CHAPTER XLIV

BURR, ADAMS, HAMILTON

AARON BURR quietly took his place as VicePresident, and made a model officer. Senators who had sat under John Adams must have felt refreshed by the change.

When General Washington became President, and Mr. Adams Vice-President, all was confusion, and modes of doing things had to be adopted before things themselves could be done. Here was infinite field for discussion and for display of knowledge of the ways of other peoples.

Whether the President and Vice-President were like Roman consuls, or Spartan kings, or Carthaginian suffetes, Mr. Adams did not know for certain; but he was anxious to find out, and more than willing to talk about it from the chair. “I am possessed of two separate powers; the one in esse, the other in posse. I am Vice-President. In this I am nothing, but may be everything. But I am also President of the Senate; what shall I do when President Washington comes? I can not be President then. No, gentlemen, I can not. I wish you gentlemen to think what I shall be."

With a confusion remotely resembling Ham

let's, Mr. Adams made earnest efforts to understand himself, locate himself, and adjust himself. In nearly every debate he took an active part. Senators who in the progress of their remarks went astray on matters of fact or argument he set right from the chair. Frequently he would address the Senate for nearly an hour at a time; and that day which passed without several speeches of varying lengths from Vice-President Adams was exceptional. A great stickler for forms, he was constantly telling the Senate how certain things were done in the House of Lords in England; and on the first address of Washington to Congress his clerk indorsed, with Adams's approval, the royal phrase "his gracious speech."

When it gradually dawned upon Mr. Adams that he and Washington were not to be treated as Roman consuls, Spartan kings, or Carthaginian suffetes his disgust grew apace-so much so that when Senator Maclay and others stoutly contended for the simple manners of democracy, Adams declared that had he known the American people would come to such a pass he would never have taken up arms against Great Britain.

Fussy, consequential, pompous, garrulous, without dignity of person or of manner, his face often expanded in a vacant laugh, John Adams was not the man to be imposing or impressive as a presiding officer over the Senate of the United States.

Jefferson had, of course, adopted a different standard when he came to preside over the Senate; and nothing more was heard of the consuls, the kings, or the suffetes. Romans, Grecians, and Carthaginians were suffered to rest in peace. The Vice-President no longer acted as schoolmaster for Senators. Under Jefferson's firm, gentle control, the Senate began to assume the character befitting the most responsible body in the New World.

Aaron Burr followed the example of Jefferson; and his conduct as President of the Senate compelled unstinted praise from friends and foes alike. He was a model of decorum, was rigidly impartial, and was conspicuously capable. When his term expired, he delivered a brief farewell address, which created a profound impression, and which even in the imperfect report handed down to us raises the speaker in the estimation of all who will read it.

The received opinion about Burr is that he was a political adventurer, without care or thought for the law, the country, and for the human race. In that connection, one paragraph in his short speech is very striking. "This House is a sanctuary; a citadel of law, and of liberty; and it is here it is here, in this exalted refuge-here, if anywhere, that resistance will be made to the storms of political frenzy and the silent arts of corruption. If the Constitution be destined to perish by the sacrilegious hands of the demagogue or the usurper, which God

avert, its expiring agonies will be witnessed on this floor."

Whatever else it may be, this is not the language nor the conception of a mere shallow trifler. Just as Patrick Henry had foreseen the centralizing principles in the new Constitution, Aaron Burr realized the predominant power of the United States Senate. In each case the prediction was that of the statesman, for the facts were not then so apparent. "Storms of political frenzy " was the one danger, "the silent arts of corruption" was the other. Anybody who now looks in upon the United States Senate and mentally extracts therefrom the representatives and beneficiaries of "the silent arts of corruption," will be in considerable doubt as to whether he has left a quorum to do business.

Dwarfing the House, overshadowing the Presi dent, the Senate governs the republic; and "the silent arts of corruption" govern the Senate.

With the election of Jefferson the career of Alexander Hamilton ended. This was not foreseen by him, nor was it realized by him until the masterful management which the Virginian displayed in his first administration had borne its fruit in his second, and almost unanimous, election. Not till then did Hamilton give up the ghost politically. So late as January, 1804, he seems to have nursed the

hope that Jefferson would do something very desperate, revolutionary, and anarchistic-something which would justify the Federalist predictions and rekindle the Federalist hopes. On Wednesday, January 18, 1804, we find the three eminent patriots of New York-Rufus King, Gouverneur Morris, and Alexander Hamilton-dining together at King's. These notable three were "alarmed at the conduct of our rulers, and think the Constitution is about to be overturned."

Hamilton and King "apprehend a bloody anarchy." Morris thinks that the Constitution has already been overturned. Anarchy is about to ensue in which property will be sacrificed. The only dif ference between those three New York patriots is that King and Hamilton believe there will be anarchy accompanied by bloodshed, while Morris thinks that the ruthless Jeffersonians will be content with the confiscation of houses, lands, mules, horses, cows, etc.

Indeed, Hamilton was at sea-adrift on the great ocean without compass or rudder. All his fine plans and schemes had failed. His party was dead, and about to be buried. He had lost the great Washington, who had been his shield. His own personal and political unpopularity now rested upon him with stifling weight. He was bankrupt in his finances. His tortuous intrigues with men and parties had raised up against him an army of venomous