Fallen Founder

by Nancy Isenberg

  “HE DESERVES ANY THING AND EVERY THING OF HIS COUNTRY”

  At this time in American history, presidential races were most often decided in state legislatures—where the power to name electors resided. The federal Constitution intended that presidents should only be indirectly elected by the people. In contrast to 1800, the popular vote today directly determines each state’s electoral vote, without having state legislators as middlemen.

  In most discussions of the election of 1800, Burr often appears to have shown up suddenly, at just the right moment, to put together an unbeatable slate of candidates for the state assembly who, in turn, decided who among the party faithful would serve as presidential electors. We know now that he did not show up suddenly, but rose to a leadership position as an activist assemblyman to whom his Republican colleagues listened to on a host of legislative matters. What Burr did in 1800 was no minor feat, of course. By helping to change the composition of the New York State Assembly, he in effect secured the electors of the president: with Burr’s helping hand, New York’s 12 electoral votes ultimately put Jefferson ahead of Adams.

  At first, nothing was at all certain. The tide began to turn for the Republicans at the end of April 1800; this was really when the presidential campaign entered high gear, when New York held state elections, the results of which would determine the composition of the slate of presidential electors for the national contest that autumn. The state legislature chose its electors by a simple majority: the state would put together either an all Federalist or all Republican slate. Burr had spent the entire year leading up to this preparing for the April election, learning from past mistakes and perfecting a system of party management.

  He understood that everything boiled down to his being able to secure the greatest number possible of Manhattan assemblymen. These thirteen individuals would hold the balance of power—that was Burr’s calculation, as he reported it directly to Jefferson. If Republicans regained control of the city delegation, they would be a majority in the lower house; the Federalists already maintained a slight margin in the state senate. But it was the combined vote of both houses that counted in determining the makeup of the slate of electors in November. It was winner take all.59

  Long before the polls opened in April, Burr had developed a “system,” adapted from his military experience. While patrolling the “Neutral Ground” in Westchester County in 1779, he had carefully classified residents into the categories of Tory or Patriot; he now dispatched his staff to collect data, and profiled the city’s voters in terms of partisan allegiance. He knew which Republicans would contribute money, who would volunteer their time at the polls, and who could only be counted on to vote. What is now standard practice—basing campaign decisions on voter behavior—at this time in American history startled the Federalists, unaccustomed to such ingenuity. As the Federalist Commercial Advertiser lamented later, Republicans had “discriminated throughout this city, between their partisans, and those opposed to them, and they soon knew to a man the name of every doubtful character.”60

  In January 1800, as the lead tactician behind the effort, Burr had made a “flying trip” to Philadelphia to discuss his plans with Jefferson. Though we do not know precisely how impressed the Virginian was with Burr’s maneuvering, Jefferson certainly understood, as he related to James Monroe, that “all depended on the city election.” Success in New York became even more critical in March, when the Pennsylvania legislature appeared unable to agree on a method for choosing electors. This was dire news, for Jefferson had won 14 of that state’s 15 electoral votes in the 1796 presidential contest, and it now appeared that the Keystone State might not even participate in the national election. New York remained the Republicans’ best hope in the North. It was increasingly clear that Jefferson could not win without Burr’s help.61

  Burr next concentrated on organizing his party more efficiently. Each city ward had a Republican committee, which sent a representative to the General Republican Committee. Burr controlled the key subcommittee of the General Committee, which chose the city ticket. On this select committee he put his closest allies: David Gelston; John Swartwout; and an ambitious, twenty-seven-year-old Republican printer named Matthew Livingston Davis—his future biographer. Davis had first met Burr a couple of years before while working at Philip Freneau’s radical newspaper, The Time Piece; in 1800, he fashioned himself as Burr’s “lieutenant.”62

  Burr put together an unbeatable slate. It included men with sturdy national reputations. Former Governor George Clinton topped the list, along with the hero of Saratoga, General Horatio Gates. As both men were reluctant candidates, Burr needed his full talent to persuade them to run. In his seventies, Gates had never held any civil office. But he lent gravitas to the Republicans, as a symbol of Revolutionary glory. His stunning capture of the British army had made Gates Washington’s only serious rival. Burr added two other “Republican veterans,” so-called, to his slate: Colonel Henry Rutgers, and another war hero, John Broome. This ticket of “venerable patriots” attracted notice. As the Philadelphia Aurora proudly claimed, a heroic band of patriots had risen again to battle the “abandoned policy instigated by Hamilton.”63

  Burr saw that the ticket was rounded out with prominent merchants, mechanics, and trusted ex-assemblymen who had recently served with him in the lower house. At the same time, he sought to smooth over factional jealousies and traditional rivalries. Three of his candidates were Manhattan Company directors, including his co-counsel in the Levi Weeks case, Brockholst Livingston. Burr also made sure that all three Republican factions—Clintonians, Livingstons, and Burrites—were on the ticket. Though Burr himself was not on the ticket, his influence—and his recently established bank—were omnipresent.64

  Stagecraft complemented his meticulous planning. He delayed announcing his ticket until the Federalists had first revealed their hand. According to Burr’s lieutenant, Matthew Livingston Davis, the unimpressive opposition included a ship chandler, a baker, a bookseller, a shoemaker, two grocers, and a bankrupt. Assistant Attorney General Cadwalader David Colden, who had failed to win conviction in the Weeks trial, also made the list; but even he had little chance against the elder statesmen on the Republican ticket. The Federalists had shown too little zeal and rather hasty planning. Their troubles mounted, and as the weakening party argued, its squabbles spilled over into the press. To the delight of the rising Republicans in New York, a frustrated Hamilton angrily stormed out of one of their meetings. Federalist tempers were still flaring, as they formally announced their ticket.65

  That same night, April 15, Republicans held their own “private Meeting” at the home of Brockholst Livingston, and a larger public meeting took place two days later. That is when and where Burr’s subcommittee presented its list of candidates, which gained unanimous support. Davis reported that “joy & Enthusiasm” filled the room, as they anticipated doing battle with the Federalist slate. Burr had mobilized his troops, and had put together a winning ticket.66

  But Burr’s campaign efforts did not stop there. In the months leading up the election, he turned his Manhattan home into a command center. One New York merchant recorded in his diary at length that Burr “kept open house for nearly two months, and Committees were in session day and night during the whole time at his house. Refreshments were always on the table, and mattresses were set up for temporary repose in the rooms. Reports were hourly received from sub-committees—in short, no means left unemployed.”

  Burr had no intention of remaining in the background. As Matthew Livingston Davis reported to Albert Gallatin in late March, Burr had “pledged himself to come forward, and address the people in a firm & manly language on the importance of the election.” Davis was aware that this kind of campaigning was new, and that Burr had “never done this at any former election.” Thus, when the polls finally opened on April 29, Burr stationed himself as a sentinel outside the polling place for the critical Seventh Ward, “Ten Hours, with
out intermission.”67

  Burr was so certain that his disciplined management of the process had resulted in a “highly honorable” victory that he wrote to Jefferson: electoral success had occurred with “no indecency, no unfairness, no personal abuse.” His associates, however, preferred to view the contest as a glorious battle between two great generals, Hamilton and Burr—a battle of wits and will. As Davis contended, using the loaded word “intrigue” to mean “tactical brilliance,” the Republican campaign was “headed by a man whose intrigue and management is most astonishing, and who is more dreaded by his enemies than any other character in our cause.” Both Burr and Hamilton felt completely at ease on the public stage, inspiring loyalty from those around them by engaging in political theatrics. For his part, mounted on his white steed, Hamilton rode from ward to ward, a general (which he was) surveying his troops in the heat of political battle. Burr, fashioning himself after Montgomery at Quebec, rushed forward at the head of his forces, speaking in a “manly language,” never accepting defeat. Those closest to Burr at this critical moment characterized his leadership style as “astonishing.”68

  James Nicholson wrote to his son-in-law Albert Gallatin several days after the election results became known: “I shall conclude by recommending [Burr] as a General far Superior to your Hamiltons, as much so, as a Man is to a Boy. . . .” The contest appeared in many ways—and this is important to understand—as a quest for manly glory. Party men enlisted in a boasting match, defending their generals while tossing off insults and broadly taunting. The New York campaign of 1800 was a replay of Revolution-era military zeal fueled by a fascination with masculine prowess.69

  In the end, the Republicans carried all thirteen assembly seats. New York’s Federalists were stunned. On May 3, they called a meeting, and the defeated partisans openly contemplated a coup. They wished to empower Governor John Jay to choose the electors of president and vice president. Aware that, in doing so, they might provoke a civil war, those in attendance still agreed that war would be “preferable to having Jefferson for President.”70

  Hamilton, amazingly, endorsed this idea. On May 7, he dashed off a highly revealing letter, urging Jay to convene a lame duck special session of the legislature immediately. This way, Federalists could institute a new procedure for naming electors, taking the choice out of the hands of the newly elected assembly. “It will not do to be overscrupulous . . . by a strict adherence to ordinary laws,” Hamilton prodded the governor. Drastic action could be justified, he said, as a matter of “public safety.” Jefferson’s prospective election was, in Hamilton’s mind (at least at this time), a national crisis that demanded a determined response: “Scruples of delicacy and propriety . . . ought not to hinder the taking of a legal and constitutional step, to prevent an Atheist in Religion and a Fanatic in politics from getting possession of the State.” There was nothing “legal” or “constitutional” in what he was asking. In spite of his phraseology, Hamilton was authorizing a subversion of the political process.71

  What could be clearer? Defeat loomed on the horizon, and Hamilton could not accept it. He did not care to imagine a peaceful transition of government. Burr’s slate had won fairly; corruption had not tainted the election. But now, Hamilton was prepared to set a dangerous precedent by sacrificing the constitutional integrity of the election process. He failed to grasp the irony of the situation, having, in the words of one biographer, “never tired of accusing Burr of political chicanery and loose ethics.” Jay, at least, understood the full implication of Hamilton’s request, and noted to himself at the bottom of the letter: “Proposing a measure for party purposes which I think it would not become me to adopt.” Jay refused to endorse Hamilton’s proposal.72

  The Republicans were to meet in Philadelphia on May 11 and decide on a national ticket. Of course, Jefferson would be their nominee. The highly respected congressman Albert Gallatin was asked to come up with an ideal running mate. It would have to be a New Yorker, for regional balance. The “serious question,” as Gallatin put it to his politically astute wife, was: “Who is to be our Vice President—Clinton or Burr?” Matthew Livingston Davis already had urged Gallatin to favor Burr, for he was the most “eligible character,” and more attractive to New York Republicans than either Chancellor Livingston or former Governor Clinton. While it was true that Burr had done all of the essential work to reconfigure the state assembly, Clinton could not be so easily dismissed, for he still had clout with southerners. Gallatin, in turn, deferred to his father-in-law, James Nicholson, asking him to talk to both men and decide which of them should be Jefferson’s running mate.73

  By now, Nicholson was already singing Burr’s praises. He claimed that Burr’s victory at the polls was nothing short of “miraculous,” and imagined that the favorable result was owing to the “intervention of Supreme Power.” On May 6, he wrote to Gallatin exuberantly that Burr’s “generalship, perseverance, industry, & execution, exceeds all description, so that I think I can say he deserves any thing and every thing of his country.” Gallatin had to have had some idea in advance that his father-in-law would ultimately go with Burr. When Nicholson finally reported back, he spelled out what had happened: “Geo. Clinton with whom I just spoke declined—His age, his infirmities & his habits & Attachment to retired Life in his opinion has exempted him from an active life. As Geo. Clinton thinks Col. Burr is the most Suitable person & perhaps the only Man. Such is also the opinion of all the Republicans in this quarter that I have conversed with, this confidence in AB is universal & unbounded.” And so, Burr would run with Jefferson.74

  “ET TU, BRUTE!”

  As the presidential election of 1800 became a national preoccupation, the partisan environment guaranteed that deals (and double-dealing) would bring pen-wielding politicians and responsive newspaper editors to fever pitch. Excitement filled the air, as the Republican upsurge of 1799–1800 led the High Federalists to express their apocalyptic visions of what a Jeffersonian order would entail. Inflamed Hamiltonians and New England divines predicted public immoralities unknown since the fall of Rome, along with Bible-burning, incest, rape, and other outrages. Jefferson was called an atheist, demagogue, and Jacobin; he was compared to a “ravening wolf,” prepared to “glut his deadly appetite on the vitals” of the country. Rumors of conspiratorial plots and an impending civil war began to spread.75

  For the moment, Burr was the least of the Federalists’ problems, though temptation struck in September, when he traveled through New England in the company of his uncle Pierpont Edwards. The Connecticut Courant wailed that “the pious Col. Burr, and the pious Mr. Edwards, are uniting their pious exertions to introduce the pious Mr. Jefferson to the presidential chair.” Their motives are “of the truest benevolence and philanthropy,” the editorial droned on, projecting Burr as a corrupt vice president and Edwards as a sycophant in search of “lucrative office” as soon as the “new order” commenced. Not every New England divine felt this way. One Republican reported to the Aurora that Reverend Timothy Dwight, president of Yale, “had taught his pupils, that there was not a Democrat fit to give a crust to a dog”—except Dwight’s cousin, “col. Burr.”76

  Meanwhile, the energetic Hamilton engaged in a campaign within a campaign. The former treasury secretary was in an uphill battle, intent on defeating Jefferson and at the same time keeping Adams from retaining the presidential chair. As he had in 1796, but with far more vigor now, Hamilton worked behind the scenes to elevate a South Carolinian Pinckney—this time Charles Cotesworth Pinckney—over Adams. The ostensible ticket of Adams and Pinckney was put in place on May 3. Less than a week later, Hamilton made his intentions clear by telling his friend Theodore Sedgwick that he would do all he could to oppose Adams, whom he described as “unfit” for office. Hamilton went so far as to confess that he would rather let Jefferson win than publicly support Adams; either man, he believed, would “sink” the government.77

  Adams was fully aware of Hamilton’s efforts
to undermine him. The second president was self-righteous and hard to love, but he was also uncomfortable resorting to political machinations. His well-earned hatred for Hamilton, however, compelled him to take some action. As news of the ticket was announced, Adams dismissed two of his disloyal cabinet officers, Secretary of State Timothy Pickering and Secretary of War James McHenry, both of whom were confidants of Hamilton. The Federalist Party was unraveling, as internal bickering and outright backstabbing divided its members.78

  Long before the election of 1800 resulted in a tie between Jefferson and Burr, there were solid hints that the next president would be decided by a backroom deal. Even before the New York election returns were known, rumors circulated of an unexpected alliance being struck between Jefferson and Adams. In this improbable construction, Adams was to be kept in office by a group of moderates from both parties, with the understanding that Jefferson would succeed him after four years, fully supported by that same collection of moderates. In preparation for the transition, Adams would appoint to his cabinet men whom Jefferson approved. One such rumor put Burr in the middle, brokering the deal. No such thing was contemplated by either Adams or Jefferson, of course, but that did not stop Samuel Smith of Maryland from making believers out of some of Adams’s allies.79

  Smith was a Republican congressman, and he deeply desired to negotiate this kind of agreement. He met with Adams’s secretary of war, Benjamin Stoddert, wondering out loud about the possibility of a secret alliance. An eager politician mostly unknown to history, the interloper Smith embraced his “fifteen minutes of fame” as a potential kingmaker. Though he made no headway with Stoddert, he would subsequently play a key role in resolving the tie between Jefferson and Burr.