Читать книгу: «The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 01, No. 05, March, 1858», страница 12

BY THE DEAD

 
  Pride that sat on the beautiful brow,
    Scorn that lay in the arching lips,
  Will of the oak-grain, where are ye now?
    I may dare to touch her finger-tips!
  Deep, flaming eyes, ye are shallow enough;
    The steadiest fire burns out at last.
  Throw back the shutters,—the sky is rough,
    And the winds are high,—but the night is past.
 
 
  Mother, I speak with the voice of a man;
    Death is between us,—I stoop no more;
  And yet so dim is each new-born plan,
    I am feebler than ever I was before,—
  Feebler than when the western hill
    Faded away with its sunset gold.
  Mother, your voice seemed dark and chill,
    And your words made my young heart very cold.
 
 
  You talked of fame,—but my thoughts would stray
    To the brook that laughed across the lane;
  And of hopes for me,—but your hand's light play
    On my brow was ice to my shrinking brain;
  And you called me your son, your only son,—
    But I felt your eye on my tortured heart
  To and fro, like a spider, run,
    On a quivering web;—'twas a cruel art!
 
 
  But crueller, crueller far, the art
    Of the low, quick laugh that Memory hears!
  Mother, I lay my head on your heart;
    Has it throbbed even once these fifty years?
  Throbbed even once, by some strange heat thawed?
    It would then have warmed to her, poor thing,
  Who echoed your laugh with a cry!—O God,
    When in my soul will it cease to ring?
 
 
  Starlike her eyes were,—but yours were blind;
    Sweet her red lips,—but yours were curled;
  Pure her young heart,—but yours,—ah, you find
    This, mother, is not the only world!
  She came,—bright gleam of the dawning day;
    She went,—pale dream of the winding-sheet.
  Mother, they come to me and say
    Your headstone will almost touch her feet!
 
 
  You are walking now in a strange, dim land:
    Tell me, has pride gone with you there?
  Does a frail white form before you stand,
    And tremble to earth, beneath your stare?
  No, no!—she is strong in her pureness now,
    And Love to Power no more defers.
  I fear the roses will never grow
    On your lonely grave as they do on hers!
 
 
  But now from those lips one last, sad touch,—
    Kiss it is not, and has never been;
  In my boyhood's sleep I dreamed of such,
    And shuddered,—they were so cold and thin!
  There,—now cover the cold, white face,
    Whiter and colder than statue stone!
  Mother, you have a resting-place;
    But I am weary, and all alone!
 

AARON BURR.⁹

The life of Aaron Burr is an admirable subject for a biographer. He belonged to a class of men, rare in America, who are remarkable, not so much for their talents or their achievements, as for their adventures and the vicissitudes of their fortunes. Europe has produced many such men and women: political intriguers; royal favorites; adroit courtiers; adventurers who carried their swords into every scene of danger; courtesans who controlled the affairs of states; persevering schemers who haunted the purlieus of courts, plotted treason in garrets, and levied war in fine ladies' boudoirs.

In countries where all the social and political action is concentrated around the throne, where a pretty woman may decide the policy of a reign, a royal marriage plunge nations into war, and the disgrace of a favorite cause the downfall of a party, such persons find an ample field for the exercise of the arts upon which they depend for success. The history and romance of Modern Europe are full of them; they crowd the pages of Macaulay and Scott. But the full sunlight of our republican life leaves no lurking-place for the mere trickster. Doubtless, selfish purposes influence our statesmen, as well as the statesmen of other countries; but such purposes cannot be accomplished here by the means which effect them elsewhere. He who wishes to attract the attention of a people must act publicly and with reference to practical matters; but the ear of a monarch may be reached in private. Therefore there is a certain monotony in the lives of most of our public men; they may be read in the life of one. It is, generally, a simple story of a poor youth, who was born in humble station, and who, by painful effort in some useful occupation, rose slowly to distinguished place,—who displayed high talents, and made an honorable use of them. Aaron Burr, however, is an exception. His adventures, his striking relations with the leading men of his time, his romantic enterprises, the crimes and the talents which have been attributed to him, his sudden elevation, and his protracted and agonizing humiliation have attached to his name a strange and peculiar interest. Mr. Parton has done a good service in recalling a character which had well-nigh passed out of popular thought, though not entirely out of popular recollection.

As to the manner in which this service has been performed, it is impossible to speak very highly. The book has evidently cost its author great pains; it is filled with detail, and with considerable gossip concerning the hero, which is piquant, and, if true, important. The style is meant to be lively, and in some passages is pleasant enough; but it is marked with a flippancy, which, after a few pages, becomes very disagreeable. It abounds with the slang usually confined to sporting papers. According to the author, a civil man is "as civil as an orange," a well-dressed man is "got up regardless of expense," and an unobserved action is done "on the sly." He affects the intense, and, in his pages, newspapers "go rabid and foam personalities," are "ablaze with victories" and "bristling with bulletins,"—the public is in a "delirium,"—the politicians are "maddened,"—letters are written in "hot haste," and proclamations "sent flying." He appears to be on terms of intimacy with historical personages such as few writers are fortunate enough to be admitted to. He approves a remark of George II. and patronizingly exclaims, "Sensible King!" He has occasion to mention John Adams, and salutes him thus: "Glorious, delightful, honest John Adams! An American John Bull! The Comic Uncle of this exciting drama!" He then calls him "a high-mettled game-cock," and says "he made a splendid show of fight."

Such little foibles and vanities might easily be pardoned, if the book had no more important defects. It professes to explain portions of our history hitherto not perfectly understood, and it contains many statements for the truth of which we must rely upon the good sense and accuracy of the writer; yet it is full of errors, and often evinces a disposition to exaggeration little calculated to produce confidence in its reliability.

Our space will not permit us to point out all the mistakes which Mr. Parton has made, and we will mention only a few which attracted our attention upon the first perusal of his book. His hero was appointed Lieutenant-Colonel when only twenty-one years of age, and the author says that he was "the youngest man who held that rank in the Revolutionary army, or who has ever held it in an army of the United States." Alexander Hamilton and Brockholst Livingston both reached that rank at twenty years of age.—Mr. Parton tells us that Burr's rise in politics was more "rapid than that of any other man who has played a conspicuous part in the affairs of the United States"; and that "in four years after fairly entering the political arena, he was advanced, first, to the highest honor of the bar, next, to a seat in the National Council, and then, to a competition with Washington, Adams, Jefferson, and Clinton, for the Presidency itself." He could hardly have crowded more errors into a single paragraph. Burr never attained the highest honor of the bar. His first appearance in politics was as a member of the Legislature of New York, in 1784, when twenty-eight years old; five years after, he was appointed Attorney-General; in 1791 he was elected to the Senate of the United States; and in 1801, at the age of forty-five, seventeen years after he fairly entered public life, he became Vice-President. Hamilton was a member of Congress at twenty-five, and at thirty-two was Secretary of the Treasury; Jefferson wrote the great Declaration when only thirty-two years old; and the present Vice-President is a much younger man than Burr was when he reached that station. The statement, that Burr was the rival of Washington and Adams for the Presidency, is absurd. Under the Constitution, at that time, each elector voted for two persons,—the candidate who received the greatest number of votes (if a majority of the whole) being declared President, and the one having the next highest number Vice-President. In 1792, at which time Burr received one vote in the Electoral College, all the electors voted for Washington; consequently the vote for Burr, upon the strength of which Mr. Parton makes his magnificent boast, was palpably for the Vice-Presidency. In 1796, the Presidential candidates were Adams and Jefferson, for one or the other of whom every elector voted,—the votes for Burr, in this instance thirty in number, being, as before, only for the Vice-Presidency. Even in 1800, when the votes for Jefferson and Burr in the Electoral College were equal, it is notorious that this equality was simply the result of their being supported on the same ticket,—the former for the office of President, and the latter for that of Vice-President. Mr. Parton says, that, in the House of Representatives, Burr would have been elected on the first ballot, if a majority would have sufficed; and that Mr. Jefferson never received more than fifty-one votes in a House of one hundred and six members. Had he taken the trouble to examine Gales's "Annals of Congress" for 1799-1801, he would have found that the House consisted of one hundred and four members, two seats being vacant; and that on the first ballot Jefferson received fifty-five votes, a majority of six. We are several times told that Robert R. Livingston was one of the framers of the Constitution. Mr. Livingston was not a member of the Constitutional Convention; the only person of the name in that body was William Livingston, Governor of New Jersey.—Mr. Parton comes into conflict with other writers upon matters affecting his hero, as to which he would have done well if he had given his authority. Matthew L. Davis, Burr's first biographer and intimate friend, says that Burr's grandfather was a German; Parton, speaking of the family at the time of the birth of Burr's father, says that it was Puritan and had flourished in New England for three generations. Mr. Parton makes Burr a witness of a dramatic interview between Mrs. Arnold and Mrs. Prevost shortly after the discovery of Arnold's treason, the particulars of which Davis says Burr obtained from the latter lady after she became his wife.—Our author is not consistent in his own statements. Upon one page he describes Mrs. Prevost, about the time of her marriage, as "the beautiful Mrs. Prevost"; a few pages farther on he says she was "not beautiful, being past her prime." He informs us that it is the fashion to underrate Jefferson, that the polite circles and writers of the country have never sympathized with him,—and in the very same paragraph he remarks that "Thomas Jefferson has been for fifty years the victim of incessant eulogy."

This carelessness in reciting facts is associated with a certain confusion of mind. Mr. Parton does not appear to have the power of distinguishing between conflicting statements of the same thing. He describes Hamilton as honest and generous, and then accuses him of malignity and dishonorable intrigue. He says that Wilkinson, at that time a general in the United States service, may have thought of hastening the dissolution of the Union "without being in any sense a traitor." How an officer can meditate the destruction of a government which he has sworn to protect, and not be in any sense of the word a traitor, will puzzle minds not educated in what the author calls "the Burr school." But the most curious exhibition which Mr. Parton makes of this mental and moral confusion occurs in a passage where he attempts to prove his assertion, that "Burr has done the state some service, though they know it not." This service, of which the state has continued so obstinately ignorant, consists mainly in having invented filibustering, and in having brought duelling into disgrace by killing Hamilton. "That was a benefit," our moralist gravely remarks concerning this last claim to gratitude. Certainly; just such a benefit as Captain Kidd conferred upon the world; he brought piracy into disgrace by being hanged for it. As to the invention of filibustering, we are hardly disposed to rank Burr with Fulton and Morse for his valuable discovery; but perhaps the shades of Lopez and De Boulbon, and the living "gray-eyed man of destiny," will worship him as the founder of their order.

It is impossible to define Mr. Parton's opinion of his hero. It is not very clear to himself. He is inclined to admire him, and is quite sure that he has been harshly dealt with. In the Preface he intimates that it is his purpose to exhibit Burr's good qualities,—for, as he says, "it is the good in a man who goes astray that ought most to alarm and warn his fellow-men." The converse of which proposition we suppose the author thinks equally true, and that it is the evil in a man who does not go astray which ought most to delight and attract his fellow-men. At the end of the volume Mr. Parton makes a summary of Burr's character,—says that he was too good for a politician, and not great enough for a statesman,—that Nature meant him for a schoolmaster,—that he was a useful Senator, an ideal Vice-President, and would have been a good President,—and that, if his Mexican expedition had succeeded, he would have run a career similar to that of Napoleon. We do not dare attack this extraordinary eulogy. To describe a man as not great enough for a statesman, yet fitted to make a good President, as a natural-born schoolmaster and at the same time a Napoleon, argues a boldness of conception which makes criticism dangerous.

Mr. Parton occasionally assumes an air of impartiality, and mildly expresses his disapprobation of Burr's vices; but in every instance where those vices were displayed he earnestly defends him. In the contest with Jefferson, Parton insists that Burr acted honorably; in the duel with Hamilton, Burr was the injured party; in his amours he was not a bad man; so that, although we are told that Burr had faults, we look in vain for any exhibition of them. In the cases where we have been accustomed to think that his passions led him into crime, he either displayed the strictest virtue, or, at most, sinned in so gentlemanlike a manner, with so much kindness and generosity, as hardly to sin at all.

There are three ways of writing a biography: one is, to make a simple narrative and leave the reader to form his own opinion; another, to present the facts so as to illustrate the author's conception of his hero's character; a third, and the most common way, to proceed like an advocate, to suppress everything which can be suppressed, to sneer at everything which cannot be answered, to put the most favorable construction upon all dubious matters, and to throw the strongest light upon every fortunate circumstance. Mr. Parton has tried all three modes, and failed in all. He is an unskilful delineator of character, a poor story-teller, and a worse advocate. His book, despite its spasmodic style, lacks vigor. It indicates a want of firmness and precision of thought. It leaves a mixed impression on the mind. We venture to say, that two thirds of its readers will close the volume with an indefinite contradictory opinion that Burr was a sort of villanous saint, and that the other third, by no means the most inattentive readers, will not be able to form any opinion whatever.

There are four periods or events in the life of Burr which are worthy of attention: his career in the army; his political course and contest with Jefferson; the duel; and the Mexican expedition. Upon the first and most pleasing portion of his life we cannot dwell. He entered the service shortly after the battle of Bunker Hill, and in two years rose to a Lieutenant-Colonelcy. Though engaged in several important battles, he did not have an opportunity to display great military talents, if he possessed them. He was distinguished, but not more so than many other young men. He resigned in the spring of 1779,—as he alleged, on account of ill health, but more probably because the failure of the Lee and Conway intrigue had disappointed his hopes of promotion.

As an indication of character, the most important circumstance of Burr's military life was his quarrel with Washington. This difficulty is said to have grown out of some scandalous affair in which Burr was engaged, a belief which is strengthened by his intrigue with the beautiful and unfortunate Margaret Moncrieffe a few months after. But aside from any such cause, there was ground enough for difference in the characters of the two men. Discipline compelled Washington to hold his subordinates at a distance of implied, if not asserted inferiority; and Burr never met a man to whom he thought himself inferior. Mr. Parton's explanation is, that "Hamilton probably implanted a dislike for Burr in Washington's breast." The only difficulty with this theory is one which the author's suppositions often encounter,—it has no foundation in fact. At the time that Burr was in Washington's family, Hamilton was probably not acquainted with the General; he did not enter his staff until nine months after Burr had left it.

Burr entered public life at the only period in our history when a man of his stamp of mind could have played a conspicuous part. At the close of the Revolution, in addition to the Tories, there were already two political factions in New York. As early as 1777 the Whigs had divided upon the election for Governor, and George Clinton was chosen over Philip Schuyler. The division then created continued after the peace, but the differences were, at first, purely personal. Schuyler was the leader of a party made up of a few great families, most prominent among which were the Van Rensselaers and Livingstons. The Van Rensselaers have never been particularly distinguished except as the possessors of a great estate; the Livingstons, on the other hand, second only to the great Dutch family in wealth, far surpassed them in political power and reputation. The Van Rensselaers and Schuylers were connected with the Livingstons by marriage; and this powerful association, made more powerful by the banishment of the wealthy inhabitants of New York city and Long Island, was still further strengthened by the connection with it of Alexander Hamilton, who married a daughter of Philip Schuyler, and John Jay, who married a daughter of William Livingston. The Schuyler faction excited that opposition which wealth and social and political influence always excite. A party arose which was composed of men of every condition and shade of opinion,—those who were galled by the exclusiveness of the aristocracy,—those who had joined the opposition to Washington,—the young men who had made their reputation during the war and were eager for professional and political promotion,—and all those who were converts to the new doctrines of government which the dispute with England had originated. At the head of these was George Clinton. Though a man of liberal education, and trained to a liberal profession, he had not the showy and attractive accomplishments which distinguished his rivals; but he possessed in an extraordinary degree those more sturdy qualities of mind and character which, in a country where distinction is in the gift of the people, are always generously rewarded. He had great aptitude for business, a clear and rapid judgment, and high physical and moral courage. He was faithful to his friends, and though an unyielding, he was a magnanimous foe. At a time when politics were looked upon almost wholly as the means of personal and family aggrandizement, and the motives of party conduct such as flow from the passions of men, he, more than any of his opponents, adhered to a consistent and not illiberal theory of public action.

At the outset of his political career, Burr acted upon the policy which always governed him. He attached himself closely to neither party. When the political issues grew broader, he was careful not to connect himself with any measure. He did not heartily oppose the abolition of the Tory disabilities, nor the adoption of the Constitution. He was a Clintonian, but not so decidedly as to prevent him from attempting to defeat Clinton. With a few adherents, he stood between the two parties and maintained a position where he could avail himself of any overtures which might be made to him; yet he was careful to be so far identified with one side as to be able to claim some political association whenever it became necessary to do so. His success in this artful course was remarkable. Nominally a Clintonian, in 1789 he supported Yates, and a few months afterwards took office under Clinton. In 1791, while holding a place under a Republican governor, he persuaded a Federal legislature to send him to the Senate of the United States. In the Senate he sided with the opposition, but so moderately that some Federalists were willing to support him for Governor. The Republicans nominated him for the Vice-Presidency, and shortly after, the Federalists in Congress, almost in a body, voted for him for the Presidency. During all this time, his name was not associated with any important measure except a fraudulent banking-scheme in New York.

The occasion of his elevation to the Vice-Presidency is a perfect illustration of the accidental circumstances and unimportant services to which he was generally indebted for advancement. From the commencement of the Presidential canvass of 1800, it was evident that the action of New York would control the election. That State then had twelve votes in the Electoral College; but the electors were chosen by the Legislature,—not, as at present, by the people. The parties in New York were nearly equal, and the result in the Legislature was very doubtful. The city of New York sent twelve members to the Assembly, and usually determined the political complexion of that body. Thus the contest in the nation was narrowed down to a single city, and that not a large one. This gave Burr a favorable field for the exercise of his peculiar talents. His energy, tact, unscrupulousness, and art in conciliating the hostile and animating the indifferent made him unequalled in political finesse. He did not hesitate to use any means in his power. Some one in his pay overheard the discussion in a Federal caucus, and revealed to him the plans of his opponents. He had become unpopular, and had brought odium upon his party by a corrupt speculation; he therefore declined presenting his own name, and made a ticket comprehending the most distinguished persons in the Republican ranks. George Clinton, Gen. Gates, and Brockholst Livingston were placed at the head of it. The most urgent solicitations were necessary to persuade these gentlemen to consent to a nomination for places which were beneath their pretensions, but Burr answered every objection and overcame every scruple. The respectability of the candidates and the vigorous prosecution of the canvass carried the city by a considerable majority, and insured the election of Mr. Jefferson. Mr. Parton finds in this abundant material for extravagant eulogy of Burr. But most people will be surprised to learn that such services constituted a claim to the Vice-Presidency. If being an adroit politician entitles a person to high office, there is not a town in New York which cannot furnish half a dozen statesmen whose exploits have been far more remarkable than Burr's.

Burr's nomination, however, was not solely due to his labors at this election, but in part also to his subsequent address. The importance of New York made it desirable to select the candidate for the Vice-Presidency from that State. A caucus of the Republican members of Congress directed Mr. Gallatin to ascertain who would be the most acceptable candidate. He wrote to Commodore Nicholson, asking him to discover the sentiments of the leading men in the State. The names of Livingston, George Clinton, and Burr had been suggested. Livingston was deaf, and Nicholson is said to have determined to recommend Clinton. Burr, however, saw him afterwards, and persuaded him to substitute his name instead of Clinton's in the letter which he had prepared to send to Philadelphia. Col. Burr was accordingly placed upon the Republican ticket.

The tie vote between Jefferson and Burr, which unexpectedly occurred in the Electoral College, has given rise to the assertion that Burr endeavored to defeat Jefferson and secure his own election. Mr. Parton devotes a chapter to the refutation of this charge, but does not succeed in making a very strong argument. The evidence of Burr's treachery, is as positive as from the nature of the case it can be. Of course, he made no open pledges; it was unnecessary, and it would have been impolitic to do so. The main fact cannot be denied, that for several weeks before and after the election went to the House of Representatives, Burr was openly supported by the Federalists in opposition to Jefferson. Burr knew it; everybody knew it. Why was this support given? It will require plain proof to satisfy any one who is familiar with the motives of political action, that a party would have so earnestly advocated the election of any man without good reason to suppose that he would make an adequate return for its support. There was but one course which Burr, in honor, could take; he should have peremptorily refused to permit his name to be used. A word from him would have ended the matter; but that word was not spoken. The evidence on the other side consists of some statements made several years after, by parties concerned, which are by no means so direct and unequivocal as might be wished,—and of a series of depositions taken in some lawsuits instituted by Col. Burr to investigate the truth of this charge. One circumstance, which seems to have escaped the notice of our biographer, casts suspicion upon all these documents. Burr applied to Samuel Smith, a United States Senator from Maryland, for his testimony. Smith gives the following account of the transaction:—"Col. Burr called on me. I told him that I had written my deposition, and would have a fair copy made of it. He said, 'Trust it to me and I will get Mr. – to copy it.' I did so, and, on his returning it to me, I found words not mine interpolated in the copy." It is not worth while to discuss a defence which was made out by forgery.

His election to the Vice-Presidency terminated Burr's official career. He was deserted by his party, and denounced by the Republican press. Burning with resentment, he turned upon his enemies, and, supported by the Federalists, became a candidate for the Governorship of New York, in opposition to the Republican nominee. Hamilton, who alone among the Federal statesmen had openly opposed Burr during the contest for the Presidency, again separated from his party, and earnestly denounced him. Burr was defeated by an enormous majority. His disappointment and anger at being again foiled by Hamilton prompted him to the most notorious and unfortunate act of his life.

In speaking of his duel with Gen. Hamilton, we do not intend to judge Col. Burr's conduct by the rules by which a more enlightened public opinion now judges the duellist. He and his adversary acted according to the custom of their time; by that standard let them be measured. Mr. Parton thinks that the challenge was as "near an approach to a reasonable and inevitable action as an action can be which is intrinsically wrong and absurd." By this we understand him to say that the course of Col. Burr was in accordance with the etiquette which then governed men of the world in such affairs. We think differently.

During the election for Governor, Dr. Cooper, of Albany, heard Hamilton declare that he was opposed to Burr, and made a public statement to that effect. Gen. Schuyler denied the truth of this assertion, which Dr. Cooper then reiterated in a published letter, saying that Hamilton and Judge Kent had both characterized Burr as "a dangerous man, and one who ought not to be trusted with the reins of government," and that "he could detail a still more despicable opinion which Gen. Hamilton had expressed of Mr. Burr." Nearly two months after this letter was written, Burr addressed a note to Hamilton asking for an unqualified acknowledgment or denial of the use of any expression which would justify Dr. Cooper's assertion. The dispute turned upon the words "more despicable," and as to them there obviously were many difficulties. Cooper thought that the expression, "a dangerous man and one who ought not to be trusted with the reins of government," conveyed a despicable opinion; but many persons might think that such language did not go beyond the reasonable limits of political animadversion. Burr himself made no objection to that particular phrase; he did not allude to it except by way of explanation. The use of such language was common. In his celebrated attack upon John Adams, Hamilton had spoken of Mr. Jefferson as an "ineligible and dangerous candidate." The same words had been publicly applied to Burr himself, two years before. He did not see anything despicable in the opinion then expressed. A man may be unfit for office from lack of capacity, and dangerous on account of his principles. The most rigid construction of the Code of Honor has never compelled a person to fight every fool whom he thought unworthy of public station, and every demagogue whose views he considered unsound. If Dr. Cooper, then, was able to discover a despicable opinion where most people could find none, might he not have seen what he called a more despicable opinion in some remark equally innocent? Burr did not ask what were the precise terms of the remark to which Cooper alluded; he demanded that Hamilton should disavow Cooper's construction of that expression. He took offence, not at what had been said, but at the inference which another had drawn from what had been said. The justification of such an inference devolved upon Cooper, not Hamilton,—who by no rule of courtesy could be interrogated as to the justice of another's opinions. These difficulties presented themselves to the mind of Hamilton. He stated them in his reply, declared that he was ready to answer for any precise or definite opinion which he had expressed, but refused to explain the import which others had placed upon his language. Unfortunately, the last line of his note contained an intimation that he expected a challenge. Burr rudely retorted, reiterating his demand in most insolent terms. The correspondence then passed into the hands of Nathaniel Pendleton on the part of Hamilton, and William P. Van Ness, a man of peculiar malignity of character, upon the part of Burr. The responsibility of his position weighing upon Hamilton's mind, before the final step was taken, he voluntarily stated that the conversation with Dr. Cooper "related exclusively to political topics, and did not attribute to Burr any instance of dishonorable conduct," and again offered to explain any specific remark. This generous, unusual, and, according to strict etiquette, unwarranted proposition removed at once Burr's cause of complaint. Had he been disposed to an honorable accommodation, he would have received Hamilton's proposal in the spirit in which it was made. But, embarrassed by this liberal offer, he at once changed his ground, abandoned Cooper's remark, which had previously been the sole subject of discussion, and peremptorily insisted that Gen. Hamilton should deny ever having made remarks from which inferences derogatory to him could fairly have been drawn. This demand was plainly unjustifiable. No person would answer such an interrogatory. It showed that Burr's desire was, not to satisfy his honor, but to goad his adversary to the field. It establishes the general charge, which Parton virtually admits, that it was not passion excited by a recent insult which impelled him to revenge, but hatred engendered during years of rivalry and stimulated by his late defeat. Burr must long have known Hamilton's feelings towards him. Those feelings had been freely expressed; and Burr's letters discover that he was fully aware of the distrust and hostility with which he was regarded by his political associates and opponents. A man has no claim to satisfaction for an insult given years ago. The entire theory of the duello makes it impossible for one to ask redress for an injury which he has long permitted to go unredressed. The question being, not whether the practice of duelling is wrong, but whether Burr was wrong according to that practice, we have no difficulty in concluding that the challenge was given upon vague and unjustifiable grounds, and that Gen. Hamilton would have been excusable, if he had refused to meet him.