by Desmond Dilg
“Why should the chief of an invincible army (or other force), when things become grave, hesitate to do his duty?
“Should it ever be necessary to preserve the sacred rights of property by force of arms, why should I (for example) hesitate, if at the head of an army?
“As far as I can see there is nothing essentially dis- creditable in being the 'Man on Horseback' if one has the will and power.
“I am scarcely vain enough to hope that such shall ever be my destiny, nevertheless, should events come my way and circumstances justify the action, it shall not be said of Aaron Burr ‘He was a weak man, unequal to his opportunity.’”
In short, all Burr's conduct and career indicates that he has in view nothing less than the establishment of Supreme Power in his own person. He would reform the government a la Bonaparte.
And yet it may be well to throw out a lure to him. It might be judicious policy perhaps to tempt him to start for the plate, and thus lay the foundation for acute dissensions between the two Republican chiefs (Jefferson and himself.) * * *. Then if the worst should happen, arrangements could perhaps be made to shelve him for a period, by permitting him to win the consolation prize—the expensive Vice-Presidency. * * * *
You speak very enthusiastically about what you call 'the dawning of a new era in human government' but I think you are mistaken. The 'progress' you speak of is only an illusion, created by our wondrous arrival on a vast new continent of illimitable possibilities, and the consequent relief of human pressure within the old. The nature of things is in no way changed. When the world again fills up with its hungry multitudes the same old drama shall be acted over and over again, line by line, scene by scene, tragedy by tragedy, to the bitter end. The discovery and colonization of America is but an intermezzo. * * *
(Signed) ALEXANDER HAMILTON
When this packet of papers was given to the Chief of the Seven, he opened them on the altar of the Iron Ing, first commanding Burr and Hamilton to retire to an adjoining room, in the nominal custody of the Sergeant-at-Arms, Judge Pendleton. It was intimated that they would be called in again to hear the judgment.
In the ante room they bowed haughtily to one another, but remained silent, Judge Pendleton sitting between them with the weapon of his office laying across his knees. As Hamilton sat there and looked across at Burr he thought to himself:
“Again I am out-generaled. The crisis has come before I expected it. I had thought to have warred him down without being directly implicated. Accursed be my evil luck. How did Van Ness get those infernal papers. They prove my animus beyond doubt, I have written too much, far too much.
“But what is worse for me, those documents prove that Burr was truly elected president, and that Bayard and I caused Jefferson to be selected. That will surely damn me with the Seven. According to the Laws of the Order, I am now a convicted traitor and an enemy of the Iron Cross, punishable with death.
“What had I better do? What shall I plead? Shall I be humble and crave for mercy, or shall I be defiant and brazen it out?
“They dare not kill me! Me! Alexander Hamilton! Major-General! Creator of the Constitution! Washington's favorite Secretary! Son-in-law of General Schuyler! President-General of the Cincinnati! No! They dare not do it!
“Still again they might, for this is a very serious thing, a very serious thing. There is more in it than appears on the surface. The election of Jefferson has made me bitter enemies where I least expected it.
“And Burr! O, the cunning one! I have no evidence against him though he has poisoned my life and balked my whole career. How I hate him!’’
* * * * *
In the center of the lodge-hall a fire burned like unto the fire of a blacksmith.
By its side, blowing a bellows, there stood a man half naked, with great hairy arms; and he was lame of one foot, and grimed with soot, and on his left hand were six fingers.
At the right of him there was an iron anvil, and in his hand he held an iron hammer.
Outside the glow of the fire all was gloom. In the darkness the brethren were chanting an anthem from the Book of the Fiery Scroll, and the refrain of the anthem was:
Forging! Forging! Forging!
And what are you forging there?
And from time to time the Smith withdrew from the fire a blade of glowing metal and smote it joyfully on the anvil with his hammer.
And the hammer rang:
Kling—klang—kling
Kling—klang—kling
With rythmic swing the hammer rose and fell, and the sparks hissed and flew, and the unseen brothers sang in the darkness:
Forging. Forging. Forging.
And what are you forging there?
Then from out the circle of gloom a young man glided into the circle of light. He was beautiful and strong to behold. Power and pride shone from his eyes, and his locks and beard were red like gold. He trod with the step and mien of a conqueror, and looked even like unto a god, and he was robed in stars. And he held out his hand towards the Smith, saying:
“Give it me.”
And the smith again withdrew the hissing blade from the fire and beat it on the iron anvil with the iron hammer. And he sang as he forged:
“Not yet! Not yet! Not yet!” Kling klang. Kling klang. Kling klang, kling.
“NOT YET.”
Now, around the waist of the young man there was a broad girdle with a buckle of beryl; and fastened to the girdle there was a sword-ring (but no sword) and upon the girdle the word “Biamokul,” was written. And again he stepped forward to the smith, saying:
“Give it me.”
And the smith went on forging. And still from the outer darkness the Unseen Brothers sang their anthem-chorus:
Forging! Forging! Forging!
And what are you forging there?
And the fire glowed; and the bellows creaked; and the sparks leaped; and the hammer rose and fell; and the smith raised his voice and sang as he forged—his hammer beating tune.
And the tones of his great voice were very sonorous, like unto the beauty and booming of wrath and thunder.
My anvil clangs its challenge song;
I shape the scepter of the Strong.
Klang, kling, klang.
Within my star-born flare and flame.
I weld the blade of Power and Fame.
Klang, kling, klang.
From steel without a blain or flaw
I hammer out the Higher Law.
Klang, kling, klang.
In white-hot heat I burn the dross,
I forge. I forge, the Iron Cross.
Klang, kling, klang.
Then for the third time the young man with the locks of gold stepped forward saying: “GIVE IT ME.” And the smith went on forging.
* * * * *
In about half an hour the Signal came to the Sergeant-at-Arms. Whereupon he conducted his two “Captives” into the council chamber, which was now illuminated by three great lights in the center of the hall, but the Supreme Seven were invisible, hidden behind the dark curtain that hung down in folds before the dais.
With the Sergeant-at-Arms between them, Hamilton and Burr walked silent to the Altar, whereon lay the somewhat significant emblems of mortality, and the Cross of Iron.
Then a solemn voice came from beyond the curtain saying:
“Brother Alexander Hamilton. A grievous allegation stands against thee. Thou art charged with doing injury and wrong to a brother, and doing it with intent and aforethought.
“Thou art also charged with a deliberate breach of your sacred obligation, by aiding and abetting an avowed enemy of the Iron Cross (and its unchangeable principles), into a position of power and authority at the expense of a trustworthy and reliable brother-of-the-blood, in direct contravention of Clause 9A in the Fiery Scroll.
“If convicted upon one or both of those counts the penalty is Extinction, the when, where and how, to be decided after. All this thou already knowest. If, therefore, thou hast anything to say either in e
xtenuation or rebuttal, now is the time to say it, and we are here to listen. What dost thou plead? Art thou guilty or not guilty?”
“GUILTY.”
Hamilton replied with deliberation, thinking to himself, “If I am to die I will die game. The proofs against me are overwhelming. There is no defense. I wrote the letters. I am hopelessly entangled.”
“Have you (or any of your friends) any counter charge to make against Brother Aaron Burr. Every opportunity will be given to clear yourself from this indictment,” said the Judge.
“None whatever,” answered Hamilton. “He is my foe, but, I cannot prove it.”
“Brother Burr,” said the voice from behind the veil, “are you an enemy of Brother Alexander Hamilton?”
“I AM,” answered the Vice-President.
“Brother Hamilton, are you an enemy of Brother Aaron Burr's?” said the voice.
“I AM,” answered the Major-General.
“The Iron Cross would reconcile ye brethren, if that be possible,” spake another voice kindly.
“Vengeance is mine,” said the Major-General.
“And I will repay,” said the Vice-President.
Here a pause occurred in the proceedings while the Seven consulted together behind the veil. Meanwhile the brethren of the lodge talked to each other in ominous whispers concerning the thrilling climax of the drama, a drama extending over more than a quarter of a century (and with which most of them were more or less familiar.)
After a while the voice again spake, saying:
“Brother Alexander Hamilton. Hear thy doom.”
“I hearken,” replied Hamilton quietly. “I am submissive but unafraid.”
Then the voice spoke slowly and solemnly, while an unseen hammer clanged dolefully on an unseen anvil.
“Alexander Hamilton. Extinction is thy portion. (Klang.) Die thou or justice must. (Klang.) We proclaim against thee the Heavy Hand. (Klang.) We pronounce thy doom. (Klang.) Thus it is willed. (Klang.) At High Noon within twenty days and twenty-one hours the Iron Cross demands thy soul. (Klang.) Depart on the Sign of Zoam. (Klang.)”
Then another voice came from behind the curtain, saying, with most evident emotion:
“To love and be wise is scarcely granted even to the highest.”
A brother then ceremoniously removed the Three Amens and reversed the Iron Sign. Gradually the lights began to wane and semi darkness prevailed. The brethren arose to disperse. Then Hamilton drew himself together and spake in a dazed voice, saying, as he lifted the iron hammer on the altar by his side and smote one blow:
“I APPEAL.”
“To what dost thou appeal?” answered the hidden voice impatiently.
“To trial by combat,” said Hamilton in a tone of defiance and challenge.
Then, again, a conference was held behind the veil, while the Three Amens and the Iron Cross were returned to their original position, and the brethren resumed their seats in silence and expectancy. After an interval the voice spake once more, saying:
“Brother Aaron Burr, thou hast heard the appeal made by Brother Alexander Hamilton.”
“I have heard.”
“Art thou willing to accept the wager of battle?”
“I am,” replied the Vice-President, and he drew himself up haughtily. “Chief does not decline encounter with Chief.”
“The appeal is granted, but one man must die, and 'may God defend the right,' spake the voice, and the hammer clanged again on the hidden anvil, three-times three.
“His blood be upon his own head,” said the Major- General.”
“To fall by the hand of a Vice-President is not an ignoble death,” retorted Burr.
Again the lights slowly darkened except where the Vice-President stood. Around him played an intense and concentrated ray of luminance from above. Then a man with a scarlet mask hiding his face and his right arm bare to the shoulder came out from behind the veil. In his hand he bore a belt, and fastened to the belt with an iron ring was a heavy sword-blade with a square hilt—about one ar long.
Then a voice came from behind the veil, saying:
“VIDI.”
Whereupon the Man of the Naked Arm stooped down and buckled the belt and sword around the waist of Aaron Burr, while the hammer clanged three, and the voice came from behind the veil, saying:
“Gladio Cincturavimus.”
Then the brethren arose to disperse, but before doing so they formed the Iron Ring, singing (hand clasped in hand) these words:
The law of laws shall reign—
Thus it is willed
And brother by brother slain
Till all be fulfilled.
XVII
Mortuum Bellum
“Has Vice President Burr sank so low as to be publicly insulted by General Hamilton?”
—Hamilton’s editor Cheetham in “The American Citizen” June, 1804
Midnight. The shores of Manhattan Island. Two well dressed men walked rapidly towards one another through the shimmering summer moonlight. From the south a soft wind blew.
Between them as they approached lay the moss-covered oaken ribs of an old privateer barque, that in other days had been the property of Sir Walter Raleigh, the celebrated Elizabethian buccaneer, who founded the first English Colony in America. The bones of this tough old ship protruded from the sand and the dents of Spanish cannon balls were still plainly visible thereon.
The tide was low and everything still, except the dull creak of anchored ships in the harbor, straining at their cables.
The two men were Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr, the Vice President and the Major General. Once more those two warring spirits met, the two subtlest lawyers, the two craftiest politicians, the two bravest soldiers, and the two most accomplished gentlemen of the age.
Their names were as familiar in the furthest outlying log-hut of the backwoodsman and the pioneer, as in the mansions of the rich; or in the historic villages and towns along the Atlantic seaboards.
It was the night of the 10th of July, 1804.
When within ten feet of one another each man made a sign with his left hand—the hailing sign of the Iron Cross. Then placing their left hands on their respective breasts they bowed profoundly.
“E La Moot,” said Hamilton as he saluted. “Ave Morituri,”
“E La Moot,” replied Burr, “Hail, All Hail.”
The cold moon shone through the rigging of the great ships lying at anchor, flooding the beach and piers with a soft mellow light that cast long, wavy, ghostly shadows.
The dark, sullen waters of the bay glanced and sparkled as if set with a million dancing stars; and away in the eastward darkness might be heard (every now and then), the sullen thunder and growl of ocean billows crashing against the outer cliffs, while near at hand the low swish and swirl of the retreating tide sounded musically and mournfully to listening ears, like the menacing hiss of some crouching water dragon waiting for its prey.
It was a strange weird sight; those two daring, proud and subtle personalities, meeting by the bones of the old pirate ship, on the sands over which the tides have ebbed and flowed for ages “twice every twenty-four hours.” How they smiled at one another while the quenchless, accumulated hatred, the brewing of over twenty-five years, was surging within their Veins.
“For the last time we meet face to face (and on the Sign), before I shoot you,” said Hamilton, in slow, modulated tones, intended to be intimidating.
“For the last time we meet on the Sign,” answered Burr, without a tremor of doubt or hesitation in his voice. “Tomorrow I elevate your soul.”
“We understand,” said Hamilton.
“Perfectly,” replied Burr. “The Supreme Seven has commanded this meeting,” spake Hamilton, inquiringly. “I understand that we are to arrange preliminaries in such way as they decide; so that there may be no hitch and no possibility of anything leaking out.”
Burr replied: “As far as I am concerned all is so arranged. I am commanded that the real cause of your death mu
st never by me be made public; for you are to die, Hamilton. The Iron Cross has decided it and I have decided it. I have challenged you on that understanding, and have so instructed Van Ness. Nevertheless you shall have all fair play although you rest under a sentence of death. I am not, nor do I intend to be an executioner. I meet you in battle, where you may still have a fighting cliance for your life. If you kill me you go free.”
To this Hamilton replied:
“On my side all is arranged on the same understanding. This is thoroughly understood by Judge Pendleton, my second. In the eyes of the world it must remain a political quarrel only. The correspondence leading up to the meeting is absolutely perfect. Both Pendleton and Van Ness are as silent as the stars, and Cheetham has his instructions.”
Then after a pause Burr said:
“I would now take this opportunity to ask you, Hamilton, the true genesis of your bitter animosity to me and my career? Why did you go out of your way to dash the cup of success from my lips? What induced you to break the alliance of our youth? Look what both of us have lost by it.
“I would have an explanation of this mystery from your own lips before death seals them forever.”
“Before answering your interrogation,” answered Hamilton, as he drew himself up with an assumption of cold hauteur, that he did not feel, (for the shadow of death was upon him and he knew it). “I also wish to ask you the very same question. Why did you first become my rival and then my most relentless foe? Did you induce me for a sinister purpose to swear allegiance to you.”