On the morning after their provoking delay, when the travellers again
appeared at the boat landing, impatient to resume their voyage, Aaron
Burr was in a mood not to be trifled with. It scarcely mollified his
anger to discover on the deck of the boat the slippery crew that had
disappointed him.
"Here we are, sharp on time," bawled Captain Pierce audaciously. "How
soon do you want to start?"
Burr, stepping aboard the vessel, confronted his plausible employee,
and said in a tone of stern reprimand:
"You will be of no use to me unless you obey orders to the letter. You
make a bad beginning. Why were you not here twelve hours ago?"
"I didn't agree to shove off before this morning. We were to come at
six--"
"At six last evening. You broke your word."
"What was the use of lying?" said Arlington contemptuously.
The boatman lowered upon the Virginian, and muttered to Burr: "Then I
must have heard wrong. I thought you said six o'clock this morning.
I'll take my oath on a pile of Bibles."
"Produce the Bibles," suggested Arlington.
Burke ignored the sneering remark, and continued his protestations to
Burr. "I mean to do the fair, square thing, as these men will tell
you. Ask them. They know Burke Pierce keeps his promises."
"Enough; I hope you do. Don't disappoint me again. Put the boat in
motion."
Under the captain's directions, all the hands but one bestirred
themselves. The exception, a burly knot of muscles, with stubby beard
and purple nose, instead of joining in the work, stood idle, chewing
tobacco, ostentatiously. Without a word Burr stepped lightly in front
of the impudent roustabout, and, delivering a blow, with the dexterity
of an expert boxer, knocked him into the river, amid the jeers of his
associates, and of the concourse assembled on the shore to see the
boat off.
This prompt stroke of executive policy had a salutary effect.
Recalcitrant subjects had warning that the little man wearing the
queue and the small, shiny boots, could not be bluffed.
The boat, once in midstream, was easily managed by the use of long,
spiked poles, and, now and then, of an oar. The captain kept his
station at the stern of the uncouth craft, handling the steering-pole.
The two travellers, standing upon the roof of the ark, admired their
pilot's skill, and freely exchanged comments regarding him. To their
murmured conversation, the steersman seemed dumb, deaf and
indifferent; nevertheless, he gave the closest attention to every
word, and his sense of hearing was as keen as that of a wildcat.
The scenery along the upper Ohio River is pleasing in any season of
the year; no wonder that, in early May, the travellers were enchanted
by its picturesque beauty. To this day, in many places, the hills,
vales, and woods on either bank, retain almost the original wildness
of primeval Nature. The river winds among high limestone hills, which
are carved in frequent deep ravines, by tumbling brooks, or trickling
rills. Low, green islands rise magically upon the forward view of the
voyager, then vanish in the receding distance, like fairy worlds
withdrawn.
The real and the imaginary became strangely blended in Arlington's
mind. He could hardly distinguish the substantial from the visionary,
while he gazed on cloudlike bluffs in Ohio and dim highlands in
Virginia. The boat drifted on without sound or jar, and he easily
fancied himself at rest on a surface of water, while the woody shore
swam by in slow panorama.
Chester Arlington was the son of a wealthy citizen of Richmond, and a
graduate of the College of William and Mary. He had studied law, and
was beginning life on his own account. Entrusted with a commission to
collect some claims held by his father against a merchant in
Cincinnati, he was on his way to that metropolis of the Miami country.
His acquaintance with Burr dated from a day in the middle of April,
when the two got into the same coach to journey from Philadelphia to
Pittsburg. A difference of twenty-five years in their ages was
cancelled by the art, which the elder possessed, of maintaining
perpetual youth. And Burr's genial conversation won his companion's
confidence and friendship before they had crossed the Alleghanies.
Thus it came about, that the Virginian had been invited to share the
conveniences of the flatboat, a courtesy which he had accepted, on
condition that he might share the expenses.
Toward the close of the fourth day of the voyage, as the two sat on
the top of their drifting domicile, smoking cigars, they fell into a
discussion concerning the Great West, and the prospects of new States
and Territories.
"To me," said the Virginian, in the slightly florid style habitual to
him, "this wonderful new country into which we are sailing is
attractive beyond my power to express. This river, the Oyo of the
Indian, La Belle of the romantic La Salle, excites my imagination and
recalls interesting legends and historic facts. How many keels have
plowed these waters--the canoe of the Iroquois, the peroque of French
explorers, the batteau of early English traders, the boats of the
Spaniards coming up from the Gulf region."
"The boat of the Spaniard has not yet abandoned our western waters,
Mr. Arlington."
"No, not yet. Twenty years have not elapsed since the first white
settlement was made on the soil of Ohio, at Marietta, a town we are
now approaching."
The smokers lapsed into a silence of many minutes. Burr resumed
conversation abruptly:
"Arlington, you are not a Federalist?"
"Could you imagine that a son of my father, Major Arlington, would
hold the principles of Adams and Jay?"
"You are not, you say, an admirer of Adams, the arch-Federalist. Do
you worship his successor? Are you an unconditional Jeffersonian?"
"No, I am not. It seems to me that Jefferson aids the cause of
centralization, with the same motive that moved Adams, but with less
boldness. What do you think, Colonel Burr, of the temporizing policy
of the administration in regard to Spain?"
"In regard to Spain?" echoed Burr, blowing a ring of smoke from his
lips, "what do _you_ think, yourself?"
"I think it infamous! It disgraces this nation to submit to exactions
and insults from the Spaniards. Why don't the Government declare war,
and conquer Mexico?"
"Would you be in favor of that?" asked Burr, lightly touching the
ashes of his cigar with the tip of his little finger--so lightly that
the ashes did not fall.
"Would I be in favor of it? I am in favor of it. Are not you, Colonel
Burr?"
The politician again barely grazed the cylinder of white ashes with
his little finger.
"We must not be rash."
"I feel that I am rash to talk so positively, but how can there be a
difference of opinion on a subject like this? Why don't Congress
declare war?"
"Is it your belief that, if war were declared, there would be
difficulty in raising volunteers in Virginia?"
"Not the least. Thousands would enlist."
"Would you enlist, Mr. Arlington?"
"Yes, sir, I would."
Burr's little finger tapped the burnt out inch of his cigar, and the
frail ash fell, crumbling to fine powder, which the breeze bore away.
The touch recorded a point won.
"Suppose that Congress and the President, disregarding the wishes of
the people, and refusing to declare war, force the country to submit
tamely to the insults of Spain, do you think it possible that
independent men might take upon themselves the responsibility as a
private business enterprise, and march against the Dons in Mexico?"
After a thoughtful pause, the young man replied:
"Yes, some would. Many would. The warfare might not be regular, but,
in my view, the object would justify extraordinary means to a
patriotic end. What is your own feeling on that phase of the subject,
may I ask, colonel?"
"I wish to learn the sense of my fellow-citizens. You may express
yourself to me with perfect freedom."
"Why not? We are discussing a public question."
"Certainly. But your idea, that an expedition against Mexico,
conducted as a private enterprise, might prove popular and--"
"That is _your idea_, sir, not mine. However, I see no objection to
adopting it, providing the Government is in the secret, and tacitly
permits an expedition."
"Oh, surely! That is understood," responded Burr, and fell pondering.
With quick whiffs he revived the dying fire of his cigar, leaned back
in his chair, and lost himself in reverie. What were his meditations?
Perhaps he mused of the past, the half century of crowded events in
which he had borne a conspicuous part. Did his memory fly back to the
far off, sad days when, a lonesome orphan boy, in a Puritan school, he
penned sympathetic letters to his sister? Or was recollection busy
with the scenes of the Revolutionary War, in which he served his
country nobly and won proud laurels? He recalled his part in the march
to Canada and in the assault on Quebec, not forgetting his own heroic
exploit of carrying from the fatal field the body of his slain
general, Montgomery. He thought of the retreat from Long Island, and
of the credit he gained as aide-de-camp to Putnam; he retraced each
step in his military career, reflecting on his rise from the command
of a regiment to that of a brigade, remembering how his distinction as
a brave and able officer reached its culmination in the battle of
Monmouth. Perhaps, through his mind ran the events of his political
history, his transition from the field to the bar, thence to the State
Assembly of New York, to the Senate of the United States, and finally
to the Vice-Presidency.
These memories and a myriad more came thronging to his quickened
consciousness as he sat smoking. The retrospective visions rose before
him, not as vague memories--they seemed living realities as they
reproduced events more recent. At last one vivid picture--nay, was it
not an actual scene?--one set of vital images, usurped his brain and
would not vanish or fade. It showed a grassy ledge guarded by rocks
and forest growths, in a secluded spot overlooking the Hudson. There
stands himself confronting his political rival and partisan foe; the
figures speak and move; a ghastly tragedy is imminent. Yes,
imagination compels the repetition--the men are placed--Burr takes
deliberate aim, touches the trigger, the fatal bullet pierces
Hamilton's breast and the slain Federalist falls heavily, his face
upon the sward. But before he falls, his pistol, which he had resolved
not to fire, is accidentally discharged, sending its ball eight feet
over the head of his antagonist and cutting off a leafy twig from an
overhanging bough. Burr's attention is strangely affected by the fate
of the green branch which he heard the bullet sever, and, as he sees
it come wavering to the ground, he cannot resist the fancy that he
beholds an emblem of his own ruin--a symbol of his future self--a
living thing cut off from its nourishing stock as he was destined to
be from a nation's sympathy and support.
The gloomy retrospect, the dismal forecast, were too painful; by a
strong effort of the will, Burr strove to expunge the past and
illuminate the future. Rising, he took a brisk turn or two, pacing the
deck. His cigar had gone out; casting it into the river, he lit a
fresh one, and again sat down. The kindled roll diffused its searching
perfume and wrought a soothing change of mood. By some subtle chain of
new associations Burr was led to think of the words of Milton's hero
in _Paradise Lost_:
"The mind is its own place, and in itself
Can make a heaven of hell."
He puffed at the long cigar, and began to build a future out of
rolling smoke. Toppled fortunes may be rebuilt; lost reputation may be
retrieved. There are new worlds to discover, to conquer, and to
possess. What may not be achieved by genius and courage? What to
undertake, what to dare and do! Shall he span the Ohio with a bridge,
and dig a canal around the falls? Would he find success by settling in
some rising city of the West, and resuming the practice of law? Or
might he not reasonably hope to be returned to Congress from one of
the new States? Or to secure from the President an appointment as
Minister to a foreign court, perhaps that of St. James? Better than
these schemes and more independent, to embark in a stupendous land
speculation in Louisiana, and open a splendid way to riches and power.
The wavering blue nebulæ of intoxicating clouds rise and float, and
fashion their fragrant columns into grander castles of smoke. The
Mississippi Valley is spacious and fertile, Louisiana is a wide
domain, but why limit the scope of enterprise to these? Why not
conquer Mexico, make New Orleans the capital of a magnificent empire,
and possibly annex the southwestern States of the severed Union.
Myself the emperor of the richest realm on the globe, my daughter the
crown princess and prospective queen Theodosia!
Such was the gorgeous dream, the cloud-vision, the unuttered soliloquy
of Aaron Burr, the political bankrupt, as he sat smoking on the deck
of a flatboat, drifting down the devious current of the Ohio.