Well disposed to smile at his chief's audacious overturning of all social usage, yet not unadvised of the seriousness of all this, Meriwether Lewis handed the distinguished guests to their seats as best he might; and then left them as best he might.

At that time there were not six vacant places remaining at the long table. No one seemed to know how many had been invited to the banquet, or how many were expected--no one in the company seemed to know anyone else. It was indeed a pell-mell affair.

For once the American democracy was triumphant. But the leader of that democracy, the head of the new administration, the host at this official banquet, the President of the United States, Thomas Jefferson, stood quietly, serenely, looking out over the long table, entirely unconcerned with what he saw. If there was trouble, it was for others, not for him.

Those at table presently began to seat themselves, following the host's example. It was at this moment that the young captain of affairs turned once more toward the great doors, with the intention of closing them. Old Henry was having his own battles with the remaining audience in the anteroom, as he now brought forward two belated guests. Old Henry, be sure, knew them both; and--as a look at the sudden change of his features might have told--so did Mr. Jefferson's aide.

They advanced with dignity, these two--one a gentleman, not tall, but elegant, exquisitely clad in full-dress costume; a man whom you would have turned to examine a second time had you met him anywhere. Upon his arm was a young woman, also beautifully costumed, smiling, graceful, entirely at her ease. Many present knew the two--Aaron Burr, Vice-President of the United States; his daughter, Theodosia Burr Alston.

Mr. Burr pa.s.sed within the great doors, turned and bowed deeply to his host, distant as he was across the crowded room. His daughter curtsied, also deeply. Their entry was dramatic. Then they stood, a somewhat stately picture, waiting for an instant while seemingly deciding their future course.

It was at this moment that Meriwether Lewis approached them, beckoning. He led them toward the few seats that still remained unoccupied, placed them near to the official visitors, whose ruffled feathers still remained unsmoothed, and then stood by them for an instant, intending to take his departure.

There was one remaining chair. It was at the side of Theodosia Alston.

She herself looked up at him eagerly, and patted it with her hand. He seated himself at her side.

Thus at last was filled the pell-mell table of Mr. Thomas Jefferson.

To this day no man knows whether all present had been invited, or whether all invited had opportunity to be present.

There were those--his enemies, men of the opposing political party, for the most part--who spoke ill of Mr. Jefferson, and charged that he showed hypocrisy in his pretense of democratic simplicity in official life. Yet others, even among his friends, criticised him severely for the affair of this afternoon--July 4, in the year of 1803. They said that his manners were inconsistent with the dignity of the highest official of this republic.

If any of this comment injured or offended Mr. Jefferson, he never gave a sign. He was born a gentleman as much as any, and was as fully acquainted with good social usage as any man of his day. His life had been spent in the best surroundings of his own country, and at the most polished courts of the Old World. To accuse him of ignorance or boorishness would have been absurd.

The fact was that his own resourceful brain had formed a definite plan. He wished to convey a certain rebuke--and with deadly accuracy he did convey that rebuke. It was at no enduring cost to his own fame.

If the pell-mell dinner was at first a thing inchoate, awkward, impossible, criticism halted when the actual service at table began.

The chef at the White House had been brought to this country by Mr.

Jefferson from Paris, and no better was known on this side the water.

So devoted was Mr. Jefferson known to be to the French style of cooking that no less a man than Patrick Henry, on the stump, had accused him of having "deserted the victuals of his country." His table was set and served with as much elegance as any at any foreign court. At the door of the city of Washington, even in the summer season, there was the best market of the world. As submitted by his _chef de cuisine_, Mr. Jefferson's menu was of no pell-mell sort. If we may credit it as handed down, it ran thus, in the old French of that day:

Huitres de Shinnec.o.c.k, Saulce Tempete Olives du Luc Othon Marine a l'Huile Vierge Amandes et Cerneaux Sales Pot au Feu du Roy "Henriot"

Croustade Mogador Truite de Ruisselet, Belle Meuniere Pommes en Fines Herbes Fricot de tendre Poulet en Coquemare, au Vieux Chanturgne Tourte de Ris de Veau, Financiere Baron de Pre Sale aux Primeurs Sorbet des Comtes de Champagne Dinde Sauvage flambee devant les Sarments de Vigne, flanquee d'Ortolans Aspic de Foie Gras Lucullus Salade des Nymphes a la Lamballe Asperges Chauldes enduites de Sauce Lombardienne Dessert et Fruits de la Reunion Fromage de Bique Cafe Arabe Larmes de Juliette

Whatever the wines served at the Executive Mansion may have been at later dates, those owned and used by President Jefferson were the best the world produced--vintages of rarity, selected as could have been done only by one of the nicest taste. Rumor had it that none other than Senor Yrujo, minister from Spain, recipient of many casks of the best vintages of his country that he might entertain with proper dignity, had seen fit to do a bit of merchandizing on his own account, to the end that Mr. Jefferson became the owner of certain of these rare casks.

In any event, the Spanish minister now showed no fear of the wines which came his way. Nor, for that matter, did the minister from Great Britain, nor the spouses of these twain. Mr. Burr, seated with their party, himself somewhat abstemious, none the less could not refrain from an interrogatory glance as he saw Merry halt a certain bottle or two at his own plate.

"Upon my word!" said the st.u.r.dy Briton, turning to him. "Such wine I never have tasted! I did not expect it here--served by a host in breeches and slippers! But never mind--it is wonderful!"

"There may be many things here you have not expected, your excellency," said Mr. Burr.

The Vice-President favored the little party at his left with one of his brilliant smiles. He had that strange faculty, admitted even by his enemies, of making another speak freely what he wished to hear, himself reticent the while.

The face of the English dignitary clouded again.

"I wish I could approve all else as I do the wine and the food; but I cannot understand. Here we sit, after being crowded like herrings in a box--myself, my lady here, and these others. Is this the placing his Majesty's minister should have at the President's table? Is this what we should demand here?"

"The indignity is to all of us alike," smiled Burr. "Mr. Jefferson believes in a great human democracy. I myself regret to state that I cannot quite go with him to the lengths he fancies."

"I shall report the entire matter to his Majesty's government!" said Mr. Merry, again helping himself to wine. "To be received here by a man in his stable clothes--so to meet us when we come formally to pay our call to this government--that is an insult! I fancy it to be a direct and intentional one."

"Insult is small word for it," broke in the irate Spanish minister, still further down the table. "I certainly shall report to my own government what has happened here--of that be very sure!"

"Give me leave, sir," continued Merry. "This republic, what is it?

What has it done?"

"I ask as much," affirmed Yrujo. "A small war with your own country, Great Britain, sir--in which only your generosity held you back--that is all this country can claim. In the South, my people own the mouth of the great river--we own Florida--we own the province of Texas--all the Southern and Western lands. True, Louis XV--to save it from Great Britain, perhaps, sir"--he bowed to the British minister--"originally ceded Louisiana to our crown. True, also, my sovereign has ceded it again to France. But Spain still rules the South, just as Britain rules the middle country out beyond; and what is left? I snap my fingers at this republic!"

Senor Yrujo helped himself to a br.i.m.m.i.n.g gla.s.s of his own wine.

"I say that Western country is ours," he still insisted, warming to his oration now. "Suppose, under coercion, our sovereign did cede it to Napoleon, who claims it now? Does Spain not govern it still? Do we not collect the revenues? Is not the whole system of law enforced under the flag of Spain, all along the great river yonder? Possession, exploration, discovery--those are the rights under which territories are annexed. France has the t.i.tle to that West, but we hold the land itself--we administer it. And never shall it go from under our flag, unless it be through the act of stronger foreign powers. Spain will fight!"

"Will Spain fight?" demanded a deep and melodious voice. It was that of Aaron Burr who spoke now, half in query, half in challenge. "Would Spain fight--and would Great Britain, if need were and the time came?"

He spoke to men heated with wine, smarting under social indignity, men owning a hurt personal vanity.

"Our past is proof enough," said Merry proudly.

Yrujo needed no more than a shrug.

"Divide and conquer?" Burr went on, looking at them, and raising an eyebrow in query.

They nodded, both of them. Burr looked around. His daughter and Meriwether Lewis were oblivious. He saw the young man's eyes, somber, deep, fixed on hers; saw her gazing in return, silent, troubled, fascinated.

One presumes that it was at this moment--at the instant when Aaron Burr, seeing the power his daughter held over young Meriwether Lewis, and the interest he held for her, turned to these foreign officials at his left--at that moment, let us say, the Burr conspiracy began.

"Divide that unknown country, the West, and how long would this republic endure?" said Aaron Burr.

The noise of the banquet now rose about them. Voices blended with laughter; the wine was pa.s.sing; awkwardness and restraint had given way to good cheer. In a manner they were safe to talk.

"What?" demanded Aaron Burr once more. "Could a few francs transfer all that marvelous country from Spain to France? That were absurd. By what possible t.i.tle could that region yonder ever come to this republic? It is still more absurd to think that. Civilization does not leap across great river valleys. It follows them. You have said rightly, Senor Yrujo. To my mind Great Britain has laid fair grasp upon the upper West; and Spain holds the lower West, with which our statesmen have interested themselves of late. By all the rights of conquest, discovery, and use, gentlemen, Great Britain's traders have gained for her flag all the territory which they have reached on their Western trading routes. I go with you that far."

Merry turned upon Burr suddenly a deep and estimating eye.

"I begin to see," said he, "that you are open to conviction, Mr.

Burr."

"Not open to conviction," said Aaron Burr, "but already convinced!"

"What do you mean, Colonel Burr?" The Englishman bent toward him, frowning in intentness.

"I mean that perhaps I have something to say to you two gentlemen of the foreign courts which will be of interest and importance to you."

"Where, then, could we meet after this is over?"

The minister from Great Britain surely was not beyond close and ready estimate of events.

"At my residence, after this dinner," rejoined Aaron Burr instantly.