CHAPTER VIII
THE PARTING
There were others in Washington who did not sleep that night. A lightburned until sunrise in the little office-room of Thomas Jefferson.Spread upon his desk, covering its litter of unfinished business, laya large map--a map which today would cause any schoolboy to smile, butwhich at that time represented the wisdom of the world regarding theinterior of the great North American continent. It had served toafford anxious study for two men, these many hours.
"Yonder it lies, Captain Lewis!" said Mr. Jefferson at length. "Howvast, how little known! We know our climate and soil here. It is butreasonable to suppose that they exist yonder as they do with us, insome part, at least. If so, yonder are homes for millions now unborn.Had General Bonaparte known the value of that land, he would havefought the world rather than alienate such a region."
The President tapped a long forefinger on the map.
"This, then," he went on, "is your country. Find it out--bring back tome examples of its soil, its products, its vegetable and animal life.Espy out especially for us any strange animals there may be of whichscience has not yet account. I hold it probable that there may beyonder living examples of the mastodon, whose bones we have found inKentucky. You yourself may see those enormous creatures yet alive."
Meriwether Lewis listened in silence. Mr. Jefferson turned to anotherbranch of his theme.
"I fancy that some time there will be a canal built across the isthmusthat binds this continent to the one below--a canal which shallconnect the two great oceans. But that is far in the future. It is foryou to spy out the way now, across the country itself. Exploreit--discover it--it is our new world.
"A few must think for the many," he went on. "I had to smuggle thisappropriation through Congress--twenty-five hundred dollars--the priceof a poor Virginia farm! I have tampered with the Constitution itselfin order to make this purchase of a country not included in ouroriginal territorial lines. I have taken my own chances--just as youmust take yours now. The finger of God will be your guide and yourprotector. Are you ready, Captain Lewis? It is late."
Indeed, the sun was rising over Washington, the mists of morning werereeking along the banks of the Potomac.
"I can start in half an hour," replied Meriwether Lewis.
"Are your men ready, your supplies gathered together?"
"The rendezvous is at Harper's Ferry, up the river. The wagons withthe supplies are ready there. I will take boat from here myself witha few of the men. Not later than tomorrow afternoon I promise that wewill be on our way. We burn the bridges behind us, and cross noneuntil we come to them."
"Spoken like a soldier! It is in your hands. Go then!"
There was one look, one handclasp. The two men parted; nor did theymeet again for years.
Mr. Jefferson did not look from his window to see the departure of hisyoung friend, nor did the latter again call at the door to saygood-by. Theirs was indeed a warrior-like simplicity.
The sun still was young when Meriwether Lewis at length descended thesteps of the Executive Mansion.
He was clad now for his journey, not in buckskin hunting-garb, butwith regard for the conventions of a country by no means free ofconvention. His jacket was of close wool, belted; his boots were highand suitable for riding. His stock, snowy white--for always MeriwetherLewis was immaculate--rose high around his throat, in spite of the hotsummer season, and his hands were gloved. He seemed soldier, leader,officer, and gentleman.
No retinue, however, attended him; no servant was at his side. He wentafoot, and carried with him his most precious luggage--the long riflewhich he never entrusted to any hands save his own. Close wrappedaround the stock, on the crook of his arm, and not yet slung over hisshoulder, was a soiled buckskin pouch, which went always with therifle--the "possible sack" of the wilderness hunter of that time. Itcontained his bullets, bullet-molds, flints, a bar or two of lead,some tinder for priming, a set of awls.
Such was the leader of one of the great expeditions of the world.
Meriwether Lewis had few good-bys to say. He had written but oneletter--to his mother--late the previous morning. It was worded thus:
The day after tomorrow I shall set out for the Western country. I had calculated on the pleasure of visiting you before I started, but circumstances have rendered it impossible. My absence will probably be equal to fifteen or eighteen months.
The nature of this expedition is by no means dangerous. My route will be altogether through tribes of Indians friendly to the United States, therefore I consider the chances of life just as much in my favor as I should conceive them were I to remain at home. The charge of this expedition is honorable to myself, as it is important to my country.
For its fatigues I feel myself perfectly prepared, nor do I doubt my health and strength of constitution to bear me through it. I go with the most perfect preconviction in my own mind of returning safe, and hope, therefore that you will not suffer yourself to indulge in any anxiety for my safety.
I will write again on my arrival at Pittsburgh. Adieu, and believe me your affectionate son.
No regrets, no weak reflections for this man with a warrior's weaponon his arm--where no other burden might lie in all his years. His wereto be the comforts of the trail, the rude associations with commonmen, the terrors of the desert and the mountain; his fireside onlythat of the camp. Yet he advanced to his future steadily, his headhigh, his eye on ahead--a splendid figure of a man.
He did not at first hear the gallop of hoofs on the street behind himas at last, a mile or more from the White House gate, he turned towardthe river front. He was looking at the dull flood of the Potomac, nowvisible below him; but he paused, something appealing to the strangesixth sense of the hunter, and turned.
A rider, a mounted servant, was beckoning to him. Behind the horseman,driven at a stiff gait, came a carriage which seemed to have but asingle occupant. Captain Lewis halted, gazed, then hastened forward,hat in his hand.
"Mrs. Alston!" he exclaimed, as the carriage came up. "Why are youhere? Is there any news?"
"Yes, else I could not have come."
"But why have you come? Tell me!"
He motioned the outrider aside, sprang into the vehicle and told thedriver to draw a little apart from the more public street. Here hecaught up the reins himself, and, ordering the driver to join thefootman at the edge of the roadway they had left, turned to the womanat his side.
"Pardon me," said he, and his voice was cold; "I thought I had cut allties."
"Knit them again for my sake, then, Meriwether Lewis! I have broughtyou a summons to return."
"A summons? From whom?"
"My father--Mr. Merry--Senor Yrujo. They were at our home all night.We could not--they could not--I could not--bear to see you sacrificeyourself. This expedition can only fail! I implore you not to go uponit! Do not let your man's pride drive you!"
She was excited, half sobbing.
"It does drive me, indeed," said he simply. "I am under orders--I amthe leader of this expedition of my government. I do notunderstand----"
"At this hour--on this errand--only one motive could have brought me!It is your interest. Oh, it is not for myself--it is for your future."
"Why did you come thus, unattended? There is something you areconcealing. Tell me!"
"Ah, you are harsh--you have no sympathy, no compassion, no gratitude!But listen, and I will tell you. My father, Mr. Merry, the Spanishminister, are all men of affairs. They have watched the planning ofthis expedition. Why fly in the face of prophecy and of Providence?That is what my father says. He says that country can never be ofbenefit to our Union--that no new States can be made from it. He saysthe people will pass down the Mississippi River, but not beyond it;that it is the natural line of our expansion--that men who are actualsettlers are bound not into the unknown West, but into the well-knownSouth. He begs of you to follow the course of events, and not to flyin the
face of Providence."
"You speak well! Go on."
"England is with us, and Spain--they back my father's plans."
He turned now and raised a hand.
"Plans? What plans? I must warn you, I am pledged to my own country'sservice."
"Is not my father also? He is one of the highest officers in thegovernment of this country."
"You may tell me more or not, as you like."
"There is little more to tell," said she. "These gentlemen have madecertain plans of which I know little. My father said to me that ThomasJefferson himself knows that this purchase from Napoleon cannot bemade under the Constitution of the United States--that, given time forreflection, Mr. Jefferson himself will admit that the Louisianapurchase was but a national folly from which this country cannotbenefit. Why not turn, then, to a future which offers certainties? Whynot come with us, and not attempt the impossible? That is what hesaid. And he asked me to implore you to pause."
He sat motionless, looking straight ahead, as she went on.
"He only besought me to induce you, if I could, either to abandonyour expedition wholly as soon as you honorably might do so, or togo on with it only to such point as will prove it unfeasible andimpracticable. Not wishing you to prove traitorous to a trust,these gentlemen wish you to know that they would value yourassociation--that they would give you splendid opportunity. With mensuch as these, that means a swift future of success for one--forone--whom I shall always cherish warmly in my heart."
The color was full in her face. He turned toward her suddenly, his eyeclouded.
"It is an extraordinary matter in every way which you bring for me,"he said slowly; "extraordinary that foreigners, not friends of thiscountry, should call themselves the friends of an officer sworn to theservice of the republic! I confess I do not understand it. And whysend you?"
"It is difficult for me to tell you. But my father knew the antagonismbetween Mr. Jefferson and himself, and knew your friendship for Mr.Jefferson. He knew also the respect, the pity--oh, what shall Isay?--which I have always felt for you--the regard----"
"Regard! What do you mean?"
"I did not mean regard, but the--the wish to see you succeed, to helpyou, if I could, to take your place among men. I told you that butyesterday."
She was all confusion now. He seemed pitiless.
"I have listened long enough to have my curiosity aroused. I shallhave somewhat to ponder--on the trail to the West."
"Then you mean that you will go on?"
"Yes!"
"You do not understand----"
"No! I understand only that Mr. Jefferson has never abandoned a planor a promise or a friend. Shall I, then, who have been his scholar andhis friend?"
"Ah, you two! What manner of men are you that you will not listen toreason? He is high in power. Will you not also listen to the call ofyour own ambition? Why, in that country below, you might hold astation as proud as that of Mr. Jefferson himself. Will you throw thataway, for the sake of a few dried skins and flowers? You speak ofbeing devoted to your country. What is devotion--what is yourcountry? You have no heart--that I know well; but I credited you withthe brain and the ambition of a man!"
He sat motionless under the sting of her reproaches; and as somereflection came to her upon the savagery of her own words, she laughedbitterly.
"Think you that I would have come here for any other man?" shedemanded. "Think you that I would ask of you anything to my owndishonor, or to your dishonor? But now you do not listen. You will notcome back--even for me!"
In answer he simply bent and kissed her hand, stepped from thecarriage, raised his hat. Yet he hesitated for half an instant andturned back.
"Theodosia," said he, "it is hard for me not to do anything you ask ofme--you do not know how hard; but surely you understand that I am asoldier and am under orders. I have no option. It seems to me that theplans of your father and his friends should be placed at once beforeMr. Jefferson. It is strange they sent you, a woman, as theirmessenger! You have done all that a woman could. No other woman in theworld could have done as much with me. But--my men are waiting forme."
This time he did not turn back again.
* * * * *
Colonel Burr's carriage returned more slowly than it had come. It wasa dejected occupant who at last made her way, still at an early hour,to the door of her father's house.
Burr met her at the door. His keen eye read the answer at once.
"You have failed!" said he.
She raised her dark eyes to his, herself silent, mournful.
"What did he say?" demanded Burr.
"Said he was under orders--said you should go to Mr. Jefferson withyour plan--said Mr. Jefferson alone could stop him. Failed? Yes, Ifailed!"
"You failed," said Burr, "because you did not use the right argumentwith him. The next time _you must not fail_. You must use betterarguments!"
Theodosia stood motionless for an instant, looking at her father, thenpassed back into the house.
"Listen, my daughter," said Burr at length, in his eye a light thatshe never had known before. "You _must_ see that man again, and bringhim back into our camp! We need him. Without him I cannot handleMerry, and without Merry I cannot handle Yrujo. Without them my planis doomed. If it fails, your husband has lost fifty thousand dollarsand all the moneys to which he is pledged beyond that. You and I willbe bankrupt--penniless upon the streets, do you hear?--unless youbring that man back. Granted that all goes well, it means half amillion dollars pledged for my future by Great Britain herself, halfas much pledged by Spain, success and future honor and power for youand me--and him. He _must_ come back! That expedition must not gobeyond the Mississippi. You ask me what to tell him? Ask him no longerto return to us and opportunity. _Ask him to come back to TheodosiaBurr and happiness_--do you understand?"
"Sir," said his daughter, "I think--I think I do not understand!"
He seemed not to hear her--or to toss her answer aside.
"You must try again," said he, "and with the right weapons--the oldones, my dear--the old weapons of a woman!"