Burr was fully sympathetic to the goals of the democratic societies, believing that they had every right to shape public opinion. Throughout the summer and fall of 1795, as public outcry over the Jay Treaty peaked, Burr felt perfectly comfortable praising all such popular protests. In a letter to Henry Tazewell, a letter signed “health & fraternity,” Burr embraced the trademark greeting of the French-inspired democratic societies.35
Interestingly, the two satires of 1795 played with an image of Burr as a faux democrat. He was alleged to be an aristocrat slumming with democrats, using the “people” to promote his private ambition. Known in Federalist circles for his shifting alliances (his “ever varying mien”), Burr was a demagogue waiting to be crowned. Likened to Genet, he was a political alien, an outsider in his native land. His glaring absence from the Constitutional Convention (“silent, at home, neglected”) was meant to demonstrate his lack of commitment to the federal government, insofar as he had no hand in its creation.36
But the added fear for Federalists was that Burr was dangerous—more so even than Jefferson—as the author of Aristocracy claimed because, unlike the heralded Virginian, he could mobilize support for the Republicans in the North. Burr’s rivalry with Hamilton presented a cruel irony. The Federalists’ talented, charismatic leader was not the heir apparent to Washington in 1795, because the ornery, yet statesmanlike, John Adams was. Hamilton would never be elected senator or governor, let alone president of the United States. Universally regarded as the most ambitious among ambitious men, he would never claim “the Empire’s highest seat.” Burr, on the other hand, though he was roundly attacked for his ambition by Hamiltonians, was both electable and, at this moment, a seeming successor to Jefferson. The Virginia Republicans may not have been gazing so far into the future, but it would appear that some fearful Federalists were. By 1795, Burr was already a “dangerous” Republican who had to be tarred as a faux founder. Standing in the shadow of Jefferson, he was, as importantly, hovering in the path of Hamilton, threatening to eclipse his glorious career.
“MR. NOBODY”
This fear was manifest on a regional as well as national level. Federalists were troubled by Burr’s political ambition within New York State. In December 1794, Hamilton’s father-in-law, Philip Schuyler, fretted in a letter to Rufus King that Burr might be scheming to steal the governor’s seat in the upcoming election. Schuyler assumed that Clinton and Burr had made a secret pact: the old governor would back Burr, while Clinton ran for the U.S. Senate, positioning himself to be Jefferson’s running mate in 1796. Schuyler was mistaken about Clinton, but right about Burr, who did set his sights on the state’s highest office.37
Yet Burr had competition. While Clinton’s plans were uncertain—except that it did seem likely he would step aside—two other familiar figures had joined the race: Chancellor Robert Livingston and New York State Supreme Court Chief Justice Robert Yates. None of the above candidates pleased the Schuyler faction. John Jay—a gracious loser in the last contest—was their best hope, even though his diplomatic mission to England had taken him out of the country. They would run Jay in absentia, a move that makes little sense to modern observers but did nothing to hurt his chances then. Indeed, landing in New York a full month after the polls closed, the victorious Jay was inaugurated on July 1, 1795.38
This bizarre gubernatorial election reveals some of the odd twists and turns of early New York politics. Outside the state, Republicans like James Madison speculated that Burr would run against Hamilton. They were wrong. The former treasury secretary refused to stand for elective office. Parties, in fact, had little impact on the 1795 governor’s race—the candidates presented themselves as moderates, independent of national alliances. To put it best, they straddled parties. Yates, not Burr, became the favorite among Clintonians after Clinton announced he would not seek reelection. Though he received support from Republicans in the state, Yates was also courted by prominent Federalists.39
Yates’s career was indicative of the difference between state and national politics. Looking back, during the volatile election of 1792, Yates had first endorsed Burr before supporting Jay. In 1789, he had run against Clinton, and received Hamilton’s backing. The picture might seem blurred, but really is not. Yates was not a Clinton man. He was a bipartisan candidate, an Anti-Federalist embraced by the Federalists, who would find himself “repackaged” to satisfy the Clinton wing of the Republicans. The national parties had hardened by 1793, but state conditions did not mirror the national scene—and we must be careful not to equate political identities and individual actions in the 1790s with the way today’s system functions.40
We must understand Burr’s political personality in a similar way. His campaign followed a strategy of non-partisanship, much like that of Yates. What made him attractive as a candidate was his independence from the dominant family-based factions—the Clintons, Livingstons, and Schuylers. In the Albany Gazette, he gained the support of one adherent “not because I know him to belong to either one faction or another but because I believe him to belong to none.” His integrity resided in the liberality of his views. Incongruously, Hamilton would turn Burr’s moderation on its head and equate it with lack of principle (and in saying so, mean moral principle) when he knew full well, if he could have admitted it to himself, that Burr was acting in a predictable fashion for a New York office seeker. Hamilton’s peevish characterization of Burr as a man devoid of principle obscures the fact that straddling parties was the way New York governors were elected at this time. A less judgmental Federalist at the same time praised Burr for “his abilities as a statesman, Philosopher, and soldier,” a suitable candidate for “every enlightened citizen.”41
Federalist-friendly Peter Van Gaasbeek, who proudly hung a portrait of Burr in his home, ran the unsuccessful campaign. Most, if not all, of Burr’s Federalist support came from Van Gaasbeek’s bailiwick of Ulster County. Writing to Stephen Van Rensselaer (one of the landed gentry in the state and Schuyler’s son-in-law), Van Gaasbeek readily admitted that Burr was not a Hamiltonian Federalist: “As to politicks, he and I often differ in our Votes on particular measures.” And yet the political strategist defended Burr as “an upright Man and as good a friend to the Constitution & to good Government as you or I.”42
Adding to the oddity of the campaign, Van Rensselaer toyed with the idea of running as Burr’s lieutenant governor, and secretly kept Schuyler informed of Burr’s plans. Schuyler had no sense of irony. He simply reacted, preferring anyone to the “obnoxious” Burr—even if it meant another term under Clinton, whom he considered “the least of two evils.” Meanwhile, Burr’s Republican stalwarts in New York City—men like Marinus Willett, Melancton Smith, and John Lamb—also failed to drum up meaningful support. By the end of March, Burr and Livingston had folded, and though Yates remained in the race, the absent Jay cruised to the governorship.43
But Burr was attracting attention for his campaign style. And he was doing something quite different from the other candidates, which his enemies were quick to point out. Chancellor Livingston observed that Burr had rented a house in Albany, setting up shop in the capital to secure the votes from the northern part of the state. This was the most striking feature of Burr’s activities: his willingness to openly engage in campaigning. It was a practice that virtually all eighteenth-century candidates avoided. Candidates were not to behave as “candidates”; they strenuously sought to appear aloof and disinterested. By 1795, however, indifference to electioneering had become simply a pose. Burr refused to play the game of appearances, and in doing so anticipated the modern democratic campaign style.44
Seeking the governorship, he traveled across the state personally, using his court appearances in various districts as a means of shoring up support. He did not rely just on Van Gaasbeek or other emissaries to promote his candidacy, nor did he depend heavily on letter campaigns or newspapers to shape the opinion of the electorate. Burr, prompted by an emerging but still un
spoken democratic impulse, felt that the candidate himself had to hit the campaign trail.45
High Federalists, married to traditional definitions of political decorum, took this opportunity to mock Burr’s ambition. Pedantic Noah Webster, editor of the New York Federalist newspaper American Minerva, decried a “certain little Senator, running about the streets, whispering soft things in people’s ears, and making large entertainments.” It helps to qualify what Burr did by seeing it as his eagerness to be both the candidate and the party manager. He preferred to undertake tasks rather than to delegate them. He differed from Jefferson, who relied on men like John Beckley, Republican clerk of the House of Representatives, to serve as his intelligence agent and campaign coordinator. Similarly, Jay allowed Schuyler and Hamilton to control his campaign from behind the scenes. Burr was willing to canvass the voters, collect useful information, and win over voters in person. He did so primarily because he enjoyed being a strategist, a hands-on organizer—a political general. He was drawn to the political battlefield. While Federalists unsparingly satirized Burr’s “modest, unaspiring disposition, his aversion to office, and his abhorrence of every species of intrigue to obtain political preferment,” the truth they refused to acknowledge was that Burr was naturally honest about campaigning, and his opponents dared not be as open.46
Burr struck a nerve among New York Federalists, who uncomfortably perceived the beginnings of political change. Self-created democratic societies were calling novel kinds of public forums, fostering newer, more intimate alliances among private citizens. Self-created candidates provoked the same underlying anxiety. In 1794, Noah Webster had published another parody of democratic electioneering, which anticipated the complaint he would make against Burr. His generic candidate avidly pursued office: “I can do all the rest myself—I will run about the streets, take every body by the hand, squeeze it hard, smile and look sweet.” What most annoyed Webster was that the new style of campaigning could make a “SOMEBODY” out of a “MR. NOBODY.” Politics was a crude avenue for social climbing, a means of gaining fame without possessing an earned reputation.47
Burr’s innovation (or transgression, to his enemies) was his willingness to cross certain social boundaries. By campaigning openly, he exposed the hidden side of politics, revealing the mechanics of electioneering that most eighteenth-century politicians concealed behind the mask of virtuous disinterestedness. He was not the only candidate to behave in this manner, though perhaps at this time none made his opposition feel quite so uneasy.
Though Jay won the governor’s race, Burr continued to make campaign excursions that year, leaving his home state to get a feel for the broader political climate, with his eye on the upcoming presidential election. In August 1795, he headed north to Boston and Portsmouth, New Hampshire, gleaning the sentiments of New Englanders with respect to the Jay Treaty. He assured a fellow Republican that the general hostility exhibited toward the treaty would “produce some effect” in New England’s next elections. Almost immediately after he returned to New York, in September, he took the stage south, spending over three months in Virginia, the embryonic District of Columbia, and Philadelphia. While in Richmond, he met with Governor Robert Brooke, and several other state power brokers, including former Senator (and friend) John Taylor of Caroline. Warmly received in Virginia, Burr acknowledged the “Civilities which are lavished upon me” by its Republican leaders.48
He spent only one day at Monticello. There is no record of what Jefferson and Burr discussed during this brief visit. Later, in the heat of 1796 presidential campaign, rumors flew that they had mapped out “rash and violent measures” against the Jay Treaty, with one nefarious design in mind: “to change our government,” Federalist Chauncey Goodrich claimed, “and make Jefferson President, and Burr Vice President.” The two men had little time to plan, and it is highly unlikely that they accomplished anything so momentous as cementing the Republican ticket. Still, Burr was actively campaigning. He had made the long trip not just to consult with Jefferson but to show in the flesh his commitment to the Virginia Republicans.49
Though the national election of 1796 was technically the first contested presidential race, it is best described as a transitional moment separating the ostensibly non-partisan era of Washington from the fiercely partisan struggle to take place in 1800. The only state with an effective (Republican) party machine was Pennsylvania. It appears also to have been the only state to clearly identify candidates for president and vice president. Why is this significant? The Electoral College did not yet distinguish between the two top national offices, and so every elector in every state cast 2 votes, each vote bearing equal weight. The presidency was to be awarded to the person receiving the most electoral votes; the second-place finisher would become vice president. Except in Pennsylvania, where a “ticket” was introduced into voters’ minds, presidential electors were left, more or less, to their own devices when it came to voting for the number two spot. Although the two emerging parties, Federalists and Republicans, did present tickets, pairing Adams and Thomas Pinckney of South Carolina, and Jefferson and Burr, the state electors did not necessarily follow suit. In the end, over a dozen candidates received votes.50
Following Hamilton’s advice, President Washington delayed announcing his retirement until September 1796. The campaign officially opened, in that sense, in September. But even before Washington made his intentions known, the two parties were devising their campaign strategies in private. By May of that year, the leaders on both sides had already prepared for a contest between Jefferson and Adams. They did not anticipate what actually happened, however: that a seemingly peripheral candidate—Pinckney—would complicate the electoral vote tally and cause confusion among partisans.51
The election of 1796 eventually became a three-way competition marked by sectional distrust and internal party division. Pinckney had been selected by mainstream Federalists to be, in effect, Adams’s running mate; but Hamilton, taking advantage of the fact that there were no rules as yet, surreptitiously promoted Pinckney as the dark horse candidate for president. Remarkable as it must seem to us, none of the key political players expressed interest in the selection of a vice president, save for a few Federalists who recognized the very real (and alarming) possibility that Jefferson might fill the second spot. The presidential vote of 1796 is on close inspection a revealing study in the fitful process by which national election standards came into being.52
Because the party system was new, there was an unusual lack of leadership or party discipline. Jefferson, living in retirement since 1793, was a genuinely reluctant candidate. Madison, fearful of the alternative, took on the responsibility of convincing his friend to stay in the race, but even Madison abandoned Philadelphia after the adjournment of Congress in June. The historian Stephen Kurtz observed that “no Republican of [Madison’s] stature took over the direction of the campaign in the decisive last three months.” This disorganized state of affairs allowed sectional concerns to take precedence over national ones. Party manager John Beckley, a Virginian, orchestrated a surprising victory for the Republicans in Pennsylvania, but in the course of doing so he sparked tensions with local Republican leader Alexander Dallas. It was provincialism that contributed most to Burr’s weak showing in the election; the candidate’s personal qualities were, at best, a secondary factor.53
We need to examine the sectional problem more closely. Before he left Philadelphia, Madison called a caucus meeting of Senate Republicans in May to select a running mate for Jefferson. Unfortunately, evidence of what happened at the meeting is fragmentary, the only “records” emerging from gossip circulated by Federalists, who were, as always, quick to find fault with their opponents. The vice-presidential possibilities were Burr, New York’s Chancellor Robert Livingston, New Hampshire senator John Langdon, and South Carolina senator Pierce Butler. It was not a friendly gathering: tempers flared, and when Butler failed to garner support, he stormed out. It appears that Butler
opposed Burr’s candidacy on strictly sectional grounds, claiming he (Butler) could guarantee the votes of South Carolina, whereas Burr, a northerner, could only lose valuable southern support for the Republican ticket. His point, whether he intended it or not, was obvious: the Republican Party, as constituted in 1796, remained a regional party, and could only win by solidifying its southern base, and hoping for a few northern defectors.54
Sectional distrust punctuated the Philadelphia meeting. Langdon and Livingston were northerners, neither of whom had much national influence. Like George Clinton, they were “safe” candidates, who posed no threat to the southern Republican interest. On the other hand, the more prominent Burr was hard for his southern colleagues to trust: he was an active and mobile politician, the kind who generated impatient rumors. One Federalist congressman and confidant of Hamilton, William Loughton Smith, reported of the caucus meeting that many southerners felt Burr was “unsettled in his politics and are afraid he will go over to the other side.” The other side? There is no real evidence of this. A modern study of Burr’s voting record in the U.S. Senate demonstrates that he ranked high in party loyalty. Everyone at the Philadelphia meeting knew Burr’s voting record, which suggests that their fears were rather a function of sectional distrust. Did the southerners really want their party to be a national party? In 1796, the answer was not at all clear.55
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