The first ballot found Jefferson with eight States—Burr with six—nine necessary to a choice. Another ballot immediately—the same result. A third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh—no change. As each ballot was taken, a teller from Maryland entered the little committee room where Nicholson lay fighting the fever, his head supported by the arm of his wife. He was awakened from his fitful sleep, a pencil was put in his trembling fingers, and with his wife’s aid in guiding the pencil the name of Jefferson was written. The pencil fell from his hand—he slept again.[1921] At the end of the eighth ballot a motion to vote again in an hour prevailed. There was little electioneering—men’s minds were made up. Only a buzz of conversation, some laughter.
The ninth ballot, the tenth, eleventh, twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth ballots—and no change. Darkness had long since fallen on snow-covered Washington. Bed-clothing, blankets, pillows, had been brought in. The Federalists had determined to hold on without adjournment. At nine o’clock the sixteenth ballot brought no change. At ten o’clock the seventeenth, at eleven the eighteenth—and no change. The motion was made to adjourn until Thursday, only to be voted down. At midnight the nineteenth ballot was taken, with the lines unbroken. By this time the members were slipping off to cloak and committee rooms between ballots to sleep, and some slept in their chairs. As a ballot was called, it was ‘ludicrous to see them running from committee rooms with night caps on.’[1922] The crowd in the corridors dwindled, a few stubbornly held on. Every hour a messenger waded laboriously through the heavy snow to the home of the editor of ‘The Intelligencer’ with the results. No sleep in that house that night. When the knock at the door was heard, the editor’s wife, her heart beating audibly, as she thought, could scarcely open to receive the paper.[1923]
At one o’clock another ballot—then at two. Nature was beginning to claim its toll when it was agreed not to vote again until four o’clock. After that the ballots were taken hourly throughout the night. When the twenty-seventh ballot was taken at eight o’clock and the motion was made to vote no more until noon, there were no protests. The vote at noon found the opposing lines unbroken. The House adjourned until eleven o’clock on Friday—the next day.
Friday: larger crowds about the Capitol. Nicholson still on his bed. When the twenty-ninth ballot showed no change, an adjournment was taken until noon on Saturday.
Meanwhile the participants in the struggle were sending out meager reports on the results. While the first ballots were being taken on Wednesday, Jefferson had written Tench Coxe: ‘For some time since, a single individual has said he would by his vote make up the ninth State. On Saturday last he changed, and it stands at present eight one way, six the other, and two divided. Which of the two will be elected, and whether either, I deem perfectly problematical; and my mind has long since been equally made up for either of the three events.’[1924] Otis, writing his wife, was more interested in the scene at the sick bed than in conjectures.[1925] Gallatin wrote Mrs. Gallatin of the results without comment, other than that he had slept from eight o’clock until noon on Thursday morning.[1926] Saturday found the lines still holding, but with the conspirators subjected to a heavy and disturbing fire from outside. An imposing petition from Federalists in Maryland had been sent John Chew Thomas declaring that two thirds of his constituents favored Jefferson. Gallatin did ‘not know what effect they would have.’[1927] and the thing that worried the Federalists was that they knew no better. Some of these were finding the backfire distressing. Others were openly disgusted with Burr. ‘Had Burr done anything for himself, he would long ere this have been President,’ wrote Cooper of New York.[1928] It was clearly time to push the contest. Thus, on Saturday three ballots were taken without results, and the House adjourned until noon Monday.
Meanwhile, Jefferson, presiding over the Senate, surrounded by hatred and excitement, presented an unruffled front, an untouched temper. From time to time he could hear the angry discussions of his enemies, but he made no sign. His impartiality was beyond question. ‘A spectator,’ wrote a contemporary, ‘who watched his countenance would never have surmised that he had any personal interest in the impending event.’[1929] From the Capitol he walked like one unconcerned back to Conrad’s, enjoying the snow. Some of the politicians sought to wring concessions from him to gain support, but he was adamant. General Sam Smith, without his authority or knowledge, entered into a negotiation, which had no effect beyond furnishing the groundwork for the charge of his enemies in history that he had made arrangements. As far as we know he was openly approached by but one—and he was acting on the suggestion of Alexander Hamilton.
One day, as Jefferson was descending the steps of the Capitol, he met Gouverneur Morris and they paused to exchange compliments. Differing as widely as the poles, they had enjoyed their social contacts in Paris. The conversation turned naturally to the contest, and Morris observed, significantly, that the opposition to Jefferson’s election on the part of some was the fear that he would turn all Federalists out of office, put down the navy, and wipe out the debt. All that was necessary to his election was the assurance that none of these steps would be taken. ‘I must leave the world to judge the course I mean to pursue by that which I have pursued hitherto,’ Jefferson replied. ‘I believe it my duty to be passive and silent during the present contest. I shall certainly make no terms, and shall never go into the office of President by capitulation, nor with my hands tied by any conditions which will hinder me from pursuing the measures which I shall deem for the public good.’ The two parted in the best of feeling.
The crisis was now approaching. Public sentiment was asserting itself unmistakably, and statesmen could hear afar off the cracking of the whips. The Jeffersonians would clearly not budge. Even Nicholson was recovering instead of sinking under the exposure and excitement. The Federalists in their caucuses were breaking up after stormy meetings. It was agreed that nothing was left but desperate measures, and, while but few urged their adoption, few openly disapproved. Burr was an ever-increasing torment. Only his coöperation was needed, said Bayard afterward, to have won. ‘By deceiving one man (a great blockhead) and tempting two (not incorruptible), he might have secured a majority of the States.’[1930] But Burr was in Albany, silent as the sphinx and inactive as a mummy.
Over Sunday the leaders caucused and cursed. When the House met on Monday, Gallatin understood that Bayard was going to vote for Jefferson and end the fight. But on the one ballot taken on Monday, he remained with Burr. ‘But it is supposed,’ wrote Gallatin to his father-in-law, ‘that the cause of delay is to make an attempt on his party and some others to prevail on the whole Federal party to come over.’[1931]
The conferences continued on Monday and by night a decision had been reached. Nothing could be gained by fighting for a man who would not fight. The public was in an ugly mood. Hamilton’s friends, like Bayard, were feeling a little ashamed of themselves. On Tuesday a crowd was packed in the corridors of the Capitol and in front of the building. Weary men in petulant mood pushed their way through these farmers, mechanics, and politicians to the House. A vote was immediately taken. Morris, Federalist from Vermont, withdrew, permitting Matthew Lyon to cast the vote of the State for Jefferson. The Maryland Federalists cast blank ballots—permitting the Democrats to put their State in the Jefferson column. Bayard, after much meandering, finally satisfied Hamilton by casting a blank, which, being the only vote to which his State was entitled, left Delaware out entirely. And Theodore Sedgwick, in a rage, was forced formally to announce the election of Thomas Jefferson. The throng in the corridors and in front of the Capitol gave way to noisy rejoicing, and the conspirators hurried to their lodgings to escape the scowls of the populace.