at the time of the presidential campaign which was to elect James Monroe, when the Colonel wrote, in November, 1815, to Mr. Alston that "a congressional caucus will . . . nominate James Monroe. Whether we consider the measure itself, the character and talents of the man, or the State whence he comes, this nomination is equally exceptionable and odious.

The man himself is one of the most improper and incompetent that could be selected. Naturally dull and stupid; extremely illiterate; indecisive pusillanimous, and, of course, hypocritical; has no opinion on any subject.

“If . . . there be a man in the United States of firmness and decision, and having standing enough to afford even a hope of success, it is your duty to hold him up to public view; that man is Andrew Jackson. If this project should accord with your views I could wish to see you prominent in the execution of it. It must be known to be your work. This suggestion has not arisen from any exclusive attachment to Jackson. The object is to break down this vile combination [the Virginia Junto] which rules and degrades the United States. If you should think that any other man could be held up with better prospects of success, name that man. I know of no such.. Exhibit yourself, then, and emerge from this state of nullity. You owe it to yourself, you owe it to me, you owe it to your country, you owe it to the memory of the dead."

And in December, again, "things are wonderfully advanced. These will require a written message (letter) from yourself and others .. advising Jackson what is doing; that communications have

been had with the northern States, requiring him only to be passive, and asking him for a list of persons in the western States to whom you may address your letters." Nothing was to come of it; Mr. Alston had only a few months to live; he was "too much alone, too entirely unconnected with the world, to take much interest in anything;" but Colonel Burr had not forgotten Andrew Jackson.

And he had not forgotten Mexico. They were fighting for liberty out there during those years, and perhaps he understood that to many patriots throughout the Empire his name, and the memory of his adventure, were still an inspiration. As for the "conspiracy," he was reticent, and careful of its secrets, but once in a while the bitterness of old resentments flared up and found relief in speech. "Andrew Jackson dreads me in my decrepitude," he explained; "in the Blennerhassett case he was my general, Calhoun and McDuffie were my associates, but not a word has escaped my lips till now. Our idea was to take possession of Mexico and after a time annex it to the United States." But to a lady who wanted to be told what he had really meant to do in Mexico he replied that "I'd have made it a heaven for women, and you should have been there to enjoy it."

So Aaron Burr passed through the streets of New York, in his singlebreasted blue coat with the standing collar, his buff vest and dark pants, and in winter buckskin mittens and a fur cap under which his hair was "massed up on the top and held by a small shell comb, the whole head profusely powdered." His expression was "sad and melancholy," Mr. Burton T.

Beach was to report, "yet the features were mobile, and when addressing ladies . . the smile around his mouth was literally beautiful, and his eyes would lose their piercing look, and become tender and gentle. His voice was not powerful, but round, full and crisp. His elocution in conversation was perfect

..

his language was terse, almost epigrammatical . his words were always the most apt that could be used. . . His manners were polished, his motions graceful and easy, yet he never . . . lost his noble and dignified bearing. In a bearing and presence which you felt to be something beyond other men, with character in every motion and expression. . I have never seen his peer.' The years passed-twenty-one long, patient years. Colonel Burr was seventy-seven, life was very nearly done with and then one morning, on Wednesday, July 3, 1833, Philip Hone wrote in his diary that "the celebrated Colonel Burr was married on Monday evening to the equally celebrated Mrs. Jumel, widow of Stephen Jumel. It is benevolent in her to keep the old man in his latter days. One good turn deserves another.

CHAPTER III

THE LADIES

I

COLONEL BURR'S effect upon the ladies had always been devastating. "He seems passionately fond of female society," Judge Adams was writing in 1806, "and there is no being better calculated to succeed and shine in that sphere; to the ladies he is all attention-all attention-in conversation he gazes on them with complacency and rapture, and when he addresses them, it is with that smiling affability, those captivating gestures . . those dissolving looks, that soft, sweet and insinuating eloquence which takes the soul captive before it can prepare for defense. In short he is the most perfect model of an accomplished gentleman that could be formed, even by the wanton imagination of poetry and fiction."

Yes. Some of the captives of his charm and Chesterfieldian grace one has already seen. The young damsels of Litchfield and Fairfield, the nameless love whose brothers ducked him in the Kill von Kull, Margaret Moncrieffe who never forgot him, Heaven

knows how many belles of New York, Philadelphia and Washington, Madeline, the Maid of Half Way Hill, the ladies of London, and Copenhagen, and Paris. There were others, without consulting Mr. Cheetham's catalogue. There was, if tradition is to be believed, an Indian squaw on the march to Quebec. There was a middle-aged lady in New York, who was silly and talkative but "certainly good-tempered and cheerful; rather comely, abating a flat chest," with whom, in 1804, "things are not gone to extremities, but there is danger." There were Clara "that Clara you once loved"—and Julia, who "won't do at all; sense without refinement, passion without sentiment," and Leonora, who, the Colonel admitted, "has claims on my recollection."

marry.

And in 1803 there was Celeste, a young Frenchwoman of Philadelphia. She was "pensive and interesting," and "the plot thickens." In fact, the Colonel proposed marriage, but "it is finished-concluded-forever abandoned-Celeste never means to The parting was full of courtesy, and there is a reason to hope there will be no hanging or drowning." But Theodosia was of the opinion that Celeste "meant from the beginning to say that awful word yes; but not choosing to say it immediately you took it as a plump refusal and walked off. She called you back. What more could she do? I would have seen you to Japan before I should have done so much." And in 1804, just after the duel with Mr. Hamilton, Celeste was more "pliant," and "if any male friend of [Theodosia's] should be dying of ennui, recommend to him to engage in a duel and a courtship at the same time."

VOL. II-21