Fallen Founder

by Nancy Isenberg

  When Hamilton realized that House Federalists were more than willing to elect Burr, he was startled and dashed off frantic letters to all the key congressional leaders. Horrified that Burr might become the head of his party, he pleaded with Theodore Sedgwick and others: “For heaven’s sake let not the Federalist party be responsible for the elevation of this Man.” His worst nightmare seemed to be unfolding. Burr’s favorable press must have infuriated him. How could it not? He was being praised as an energetic statesman and a bona fide military hero, in terms that reflected Hamilton’s image of himself.103

  His repetitious letters were filled with outrageous, and occasionally, petty charges. He conjured all the Federalist demons, calling Burr an “American Cataline” and a revolutionary fanatic who “talked perfect Godwinism.” Cataline was the greatest of Roman conspirators, a familiar figure to eighteenth-century readers, whose unspeakable crimes included incest and homicide—murdering his wife, sister, and son. William Godwin was married to the feminist Mary Wollstonecraft. He was a supporter of the French revolutionaries and a ready symbol of sexual equality and social leveling; his writings critiqued the established political and religious order with equal fervor. In these comparisons, Hamilton was accusing Burr of being unbalanced, of lacking moral values, of behaving as a political chameleon, and of despising democracy, while playing it for all it was worth.104

  Hamilton went on to paint Burr as a man of “extreme & irregular ambition—that is selfish to a degree which excludes all social affections & that he is decidedly profligate.” He wanted his traditional allies to view Burr as a man without love of country, family, or society, an unscrupulous despot in the making, whose main goal was nothing less than to “establish supreme Power in his own person.” As the ultimate narcissist (“he loves nothing but himself”), Burr was unconstrained; as a “bankrupt” and “voluptuary,” his unquenchable ambition had no limits. In predictably hysterical tones, Hamilton charged that Burr would rush to war with Great Britain, if it suited his whims, signing a “death warrant” for the nation. If members of the House believed they could tame Burr, he declared, they were sadly mistaken. Burr would surround himself with the “worst men of all parties,” courting the “young and profligate,” all the while “laughing in his sleeve” at those who imagined they could rein him in. Lest they doubt him, Hamilton reminded his colleagues that he was an authority on Burr; his wrathful words were meant, somehow, to be understood as a fair and balanced sketch of Burr’s character. Amazingly, there are still chroniclers of the election of 1800 who rely on Hamilton’s letters as authentic and reasoned artifacts.105

  Nor could Hamilton resist a few callous cuts at Burr’s touted abilities. He dismissed his rival’s military record as undeserved, claiming that Burr had resigned his commission “at a critical period of the war,” feigning illness; afterwards he was “seen in his usual health.” His “understanding was overrated,” Hamilton went on. Burr was “far more cunning than wise,” and he had never shown any “proofs of those solid abilities which characterize the statesman.”106

  A series of letters shows Hamilton’s mind at work. He dispatched a letter to the New York patrician Gouverneur Morris (changing little in his formulaic harangue), forgetting that Morris knew Burr’s character, and was not easily fooled. Morris had already sent one of his own to Hamilton, noting perceptively how odd it was that the Federalists seemed so willing “to support a man (unjustly perhaps) they consider as void of principle.” The key words here are the parenthetical “unjustly perhaps.” By saying that he doubted those who diminished Burr’s character, Morris showed that he knew the difference between a fish story and the real Burr.107

  Hamilton’s response is revealing. He could hardly deny what the perceptive Morris reckoned to be true. So he wrote back: “If there was a man in the world I ought to hate it is Jefferson. With Burr I have always been personally well.” This letter has often been quoted to prove that Hamilton’s evaluation of Burr was unbiased, and that his preference for Jefferson was somehow based on a fair comparison of the two candidates. But what it actually demonstrates is Hamilton’s willingness to use any ploy to persuade the skeptical Morris. Furthermore, Hamilton’s fierce opposition to Burr was no different than his maneuvering behind the scenes to defeat Adams—and his almost identical statement (before the tie) that he actually wished Jefferson to win rather than having to lift a finger to help the sitting president get reelected. In both cases, Hamilton preferred to do battle with Jefferson, as head of the contending party, rather than to compete for the leadership role in his own party. If the Federalists elevated Burr, then Hamilton faced the prospect of losing control of the Federalists both nationally and locally. In Hamilton’s mind, having a rival within his own party, and from his own state, was far more dangerous than a Jefferson presidency. It meant the end of his political career.108

  Yet all of Hamilton’s fussing had little impact. No one shared his dire outlook. John Marshall politely thanked him for his “impartial” account of Burr, but still refused to do anything to help Jefferson. James A. Bayard of Delaware interpreted Hamilton’s rant as nothing more than a concern with Burr’s “want of probity,” a defect (common to politicians at this time) hardly serious enough to disqualify him. Hamilton’s overwrought conspiratorial portrait of Burr seemed ludicrous to the South Carolinian John Rutledge: If Burr attempted a coup, as Hamilton was predicting, the government would quickly stop him. And as for Jefferson, Rutledge reasoned, little could be done to curtail his “subversion” [i.e., undoing Federalist policies], as long as it remained within the law. Only Sedgwick’s duplicity may have exceeded Hamilton’s: perhaps Burr was “ambitious—selfish—profligate,” yet character flaws were irrelevant. All that mattered, said the Massachusetts Federalist, was that Burr’s election could be used to destroy the Republican Party. For Sedgwick, at least, sowing distrust and dissension among the enemy was worth the risk of making a profligate man president.109

  Meanwhile, Republicans were angry and confused, uncertain what response would effectively avert an “usurpation.” Jefferson was appalled that Federalists might refuse to name a president, leaving the government without a head and creating what he called an “abyss” that would undermine the nation’s safety and survival. In the National Intelligencer, the Republican newspaper in Washington, one writer echoed this theme, contending that the Federalists had to make a choice and that Jefferson, embodying the true will of the people, could be the only valid victor; if they refused to abide by that will, the same writer warned, the federal government would dissolve on March 4, returning to its original form (pre-1787) as a confederation of independent states. Congressman Joseph H. Nicholson fumed that if the Federalists persisted, “Virginia would instantly proclaim herself out of the Union.” Talk circulated that the Virginia and Pennsylvania militias were ready to march on Washington and forcibly remove any pretender whom the Federalists might put in the president’s chair.110

  Such were the scenarios that colored public discourse in the winter of 1800–01. Republicans at once brandished their swords and indulged in fantasies of their own victimization. The Philadelphia Aurora prophesied that the Federalists would soon have blood on their hands, for their real intent was to assassinate Jefferson, and then march on the poorly defended capital with 70,000 armed soldiers. After a mysterious fire broke out in the Treasury Department in January, only two months after a fire had damaged the War Department, some cried arson. Rumors quickly spread that valuable state papers had been torched to conceal some dark secret of the Adams administration.111

  When Albert Gallatin arrived in Washington in early January 1801, he immediately perceived just how unhealthy and claustrophobic the city was. Nearly all the elected officials inhabited the same eight boardinghouses near the Capitol. Gallatin roomed at Conrad & McMunn’s, as did Jefferson, Samuel Smith, and other Republicans. He wrote his wife, partly tongue-in-cheek, that “being all thrown together in a few boarding houses without
hardly any other society then [sic] ourselves, we are not likely to be either very moderate politicians or to think of anything but politics. A few indeed drink and some gamble, but the majority drink nought but politics, and by not mixing with men of different or more moderate sentiments, they inflame one another.” Whether or not they were naturally alarmist, Republicans were at this moment feeding on their own fears.112

  Gallatin himself was caught up in the frenzy. He began to think that the Federalists might delay electing a president in order to force a new election—an election that would be rigged so that the Republicans could not possibly win. On January 22, he wondered in a letter to his wife: “Will they usurp at once the Presidential Powers?” Would they try the “overthrow of our constitution” and incite a civil war? Twelve days earlier, suspecting something of the kind, James Madison had decided that it was too dangerous to stand idly by and wait for the Federalists to act. On January 10, he proposed that Jefferson and Burr issue a joint proclamation, calling the new legislature into session for the purpose of selecting the president. This aggressive, extraconstitutional measure was endorsed by both Jefferson and Burr.113

  Madison’s plan may have been overreaching, but some Republicans were altogether too pliable. One Republican plan that made the rounds in Washington would have made Burr president and Jefferson vice president for one year, after which a new election would be held. Another plan called for Burr to resign before balloting began in the House, awarding Jefferson the presidency; but it would have made outgoing President Adams his successor’s vice president, leaving Burr with no office at all. (Samuel Smith would make this proposal to Burr, which Burr flatly rejected.)114

  Gallatin could support neither plan. Upon careful reflection, he concluded that the best course for Republicans was to remain firm, for he supposed the Federalists to be bluffing. Gallatin figured that the defeated party was hoping that the Republican strategists’ “imbecility” would lead them to “yield . . . rather than run any risk.” That is, if the Republicans’ fear got the better of them, they might be willing to hand over the presidency or vice presidency, or make some other dangerous compromise, in order to avoid further turmoil or outright civil war, even though they had won the election.115

  Throughout the election crisis, Burr stayed away from Washington. On February 2, 1801, Theodosia married Joseph Alston in Albany. The two had been courting for the past year, exchanging lively letters, even debating the rationale for marrying young. Alston, who was twenty-one, belonged to one of the wealthiest plantation families in South Carolina, and Theodosia may have seen this marriage as a way to rescue her father’s desperate finances. But it was never simply about money. Alston had briefly attended Princeton, and then studied law. He had met Theodosia while traveling in the North. Alston struck some as arrogant, and as a young man in a position of social authority, he undoubtedly was. To the sister of one marital prospect whom he had rejected, he appeared the “most intolerable mortal I ever beheld.” But by all accounts, he adored his eighteen-year-old wife and respected his father-in-law. His courtship letters, in which he mingled talk of mutual self-improvement with romantic imagery, show that he admired his wife’s intelligence. Thus, Burr had more on his mind than the election, at least for part of the winter of 1800–01.116

  But Burr never lost touch with his colleagues in Washington. He received reports from Jefferson, Gallatin, and Smith, and even agreed to spend a few days with Smith in Philadelphia in early January. On December 29, in advance of their meeting, he wrote Smith of his anger toward certain unnamed Republicans whose “jealousy and distrust” of him had caused them to query him about resigning should he be made president. Just two weeks earlier, he had told Smith in no uncertain terms that he “should utterly disclaim all competition” with Jefferson for the top spot on the ticket. Now, he was annoyed that it was not only necessary to repeat himself, but that he was expected to resign under any circumstance that threatened what Republicans were calling a Federalist “usurpation.” House Federalists might still create a deadlock by refusing to give Jefferson a majority; in failing to elect a president, they could then appoint a temporary chief executive until the next election.117

  Burr considered the unnamed Republicans’ anxious appeal to him to resign as “unnecessary, unreasonable and impertinent,” because he did not believe the Federalists could succeed in manipulating the process to any such degree as they feared. He made his feelings clear to a Republican confidant, William Eustis, when he noted that the Federalists had chosen to completely ignore even his most decisive disavowal. They had decided to do what they wanted, regardless of his wishes, so why issue a further disavowal? The Federalists were not united, Burr insisted, and “cannot probably unite” to achieve their aim of substituting him for Jefferson, the man who the Republicans uniformly intended for the presidency. Why, as he had said to Smith, should he have to put up with those who, after supporting him for vice president, now suddenly feared he might have loftier aspirations? He was insulted. And he was not in a forgiving mood.118

  Burr was sick and tired of the southerners who were suddenly intent on impugning his motives. But it was Smith’s obstructive behavior that troubled him even more than southerners’ capriciousness. Burr now sensed that Smith wanted him to resign, just as much as some of the other panicky Republicans. No “democrat” should “for a Moment doubt about the line of Conduct I should pursue,” he insisted, cautioning Smith against “phantoms” and urging him to show “firmness and Vigor.” Smith’s gullibility made him an easy mark for Federalist manipulators, prompting Burr finally to rail at him: “You seem to believe every lie you hear.” Though he probably was unaware of Smith’s earlier machinations, Burr should have been wary of his fellow Republican before this anyway. Recall that Smith had at one point recommended a Jefferson-Adams compromise ticket. At this crucial moment, there was a simple reason why Burr and Smith were at odds: Smith was willing to compromise Burr’s future, and Burr was not.119

  But Smith persisted. When they met on January 3, 1801, the Marylander still wanted Burr to issue a strong public statement declaring that he would resign to break any deadlock in the House, if a president was not in place by March 4, inauguration day. While Smith was advising Burr to sacrifice himself, no one of consequence was—not Jefferson, not Madison, not Gallatin. In fact, the Republican leadership was entirely pleased with Burr’s response to these pressures. Gallatin wrote to his wife on January 15 that Burr had no intention whatsoever of satisfying the Federalists. He “sincerely opposed the design,” said Gallatin, “and will go [to] any lengths to prevent its execution.” Earlier in the month, Jefferson told his daughter that “the Federalists were confident at first they could debauch Col. B.,” and then he reassuringly added: “His conduct has been honorable and decisive, and greatly embarrasses them.” George Clinton, hardly inclined to trust his old rival, was convinced of Burr’s honorable intentions after a personal conversation with him. On January 13, he wrote his nephew, DeWitt Clinton: “I have reason to believe from Burr’s explicit declaration to me that he will not countenance a Competition for the Presidency with Mr. Jefferson.”120

  As the crisis escalated, rumors quickly spread that Burr had double agents in Washington, secretly promoting his presidency over Jefferson. Many historians have assumed that Burr and his agents were jockeying among Republicans and Federalists, open to a deal of some sort. But no reliable evidence of this exists. One New York congressman caught in the web of gossip was Edward Livingston. It is true that Burr trusted Livingston and bade him carry a message to Washington, but the message was the same one that Burr had made perfectly clear to Smith: Republicans must stand firm, and he would never comply with the “proposed Usurpation.” So where did the idea of Livingston as Burr’s double agent originate? Not surprisingly, it was Hamilton who concocted a story that Livingston was cornering the New York House delegation, and convincing them to vote for Burr.121

  The same can be said for the
other supposed double agents of Burr, and those such as James Linn of New Jersey, accused of becoming a turncoat. Linn, a Republican congressman, was said to have been easily tempted to sell out Jefferson, though he never cast a vote for Burr. Meanwhile, Samuel Smith and David Ogden of New York were meant to be haunting Congress and the boardinghouses, looking for a way to make Burr president. These were real people, but none of them in fact acted as a double agent of Burr. Most remarkable was the charge that Samuel Smith was one of these agents, given that every piece of evidence shows a growing distrust between them. Burr doubted Smith’s ability to function as an honest intermediary, let alone his agent.122

  It is just as far-fetched to suggest that Burr would abandon the Republican Party at this moment, given the decisive role he had undertaken in transforming New York into a Republican state. He would have lost his base, loyal supporters he had acquired over the years, especially through his labors in the state assembly. No politician could maintain his national stature without a strong local following in his own state. Does it really make sense that Burr would sacrifice everything he had worked for? He was still only forty-six, and in eight years he would be in line for the presidency.

  After balloting in the House (to break the tie) began on Wednesday, February 11, 1801, Burr, in New York, wrote to Gallatin, who was in Washington: “I shall act in defiance of all timid temporizing projects.” Livingston, meanwhile, wrote from Washington to Matthew Livingston Davis in New York: “Our city shall never be disgraced by any temporizing plan or acquiescence in usurpation.” Burr’s and Livingston’s matching vocabulary was no accident. For Burr, it was a matter of honor that his position be rightly understood and that the Republicans make no compromises. And that was his loftiest ambition at this perilous moment in American politics.123

  There were nineteen ballots read and recorded on Wednesday. Congress remained in session long past midnight. The Aurora reported: “It is ludicrous to see some of them running with anxiety from the committee rooms, with their nightcaps on.” The deadlock remained unbroken: eight states for Jefferson, six for Burr, and two states with split delegations. Three more ballots were taken over the next two days, without any different result. Another observer described the character of these proceedings as “a pontifical enclave.” Finally, on Saturday, excitement rocked the legislative chamber. That day, Federalist James Bayard of Delaware resolved to try to reach an understanding with the Republicans, approaching John Nicholas of Virginia: If Jefferson would agree to continue to strengthen the navy and, by the by, maintain a particular friend of Bayard’s in his appointed office, Bayard—who had cast his vote for Burr since Wednesday, and was the sole representative from his tiny state—would withhold his vote on the next ballot, and other Federalists would follow, making Jefferson president.124