In July, as Monroe visited his wife’s family and dined with fellow Republicans in New York, he was confronted by Hamilton. He had sent Monroe a letter, demanding a formal statement that would clear the ex-treasury secretary of all charges of public corruption and speculation stemming from the Reynolds Affair. Why now? Because a Scottish journalist and hack writer, James Thomson Callender, known for his scathing political attacks, had just published a series of pamphlets that revealed the sordid details of the affair. Callender had reprinted many of the papers that Hamilton had given to Monroe, Pennsylvanian Frederick Muhlenberg, and Virginian Abraham Venable—the committee that investigated the charges in 1792. Hamilton blamed Monroe.
Hamilton arrived at Monroe’s lodgings in an agitated state. He abruptly accused Monroe of releasing the documents to Callender, which the Virginian quickly denied, confessing he had left the papers with a friend. Unable to contain his anger any longer, Hamilton retorted that Monroe’s statement was “totally false.” He had called Monroe a liar. Burr’s friend David Gelston observed the exchange, and he reported that Monroe rose from his seat, called Hamilton a “scoundrel,” and then challenged him to a duel, with the words, “I am ready get your pistols.” Gelston, along with Hamilton’s brother-in-law, the Englishman John Barker Church, intervened. They momentarily persuaded the two men to back off, and to forget their hasty remarks. Neither, however, was ready to forgive: the quick-tempered pair prolonged the affair of honor for five long months. Burr, as an old acquaintance of both, found himself at the center of the imbroglio, after Monroe asked him to serve as his intermediary.96
Hamilton had a habit of engaging in affairs of honor. Over the course of his lifetime, he was a “principal” in eleven affairs, which meant that he either challenged or received challenges from nearly a dozen different men between 1779 and 1804. In stark contrast, Burr never even came close to dueling until 1799, and he invoked the code duello with just two men: Hamilton and John Barker Church. Burr’s duel with Church was, not surprisingly, a family affair. Hamilton had triggered the incident by supplying his brother-in-law with the inflammatory gossip (concerning a land syndicate purportedly offering a bribe) that caused Burr to issue his challenge in the first place. During his duel with Church in the fall of 1799, Burr survived a near miss when a bullet passed through his coat after the first fire. For whatever reason, while preparing for the second round, Church apologized, abruptly ending the duel.97
The meaning of dueling itself was in flux. Hamilton and Burr handled their affairs quite differently. Hamilton’s brashness invited confrontation, whereas Burr went out of his way to avoid it. For Burr, a true gentleman resisted raw provocation. After the unproductive Church affair, he explained his policy to a concerned party (whose identity has been obscured in the historical record): “This, sir, is the first time in my life that I have condescended (pardon the expression) to refute calumny.” In eighteenth-century English, “to condescend” meant to depart from one’s habitual conduct; it did not ordinarily connote, as it does today, perceiving oneself as superior. Yet Burr’s “pardon the expression” also suggests his sensitivity to the emerging modern meaning of the word.98
He continued: “I leave to my actions to speak for themselves, and to my character to confound the fictions of slander. And on this very subject I have not up to this hour given one word of explanation to any human being.” This statement is quite remarkable. He was speaking to his preference for allowing his known good character to silently sustain him—there was no value for him in a violent encounter. Burr’s main point was that he did not, as a rule, push or prod or bombard his friends with self-defensive language. This is his outright rejection of Hamilton’s way.99
For Burr, dueling was never simply about honor. In his 1804 exchange of dueling letters with Hamilton, he would declare that “political opposition can never absolve gentlemen from the necessity of rigid adherence to the laws of honour, and the rules of decorum.” In the vocabulary of this age, “decorum” meant dignified conduct, or what Burr described as a serene and stoic graciousness—a style of behavior suited not only to the field of honor but all other social performances. Getting to the field of honor, firing one’s pistols, was only half as important as the manner in which a combatant treated his opponent. This was not Arthurian chivalry, but the Enlightenment value of heartfelt sincerity, a mark of educated sociability.100
Whether advising his daughter or his combustible friend James Monroe, Burr employed the same rules of decorum. To Theodosia, when she was just thirteen, he instructed: “Receive with calmness every reproof, whether made kindly or unkindly; whether just or unjust. Consider within yourself whether there has been no cause for it. If it has been groundless and unjust, nevertheless bear it with composure, and even with complacency.” Using similar logic not long after, Burr urged Monroe to follow the same course with Hamilton in 1797: “If you and Mulenburgh really believe, as I do, and think you must, that H. is innocent of the charge of any concern in speculation with Reynolds, It is my opinion that it will be an act of magnanimity & Justice to say so in a joint certificate.” This is a crucial commentary: despite Hamilton’s offensive attitude, Burr regarded Hamilton generously, refusing in the Reynolds Affair to take political advantage of him; this is something Hamilton would never do, something wholly impossible for one of Hamilton’s constitution. To this Burr added, for Monroe’s consideration: “Resentment is more dignified when Justice is rendered.”101
Celebrating reasonableness and generosity, Burr expressed an enlightened (arguably a literary) sensibility. For him, if honor was not backed by the ennobling quality of sincerity, then honor meant nothing at all. A gentleman had to be willing to admit publicly when he had wronged someone else. This was something Monroe and Hamilton alike refused to do. The same disregard for sincerity would mar Hamilton’s purposes and make it impossible for him to retract—before the public—his “despicable opinion” about Burr in 1804, when he resorted to equivocation instead of regretting his choice of words. “Having considered [your letter] attentively,” Burr would write Hamilton less than a month before they met at Weehawken, “I regret to find in it nothing of that sincerity and delicacy that you profess to value.”102
The key here is the word “public.” On two occasions prior to 1804, Hamilton had privately made amends with Burr after publicly insulting him. But he would not go beyond that. What is the good of a private apology if one is not willing to repeat it in public? Burr’s repeated acceptance of halfhearted apologies points to his tolerance and generosity toward Hamilton.103
All Burr asked for in the buildup to their famous duel was that Hamilton admit that his insulting language was that—insulting—and the two men could have carried on as before, resuming their public business. But Hamilton refused to make a public retreat. In that sense, as familiar as each had become over the years with the other’s methods, the seeds of tragedy were sown well before their final collision in their incompatible definitions of honor: what was for Burr the greatest embarrassment (letting insincerity stand) conflicted with what was for Hamilton the greatest embarrassment (acknowledging a misstep before the world).
The Hamilton-Monroe affair died a rather undignified death. From July 1797, when Hamilton appeared on Monroe’s doorstep, until December of that year, letters changed hands. Burr refused to deliver several of Monroe’s angry letters, trying to keep the rhetoric from escalating. By winter, Burr was appalled by what he described as the “childish” behavior of both men. Monroe’s biographer Harry Ammon admits that the affair took a “comic” turn when neither man would assume the role of aggressor, and instead pretended to be waiting for the official challenge from the other. This way, both convinced themselves they had not backed down; but it was a ruse, and everyone knew it.104
Even so, the odd affair took on a significance beyond the stubborn pride of two men angling to preserve reputation. Monroe saw fit to drag all his friends into the dispute, making a private q
uarrel into a partisan battle. In August 1797, Hamilton published a tortured explanation for his amorous adventure with Maria Reynolds back in 1792. Monroe begged Madison to carefully examine Hamilton’s 95-page “defense pamphlet” and make sure there was nothing insulting about him in it. Madison did so, though he had grown weary of Monroe’s controversy with Hamilton. In November, Jefferson and Madison organized a meeting of Republicans in Philadelphia to discuss what could be done. They consulted Burr, who concurred with the party consensus that the Hamilton-Monroe affair should end as quickly and quietly as possible.105
The two men never dueled. Hamilton, however, had made his situation worse by writing his pamphlet. He unleashed a barrage of principled words attempting to portray James Reynolds (Maria’s blackmailing husband) as a rogue, while he described himself as the righteous defender of the nation. It all fell on deaf ears. Admitting to his adulterous relationship with Maria Reynolds in an effort to defend himself against what he felt was the more serious charge of public (financial) misconduct, Hamilton misjudged his audience. The Reynolds pamphlet, Madison concluded, was a work of “ingenious folly”; as he saw it, Hamilton did not understand that “simplicity and candor are the only dress that prudence would put on innocence.” He meant that Hamilton’s characteristic imprudence had done him in.106
Sleight of hand was a poor tactic. In believing he could verbally outmaneuver his critics, and by treating his adultery as a lesser crime than an illegal speculation scheme, Hamilton failed to portray himself as an innocent man. Instead, he appeared arrogant and unrepentant. He saw himself as the victim in a nefarious plot, in which Maria Reynolds, at the behest of her husband, had seduced him. Using the literary conventions of the day (while reversing the gender roles), Hamilton likened himself to the English novelist Samuel Richardson’s pitied heroine, the poor, innocent, seduced Clarissa, protesting in the same breath that he was not the randy and rakish Lovelace.107
The newspapers had a field day with his pamphlet. Republican journalists chastised Hamilton for assuming that his private indiscretion had no bearing on his public character. As one female poet cleverly reminded her readers, “only fools do kiss and tell.” Hamilton had made a phenomenal blunder: trying to sell himself as a man of candor only served to open him up to further criticism and ridicule. For most observers who read the pamphlet, the once imperial secretary of the treasury had no clothes. One member of Hamilton’s New York crowd did not hold back when he said, almost with a leer, that the pamphleteer was aiming “to creep under Mrs. R’s petticoats. A pretty hiding place for a national leader!” Even Hamilton’s most devoted admirer, Robert Troup, acknowledged that the “ill-judged pamphlet has done him incomparable injury.”108
“WAS ARNOLD A FOREIGNER . . . ?”
The Hamilton-Monroe episode was not the only time that Burr found himself involved in Hamilton’s concerns. In 1798–99, the two erstwhile adversaries worked side by side to improve New York City’s defenses, as the United States edged closer to a full-scale war with France. In spite of a Federalist-generated war frenzy, however, no real fighting occurred. The anomalous Franco-American conflict of the Adams years ultimately amounted to the seizure of a few ships, but consisted mainly of angry editorials and diplomatic posturing. It is known to history as the “Quasi-War.” Although Burr was a Republican, and a Francophile, he believed in shoring up American military defenses against any possible foreign threat. Of course, that does not tell the whole story: at this especially tense moment in American politics, Burr vigorously opposed other administration measures that were put in place to keep French influence out.
The hysteria commenced in June 1798, as Americans learned that three special envoys sent by the president to Paris had been rudely mistreated by their hosts. In the “XYZ Affair,” the French Directory’s minister of foreign relations, Charles-Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord, informed the U.S. envoys that they needed to pay a bribe before enjoying an audience with the new Revolutionary leadership. For Federalists, this was evidence enough that the French government was corrupt. Like the Reynolds Affair, the XYZ Affair quickly acquired a tabloid quality. One of Talleyrand’s agents, Madame de Villette, the niece, adopted daughter, and mistress of Voltaire, was rumored to have tried to seduce the youngest member of the diplomatic team, the future chief justice of the Supreme Court, John Marshall.109
President Adams called George Washington out of retirement to serve as commander in chief of the armed forces in preparation for war with France. Washington promptly named Hamilton his inspector general, and second-in-command, at the rank of major general. The nomination sparked controversy, not the least of which was due to Hamilton’s elevation over his wartime superior, Brigadier General Henry Knox. Insulted, Knox (lately Washington’s secretary of war) refused to serve. Hamilton’s allies had already spread rumors about Knox’s “pecuniary affairs,” using the same brand of defamatory gossip that the Federalist side had circulated about Burr during the 1796 presidential race. Although Adams preferred Knox, and had been distrustful of Hamilton ever since the New Yorker had betrayed him in the presidential election, the president finally conceded to his predecessor’s wishes, and supported Hamilton’s appointment.110
In June, Burr was named to a “Military Committee,” serving with Hamilton and Ebenezer Stevens, a War Department agent in charge of New York’s fortifications. Acting as liaison with the state assembly, Burr collected facts and figures from Stevens in order to convince the legislature of the need to rebuild harbor defenses. Burr was in his element, working on a project that drew upon the skills of surveying and strategic planning that he had used during his days as a Revolutionary officer. He mobilized a fragile coalition that reached agreement on a bill worth over $1 million, a massive appropriation for its time. But his success was short-lived: the assembly reconvened and whittled down the amount to $200,000, before the senate entered the picture and reduced it once again, until it was only worth $150,000. The city would get new fortifications, but hardly on the scale envisioned by Burr and his unlikely ally Hamilton.111
Whether impressed by Burr’s commitment or competence, the new inspector general suddenly viewed his former foe in a different light. In June 1798, Hamilton wrote a remarkable letter to Secretary of the Treasury Oliver Wolcott, entreating his Federalist allies to support Burr: “Col. Burr sets out today for Philadelphia. I have some reasons for wishing that the administration may manifest a cordiality to him. It is not impossible he will be found a useful cooperator. I am aware there are different sides but the case is worth an experiment.” Hamilton’s “I have some reasons” leaves us wondering. Rumors circulated among Adams’s cabinet that Burr was being considered for the position of U.S. quartermaster general, in which case he would be responsible for the finances and supplies of the new national army. It was a most unlikely moment in the young republic’s political development for Hamilton to be lending his support to Burr’s appointment. Nothing would seem more improbable after years of attacking Burr as a “dangerous man” incapable of managing his own finances; yet Hamilton may have been prepared to elevate his enemy to a post of tremendous power.112
What explains this change of heart? Hamilton must have believed that Burr saw eye-to-eye with him on military matters. He had already recommended Burr to Governor John Jay as the most “competent character” to serve as superintendent of the newly fortified port in New York City. Hamilton’s ability to switch gears reconfirms a simple fact: his vicious criticism of Burr was motivated by simple politics—his fear of Burr as an opposition leader—and not by distaste for Burr’s personal character.113
Hamilton’s indirect method of advancing Burr is equally revealing. He did not discuss the matter with Washington. Instead, he worked behind the scenes through his loyal followers in Adams’s cabinet. Washington did not hear of Burr’s possible appointment until President Adams presented the idea to him.
Many years later, Adams recalled having suggested Burr for the position of br
igadier general. Washington’s response was damning: “By all that I have known and heard, Colonel Burr is a brave and able officer; but the question is, whether he has not equal talents at intrigue?” The first president’s remarks, if we can trust the second president’s memory, echo Hamilton’s long-standing criticism of Burr. Doubtless Washington did not arrive at this view on his own. During the volatile second term of his presidency, Washington had absorbed his treasury secretary’s recurrent insinuations that Burr was an “intriguer”—and so he formed the opinion Adams recounted. For Hamilton to tell Washington otherwise in 1798 would have been an admission that he had earlier overreacted when he repeatedly bad-mouthed Burr. And so Hamilton resolved he would promote Burr behind Washington’s back.114
Nevertheless, Burr’s cordial interlude with Hamilton did not last long. His generalship evaporated, perhaps because he continued to confound the Federalists. Surveying his activities over the past few months, Robert Troup observed that Burr had been “zealous” in promoting measures for defense of the harbor, and “particularly courteous to Hamilton” in the hope of gaining an appointment in the army. And yet, Troup found it baffling that “before the appointment of General Officers took place, and in the midst of conciliatory appearance,” Burr openly opposed the administration. He raised bail for the notorious John Burk, a young Irish émigré and New York printer arrested, in Troup’s words, “for a most infamous libel on the President.”115
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