Burr's nomination, however, was not solely due to his labors at this election, but in part also to his subsequent address. The importance of New York made it desirable to select the candidate for the Vice-Presidency from that State. A caucus of the Republican members of Congress directed Mr. Gallatin to ascertain who would be the most acceptable candidate. He wrote to Commodore Nicholson, asking him to discover the sentiments of the leading men in the State. The names of Livingston, George Clinton, and Burr had been suggested. Livingston was deaf, and Nicholson is said to have determined to recommend Clinton. Burr, however, saw him afterwards, and persuaded him to substitute his name instead of Clinton's in the letter which he had prepared to send to Philadelphia. Col. Burr was accordingly placed upon the Republican ticket.
The tie vote between Jefferson and Burr, which unexpectedly occurred in the Electoral College, has given rise to the assertion that Burr endeavored to defeat Jefferson and secure his own election. Mr. Parton devotes a chapter to the refutation of this charge, but does not succeed in making a very strong argument. The evidence of Burr's treachery, is as positive as from the nature of the case it can be. Of course, he made no open pledges; it was unnecessary, and it would have been impolitic to do so. The main fact cannot be denied, that for several weeks before and after the election went to the House of Representatives, Burr was openly supported by the Federalists in opposition to Jefferson. Burr knew it; everybody knew it. Why was this support given? It will require plain proof to satisfy any one who is familiar with the motives of political action, that a party would have so earnestly advocated the election of any man without good reason to suppose that he would make an adequate return for its support. There was but one course which Burr, in honor, could take; he should have peremptorily refused to permit his name to be used. A word from him would have ended the matter; but that word was not spoken. The evidence on the other side consists of some statements made several years after, by parties concerned, which are by no means so direct and unequivocal as might be wished,—and of a series of depositions taken in some lawsuits instituted by Col. Burr to investigate the truth of this charge. One circumstance, which seems to have escaped the notice of our biographer, casts suspicion upon all these documents. Burr applied to Samuel Smith, a United States Senator from Maryland, for his testimony. Smith gives the following account of the transaction:—"Col. Burr called on me. I told him that I had written my deposition, and would have a fair copy made of it. He said, 'Trust it to me and I will get Mr. —— to copy it.' I did so, and, on his returning it to me, I found words not mine interpolated in the copy." It is not worth while to discuss a defence which was made out by forgery.
His election to the Vice-Presidency terminated Burr's official career. He was deserted by his party, and denounced by the Republican press. Burning with resentment, he turned upon his enemies, and, supported by the Federalists, became a candidate for the Governorship of New York, in opposition to the Republican nominee. Hamilton, who alone among the Federal statesmen had openly opposed Burr during the contest for the Presidency, again separated from his party, and earnestly denounced him. Burr was defeated by an enormous majority. His disappointment and anger at being again foiled by Hamilton prompted him to the most notorious and unfortunate act of his life.
In speaking of his duel with Gen. Hamilton, we do not intend to judge Col. Burr's conduct by the rules by which a more enlightened public opinion now judges the duellist. He and his adversary acted according to the custom of their time; by that standard let them be measured. Mr. Parton thinks that the challenge was as "near an approach to a reasonable and inevitable action as an action can be which is intrinsically wrong and absurd." By this we understand him to say that the course of Col. Burr was in accordance with the etiquette which then governed men of the world in such affairs. We think differently.
During the election for Governor, Dr. Cooper, of Albany, heard Hamilton declare that he was opposed to Burr, and made a public statement to that effect. Gen. Schuyler denied the truth of this assertion, which Dr. Cooper then reiterated in a published letter, saying that Hamilton and Judge Kent had both characterized Burr as "a dangerous man, and one who ought not to be trusted with the reins of government," and that "he could detail a still more despicable opinion which Gen. Hamilton had expressed of Mr. Burr." Nearly two months after this letter was written, Burr addressed a note to Hamilton asking for an unqualified acknowledgment or denial of the use of any expression which would justify Dr. Cooper's assertion. The dispute turned upon the words "more despicable," and as to them there obviously were many difficulties. Cooper thought that the expression, "a dangerous man and one who ought not to be trusted with the reins of government," conveyed a despicable opinion; but many persons might think that such language did not go beyond the reasonable limits of political animadversion. Burr himself made no objection to that particular phrase; he did not allude to it except by way of explanation. The use of such language was common. In his celebrated attack upon John Adams, Hamilton had spoken of Mr. Jefferson as an "ineligible and dangerous candidate." The same words had been publicly applied to Burr himself, two years before. He did not see anything despicable in the opinion then expressed. A man may be unfit for office from lack of capacity, and dangerous on account of his principles. The most rigid construction of the Code of Honor has never compelled a person to fight every fool whom he thought unworthy of public station, and every demagogue whose views he considered unsound. If Dr. Cooper, then, was able to discover a despicable opinion where most people could find none, might he not have seen what he called a more despicable opinion in some remark equally innocent? Burr did not ask what were the precise terms of the remark to which Cooper alluded; he demanded that Hamilton should disavow Cooper's construction of that expression. He took offence, not at what had been said, but at the inference which another had drawn from what had been said. The justification of such an inference devolved upon Cooper, not Hamilton,—who by no rule of courtesy could be interrogated as to the justice of another's opinions. These difficulties presented themselves to the mind of Hamilton. He stated them in his reply, declared that he was ready to answer for any precise or definite opinion which he had expressed, but refused to explain the import which others had placed upon his language. Unfortunately, the last line of his note contained an intimation that he expected a challenge. Burr rudely retorted, reiterating his demand in most insolent terms. The correspondence then passed into the hands of Nathaniel Pendleton on the part of Hamilton, and William P. Van Ness, a man of peculiar malignity of character, upon the part of Burr. The responsibility of his position weighing upon Hamilton's mind, before the final step was taken, he voluntarily stated that the conversation with Dr. Cooper "related exclusively to political topics, and did not attribute to Burr any instance of dishonorable conduct," and again offered to explain any specific remark. This generous, unusual, and, according to strict etiquette, unwarranted proposition removed at once Burr's cause of complaint. Had he been disposed to an honorable accommodation, he would have received Hamilton's proposal in the spirit in which it was made. But, embarrassed by this liberal offer, he at once changed his ground, abandoned Cooper's remark, which had previously been the sole subject of discussion, and peremptorily insisted that Gen. Hamilton should deny ever having made remarks from which inferences derogatory to him could fairly have been drawn. This demand was plainly unjustifiable. No person would answer such an interrogatory. It showed that Burr's desire was, not to satisfy his honor, but to goad his adversary to the field. It establishes the general charge, which Parton virtually admits, that it was not passion excited by a recent insult which impelled him to revenge, but hatred engendered during years of rivalry and stimulated by his late defeat. Burr must long have known Hamilton's feelings towards him. Those feelings had been freely expressed; and Burr's letters discover that he was fully aware of the distrust and hostility with which he was regarded by his political associates and opponents. A man has no claim to satisfaction for an insult given years ago. The entire theory of the duello makes it impossible for one to ask redress for an injury which he has long permitted to go unredressed. The question being, not whether the practice of duelling is wrong, but whether Burr was wrong according to that practice, we have no difficulty in concluding that the challenge was given upon vague and unjustifiable grounds, and that Gen. Hamilton would have been excusable, if he had refused to meet him.
It may be said, that, if Hamilton accepted an improper challenge, he should receive the same condemnation as the one who gave it. But, even on general grounds, some qualification should be made in favor of the challenged party. His is a different position from that of the challenger. A sensitive man, though he think that he is improperly questioned, may have some delicacy about making his own judgment the rule of another's conduct. Besides, there were many considerations peculiar to this case. The menacing tone of Burr's first note made it evident that he meant to force the quarrel to a bloody issue. Hamilton, jealous of his reputation for courage, could not run the risk of appearing anxious to avoid a danger so apparent. Moreover, he was conscious, that, during his life, he had said many things which might give Burr cause for offence, and he was unwilling to avail himself of a technical, though reasonable objection, to escape the consequences of his own remarks. Neither could he apologize for what he still thought was true. These considerations were doubly powerful with Hamilton. His early manhood had been passed in camps; his early fame had been won in the profession of arms. He was a man of the world. He had never discountenanced duelling; he himself had been engaged in the affair between Laurens and Lee; and a few years before, his own son had fallen in a duel. Neither his education nor his professions nor his practice could excuse him. It was too late to take shelter behind his general disapproval of a custom which was recognized by his professional brethren and had been countenanced by himself. It is true that he would have shown a higher courage by braving an ignorant and brutal public opinion, but it would be unjust to censure him for not showing a degree of courage which no man of his day displayed. He and Burr are to be measured by their own standard, not by ours; and tried by that test, it is easy to see a difference between one who accepts and one who sends an unjustifiable challenge; it is the difference which exists between an error and a crime.
There was an interval of two weeks between the message and the meeting. This was required by Hamilton to finish some important law business. When he went to White Plains to try causes, he was in the habit of staying at a friend's house. The last time he visited there, a few days before his death, he said, upon leaving, "I shall probably never come here again." During this period he invited Col. Wm. Smith, and his wife, who was the only daughter of John Adams, to dine with him. Some rare old Madeira which had been given to him was produced on this occasion, and it was afterwards thought that it was his intention by this slight act to express his desire to bury all personal differences between Mr. Adams and himself. These, and various other little incidents, show that he felt his death to be certain; yet all his business in court and out was marked by his ordinary clearness and ability, all his intercourse with his family and friends by his usual sweetness and cheerfulness of disposition.
On the Fourth of July, Hamilton and Burr met at the annual banquet of the Society of Cincinnati. Hamilton presided. No one was afterwards able to remember that his manner gave any indication of the dreadful event which was so near at hand. He joined freely in the conversation and badinage of such occasions, and towards the close of the feast sang a song,—the only one he knew,—the ballad of the Drum. But many remembered that Burr was silent and moody. He did not look towards Hamilton until he began to sing, when he fixed his eyes upon him and gazed intently at him until the song was ended.
Hamilton was living at the Grange, his country-seat, near Manhattanville. The place is still unchanged. His office was in a small house on Cedar Street, where he likewise found lodgings when necessary. The night previous to the duel was passed there. We have been told by an aged citizen of New York, that Hamilton was seen long after midnight walking to and fro in front of the house.
During these last hours both parties wrote a few farewell lines. In no act of their lives does the difference in the characters of Hamilton and Burr show itself so distinctly as in these parting letters. Hamilton was oppressed by the difficulties and responsibilities of his situation. His duty to his creditors and his family forbade him rashly to expose a life which was so valuable to them; his duty to his country forbade him to leave so evil an example; he was not conscious of ill-will towards Col. Burr; and his nature revolted at the thought of destroying human life in a private quarrel. These thoughts, and the considerations of pride and ambition which nevertheless controlled him, are beautifully expressed in language which is full of pathos and manly dignity. He had made his will the day before. He was distressed lest his estate should prove insufficient to pay his debts, and, after committing their mother to the filial protection of his children, he besought them, as his last request, to vindicate his memory by making up any deficiency which might occur. Burr's letters to Theodosia and her husband are mainly occupied with directions as to the disposal of his property and papers. The tone of them does not differ greatly from that of his ordinary correspondence. They do not contain a word such as an affectionate father or a patriotic citizen would have written at such a time. They do not express a sentiment such as a generous and thoughtful man would naturally feel on the eve of so momentous an occurrence. There are no misgivings as to the propriety of his conduct, nor a whisper of regret at the unfortunate circumstances which, as he professed to think, compelled him to seek another's blood. He addressed to his daughter a few lines of graceful compliment, and, in striking contrast with Hamilton's injunction to his children, Burr's last request with regard to Theodosia is, that she shall acquire a "critical knowledge of Latin, English, and all branches of natural philosophy."