When Power Goes Askew: Catiline and Aaron Burr

"Cicero Before the Senate (Denouncing Catalina)," 1912, by Hans W. Schmidt. 23 3/8 inches by 32 inches. (Public Domain)

In 1800, Alexander Hamilton wrote a private letter to Oliver Wolcott in anticipation of the upcoming presidential election. There he made a passing comment on Aaron Burr, who was Thomas Jefferson’s running mate: “He is truly the Catiline of America.”

Hamilton’s remark displays the intellectual depth that defined America’s Founding Fathers. A passing comment about Catiline—a shunned and controversial ancient Roman statesman—resonated with members of the American ruling class as it issued a sharp warning about Burr’s policies and persona.

Hamilton’s reference to Catiline reveals a crucial link between Roman and American history, and a timeless lesson about power in politics.

"The Oath of Catiline," 1809, by Joseph-Marie Vien. Oil on canvas; 60 1/3 inches by 73 1/3 inches. (Public Domain)

The Catilinian Conspiracy

Catiline was a Roman patrician. Unlike patricians of old, Catiline’s family didn’t enjoy a good reputation. Their finances had plummeted, and their status suffered as a consequence. The shrewd politician was determined to regain fame and wealth, so he set his eyes on the consulship.

The Roman Republic was governed by two Consuls per year. This system was designed to prevent draconian statesmen from accruing excessive power. It provided balance to the Republic, but it also incentivized continuous and often callous campaigns to win the vote.

Catiline ran for Consul in 64 B.C. He already had a reputation for ruthlessness. In a civil war that shook the Republic from 83 B.C.to 81 B.C., he had sided with the dictator Lucius Cornelius Sulla. As a lieutenant in Sulla’s high ranks, he confiscated properties illegally and even murdered some of his opponents.

When the votes were in, the first Consulship went to Gaius Antonius, an ally of Sulla and Catiline. To Catiline’s shock, the second seat went to Marcus Tullius Cicero, who would soon become his nemesis.

Anonymous bust of the Roman statesman Cicero. (Public Domain)

Vexed by his loss, Catiline ran again a year later. This time, he organized a coup. He made outlandish promises to his potential supporters and rallied an unofficial army to be used in case of a second defeat.

Cicero became aware of Catiline’s conspiracy to bypass the electoral process. In an epic exposition on Dec. 3, 63 B.C., he overwhelmed Catiline with a crushing volume of incriminating evidence. The punishment for plotting to usurp the throne was death.

Catiline escaped and retreated to northern Italy with what was left of his militia. The Senate pursued him. He evaded them successfully at first but was soon forced to face the Republic’s army. He died in battle, a hero to some, a power-hungry warmonger to others.

Despite the Roman republican system’s relative legal stability in the 1st century B.C., its reliance on raw military prowess enabled belligerent elites to unleash a series of destructive civil wars. Catiline’s was one of the most significant. Later depictions of his failed but well-organized coup warned wannabe villains and inspired aspiring dictators. Catiline’s thirst for glory could have been quenched more peaceably to avoid eroding Rome’s foundations. Yet, his greed prevailed.

"Cicero Denounces Catiline," 1880, by Cesare Maccari. Fresco. Palazzo Madama, Rome. (Public Domain)

The Great Duel in the Early American Republic

Alexander Hamilton was shot on July 11, 1804. His rival Aaron Burr had challenged him to a duel in response to public accusations and insults. The two met in Weehawken, New Jersey, with a group of supporters on each side. They both fired their pistols, but only one hit the target. Hamilton was wounded in the abdomen and died the following day.

Burr and Hamilton had been engaging in a series of public diatribes, not unlike Cicero and Catiline. Hamilton, who deeply respected the classics, thought of Catiline as the prototypical populist: a man who dazzled audiences with rhetorical promises but was ultimately concerned with little more than personal aggrandizement. He thought the same of Burr.

Hamilton thought Burr was one “who practices all the maxims of a Catiline, who, while despising, has played the whole game of, democracy.” He was convinced that “every step in Burr’s career proves that he has formed himself upon the model of Catiline, and he is too coldblooded and too determined a conspirator ever to change his plan.”

In 1800, Burr ran alongside Jefferson in the Democratic-Republican presidential ticket. At the time, the candidate with the most votes would become president, whereas the second-place candidate would serve as vice president. Burr and Jefferson tied for the presidency. As he sought support to swing a majority vote, Burr allegedly bribed a faction of Federalists and Democratic-Republicans to disavow Jefferson. Historians debate on the evidence of a willful “conspiracy” on Burr’s part. Nonetheless, his aggressive campaigns prompted Hamilton to respond equally forcefully.

Whether or not Hamilton was justified in describing Burr as the “modern Catiline” is unclear. His slander might have been hyperbolic for political reasons. What’s clear, however, is that Hamilton stood against what he perceived to be a threat to the newfound nation’s integrity. He looked to the past as a source of knowledge for present matters. He reflected on history, whose lessons could set the American Republic on its best course.

A Powerful Lesson About Power

Part of the explanation for the fall of Rome’s Republic lies in a decaying conception of power. Once Rome established an unrivaled dominion in the Mediterranean basin, its ruling class became complacent, hedonic, and despotic. As Josiah Osgood, author of “How to Stop a Conspiracy: An Ancient Guide to Saving a Republic,” put it: “Values became perverted: poverty was now considered a disgrace, virtue a weakness, integrity a form of nastiness to others.”

Influential figures like Catiline took advantage of Rome’s relative internal stability. Catiline became a politician not to serve Rome’s citizens, but to expand his wealth and accrue glory. His goal was power for power’s sake. The consequences? War and death.

Anonymous 1902 illustration depicting the duel between Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton, which occurred on July 11, 1804. (Public Domain)

A similar fate has threatened the United States at several junctions of its young but rich history. For one, the Founding Fathers didn’t need reminders of Catiline’s infamous legacy. At the time of the 1800 presidential election, they had barely severed themselves from a monarchy whose authoritarianism made them wary of power for power’s sake.

The American republic’s commitment to representative democracy and checks and balances, though imperfect, ensured stable transitions of power. Burr’s feud with Hamilton was settled with bullets, but it unfolded in a political environment that was far more regulated than its Roman counterpart. Yet, the echoes of history rang loudly in the 1800s, and they still ring true. Catiline’s story offers the same vivid, timeless lesson it offered Hamilton: When power pervades politics, a nation bears the consequences.

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