his mother's, uncompromising Puritanism. Death deprived him of both parents when he was very young. His unusually quick wit conspired with the fact of a considerable inheritance to render his childhood less disciplined than it should have been. One is tempted to believe that his early trend toward evil was at the outset only the revolt of childish, untrained logic against shams as he saw them in his elders and guardians. Being misunderstood, it quickly became the bravado of proud youth, and in manhood grew to larger villainies threatening to involve a continent.

At the age of sixteen he was leaving Princeton equipped with his diploma, disillusionment concerning his professors, and a precocious knowledge of dissipation. In some directions all he craved of the latter was knowledge. For instance, he never gambled after an early success at billiards. At seventeen he was deep in the study of theology, from which he soon emerged with the conviction that "the road to heaven is open to all alike," and thereafter shelved the matter as unprofitable for discussion.

His youthful ambition was military. The excitement, the sudden changes of fortune, and the opportunity it gave for indulging that bent toward mystery which he possessed-all this attracted him. Despite his refusal to follow up that first success at billiards, the game of war offered gambling on a scale grand enough to compel his interest. In his first campaign-with Arnold to Quebec in 1775he showed both audacity and bravery. He played the spy in priest's robes during the advance, and it was he who rescued Montgomery's body where it fell.

Like Hamilton, he became military aide to Washington, but the sober atmosphere of headquarters was not to his taste. The slow-moving rectitude of his chief's mind. reproached and irritated this descendant of Jonathan Edwards, whose rapier-like intellect was already turning to devious ways. The general was coldly unresponsive to the questions about military science that thronged to the younger man's lips,

and on his part he had no mind to remain a mere drudging clerk, as Washington seemed to expect. The relation soon came to an end, with resentment on the part of Burr, and on Washington's a distrust that after events failed to remove. Three times while he was President, Washington was waited upon by committees of Congress to urge Burr for the French mission, a suggestion he put aside with the remark that he had no confidence in the young man.

Burr's undeniable military genius was for small matters and sharp emergencies. He was blessed with a body needing little food and little sleep, while able to endure immense fatigue. He was a strict disciplinarian, had a power of detecting wrongdoers that bordered upon the miraculous, and in a crisis he could exercise an almost serpent-like fascination over untrained men, bringing them under perfect, if temporary, control.

His resignation from the army appears to mark the time when he definitely broke with the established code of morals. Until then he seemed, intermittently at least, to follow St. Paul's injunction to prove all things in a half-hearted hope of finding somewhere one "good" enough to claim and hold his loyalty. But he made his choice and cast adrift, with no rudder save ambition. "The adventure is the best of it all," he told a young acquaintance, speaking of life in general, and that came to be his guiding motto.

He established himself as a lawyer in New York State, where Hamilton was also practising; but his real interest was politics, law being only a tool to that end. Hamilton was diffuse and eloquent in argument; Burr chose to be concise and conversational. Hamilton was the heart and brains of Federalism; Burr aimed to become the leader of the Jeffersonian Republicans.

He saw the chances for political combinations latent in our form of government, and set himself to use them. An instrument lay ready to his hand in the benevolent and patriotic society started by Hamilton some years before to offset General Knox's well-meant blunder, the So

ciety of the Cincinnati, whose "aristocratic" tendency had set the country by the ears at the end of the Revolution. This younger organization had mouth-filling titles, Wiskenkee lodges, and sachems, grand, high, and plain, that fitted into his plans ideally. Its sub-title also, "The Columbian Order," suited him to perfection. To it and to politics he applied army principles, demanding perfect obedience from the rank and file, adding company drill in the form of committee rule, thus lodging power in a few capable, if not always scrupulous, hands, and started Tammany on its long and vigorous career. That Hamilton himself had been the founder made its deflection to Democratic uses all the more delightful.

By adroit management, by refusing to admit failure even when party fortunes were low, and by his hypnotic power over men, he became one of the most skilful, as he was one of the earliest, New York politicians in the unenviable sense of that word. He reached to within one vote of the Presidency, helping himself in the final climb by use of the injudicious pamphlet Hamilton wrote attacking John Adams. Hamilton thought Jefferson "an atheist in religion and a fanatic in politics," but of the two he vastly preferred him for President. Aside from personal prejudices, he pointed out that if Jefferson were elected, all responsibility for bad measures would rest with his party, while if the Federalists interfered and effected Burr's election, the whole responsibility would rest upon them.

Jefferson, on his part, was little drawn toward Burr. Hamilton, watching them, thought that there was "a most serious schism between the chief and his heirapparent." Yet they never quarreled. Burr dined at the White House when etiquette demanded, and also at the tables of the cabinet. His daughter became a general favorite in society; but on the whole he was a disturbing element in Washington, and more than one of the many duels of the period can be traced to his door, and he continued to lose in popularity. As the time for the next Presi

dential election approached he went to the President to learn his intentions. Jefferson replied coldly that he had not interfered in 1800 and did not mean to do so

now.

Months before the election Burr's evil genius settled the matter beyond recall. He and Hamilton had been singled out for antagonists from the beginning, and the story of their duel is too familiar to bear repetition. Hamilton's opinion that Burr was "in every sense a profligate” had been often repeated with details and amplifications. It is only astonishing that in a period of high feeling and strict adherence to "the code" their final encounter was so long delayed. Yet when Hamilton fell mortally wounded on that early July morning, his death seemed nothing short of a national calamity and Burr's act wilful murder. Men forgot the bitterness with which they had assailed Hamilton as a monarchist and an abettor of South American revolution. They remembered only his charming personality, the immense services he had rendered the country, and his magician's success in making a sound financial credit for the nation out of doubts and debts and an unexplored wilderness. "No one wished to get rid of Hamilton that way!" John Adams declared, shocked into sincere and regretful speech.

Burr returned to his home after the duel apparently unmoved. A kinsman arriving from a distance to breakfast with him had no inkling of what had occurred, and on resuming his journey could not credit the news, so sure was he from evidence of his own senses that it was a lie.

"The subject in dispute is, which shall have the honor of hanging the VicePresident?" Burr wrote his daughter, after the grand juries of both New York and New Jersey found indictments against him. Seeing that the storm of denunciation continued unabated, he left his house at night by water and disappeared for a time. But with the reopening of Congress he was on hand, took his seat as presiding officer of the Senate, and discharged his duties throughout the winter, though a

fugitive from justice and under indictment for a capital offense.

The fantastic situation reached its climax when it fell to his lot to conduct the impeachment trial of a justice of the Supreme Court before the Senate. The spectacle of this malefactor thus engaged must have caused laughter among the immortals. Mortals, however, were impressed, he bore himself with such dignity and composure. A reaction set in, and for a time the duel was almost forgotten in admiration of his conduct of the trial "with the impartiality of an angel and the vigor of a devil." For a moment this admiration changed to emotion, even to tears, when, two days before his term as Vice-President ended, he took leave of the Senate in a short speech grave to the point of coldness. "It was the solemnity, the anxiety, the expectation and the interest which I saw strongly painted on the countenances of the auditors that inspired whatever was said," he explained. "I neither shed tears nor assumed tenderness; but tears did flow abundantly."

Jefferson was undoubtedly glad to have him out of his official family. A VicePresident hanged for murder would not have been an edifying spectacle to present to the nations, but a Vice-President guilty and going unpunished was an object-lesson even less desirable.

A month later Burr went into the South. His errand is even yet a subject of doubt. In that day of slow and difficult communication his projects and his progress were shrouded in eloquent mystery. Yet he traveled in a state befitting one who had held high office. "My boat," he wrote his daughter, "is a floating house." And when he reached the rich and settled regions of the lower Mississippi, he chose his society with the regal assumption that he would be welcome. "During the residue of my voyage to New Orleans, about 300 miles, I shall take breakfast and dinner each day at the house of some gentleman on shore. I take no letters of introduction; but whenever I hear of any gentleman whose acquaintance or hospitality I should desire, I send word that I am

coming to see him, and have always met a most cordial reception."

To all these people he told variations of one story. To an angular major-general of Tennessee militia named Andrew Jackson, whom he visited at Nashville, he talked about Spanish aggression in the Southwest. For the benefit of Harman Blennerhasset, an excitable Irishman who lived with his young wife in a fool's paradise on an island near Marietta, Ohio, he hinted at interesting conspiracy. Το others he explained that his sole intention. was to buy and colonize a large tract known as the Bastop lands on the Washita River. To General Wilkinson, the highest military officer of the United States, and incidentally in the pay of Spain, he unfolded a scheme of a new Western empire made up of Mexico and the dissatisfied Southwestern States. He had known Wilkinson of old and did not overestimate his loyalty. To no one, however, did he commit himself definitely. Perhaps he had not mapped out, even in his own mind, the limit of his desires. He was an opportunist, with a leaning toward surprising coups, and in this first trip he may have been merely taking soundings, trusting to chance to determine the final out

come.

The throne of Montezuma is believed to have gleamed as his ultimate goal, and there are indications that his plottings began even before he left the Vice-Presidency-in fact, at the very time when he was impressing the country by his dignity in trying circumstances. If these suppositions be true, the scheme included such spectacular events as the capture of Washington, the kidnapping of President Jefferson, and tampering with the United States navy. The British minister at Washington averred that he dangled part of such a plot before his eyes, offering to put the new empire under protection of the British flag in return for help in taking New Orleans. But finding that his Majesty's home office refused to be dazzled, he turned with characteristic effrontery to Spain, attempting to get money with which to rob her of her own colonies.

With such unlikely foreign help, the aid of young and wealthy adventurers in the East and West, the active coöperation of General Wilkinson, the credit of the rich Allston family of South Carolina, into which his daughter had married, and last, but not least, assistance from the priests of Texas and Mexico, he would take his seat upon the throne, make his daughter chief lady of the empire, his son-in-law heir presumptive, Wilkinson general-inchief, and Blennerhasset minister to England. The scheme is as grotesque as any nightmare, and this final touch encourages the suspicion that Burr was playing upon personal vanity and enjoying his own sardonic joke. He was a knave, but no fool, and the idea of the gullible Blennerhasset in the rôle of ambassador to anything could never have entered a sane man's plans. But there was no harm in raising hopes; and he went his charming, insinuating way, scattering his poison and relishing the antics of his victims.

His desire for the help of the priests made necessary marked attentions to the Catholics of New Orleans. Always alive to the dramatic contrasts of his position, he set himself to win their favor with a keen delight in the situation. In view of his reputation as a libertine and his late prominence as a murderer, it especially pleased him to visit the chaste ladies of the Ursuline convent in company with the reverend bishop. He wrote his daughter a detailed and lively account of the visit.

We conversed at first through the gates; but presently I was admitted within, and I passed an hour with them, greatly to my satisfaction. None of that calm monotony which I expected. All was gaiety, wit, and sprightliness. Saint A. is a very accomplished lady. . . . All except two appear to be past thirty. They were dressed with perfect neatness, their veils thrown back. We had a repast of wine, fruit, and cakes. I was conducted to every part of the building. . . . At parting I asked them to remember me in their prayers, which they all promised with great promptness and courtesy-Saint A. with earnestness. . . . I will

ask Saint A. to pray for thee too. I believe much in the efficacy of her prayers.

Burr's vague hints met with astonishingly cordial response. One resident of New Orleans promised $50,000 toward the enterprise. But to rail at conditions in the exaggerated and sometimes profane manner of the Southwest was one thing; it was quite another to follow words with action. The American privilege of free speech, bought and paid for, was easy to exercise while Burr sat opposite, listening with the absorbed interest that was his subtlest flattery. But after the fumes of wine had passed and the hypnotic charm of Burr's presence was removed, it was a more serious matter to count the cost of treason.

Burr returned to the East, very possibly duped by the dupes he had made, a not uncommon form of auto-suggestion. August, 1806, saw him again journeying westward, this time accompanied by his daughter. But sane and loyal men had had time to rally, and seeing the connection between Burr's plot and old jealousies of East and West, as well as old border resentments still smoldering against France and Spain, they denounced him in the newspapers. A few of his partizans. were active. Blennerhasset set about a noisy attempt to raise a force of Ohioans, and Jackson, who should have seen under the tempter's mask by this time, called out the militia of western Tennessee, ready to invade either Florida or Mexico, though the United States was at peace with Spain. But even his impetuous eagerness could not overlook certain dark hints, and he demanded assurance of Burr's loyalty.

Society in the Southwest made much of the Burrs, but the authorities began to deal blow after blow. In Kentucky, Burr's name was twice presented to the grand jury for treason. Henry Clay, a young and already distinguished lawyer, acted as his counsel. Though successful in this case, a doubt lingered in Clay's own mind, and he, like Jackson, demanded a statement of intentions, which Burr cheerfully furnished. One after another

the men Burr had counted upon as supporters ranged themselves against him. General Wilkinson, having sounded his subordinate officers and found them hopelessly loyal, took the next logical step for a man of his caliber and turned informer. Jefferson, deeming the time ripe at last for Federal interference, issued a proclamation for Burr's arrest. He had been in possession of some facts and many suspicions as early as January, 1806, but thought the enterprise too fantastic for government action. "It is," he wrote, "the most extraordinary since the days of Don Quixote," "so extravagant that those who know his understanding would not believe it if the proofs admitted doubt." At that time he was inclined to leave it to be dealt with by the state authorities.

The President's proclamation was answered from all parts of the country by military organizations offering their services. The document itself, traveling westward from post to post, overtook Burr near Natchez as he was dropping down the Mississippi with the flotilla Blennerhasset had collected for him. These boats were supposed to contain settlers and supplies for the Bastop lands. Burr slipped his chests of arms overboard, surrendered gracefully to the acting governor of Mississippi, gave bonds, then vanished in disguise into the Indian country. A reward of two thousand dollars was offered for his capture, and a month later he was taken into custody near the Spanish border in Alabama.

On his arrival in Richmond, where the trial took place, he found himself overburdened with social attentions. He invited his daughter to visit him in jail.

friends and acquaintances of both sexes are permitted to visit me without interruption, without inquiring their business, and without the presence of a spy. It is well I have an antechamber or I should often be gêné with visitors. If you come I can give you a bedroom and parlor on this floor. The bedroom has three large closets and is a much more commodious one than you ever had in your life.

Released on bail, he accepted hospitality outside his hundred-foot suite, and ChiefJustice Marshall, who was to preside at the trial, found himself one day at the same dinner-table, to his manifest great embarrassment and the prisoner's covert glee.

The attention of the whole country centered upon Richmond, and the nation's most famous men crowded the courtroom; the younger aspirants to political honor eager to see and take note, the older men bringing with them their burden of experience and their personal liking or distrust. Witnesses were summoned from far and near, for, as Jefferson picturesquely expressed it, Burr's crimes had been "sown from Maine through the whole line of western waters to New Orleans." Andrew Jackson was one of these witnesses. If Chief-Justice Marshall had had his way, President Jefferson would have been another; but he refused to do more than send his papers. The right of a President of the United States to the custody of his own executive papers was a by-subject of discussion. Clad in black, with queue and powder, Burr was once more a model of correct dignity, and conducted his own case with consummate skill, the four eminent counsel he had retained being thrust quite into the background. The verdict of not guilty was reached after a trial lasting two weeks. It was proved that Burr had not waged war against the United States or adhered to its enemies, and that the levying of men that actually occurred had not taken place in the State where the trial was held. Politics, of course, entered into it at every It was claimed that the Federalists

turn.