by Desmond Dilg
“Ah,” thought Burr. “It is too much for human nature to endure. It is more than an angel of glory could stand. I would be eternally dishonored if I did not lay him out stiff and cold. Doesn’t his own editor taunt me with cowardice? Me! Aaron Burr, who has ridden a hundred times into the bloody teeth of death.
“I must, I will vindicate my honor at any cost. Blood alone can wash away the stains and slurs he has cast on me and mine. Is not a man's private fame and personal honor his holiest possession? Has Hamilton not assailed me as being everything vile, hoping to gain by my downfall?”
The Vice President stood up and looked at himself in the great mirror. He clinched his hands and he shook them on high, and his eyes shone like burning coals as he spake or rather hissed half aloud:
“Hamilton, Hamilton, I shall kill you, aye even though it ruins me for ever to do it, aye though I lose all my property, all my popularity, all my fame. This time it is a fight to a finish. If mine eyes fail me not on the morrow, I will 'elevate' your soul to glory—if you have got one.
“Ah, I know it is written in the books 'Thou Shalt Not Kill' but should I obey that unwarrior-like injunction I am eternally disgraced. And should I not obey it and kill him, I am a ruined man. Either way it is fatal to me.
“Ruin.
“What is ruin to me? I fear not ruin. I fear nothing. I will dare and do till the last gasp comes. When the death-gurgle is in the throat of Aaron Burr then it is time enough for him to surrender. Meantime the world is wide and I am strong, and Mexico invites. Ah! that's the idea. Let conquest follow the line of least resistance. I will do to Mexico what Wolf did to Canada.
“Ruin.
“Let ruin come. Let the lightning from on high blast and burn my marrow; let wolves gnaw my entrails and hell yawn and gape beneath my feet; let the stars hurl themselves from heaven and engulf me in swirling vortexes of roaring flame, yet will I neither surrender nor retreat.
“No I will not surrender. I will smite him down. I will slay him as sure as my name is Aaron Burr. I will put the hoarded vengeance of a lifetime into a single pistol shot.”
Here’s a smile for those who love me
And a scowl for those that hate
And whatever sky’s above me
Here's a heart for any fate.
Then he sat down to the table in his lonely room and wrote to his daughter in South Carolina what he imagined might possibly be his last letter:
My Darling Daughter.
* * * I have lately written my Will, and in it I have bequeathed all my letters and papers to you. You will take special care of them and see that none of those in the three iron boxes are allowed to be published for three generations. If I die before you then it will devolve upon you to make the necessary arrangements as to this matter. I have no other directions to give you with regard to the contents of the other blue boxes except to burn everything that might by accident injure any person, especially if the person is a woman.
If your husband should think it worth while to write a sketch of my life he will find abundant material in the 6 blue boxes. My biographer (whomsoever he may be) should endeavor to be impartial and not spare me. I have done good things and bad in my life, as all men have. I do not wish to be painted as an angel, but as a man who did the best he could with the material at hand. My enemies will probably paint me as a devil and on that account I leave sufficient information to confound them; but I do not wish this information to be used until the time specified has elapsed.
I calculate that by that time this Republic will be firmly established, and no danger can come to it by any revelations left by me. New men will then have arisen capable I hope of viewing the happenings of today in a non-partisan spirit.
Tell my dear Natalie that I have not left her anything for the very good reason that I had nothing to leave. My estate after paying the mortgage due the Manhattan Bank (next year) will just pay my current debts and no more. I mean if I should die this year.
If I live a few years more it is probable things may be brighter, for land all around New York is rapidly increasing in value. * * * Give Natalie one of my pictures. There are three at Richmond Hill; one by Stewart and two by my protege Vanderlyn. Give her any other little tokens she may desire. One of those paintings I also pray you give to Dr. Eustis; and to Bartow something—whatever you please. * * *
I pray you also, you and your husband, to convey to Peggy, my old slave and housekeeper, the small lot (numbered) which is fourth article mentioned in my list of property. It is worth about $250. Give her also $50 cash as a reward for her fidelity. Dispose of Nancy (a black slave) as you may please. She is honest, robust, good tempered and worth at least $400. Peter, my coach man, is the most intelligent and best disposed black I have ever known. I mean the Darkey boy I bought last fall from Mr. Jefferson. I advise you by all means to keep him as a valet to your son. Persuade Peggy to live with you, if you can.
I have desired that my wearing apparel be given to Frederick. Give him also a sword or a pair of pistols but on no account must you part with my military sword, the one I wore when I first met your mother.
You will find a small bundle tied with a red string in the little flat writing case, the one we used with the curricle. It is marked “Putnam.” Burn it immediately.
The letters of Charlotte are tied up in a white silk handkerchief. Those of Helen and M. you will find in blue box numbered 5. You may hand them to Marie yourself or keep them. My letters to Clara and those to Leonora Sansay are in box No. 4. You and someday your son may laugh at me as you look over this nonsense, but please to remember that all these things were very real to me. * * *
The papers marked “Presidential Election 1800” are of great importance, and if I die efforts will undoubtedly be made to get possession of them by my foes, some of whom have the government at their back. Guard these papers with extraordinary care and beware of all attempts to get them out of your possession. In them are important State Secrets, and ample vindication of A. B.'s entire career.
The Seal of the late General Washington (which you will find in blue box No. 5) was given me by Mr. and Mrs. John Law. You may keep it as a family heirloom.
It just now occurs to me to give poor dear Frederick Provost (a stepson) my watch. When you come here you must send for Frederick and open your whole heart to him. * * *
I leave my “Blackstone” to Judge Van Ness, and “Aristophanes” you will send to Washington Irving.
Mind you, box No. 5 is the important one. No one must open it at any time but you. There are 6 of those blue boxes which contain my letters and writings and private and public correspondence. The keys of all the other boxes and writing cases are in the till of box No. 5.
The library, maps, pictures, and wines are all articles your husband will need. There is one bundle of Papers marked “Mexico” which I specially commend to his careful perusal. Mexico must some day be conquered and your husband should study those papers. Van Ness and Swartwout, are joint executors in my will, with you and Alston.
* * * I have called out General Hamilton and we meet tomorrow morning across on the Jersey shore at seven. Van Ness will give you the result. You know the cause long ago. * * *
The preceding has been written in contemplation of death. * * * If I Should fall. * * * I shall live in you and in your son. * * * I commit to you and to your husband all that is most dear to me.
I am indebted to you, my dear Theo., for a very great portion of the happiness which I have enjoyed in this life. You have completely satisfied all that my heart and affections had hoped or even wished. With a little more perseverance, determination and industry you will obtain all that my ambition or vanity had fondly imagined might be yours.
Let your son be proud (and have occasion to be proud) that he had such a mother.
Adieu! Adieu! Adieu! Perhaps adieu for evermore.
AARON BURR,
Vice Pres., U. S.
P. S. Your idea of dressing up pieces of ancient mythology in the fo
rm of amusing and instructive tales for children is very good. You yourself must write them. You have an excellent talent for writing.
A. B.
Now when Burr finished the above letter he picked up a parcel of new books just arrived from London. He opened them one by one and curiously glanced through them. One was written by an unknown new author who has since became famous. He opened this book at random and thus read:
It * * * the Duel is a direct appeal to Heaven to uphold the truth and punish falsehood * * * As great wars test great nations so duels prove to individual men what they really are * * * It is part of an ancient Saxon religious rite * * * According to the oldest Teutonic Law; if any man shall say unto another man “You have not the heart of a man” and the other shall reply “I am a man and as good as you.”
Then the two shall meet on the highway and fight with equal weapons, till one or the other be beaten or slain; and he who saves his life by surrendering shall be deemed the worser man; and he who wins the battle shall be deemed the best man and in the right.
The duel is an inheritance of Chivalry, and an institution for the preservation of high honor and fair dealing among gentlemen; and should it ever decline, then the honor and respect which one gentleman owes to another, must also decline in proportion.
Abusiveness in words then usurp the place of hard blows and chicken-hearted races count equal with men of the warrior and victorious races. * * *
Thus the man who uses insulting or defamatory language towards another, whether in public or in private, whether written, or printed, or spoken. should be made to fight or withdraw from the society of gentlemen and equals; otherwise a torrent of feminine vituperation and vilification of character and motive must be poured forth on the head of every man who is nobler by nature, or who attempts to be greater in the State than his neighbors. Every man who dares to excel will be assailed with the foulest abuse against which he will have no remedy, except such as would degrade him to the level of his assailant. * * *
The abolition of the Duel, therefore, would tend not to elevate but further to corrupt and degrade human intercourse and character * * * It would make prestige and power and authority possible to a lower and weaker type of man, and persons whose instincts and natures are entirely base and cowardly would hide their baseness under forms and terms of superior morality without fear of being found out by the supreme test, personal combat—a test that only the best and bravest bred men can face with equanimity. * * *
It (the Duel) entirely effaces a blow which an insult imprints on the honor or reputation of a man. * * *
Besides being accepted by law and custom for immemorial ages, it is also tacitly approved by Scripture as in the case of the rival champions of opposing tribes, David and Goliath, one of whom slew and decapitated the other, with the approval of the Almighty.
The Duel is also uncondemned by Luke xi, 21:22. and is upheld and implied in a permanent Fact of the Universe—the unending conflict between Good and Evil, between Darkness and Light, between God and Satan. The decision of battle is unmistakably the decree of heaven.
Furthermore, all through animate Nature, in air or land or sea, the Battle and the Duel are immovable and inexorable institutions. Not for nothing has the instinct towards combat been implanted in the souls of all the superior races of men. * * *
Even St. Thomas Aquinas, the “angelic doctor,” approves of the Duel in these words:
“It is lawful to kill a man to save ones honor, and a gentleman ought rather to kill than take to flight, or receive a blow from a stick.”
XVIII
Trial by Combat
Verily, verily, it was no child's play,
When Sigmund and Ossur met that day.
“Tell me the story of the fight, doctor? You were there and must know all about it. You were Hamilton's surgeon.”
These words were spoken to Dr. Hosack by John Adams as the two men (old friends) rode away in a closed coach from the burial of Alexander Hamilton.
“If you will give me your word of honor, Adams, never to make any public use of my story, I am willing to tell to you what I saw. You belong to the Iron Cross and so do I. Both of us are, therefore, well aware how Hamilton was sentenced and how the duel was partly in the nature of an execution.” Thus spake Dr. Hosack, an old gentleman with grey hair and a pink and white complexion.
“I give you my word,” answered John Adams, making a Sign. “You saw the duel, doctor?”
“I did. It took place at Weehawken over on the Jersey side. We crossed in one of Davis's boats and found Colonel Burr and Van Ness there before us, as per previous arrangement I believe. With their coats off they were busy clearing away the thistles and under-brush beneath the cliff on the dueling ground by the overhanging cedar tree.
“Every doctor in town knows the place, with its rough flight of stone steps, its briar and rose bushes, its great mass of thistles, the grey cliff behind and the rain-washed skull of a dead horse lying in the center. Hundreds of encounters have taken place there. I have been there in my professional capacity at least a dozen times.
“Hamilton's own son, his first born, was killed on the same spot three years ago in an affair with young Ecker. Curiously enough he was wounded in exactly the same way as his father, and under very similar circumstances. Ecker was a Burrite to the backbone. He and young Hamilton quarreled over Burr's daughter, the beautiful Theodosia.”
“Strange, is it not,” replied the Ex-President, “the blood of father and son mingled together in death upon the selfsame spot and over a similar quarrel; for, I believe women have been at the bottom of all the trouble. Indeed, it is like the climax of some terrible primeval drama.”
“Aye, Adams, the Cain and Abel tragedy is an eternal quantity.”
“It would seem so, Hosack. The bloodiest tragedies are the wars of brothers.”
“The Hamiltons do not seem to be favorites on the field of honor, do they?”
“No. Who won the toss for position, doctor?”
“Hamilton won it.”
“Who won the selection of the pistols?”
“Hamilton also.”
“Who gave the word?”
“Judge Pendleton. Hamilton's second.”
“Who fired first?”
“That is really more than I could honestly affirm.”
“It is rumored about town that Burr fired first.”
“The rumor is untrue.”
“You actually looked on the fight?”
“I did. I climbed up the rocks from the water side and watched it through the bushes.”
“How were they placed?”
“Hamilton stood up hill with his back to the cliff and his face to the city. Burr stood with his back to the river, his right foot poised on the bent-over stump of a huge Scotch thistle; for the rocky ledge is by no means level. Alongside of him was a wild rose bush in bloom. His own cheeks were red as the roses.”
“What happened when the word was given?”
“Both shots rang out together, and before the powder smoke cleared away, Hamilton rose convulsively on his toes and sank down in a heap, the blood gushing from his side.”
“What then?”
“Burr threw down his pistol, stepped towards Hamilton and said, “E La Moot.”
“It was dramatic!”
“Very. Hamilton turned on his elbow in the long grass and hissed back at Burr the penal word, but only got as far as ‘E La' when he fell back in a dead swoon. I was by his side almost immediately, while Judge Van Ness hurried Burr down to the boat behind an umbrella to prevent any possibility of legal identification as to the shooting.”
“Pendleton asserts that Burr fired first and Van Ness swears that Hamilton fired first,” queried John Adams. “Now, who do you think is really right?”
“Neither,” replied the doctor, decisively. “It’s all politics with them. No mortal man could ever tell who fired first. The pistols cracked together I tell you, and were smoking at the same instant of time
. It does not really matter anyhow, as no shot was fired until the word was given. When the word is given each man must then use his own judgment whether he fires quick or slow.”
“Did they have any advantage over each other in other ways?”
“If anything, Hamilton had the advantage. He selected the position where he stood, his second had the choice of weapons and the giving of the signal. Broadly speaking, they were placed on an absolutely equal footing.”
“Where was Hamilton hit?”
“Just under the heart. The bullet lodged in his backbone. An inch higher and it would have been instant death for him; but he lingered thirty-six hours.”
“The Vice President is said to be a crack shot?”
“So also is Hamilton.”
“True, both are old military men, well accustomed to the taking and giving of blows.”
“Yes. To my knowledge they have slain many men in their time. Both have been well accustomed to the use of fire arms.”
“Aye, that is so, now that I remember. Hamilton challenged Monroe and he also acted as second in the duel between Laurens and General Charles Lee.”
“Yes, and Burr has fought repeatedly on the same spot. In the war he is said to have made a reputation as a man who never pulled a trigger without bringing down his man. He has splendid nerve.”
“I’ve heard he and Hamilton were early friends and often acted as seconds to each other.”