Читать книгу Aaron Burr: A Biography - Nathan Schachner - Страница 37

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By October, 1781, the bill for the disbarment of Tory lawyers was already up for consideration in the New York Legislature, and its passage practically assured. Burr had studied with Smith a scant six months; his entire previous training in the law was, at the most, another six months. Yet, for reasons heretofore suggested, he was desperately anxious to qualify at once for the practice of law. It was an opportunity that, once missed, could never be retrieved.

But the code of rules governing admission to the Bar was clear and unmistakable in its requirements. The candidate, before he could appear for the preliminary examinations, must have studied under competent tutelage for a period of at least three years.

It seemed an insuperable obstacle; yet Burr did not despair. With characteristic energy and adroitness he set about obtaining a suspension of the rules in his particular case. Already he had laid the basis. Theodosia Prevost had seen Judge Hobart, of the Supreme Court, in his behalf, and had received a favorable response.^[136] Burr himself had communicated with Judge Robert Yates, who extended himself warmly for his youthful friend. It was a service that Aaron Burr, who never forgot favors received, was to repay many times over in their later political careers.

Armed with the approbation of these two justices of a Bench of three, he turned next to the sole remaining justice, Chief Justice Richard Morris. He hurried to Albany with additional letters of introduction, including one from his old General, Alexander McDougall, to General Philip Schuyler.

Arrived in Albany, he wrote Morris a letter in which he stated his case with a flattering mixture of logic and respectful admiration. “Sir, I do myself the honour to enclose you several letters, which were intended, I believe, to introduce me to your acquaintance, perhaps to your friendship.” He had unfortunately found, he pursued, “a rule of unexpected rigour, which, if strictly adhered to, must effectually exclude me from this bar. Mr. Judge Yates gives me reason to hope this rule may be enlarged. If it should be deemed unadvisable to make one of such latitude as may include me within a general description, perhaps my particular situation may be thought to claim particular indulgence.

“Before the revolution, and long before the existence of the present rule, I had served some time with an attorney of another state. At that period I could have availed myself of this service; and, surely, no rule could be intended to have such retrospect as to injure one whose only misfortune is having sacrificed his time, his constitution, and his fortune, to his country.

“It would give me sensible regret were my admission to establish a precedent which might give umbrage to the bar; but, should your opinion accord with my wishes, with respect to the indulgence due to my particular case, the expression of it, to any gentleman of the profession, would doubtless remove the possibility of discontent.”^[137]

But, though Burr had armed himself at every point, the matter of breaking through the fixed inertia of rules of law was not to prove easy. He spent some anxious weeks in Albany, seeking interviews with the judges who were to pass on his fate, using every influence and special argument at his command. Yet still his petition dragged.

While waiting for the final decision, his stay complicated by sick headaches and the difficulty of finding rooms, he found himself suddenly catapulted into the midst of Albany society, where, he wrote Mrs. Prevost, “there is scarce any age or sex that does not, either from information or acquaintance, know something of him”; that information, notably, “the whole history of Burr, and much of Theo, but nothing unfavorable,” having been industriously broadcast by “an old, weather-beaten lady, Miss Depeyster.”^[138]

In fact, society opened wide its doors to the engaging, handsome young soldier. Philip van Rensselaer, one of the wealthiest and most respectable young men of the town, tendered his services, and insisted that Burr transfer his lodgings to the quarters of two maiden aunts of his. Miss Depeyster proved “a warm friend and advocate.”

Meanwhile he was reading Rousseau in a vain effort to possess his soul in patience, and writing to Mrs. Prevost. His letters to the woman he loved, ten years his senior, are remarkable compositions. There is but little of love or of tender endearments in them, but much of books and ethics and philosophy; veritable didactic essays with more than a hint of the dictatorial. Already Burr’s passion for the improvement and disciplinary education of all and sundry was beginning to show.

Behold the schoolmaster in this surprising address to the beloved!

“I am not certain I shall be regularly punctual in writing you in this manner every day when I get at business,” he informs her, “but I shall, if possible, devote one quarter of an hour a day to you. In return, I demand one half of an hour every day from you; more I forbid, unless on special occasions. This half hour is to be mine, to be invariably at the same time, and, for that purpose, fixed at an hour least liable to interruption, and as you shall find most convenient.... The children will each have their sheet, and, at the given hour, write, if but a single word. Burr, at this half hour, is to be a kind of watchword.”^[139]

Or consider this abrupt and strange epistle. “You wrote me too much by Dom.,” he declared. “I hope it was not from a fear that I should be dissatisfied with less. It is, I confess, rather singular to find fault with the quantity, when matter and manner are so delightful. You must, however, deal less in sentiments and more in ideas. Indeed, in the letter in answer to my last, you will need to be particularly attentive to this injunction. I think constantly of the approaching change in our affairs, and what it demands. Do not let us, like children, be so taken with the prospect as to lose sight of the means. Remember to write me facts and ideas, and don’t torture me with compliments, or yourself with sentiments to which I am already no stranger. Write but little, and very little at once.”^[140]

One wonders with what mingled emotions this experienced woman of the world read these lines, and many similar ones exhibiting the same meticulous ordering of the lives of others—all for their own benefit and improvement, of course. But in spite of this, in spite of exhortations to make short memoranda (in cipher) of things later to be written, she loved him, and tenderly; and he loved her. They were to be quite happy during the all-too-short period of their marriage.

Meanwhile the Court was unaccountably backward in hearing Burr’s plea for an exemption. The Bar of the State unanimously and enthusiastically opposed any deviation from the rule. This, indeed, was but natural, for they had vested interests that would be disturbed by the opening of the door to a possible flood of competitors. Not one lawyer in Albany could be found to appear for Burr on the motion. He argued it therefore himself, and ably. The Court listened attentively, and decided that, in view of his services to his country, they would dispense with the requirement as to length of time employed in studies, but that there would be no indulgence granted as to the legal qualifications themselves. This was fair and reasonable. Considerably greater indulgence was to be shown applicants for admission to the Bar of New York long after, at the termination of the World War.

The leading members of the Albany Bar chuckled grimly at that. They were the examiners. It would be hard if they could not find the means to reject this young upstart. But, to their vast surprise, Burr answered their most severe and critical questions with ease and assurance, and they were compelled, albeit reluctantly, to certify his qualifications to the Court. On January 19, 1782, he was licensed as an attorney, and on April 17th he was duly admitted to practice.