Quite unexpectedly to himself, the work proved a success, not only in public acceptance and esteem, but even in a temporal view, bringing to him at last a modest competence, which he accepted with surprise and gratitude. To the last of a very long life, he was the same steady, undiscouraged worker, the same calm witness against popular sins and proclaimer of unpopular truths, ever saying and doing what he saw to be eternally right, without the slightest consultation with worldly expediency or earthly gain; nor did his words cease to work in New England till the evils he opposed were finally done away.
Colonel Burr leaves the scene of our story to pursue those brilliant and unscrupulous political intrigues so well known to the historian of those times, and whose results were so disastrous to himself. His duel with the ill-fated Hamilton,1 the awful retribution of public opinion that followed, and the slow downward course of a doomed life are all on record. Chased from society, pointed at everywhere by the finger of hatred, so accursed in common esteem that even the publican who lodged him for a night refused to accept his money when he knew his name, heart-stricken in his domestic relations, his only daughter taken by pirates and dying amid untold horrors,—one seems to see in a doom so much above that of other men the power of an avenging Nemesis2 for sins beyond those of ordinary humanity.
But we who have learned of Christ may humbly hope that these crushing miseries in this life came not because he was a sinner above others, not in wrath alone,—but that the prayers of the sweet saint who gave him to God even before his birth brought to him those friendly adversities, that thus might be slain in his soul the evil demon of pride, which had been the opposing force to all that was noble within him. Nothing is more affecting than the account of the last hours of this man, whom a woman took in and cherished in his poverty and weakness with that same heroic enthusiam with which it was his lot to inspire so many women. This humble keeper of lodgings was told, that, if she retained Aaron Burr, all her other lodgers would leave. “Let them do it, then,” she said; “but he shall remain.” In the same uncomplaining and inscrutable silence in which he had borne the reverses and miseries of his life did this singular being pass through the shades of the dark valley. The New Testament was always under his pillow, and when alone he was often found reading it attentively; but of the result of that communion with higher powers he said nothing. Patient, gentle, and grateful, he was, as to all his inner history, entirely silent and impenetrable. He died with the request, which has a touching significance, that he might be buried at the feet of those parents whose lives had finished so differently from his own.
“No farther seek his errors to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode.”3
Shortly after Mary’s marriage, Madame de Frontignac sailed with her husband for home, where they lived in a very retired way on a large estate in the South of France. An intimate corresponden e was kept up between her and Mary for many years, from which we shall give our readers a few extracts. Her first letter is dated shortly after her return to France.
“At last, my sweet Marie, you behold us in peace after our wanderings. I wish you could see our lovely nest in the hills, which overlook the Mediterranean, whose blue waters remind me of Newport harbor and our old days there. Ah, my sweet saint, blessed was the day I first learned to know you! for it was you, more than anything else, that kept me back from sin and misery. I call you my Sibyl, dearest, because the Sibyl was a prophetess of divine things out of the Church; and so are you. The Abbé says, that all true, devout persons in all persuasions belong to the True Catholic Apostolic Church, and will in the end be enlightened to know it; what do you think of that, ma belle? I fancy I see you look at me with your grave, innocent eyes, just as you used to; but you say nothing.
“I am far happier, ma Marie, than I ever thought I could be. I took your advice, and told my husband all I had felt and suffered. It was a very hard thing to do; but I felt how true it was, as you said, that there could be no real friendship without perfect truth at bottom; so I told him all, and he was very good and noble and helpful to me; and since then he has been so gentle and patient and thoughtful, that no mother could be kinder; and I should be a very bad woman, if I did not love him truly and dearly,—as I do.
“I must confess that there is still a weak, bleeding place in my heart that aches yet, but I try to bear it bravely; and when I am tempted to think myself very miserable, I remember how patiently you used to go about your house-work and spinning, in those sad days when you thought your heart was drowned in the sea; and I try to do like you. I have many duties to my servants and tenants, and mean to be a good châtelaine,4 and I find, when I nurse the sick and comfort the poor, that my sorrows are lighter. For, after all, Mary, I have lost nothing that ever was mine,—only my foolish heart has grown to something that is should not, and bleeds at being torn away. Nobody but Christ and His dear Mother can tell what this sorrow is; but they know, and that is enough.”
The next letter is dated some three years after.
“You see me now, my Marie, a proud and happy woman. I was truly envious, when you wrote me of the birth of your little son; but now the dear good God has sent a sweet little angel to me, to comfort my sorrows and lie close to my heart; and since he came, all pain is gone. Ah, if you could see him! he has black eyes and lashes like silk, and such little hands!—even his finger-nails are all perfect, like little gems; and when he puts his little hand on my bosom, I tremble with joy. Since he came, I pray always, and the good God seems very near to me. Now I realize, as I never did before, the sublime thought that God revealed Himself in the infant Jesus; and I bow before the manger of Bethlehem where the Holy Babe was laid. What comfort, what adorable condescension for us mothers in that scene!—My husband is so moved, he can scarce stay an hour from the cradle. He seems to look at me with a sort of awe, because I know how to care for this precious treasure that he adores without daring to touch. We are going to call him Henri, which is my husband’s name and that of his ancestors for many generations back. I vow for him an eternal friendship with the son of my little Marie; and I shall try and train him up to be a brave man and a true Christian. Ah, Marie, this gives me something to live for! My heart is full,—a whole new life opens before me!”
Somewhat later, another letter announces the birth of a daughter, —and later still, the birth of another son; but we shall only add one more, written some years after, on hearing of the great reverses of popular feeling towards Burr, subsequently to his duel with the ill-fated Hamilton.
“Ma chère Marie,—Your letter has filled me with grief. My noble Henri, who already begins to talk of himself as my protector, (these boys feel their manhood so soon, ma Marie!) saw by my face, when I read your letter, that something pained me, and he would not rest till I told him something about it. Ah, Marie, how thankful I then felt that I had nothing to blush for before my son! how thankful for those dear children whose little hands had healed all the morbid places of my heart, so that I could think of all the past without a pang! I told Henri that the letter brought bad news of an old friend, but that it pained me to speak of it; and you would have thought, by the grave and tender way he talked to his mamma, that the boy was an experienced man of forty, to say the least.
“But, Marie, how unjust is the world! how unjust both in praise and blame! Poor Burr was the petted child of society; yesterday she doted on him, flattered him, smiled on his faults, and let him do what he would without reproof; today she flouts and scorns and scoffs him, and refuses to see the least good in him. I know that man, Mary,—and I know, that, sinful as he may be before Infinite Purity, he is not so much more sinful than all the other men of his time. Have I not been in America? I know Jefferson; I knew poor Hamilton,5—peace be with the dead! Neither of them had a life that could bear the sort of trial to which Burr’s is subjected. When every secret fault, failing, and sin is dragged out, and held up without mercy, what man can stand?
“But I know what irritates the world is that proud, disdainful calm which will
neither give sigh nor tear. It was not that he killed poor Hamilton, but that he never seemed to care! Ah, there is that evil demon of his life,—that cold, stoical pride, which haunts him like a fate! But I know he does feel; I know he is not as hard at heart as he tries to be; I have seen too many real acts of pity to the unfortunate, of tenderness to the weak, of real love to his friends, to believe that. Great have been his sins against our sex, and God forbid that the mothers of children should speak lightly of them; but is not so susceptible a temperament, and so singular a power to charm as he possessed, to be taken into account in estimating his temptations? Because he is a sinning man, it does not follow that he is a demon. If any should have cause to think bitterly of him, I should. He trifled inexcusably with my deepest feelings; he caused me years of conflict and anguish, such as he little knows; I was almost shipwrecked; yet I will still say to the last that what I loved in him was a better self,—something really noble and good, however concealed and perverted by pride, ambition, and self-will. Though all the world reject him, I still have faith in this better nature, and prayers that he may be led right at last. There is at least one heart that will always intercede with God for him.”
It is well known, that, for many years after Burr’s death, the odium that covered his name was so great that no monument was erected, lest it should become a mark for popular violence. Subsequently, however, in a mysterious manner, a plain granite slab marked his grave; by whom erected has been never known. It was placed in the night by some friendly, unknown hand. A laborer in the vicinity, who first discovered it, found lying near the spot a small porte-monnaie, 6 which had perhaps been used in paying for the workmanship. It contained no papers that could throw any light on the subject, except the fragment of the address of a letter on which was written “Henri de Frontignac.”
THE END.
EXPLANATORY NOTES
CHAPTER I
1 FACULTY: As Stowe uses it, “Faculty” refers to an ability, natural or acquired, for a certain kind of action—here, domestic performance.
2 SAVOIR FAIRE: A French term, meaning a flair for knowing, or know-how.
3 BYRONIC: A term meant to evoke the dark, brooding heroes in the poetry of George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788-1824).
4 SUBLIME: A term of great significance from the late eighteenth century through the nineteenth century. Based on theories of Immanuel Kant (1724-1804) and Edmund Burke (1729-1797) in particular, the sublime meant awe-inspiring, fearsome, and God-like; examples might be the sheer cliffs of the Grand Canyon or the terrible power of a hurricane. The sublime was often contrasted with the beautiful, which was softer and more uniform. These notions of the sublime and the beautiful were often represented in the arts.
5 SLAVE-TRADE: The English colonies in North America began importing slaves in the mid-1600s, first from the Caribbean islands and then directly from Africa. Of at least 10 million slaves brought to the Americas, a minimum of 120,000 by 1740 and of 260,000 by 1775 was imported into what is now the United States. On the Middle Passage route between Africa, England, and the Americas, at least 10 to 20 percent of the slaves died during passage. America did not outlaw the slave trade until January 1808, and slavery itself was not abolished until the Emancipation Proclamation of 1863.
6 MISSIONARY INSTITUTION: In America, one of the great justifications for the slave trade was a religious argument. Proponents reasoned that they were bringing the slaves out of dark, heathen Africa into the light of God and the Gospels.
7 NATURALISTS: Naturalism was a philosophy especially popular in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Naturalists found God’s order revealed in the systems of nature; therefore, they collected and categorized plants and animals across the globe.
8 DR. HOPKINS: Samuel Hopkins (1721-1803), an eminent American theologian, and friend and disciple of Jonathan Edwards, whose System of Doctrines (1793) elaborated his concepts of sin and virtue. With another of Edwards’s disciples, Joseph Bellamy, Hopkins helped shape a variant of Calvinist theology, often called the New Divinity. Hopkins was an important figure for Stowe because his theological system, which stressed the importance of selflessness, laid the basis for Calvinist social reform and, most important, abolition of the slave trade.
9 PROFESSOR: One who affirms (“professes”) one’s faith in a particular system of belief.
10 DOCTRINAL, NOT RITUAL: A distinction between the Puritan religious view and those of Anglicans and Catholics, both of which were viewed as heresy. Doctrine refers to strict interpretations of biblical texts, without the pomp and circumstance (“ritual”) that, for Puritans, surrounded other religious practices.
11 MOTHER IN ISRAEL: The Puritans organized their world on the basis of the Bible, using the different biblical texts to interpret their own lives—a practice known as “typology.” To refer to Katy Scudder as a mother in Israel indicates her status in the Puritan community.
CHAPTER II
1 POPISH: A derogatory reference to Catholicism, signifying corruption and excess.
2 TON: French for good taste or the fashionable world.
3 ST. CATHERINE OF SIENA: Originally Caterina di Ricci (1522-1590), an Italian prioress of the Dominican order. She was known for her visions of the Passion and for her stigmata. This comparison suggests Mary’s deeply religious nature.
4 TREATISES ON THE WILL: Puritan theologians often debated the topic of human will; a religion predicated on predestination was greatly troubled by the notion that humans might have freedom to choose good or evil. Jonathan Edward’s treatise Freedom of the Will (1754) is probably the most famous of such documents. That Mary reads essays on the will indicates her intellectual and pious nature.
5 EDWARDS: Jonathan Edwards (1703-1758). American Calvinist clergyman and theologian, whose sermons on salvation precipitated the Great Awakening and whose writings on grace, religious affections, and the will placed him in the forefront of American theologians. He is best known today for his sermon “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God,” which was calculated to terrify auditors into readiness for God’s grace.
6 DANTE ... BEATRICE: Reference to The Divine Comedy, by Dante Alighieri (1265-1321).
7 THE SYSTEM OF DR. HOPKINS: Hopkins’s System of Doctrines Contained in Divine Revelation, Explained and Defended (1793). Hopkins’s systematic theology was often called Hopkinsianism.
8 REVOLUTION: The American Revolution, 1776-83.
9 SHADOW OF A THRONE: A reference to the English monarchy of George III.
10 ETERNAL COMMONWEALTH: Particularly significant is Hopkins’s application of political terms to religious concepts as he tries to reconcile his religious beliefs with the war. Similarly, his Puritan forebears saw their colonization of the New World in both religious and political terms, and he draws upon familiar concepts.
11 DIVINES: Theologians.
12 MILLENNIAL DAY: Puritans believed in the millenium, when Christ would return to earth to reign for a thousand years with the elect, or those predestined to salvation, at his side. The millennium preceded Judgment Day. See Revelation 20:1-7.
CHAPTER III
1 “THE SPECTATOR” ... “ROBINSON CRUSOE”: The Spectator was an eighteenth-century periodical published by Sir Richard Steele and Joseph Addison; Paradise Lost (1667) is an epic poem by John Milton; Robinson Crusoe (1719), by Daniel Defoe, was one of the first English novels.
2 “SIR CHARLES GRANDISON”: An epistolary novel (see next note) by Samuel Richardson, 1754.
3 EPISTOLARY STYLE: An epistle is a letter. Epistolary novels use letters as their basic structure; Henry Fieldings’s Sir Charles Grandison, seven volumes long, is perhaps the most famous epistolary novel in English literature. Stowe here is referring to the novel’s influence on letter-writing of the period.
4 “LIFE ... REWARD”: A hymn; lyrics by Isaac Watts (1674-1748).
5 NATURAL MAN: A natural man is an opposite of the spiritual man or the elected man; he lives by his passions and his animal drives, and he is not elected by Go
d for salvation.
6 MAHOMETANS: A reference to believers in the prophet Muhammad—i.e., Muslims.
7 “RADIANT ... NO MORE”: Canto 15, Don Juan, an epic poem in sixteen cantos by George Gordon, Lord Byron, published 1819-24.
8 “FEARED ... CLOUD”: Luke 9:34.
9 PREDESTINATION: Puritan doctrine holding that one was predestined to be saved or damned from birth and that nothing could change this outcome.
CHAPTER IV
1 “ONE-HOSS SHAY”: A one-horse chaise, or carriage.
2 SAMUEL AND TIMOTHY: Samuel was the first of the great Old Testament prophets, and Timothy was a contemporary of Saint Paul. Both men had been dedicated to God by their mothers.
3 MARTHA: The sister of Mary and Lazarus. See Luke 10:38-42 and John 11:1-44. In these verses, Martha welcomes Jesus to her home, but then complains that her sister Mary listens to him instead of helping her serve. Jesus admonishes Martha for being overly concerned with the material world, and praises Mary for choosing “the good portion”—that is, spirituality. In popular parlance, to call a woman a Mary or a Martha is to type her as spiritual or practical.
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