good reason to know Burr. He declared in private conversation, and the
remark speedily became public property, that he looked upon Burr as a
dangerous man who ought not to be trusted with the reins of government.
He pleaded with New York Federalists not to commit the fatal blunder of
endorsing Burr in caucus, and he finally won his point; but he could not
prevent his partisans from supporting Burr at the polls.

The defeat of Burr dashed the hopes of the Federalists of New England;
the bubble of a Northern Confederacy vanished. It dashed also Burr's
personal ambitions: he could no longer hope for political rehabilitation
in New York. And the man who a second time had crossed his path and
thwarted his purposes was his old rival, Alexander Hamilton. It is said
that Burr was not naturally vindictive: perhaps no man is naturally
vindictive. Certain it is that bitter disappointment had now made Burr
what Hamilton had called him--"a dangerous man." He took the common
course of men of honor at this time; he demanded prompt and unqualified
acknowledgment or denial of the expression. Well aware of what lay
behind this demand, Hamilton replied deliberately with half-conciliatory
words, but he ended with the usual words of those prepared to accept
a challenge, "I can only regret the circumstance, and must abide the
consequences." A challenge followed. We are told that Hamilton accepted
to save his political leadership and influence--strange illusion in one
so gifted! Yet public opinion had not yet condemned dueling, and men
must be judged against the background of their times.

On a summer morning (July 11, 1804) Burr and Hamilton crossed the Hudson
to Weehawken and there faced each other for the last time. Hamilton
withheld his fire; Burr aimed with murderous intent, and Hamilton fell
mortally wounded. The shot from Burr's pistol long reverberated. It woke
public conscience to the horror and uselessness of dueling, and left
Burr an outlaw from respectable society, stunned by the recoil, and
under indictment for murder. Only in the South and West did men treat
the incident lightly as an affair of honor.

The political career of Burr was now closed. When he again met the
Senate face to face, he had been dropped by his own party in favor of
George Clinton, to whom he surrendered the Vice-Presidency on March 5,
1805. His farewell address is described as one of the most affecting
ever spoken in the Senate. Describing the scene to his