On the last day of April, 1805, more than the usual number of guests
crowded the bar-room or lounged about the open door of the Green Tree,
a popular tavern on the bank of the Monongahela, in Pittsburg. The
proprietor had found difficulty in providing refreshment for the swarm
of hungry mechanics, farmers and boatmen who elbowed their way to a
seat at his famed dining-table. To the clatter of dishes was added the
clamor of voices making demands upon the decanters, which yielded an
inexhaustible supply of rum, whiskey and peach brandy.
In the throng of bar-room loafers was a swarthy boatman, wearing a
leathern waistcoat, who, on being jostled by a stalwart roysterer
carrying a long rifle, poured out curses and slang epithets, swearing
he could whip any man in the tavern or in the town. The challenge was
no sooner uttered than the offender for whom it was meant called out
to the landlord:
"Here, Billy, hold my shooter a minute until I pitch this Louisiana
rat into the river."
"Don't mind him, Mike; he's drunk."
"Drunk or sober," blustered the quarrelsome boatman, "I swear I can
whip the best man in Pittsburg or in Pennsylvania."
This sweeping defiance elicited laughter and derision.
"Give him the heft of your fist, Mike!" cried one.
"Bruise the snout of the Mississippi alligator!"
Thus incited, Mike Fink, the recognized champion of Pittsburg,
disposed of his rifle, doubled up his fists, and stood ready for
assault or defence.
"Fair fight or rough and tumble?" said he, appealing to the crowd.
"Fair fight," growled the boatman and tossed a fiery dram down his
gullet. But fair fight in the accepted sense of the phrase was
farthest from his intention. Quick as a flash, he drew from his belt a
dirk, and would have stabbed his antagonist, had not a bystander
seized his uplifted arm, while another wrenched the weapon from his
grasp. The ruffian's comrades hurried their dangerous leader from the
inn, and guided his steps to the river and aboard a large new flatboat
recently launched.
A flourish of bugle notes and the noise of wheels announced the
arrival of the mail-coach from the East. Everybody went out to hail
the lumbering vehicle, which, drawn by four horses, came bowling down
the road in a dust-cloud of glory. The driver cracked his whip with a
bang like a pistol-shot, and firmly holding in his left hand the four
long lines, brought his team to a sudden halt in front of the tavern.
Only two passengers alighted from the stage, clambering out at the
front, a mode of egress requiring agility to avoid awkward slips and
tumbles. The first to step down was a handsome young man, who held his
head proudly and looked about him with easy self-possession. A
fashionable suit of clothes and a hat in the latest Philadelphia style
proclaimed him a man of "quality." But aristocratic as were the mien
and attire of this fine gentleman, he ceased to be the chief object of
attention when his fellow-traveller emerged from the pent darkness of
the coach and sprang to the pavement.
Every eye fastened on the second stranger. His was an individuality
sure to command deference. Though of slight figure, he bore himself
with a lofty air, which lifted his stature and magnified its
proportions. Not one of those tarrying to behold the man could resist
the feeling that his was a dominating spirit, a will and personality
not to be ignored or slighted. A careful scanning of his externals
discovered that his form was symmetrical, though the head seemed
disproportionately large; the brow was high and sloping; the nose,
rather sharp; every curve of the mouth, clear cut and delicate; the
eyes, black, bright and piercing. Such was the man who, attired in a
suit of black broadcloth, with buff vest, ruffled shirt, and white
stock, and with hair tied in a modish queue, revealed himself to the
gaze of the throng in front of the Green Tree.
The spectators observed as he descended from the coach that his feet
were small, and were fitted to a nicety with polished boots of the
finest leather. No amount of gaping, gazing and inquisitive side
remark embarrassed the newcomer. Perhaps his dark eyes emitted a
sparkle of gratified vanity as he glanced about him, distributing a
gracious bow among his unknown fellow-citizens. Addressing the
innkeeper, he asked:
"Can you inform us whether Judge Brackenridge is in town?"
"Yes, sir; we are going that way," politely replied a stripling, who
stepped forward, followed by another youth with a law book under his
arm. "This is Harry Brackenridge, the judge's son."
"Surely? and your name is--?"
"Morgan Neville."
"Son of Colonel Presley Neville?"
"Yes, sir."
"Indeed! The particular friend of Lafayette." Young Neville blushed
with proud pleasure.
"Yes; father was his aide-de-camp."
"I know," said the stranger, smiling, as he turned to ask young
Brackenridge, "Is the judge at home?"
"We expect him home to-morrow from a trip to Washington College."
"Your new Western college, eh? Judge Brackenridge is a promoter of
learning and literature. Allow me to make you acquainted with Mr.
Arlington, of Virginia." The Southerner saluted the students and,
inclining his head deferentially toward his travelling companion,
said:
"I have the honor of introducing you to Colonel Aaron Burr."
Diverse were the effects produced on the listening spectators by
Arlington's words. At the sound of the notorious name some shrank as
from the hiss of a coiled serpent. Others drew near, as if eager to
manifest partisan sympathy for the renowned leader, whose pistol had
ended the life of Alexander Hamilton ten months prior to the time of
this visit to Pittsburg. The unfledged lawyers whom his favor had
distinguished were of his faction. They manifested their fealty and
gladness with boyish exuberance, by delighted looks and words
expressive of esteem and reverence. Burr was importuned to dine at
their houses, but he excused himself on account of business affairs
which required prompt attention. However, he accepted an invitation to
visit Colonel Neville on the following day.
Dinner over, the newly arrived guests sought the general supply agent,
with whom Burr had contracted by letter for a boat, intending a voyage
down the Ohio. The vessel was ready and that very morning had been
brought from the shipyard to the landing.
"You will find her a first-class flatboat, Mr. Burr--strong and
tight--sixty foot long by fourteen wide--four first-rate rooms, and
as pretty a roof as you ever set foot on anywheres. There's a fellow
here from down Mississippi I've spoke to--a number one pole and a
letter A oar--Captain Burke Pierce by name--and he'll manage her for
you, Mr. Burr, and provide his own crew."
"Where can I find this Captain Pierce?"
"I'll take you to him right away. He's down on the boat now. A mighty
good hand is Burke, tough as a bull, swims like a muskrat, but he has
one failing--only one so far as I know--he will drink, and when he's
drunk he's vicious. But they all take their whiskey, these boatmen,
and so does almost every landsman, for that matter--and Pierce is no
worse than the rest. But here's the point: cap had a row at the
tavern, and his crew took him down to your boat to sober off."
"Why there?"
"Well, I thought you'd ask that. I gave them leave to go to your boat
out of regard to you. I told him if he'd whistle together five or six
experienced poles and a good cook, like as not you'd hire him to take
charge of her for you and steer her down the river; see to the
kitchen, beds and everything."
Inwardly remarking that the agent had presumed beyond his commission,
Burr was conducted to the boat, within which he found half a dozen
rough rivermen seated around a table, playing poker. Their redoubtable
chief rose with a civil salutation not to be expected from one of his
station. He was a stalwart fellow, of swarthy complexion and strongly
marked features. A broad yellow belt confining a leather doublet was
buckled around his waist; the legs of his coarse blue woollen trousers
were stuffed into the wide tops of heavy Suarrow boots, and his head
was covered by a broad hat, such as were worn by Spanish traders on
the lower Mississippi.
"That's your man; that's Burke; born and raised on a broad-horns.
Speak for yourself, cap; this is Mr. Burr, which I told you about."
The boatman spoke for himself in surprisingly good language, with an
air combining the bold and the obsequious. For a fixed sum, payable in
weekly instalments, he proposed to give his own services and to hire
the additional help necessary to navigate the boat, under the general
control of the owner. To this arrangement Burr finally agreed,
notwithstanding an instinctive repugnance which he had felt on first
seeing the letter A oar, who was tough as a bull and who had but one
failing. As the captain received in his palm an advance payment, he
called upon his men to witness the contract and to vouch for his
character, and pledged word and honor that, by six o'clock on the
evening of the following day, the boat would be in readiness for the
voyage.
Relieved of present care, Burr returned to the tavern, where many
citizens, incited by various motives, waited to pay him their
respects. The rumor of his arrival had spread over town, and
speculation was rife concerning his movements. What could be the noted
politician's object in coming to the West? Was he flying from
persecution? Could he be suffering remorse? Or was he merely making a
tour of observation for commercial reasons?
Burr's reticence gave little satisfaction to the busybodies who sought
by direct question to verify their several conjectures. All comers
were received with a hearty handshake and were entertained with urbane
speeches. Not the humblest caller was slighted. It was late in the
evening when, having affably gotten rid of his last visitor, Burr
proposed that he and Arlington should retire. They were well content
to make the best of the scanty accommodations of the one sleeping-room
to which they were both assigned.
After a disturbed night's rest Burr awoke early and called his
drowsing companion.
"Rouse up, Mr. Arlington. Shake off this downy sleep."
"Downy sleep!" answered the Virginian, yawning and stretching; "the
only down of this couch is shucks and corn-cobs."
The two men had scarcely finished breakfasting when a committee of
local officials called to invite them to see the sights of growing
Pittsburg.
The "Emporium," as the _Gazette_ called the town, had a population of
about two thousand. Most of the buildings were of logs; a few of stone
or brick.
Burr listened with every appearance of intense interest to animated
accounts of the academy, the old Dutch church, the ferries, the
shipping-yard, Suke's Run, and Smoky Island. The party sauntered along
muddy thoroughfares--Southfield Street and Chancery Lane. They
strolled through Strawberry Avenue and Virgin Alley. They viewed the
ruins of Fort Pitt, stood on the site of historic Du Quesne, and
paused to gaze up at the garrisoned post of La Fayette, over which
floated the flag of the Old Thirteen. During the tour Burr kept up a
sprightly conversation. His guides took pains, at his request, to
introduce to him the young men of Pittsburg, and those who had the
favor of being presented felt themselves enrolled among his devoted
adherents. He carried their hearts, not by storm, but by irresistible
sunshine.
At the appointed time the visitors were warmly welcomed at Colonel
Neville's, where they were gratified to meet Judge Brackenridge. The
four gentlemen spent an hour in lively political and military talk,
over a decanter of Madeira. Under the mellowing influence of wine and
good company, the judge, with Scotch curiosity, made bold to sound
Burr in regard to the purpose of his Western trip.
"We are going out West to witness the 'Rising Glory of America,'" was
the evasive answer. "I am eager to explore that domain of which the
author of 'Bunker Hill,' has sung so sublimely:
'Hail, happy land,
The seat of empire, the abode of kings,
The final stage, where time shall introduce
Renowned characters and glorious works.'"
Flattered to hear his own verse recited by the ex-Vice-president, the
judge returned a quick response:
"It is seldom that a poet lives to hear his own prophecies fulfilled.
The 'renowned characters' are entering upon the stage; I dare say the
'glorious works' will be accomplished according to prophecy."
The conversation returned to general themes: prospects of trade,
routes of migration, growth of western towns, literature, and
education. A passing comment on the recent purchase and organization
of Louisiana led Colonel Neville to ask:
"When did you last see your former comrade-in-arms, General
Wilkinson?"
"Not lately. I thought I might meet him here in Pittsburg. Is he not
due here?"
"Yes, he is on the way from Philadelphia, but he travels with his
family, and is liable to many detentions. His barge lies at the wharf,
to convey him to Fort Massac."
"So I learn," said Burr. "I fear I shall miss him. He is a jovial
companion."
"A bon-vivant," ejaculated the Judge. "Few men enjoy a convivial
occasion with his gusto, or have the constitution to indulge as he
does. Gossip charges him with living beyond his purse. Some
ill-natured rumors assert that he allows the rites of Bacchus to
interfere with the duties of Mars."
"Bacchus is a gross and vicious god. But your gossips traduce
Wilkinson. He is a brave man and a fine officer," said Burr with an
emphasis of finality.
"O undoubtedly! Apropos of the wine-god, Colonel Burr, do not fail to
tie up your boat at Bacchus Island, you and Mr. Arlington, and call on
my friends the Blennerhassetts. Harman Blennerhassett is an agreeable
man, though peculiar, and his wife is charming."
"A fine woman, is she?" responded Burr.
"Both beautiful and opulent. A sultana, sir!"
"Then, gentlemen," said Burr, rising with glass in hand, "let us do
ourselves the honor of drinking the health of Madam Blennerhassett."
When, at six o'clock in the evening, the travellers went down to the
boat, not a soul did they find on board. Seven o'clock came, but no
Captain Pierce, no minion of his. Burr made inquiry of the agent, the
tavern-keeper and others, without obtaining information concerning any
of the missing men.
Much incensed, he and Arlington were compelled to lodge another night
in the best bedchamber of the Green Tree.