Aaron Burr - Adventurer

By David Abraham

Aaron Burr stood silent in his French, silk shirt. His damp palm slid hard against the smooth, wood handle of the gun as he sought the hammer. The insanity of the time place and purpose of the here and now flooded his mind. If I am killed this day, all of my dream, schemes and aspirations, of expanding the boarders of the United States, will be dashed upon the rocks of historical stupidity. If I kill Hamilton, it will be the same. I will be a marked man and just as politically dead. History will say that the man who could have followed Thomas Jefferson, as President of the United States, allowed pride and arrogance to steal his destiny.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Feb 13, 2013
• ISBN: 9781481713146

David Abraham

David Abraham has authored seven other novels. THY FATHER’S SEED, FLIGHT FROM ALBEROBELLO, LOVE AND PROMISE, THE PRINCIPAL, BAWDY TOWN, TAINTED JUSTICE and BLACK RIVER. He has a B.A from Syracuse University and a Masters degree from the University of Idaho. He is also an actor/director.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

WEEHAWKEN, N.J. JULY 11, 1804, 7 A.M.: AARON BURR waited in the misty morning on the Weehawken bluffs. He reached into his vest pocket and withdrew the note that he had written to himself a week earlier.

He had arrived just before six to keep his appointment with destiny. Soon he heard voices coming from below. He tried to make out what the approaching men were saying, but they spoke in quiet, breathless tones. The climbers stumbled now and again as they made their way up the narrow, dirt path leading from the black Hudson River to the Weehawken summit. Church bells rang faintly from Manhattan across the Hudson; it was seven o’clock.

Soon the shapeless figures of four men cut through the obscure light. Two additional men followed like ghosts in a bad dream. Burr squinted into the morning scrim as he struggled to identify the latter men. Soon he determined that they were boatmen. Burr, a short stocky man with dark hair set above a high forehead, was beginning to show a hint of gray at the temples. In the obscured light of morning, his eyes looked black rather than the bright blue they were in the light of day. He had been known to freeze the will of an ordinary man with just one stare and had proven his courage many times as an officer during the Revolution and in duels, like the one in which he was about to engage.

A tall man in his late forties stepped forward. He nodded and the two exchanged polite salutations as if seated at a church social. Burr silently rebuked himself for allowing his quarrel with Alexander Hamilton to degenerate into a duel. What was it that had led to the demand for this satisfaction of honor? Was it the recent slur uttered a week earlier to Dr. Cooper? Or was it the letter that had been passed on to the newspaper? Perhaps it was merely the long simmering grudge that existed between them. Hamilton had cost him the presidency by casting his vote in the Electoral College for Thomas Jefferson. Burr had to settle for the vice-presidency.

Hamilton had also backed Morgan Lewis against Burr during the New York governor’s election. Whatever the reason, Aaron knew that his life and that of Hamilton, would be forever altered by their actions this day.

Hamilton removed his cloak and mumbled something to Judge Nathanial Pendleton, his second. Pendleton answered in muffled whispers. Dr. David Hosack, the attending physician, inclined his head to listen.

Hamilton’s reddish-brown hair caught a dash of light as Pendleton asked both men to cast lots for their choice of weapons and position. Hamilton seemed relieved when it was determined that he had his choice of both. He quickly selected his flintlock pistol and assumed a predetermined position facing east.

Burr had already shed his cape and was standing silent in his silk shirt. He reluctantly gripped the remaining pistol, approached Hamilton and took his position. The two men stood back to back with cold dark weapons of death at their sides. Aaron felt Hamilton’s tepid back against his. Butterflies filled his stomach. His damp palm slid hard against the smooth, wood handle of the gun as his thumb sought the hammer. The black cotton pants he wore were still wet from the spray of the Hudson. Is this how I shall die? Burr thought.

Burr recalled the time when he was James Monroe’s second. Monroe and Hamilton had met to duel, at this very spot, but he had been able to settle the quarrel between the two men without bloodshed. Why now could someone not do the same for him?

Pendleton kept his six-foot frame erect and somber as he explained the rules governing the duel. Burr’s mind drifted to the reality of what was about to happen. History would record the events of this day, he thought, the squalor of the vice president of the United States dueling with the United States Secretary of the Treasury like a common thug.

Each man will walk ten paces in the direction they are facing, Pendleton instructed.

Turn and face one another, Pendleton called when the ten paces had been completed. As the men turned, Pendleton added, Do you wish to call this duel off and settle your differences without bloodshed?

Neither man answered.

Why is he being so stubborn? Burr thought. He must know that he is not my equal with a weapon. I doubt that he has fired a pistol in years. While I was storming walls in the Canadian campaign of the Revolution, he was playing with pen and paper as an aide-de-camp to General Washington.

Are you ready? Pendleton asked. His voice cut through the still morning air like the clap of thunder. Hamilton nodded in agreement. Present, Pendleton ordered. The duelists raised their pistols just as the sun cut its way through the morning haze

Hamilton waved his pistol around as if trying to gauge distance and aiming point. He finally leveled the weapon at Burr.

With Pendleton’s next call there was a simultaneous volley. Black powder smoke obscured the fog-bound New Jersey bluff.

Branches shattered in the tree next to Burr. He turned from the stagnant smell of sulfur and immediately took stock of his himself; he had not been injured. He looked in the direction of Hamilton hoping that he had struck him in the shoulder, as he had intended. When the smoke cleared he observed his adversary seated on the ground being attended to by Dr. Hosack. Pendleton was on his knees next to his friend, shielding him with Dr. Hosack’s umbrella.

He’s hit, Burr groaned to Judge William Van Ness, Burr’s second. Van Ness hastened toward the fallen man. Matt Daviess, another of Burr’s associates, remained at Burr’s side.

Burr approached his adversary filled with remorse. In anger and frustration, he threw his pistol to the ground. Hamilton looked ashen; his once alabaster shirt now stained with the vermillion of his blood. He moved his head close to the doctor’s ear and whispered, I’m afraid it is a mortal wound, my friend.

Dr. Hosack attempted to attend the wound as Hamilton lost consciousness.

I fear the bullet is lodged next to his spine, the physician said. Please help me get him to the barge. The sooner I get him back to New York, the better his chances will be.

Pendleton and the boatmen carried Hamilton down the path to the boat and placed him on board. Hosack cradled the wounded man in his arms as the boatmen poled the vessel from shore.

Burr sat in his boat, sick with remorse. He watched as the boat carrying his fallen rival faded into the patchy fog and vanished like a sunken ship swallowed by the inky waters.

There’s going to be hell to pay for this morning’s folly, Burr said to his friends.

Matthew Daviess touched Burr’s shoulder. Colonel, you had no choice.

Burr looked at his friend and replied, History will say otherwise. I have just killed a man who has influence in high places.

THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON THERE WAS A KNOCK ON the front door of Burr’s Richmond Hill home. Burr was still lamenting the actions of the previous day’s insanity with his attorney friend and confidant, twenty-one-year-old Samuel Swartout.

Peter, Burr’s young servant, hurried through the parlor to greet the visitor. Peter had been with Burr for ten years. He was only five years old when Aaron won him in a card game while visiting friends in Richmond, Virginia. Burr did not approve of slavery, but most of his friends accepted it. He had treated Peter well, even affording him the opportunity to learn how to read and write—a practice banned in most of the South. He had intended to give Peter his freedom, as he had done with Seymour, his servant through the Revolution, but the boy was only 15. How would he earn a living? The life of a free black was often worse than that of those in bondage. He recalled the masses of free blacks in Baltimore and the plight they faced.

As the boy moved to answer the door, Swartout stopped him. I’ll get it, Peter. Moments later Swartout returned. Mr. Vice President, Judge Pendleton is here to see you.

Burr moved slowly to the front of the house, apprehensive of the news he was about to receive. Pendleton stood in the door, pale and haggard with his tricorn in his hand. He had refused Swartout’s invitation to enter. He appeared awkward, as if unsure of how to deliver the burdensome message he carried.

How is General Hamilton doing? Burr asked, hoping for good news.

Pendleton shook his head as tears welled in his eyes.

Mr. Vice President, he announced in a ponderous tone. I have just come from the home of William Bayard, where General Hamilton was taken after he was wounded. Mr. Alexander Hamilton, the Secretary of the Treasury is dead. May God have mercy on your soul. Pendleton turned, placed his hat upon his head and left.

Burr, with his head bent in sorrow returned to the parlor.

You can’t stay here, Colonel! Swartout said as he followed his mentor. Hamilton’s supporters will be calling for your head.

I can run, Sam, but I can’t hide. I must stay and finish out my term as Vice President.

What do you intend to do, Colonel? Sam asked.

Do? Burr asked. "What can I do? I must be here to preside over the Senate in the fall."

If you are intent on finishing out your term, then at least get away from New York until November when the Senate convenes. Perhaps by then cooler heads will prevail.

New York was a hotbed of federalist agitation, and Hamilton had long been the faction’s white knight. As Swartout spoke, Burr’s legal mind began dissecting what lay before him. Hamilton’s supporters could have him tried and even hung for murder before his own allies rallied to his defense. He decided Swartout was right; he had to flee.

Where am I to go?

Why not take a trip to Philadelphia and visit the Biddles? Charles has asked you to visit on several occasions.

His mind made up, Burr turned to his servant. Peter, pack some things, we will be leaving the city for a while.

"How long will we be gone, Colonel… sir?

I don’t know, Peter, we may be gone a while.

When Peter disappeared, Sam Swartout looked at his friend and said, Colonel, I’m going with you.

Burr nodded his approval. Meet me at the dock, where my barge is moored, he said slowly as he walked Swartout to the door. He then went upstairs, and began collecting clothes and accoutrements. After packing, he walked down to the portico, where Peter waited with the carriage.

Peter, please, there are a few bags upstairs.

The boy touched his hand to his head and scampered into the house to get Burr’s belongings. When the carriage was loaded, Burr climbed into the back. Peter whispered soothing words to the coal-black horses as they jostled one another in nervous anticipation of the journey ahead.

Where are we going, Colonel? Peter asked.

Take the road to my barge. We are going to meet Mr. Swartout there and then go on to Philadelphia to visit Charles Biddle. Perhaps later we shall also visit Senator Pierce Butler on Saint Simons Island in South Carolina.

Will we get to see Ms. Theodosia in Charleston? Peter asked.

Burr frowned, but did not answer.

An hour later, Burr met Sam Swartout at the docks. Swartout had canvassed the political haunts in Manhattan, and offered the latest news. DeWitt Clinton, mayor of New York and a Hamilton myrmidon, had branded Burr a murderer and was demanding that he be arrested. After conferring in quiet, the three travelers left the carriage and horse with a hostler. Burr hired some boatmen to row his barge across the water to Staten Island, where the trio sought lodging with Commodore Thomas Truxton. The old salt was a close friend with whom Burr had previously discussed his dream of uniting the Floridas and Texas with the United States.

Truxton was a nervous little man who seemed to bend with pressure. Although he was considered a friend, Burr knew of Ted’s propensity to buckle under stress and was always cautious about telling the commodore too many details.

The following morning after a breakfast of French toast, coffee and eggs, Truxtun took Burr, Sam and Peter across the river to Cranbury, New Jersey where the three travelers were able to obtain horses for the trip to Philadelphia.

CHAPTER 2

AARON BURR, SAM SWARTOUT, AND PETER ARRIVED in Philadelphia late the following day and went directly to the summer home of Charles Biddle.

As a young man, Burr and his late wife, Theodosia, had often visited the Biddles. Charles Biddle had introduced Burr to Theodosia shortly after the death of her first husband.

The travelers were met at the front of the house by Biddle’s butler Moses. Why, Colonel Burr, it’s nice to see you, sir; it’s been a long time. Moses took the reins of the mounts and handed them to a groom. The governor will be most pleased to see you.

Charles Biddle had served as vice governor of Pennsylvania, but enjoyed the honorific of Governor.

When he entered the Biddle summer mansion, Burr marveled at the sumptuous surroundings. Charles was a fan of anything English and had furnished his home with the finest English furniture and decor.

I see that the governor has added to his collection of English paintings, Burr said.

Yes, sir, Colonel. Da governor sho’ do like it when he gets a new paint’n.

Moses ushered the four men to the study. There, the bulky Biddle was engaged in conversation with a mutual friend—tiny, fastidious Anthony Merry. A third man, Colonel George Morgan, rounded out the complement of friends. Merry was the English minister to the United States. Morgan had been assigned to nearby Fort Pitt to oversee diplomatic relations with the Indians. He was known to the Indians as Tamamend; they trusted his word and considered him to be their friend.

Charles Biddle grinned broadly and rose, as did Merry and Morgan. Mr. Vice President, Charles called with delight. What a most welcome surprise… and, Mr. Swartout, welcome, welcome. You know Minister Merry and Colonel Morgan, of course.

Burr embraced his old friend and then shook hands with Merry and Morgan. It’s an honor to see you again, minister. The last time we spoke was in Washington City. You are looking well. He turned to Morgan. George you haven’t changed a bit. You still look fit enough to wrestle a bear.

Morgan swelled with pride. As do you, Colonel, as do you. I haven’t seen much of you over the last several years. All is well?

So far, but I thought it the better part of valor to take my leave of New York for a while. Time is needed to quell the anger that runs hot concerning the unfortunate demise of the esteemed secretary of the treasury. I was forced to challenge him to a duel.

The men started. All knew of Hamilton’s longstanding rivalry with Burr, and were quick to support their friend.

General Hamilton’s passing is most regrettable, but if one of you had to shed his blood, I’m pleased that it was not you, Biddle said, his voice thick with emotion. Patting Aaron on the hand he added, Let us not speak of unpleasant matters. Please have a seat. Charles turned to Swartout. Samuel, you’re looking fit. How are those two rascal brothers of yours, John and Robert?

They are both doing well, Governor, thank you for asking.

Charles motioned to his butler. Moses, take the colonel’s servant to the kitchen and have Melinda fix him something to eat. The poor boy must be starved. When Moses left, Biddle turned to his guests. Gentlemen, what would you like? My Melinda is a wizard in the kitchen.

Suddenly the sound of women laughing and prattling filled the adjoining room. Burr recognized the distinct laughter of Ann Biddle Wilkinson. Unknown to Burr, she was visiting her cousin Charles.

Burr had courted Ann many years earlier, during the war. Her intelligence had led Burr to present a bill before the New York legislature giving women the right to vote; it did not pass. His courtship also failed. Ann chose James Wilkinson. Wilkinson had earned the title of The Boy General during the Revolution while he and Burr served together in Quebec. At eighteen, Wilkinson had been the youngest general in the Continental Army. He had also been Burr’s best friend.

When Ann saw Aaron, she rushed to him and they embraced. Colonel, no one told me that you were coming. She ran her hand over her hair. I look a mess.

Burr looked at her and chose to ignore the remark about her appearance. He had not seen his former love in many years; her once radiant smile was gone. She looked pale and unhappy. Her hair was dull and unkempt. Ann Wilkinson’s once-supple body had grown thin.

I didn’t have time to notify Charles. My decision to leave New York was somewhat sudden.

Are you in some sort of difficulty?

Burr smiled. Why would you think that?

Ann chuckled. Colonel Burr, it’s me, Ann, remember. You only do things on the spur of the moment when you’ve been naughty.

Changing the subject, Aaron inquired, What are you doing so far from New Orleans?

Ann hesitated before answering. I had not been feeling well, so my husband suggested that I accompany him north and stay with my cousin while he visited Washington City. I agreed to come north for the summer to avoid that wretched Louisiana heat and humidity.

Jamie in Washington? Aaron thought. He never contacted me to let me know that he was in the north. He sought to change the subject. I trust that your time in Philadelphia has been good to you?

I’m feeling much better already, thank you. My cousin sees that I am well cared for, and your presence has put a blush upon my cheek.

Aaron smiled with pleasure, then, turned gracefully from Ann to bow to the other ladies. Madam Merry, it is my profound pleasure to be in your company again. And Hannah, my spirits are always lifted by your presence.

Hannah Biddle was a dour woman with a quiet disposition. She had given Charles almost a dozen children and looked the worse for it.

The wife of the minister was a tall, fair woman with an ample body and a mouth to match. Jefferson always referred to her as Virago. He thought her an overbearing woman who kept too tight a rein on Anthony.

Sam took his turn at greeting the women. He smiled and offered salutations. When he had formally made his acquaintance with the minister’s wife, and had asked after the wellbeing of Mrs. Biddle and the children, he turned to Ann. Mrs. Wilkinson, how is your illustrious husband?

He is well, but he has taken to southern cooking like a gator to water. I’m afraid that his waist has grown larger than his ego. Presently he is in Washington. He expects to return to southern cooking in Louisiana within the month.

Everyone laughed.

You ought to visit New Orleans, Colonel, Ann continued. Jamie has the people convinced that you could lead them to a victory over the Spanish Dons. He remembers how the two of you used to talk about one day leading a group of men into Mexico and seizing Texas for the United States.

Burr lowered his eyes. That my dear, Ann, has been my dream, but circumstance of fate—and stupidity—may have forever lost for me that possibility. I fear that my recent brush with destiny has cost me the Presidency. Without the power of that office my dream of a united America may never come to fruition.

What have you done?

The colonel recently killed Alexander Hamilton in a duel, my dear, Charles replied. If you wish to form an army of your own, Colonel, I will throw my fortune and men from Pennsylvania behind you, Biddle barked. I still have many followers.

And I’m sure that Andy Jackson will muster his Tennessee Volunteers to the cause, Sam added.

Such an undertaking would fail unless there was a war between Spain and the United States, Burr interjected.

Jamie says that the Americans in the South are poised to provoke a war with Spain, Ann added.

That may be so, Burr agreed, but the President is not partial to such an action, even though West Florida was clearly part of the Louisiana Purchase.

You should go down there and talk to the people, Colonel. Jamie says that the Americans in Florida are ripe for a fight. Ann’s eyes took on a false brilliance. Jamie boasts that he will provide you with a different woman every night. Believe me, Colonel, my husband has an eye for the Creole and Spanish ladies.

Aaron ignored her reference to women. Perhaps you are right, Ann. When you write your husband, give him my regards and tell him that as soon as my term of office is over I will journey to New Orleans.

My country is still at odds with Spain over Florida even though we gave them our interest there, Merry offered. Perhaps if there was an uprising against the Spanish in Florida, Her Majesty’s Navy would be of some assistance.

Thank you, Minister Merry. I shall remember your offer. However, I believe sooner or later the United States will be at war over Louisiana. When that happens, we will take Mexico, Texas, and the Floridas.

No one noticed the look of displeasure that flitted across George Morgan’s face. Morgan shared Aaron’s view on Florida, but Mexico was another matter. It would mean war with France. He rose and excused himself. I’m sorry gentlemen, but duty calls. I must say goodbye. He turned to Biddle. Charles, thank you for your hospitality; Mr. Vice President, I wish you well on your journey. No doubt I will see you again in Washington." He bowed and disappeared into the outer room.

As the grandfather clock struck the hour of eight, Melinda’s large frame appeared in the doorway of the study. Dinner is being served, she announced.

Charles Biddle rose from his seat, patted his large belly and motioned to his guests. Come, everyone, before Melinda’s food cools.

I’m ready, Sam offered. This war talk has made me hungry enough to eat a horse.

ON THE THIRD DAY OF HIS VISIT WITH THE BIDDLES, Charles asked Burr to lunch at Oeller’s Hotel in Philadelphia.

You look so serious, governor, did your best coonhound die? Burr joked.

I wish it were as trivial as that, Colonel. Biddle was waving a newspaper. "James Cheetham’s The American Citizen has branded you a murderer and has many politicians in high places calling for your arrest. They are insisting you stand trial for the murder of Alexander Hamilton."

I’m well aware of Cheetham’s dislike for me, governor, but there is no law against dueling in New Jersey. Other than trying to sell papers, I don’t know what the hell he’s trying to accomplish. There have been many duels in New Jersey resulting in death.

You are right of course, Colonel, but a rider just arrived from Governor McKean’s office. Apparently your visit here has reached the ears of Governor Bloomfield in New Jersey. He has asked the governor here in Pennsylvania to have you arrested and returned back to New Jersey for trial. Charles slapped the paper against his hand. The governor is a friend of mine. I was with him when he added his name to the Declaration of Independence. Recently he broke with the Federalists. He has a great deal of respect for you. That’s why he sent a rider to warn you to leave Philadelphia… with all haste.

Thank you, Charles. Please extend my best wishes to Tom. Tell the governor that as soon as this unpleasant business is finished I shall call upon him.

I will return home and summon your servant. Moses will assist in making ready for your departure. Oh, and I shall inform Samuel, that you will be leaving. He took a ride into the countryside early this morning. I believe he met a young peasant girl.

When he returns, tell him that we are going on to Pittsburgh at noon, Burr said. I plan to buy a boat and take the Ohio River to the Mississippi. Perhaps I will be visiting New Orleans sooner than I had intended.

Biddle handed Burr an envelope.

What is this?

Consider it a loan. I know in your haste to leave Richmond Hill you did not have time to arrange your finances. This money will hold you over for a while.

Burr hefted the package and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. Thank you, my friend, but it is only a loan. I will see that the sum is returned to you in November when I return. This will tide me over until I reach Charleston. My son-in-law will loan me an additional sum should I need it.

By noon, Sam, Aaron, and Peter were saddled and ready to ride. Charles and Hannah Biddle, the Merrys and Ann Wilkinson gathered to say goodbye.

Mr. Vice President, Merry said, as he shook Aaron’s hand, "Best wishes for a safe and pleasant journey. I will express my support on your behalf to the president when I return to Washington City. God willing, I will speak with you in the fall when Congress convenes. I shall see that Mr. Jefferson reads what Bishop Moore said in his letter to William Coleman. According to the letter posted in the New York Evening Post, General Hamilton stated, on his deathbed, that he bore you no ill will. That ought to quell the voices of the bloodthirsty Federalists."

Thank you, my friend, but only time will tell. Until we meet again, stay well.

Ann Wilkinson was tearful. She and Burr had spent tender moments alone during the past three days rekindling feelings of the past. Now that we are together again you are leaving me, she cried. My heart is breaking. I shall write Jamie and inform him of your pending visit. I look forward to being with you again in New Orleans. God speed my dearest Colonel.

Burr bent low and kissed her gently on the lips. "You will be with me wherever I go. Stay strong, my love; all will work out for