Nassau Hall, at Princeton, was a man celebrated alike for his erudition, eloquence, and piety. His mother, the daughter of Jonathan Edwards, the distinguished New-England metaphysician and divine, was likewise well known as a woman of fine culture and deep, fervent piety. As the pious mother of Augustine, while he was yet an infidel in his principles, and a libertine in his conduct, wept bitter tears, and daily petitioned Heaven in behalf of her wayward son, so Mrs. Burr, though she lived hardly to hear her child lisp his mother tongue, prayed daily that, should God spare his life, he might be guided into all truth, and serve faithfully the God of his fathers. In after years, when his propensity for intrigue became notorious, he was often faithfully warned that he was a "child of many prayers," that the petitions of a pious mother to the throne of grace would yet "avail much," either for or against him. Of the natural guardianship and protection of both these parents he was deprived at the early age of twenty-eight months. His youth was spent in the family of Timothy Edwards, his maternal uncle. While here he used frequently "to manifest his impatience of wholesome restraint by taking his bit between his teeth, snapping his finger at the tutor in charge, and running away."

At the age of twelve he entered Princeton College. Though prepared to enter junior, in consideration of his youth, it is said, he was obliged to commence sophomore, a necessity to which he submitted with very bad grace. His time in college he devoted at first diligently to hard study, but subsequently more to desultory pursuits. He graduated, however, at the age of sixteen, receiving the highest academic honors which were in the hands of the faculty to bestow. Burr early formed many correct habits, both in regard to diet and intellectual labor, to which he firmly adhered through all his life. He never gambled, was never intemperate. Indeed to his severe regimen and regular habits in other respects, we feel warranted in attributing much of that physical and intellectual force which enabled him, during his protracted life, to endure such excessive fatigue of both body and mind.

During Burr's college course, a "revival of religion" occurred among the students. Young Burr was somewhat awakened, and went so far finally as to talk with his venerable president, Dr. Witherspoon, in relation to matters of religion, the revival then in progress, etc. Whereupon the reverend doctor assured him, that in his opinion it was not true rational religion, but fanaticism that was operating upon the minds of his friends. We never hear anything more of his inquiring "what he should do to be

saved."

We next find him spending some time by invitation with a friend of his father, the noted Dr. Bellamy, of Bethlehem, Conn., who, it appears, was anxious that, after the fashion of his antecedents, he should decide upon the ministry as his profession. After duly considering the matter, however, he came to the conclusion that he was possessed of none of the necessary "gifts and graces" to qualify him for, or lead him to suppose that he was "called” to, that important work. Another conclusion of no little importance he arrived at, also, during this sojourn with his venerable friend, and that was, to use his own language, "that the road to heaven was open alike to all," the Westminster Catechism, and the instructions of his revered friend, to the contrary notwithstanding. It seems that not even the iron logic of his distinguished ancestor was sufficient to satisfy his mind that God "chose whom he would to eternal life, and rejected whom he pleased, leaving them eternally to perish, and be everlastingly tormented in hell." His ingenuous mind revolted from an idea so odious and repulsive, so utterly repugnant to all his best moral instincts. In a word, he rejected, as he always maintained, after calm and full investigations, the Gospel according to Jonathan Edwards, rejected it completely and for

ever.

We next find him stopping with his brother-in-law, Judge Tappan Reeve, who had married his only sister, and studying constitutional history and military science. Burr seems to have been a natural born soldier. He always felt that he possessed not only the necessary genius and skill, but had pent up within him all the enthusiasm and ambition for military distinction necessary to insure success, did but circumstances occur favorable for his development in that direction. Nor had he long to wait. The shedding of his countrymen's blood just at this juncture, at Lexington, Concord, and Bunker's Hill, brought him at once from his retirement, from the companionship of his musty tomes, into the field of active duty. He felt that the time had now arrived for him to distinguish himself, "to make his mark." So, although only just entering his twentieth year, a mere stripling in appearance, at an age when most boys are just beginning to study in earnest, and to entertain some of the "self-respecting views of manhood," we find him tendering his services in defense of American liberty, and panting for glory upon the battle-field.

In July, 1775, he joined the army at Cambridge. Although at first disgusted with the want of discipline and good order that prevailed among the troops, we soon find him, in spite of the remonstrances of friends at home, leaving a sick-bed to accompany Gen

eral Arnold through the trackless, hideous wildernesses of Maine and Canada; traversing, late in the season, precipitous mountains, thick woods, deep and almost impenetrable swamps and morasses, on his famous but bootless expedition to Quebec. On this expedition Burr rendered signal service to Arnold, especially by proceeding in advance, although at the imminent hazard of his life, with a verbal communication from Arnold to Montgomery. This mission he so well and satisfactorily accomplished, that he was immediately appointed by General Montgomery as one of his aids, with the rank of captain. In this capacity he served, displaying astonishing skill and intrepidity, during that disastrous assault upon Quebec in which the brave Montgomery fell. Burr was within a few feet of the General when the latter was struck by the fatal shot. He caught him up in his arms, and, in a dying condition, bore him from the battle-field. It was quite enough for a youth of twenty, however ambitious for military distinction, to have it caught upon the breath of fame, and whispered through all the land, that he had sustained in his youthful arms the dying Montgomery. Indeed the éclat which he, yet a beardless youth, acquired first by this adventurous march through the trackless desert of our Northeastern wilds, but more especially by being known as the chivalrous aidde-camp whose arms supported the dying hero of Quebec, not less than his subsequent military exploits at Monmouth, Long Island, and Westchester, in all his after life gathered round him hosts of friends and admirers, and distinguished him as a man of no ordinary military prowess.

Soon after the death of General Montgomery, Burr was made brigade-major under Arnold. With him, however, he remained only a few months. Some, by the way, may be curious to know what was his estimation of Arnold. Concerning him he used to hold the following language: "Though amid the excitants of battle a madman, ready for any deed of valor, he has not yet a particle of moral courage, is utterly unprincipled, has no love of country nor self-respect to guide him, is not to be trusted anywhere but under the eye of a superior." Contrary to Arnold's express commands, he soon left him in Canada, and proceeded to New-York. Upon his return to this city, he at once received and accepted an invitation to become a member of Washington's military family. But so repugnant to his tastes were the orderly habits and cautious temperament of the wise chief, that they seemed to have filled him with profound disgust. Burr here, for some reason, contracted for the general a dislike which he never afterward overcame; while Washington, on the other hand, perceiving but too well Burr's want of high principle, very

naturally distrusted him from the very first, and never after could be induced to repose in him any great confidence, or intrust him with any high responsibility.

In the beginning of the next July he was appointed aid-de-camp to General Putnam, a rank with which he was better pleased. The distinguished part which Major Burr took, and the efficient services which he rendered in the retreat of our army under Washington, from Long Island and New-York, established his character for intrepidity and military skill. His gallant conduct at Monmouth, during which battle his horse was shot under him, rendered him no less conspicuous than it had before done at Quebec. Hereupon he is appointed lieutenant-colonel. We follow him next in his delicate and difficult command on the lines of Westchester; again as ordered by Baron DeKalb to West Point; as designated by Washington to take charge of the Tories in behalf of Governor Clinton, and so on from one important post of duty and labor to another, until at length his health gives way, his constitution is shattered, and he is forced to lay down his arms, to sheathe his sword, and abandon forever his hopes of military glory. The exposure and fatigue from which he suffered on the day and night of the battle of Monmouth, seriously impaired his health. He never fairly recovered from their effects. His medical and other friends, therefore, whose opinions he felt himself bound to respect, expressed it as their conviction that he could never endure the fatigues of another campaign. So on the 10th of March, 1779, at the age of twenty-three, having already won the reputation of being one of the most efficient and gallant officers of the American Revolution, he tendered his resignation to the commander-in-chief. In this connection it were proper enough to say, that though Washington manifestly considered Burr destitute of principle, he yet as evidently respected him as a soldier, gave repeated evidence of entire confidence in his gallantry, his persevering industry, his judgment, and his discretion.

Colonel Burr now returns to private life and the study of the law. After pursuing his studies one year only, he was admitted, though with much opposition, to the bar at Albany, at which place he commenced practice. On the ensuing 2d of July he was married to Mrs. Theodosia Prevost, widow of General Prevost, of the British army, a very intelligent and accomplished lady. Up to this point, it may be well to state in passing, Mr. Parton expresses it as his opinion that Colonel Burr "had not been profligate, had not yet had one amour of a criminal kind, nor incurred an obligation which he had not discharged."

As soon as peace was declared he removed to New-York, where, by unremitted attention to business, he soon found himself crowded with clients, accumulating property, and taking the lead in his profession. His remarkable success and rapid elevation as a professional man, no doubt, were owing, in part at least, to the favorable auspices under which he commenced his practice in New-York. It was just at the close of the Revolution. Tory lawyers were put under the "ban of the empire," while the Whigs, of course, were exalted, in point of privilege, in a corresponding degree. He was, moreover, descended from a family, the prestige of whose name had its influence in bringing him into notice. He had retired from the army with distinguished honor; these, united with talents which alone would have signalized him under any circumstances, combined to bring him at once prominently before the public, and enable him to take rank among the first lawyers of his day. His time was now divided only between his profession and his beautiful home at Richmond Hill. Indeed his beloved wife, his idol of a daughter, and his many friends, now engross a no small share of his thoughts. No man seemed to cherish warmer domestic attachments, to be more devotedly, fondly attached to his family than Aaron Burr. "The letters that passed between himself and wife, after they had been several years married, read like the passionate outpouring of Italian lovers in the first month of their betrothal." But in an especial manner was he devotedly fond of his daughter. However lost he might have become in his subsequent life, to all that was loyal or holy; "however poor, bereaved, contemned he may have been, with the penalties of debt and treason hanging over his head, and himself an outlaw and fugitive in the earth, one holy, loyal sentiment lingered in his perverted soul; love for the fair, gifted, gentle being who called him father. In his later life the only disinterested sympathy his letters breathe is for her. Indeed the feeling and sense of duty which they manifest, offer a remarkable contrast to the parallel record of a life of unprincipled schemes and heartless amours." Tradition says that this daughter was once complaining because she was not as pretty as some others. He reproved her gently, thus: "My daughter, would you become more beautiful, seek, then, sweetness of temper, a tender, loving heart; let thus a beautiful spirit inform those features, and you will possess a beauty the power of which is infinitely beyond that which you now covet." She afterward became not only a cultivated and accomplished lady in the fashionable sense, but a woman of true refinement, possessing many and rare virtues, and beauty besides. Yet how deep is our regret, that in teaching his gifted child so much, he yet taught FOURTH SERIES, VOL. X.-26 ·