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Aaron Burr had, by the latter part of 1792, definitely committed himself to the Republican ranks. He had, earlier in the year, been seriously considered as a candidate by the Federalists in New York; he had held aloof from active assistance or persuasion during the campaign; his voting in the Senate had been fairly non-partisan in character; but, with the advent of the disputed election, there was no longer any question as to where he stood. The Federalists were infuriated at his decisive part in the transaction, Hamilton considered him now as his most dangerous antagonist in state and national affairs, and the repercussions spread far and wide. He was a national figure, and the Republicans of other States observed the youthful Senator with a new and more thoughtful interest. They consulted with him, and listened with respect to his opinions in the councils of the still somewhat inchoate party.

An influential Pennsylvania Republican urged that “your friends everywhere look to you to take an active part in removing the monarchical rubbish of our government. It is time to speak out, or we are undone. The association in Boston augurs well. Do feed it by a letter to Mr. Samuel Adams. My letter will serve to introduce you to him, if enclosed in one from yourself.”^[206]

The second national election for the Presidency of the United States was then in full swing. The first had been attended with practical unanimity. George Washington had been made President by acclamation; John Adams Vice-President by an overwhelming majority.

But now, in 1792, parties had definitely emerged. There was still no opposition to the reelection of Washington, though the magic of his name had faded considerably. There were a good many underground rumblings at his seeming monarchical tendencies, and especially at the strangle-grip that Hamilton held upon his Administration.

Nevertheless the Republicans determined to move cautiously. They attacked a more vulnerable figure—John Adams, the Vice-President. A serious effort was put forth to unseat him. The strategy was good. Washington must necessarily resign his office at the end of the term—he had already expressed his disinclination for further public honors—and the Vice-President would be the logical heir to the vacant throne.

Three men were mentioned by the Republicans as candidates: Governor George Clinton of New York, Thomas Jefferson, and Aaron Burr.

Burr went quietly to work to build his political fences—chiefly in Massachusetts, Connecticut, Pennsylvania and South Carolina. In New York he was already a power. It was not that he expected to achieve the Vice-Presidency in this particular election, but he took the professional, long view. There would be other campaigns and other years, and an organization was not built in a day. Already, the year before, he had been secretly busy in Massachusetts.^[207]

But quietly and discreetly as he moved, the Federalists got wind of his doings and became alarmed. Their consternation was greater, it seems, than over the avowed candidacy of George Clinton. Rufus King sounded the tocsin. “If the enemies of the government are secret and united,” he warned Hamilton, “we shall lose Mr. Adams. Burr is industrious in his canvass, and his object is well understood by our Antis. Mr. Edwards is to make interest for him in Connecticut, and Mr. Dallas, who is here and quite in the circle of the Governor and the party, informs us that Mr. Burr will be supported as Vice-President in Pennsylvania. Should Jefferson and his friends unite in the project, the votes of Mr. A. may be so reduced, that though more numerous than those of any other person, he may decline the office.”^[208]

Hamilton literally frothed at the mouth on the receipt of this startling information. He lost his head completely. Wherever he turned, the smiling, secretive figure of Burr was looming more and more in his path to thwart his plans, personal, private and political. They had begun as rivals at the New York Bar, and Burr was his only competitor to preeminence in that field. Then Burr had committed the unforgivable crime—he had wrested the senatorship from Hamilton’s father-in-law. The next step had been to sow discord in the ranks of Hamilton’s own party, and to create the first serious threat to his leadership in the State. It had been only by herculean efforts that the thrust had been averted. Burr had countered then by doing more than anyone else to wrench the governorship from Hamilton’s candidate when Jay’s election had seemed assured. In the Senate he had fought Hamilton’s measures in season and out. And now he was attacking the basis of government itself.

There is no doubt that Hamilton’s obsession concerning Burr was definitely pathologic in nature. He differed profoundly with others—notably Jefferson—and the roots of disagreement were far more fundamental than his differences with Burr; yet always the fight was waged along strictly political, if vigorous lines. With Burr, however, it partook of a completely personal and vindictive nature. There was no attempt to attack Burr’s political creed or acts, but he did attack, with a veritable frenzy of vituperation and venomous malice, his private honor, his integrity, his scrupulousness, his ambition.

There has been a tendency to seek the hidden reason for Hamilton’s secret hate in some rivalry in love between the two men, a rivalry in which Hamilton had been supplanted or defeated. Both men were notably gallant in love, and, at first blush, the theory might seem a colorable one. But it must be remembered that at this period Theodosia Prevost Burr was still alive, and there is absolutely no evidence that, during her lifetime, Burr was anything but a tender, devoted and faithful husband. This aside from the consideration that the hypothesis is based on but the merest wisps of rumors, such as have always gravitated irresistibly around the enigmatic personality of Burr. It is possible that somehow, somewhere, Burr had offended Hamilton in his tenderest spot—his vanity.

Hamilton sent a copy of King’s letter forthwith to President Washington, with a gloss that was a model of moderation. “Mr. Burr was here [in Philadelphia] about ten days since and every body wondered what was meant by it,” he commented. “It seems to be explained. Yet I am not certain that this is any thing more than a diversion in favour of Mr. Clinton.”^[209]

When he wrote to others, however, he cast all moderation to the winds. He poured out a torrent of letters, scattering them broadcast with reckless profusion, endlessly repeating his charges, hammering them home, seeking everywhere to undermine confidence in the hated enemy. It is important to note that these communications were all addressed to fellow Federalists, who ordinarily should not have required such extensive propaganda. Is it possible that the real underlying motive for Hamilton’s hatred was the uneasy fear that Burr, who had numerous personal friends in the Federalist ranks, might eventually supplant him in the councils of his own party?

Hamilton used King’s letter as the text for his sermon. To an unnamed Federalist he wrote: “Mr. Clinton’s success I should think very unfortunate; I am not for trusting the government too much in the hands of its enemies. But still, Mr. C. is a man of property, and in private life, as far as I know, of probity. I fear the other gentleman [Burr] is unprincipled, both as a public and a private man ... He is determined, as I conceive, to make his way to be the head of the popular party, and to climbe per fas aut nefas to the highest honors of the State, and as much higher as circumstances may permit. Embarrassed, as I understand, in his circumstances, with an extravagant family, bold, enterprising, and intriguing, I am mistaken if it be not his object to play a game of confusion, and I feel it a religious duty to oppose his career.” Religious duty, indeed!

“I have hitherto scrupulously refrained from interference in elections,” he went on with a wild disregard for the truth, “but the occasion is, in my opinion, of sufficient importance to warrant, in this instance, a departure from that rule. I, therefore, commit my opinion to you without scruple; but in perfect confidence. I pledge my character for discernment, that it is incumbent upon every good man to resist the present design.”^[210]

Strange language, even for those times, certain to make a deep-seated impression on men who perhaps did not know Burr personally, who looked upon Hamilton as their leader, and who knew that he was intimately acquainted with the object of his opprobrium. Loose language, too, for there is nothing definite, nothing tangible about the repeated accusations; and an examination of Burr’s career, both public and private, during this period, discloses nothing on which these charges could possibly be hung.

As the letters flowed from Hamilton’s facile pen he grew more and more unrestrained. To another Federal politician he repeated almost verbatim the old charges, and proceeded further: “Mr. Burr’s integrity as an individual is not unimpeached. As a public man, he is one of the worst sort—a friend to nothing but as it suits his interest and ambition ... ’Tis evident that he aims at putting himself at the head of what he calls the ‘popular party,’ as affording the best tools for an ambitious man to work with. Secretly turning liberty into ridicule, he knows as well as most men how to make use of that name. In a word, if we have an embryo Caesar in the United States, ’tis Burr.”^[211]

To Steele, however, who, as a member of Congress, was well acquainted with the victim, he writes far more cautiously, and with an inconsistency that is deliberate. “My opinion of Mr. Burr is yet to form—” he says surprisingly, “but, according to the present state of it, he is a man whose only political principle is to mount at all events, to the highest legal honors.” Moreover, he insinuates, “imputations, not favorable to his integrity as a man, rest upon him, but I do not vouch for their authenticity.”^[212] This, almost a month after he had pledged his character and reputation for discernment to the authenticity of identical statements!

To King, his friend and lieutenant, he lets the cat out of the bag. He thanks him for his warning anent Burr’s activities, and promises complacently that “a good use will be made of it in this State,” and in all the States to the south of New York.^[213]

Yet outwardly, Hamilton was seemingly on the friendliest of personal terms with Burr. And if Burr knew of the pernicious sniping against his character, he, too, made no sign. But slowly, with the inevitability of a Greek tragedy, the mills of the gods were grinding toward a predestined end.