NOW begin days crowded on new faces and new scenes. Aaron ascends
the Potomac, and crosses the mountains to Pittsburg. He buys a cabined
flatboat and floats down to Marietta. They tell him of Blennerhassett,
romantic, eccentric, living on an island below. He visits the island;
the lord of the isle is absent, but his spouse, broad, thick, genial,
not beautiful, welcomes him and bids him come again.
Aaron goes to Cincinnati, and confers with Senator Smith; to Louisville,
where he meets General Adair; then cross country to Nashville to find
General Jackson--his friend of a Senate day when he, Aaron, served
colleague to the kiln-dried Rufus King.
Everywhere Aaron is the honored guest at barbecue and banquet.
Processions march; balls are given to his glory. There are roasting of
oxen, drinking of corn whisky, rosining of bows and scraping of catgut;
and all after the hearty fashion of the West, when once it gets a hero
in its clutches.
To Adair and Smith and the lean Jackson, Aaron lays out his purpose of
Southwestern conquest. These stark worthies go with him heart and soul.
Each hates the Spaniard with a Saxon’s hate; each is a Francis Drake at
bottom. Their hot concern in what he is upon, fairly overruns the verbal
pace of Aaron in its telling. Only, he is half-secret, and does not make
clear those elements of throne and crown and scepter. It will leave them
less over which to hesitate, he thinks; for he perceives that he deals
with folk who are congenital republicans.
The lean Jackson, even more heartily than do the others, enters into
Aaron’s plans. He declares that the best blood of Tennessee shall follow
him. In the long talks they have at the Hermitage, Aaron implants in
Jackson a Southwestern impulse which, in its deeds, will find victorious
culmination thirty years later at San Jacinto. In that day, Jackson
himself will occupy the chair now held by Jefferson.
Being no prophet, but only a restless, strong, ambitious man, Aaron does
not foresee that day of Jackson in the White House, San Jacinto, and Sam
Houston--the latter just now a lad of thirteen, and hidden away in his
ancestral woods. Full of hope, Aaron goes diligently forward with
his sowing, the harvest whereof those others are to reap. He lays the
bedplates of an empire truly; but not _his_ empire--not the empire
of Aaron I, with Aaron II to follow him. He will be tottering on the
grave’s edge in a day of San Jacinto; and yet his age-chilled heart will
warm at the news of it, and know it for his work.
Aaron leaves Jackson, drifts down the Cumberland to the Ohio, and meets
Wilkinson, who--nose as red, with whisky-fuddled soul--is as much in
ardent arms as ever. Wilkinson cannot greet him too warmly. The only
change perceivable in our corn-soaked warrior is a doubt as to whether,
instead of “Wilkinson the Deliverer,” he might not better fill the
wondering measure of futurity as “Washington of the West.” Both titles
are full of majesty--a thing important to a taste streaked of rum--but
the latter possesses the more alliterative roll. The red-nosed Wilkinson
says finally that he will keep the question of title in abeyance,
committing himself to neither, with a possibility of adopting both.
Aaron regains his cabined flatboat, and follows the current eight
hundred miles to Natchez. Later he drifts away to New Orleans. The
latter city is a bubbling community of nine thousand souls--American,
Spanish, French. It runs as socially wild over Aaron as did those ruder,
up-the-river regions; although, proving its civilization, it scrapes a
more delicate fiddle and declines the greasy barbecue enormities of a
whole roast ox.
The Englishman Clark strikes hands with Aaron for the coming empire. It
is agreed that, with rank next to son-in-law Alston’s, Clark shall be
of the grandees. Also, Aaron makes the acquaintance of the Bishop of New
Orleans, and the pair dispatch three Jesuit brothers to Mexico to spy
out the land. For the Spanish rule, as rapacious as tyrannous, has not
fostered the Church, but robbed it. Under Aaron I, the Church shall not
only be protected, but become the national Church.
Leaving New Orleans, Aaron returns by an old Indian trace to Nashville,
keeping during the journey a sharp lookout for banditti who rob and kill
along the trail. Coming safe, he is welcomed by the lean Jackson, whom
he sets building bateaux for conveying the Tennessee contingent to the
coming work.
[Illustration: 0287]
Leaving Jackson busy with saw and adz and auger over flatboats, Aaron
heads north for the island dwelling of Blennerhassett. In the fortnight
he spends with that muddled exile, he wins him--life and fortune.
Blennerhassett is weak, forceless, a creature of dreams. Under spell
of the dominating Aaron, he sees with the eyes, speaks with the mouth,
feels with the heart of that strong ambitious one. Blennerhassett will
be a grandee. As such he must go to England, ambassador for the Empire
of Mexico, bearing the letters of Aaron I. He takes joy in picturing
himself at the court of St. James, and hears with the ear of
anticipation the exclamatory admiration of his Irish friends.
“Ay! they’ll change their tune!” cries Blennerhassett, as he considers
his greatness to come. “It should open their Irish eyes, for sure, when
they meet me as ‘Don Blennerhassett, grandee of the Mexican Empire,
Ambassador to St. James by favor of his Imperial Majesty, Aaron I.’
It’ll cause my surly kinfolk to sing out of the other corners of their
mouths; for I cannot remember that they’ve been over-respectful to me in
the past.”
Aaron recrosses the mountains, and descends the Potomac to Washington.
He dines with Jefferson, and relates his adventures, but hides his
plans. No whisper of empire and emperors at the great democrat’s table!
Aaron is not so horn-mad as all that.
While Aaron is in Washington, the stubborn Swartwout comes over. As the
fruits of the conference between him and his chief, the stubborn one
returns, and sends his brother Samuel, young Ogden, and Dr. Bollman to
Blennerhassett. Also, the lustrous Theo and little Aaron Burr Alston
join Aaron; for the princess mother of the heir presumptive, as well as
the sucking emperor himself, is to go with Aaron when he again heads
for the West. There will be no return--the lustrous Theo and the heir
presumptive are to accompany the expedition of conquest. Son-in-law
Alston, who will be chief of the grandees and secretary of state,
promises to follow later. Just now he is trying to negotiate a loan
on his plantations; and making slow work of it, because of Jefferson’s
interference with the exportation of rice.
Madam Blennerhassett welcomes the princess mother with wide arms, and
kisses the heir presumptive. Aaron decides to make the island a present
headquarters. Leaving the lustrous Theo and the heir presumptive to
Madam Blennerhassett, he indulges in swift, darting journeys, west and
north and south. He arranges for fifteen bateaux, each to carry one
hundred men, at Marietta. He crosses to Nashville to talk with Jackson,
and note the progress of that lean filibusterer with the Cumberland
flotilla. What he sees so pleases him that he leaves four thousand
dollars--a royal sum!--with the lean Jackson, to meet initial charges in
outfitting the Tennessee wing of the great enterprise.
Aaron goes to Chillicothe and talks to the Governor of Ohio. Returning,
he drops over to the little huddle of huts called Cannonsburg. There he
forms the acquaintance of an honest, uncouth personage named Morgan, who
is eaten up of patriotism and suspicion. Morgan listens to Aaron, and
decides that he is a firebrand of treason about to set the Ohio valley
in a blaze. He writes these flaming fears to Jefferson--as suspicious as
any Morgan!
Having aroused Morgan the wrong way,
Aaron descends to New Orleans and makes payment on those eight
hundred thousand acres along the Washita. Following this real estate
transaction, he hunts up the whisky-reddened Wilkinson, and offers a
suggestion. As commander in chief, Wilkinson might march a brigade into
the Spanish country on the Sabine, and tease and tempt the Castilians
into a clash. Aaron argues that, once a brush occurs between the
Spaniards and the United States, a war fury will seize the country, and
furnish an admirable background of sentiment for his own descent upon
Mexico. Wilkinson, full of bottle valor, receives Aaron’s suggestion
with rapture, and starts for the Sabine. Wilkinson safely off for the
Sabine, to bring down the desired trouble, Aaron again pushes up for
Blennerhassett and that exile’s island.
While these important matters are being thus set moving war-wise, the
soft-witted Blennerhassett is not idle. He writes articles for the
papers, descriptive of Mexico, which he pictures as a land flowing with
milk and honey. During gaps in his milk-and-honey literature, the coming
ambassador buys pork and flour and corn and beans, and stores them on
the island. They are to feed the expedition, when it shoves forth upon
the broad Ohio in those fifteen Marietta bateaux.
Aaron gets back to the island. Accompanied by the lustrous Theo and
Blennerhassett, he goes to Lexington. While there, word reaches him that
Attorney Daviess, acting for the government by request of Jefferson, has
moved the court at Frankfort for an order “commanding the appearance
of Aaron Burr.” The letter of the suspicious Morgan to the suspicious
Jefferson has fallen like seed upon good ground.
Aaron does not wait; taking with him Henry Clay as counsel, he repairs
to Frankfort as rapidly as blue grass horseflesh can travel. Going into
court, Aaron, with Henry Clay, routs Attorney Daviess, who intimates but
does not charge treason. The judge, the grand jury, and the public give
their sympathies to Aaron; following his exoneration, they promote a
ball in his honor.
Recruits begin to gather; the fifteen Marietta bateaux approach
completion. Aaron dispatches Samuel Swartwout and young Ogden with
letters to the red-nosed, necessary Wilkinson, making mad the Spaniards
on the Sabine. Also Adair and Bollman take boat for New Orleans. When
Swartwout and young Ogden have departed, Aaron resumes his Marietta
preparations, urging speed with those bateaux.
Swartwout reaches the red-nosed Wilkinson, and delivers Aaron’s letters.
These missives find the red-nosed one in a mixed mood. His cowardice
and native genius for treachery, acting lately in concert, have built
up doubts within him. There are bodily perils, sure to attend upon the
conquest of Mexico, which the rednosed one now hesitates to face.
Why should he face them? Would he not get as much from Jefferson for
betraying Aaron? He might, by a little dexterous mendacity, make the
Credulous Jefferson believe that Aaron meditates a blow not at Mexico
but the United States. It would permit him, the red-nosed one, to pose
as the saviour of his country. And as the acknowledged saviour of his
country, what might not he demand?--what might not he receive? Surely, a
saved country, even a saved republic, would not be ungrateful!
The red-nosed one’s genius for treachery being thus addressed, he sends
posthaste to Jefferson. He warns him that a movement is abroad to
break up the Union. Every State west of the Alleghenies is to be in the
revolt. Thus declares the treacherous red-nosed one, who thinks it the
shorter cut to that coveted title, “Wilkinson the Deliverer, Washington
of the West.” Besides, there will be the glory and sure emolument!
Wilkinson the red-nosed, thinks on these things as he goes plunging
Aaron and his scheme of empire into ruin.
While these wonders are working in the West, Aaron, wrapped in ignorance
concerning them, is driving matters with a master’s hand at Marietta and
the island. The fifteen bateaux are still unfinished, when he resolves,
with sixty of his people, to go down to Natchez. There are matters which
call to him in connection with those Washita eight hundred thousand
acres. Besides, he desires a final word with the red-nosed Wilkinson.
At Bayou Pierre, a handful of miles above Natchez, Aaron hears of a
Jefferson proclamation. The news touches his heart as with a finger of
frost. Folk say the proclamation recites incipient treason in the States
west of the Alleghenies, and warns all men not to engage therein on
peril of their necks. About the same time comes word that the red-nosed,
treacherous Wilkinson has caused the arrest of Adair, Dr. Boll-man,
Samuel Swartwout, and young Ogden, and shipped them, per schooner, to
Baltimore, to answer as open traitors to the State. Aaron requires all
his fortitude to command himself.
The Governor of Mississippi grows excited; he feels the heroic need of
doing something. He hoarsely orders out certain companies of militia;
after which he calls into counsel his attorney general.
The latter potentate advises eloquence before powder and ball. He
believes that treason, black and lowering, is abroad, the country’s
integrity threatened by the demonaic Aaron. Still, he has faith in his
own sublime powers as an orator. He tells the governor that he can talk
the treason-mongering Aaron into tameness. At this the governor--nobly
willing to risk and, if need press, sacrifice his attorney general on
the altars of a common good--bids him try what he can eloquently do.
The confident attorney general goes to Aaron, where that would-be
conqueror is lying, at Bayou Pierre. He sets forth what a fatal mistake
it would be, were Aaron to lock military horns with the puissant
territory of Mississippi. Common prudence, he says, dictates that Aaron
surrender without a struggle, and come into court and be tried.
Aaron makes not the least objection. He goes with the attorney general,
and, pending investigation by the grand jurors, is enthusiastically
hailed by rich planters of the region, who sign for ten thousand
dollars.
The grand jurors, following the example of those others of the blue
grass, find Aaron an innocent, ill-used individual. They order his
honorable release, and then devote themselves, with heartfelt diligence,
to indicting the governor for illicitly employing the militia.
Cool counsel intervenes, however, and the grand jurors, not without
difficulty, are convinced that the governor intended no wrong. Thereupon
they content themselves with grimly warning that official to hereafter
let “honest settlers” coming into the country alone. Having discharged
their duty in the premises, the grand jurors lapse into private life and
the governor draws a long breath of relief.
Aaron procures a copy of Jefferson’s anti-treason proclamation. The West
will snap derisive fingers at it; but New England and the East are sure
to be set on edge. The proclamation itself is enough to cripple his
enterprise of empire. Added to the treachery of the rednosed Wilkinson,
it makes such empire for the nonce impossible. The proclamation does not
name him; but Aaron knows that the dullest mind between the oceans will
supply the omission.
There is nothing else for it. The mere thought is gall and wormwood; and
yet Aaron’s dream must vanish before what stubborn conditions confront
him.
As a best move toward extricating himself from the tangle into which
the perfidy of the red-nosed one has forced him, Aaron decides to go
to Washington. He informs the leading spirits about him of his purpose,
mounts the finest horse to be had for money, and sets out.
It is a week later. One Perkins meets Aaron at the Alabama village of
Wakeman. The thoroughbred air of the man on the thoroughbred horse sets
Perkins to thinking. After ten minutes’ study, Perkins is flooded of a
great light.
“Aaron Burr!” he cries, and rushes off to Fort Stoddart.
Perkins, out of breath, tells his news to Captain Gaines. Two hours
later, as Aaron comes riding down a hill, he is met by Captain Gaines
and a sober file of soldiers.
The captain salutes:
“You are Colonel Burr,” he says. “I arrest you by order of President
Jefferson. You must go with me to Fort Stoddart, where you will be
treated with the respect due one who has honorably filled the second
highest post of Government.”
“Sir,” responds Aaron, unruffled and superior, “I am Colonel Burr. I
yield myself your prisoner; since, with the force at your command, it
is not possible to do otherwise.” Aaron rides with Captain Gaines to the
fort. As the two dismount at the captain’s quarters, a beautiful woman
greets them.
“This is my wife, Colonel Burr,” says Captain Gaines. Then, to Madam
Gaines: “Colonel Burr will be our guest at dinner.”
Aaron, the captain, and the beautiful Madam Gaines go in to dinner. Two
sentries with fixed bayonets march and countermarch before the door.
Aaron beholds in them the sign visible that his program of empire, which
has cost him so much and whereon his hopes were builded so high, is
forever thrust aside. Smooth, polished, deferential, brilliant--the
beautiful Madam Gaines says she has yet to meet a more fascinating man!
Aaron is never more steadily composed, never more at polite ease than
now when power and empire vanish for all time.
“You appreciate my position, sir,” says Captain Gaines, as they rise
from the table. “I trust you do not blame me for performing my duty.”
“Sir,” returns Aaron, with an acquiescent bow, “I blame only the
hateful, thick stupidity of Jefferson, and my own criminal dullness in
trusting a scoundrel.”