Immediately after Colonel Burr's arrival in the city of New-York, he opened an office and commenced the practice of law. The high and distinguished reputation with which he had retired from the bar in 1801 secured to him, on his return, an extensive and profitable business. A few individuals of the profession, under the influence of former prejudices, some of them hereditary, and as ancient as the 4th of July, 1776, endeavoured to throw impediments in his way; but these efforts were of short duration, and productive of but little effect. In general, he was courteously, if not kindly received, by gentlemen of the profession. In reference to this subject it was his request, that while no individual should be censured, the name of his friend, Colonel Robert Troup, should be recorded as meriting and receiving his most grateful acknowledgments. It has been seen that their intimacy was formed while they were yet but boys, at a period and under circumstances "that tried men's souls." On Burr's opening his office, Colonel Troup, having abandoned the practice of law, generously tendered him the use of his library until it should be required for his (Troup's) own son; which, to Burr, was a most acceptable kindness, as he was destitute of the means of supplying even his most pressing wants. His prospects, for the moment, were cheering and auspicious. But they were soon "o'er-clouded with wo."

In his daughter (Mrs. Alston) and her son were centred all his hopes, all his affections, all the ties that bound him to this life. The following appears to have been the first letter, after his arrival in the United States, that Burr received from his son-in-law Alston.

FROM JOSEPH ALSTON.

July 26, 1812.

A few miserable weeks since, my dear sir, and in spite of all the embarrassments, the troubles, and disappointments which have fallen to our lot since we parted, I would have congratulated you on your return in the language of happiness. With my wife on one side and my boy on the other, I felt myself superior to depression. The present was enjoyed, the future was anticipated with enthusiasm. One dreadful blow has destroyed us; reduced us to the veriest, the most sublimated wretchedness. That boy, on whom all rested; our companion, our friend—he who was to have transmitted down the mingled blood of Theodosia and myself—he who was to have redeemed all your glory, and shed new lustre upon our families—that boy, at once our happiness and our pride, is taken from us—is dead. We saw him dead. My own hand surrendered him to the grave; yet we are alive. But it is past. I will not conceal from you that life is a burden, which, heavy as it is, we shall both support, if not with dignity, at least with decency and firmness. Theodosia has endured all that a human being could endure; but her admirable mind will triumph. She supports herself in a manner worthy of your daughter.

We have not yet been able to form any definite plan of life. My present wish is that Theodosia should join you, with or without me, as soon as possible. My command here, as brigadier-general, embarrasses me a good deal in the disposal of myself. I would part with Theodosia reluctantly; but if I find myself detained here, I shall certainly do so. I not only recognise your claim to her after such a separation, but change of scene and your society will aid her, I am conscious, in recovering at least that tone of mind which we are destined to carry through life with us.

I have great anxiety to be employed against Quebec, should an army be ordered thither, and have letters prepared asking of the president a brigade in that army. From the support which that request will have, if not obtained now, I doubt not it will be at the first increase of the military force, which, if the war be seriously carried on, must be as soon as Congress meet. Then, be the event what it may, I shall at least gain something. Adieu.

Yours, with respect and regard,

JOSEPH ALSTON.

The effect upon Burr of this blow may be imagined by those who have noticed his constant and unceasing anxiety for his grandson, Aaron Burr Alston. In his intercourse, however, with the world, and in his business pursuits, there was a promptitude and an apparent cheerfulness which seemed to indicate a tranquillity of mind. But not so in his lone and solitary hours. When in the society of a single friend, if an accidental reference was made to the event, the manly tear would be seen slowly stealing down his furrowed cheek, until, as if awakening from a slumber, he would suddenly check those emotions of the heart, and all would again become subdued, calm, dignified.

During this autumn (1812) Theodosia's health continued to be precarious. Deep-settled grief, in addition to her protracted disease, was rapidly wasting her away. She continued to correspond with her father; but at length, in November, it was determined that she should join him in New-York. A few short extracts of letters will unfold and close this melancholy tale.

FROM TIMOTHY GREEN.

Charleston, S. C., December 7, 1812.

I arrived here from New-York on the 28th ult., and on the 29th started for Columbia. Mr. Alston seemed rather hurt that you should conceive it necessary to send a person here, as he or one of his brothers would attend Mrs. Alston to New-York. I told him you had some opinion of my medical talents; that you had learned your daughter was in a low state of health, and required unusual attention, and medical attention on her voyage; that I had torn myself from my family to perform this service for my friend. He said that he was inclined to charter a vessel to take her on. I informed him that I should return to Charleston, where I should remain a day or two, and then proceed to Georgetown (S. C.) and wait his arrival.

Georgetown, S. C., December 22, 1812.

I have engaged a passage to New-York for your daughter in a pilot-boat that has been out privateering, but has come in here, and is refitting merely to get to New-York. My only fears are that Governor Alston may think the mode of conveyance too undignified, and object to it; but Mrs. Alston is fully bent on going. You must not be surprised to see her very low, feeble, and emaciated. Her complaint is an almost incessant nervous fever. We shall sail in about eight days.

TIMOTHY GREEN.

FROM JOSEPH ALSTON TO THEODOSIA.

Columbia, S. C., January 15, 1813.

Another mail, and still no letter! I hear, too, rumours of a gale off Cape Hatteras the beginning of the month! The state of my mind is dreadful. Let no man, wretched as he may be, presume to think himself beyond the reach of another blow. I shall count the hours till noon to-morrow. If I do not hear then, there will be no hope till Tuesday. To feelings like mine, what an interval! May God grant me one word from you to-morrow. Adieu. All that I have left of heart is yours. All my prayers are for your safety and well-being.

January 19, 1813.

Forebodings! wretched, heart-rending forebodings distract my mind. I may no longer have a wife; and yet my impatient restlessness addresses her a letter. To-morrow will be three weeks since our separation, and not yet one line. Gracious God! for what am I reserved?

JOSEPH ALSTON.

FROM JOSEPH ALSTON TO COL. BURR.

Columbia, January 19, 1813.

To-morrow will be three weeks since, in obedience to your wishes, Theodosia left me. It is three weeks, and not yet one line from her. My mind is tortured. I wrote you on the 29th ult., the day before Theo. sailed, that on the next day she would embark in the privateer Patriot, a pilot-boat-built schooner, commanded by Captain Overstocks, with an old New-York pilot as sailing-master. The vessel had dismissed her crew, and was returning home with her guns under deck. Her reputed swiftness in sailing inspired such confidence of a voyage of not more than five or six days, that the three weeks without a letter fill me with an unhappiness—a wretchedness I can neither describe nor conquer. Gracious God! Is my wife, too, taken from me? I do not know why I write, but I feel that I am miserable.

Charleston, January 31, 1813.

A call of business to this place for a few days occasioned your letter of the 20th not to be received till this morning. Not a moment is lost in replying to it. Yet wherefore? You ask of me to relieve your suspense. Alas! it was to you I looked for similar relief. I have written you twice since my letter of December 29. I can add nothing to the information then given. I parted with our Theo. near the bar about noon on Thursday, the last of December. The wind was moderate and fair. She was in the pilot-boat-built schooner Patriot, Captain Overstocks, with an experienced New-York pilot, Coon, as sailing-master. This vessel, the same which had been sent by government last summer in pursuit of Commodore Rodgers's squadron, had been selected as one which, from her reputed excellence and swiftness in sailing, would ensure a passage of not more than five or six days. From that moment I have heard nothing of the schooner nor my wife. I have been the prey of feelings which you only can imagine. When I turned from the grave of my boy I deemed myself no longer vulnerable. Misfortune had no more a blow for me. I was wrong. It is true, I no longer feel, I never shall feel as I was wont; but I have been taught that there was still one being in whom I was inexpressibly interested. I have in vain endeavoured to build upon the hope of long passage. Thirty days are decisive. My wife is either captured or lost. What a destiny is mine! and I live under it, engage in business, appear to the world as though all was tranquil, easy. 'Tis so, but it cannot endure. A short time since, and the idea of capture would have been the source of painful, terrible apprehension; it now furnishes me the only ray of comfort, or rather of hope, that I have. Each mail is anticipated with impatient, yet fearful and appalling anxiety. Should you hear aught relative to the object of this our common solicitude, do not, I pray, forget me.

JOSEPH ALSTON.

FROM JOSEPH ALSTON.

February 25, 1813.

Your letter of the 10th, my friend, is received. This assurance of my fate was not wanting. Authentic accounts from Bermuda and Nassau, as late as January 30, connected with your letter from New-York of the 28th, had already forced upon me the dreadful conviction that we had no more to hope. Without this victim, too, the desolation would not have been complete. My boy—my wife—gone, both! This, then, is the end of all the hopes we had formed. You may well observe that you feel severed from the human race. She was the last tie that bound us to the species. What have we left? In surviving the 30th of June [1] I thought I could meet all other afflictions with ease, yet I have staggered under this in a manner that I am glad had not a witness. Your letter of January 28 was not received till February 9. The Oaks, for some months visited only at intervals, when the feelings the world thought gone by were not to be controlled, was the asylum I sought. It was there, in the chamber of my wife, where every thing was disposed as usual; with the clothes, the books, the play-things of my boy around me, that I sustained this second shock, doubled in a manner that I could not account for. My son seemed to have been reanimated, to have been restored to me, and to have just perished again with his mother. It was the loss of both pressing upon me at the same moment.

Should it be my misfortune to live a Century, the 30th of June and the 10th of February are so impressed upon my mind that they will always seem to have just passed. I visited the grave of my boy. The little plans we had all three formed rushed upon my memory. Where now was the boy? The mother I cherished with so much pride? I felt like the very spirit of desolation. If it had not been for a kind of stupefaction and confusion of mind which followed, God knows how I should have borne it. Oh, my friend, if there be such a thing as the sublime of misery, it is for us that it has been reserved.

You are the only person in the world with whom I can commune on this subject; for you are the only person whose feelings can have any community with mine. You knew those we loved. With you, therefore, it will be no weakness to feel their loss. Here, none knew them; none valued them as they deserved. The talents of my boy, his rare elevation of character, his already extensive reputation for so early an age, made his death regretted by the pride of my family; but, though certain of the loss of my not less admirable wife, they seem to consider it like the loss of an ordinary woman. Alas! they know nothing of my heart. They never have known any thing of it. Yet, after all, he is a poor actor who cannot sustain his little hour upon the stage, be his part what it may. But the man who has been deemed worthy of the heart of Theodosia Burr, and who has felt what it was to be blessed with such a woman's, will never forget his elevation.

JOSEPH ALSTON.

This distressing correspondence between Colonel Burr and Governor Alston was continued during the year 1813; but the unfortunate Theodosia was never again heard of, except in idle rumours and exaggerated tales of her capture and murder by pirates. These reports, it is believed, were without foundation. The schooner on board which she had taken passage probably foundered, and every soul perished in a heavy gale which was experienced along our whole coast a few days after her departure from Georgetown.

Colonel Burr, on his return to the United States, mingled but little in society. He only knew those who first recognised him. In the ordinary conflicts of the political parties of the day he seemed to feel but little interest, and rarely interfered. From them he sought neither honour nor emolument. He pursued his profession, however, with great ardour and some success; but was continually embarrassed, and sometimes experienced great difficulty from the pressure of his old debts. The following extract will afford some general idea of his situation.

TO JOSEPH ALSTON.

New-York, October 16, 1815.

I have found it so difficult to answer that part of your letter which regards myself and my concerns, that it has been deferred, though often in my mind. At some other time I may give you, in detail, a sketch of the sad period which has elapsed since my return. For the present, it will suffice to say that my business affords me a decent support. If I had not been interrupted in the career which I began, I should, before this, have paid all my debts and been at ease.

My old creditors (principally the holders of the Mexican debts) came upon me last winter with vindictive fury. I was held to bail in large sums, and saw no probability of keeping out of prison for six months. This danger is still menacing, but not quite so imminent. I shall neither borrow nor receive from any one, not even from you. I have determined not to begin to pay unless I see a prospect of paying all.

A. BURR.

When any great political question agitated the country, such as a presidential election, Mr. Burr seemed to feel it his duty to express his opinion to those whom he supposed confided in his discernment or his patriotism. On these occasions he spake with great freedom and boldness. Many of his letters exhibit all that sagacity and talent for which he was so pre-eminently distinguished. It has been seen by the extract from Blennerhassett's private journal, that he did not complain in 1807 of any act done by General Andrew Jackson. The following will show that he remained under the influence of similar feelings in 1815.

TO GOVERNOR JOSEPH ALSTON.

New-York, November 20, 1815.

A congressional caucus will, in the course of the ensuing month, nominate James Monroe for President of the United States, and will call on all good republicans to support the nomination.

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.

I have often heard your opinion of these congressional nominations. They are hostile to all freedom and independence of suffrage. A certain junto of actual and factitious Virginians, having had possession of the government for twenty-four years, consider the United States as their property, and, by bawling "Support the Administration," have so long succeeded in duping the republican public. One of their principal arts, and which has been systematically taught by Jefferson, is that of promoting state dissensions, not between republican and federal—that would do them no good—but schisms in the republican party. By looking round you will see how the attention of leading men in the different states has thus been turned from general and state politics. Let not this disgraceful domination continue.

Independently of the manner of the nomination and the location of the candidate, the man himself is one of the most improper and incompetent that could be selected. Naturally dull and stupid; extremely illiterate; indecisive to a degree that would be incredible to one who did not know him; pusillanimous, and, of course, hypocritical; has no opinion on any subject, and will be always under the government of the worst men; pretends, as I am told, to some knowledge of military matters, but never commanded a platoon, nor was ever fit to command one. "He served in the Revolutionary War!"—that is, he acted a short time as aid-de-camp to Lord Stirling, who was regularly ********. Monroe's whole duty was to fill his lordship's tankard, and hear, with indications of admiration, his lordship's long stories about himself. Such is Monroe's military experience. I was with my regiment in the same division at the time. As a lawyer, Monroe was far below mediocrity.

He never rose to the honour of trying a cause of the value of a hundred pounds. This is a character exactly suited to the views of the Virginia junto.

To this junto you have twice sacrificed yourself, and what have you got by it? Their hatred and abhorrence. Did you ever know them to countenance a man of talents and independence? Never—nor ever will.

It is time that you manifested that you had some individual character; some opinion of your own; some influence to support that opinion. Make them fear you, and they will be at your feet. Thus far they have reason to believe that you fear them.

The moment is extremely auspicious for breaking down this degrading system. The best citizens of our country acknowledge the feebleness of our administration. They acknowledge that offices are bestowed merely to preserve power, and without the smallest regard to fitness. If, then, 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. Nothing is wanting but a respectable nomination, made before the proclamation of the Virginia caucus, and Jackson's success is inevitable.

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. Whether a formal and open nomination should now be made, or whether you should, for the present, content yourself with barely denouncing, by a joint resolution of both houses of your legislature, congressional caucuses and nominations, you only can judge. One consideration inclines me to hesitate about the policy of a present nomination. It is this—that Jackson ought first to be admonished to be passive: for, the moment he shall be announced as a candidate, he will be assailed by the Virginia junto with menaces, and with insidious promises of boons and favours. There is danger that Jackson might be wrought upon by such practices. If an open nomination be made, an express should be instantly sent to him.

This suggestion has not arisen from any exclusive attachment to Jackson. The object is to break down this vile combination which rules and degrades the United States. If you should think that any other man could be held up with better prospect of success, name that man. I know of no such. But the business must be accomplished, and on this occasion, and by you. So long as the present system prevails, you will be struggling against wind and tide to preserve a precarious influence. You will never be forgiven for the crime of having talents and independence.

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.

I have talked of this matter to your late secretary, but he has not seen this letter.

A. BURR.

Your secretary was to have delivered this personally, but has changed his course on hearing that Jackson is on his way to Washington. If you should have any confidential friend among the members of Congress from your state, charge him to caution Jackson against the perfidious caresses with which he will be overwhelmed at Washington.

A. B.

New-York, December 11, 1815.

A copy of the preceding went under cover to Dr. Wragg. Since that date things are wonderfully advanced, as your secretary will write or tell you. These will require a written message (letter) from yourself and others (or yourself alone, but three names would look more formal), advising Jackson what is doing; that communications have been had with the Northern states, requiring him only to be passive, and asking from him a list of persons in the Western states to whom you may address your letters.

A. BURR.

FROM JOSEPH ALSTON.

Charleston, February 16, 1816.

Your letter of the 20th of November, entrusted to Mr. Phillips, was received through the postoffice about the middle of last month. It was, of course, too late, had circumstances been ever so favourable, to be acted upon in the manner proposed. Had it even been received, however, in due season, it would have found me utterly incapable of exertion. On my way to Columbia, in November, I had another severe attack of illness, which rendered absolutely impracticable either the immediate prosecution of my journey or my attendance during the session of the legislature. As soon as I was able to bear the motion of a carriage, I was brought by short stages to this place, where I have been confined ever since. Yesterday was the first time for two months that I have been out of the house. So much for the miserable remnant of myself.

With regard to the subject of your letter of the 20th of November, I fully coincide with you in sentiment; but the spirit, the energy, the health necessary to give practical effect to sentiment, are all gone. I feel too much alone, too entirely unconnected with the world, to take much interest in any thing. Yet, without the smallest solicitude about the result, I shall certainly not fail to discharge my public duty, whenever the opportunity occurs, by giving a very strong and frank expression of my opinion on the subject suggested.

Vanderlyn, I perceive from the papers, has returned to New-York. Nothing, I trust, has prevented his bringing back the portrait [2] you left with him. Let me again entreat you to use your influence with him in procuring me a good copy. I received some days since, through the kindness of Mr. John B. Prevost, a miniature, which appears to have been taken from Vanderlyn's portrait. The execution is good, but in expression it is by no means equal to the portrait. There was a small portrait of Natalie which you took with you, of which, if Vanderlyn embraces that kind of painting in his present plan, I should be glad also to obtain of him a copy. The original picture, I think, was the best portrait I ever saw.

Yours affectionately,

JOSEPH ALSTON.

In this depressed state of mind and debilitated state of body Governor Alston remained until summer, when he died. Whatever may have been appearances to the contrary, it is highly probable that, after the death of his son and wife, he never enjoyed happiness. Their loss continually preyed upon him. To Colonel Burr, and, it would seem, to him alone, he unbosomed himself. All his letters breathe a deep and settled gloom, bordering on despondency—a gloom which time could not subdue or change.

FROM WILLIAM A. ALSTON.

Rosehill, near Georgetown, October 4, 1916.

SIR,

It was enjoined on me, and my brother John A. Alston, verbally, by our late brother Joseph Alston, to send a certain trunk to you, which he never had the courage to open, containing, as he said, some things that belonged to your daughter Theodosia; and to send a certain collection of other articles (of dress, I believe), that had also been hers, to the eldest daughter of Mr. J. B. Prevost. Pray point you out the way, sir, in which our trust is to be executed.

In his will, of which a copy shall be sent you if desired, my brother has given all demands up to you that he had against you. Very respectfully,

WILLIAM A. ALSTON.

P. S. These are alone the words relating to you in the will: "To my father-in-law, Aaron Burr, I give, devise, and bequeath all demands I may have against him, whether by judgment or otherwise."

The trunk and other articles above referred to were subsequently transmitted to Colonel Burr. Among the private papers of Theodosia there are some fragments and scraps of much interest. In the summer of 1805 she was dangerously ill, and she appears, from the following letter, to have been greatly depressed in mind.

FROM THEODOSIA TO JOSEPH ALSTON.

August 6, 1805.

Whether it is the effect of extreme debility and disordered nerves, or whether it is really presentiment, the existence of which I have been often told of, and always doubted, I cannot tell; but something whispers me that my end approaches. In vain I reason with myself; in vain I occupy my mind, and seek to fix my attention on other subjects ; there is about me that dreadful heaviness and sinking of the heart, that awful foreboding, of which it is impossible to divest myself. Perhaps I am now standing on the brink of eternity; and, ere I plunge in the fearful abyss, I have some few requests to make.

I wish your sisters (one of them, it is immaterial which) would select from my clothes certain things which they will easily perceive belonged to my mother. These, with whatever lace they find in a large trunk in a garret-room of the Oaks house, added to a little satinwood box (the largest, and having a lock and key), and a black satin embroidered box, with a pincushion; all these things I wish they would put together in one trunk, and send them to Frederic, with the enclosed letter. I prefer him, because Bartow's wife would have little respect for what, however trifling it may appear, I nevertheless deem sacred.

I beg Sister Maria will accept of my watch-ring. She will find a locket which she gave me, containing the hair of her mother; she had better take it. If the lace in my wardrobe at the Oaks will be of any use to Charlotte, I beg she will take it, or any thing else she wishes. My heart is with those dear amiable sisters, to give them something worth preserving in recollection of me; but they know that a warm friendship is all I have to give.

Return to mamma the eagle she gave me. Should an opportunity to Catharine Brown ever occur, send her a pearl necklace, a small diamond ring, a little pair of coral tablets, which are among my trinkets at the Oaks. I pray you, my dear husband, send Bartow's daughter some present for me, and to himself and Frederic a lock of my hair. Return Natalie the little desk she gave me, accompanied by assurances of my affectionate recollection, and a ring of my hair. Remember me to Sally, who is truly amiable, and whom I sincerely esteem.

I beg, also, you will write immediately to New-York, for warding some money for the comfortable support of Peggy until my father can provide for her. Do not permit grief at the loss of me to render you forgetful of this, for the poor creature may expire of want in the mean time. I beg this may be attended to without delay.

To you, my beloved, I leave our child; the child of my bosom, who was once a part of myself, and from whom I shall shortly be separated by the cold grave. You love him now; henceforth love him for me also. And oh, my husband, attend to this last prayer of a doting mother. Never, never listen to what any other person tells you of him. Be yourself his judge on all occasions. He has faults; see them, and correct them yourself. Desist not an instant from your endeavours to secure his confidence. It is a work which requires as much uniformity of conduct as warmth of affection towards him. I know, my beloved, that you can perceive what is right on this subject as on every other. But recollect, these are the last words I can ever utter. It will tranquillize my last moments to have disburdened myself of them.

I fear you will scarcely be able to read this scrawl, but I feel hurried and agitated. Death is not welcome to me. I confess it is ever dreaded. You have made me too fond of life. Adieu, then, thou kind, thou tender husband. Adieu, friend of my heart. May Heaven prosper you, and may we meet hereafter. Adieu; perhaps we may never see each other again in this world. You are away, I wished to hold you fast, and prevented you from going this morning. But He who is wisdom itself ordains events; we must submit to them. Least of all should I murmur. I, on whom so many blessings have been showered—whose days have been numbered by bounties—who have had such a husband, such a child, and such a father. Oh pardon me, my God, if I regret leaving these. I resign myself. Adieu, once more, and for the last time, my beloved. Speak of me often to our son. Let him love the memory of his mother, and let him know how he was loved by her. Your wife, your fond wife,

THEO.

Let my father see my son sometimes. Do not be unkind towards him whom I have loved so much, I beseech you. Burn all my papers except my father's letters, which I beg you to return him. Adieu, my sweet boy. Love your father; be grateful and affectionate to him while he lives; be the pride of his meridian, the support of his departing days. Be all that he wishes; for he made your mother happy. Oh! my heavenly Father, bless them both. If it is permitted, I will hover round you, and guard you, and intercede for you. I hope for happiness in the next world, for I have not been bad in this.

I had nearly forgotten to say that I charge you not to allow me to be stripped and washed, as is usual. I am pure enough thus to return to dust. Why, then, expose my person? Pray see to this. If it does not appear contradictory or silly, I beg to be kept as long as possible before I am consigned to the earth.

[Directed—"My husband. To be delivered after my death. I wish this to be read immediately, and before my burial."]

Although Colonel Burr seldom interfered in the politics of his own country, yet he continued to feel a deep and abiding interest in the emancipation of South America. He was constantly projecting some measure which in his opinion was calculated to promote this object. He encouraged the friends of freedom in that benighted land. He corresponded with those who were connected with any enterprise favouring the revolution, and consulted and advised with all who visited the United States, and sought his advice on the subject. The following letter will show the wishes of distinguished Mexicans in the year 1816.

FROM GENERAL TOLEDO.

TRANSLATION.

New-York, September 20, 1816.

Sir,

Although I have not the honour of knowing you personally, the reputation of your talents and good wishes for the cause of America have made your name familiar among us; and since this will dispense the accustomed forms of introduction, I dare present to your consideration the actual state of our revolution, our evils, and the remedies which we believe may be applied to them.

It is six years since that, almost simultaneously, the standard of liberty was raised by different provinces of Spanish America, and the cry of independence was heard from the territory of Mexico to the extremities of Chili. The inhabitants, determined to resist their European oppressors, formed themselves in groups under the name of armies, and placed at the head of them persons of the first reputation. Hundreds of battles have been fought, decided solely by dint of valour, without the assistance of military art or skill; the youth and most illustrious families have been sacrificed, and even entire populations have disappeared in a struggle so just, but unfortunately conducted with inaptitude or marked with cruelty.

I, among others, have been honoured with the confidence of the command of the Mexican troops; and at the close of so many sacrifices we have only come to a knowledge of the character of the people and of ourselves. Both are well disposed, and there is only wanting, to complete our wishes, that these dispositions be directed with calculation and wisdom for the public good.

My voyage to this country has for its object not only to obtain the means for continuing the war, but to seek the person best capable of employing them. This is the desire of that people; and I can assure you that their wish and mine would be satisfied at the same time, if we should have the fortune of your assuming the management of our political and military affairs in the dangerous crisis in which we find ourselves.

I hope that, in behalf of the cause of America and of humanity, you will accept this offer, which I have the honour to make you in the name of that people, and

I am, sir,

With the greatest respect and consideration,

Yours,

JOSE ALVAREZ DE TOLEDO.

The invitation of General Toledo was not accepted. Colonel Burr, however, continued to act with his accustomed zeal in behalf of the South American patriots; and in 1819 the Republic of Venezuela granted him the following commission:—

TRANSLATION.

Republic of Venezuela, Palace of the Governor, Angostura, October 9, 1819.

John Baptiste Arismendi, of the Order of Liberators,

Captain-general of the Armies, and Vice-president of the State, &c., &c., &c.

Whereas Aaron Burr, citizen of the United States of North America, has proved, to the satisfaction of this government, his ardent love for the cause of liberty and independence, and his desire to be actively employed in its service, as one most worthy of a freeman and a philanthropist, and most glorious for an American who has fought for the rights of his native land:

Therefore, in compliance with his (noble) praiseworthy wishes, and in fulfilment of a duty imposed upon me by the absence of the president of the republic in the territory of New Grenada, and impressed with the necessity of rendering assistance to all other countries of South America and Mexico now contending against the civil and religious tyranny of the Spanish government,

I hereby authorize the above-named Aaron Burr (without violation of established laws and customs) to raise troops for sea and land service, to aid this government or any other now struggling in the same cause against the despotism of Spain; provided that, in thus contending against the common enemy, he conform to established ordinances, the laws of nations, and the acknowledged usages among countries that aspire to emancipation and liberty.

And I declare that, it not being possible to organize gratuitously naval or land expeditions in all parts of the country, the property taken from the enemy being insufficient to defray the expenses, this republic and any other that may be benefited or assisted by the said Aaron Burr shall hold their funds responsible for any debts contracted by him in the premises.

Therefore, that he may proceed with that order which the exigence of the case requires, the "commissioned" (A. B.) shall render an account, and advise of all contracts entered into by him in the fulfilment of his commission, in order that they may be examined and approved in anticipation (of payment). But it will be understood that the government is unable at this time to pay its troops regularly; and the latter will not be justified in relying on any thing more than a bare subsistence or an occasional provision, more or less, according to circumstances. This notice to be given to all enlisting under his banners. This measure is rendered necessary, lest the good faith of the government should be compromised. An account of all military stipends will be kept by the government, that they may be liquidated in proportion to the increase of its resources. The republic exacts this service only during the continuance of the war. At its termination each soldier shall receive as a bounty a landed estate of the value of five hundred dollars; and all officers shall be paid in proportion, in conformity with the provisions of the law, or the decree for the division of national property, in addition to the personal rights with which the gratitude of Venezuela constitutionally recognises the services performed in its cause.

And that the above-named Aaron Burr may legally exert himself in favour of the emancipation and liberty of Venezuela and New Grenada, and all other countries of South America and Mexico now contending against the arbitrary and oppressive power of Spain, without in any manner giving offence to friendly or neutral powers, so long as they shall preserve their amity and neutrality, I grant to him this commission, signed with my hand, sealed with the provisional seal of the republic, and countersigned by the secretary of state and foreign affairs, in the place, day, month, and year above named.

J. BAPTISTE ARISMENDI.

(Seal)

JUAN G. ROSCW, Secretary of State and F.A.

It was thus that Colonel Burr was employed after his return from Europe until near the close of his life. During his leisure hours, if any such he had, his mind was occupied for several years in directing the education of two young ladies (Misses Eden) who were his wards, and for whom, in a protracted lawsuit, he had recovered a valuable estate. His regular and constant correspondence with these ladies, pointing out their errors, their improvements, and the studies which they were to pursue from day to day, was to them invaluable, and well calculated to "teach the young idea how to shoot." Copies of these letters are preserved, and it was originally intended to have published portions of them in this work, but no space remains. They would form a pleasing and interesting treatise on female education.

Although Colonel Burr's pecuniary means were limited, yet he was not destitute. He had an annual income of a few hundred dollars, in addition to his half-pay as a colonel in the revolutionary army. For two or three years before his death he suffered under the effects of a paralysis. Much of the time he was in a measure helpless, so far as locomotion was concerned. His general health, however, was tolerably good, by using great precaution in his diet. He had long abstained from the use of either tea or coffee as affecting his nervous system. His mind retained much of its vigour, and his memory, as to events of long standing, seemed to be unimpaired. Few octogenarians had as little of what is termed the garrulity of age as Colonel Burr. He never was a great talker, and in the decline of life retained much of that dignified sedateness which had characterized his meridian. When visited by strangers he received them with courtesy, unless his pride became awakened by a suspicion that the visit was one of idle or impertinent curiosity. On such occasions his manner was formal, cold, repulsive. Under sufferings of body or mind he seldom complained; but, during the last year of his life, he became more restive and impatient. The friends of his youth had gone before him. All the ties of consanguinity which could operate in uniting him to the world were severed asunder. To him there remained no brother, no sister, no child, no lineal descendant. He had numbered four-score years, and was incapable, from disease, of moving abroad, or even dressing himself. He therefore became restless, and seemed anxious for the arrival of the hour when his eyes should be closed in everlasting sleep. At length that hour came, and his mortal career terminated without a struggle on Wednesday, the 14th of September, 1836, in the eighty-first year of his age, on Staten Island, Richmond county, state of New-York, whither he had been removed for the benefit of pure air during the warm season. In conformity with his wish, his body was removed to Princeton, New-Jersey. The New-York Courier and Enquirer of the 19th of September gives the following account of his funeral.

From the Courier and Enquirer.

"On Friday morning, the 16th of September, the body of the late Colonel Aaron Burr was put on board a steamboat at Staten Island, and conveyed, with a number of his friends and relatives, from New-York to Amboy. Here it, with the followers, was received by the railroad cars and taken to Hightstown, nine miles from Princeton. A hearse and carriage having been previously prepared, the remains, with the friends of the departed, proceeded immediately to Princeton College, where the body was deposited until the hour of interment should arrive—half past three o'clock.

"At the appointed hour, the professors, collegians, and citizens having assembled, the ceremony commenced by a prayer to the Throne of Grace. It was succeeded by a most eloquent, appropriate, and judicious sermon, delivered by the president of the college; after which the procession was formed on the college green, and proceeded to the burying-ground under an escort of the military, accompanied by martial music. He was interred with the honours of war. The firing over the grave was performed by a well-disciplined infantry corps, designated as the Mercer Guards. The professors and students of the college, and some of the clergy and citizens, united with the relatives and friends of the deceased in the procession.

"The interment was in the college burying-place, near the tombs of his ancestors, in his native state, under the superintendence of the fathers of that seat of learning where the budding of his mighty mind first displayed itself, where it was cultivated and matured, and where the foundation was laid for those intellectual endowments which he afterward exhibited on the great theatre of life. He has shed a halo of literary glory around Nassau Hall. Through a long pilgrimage he loved her as the disciplinarian of his youthful mind. He vaunted that he was one of her earliest and most attached sons. He joyed in her success and sorrowed in her misfortunes. In this her last act of respect to his memory, she has repaid those kind feelings in which he indulged during a long life; and heartless must be the friend of the deceased who remembers not with gratitude this testimony of regard for the giant mind of him who must fill a large space in the history of his country. Peace be to his manes."

Extract from the Minutes of the Cliosophic Society.

"The Cliosophic Society having this morning received the mournful intelligence of the decease of Colonel Aaron Burr, formerly Vice-president of the United States, an eminent member, and one of the founders of our institution, would, in consideration of his eminence and talents, as well as the zeal with which he has promoted the interests of our association, pay to his memory a tribute of respect expressive of our admiration of his greatness and regret at his demise. Be it therefore

"Resolved, That the efforts of this individual in behalf of our society during her infant struggle, and the affectionate interest which he has at all times manifested for her success, claim from us an expression of condolence for his loss and gratitude for his services.

"2d. That the whole society follow his remains to the grave as mourners.

"3d. That, as a feeble testimony of our respect, the members wear crape on the left arm for the space of thirty days.

"4th. That these resolutions be published in the Princeton Whig, New-York Courier and Enquirer, New-York Gazette, Commercial Advertiser, United States Gazette, and United States Telegraph."

Footnotes:

1. The day on which his son died.

2. The portrait of Theodosia.