by Desmond Dilg
Jefferson answered:
“Mr. Hamilton, you are clearly the uncrowned king of this situation. I do not deny it. But are you prepared to accept the responsibility of electing Colonel Burr, a man whose highest ambition is to be a western Bonaparte. He would conquer Louisiana and Mexico, and then establish a military monarchy on the ruins of all our theories. Is he not one of those Elemental Beings, who has no reverence for anything but his own will; and who would, if the occasion suited, burn my Declaration and your Constitution in the same bonfire.”
“Yes, I’ve thought of all that, and am willing to risk the results. I know Burr. I’ve known him ever since we were young men in Washington's family. He is perfectly safe if properly handled, but how to handle him is the difficulty. He is a man of pleasure as well as daring, but want of money and increase of years will assuredly act as a brake upon his energies. No man can accomplish much without gold and youth.
“Of course I condemn him all I can, because in New York he is my chief foe, nevertheless his instincts as a politician are with the party I belong to rather than with yours.
“He is a patrician by nature, one of the haughtiest of men (though a spendthrift) and in his heart I know he abhors your principles as much as I do. I am sure he thinks you more fit for a pope than a president.
“I assure you Colonel Burr is a Jeffersonian from circumstances rather than convictions. I’ve often heard him speak ironically of your Declaration as 'a string of of poetic fancies.' 'A superb campaign document' and so forth.
“You, I know, believe most absolutely in your own philosophy, Mr. Jefferson; and for that I admire and respect you, while being constitutionally unable to become your convert. My brain positively refuses to think as yours does and therefore I openly oppose you.
“Burr on the other hand believes neither in your theories nor in mine; and dares to assert that the chief duty of man is to affirm his own Being irrespective of all theories whatsoever. He accepts your politics only as a means to his end. In private he has always sneered at them as only fit for unhistorical minds and simple souls. He is an astute and shrewd man who believes in 'liberty and straight hair' for the votes that are in it. He has none of the disinterested patriotism that you and I and the poets so much admire.
“Furthermore, I have already sounded Burr upon this matter through his friend John Swartwout (“You infernal liar” thought Swartwout overhead) and am satisfied I can make good terms with him.”
“But could you rely on Burr's pledge?” said Jefferson. “If he first gained fame by annexing French or Spanish territory, he would assuredly snap his fingers at you and do as he liked. With an army behind him what could you do about it? He is one of those kind of men who would order out a platoon of men before breakfast and have you shot.
“He has often urged upon me a project for the seizure of Texas from Spain. When I protested against the self-evident immorality of seizing other people's territory he answered me by saying that if our forefathers had thought that way the United States would never have existed; and that 'petty morals' are not for men of grand aims.”
“If it came to that, then I should not hesitate to have him removed by other methods,” replied General Hamilton. “Nothing is impossible to a willing mind. Caesar had his Brutus, Charles the First his Cromwell, and a good cavalier never lacks a lance.
“But I do not think it would come to that. Burr would take care never to overstep the limits of possibility and there are other means of compelling him to give hostages for good behavior. But we need not start building a bridge until we reach the river to be crossed. I know also that everything he possesses is under mortgage to Messrs. Angerstein & Co. and ‘absque argento omnia vana,' you know.”
“I perfectly comprehend the points you make, Mr. Hamilton,” answered the future president, “and appreciate them. Nevertheless Burr is a man of the Homeric type, a man whose shot you can never make sure of. He is as shifty as Ulysses and his resource is phenomenal. When you think you understand him you know him not. He will smile upon you and smite. He burns with desire to rule. His fingers can play on every keyboard, and like the wise men of old he neither forgives nor forgets.”
“Nevertheless, I am ready to chance my ability to control him,” interjected the Major General.
When Jefferson perceived that Hamilton was inexorable and that it was perfectly feasible for Burr to supplant him, his heart weakened and he became more tractable. His tone of haughty refusal changed and he said:
“Mr. Hamilton, I am well aware of the tremendous hidden meaning and import and trend of this interview. I see the immense significance of a majority-ruled Commonwealth as I never saw it before. I have had a glimpse of the Real and it has astonished me. I perceive that circumstances are more powerful than institutions; and that if ever I am to obtain executive power I must bend to those circumstances.
“The conditions you offer, Mr. Hamilton, I cannot however, conscientiously decide off hand. It requires time for consideration. I am really in a predicament, a mortal predicament.
“I do sincerely desire to be president, for the good that I know I can do, and also because it is my highest ambition. Nevertheless, as Chief Executive, I would be free—free in the fullest sense—without hampering conditions—not tied down like a prisoner on parole; and yet, and yet, I am growing old.”
Hamilton replied and there was a hard cold unsympathetic ring in his voice, saying:
“The event is absolutely in your own power. You have only to pledge yourself to do justice to public creditors, maintain and increase the navy, not to disturb those holding high office, and unite with the Federals in a campaign against Burr; and straightway the reins of government are placed in your hands.”
“I would have time to consider,” answered Jefferson, who was not the sort of man to decide things rapidly.
“You can have 48 hours, Mr. Jefferson,” was the answer. In that time surely you can think it over and decide. Meanwhile, the balloting can go on indecisively. Fifteen or twenty ballots have already been taken. I will attend to that, and if I do not hear from you by the end of 48 hours I shall consider my proposition rejected; and immediately proceed with the election of Colonel Burr. Then farewell to all your hopes.
“You can send your reply ‘yes’ or ‘no’ in the Cabinet Cipher, No. 3. L7. It is the same cipher employed by you in official correspondence when ambassador in Paris. We are both well acquainted with it and it is unquestionably safe.”
(“Is it?” thought John Swartwout as he grinned to to himself. “Every cipher you know is known to Burr.”)
“Within 48 hours you shall hear my decision,” replied Jefferson as he wrapped a big red muffler around his throat and chin.
“It will give me much pleasure to hear from you in the affirmative, Mr. Jefferson. I must frankly confess that I would rather see you in the presidential chair than Burr.
“Burr is one of those aggressive and absolutely self- centered men who make things somewhat unpleasant now and again. He cherishes vast aims, has a subtle imagination, possesses immense energy, and is as true a Pagan as ever wore the toga of a Senator and strode the Roman Forum.”
As Hamilton ceased speaking the bell in the clock tower of the Church of the Holy Redeemer rang out again; once, twice, three times, four times, five.
It was 5 o'clock. The conference had lasted an hour. Both men had walked back and forward during the talk in order to keep themselves warm. Overhead Swartwout was nearly frozen to the planks. He dare not move for fear of discovery. Every now and then his fingers buried deep in the pocket of his greatcoat nervously grasped the butts of a pair of heavy pistols. Being essentially a man of action he was busily revolving in his mind a plan for getting possession of “those infernal papers.”
Hamilton and Jefferson looked out. The silent snow had been steadily falling. The wind had gone down somewhat and the sky became grey and black. It was night.
Both men stepped into the snow. Their coaches waited “Good night, Jeffers
on”
“Good night, Hamilton.”
Then in opposite directions (as they had arrived) the two famous history makers rolled off.
As soon as the carriages had disappeared, John Swartwout climbed slowly down from his perch shivering and stiff with the cold but hot with indignation.
To the door of the building he walked and gave a low peculiar whistle. In a few minutes a slave-youth trotted up out of the darkness, delivered to Swartwout a saddle-horse then trotted away again as if previously instructed how to act.
Swartwout put his arm through the reins of the horse, rammed his hands deep into his coat pockets and commenced to walk rapidly after Hamilton's carriage in order to warm himself. As soon as the blood began to circulate he jumped into the saddle and started off at a swinging canter—the stinging north wind hissing against his face and ears.
Fastened to his saddle was a heavy military rifle. Presently as he rode on, following the wheel marks in the snow, he heard two pistol shots in rapid succession. Cautiously slowing his pace he came round a bend in the road noiselessly.
General Hamilton was climbing back into his coach and the dead body of a man lay by the roadside. The carriage drove off again.
Swartwout rode on. He looked down on the body. It was that of a young man with fair white face. There were red spots on the snow.
“It is murder perhaps,” thought Swartwout as without alighting he rode on.
He was stalking General Hamilton. He unfastened the heavy rifle and laid it carefully across his knees.
XV
Robber Rob Robber
To rob and ride
Is not a shame
The noblest born
Have done the same.
Old Saxon Ballad.
Jefferson gave explicit instructions to his black slave, to drive as rapidly as possible. Then he drew some bear-skin rugs carefully around his legs, turned up the collar of his coat, buttoned it tightly, and shivering with cold and vexation, leaned back to think. Thus thought he:
“A curse on my bad fortune. This Hamilton is my evil genius. I always had an instinctive dread of that man. Just as I am on the point of triumph, in he steps to mock at me, nay more, to make me his helpless captive. Clearly he has the power to elect me. I hate the man. He is so cold-blooded and hard- skulled, but behind him there is an immense positive power. How neatly he engineered this 'equality' plot to upset my purpose, to put me on the rack as it were.
“He could not defeat me with Adams and Pinkney as his nominees. Adams is deficient in tact and Pinkney is not popular.
“Now he defeats me by intrigue—legitimate intrigue of course. And I am as helpless as a new born babe to resent it or even to expose it. I have given my word of honor to keep this interview secret. I cannot openly denounce his cool demands. Besides the fact that I met him at all would condemn me.
“Even if I did attempt to expose the scheme, I would only be laughed at: nobody would believe me. Nobody would believe I was even here tonight. And to be laughed at is death to a politician. It is the ridicule that kills. Then again how can I prove it. But it IS all the same. Many things exist that cannot be proved. But even if it could be proved, such proof would not take away Hamilton’s power to decide the election.
“No doubt about it, he has got me on the hip.
“Me! Thomas Jefferson, author of the Declaration of Independence: that glorious avatar of Human Liberty; that immortal document: that Written Word which made this government a possibility, (and gave Washington, Hamilton, Adams & Co., aye all of them, the chance of their lifetime:) that Majestic Decree whose Edenic Ideal is already toppling down the moth-eaten thrones of decadent Europe; and whirling forth the all conquering legions of this Corsican Napoleon.
“And now, alas, I am voted ‘equal’ to lawyer Burr and ‘Warwicked’ by lawyer Hamilton. Next they’ll vote me ‘equal’ to my own darkeys.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!
“It's positively sardonic. Mine own independence is gone already. I must be Hamilton's tame mouse: or the country is at the mercy of that little devil, Burr.
“Truly, Mr. Thomas Jefferson of Monticello, you are between the 'devils' and 'the deep sea'—a very deep sea and very deep devils.
“Verily, politics is a heart-breaking business. This makes me doubt the practicability of the Unlimited Democracy. Is it really possible when men are so false and fearful of personal ruin. That is the crux. Are 'the majority' capable of acting a disinterested, a noble part? Do they really love their country? Do they? I really begin to doubt it. But we may educate them. Just so; but in that also there is a possible flaw. Cannot delusions be taught in public schools as well as arithmetic? Who is to write the school books and mark time?
“However, I am face to face with a crisis in my fortunes. I cannot afford to let the presidency slip through my fingers. I am an old man now, I am grey, and my strength is waning day by day. Now is my chance or never. ‘Aut Caesar, Aut nullus.’
“Upon my soul, upon my honor, I abhor and detest and abjure this proposition, but, but, but, let me see, let me see, shall I permit this government, the child and creature of mine own brain, to fall into the hands of these Rival Caesars—this soulless gang of New York Catilines; or, or, or, shall I take upon myself the possible odium of the compact, and by doing so save and deliver unborn millions, from a fearful, a positively fearful fate.
“Truly this Hamilton is another subtle Cardinal Richelieu. He has his hands in everything, his secret agents are everywhere.
“Must I bend before him—must I crouch to, to, to, Washington’s word-furnisher—must I accept his terms? No, there is no escape. That is absolute. If I refuse, Burr is straightway president. If so, he will assuredly upset everything. He would use the entire machinery of government to destroy me and make his his own re-election sure.
“No. No. Burr shall not be president. Not if I can help it. Let him be vice-president. There he is safe. He can’t do much harm there. It is a high ornamental office but without real power.
“Only should I die—! Ah! There, a new train of thought arises. Who would be in the line of succession? If some one slew me (and there are many quite capable of it) what then? Why Burr is straightway president. He is heir apparent. It almost makes me break out in a cold sweat to think of it. It reminds me of Livy and Tacitus. Verily I am like unto a somnambulist suddenly awakening on the verge of a yawning abysm.
“Then I must play the courtier to Mr Warwick Hamilton. It is a choice of alternatives. I must capitulate. It is enough to unbalance a man’s brain. I have a mind to go home to Monticello and burn all my books. Republican institutions! Bah!
“Was ever a man before in such a pitiless predicament! I have read and read till my mind has grown weary of reading. I thought I had acquired the wisdom of the wisest. I had honestly purposed to eradicate from the land of my birth the last fibre of ancient or future aristocracy; and here I am, on the point of being appointed a mighty Ruler by the Great Common People: no! but by a subtle Manhattan Caucus Boss.
“He! He! He! How would it look 'Thomas Jefferson, President of the United States, by the grace of God and Major General Hamilton’? Am I opposed to a stronger practical intellect than my own? It must be so for I am beaten. A conqueror's hoof is on my neck. I have not proved myself ‘equal’ even to Hamilton, let alone that little devil Burr. That is a self evident truth.
“It is positively heart-breaking, astounding; but it's a fact nevertheless.
“I thought myself an Occidental Moses—a Republican Luther—a Virginian Rienzi—a Mohammed of Democracy—and, here I am, riding through the snow on a bleak wild wintry night—trapped like a lamb—vanquished—laughed at—dictated to! 'Warwicked.'”
Then the 3rd President of the United States leaned forward on his seat, his head between his hands and wept with vexation and impotence, aye, wept passionately. His long gaunt frame shook with emotion and bitter, bitter tears ran down through his lean fingers. His tears were the tears of an honest ambition, of disi
llusionment and thwarted hopes.”
Then he went on thinking.
“I thought myself a valiant hero, a mighty overcomer, but after this I shall never more believe there are any perfect heroes outside of fairyland or the two covers of a story book.”
Thus soliloquized the shivering Mr. Jefferson. For two solid hours his mind wandered from subject to subject, but always came back to the one supreme question, “Shall I accept Hamilton's terms?” He turned the matter over and over, again and again.
He studied it from every point of view, without perceiving the slightest loophole of escape. He hesitated.
* * * * *
Meanwhile, “Mr. Warwick Hamilton” or “Washington's word-spinner,” as Thomas Jefferson described him, was being driven as rapidly as the snow and bad roads would permit, to his suburban destination.
He sat in the coach smiling complacently and thinking of Jefferson's amusing nervousness and evident bewilderment.
“Jefferson,” he thought, “is as likely as any man I know to accept terms, and at present he will be much safer than Burr. He is full of strange notions and philanthropic ambitions, but he has never been a soldier, and thus there is no hardness in him. He is not the stamp of man that would have grit to use an army in order to maintain himself in power. The very thought of such a thing would fill him with hysteria.
“If I am not mistaken, Jefferson will calculate and trim, and always consider what will promote his own reputation and advantage, and the probable result of such a temper is the preservation of established systems. Thus, should he be elected, my 'crazy hulk of a constitution' may after all get a fair trial.