FICTION OF THE CELESTE BEALE AND THOMAS BEALE DIARY

[TN_Guest1523]

Three Beale researchers walk into a bar.
The bar tender asked what will you have?
The first answers, brandy, that is what Lafitte would drink.
No, no, replies the second, is was absinthe.
Beale's Party would be drinking moonshine from the Peaks of Otter, its all about Virginia, you know, replied the third.
It was a French thing with Bonaparte connexions.
Yes, but in involved Girard's opium trade with Mexico Sherman taking it to Bedford county.
But with Graham as a part of a international government banker conspiracy.
Are you talking about the Beale Papers the bar tender inquired?
Beale was just a delivery boy, a pawn in their game.
No, Beale was really Lafitte.
I solved the ciphers and its all about Peter Fitch and Reine Lister.
The bar tender delivered glasses of what he believed the three ordered.
They all complained that their order was wrong, it wasn't what Thomas Beale, sometimes with a "J" would drink.
I'll tell you what Beale would have drank replied the bartender, if you all what to go all the way into the Beale treasure mystery.
Dumfounded by the bartenders retort, they stared back open mouthed like a foundering carp on land.
I'll tell you as the bartender spun around, jumped up and down, landed upon the bar, staring down at the three.
Nothing, Beale drank nothing. It was only a dime novel sold to raise funds for a Mason charity, and you all have wasted years in search of a fantasy.
So where are our drinks?

I think you may want to look into child fiction authoring. With some help you too can be a author like me. You may wish to learn proper punctuation though.

 

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[Rebel - KGC]

Three Beale researchers walk into a bar.
The bar tender asked what will you have?
The first answers, brandy, that is what Lafitte would drink.
No, no, replies the second, is was absinthe.
Beale's Party would be drinking moonshine from the Peaks of Otter, its all about Virginia, you know, replied the third.
It was a French thing with Bonaparte connexions.
Yes, but in involved Girard's opium trade with Mexico Sherman taking it to Bedford county.
But with Graham as a part of a international government banker conspiracy.
Are you talking about the Beale Papers the bar tender inquired?
Beale was just a delivery boy, a pawn in their game.
No, Beale was really Lafitte.
I solved the ciphers and its all about Peter Fitch and Reine Lister.
The bar tender delivered glasses of what he believed the three ordered.
They all complained that their order was wrong, it wasn't what Thomas Beale, sometimes with a "J" would drink.
I'll tell you what Beale would have drank replied the bartender, if you all what to go all the way into the Beale treasure mystery.
Dumfounded by the bartenders retort, they stared back open mouthed like a foundering carp on land.
I'll tell you as the bartender spun around, jumped up and down, landed upon the bar, staring down at the three.
Nothing, Beale drank nothing. It was only a dime novel sold to raise funds for a Mason charity, and you all have wasted years in search of a fantasy.
So where are our drinks?

At the TIKI BAR! FUN, FUN, FUN! Beach Boys are singing; Snooky & Tiny Weenie Meanie are dancing...

 

[bigscoop]

Three Beale researchers walk into a bar.
The bar tender asked what will you have?
The first answers, brandy, that is what Lafitte would drink.
No, no, replies the second, is was absinthe.
Beale's Party would be drinking moonshine from the Peaks of Otter, its all about Virginia, you know, replied the third.
It was a French thing with Bonaparte connexions.
Yes, but in involved Girard's opium trade with Mexico Sherman taking it to Bedford county.
But with Graham as a part of a international government banker conspiracy.
Are you talking about the Beale Papers the bar tender inquired?
Beale was just a delivery boy, a pawn in their game.
No, Beale was really Lafitte.
I solved the ciphers and its all about Peter Fitch and Reine Lister.
The bar tender delivered glasses of what he believed the three ordered.
They all complained that their order was wrong, it wasn't what Thomas Beale, sometimes with a "J" would drink.
I'll tell you what Beale would have drank replied the bartender, if you all what to go all the way into the Beale treasure mystery.
Dumfounded by the bartenders retort, they stared back open mouthed like a foundering carp on land.
I'll tell you as the bartender spun around, jumped up and down, landed upon the bar, staring down at the three.
Nothing, Beale drank nothing. It was only a dime novel sold to raise funds for a Mason charity, and you all have wasted years in search of a fantasy.
So where are our drinks?

And the bartender's name was....."Grandpa Risque!"

 

[bigscoop]

There's a breezy nip in the autumn air outside, the colors of fall illuminating the trees. Inside the fabulous library another log is tossed on the fire, a bit more tobacco stuffed into the pipe. “Grandpa,” the inquisitive young man asked, “do you remember Robert Morriss?”


“Why, yes. Yes I do. Why do you ask?”


“Well, some years ago I interviewed him about a strange and remarkable occurrence. Then, only yesterday I traveled to Richmond to interview a Thomas J. Beale. Seems their remarkable story is one in the same so I've been thinking about writing a novel for parlor entertainment only.”


“Hmmm,” the old man ponders. “Well, the ads will be expensive and I seriously doubt you would recover enough sales to recoup your cost. And besides, you have no experience at all in writing such dribble.” All good points the young man considers.


“But grandpa, I was reviewing your fabulous library and all of the literary devices within and I think I can write the story using all of these various devices as props by including only our family bloodline, Morriss, our buddy Max, Clay, Coles, Jackson, Witcher, and even Chief Justice Marshall, and the like.”


“Wait just a minute there, grandson. Those people are not in our family bloodline.”


“Oh darn, you're right. But I wish they were. Never mind.”


Another log on the fire, more tobacco stuffed into the pipe.

 

[ECS]

At the TIKI BAR! FUN, FUN, FUN! Beach Boys are singing; Snooky & Tiny Weenie Meanie are dancing...

...while PIPER & THE PIPETTES warm up, preparing to debut their comeback song, "When Does Is Dose".

 

[releventchair]

"Gran-son " the old man said, watching the flames and pausing to blow a smoke ring, then holding his pipe out towards the boy.
"Our name is Risque. Like the game of who can hold their hand closest to the candle flame.
Girard played his hand over seas but we stayed here and this here tobacco won out.
How that happened has a reason boy.
Figure that out and write it in your book. Just have a mind you don't name proper names."

 

[Rebel - KGC]

"Gran-son " the old man said, watching the flames and pausing to blow a smoke ring, then holding his pipe out towards the boy.
"Our name is Risque. Like the game of who can hold their hand closest to the candle flame.
Girard played his hand over seas but we stayed here and this here tobacco won out.
How that happened has a reason boy.
Figure that out and write it in your book. Just have a mind you don't name proper names."

"Is that WACKY TOBACCY...?"

 

[bigscoop]

"Did you know," Grandpa Risque says while pointing to a secret scripture upon a shelf in his fabulous library, "that the Oregon Trail had been know about, and frequently traveled, since some 30 years before Fremont's famed expeditions?" Grandpa stuffs more tobacco into his pipe, slides his feet atop his heavy oak desk as he leans back into his comfortable leather chair, "It's all true, even documented."

Ward appears puzzled, flabbergasted and curious. "But I thought men like Lewis and Clark and Fremont had opened those trails?"

Grandpa chuckles, takes a slow drag from his smoldering pipe, "But of course you did. What I have told you about limiting yourself to just the internet. Have you learned nothing from my French bloodlines?"

 

[ECS]

... With some help you too can be a author like me...

Now that was a good one!

 

[ECS]

... Grandpa Risque says... Have you learned nothing from my French bloodlines?"

"Yes", replied Ward," To never listen to those Bonapartists and their crazy talk".
"that's right. First and foremost we are Virginians, Sic Semper Tyrannis"!

 

[ECS]

Sitting behind a large Mahogany desk, Stephen Girard stroked the white Persian cat in his lap. Sitting across from Girard was William Patterson, of the Canton Company, who traveled from Baltimore to Philadelphia for this meeting.
"It is time to execute Operation Bigscoop", Girard coldly stated, "Sending Little Dipper now to meet with Lafitte in Galveston for the distribution is of he utmost importance".
"It will be done", replied Patterson.

 

[releventchair]

["Yes", replied Ward," To never listen to those Bonapartists and their crazy talk".
"that's right. First and foremost we are Virginians, Sic Semper Tyrannis"!}


"But sir" the boy interrupted,"Huguenots been here since the seventeen hundreds, your from France since ain cha? an you ain't Bourbon, least according to what Persigny wrote about your poppa so what was you from?"

Gramps coughed and spat in the fire. "Them Hugo's are more odious than the Spaniards! Leastwise the Spaniols got a decent religion and sides them Yugo's don't amount to beans in the scheme of things around business here bouts.
French that matters was establishing somethin proper hy'ar and got the short end of the stick for doin it!"
Now fetch that mission wine out the cellar boy. Ther's more to tell of ships and gold and wars and politics than you can write here shortly.."

 

[TN_Guest1523]

Now that was a good one!

LOL

 

[releventchair]

"Here tis sir, and a glass".
"Thank ye boy now get cher pencil.
England got nigh ta burstin when it's folks quit their colonisin sytem. No more demandin what shipped where at such a price or another'n, tax this tax that and a stamp a fixed to it it ta boot.
Baaccy was our'n ,cotton was ta othern's.
All took hands to work it.
Cain't steam engine cotton nor baccy, no tain't doable.
So when folks seen it comin to slaves revoltin an England and other societies a cheerin em on they seed what was a commin.
Some few got ta figurin what could be kept bottled tight till time followed the worlds fighting amounst themselves and then sell to the world?
So's that baccy land and cotton land was got rid of far's ta holdin title to an a plan was come up with to secure certain folks's futures.
We dint own ships we hired em. Connexions all over the world.
Somethin needed from one end o the contry ta the other'n ,no hich in it an right quick too.
Just what was to be a a needin by who down tha road, an when an whar is what was come up wid, and how to turn a nickle in the doin to top it off."

 

[bigscoop]

"Grandpa," J.B. muttered while eyeing the unorganized mess upon the shelves of pappa's library, "you should go to Joseph's again, and while there, ask him how he installed order his much larger library."

Grandpa sits up and twist around in his seat to eye his nephew, "Shhhhh. Someone in the future could be eavesdropping on this conversation."

 

[ECS]

With Operation Bigscoop underway, Girard indulged in a cup of old bullion cube broth.
"I love the smell of old bullion cube broth in the morning", he thought, "it smell like victory".
Girard's mind then wandered to that special exile in Brazil, and if he could be induced into the master plan.
If he could, fine, if not, there are many others that can be manipulated to take part.

 

[bigscoop]

Grandpa Risque, fitting to all of the local lore and romance of the area, was a wily and crafty character. However, young J.B's questions were starting to hit too close to the bone. Heaven forbid the young man ever discovered that Grandpa had once held secret business with Joseph, and also George Graham while he was in Richmond, Virgina. Damn!

 

[releventchair]

With Operation Bigscoop underway, Girard indulged in a cup of old bullion cube broth.
"I love the smell of old bullion cube broth in the morning", he thought, "it smell like victory".
Girard's mind then wandered to that special exile in Brazil, and if he could be induced into the master plan.
If he could, fine, if not, there are many others that can be manipulated to take part.

"Oh Bullion cube that I just drank, the air still host's your salty stank.
A ball of tar, a Meerschaum flue, is all I need.
Well that; and you."

 

[releventchair]

[Just what was to be a a needin by who down tha road, an when an whar is what was come up wid, and how to turn a nickle in the doin to top it off."]

"Now boy what does granny give ya when yer ailin?"
An enema?
"No boy ,not when ya's got a clinker in yer flue, t'other end."
Bullion?
"There ya's got it.
The finest chefs were assembled and they'us snucked off a-way out west to a Galveston son.
Instructions were given for a prize.
Now Lewis and Clark had expeditioned and reconnoitered all overs about the country acquired of late but lacked what all armies do an that's a portable vittle.
They tried desiccated veggies but their troops despised them and called em desecrated..
The challenge was ta come up with a fixen ta make em more'n tolerably well liked.
Afterwards the best product o the contest was wrapped up like Christmas in the purtiest silver an gold wraps and jus ta look at em made folks think they's fancy bullion.
So that's what we called em. Bullions.
Packed em all up in iron pots an the joke was how many chickins or how many cows can ya's pack in a pot!
Jes whistled up a ship to get half of em's here and overlanded wagons with the other'n jes as an insurance.
Cost was silly though draggin em waggins.
Squirreled em up in them mountains yonder till the time was right after the patent-en process and the world was after em!
Second prize went to a somthin called a twinkie..a turd lookin cake that last's like tarnation, an some candy corn of all things foller'd n third.
Some sea-rats in tins or sech a 'nother dint make the cut.

 

[bigscoop]

As young J. B. proceeds to browse among the scattered mess of writings that comprise his grandfather's fabulous library he eventually happens upon a strange document now covered with dust and beginning to fade. The document is in French, a language that young but genius Mr. Ward takes it upon himself to master in just a few minutes. In but a few moments of study he is now fast at work reading in perfect translation;

“George Graham Arrived several weeks past, thus informing us that the United States was about to enter treaty with both the British and Spain and that our services in this desolate place will no longer be required upon the signing of those commercial surrenders. Great conflicts have been fought between these nations over values and principles, the words in the Declaration of Independence, yet now those in Washington have seen fit to trade those values and principles for commerce and borders, the region of Texas forfeited to the highest bidder in the process.

From these efforts, however, Mexico and South America will begin to enjoy their Independence, no doubt the capitalist in the east soon enjoying the fruits of these labors. As for us, we must now lay plans to abandon our various enterprises that made it all possible. The candle is worth the flame, or so they say.

The British have held the emperor, their card of trump, in complete isolation upon that tiny island. I dare say that not a single country will risk taking him in now and I fear his remaining days are all but numbered, to turn him loose would be to risk complete reversals in all that has been recently arranged. The United States, the British, France, Spain, Mexico, South America, and all the expanses of Europe squirm at the very thought of this man's attraction and presence being among them now. No doubt that he will never live to see a distant shore again. No doubt that I must now vanish into thin air, just as promised.

After having taken part and laid witness to all of the debacle and trampling that those in Washington have turned into institution I can hardly place trust or faith in a single word that has been spoken. I sit here now and I wonder if Joseph and Tallyrand and others will ever realize what has been assumed to be promised them for the vital services they have rendered? Not long ago a man's word was worth something, today it is just language more easily spoken then that of a writer who produces complete but compelling fiction. In this; ten-years can easily become an eternity. At the close of this huge enterprise I can place no trust or faith in nay promise that has been and thus I will proceed to install measures of my own design in the event that all is to proceed along different course then that which has already been agreed.

Gold and silver, the very thorns that have been strategically and systematically plucked from the enemy is now to be divided and then distributed among those various interest who have fueled this complex and unspoken corporation called, Liberty, the enemy having paid for its own demise. I doubt very seriously that a portion of this accumulated wealth will ever find its way to some of those who will no doubt feel as if they have earned it. Perhaps in time they will come to realize all they feel that have earned, and with my entire help! I firmly believe that all future events can be controlled with precision and certainty and that there is no power greater then that of the pen.”

Down with the British Dragoon!
Jean Laffite
March, 1821.

Young Mr. Ward sits back in his Grandfather's leather chair, his first taste of his Grandfather's pipe sending his lungs into immediate convulsion and so the pipe is quickly retired. So much for symbols of distinction.

But this latest discovery, and now applying all of his super sleuth, and his not missing a single trick, this letter of profound statement and absolute clarity brings upon young Mr. Ward a conclusion that he can no longer deny. “Jean Laffite must be part of the Risque family bloodline!” as the rain begins to tap and flow all across the windows of the library young Mr. Ward begins to write his remarkable, but entirely fictional, dime novel for parlor entertainment. Another log on the fire, opium now being stuffed into his grandfather's pipe.