design to visit New-York and the southward. Soon after my business called me to Boston, and, on my return, I was obliged to go with the militia to Peekskill; from there I should have visited the city and my friends, had not some foolish accidents prevented. I now think, as soon as I can leave home, of making a tour; but this, like other futurities, is wholly uncertain.
The insignificant figure I make, in my own opinion, in this day of political and martial exertions, is an humbling consideration. To be stoically indifferent to the great events that are now unfolding, is altogether inconsistent, not only with my inclination, but even with my natural constitution; and to pursue a line of conduct which indicates such a disposition (I mean my continuance at home), is a mystery for which I will endeavour to account. Remember, I do not intend to libel the colony to which I belong.
Amid the confusion which was at once the cause and consequence of a dissolution of government, men's minds as well as actions became regardless of all legal restraint. All power reverted into the hands of the people, who were determined that every one should be convinced that the people were the fountain of all honour. The first thing they did was to withdraw all confidence from every one who had ever any connexion with government. Lawyers were, almost universally, represented as the pests of society. All persons who would pay court to these extravagant and unreasonable prejudices became their idols. Abilities were represented as dangerous, and learning as a crime, or rather, the certain forerunner of all political extravagances. They really demonstrated that they were possessed of creating power; for, by the word of their power, they created great men out of nothing; but I cannot say that all was very well.