Rival Caesars

by Desmond Dilg

  “What a fool I was after all, to let her go to her father? I should have kept her here at any cost. But could I marry her? Ah, there's the rub. What else could I have done? How could I have foreseen her sickness?

  “O, Margaret, Margaret, how can I save you? How can I now deliver you? How can I rescue you from the midst of a hostile army? How can I carry you off from Staten Island, guarded night and day by 10,000 men?

  “Shall I abandon my country or shall I let my true love die? God! Was ever a man placed in such a dilemma? My heart from grief and rage is turning to blood. My brain burns and throbs like the brain of a madman, yet what can I do? What CAN I do?”

  As might be expected there was no rest for Aaron Burr that night. Up and down the apartment he paced, thinking over plan after plan to free Margaret from death, and marry her.

  When daylight came he had written her a reply, outlining a well-thought-out scheme for her escape to a boat in the harbor, which he promised to have waiting at an appointed place and date.

  He told her distinctly he would never fight for the king against his own countrymen but that nevertheless, he was ready to resign his commission, abandon his promising career, marry her straightaway (consent or no consent) then retire to Albany and practice law till the end of the war.

  “It shall never be said of Aaron Burr,” he concluded, “that he proved himself recreant in the hour of trial. Though my heart strings be torn asunder, though my beloved should perish before my eyes, though I be burnt with fire, yet will I be true.”

  The very next night the British landed in New York. All the following day the battle of Long Island raged up and down the river.

  Again Major Burr distinguished himself by personal gallantry in action and astute presence of mind in the presence of difficulty. He saved an entire brigade from capture or destruction by leading it out of an untenable position. This brigade was under the direct command of General Knox, who from that day forward, became Burr's bitterest enemy.

  Throughout that wild and dismal night, with thoughts of Margaret nerving him on, Major Burr “galloped through the red infernal powder smoke— and his broadsword was swinging, and his brazen throat was ringing—trumpet loud.”

  IX

  Marriage by Compulsion

  And what is it but a rape

  To force a maid to marry?

  New York City was captured by the enemy (as Burr foresaw) and held by them till the conclusion of the war in 1783.

  The vacating American garrison, under Generals Lord Stirling, Putnam and Knox, slowly retired inland. Thereafter Putnam's headquarters became the headquarters of the British garrison, and nearby, to it but further down the street, Major Moncrieffe, took up his residence with his partly convalescent daughter, Margaret, and her governess.

  Within a month of the occupation Margaret had made two daring attempts to escape through the lines and reach and rejoin her lover.

  On each occasion she had been brought back, once by the officer on night duty at Richmond Hill, and the last time by her father and Earl Percy, both of whom had galloped after her far beyond the outer lines.

  In returning they had been pursued up to the very muskets of their own men by a party of American scouts, led on by Burr, who had been impatiently waiting for her at the appointed rendezvous.

  Now, upon a couch in her father's drawing room she lay, bound a prisoner, a captive, fastened firmly by a series of military saddle straps, two around her ankles, two around her wrists, and two more around her body. Sullenly she lay there unable to move, yet dressed as if for a long journey. Her wavy, lustrous, sun-red hair, was spread in a disheveled mass over the pillow. Her breast heaved with emotion and her face was red with anger, vexation and weeping.

  Her father stood by her side, dressed in the blue and green uniform of the Royal Engineers. A look of pain, yet of inexorable resolution overspread his face.

  Major Moncrieffe was a soldierly looking man, splendidly built, over six feet in height, and about forty years old. He had a hard, steely, handsome expression, and his teeth, when he smiled, were very prominent. His nose was shaped like that of an eagle, his eyes were grey and bold, his face tanned and ruddy and his entire general appearance that of a man of action—a masterful man—a man who knew the world and all its ways; and was not to be lightly trifled with. There was nerve, tempered nerve, and aggressiveness in this man. Indeed, it was written all over him: “this is a man of iron.”

  He leaned forward toward his daughter, stroked her hair kindly and kissed her tenderly. Then he drew a chair nearer the couch upon which she was fastened and sat down.

  Great tears stood in Margaret's big brown eyes and she looked at her father reproachfully, but not alarmed saying:

  “O, father, father, why do you bind me like this?”

  “Margaret,” he answered, “my wild and wayward daughter, you are becoming every day more unmanageable. If you were a son of mine I would know better how to handle you—but you are a girl, and there is now no one here to look after you properly. Your dear mother is dead and I can see that I must marry you to somebody. Nothing else can I do to save you from yourself.”

  “O father, send me to Major Burr,” she answered, and a pleased look came over her face.

  “Maggie,” he went on, “your mother died when you were young, and with my last wife you could not agree. Your bringing up, therefore, has given me much anxiety, more than you can comprehend. Now that you are growing into womanhood my anxiety on your account is becoming agonizing. I have, therefore determined to marry you to some worthy man and thus save you from your own headstrong will, and my family from disgrace.

  “I have selected Captain Coglan, a rising officer of the navy, a man who has sailed around the world with Captain Cook and aided in the discovery of Australia and New Zealand. Captain Coglan has already asked me for your hand. I am under special obligations to him and have therefore promised that he shall have you.

  “At any moment I may be ordered away from here on duty. I will probably be sent down to build the defenses of Charleston and Savannah, and it would never do for me to leave you in New York without some female relative, older than yourself, to take care of you and guard you from those who would take unfair advantage of your girlish enthusiasms and want of knowledge of the world. I will not hand you over to the Livingstons (with whom I have quarrelled) and to take you with me is impossible.

  “The fortunes of war and every circumstance demand your immediate marriage to someone, Margaret.”

  “But my father,” she replied weeping, “you know I love Major Burr. Do let me go to him. In his last letter he says he is ready to marry me at once if I will come outside the British lines.”

  “Margaret,” he replied, as a scowl of anger came over his countenance, “you know what I have said to you about Major Burr. Rather than see you marry a rebel, I would see you dead. However, I have told you long ago that if Major Burr will come over to the King's side, I will give you to him and also guarantee him a Colonel's commission in the infantry. My family influence with Howe and Cornwallis is sufficient for that.”

  “He will never come over, father, not even for me. Therefore let me go to him. Please—please, do send me to him, through the lines under a flag of truce.”

  “It can never be Margaret—never. More especially now that Coglan demands you. Coglan knows important secrets of my life and it is in his power to absolutely ruin me. He knows that General Washington and I have been secretly in communication with regard to my New York property. Washington offered me through your uncle, Judge Livingston, the command that was given to my brother-in-law, the unfortunate General Montgomery. He has also offered to make me his Engineer General if I would join him. Coglan knows all these things and more.

  “Coglan can thus hang me as a rebel and traitor to the King. Do you understand? You must marry Coglan, therefore, or I must either hang, or desert to the American side. Now, Margaret, do you wish to see your father swing on the Traitor's Tree at Tyburn Hill, o
r to the yardarm of the Admiral's flagship?”

  “O, no, my father, that would be too awful,” she answered, and the big round tears flowed afresh. “O, father, how I detest that man Coglan. I could kill him, he is so hateful to me. Let me up, father, give me one of your pistols and I will go and shoot him— yes, I will shoot him dead. I—I hear his voice even now. He is in the parlor there with Lady Betty Percy and Mrs. Monteith. O, father, father, please, O, please, give me a pistol and let me up.”

  “Now Margaret, be a sensible girl. You are my beloved and only daughter—my love for you is without question. I wish for your welfare. You are and have ever been as the apple of my eye and though I have tied you here, I shall do you no hurt. You know if you killed Captain Coglan, you would be executed for murder and then the cause of the trouble would be investigated, whereupon the whole story of my intrigue with the rebels would be exposed. Margaret, do be reasonable, and accept Captain Coglan as I wish. Without question he is a brave, handsome and dashing officer, and well connected.”

  “I wont, my father,” she replied hysterically.

  “But you MUST. I command it and I shall be obeyed,” said Major Moncrieffe sternly.

  “O, father, dear father don't force me to marry this abominable man. It will break my heart father, it will break my heart.”

  “Margaret,” he replied, “don’t be so emotional. You will have to marry him if I have to handcuff you during the ceremony. I have said it. I have pledged my word to him and I will keep it. So you had better make up your mind to obey me, for I’ve made all the arrangements. If you refuse to marry him voluntarily, or attempt to create a scene, then I will use other and harsher methods—methods I would rather not use if I can possibly avoid them. I have had you bound where you now are (not for the first time) to tame you and teach you that my will is law in this household. Nevertheless, it is my sincere wish to see the ceremony proceed quietly and without scandal. Therefore, I ask you for the last time to obey me quietly.”

  “If you make me that hateful man's wife by force father, you will make my whole life miserable,” she replied, sobbing wildly.

  “Can't help it my daughter. I have no other choice. You must be married to someone. I gave you a month to choose from among the other officers, and you refused to select. Now I have selected one for you. He is in his way a good strong man, a man quite capable of controlling even you. Now Margaret be sensible and do as I wish. You know very well I would do nothing that I thought would injure you permanently. What I am now doing, I am doing for the best.”

  “Will you marry me laying bound here, father?”

  “I will. I have explained all the circumstances to the Reverend Doctor Auchtmuchty. He is my best friend. The others also understand and will bear me out, for I am acting strictly within my paternal rights. Until you are 21, I am your guardian. You are my flesh and blood. You are the daughter of my first love. Now I say you must be married, Margaret, this very hour. Your own condition and my future career all demand it.”

  Major Moncrieffe spoke with the tone and look of a man who had steeled himself to go through anything, who also knew that perhaps he was committing a mistake, but nevertheless had determined to “chance it.” From his own point of view there was no other way, and he firmly believed Margaret would finally become reconciled to the handsome Captain.

  “But, my father,” answered Margaret, “why not let me go to Major Burr, the man I love, the man of my choice?”

  “Margaret,” said Major Moncrieffe, “you are young and foolish. He could not marry you without my consent. To marry a girl of 16 is against the American law, also. As to love, poor girl, you think it is all in all like many others, but you are mistaken. It is the instinct of all women to over-glorify this passion, but as they get older they learn better. Then it is often too late to learn, for youth and good looks are fleeting. In spite of all the sentiment that is written or spoken, I assure you, my dear daughter, that there is nothing more inconstant than love, except it is the weathercock on the church steeple. Love is as the wind that blows. Love is as transient as the shadow that flies when clouds sweep the moon and storms prepare. The passions of men and women are constant NEVER. All is change. Today it is love, tomorrow hate. Some day you will learn this, even as I have learnt it.

  “I am sure this young rebel officer will quickly forget you, and you must forget him. Even if he did save your life, remember that I also claim some of your gratitude and devotion, for, was it not I, Margaret, who gave you that life?

  “Do as I wish, therefore, and save all further trouble.”

  A furtive tear glistened for a moment in the strong man's eye as he gazed down upon his daughter and thought of her mother and “the long ago.”

  “O, my father, my father, have mercy upon me. Do not be so hard. Do not break my heart entirely. Do not destroy my happiness forever.”

  “Maggie,” he answered, “you are in bad health, though a beautiful girl. You are just entering upon womanhood and all your best days are before you. You are a brave girl too, and just as headstrong as your dear dead mother. You have all the strong tameless spirit of her family and mine. You are a true Moncrieffe and such as you never yet died of a broken heart, because of unrealized love. Your blood is too rich and strong for that. The life within you is too mighty. By the time you are 20, and a mother, you will learn the mockery of romantic love. As the old doctor says, marriage is the cure for your malady of brain and body.”

  “O, father, father, father,” was all the answer Margaret could make. Then she wept and moaned for about ten minutes while her father (accustomed to such outbreaks in women) patiently sat and waited. After she became calmer, he again spoke, saying:

  “My daughter, I cannot argue with you forever. It is a waste of time to talk any more. I have made up my mind absolutely. You shall marry Captain Coglan and you shall marry him now.”

  “In the next room is the Rev'd. Auchtmuchty of Trinity Church, also Captain Coglan, two of your maiden aunts, Earl Percy, your brother, Colonel Monteith and Mrs. Monteith, and your governess. Here is the special license, issued this morning by my friend, Sir William Tryon, the Civil Governor. Now will you rise up and go through with it in peace, or shall you remain bound?”

  “O father, do have pity on me,” she answered. “Doctor Auchtmuchty confirmed me, but he can only wed my hand to Captain Coglan, never my heart. That is in the keeping of Aaron Burr.”

  “That is merely sentiment, Margaret, nothing more. When the ceremony is over Captain Coglan will be your lawful husband. It will then depend on yourself whether your married life is happy or miserable. I would advise you to bend to the inevitable. After all, Coglan has many good qualities, and I believe he really loves you, but he is not an expert in love- making. If you treat him well you will have no reason to regret my selection. After the ceremony him only must you serve and obey, or bring your father's grey hairs in sorrow to the grave.”

  “I cannot marry him father. I can never love him. I can never honor him. I can never obey him. I would rather poison him. If he compels me to marry him he is the murderer of my soul.” She said this with fierce emphasis, while the fire flashed from her eyes.

  “Your head is turned with those silly nurse-girl romances that you have been reading, else you would not be so obstinate. I may tell you that your passage is arranged on the packet sailing for London tomorrow. You will go to Cork with Captain Coglan as his wife. There his brother is Alderman and Admirality contractor. From thence you will go via Killarney Lakes to Dublin, where my own brother is Lord Mayor. You will travel in the best of style and it will be your own fault if you do not enjoy your honeymoon trip.”

  Major Moncrieffe then arose and said to her: “For the last time, I ask you Margaret. Will you go through the ceremony of marriage where you are, or shall I unbind you?”

  Finding that her father's will could not be conquered, either by words or tears, she gave in and answered sullenly:

  “Yes, father, I will go through with i
t. With hatred in my heart, yet I will wreathe my face with smiles. I will do it for your sake father. Please unbuckle the straps and let me up, before you open the door to let them all in. O, how I hate that man, father, but I will harden my heart. I will be as marble, and as cold.”

  Whereupon Major Moncrieffe said: “Remember now my daughter, that as soon as you have signed you name and finished the ceremony, Coglan is under contract to give to me the cipher letters and other documents which make my property and future standing secure.”

  “I understand father,” she answered. “He will give you the papers, but I will be even with him hereafter.”

  “You promise, Margaret to do as I wish?” he said.

  “I do,” she replied.

  Major Moncrieffe, much relieved, unbuckled the saddle straps that held her prisoner. As soon as she regained her feet, she stepped forward and wound her arms around her pleased father's neck and kissed him, saying:

  “Captain Coglan, father, is your enemy as well as mine. I can see it; I know it; I feel it. He holds you under compulsion, and me also. He takes me by force as it were. O, how I hate him father, how I long to slay him. O, some day I will have my revenge. I will pay him out. He shall live and die in a tideway of torment.”

  “My dear little fire-the-braes,” he said as he kissed her kindly, “I am sorry for you, but am sure you will get over it all. Time is the physician that cures all human woes.”

  Then he went over and opened the door, greeting his guests with characteristic urbanity and graciousness.

  Within 10 days Aaron Burr received in cypher from Margaret Moncrieffe a detailed account of her forcible marriage to Captain Coglan. He did not straightway fall down and die of a broken heart, for that was not his way. Nevertheless, he felt the stunning blow that had fallen upon him. It pierced him to the marrow. It was his first experience with defeat. While it had a sobering effect upon him, he never uttered a murmur to any one. He smiled as usual and went his way and hid his secret sorrow and keen disappointment deep in his own heart.