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CHAPTER XXVIII

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AS IN DAYS OF YORE

S Samuel Swartwout gazed upon the scene before him, a smile sat upon his face. His friend, Aaron Burr, had been in New York but two short weeks since his return from his long sojourn of four years in Europe. Samuel had been appointed a committee of one to make arrangements for a complimentary dinner to be given to his old friend and political associate.

The table had been laid in the big room of a retired and respectable tavern. Seats had been provided for eighteen persons and he had received either verbal or written assurances that all the invited guests would surely be on hand.

The dinner had been set for eight o'clock, but long before that time the guests began to arrive. Many of them had not seen each other for years and the handshakings and congratulations were numerous and hearty. There were the brothers John and Samuel Swartwout; Colonel Troup, with whom Burr had made arrangements to share a part of his law office; Colonel Knapp, an old friend of Burr's who had come on from Massachusetts; Luther Martin who, in order to greet his friend, had made a trip from Maryland; and Doctor Eric Bollman who, although a resident of Philadelphia, happened to be in New York at the time fixed for the festivities and had gladly accepted an invitation to be present. The balance of the company was composed of Matthew L. Davis and ten other residents of New

York City who were either social or political friends of Aaron Burr.

Punctually at the hour fixed upon, the man in whose honor the dinner was given made his appearance clad in his accustomed habit of black velvet. Although in his fifty-seventh year, he had never been a handsomer man than on the present occasion, and his eyes sparkled with a brilliancy which convinced all that they had lost none of their original force and fire.

He accepted the congratulations of his friends in his usual urbane and polished manner and thanked them individually for the great civility thus extended to him and the honor conferred upon him by their presence.

After the repast was over, Samuel Swartwout arose to make a short address of welcome.

"As in days of yore, when we met at the festal board in company with our former associate and political chieftain, we have a double purpose in view; first, to extend to him our hearty welcome and congratulations upon his safe return; second, to wish him long life and prosperity, and to express the hope that the power once in his hands, but temporarily wrested from them, may be once more restored to his grasp."

These sentiments were loudly applauded by the assembled guests, and Burr, rising, bowed his acknowledgment. Swartwout continued:

"I am aware that this is not Richmond Hill; but we have with us to-night the man whose wit and eloquence and marked personality of character gave to that famous mansion the great charm that it always possessed for those who were so fortunate as to be honored with invitations to become guests within its walls."

Swartwout sat down. His closing words were received with another outburst of applause. Burr rose once more and again bowed his appreciation of the neatly-worded compliment. Remaining standing, he said:

"During my exile of four years in Continental Europe, I have had ever before my mind a picture such as I gaze upon to-night. Hundreds of times, while sitting in my lonely lodgings in some foreign city, have I pictured to myself a brightly-lighted room and a wellladen table, with the faces of my friends about it, such as I see here to-night. I will own that I have had another picture in my mind and that has been some pleasant room in which I sat in company with my beloved daughter Theodosia, my little grandson, and my daughter's husband who loves me as a father and whose filial affection is fully reciprocated by me. The man of wealth, situated as I have been, might have thought of his treasures in ships, in land, and gold, but to me those faces of my friends and relatives were a greater treasure than any which can be measured by money value. Let me speak frankly to you. I do not return with any hope, I may say desire, to regain any former political prominence that I may have held in the city, state, or nation. I shall resume my place at the bar and shall endeavor, as all honest citizens should, to earn my livelihood, and in this undertaking I know I shall have the kind assistance of these gentlemen present to-night, as well as that of other friends who are not present.

"I may be pardoned for noticing the absence of my old-time friend and valued associate, Judge Van Ness who, I understand, is absent in the West for business purposes. I know you did not come here to-night to listen to an oration by me, but rather to have me tell you in a simple, conversational way some of my experiences during my travels; and, as their recital will occupy considerable time, I know you will excuse me if, while so engaged, I resume my seat.'

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The decanters of wine and bottles of stronger beverages were now placed upon the table, and many of the guests, after partaking, lighted their cigars and

settled themselves into comfortable positions to participate in what they knew would prove to be an enjoyable literary feast. The conversation was general for some time, but it was immediately hushed when Chairman Samuel Swartwout pounded upon the table with his knife-handle to bring the assemblage to order.

Burr began to speak in a conversational tone, but his enunciation was so perfect that every word was distinctly heard.

"I will spare you an account of my ocean trip. As usual, it was long and tedious and I was as overjoyed as my fellow-travelers when the shores of Old England loomed up in the distance. I make no secret of what you probably all know. I left New York in disguise and under an assumed name. When I reached London, I sought out and secured modest lodgings in a respectable quarter of that great city. My first visit was to Mrs. Prevost who was a relative of the mother of my Theodosia. Her son, now Sir George Prevost, was at that time in the West Indies fighting the French. Now, as you all know, he is Governor-General of Canada and will probably lead the British forces in the approaching hostilities between our country and England.

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One of my first acquaintances, Jeremy Bentham, was also one of the most enjoyable I made while in Europe. Bentham is a great man but one who will not be fully appreciated in this generation. My intimacy with him was delightful, and he made his country house at Barrow Green and his city mansion in Queen's Square Place, as much mine as if I had been their owner. His city house bore the very quaint title of The Bird Cage.'

"I did not go to England without a fixed purpose in my mind. I made many ineffectual attempts to bring my business to the attention of the British Minister, but without success. Having an invitation to visit

Edinburgh I decided to accept it. On my way I stopped at Oxford. I was dined and wined by the professorial dons, and, as some slight return for their civilities, I talked politics and religion with them.”

The first interruption to Burr's continued discourse came at this point.

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"Did you find them firmly set in the old theology?" asked Doctor Bollman, with his broad German accent. Not at all,” replied Burr, with a laugh. “I found everything in a chaotic state in England; law, politics, and religion were all in a most unsettled condition. It seemed to me as though all the men of dull intellect and feeble powers were in office, while the able and intellectual ones were on the outside, but yet unable to overcome the prestige of those in power." He resumed his narrative. At the Scottish capital I had a most pleasurable time. I was particularly pleased with the lads and lassies who sang the old Scotch songs for me."

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"Did you ask them to dance?" asked Mr. Davis. "There was no need of it. The man with the bagpipes was to be found everywhere and I was treated to many exhibitions of their national dances, including the celebrated Highland Fling. The Scotch people, I mean the young ones, approach the French in their spirit and vivacity."

"I presume you made many acquaintances there," remarked Colonel Troup.

"Yes. One of the most enjoyable was that of David Williamson, a brother of Charles Williamson who used to be one of my most intimate personal friends. David is now Lord Balgray and a great legal light at the Scotch bar. I met Walter Scott who had published The Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, The Lay of The Last Minstrel, and Marmion. I think Scott is destined to become the greatest author that Scotland has ever produced.

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