Republican Herald

From the Philadelphia Mercury.

AARON BURR.—The great stress laid by the Editor of the Literary Subaltern upon the genius and talents of Burr, appears to us entirely unwarranted by any thing that this ambitious man has ever performed. Of his written works, as a statesman, we know of none that can exalt him to fame, or preserve him to posterity:—Of his political acts, there are surely none, which denote vast scope, or uncommon vigour of intellect; or, those who are foremost to applaud him, would be the first to adduce them. His admirers never mention but two eras of his life, that have made him memorable—his election as Vice-President, and his expedition that eventuated in his accusation, and trial for treason.

What great measures of public utility he ever devised, or executed, to raise him to the first, we have never heard; and therefore conclude, that he rose by the mere force of party organization, personal address, and tact at intrigue: all of which are conceded to him, and none of which imply, or generally accompany great genius, or resplendent talents. His western expedition, manifests no extraordinary endowments. It is said, that he was so sagacious, as to shun any overt act of treason; but it still remains in doubt, or is rather generally disbelieved, that he ever intended to commit it; therefore, there can be no merit in concealing what did not exist.

In regard to the obloquy that covers his name, we have always understood it to arise more from his intrigues to usurp the Presidency, than his hypothetical attempt to sever the Union. The Editor of the Subaltern seems to infer his talents, from his having gained a name: but he surely forgets, that his notoriety has been more caused by his crimes, than by his genius.

Mr. Burr has committed three deeds, any one of which is sufficient to damn to everlasting fame an honorable man—First, his Intrigue on the Presidency—Second, his MURDER of HAMILTON—Third, his SUSPECTED treason! Take away these three actions from the life of Aaron Burr, and where is his name—his renown—his suppositious greatness? But the writer mistakes infamy for glory, and to insult the unanimous verdict of the world, has certainly consigned Aaron Burr. We say not this, because we have any feeling that could persecute a fallen or an unfortunate man! God forbid that we should ever add a pang to the rent heart, or gall the bitterness of misery which is engendered by calamity. But every American owes it to his country, and its Constitution—to the rights of the people—and the duration of the republic, to withhold all reverence, respect, aye, even compassion, from such a man as Aaron Burr. His very infamy, attended with the notoriety of his name, presents a dangerous example to ambitious men of unsettled principles, or limited talents; which are more generally the attendants of ambition, than originality of genius, or fire of intellect. It cannot be questioned, that the love of glory, is a very distinct passion from ambition, and it is certain, that the former never could have driven Colonel Burr to perpetrate the crimes that have tracked his public career.

Cæsar was first by the love of glory, blended with the lust of ambition; but Sylla was wholly a prey to the latter, and never felt the divine impulse of the former; nor did Marius, Cromwell or Wolsey. The love of glory makes great men—the lust of ambition creates infamous ones. No doubt but Nero had as strong a passion for notoriety, as Brutus had for pure fame. The most glorious are not always the most celebrated men, nor are the greatest always the most known. We hear little said in praise of Aurelian, or of him, who resigned the splendour of power, for the cultivation of his garden: and while we know, or hear nothing of Mahomet the 2d, we are never tired of repeating the dull tale of that imbecile monster, Constantine the Great.

The difference between the two passions is so great, that while mere ambition seldom or never remains in obscurity, the love of true glory as often leaves its possessors in the shade of oblivion, as it ushers him into the blaze of renown. No one acquainted with Aaron Burr can for a moment be deluded with the idea that he ever felt the ennobling impulse of the pure love of glory. Goaded on by the lust of ambition, his aim was notoriety, and whoever stood in his way, he mowed down by the bullet, or the bravado. In Rome he would have been a Marius, or a Sylla: in the United States, he was something less in mischief, because our republic was free, and our people virtuous; but he was equal in notoriety, and will be as everlasting in opprobrium.

The Editor of the Subaltern lays much emphasis on the eye, and other features of Colonel Burr; but his eyes particularly, he affirms, indicates "rare and stupendous genius." It is a pity we have nothing but his eye, in support of the fact. This method of estimating distinguished men, has grown too stale and puerile to be longer tolerated; it is a notion unworthy of the learned, and no longer to be tolerated in the ignorant. Physiology teaches us, that the eye of man is in its nature brilliant and piercing—and that the most sound state of bodily health, will generally induce the greatest lustre in the eye:—nor is it possible at all times to distinguish between the splendid eye of a fool, and that of a wit. The finest eyes we have ever seen graced the shallowest heads.—But the eye in conjunction with the forehead, often indicates the character of intelligence that belongs to the man. The eye of intellect is not the most glossy, nor the most handsome, nor the most intelligent: it can only be distinguished from the mere animal eye, by much observation, experience, and tact. Of the energy of Burr's character, no one can doubt, and his eye naturally expresses that energy; but it is gross hyperbole to say, that it indicates "rare and stupendous genius."

The contrast between the father of Colonel Burr and General Hull, is like all contrasts; but it conveys no argument, and involves no principle. Because Hull was a convicted traitor, and escaped ignominious punishment, is no reason why Burr ought to be restored to the honours of an unblighted name, because he was acquitted of treason. To come under such potential suspicion of treason, as to lead to an arraignment and trial, is enough to place Burr where he now is, were he guilty of no other crime; but when the other acts which we have already enumerated, are brought into the account, the verdict of the public must be admitted as sanctified by justice and righteousness. If the cry is for mercy, that presents a new question, against which argument and reason cannot raise their voice. Let Burr have all the mercy he can get; we are not of those who would plant another thorn in the unquiet pillow that sustains his aged head—and this is mercy—but justice to millions, born and unborn, demands, that his crimes should not be palliated into virtues, nor his ambition extenuated by such examples as Caesar and Cromwell, Catiline and Cato—examples without being parallels, and which never identify character, or approximate principles.

A curiosity to pry into, and become acquainted with the personal peculiarities of the great, is a laudable and natural desire of the mind; and the dress and deportment of Burr might be deemed fit subjects for the pen of the historian, if his name was embellished by the virtues of Washington, and his character presented a model for the imitation of the age, or the emulation of posterity. But as he is, without one great deed to grace his name, one good act, or one wise measure, to bless his life, or enrich his reputation, we may be allowed to doubt, if this pompous exhibition of the spirit of Mahomet, is calculated to make the world better, wiser, or happier.

We think the talent of Burr consisted in the influence of personal fascination of manners, address, and conversation. He could only sway the minds of men by coming in contact with them. Some may think it a great talent; and properly directed, it might have led to grand results; but it manifestly implies no grandeur of conception, profoundness of thought, or originality of genius.

The domestic afflictions of all men, even such a man as Burr, are sacred; but let not the voice of compassion be used to disguise the tone of adulation. Why the writer should have used the term "Roman father," when speaking of his fondness for his daughter, we cannot divine, unless it was intended to elevate Burr from his present degradation. The Romans were not more dotingly attached to their children, than the people of other nations. Had he proved himself equal to a Roman citizen, we might excuse the term as applied to the father;—but in the case of Aaron Burr, the epithet wears too much of the aspect of an advocate, who attempts by plausible arts, to convert crimes to misfortunes, and dignify an outcast with the virtuous sorrow peculiar to the patriot. Ever sacred be his afflictions. As a man, we could give him the tear of sympathy, and the condolement of congenial weakness—but as Aaron Burr, the Roman father never can apply to him who was not a Roman citizen.

Burr may have smarted under his injuries, and suffered under his wrongs; as who has not? But this circumstance cannot mitigate his errors, or atone for his guilt;—and while we are willing to concede to his apologist, the application of every argument that could soften his errors, and bloat his merits, we cannot but affirm, that he has omitted to state the only fact, that could redeem his name, and re-establish his character—it is this—that he is now engaged in works calculated to improve, enlighten, and benefit his country—that he is devoting his life to a task, that when published to the world, will prove his love of liberty, and repeal the foul slander that he ever could have cherished a design inimical to the Union, or incompatible with the rights and happiness of the people. We say his apologist has omitted to do this, and therefore his apology is fruitless, and we infer he is engaged in no such laudable undertaking.