A Dream of Empire; Or, The House of Blennerhassett — John Shaqi
A Dream of Empire; Or, The House of BlennerhassettVenable, William Henry
General
A Dream of Empire; Or, The House of Blennerhassett
Venable, William Henry
Blennerhassett, Harman, 1765-1831 -- Fiction
Burr, whose prospective foray in Mexico would require the service of
all the dare-devils who could be enlisted, did not scruple to
conciliate this outlaw, nor to give him an inkling of warlike
preparations against the Spaniard. Pierce, flattered by this
confidence, readily volunteered to lend his aid at any time to
whatever enterprise Burr might propose, and, like one of the tools of
Brutus, he was ready to say, "Set on your foot; I follow you to do I
know not what." Yet he knew more than might be supposed, of the
history, official rank and designs of his employer. To the soothing
counsel, "You must not bear malice toward that young Virginian;
remember, he is one of us." Burke replied with a nod and a sinister
laugh.
The Salome was moored at the landing near Fort Massac. General
Wilkinson, whose barge lay in port, was stopping temporarily at this
station before proceeding to his headquarters in St. Louis. Burr must
win Wilkinson, and to the winning of an ally so influential he must
bring to bear all the arts of address and insinuation, for he had to
deal with a wily character. Yet he did not doubt that, by discreet
appeals to the vanity and cupidity of the general, he could induce
that blandest of politicians to embark in an enterprise which promised
evergreen laurels and rich returns of gold.
Arrayed in his best cloth, with boots freshly polished and face
smoothly shaven, with queue and ruffles in perfect condition, a Beau
Brummel of exterior proprieties and a Machiavelli in _finesse_, Aaron
Burr presented himself at the barracks, and was welcomed with effusive
cordiality by his friend and comrade. The two shook hands with the
hearty familiarity of veterans glad to renew old associations.
"Colonel Burr, I am delighted to see you here. Your letter, written in
Philadelphia, reached me at the capital. Pray, take this big chair; it
is rather comfortable."
"Very elegant, I should say, general, especially for a remote outpost
like this. The Government, I imagine, does not furnish you with such
costly articles."
"Oh, no, no, certainly not; the chair is part of the furniture of my
barge. I must provide myself with these necessaries from my private
purse. Necessaries, I say; for use breeds wants; I was habituated from
my birth to social refinements, ease and the luxuries of the
table.--You must take a cup of kindness with me. What will you drink?
I have here sherry, whiskey, peach-brandy and applejack."
The general, as he enumerated the liquors, stepped to the sideboard,
which, with its array of bottles, looked like a bar.
Wilkinson was a handsome man, about forty-eight years old. Slightly
under the average height, he was of symmetrical figure, and his
countenance was agreeable, despite a deeply florid complexion. He held
his head well, his walk was firm and dignified, and his bearing was
graceful. The well-fitting suit of blue and yellow uniform which he
wore with an air of pomp and authority was very becoming to his noble
form.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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