“Second only to me. Here; I’ve drawn an outline of the civil fabric we’re to set up. The government, as I’ve said, is to be imperial, myself emperor. There is to be a nobility of grandees, titles hereditary, who will sit as a parliament. The noble programme is this: Aaron I, emperor; Wilkinson, generalissimo of the forces; Alston, chief of the grandees and secretary of state; Theo, chief lady of the court and princess mother of the heir presumptive; Aaron Burr Alston, heir presumptive; Truxton, lord high admiral of the fleet. There will be ambassadors, ministers, consuls, and the usual furniture of government. The grandees should be limited to one hundred, and chosen from those whom we bring with us. There may be minor noble grades, drawn from ones powerful and friendly among the natives.”
Aaron and Wilkinson of the carnelian nose sit far into the watches of the night, discussing the great design. As the carnelianed one takes his leave, he says:
“We are fully agreed, I find. To-morrow I start for Natchez; you are to follow in two weeks, you say?”
“Yes,” responds Aaron. “There should be months of travel ahead, before my arrangements are perfected. I must meet Adair in Kentucky, Smith in Ohio, Harrison in Indiana, Jackson in Tennessee; besides visit New Orleans, and arrange about those eight hundred thousand Washita acres. In my running about, I shall see you many times, and confer with you as questions come up.”
“I shall meet you at Fort Massac on the Ohio. Don’t forget two several matters: The enterprise will lick up gold like fire. Also, that in the civil as well as the military control of the empire, I’m to be second to no one save yourself.”
“I shall forget nothing. Speaking of money, I sell Richmond Hill to-morrow for twenty-five thousand dollars. The deeds are drawn and signed.”
“Oh, we shall find money enough,” returns Wilkinson contentedly. “Only it’s well never to lose sight of the fact that we’re going to need it. Clark, as I say, will plunge in for something handsome—something that should call for six figures in its measure. As to my rank of generalissimo, second only to yourself, it is all I could ask. Popularly,” concludes Wilkinson, preparing to take his leave—“popularly, I shall be known as ‘Wilkinson the Deliverer.’ Coming, as I shall, at the head of those gallant conquering armies which are to relieve the groaning Mexicans from the yoke of Spain, I think it a natural and an appropriate title—‘Wilkinson the Deliverer!’”
“Not only an appropriate title,” observes the courtly Aaron, who remembers his generalissimo’s recent loyalty to the whisky bottle, “but admirably adapted to fill the trump of fame.”
The door closes on the broad back of the coming “Deliverer.” As Aaron again bends over his “Empire,” he hears that personage’s footsteps, uncertain by virtue of much drink, and proudly martial at the glorious prospect before him, go shuffling down the corridor of the Indian Queen.
“Bah!” mutters Aaron; “Jack Swartwout was right. It is both dangerous and disgusting to build a great design on the trustless foundation of this conceited, treacherous sot. And yet, such is the irony of my situation, I am unable to do otherwise. At that, I shall manage him. Oh, if Jefferson were only of the right viking sort! But, no; a creature of abstractions, bookshelves and alcoves!—a closet philosopher in whose veins runs no drop of red aggressive fighting blood!—he would as soon think of treason as of conquest, and, indeed, might readily fall into the error of imagining they spell the same thing. Besides, he hates me for that presidential tie of four years ago. The plain offspring of his own unpopularity, he none the less leaves it on my doorstep as the natural child of my intrigues. No! I must watch Jefferson, not trust him. His judgment is ever valet to his hatreds. He would call the most innocent act a crime, prove white black, for the privilege of making Aaron Burr an outlaw.”