Yet men were just as willing as women to ostracize other men for unrefined and ill-tempered displays. Burr also confessed to Ogden that he was glad to hear of another man’s downfall—one of those “narrow-hearted scoundrels,” who will “pass through life respected by many.” He disliked men who conveyed a pleasing deportment, but who concealed “malice” in their hearts. Here is Burr dismissing everything Lord Chesterfield stood for—everything he would later be accused of mastering in his social conduct.16
Burr did enjoy a little intrigue in his social life. He told Ogden that he had taken on the role of matchmaker. Like the romanticized story of Cyrano de Bergerac, Burr was secretly crafting love letters for a friend, who was “very little versed in letter-writing.” He confessed that he had “now and then an affair of petty gallantry,” but the details were too “insipid” to share. Though interested in romance, Burr was hardly living in the fast lane in Litchfield.17
A particularly tempting flirtation is revealed, once again through his cousin Thaddeus. In May 1775, Burr visited Thaddeus in Fairfield, and was there introduced to Dorothy Quincy. She was, at this time, the fiancée of John Hancock, and the couple would later be wed in Thaddeus Burr’s mansion. While Dolly, as she was known, was a “catch,” entertaining many eligible male callers at her home in Boston, she probably caught Burr’s eye for another reason: she was nine years his senior. Dolly claimed that the attraction was mutual. His busybody cousin Thaddeus felt certain that, if Hancock was out of the way, Dolly would not wait a day to chase after Burr.18
Burr, then, was not a Chesterfieldian cad and flatterer, who indulged women’s pride in order to seduce them. The Earl of Chesterfield’s Letters to his Son, a popular guide to manners, advanced the idea that a man could nurture disdain or malice, but he must never reveal his disregard for a woman’s feelings. Such rakish behavior does not comport with Burr’s presentation to his friends, nor is it reflected in their perceptions of him. In Burr’s actual social circle, if he had been seducing young women with abandon, as later claimed, he surely would have found himself forced to the altar (as Dod was), or, at the very least, he would have been rebuked for his behavior. But he never was.19
Burr was thinking and writing about sex in the same way as his peers thought and wrote. Young Burr could not have escaped the prying eyes of Mrs. Bellamy, or his cousin Thaddeus Burr, or his sister Sally, or her husband Tapping Reeve. And at this early stage, Burr cared deeply about what people were saying about him. He was still Reverend Burr’s son.
THE “MISTRESS OF YOUR AFFECTIONS”
By July 1775, as he and Ogden headed north for the encampment in Cambridge, Burr was, probably for the first time, beyond the watchful eyes of his elders. Thrust into the ad hoc community of soldiers, officers, women, and wagoners who made up a military camp, he assured his sister that she had nothing to fear from his new life style. Bullets, he joked, were infinitely less dangerous than the “darts shot from the eyes of regiments of female angels” that had surrounded him at home.20
War would replace romance—or would it? Amid the divided loyalties of war, Aaron Burr found love across enemy lines. When he met his future wife, Theodosia Prevost, she was not only married but the wife of a British officer. Lieutenant Colonel James Marcus Prevost served in the southern campaigns and in the West Indies, dying from yellow fever in Jamaica in the fall of 1781.21
The Revolution created a unique social as well as sexual landscape. Regulating sexual behavior became a regular part of the business of the Continental Army, and officers judged each other, in part, based on their sexual conduct. Burr may have left communal standards of morality behind, but the army enforced its own rules for officers and gentlemen. Expectations of politeness became a crucial feature of the symbolic battle between the American and English armies: the chivalrous treatment of ladies was one means of measuring which army was the more civilized, and thus more deserving of public support.
Burr’s relationship with Theodosia must be examined in this odd cultural contest of civility. Theodosia herself was in no simple position: she had to navigate carefully between two worlds. Though married to a loyal British officer, she was a closet patriot; she forged strong alliances with George Washington himself, as well as other prominent officials in Revolutionary New Jersey. Governor William Livingston and Attorney General William Paterson ranked among her friends and supporters. Theodosia combined a unique blend of female heroism and social grace; executing skills of politeness was absolutely essential to her political survival. It was, undoubtedly, her political and social acumen that first caused Burr to admire her, and provided the basis for a deeper affection.
Burr’s war was a series of contrasts. Refined circumstances might be followed by sordid ones—all were part of his daily routine. During the march to Quebec in 1775, he enjoyed the hospitality of polite society in the Maine wilderness when an obliging family gave him a feather bed and a warm meal. Not long after, during his prolonged encampment outside the Canadian city, he described himself as “dirty” and “ragged.” This was merely preparation for Valley Forge, where soldiers drank to excess, cursed, and whored.22
Throughout the war, camp life was mean and dirty. Noxious smells filled the air; open latrines, poor hygiene, and crude quarters fed masculine vices, which officers were meant to temper. But officers did not always set the best example. A typical incident Burr recorded in his orderly book in 1778 told of one who was rumored to have had tea in his tent with his “whore” and her mother. This charade—a strumpet pretending to be a lady—offended enough other officers to elicit a court-martial.23
Though conditions at camp were often disagreeable, Burr quickly learned that one of the privileges granted to officers was the pleasure of polite female companionship. Washington had a lively inner circle at Valley Forge. Martha Washington, described by a French officer as a “Roman matron,” gathered around her an intimate group of generals, their wives, and occasionally a distinguished belle or two. Holding dinners, dances, and teas, the ladies entertained select junior officers. Lord Stirling and his family were particularly known for their conviviality. Burr attended many of their gatherings at Valley Forge, and drolly remarked that the primary duty of James Monroe, Stirling’s aide-de-camp, was to “fill his lordship’s tankard.”24
At more elaborate celebrations, the presence of ladies had a decidedly political purpose. When France recognized the independence of the United States in 1778, Washington selected May 6 for a feu de joie, a day of national rejoicing. Cannons roared, and muskets fired off rounds, as the commander in chief reviewed the troops. Colonel Burr was there, and marched off, arm-in-arm, with his fellow officers to a sumptuous buffet, joined by a group of fawning females. Less than three weeks later and just forty miles away in Philadelphia, the British rivaled the Americans by hosting a Mischianza. This was a grandiose affair, capped by an extravagant masquerade, in which British officers competed for the hand of one fair lady in a mock medieval tournament.25
Such public spectacles as these reflected the common belief among gentlemen that women’s loyalty was measured by their affections, and that conquering the hearts of women ensured popular support more generally and foretold victory in war. It is essential to bear in mind that the Revolution was a civil war: there were deep pockets of pro-British sentiment in every state, city, and hamlet, and by winning the favor of the fairer sex, the smartly attired redcoats stood to sway public opinion as they demoralized the rebels.
Civilized warfare demanded that ladies—even Tory ladies—receive a show of respect, but this was not always the case. After states passed legislation authorizing confiscation of the property of known Loyalists, women and children were thrown out of their homes. The artist Charles Willson Peale, head of the Confiscation Committee in Philadelphia, literally dragged the wife of Joseph Galloway from her doorway, telling her bluntly that “it was not the first time he had taken a Lady by the hand.”26
But the issu
e went even deeper. Loyalist women were caught in an impossible situation: their husbands, not they, owned their property, so that their voices, in a legal sense, did not matter. Indecision, or neutrality, was not permitted them. With the call to independence, all Americans were forced to choose sides—and yet, could wives oppose their husbands? Could they freely make a choice? When Burr first heard of the new confiscation policy in early 1776, he heartily endorsed the idea. But by the time he had met Theodosia Prevost, his opinion had already changed. He understood the difficulties she faced.27
It was within this combustible political climate that Aaron Burr and Theodosia Prevost grew to appreciate one another and eventually settled on marriage. She had achieved what few other women could, garnering the support of prominent patriots (military and civilian alike), knowing she was supportive of their cause, while convincing her husband and the British military that she remained a devoted wife of a British officer. Theodosia was adept at keeping up appearances, and keeping her family together; while raising her five children and maintaining connections with a large extended family, she entered into an unfeigned friendship with Aaron Burr that led to a secret romance. To be sure, this was no easy road for a woman in her situation to take. Theodosia’s delicate and daring balancing act signals a complicated and fascinating woman.
It is difficult to put a precise date on the first meeting between Burr and his future wife, though he may have appeared at the Hermitage, in Bergen County, New Jersey, as early as September 1777. The introduction may have been made by her cousin John Watkins, who served in Burr’s regiment. By the following summer, Burr was certainly a regular visitor. Her husband was off fighting in the southern colonies, while Theodosia and her mother ran the household.28
Burr would have been drawn to the Hermitage for the same reason other officers flocked there—it offered a taste of polite society. The property encompassed 98 acres, supporting two elegant homes, each of which enjoyed a constant flow of guests, and made it the perfect location for Washington’s headquarters in July 1778, just after the fierce but ultimately indecisive Battle of Monmouth. Theodosia had presented the general with a gracious invitation that he found impossible to refuse. Theodosia’s home, named after Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s famous cottage, was a pastoral retreat. During his stay there, James McHenry, one of Washington’s aide-de-camps, described the delightful company of “fair refugees” from British-held New York. McHenry claimed that he completely forgot the war, spending his days talking, walking, dancing, and laughing with Theodosia’s relatives.29
It may seem odd that Washington would put his headquarters on the property of a Loyalist family. But Theodosia, for one, was not unsympathetic to Washington’s aims. In addition, conditions under which armies and civilians coexisted—indeed, the very rules of warfare during the American Revolution—were different from modern times. Among elites a code of honor made it possible for those on opposite sides to interact with a kind of civility that would be impossible in today’s political world. When General Charles Lee was captured by the British, for example, he was treated as a gentleman, despite being a prisoner of war, and was allowed to move freely around New York City, which was then under British occupation. Theodosia clearly adhered to the same code when she opened her home to Washington and his military family.30
At the Hermitage, Rousseau’s influence could also be felt in the atmosphere. Theodosia’s manner was decidedly French: she spoke the language fluently, while cultivating the smart conversational style that distinguished the French salons. She composed entertaining letters to Burr in French, and later, because her French was superior to his, translated political treatises for him. Her stepfather, Philip De Visme, and her husband’s family, the Prevosts (pronounced “PRE-vo,” more or less in the French manner), were Swiss émigrés. Tutored at home, she had been exposed to a cosmopolitan education that was unusual among colonial Americans.31
We receive a rare glimpse of her talents in an anecdote from this period, the source of which is probably Burr himself. One evening, after a boorish guest had unknowingly slighted the hostess, she decided to seek revenge. In a matter of moments, she dashed off a poem mocking the man, and passed it around the room, prompting general laughter. This display of mental agility suggests that she was a practitioner of the competitive game crambo, a test in which visitors to the European salons were obliged to perform spontaneous poetry writing—crambo was the height of fashion and a determinant of a person’s verbal skill. Theodosia’s impromptu wit eclipsed many of lesser talents.32
But Theodosia was an appealing companion in the midst of war for another important reason: she intimately understood how British and American military officers looked at the world. As a child and as a young woman, the British military community in New York City had been her primary social circle. Her stepfather was a captain in the Royal American Regiment, as was her husband when she first met him, and two of her aunts married military officers. That she wed Captain Prevost at the tender age of seventeen was not at all surprising for a young woman with her family background.33
Steeped in military tradition and custom, Theodosia moved easily within male military culture. She naturally made an impact on an older, more reserved commander like Washington, and seemed not to miss a step when endeavoring to please impressionable young men like Burr and McHenry. James Monroe, another of her youthful admirers, best conveyed why so many Continental officers had become enamored with this wife of a British officer. In a revealing letter he wrote to Theodosia, Monroe praised her “fortitude under distress” and “gaiety in the midst of affliction,” despite the long separation from her husband. In Monroe’s eyes, she was Odysseus’ long-suffering wife Penelope. With his wartime sense of chivalry, Monroe could romantically imagine her as a chaste republican matron—better than to see her as a Loyalist woman married to the enemy.34
But her skill in dealing with officers was not limited to the Continentals. Theodosia also cultivated a congenial arrangement with the British officers who passed through her neighborhood. Their torches never touched her home. They even extended the military courtesy of allowing an American prisoner of war, a relative of hers, to be placed on parole in her household. Her home was a kind of war-free zone and sanctuary. Several times during the fighting, as the British army threatened, the families of Governor William Livingston and Lord Stirling wisely sought shelter at the Hermitage.35
Theodosia attracted a powerful circle of male patrons. And within this circle of prominent Whigs, she presented herself as a patriot. Governor Livingston and Robert Morris, a member of the Supreme Court of New Jersey, were some of her closest allies. Robert Troup, another young officer turned civil servant, and a friend of Morris, described her in the most glowing terms. “During the whole of the war,” Troup wrote to a fellow officer, “she has conducted herself in such a manner as proves her to possess an excellent understanding as well as a strong attachment to our righteous cause.” Like Monroe, he saw her as a lady in distress, but underscored her fidelity to the movement for independence. Troup gleaned his opinion from the “most respectable Whigs in the State.” Theodosia could hardly have asked for a better recommendation. An unabashed patriot, she had to be rather shrewd to thrive in this highly volatile environment.36
As Burr became a part of Theodosia’s political orbit, he became her patron, and she, in turn, became his. It all began in August 1778, when the colonel was assigned as military escort for three prominent Loyalists: William Smith, Cadwallader Colden, and Roeliff Eltinge. These men had all been members of the provincial government of prewar New York and were prisoners of war. For reasons unknown, Theodosia and her sister Catherine De Visme accompanied this party on a five-day journey from New Jersey to Fishkill, above West Point, and down the Hudson River to British-held New York City. Since Burr received the assignment only a month after General Washington had visited the Hermitage, it appears likely that Theodosia’s good word probably swayed the commander to choose Bu
rr for the job.37
Adding women to the escort was probably more than an afterthought. Theodosia and her female relatives had proven that they could be extremely helpful in gathering intelligence in the British-occupied city. One tantalizing piece of news they shared with the American commander was that an elegant gift sent to Martha Washington by the queen of France had been seized by the British. Behind enemy lines, small talk itself was a form of espionage. As witty traveling companions, Theodosia and her sister stood to uncover secrets from unsuspecting Loyalists.38
Perhaps the most crucial assistance Burr offered was in helping Theodosia protect her estate. As early as 1777, she was laboring on her own behalf, penning appeals to prominent officials. She sent petitions to the New Jersey Assembly, and enlisted the aid of Governor Livingston. Because of Burr, Attorney General William Paterson was in her corner. “Her situation demands a tear,” Paterson warmly confessed to his friend. He kept Burr informed of his efforts, using his considerable clout and sharp legal mind to find a solution. He had already worked miracles for his wife’s Loyalist brother, finding a loophole to save his personal property.39
Paterson was no different from Theodosia’s other patrons. Though an avid Whig and strong-minded attorney general who insisted on enforcing the letter of the law, he still made occasional exceptions for friends and relatives. Patronage and persistence (such as Burr’s letters) ultimately yielded results: prior to 1782, confiscation proceedings were undertaken against Theodosia’s property until, all of a sudden, the prosecution of her case ceased—powerful friends had finally succeeded in making her case disappear. With the governor, attorney general, and Supreme Court Justice Robert Morris all on her side, she found a way to subvert the legal process from within.40
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