ELIZA
JUMEL BURR, VICE QUEEN OF AMERICA
By Diana
Rubino
A true
rags-to-riches story: how “Bouncin’ Bet Bowen” George
Washington’s daughter, became Eliza Jumel Burr, wife of Vice
President Aaron Burr
and New York
City’s wealthiest woman
About our focus author:
My passion for history and
travel has taken me to every locale of my books and short stories,
set in Medieval and Renaissance England, Paris, Egypt, the
Mediterranean, colonial Virginia, New England, Washington D.C. and
New York. My urban fantasy romance, FAKIN’ IT, won a Top Pick award
from Romantic Times.
I’m a member of Romance Writers of America,
the Richard III Society and the Aaron Burr Association. My husband
Chris and I own CostPro, an engineering firm based in Boston. In my
spare time, I bicycle, golf, play my piano, devour books of any
genre, and spend as much time as possible living the dream on my
beloved Cape Cod.
Contact me at:
www.dianarubinoauthor.blogspot.com
How this book came about:
While researching
Hamilton, I became fascinated with his political nemesis Aaron Burr,
which led to Aaron's last wife Eliza Bowen Jumel. Only a handful of
biographies of her exist, so I learned as much as possible about her
from these books and other sources I found.
She came from the filthy
streets of Providence and wound up owning to the grandest mansion in
New York City, which has been Washington’s headquarters during the
Revolutionary War and is open to the public. The urchin Betsy Bowen
used her street smarts and business acumen to become Madame Eliza
Jumel Burr, Vice Queen of America. Her legacy lives on—in the
Morris Jumel Mansion of Washington Heights, where her spirit still
lingers, 147 years later.
During
her ninety-one years, she begged on the streets, sold her body,
married a rich man, married a former Vice President, and as New York
City’s grand dame, traveled Manhattan in the coach Napoleon
Bonaparte gave her.
Throughout
her adventurous and unconventional life, Eliza’s one regret was
that she could not publicly announce that George Washington was her
father. When Eliza was ten years old, her mother told her of
Washington’s visit to Providence. They spent one night together at
the home of Freelove Ballou, an aunt who later adopted Eliza. She was
born nine months later. Her many attempts to reach her father gained
her an invitation to Mount Vernon weeks before his death.
Eliza’s
love of make-believe brought her to Manhattan’s John Street
Theatre, where she played many leading roles. When the theatre was
bought by a speculator and torn down, she “made a living how I
could” – at the brothel of Manhattan madam Sally Marshall, whose
ladies entertained senators and other prominent figures.
Eliza
met the charismatic Aaron Burr when he became New York’s Attorney
General. While standing outside Federal Hall after President
Washington’s inauguration with her best friend Susannah Shippen,
she caught a flash of dark eyes that sparkled and caught the sunlight
like jewels. Susannah innocently introduced them, unaware of their
instant attraction.
Deeply
in love, Eliza wrote: “Colonel Aaron Burr appeared to me the
perfection of manhood personified. Wherever he went he was petted and
caressed by our sex. And yet, he never took advantage of his
position.”
Eliza
named her only son George Washington Bowen, believing Aaron was the
father.
While
Aaron climbed the political ladder on his way to the Vice Presidency,
Eliza met wealthy wine merchant Stephen Jumel, a native Frenchman.
Knowing Eliza’s heart belonged only to Aaron, he wooed her and
trusted her to invest his capital in Manhattan real estate. With her
shrewd negotiating skills and street smarts, they amassed an empire.
On
Eliza and Stephen’s first trip to France together, the fallen and
beaten Napoleon Bonaparte boarded Stephen’s brig the Eliza,
seeking an American
vessel to ensure his escape from the British.
Stephen, in all seriousness, offered the Emperor a wine barrel to
stow away in. The Emperor, haughtily put out when he realized Stephen
wasn’t joking, accepted Eliza’s invitation to hide in their New
York home, but never made it to the new world. However, he did give
Eliza his yellow coach and other costly gifts, now on display in the
Jumel Mansion. Stephen’s business connections
afforded him and Eliza introduction to the upper echelons of Paris
society. She met King Louis XVIII, but he shunned her begging to let
Stephen join court circles.
Back home, she resumed her
love affair with Aaron, whose wife Theodosia had died of cancer. He
was now Vice President, having lost the presidency to Thomas
Jefferson. Eliza asked him to marry her, but he turned down her
proposal. He just wasn’t ready for remarriage.
After the most famous duel
in American history, Aaron fled New York City while Alexander
Hamilton lay dying. When Hamilton died the next day, Aaron was
indicted for murder. After four frantic months, Eliza finally
received a letter from him, under
an assumed name, R. King.
Financed by his
son-in-law Joseph, he’d bought the rights to a half million acres
in the South. He planned to make it into a new state, settle it with
adventurous pioneer men, attract a slew of colonists and settlers,
and make himself Governor.
His next hurried
missive told her that he’d abandoned the entire plan. Why? He
didn’t say. But President Jefferson had filed a formal charge of
treason against Aaron. He was brought to Richmond, Virginia for
trial.
He’d gathered
so much support and adoration from Richmond, he was wined, dined and
acquitted, with his daughter at his side. He finally
returned to Eliza after finishing out his term as Vice President, but
soon sailed for England. Believing her life with him was over, she
dragged herself back to Stephen and proposed marriage to him—only
to be turned down once again. Determined to become Mrs. Jumel, she
faked her impending death with the help of a loyal servant, a bottle
of hot water to raise her temperature, and white powder to mimic
deathly pallor. She called her doctor and had a stable hand inform
Stephen that she was dying. When he rushed to her bedside, she begged
him, “Before I leave this world, it
would mean so much to me if I could leave as Mrs. Jumel.” He
summoned a priest and they were wed even before she received last
rites. But of course she made a miraculous ‘recovery’ and once
again, returned to her wheeling and dealing.
While tending to his
farmlands, Stephen fell from a cart and died in Eliza’s arms two
days later. She was brought up on murder charges which were dropped.
A despondent Eliza once again turned to her true love, Aaron, back in New York at his
law practice. One
evening, Aaron showed up at her doorstep with a minister in tow, the
same Reverend Bogart who’d married him to his first wife Theodosia
fifty years before. He proposed to Eliza on bended knee: “I
give you my hand, Madame; my heart has long been yours.”
She finally
became Mrs. Burr at age 56. Aaron was a robust and youthful 78.
He
began to spend Eliza’s money recklessly, plowing through $13,000
within a few months. The bickering became grounds for divorce when a
maid caught him in a compromising position with another woman.
Brokenhearted, Eliza hired a lawyer Who
handled family matters—including divorces. Who was this lawyer?
Alexander Hamilton Jr. Aaron
received the final papers on September 14, 1836, and died later that
day.
Eliza
returned home to her family and lived another 29 years as Mrs. Burr,
the name she’d always longed for.
The
Morris-Jumel Mansion still stands in Harlem, New York City and is
open to the public.
Visit
the Morris-Jumel Mansion
Purchase Eliza Jumel
Burr, Vice Queen of the United States
****
An excerpt from Eliza
Jumel Burr, Vice Queen of the United States:
July
11, 1804, a day I’ll never forget, a Wednesday, I rose early from
fitful sleep. Two of my servants huddled in the kitchen, murmuring
instead of cooking. They held the newspaper wide open.
When I walked in, they froze as if turned to stone, and
held the paper out to me.
“What is it?” Without fresh coffee I was half-awake.
But seeing the paper, I trembled. My mouth dried up. “Oh, no …”
I hid my eyes with my hands, I couldn’t bear to look.
“M-Miss
Eliza …” Mary stammered. “Vice President Burr shot General
Hamilton in a duel.”
Too weak to stand, I grabbed a chair and sank into it.
“He … shot
Hamilton?” My head spun, dizzy with relief. But I still didn’t
know about Aaron. “Is he all right? The vice president?”
“We don’t know, ma’am. It just says General
Hamilton was mortally wounded.”
Without another word, I ran down the hall, threw open
the front door, not closing it behind me, and raced to Gold Street in
the gathering morning heat. Humidity soaked my clothes. I mopped
sweat from my face.
I banged on his door. No answer. “Aaron, open the
door, it’s me, please, we need to talk!” I banged again. Echoes
answered me. I stepped back and squinted into the sunlight, shading
my eyes to see the upper windows. Nothing stirred. The house was shut
tight. He’d fled. But where? When would I see my beloved again?
Hamilton died the next day, and the city fell to its
knees in mourning. It was even more pronounced than when Papa passed
– because Hamilton was one of New York’s own.
Public grief over Hamilton paled beside the anger at
Aaron. As I approached Trinity Church for the funeral, Gertrude’s
father Gouverneur Morris greeted me. “I’m to deliver the eulogy.
But indignation mounts to a frenzy already,” he cautioned me,
eyeing the mob.
The tolling church bells and muffled drumbeats echoed
through the sweltering city air. I thought of every place Aaron could
be. I knew he hadn’t meant for this to happen. It was a tragic
twist of fate. I also knew Aaron’s political career was over. He’d
never be president.
“Oh, Aaron,” I wailed, “Where are you, my love?”
****
I
heard nothing from him as each empty day slipped
away. Desperate, I wrote to his daughter Theodosia but received no
reply. I contacted his friends,
but no one knew his whereabouts.
I saw Mrs
Hamilton on Broad Way, head to toe in widow’s weeds. I wanted to
approach her and offer my condolences, but she knew I was intimate
with the vice president, so I kept my distance. Their country home,
The Grange, was not far from the Morris mansion I planned to buy.
We’d be neighbors someday.
****
Read
about my ‘ghostly’ visit to the Morris-Jumel Mansion on my blog
