Track 28: A dinner party. Burr tries to be charming; Jefferson insults him subtly. The realization he is alone.
A toast!
To the Union!
The wine is imported. The food is divine.
The company is… well, not exactly mine.
I sit at the table with Madison and Gallatin.
While Jefferson spins a philosophical pattern.
He talks about farming. He talks about art.
He talks about everything except for the heart
Of the matter. The fact that I’m sitting right here.
The man who delivered his election year.
The Toast.
Raise a glass to the host.
The man who loves humanity but hates people.
The man who builds a temple but tears down the steeple.
"To the Vice President," he says with a sneer.
"May his journey be… interesting… this coming year."
The Toast.
It tastes like vinegar.
I try to engage. "Mr. President, sir.
About the judiciary, I might incur…"
He cuts me off gently. "Aaron, please eat.
We don't talk of business when the melon is sweet."
He treats me like a child at the grown-ups' affair.
I can feel the static in the humid air.
He looks at me like I’m a stain on the rug.
I want to shatter the glass and the jug.
He leans in close.
"You know, Colonel Burr.
Trust is a delicate flower.
It withers so easily in the corridors of power."
Is that a threat?
Or just a philosophy?
The Toast.
Raise a glass to the host.
I drink the wine and I swallow the rage.
I’m just an actor on his little stage.
The Toast.
Checkmate.
Excuse me.
I have a headache.