"He was suddenly cut off in the forty-eighth year of his
age, in the full vigour of his faculties and in the midst of
all his usefulness."
The inquest which followed presented many and mixed views. Samuel
Lorenzo Knapp, writing in 1835, and evidently a somewhat prejudiced
friend, says that "the jury of inquest at last were reluctantly
dragooned into a return of murder."
Meanwhile, for eleven long black days, Burr stayed indoors at Richmond
Hill. He was afraid to go out, for he knew that popular feeling was,
in the main, against him. Dark times for the household gods! At last,
one starless, cloudy night, having heard of the murder verdict, he
stole away.
His faithful servant and friend, John Swartwout, went with him, and a
small barge lay waiting for him on the Hudson just below his Richmond
Hill estate, with a discreet crew. They rowed all night, and at
breakfast time, he turned up at the country place of Commodore
Truxton, at Perth Amboy.
Haggard and worn, he greeted his friend the Commodore with all his
usual _sang-froid_, and suggested nonchalantly that he had "spent the
night on the water, and a dish of coffee would not come amiss!"
He never went back to Richmond Hill to live again, though he later
returned to New York and dwelt there for many years.
Pages:
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143