The Rose of Old St. Louis Part 21

"Then our ways lie together. Are you acquainted in Was.h.i.+ngton?"

"Somewhat, sir."

I began to think this rather a surly farmer, he was so chary of words, so I looked at him more narrowly. But I saw nothing surly in his face.

Indeed, at a second glance, I decided it was as fine a face, its features as clearly chiseled, as one often sees, and the eyes, beneath the broad white brow, were full, open, and benignant.

"He is no ordinary farmer," I said to myself, "but most like a wealthy Virginia planter of education and social standing, but careless in matters of dress." Therefore I addressed him with a shade more of respect than I had hitherto used:

"I am a stranger in Was.h.i.+ngton, sir," I said, "and if you are better acquainted here, I thought perhaps you would be so good as to tell me something of the city."

He unbent immediately, and not only pointed out every object of interest on the road, but in a very delicate and gentlemanly manner proceeded also to pump me as to my name and errand in Was.h.i.+ngton. I was not more amused at his curiosity than at the skilful method he employed in trying to satisfy it, but, as I flattered myself, I gave him but little satisfaction.

In reply to some question of mine about the debate in Congress on the Mississippi question, he gave me such a masterly exposition of the whole subject, so clearly and concisely put into a nutsh.e.l.l, I began to think my eccentric planter was a political genius, possibly a member of Congress, though if so I thought his horse was headed the wrong way.

But evidently I had lighted unwittingly upon a rich mine of information. It was never my way to neglect my opportunities, and I began at once to ply him with questions about men and things in Was.h.i.+ngton. Last of all, I asked him about Mr. Jefferson.

Now my family was not of Mr. Jefferson's party: we were ardent admirers and strong partizans of Mr. Hamilton. Not that we had any fault to find with Mr. Jefferson, except for his quarrel with Hamilton. But bethinking me that it was quite possible my planter might be a "Democrat," as Mr. Jefferson calls his party, I spoke guardedly, I thought.

"Can you tell me something of the President, sir? Do you admire him?

And is it true he is such a sloven in dress as they say he is?"

I could not tell from his face whether he were Democrat or Whig, for it changed not a whit. He answered readily:

"I know Mr. Jefferson quite well. I can hardly say whether I admire him or not, but I like him. In fact, he is quite a friend of mine. As to his being a sloven in dress, is that what they say about him? He dresses as well as I do: would you call that being a sloven?"

"Not at all, sir, not at all!" I answered quickly; but to myself I said, "If he dresses no better, G.o.d help us!" I added aloud:

"I hope, sir, what I have said about the President has not offended you, since he is a friend of yours. I have never seen him, and was only repeating the general report."

The stream of people that had been setting eastward earlier in the morning had ceased entirely. We had ridden on some distance without meeting any one, but at this moment we met two gentlemen on horseback, and both took off their hats and kept them off until we had pa.s.sed. I thought it probable that from my fine clothes (which, though plain, were of undeniable elegance) they took me for a stranger of distinction, and I bowed most graciously in return. My farmer friend but touched his hat with his riding-whip, and then pointed off through the woods to where we could see the chimneys of a large house, on the banks of the river.

"That," he said, "is Mr. Law's mansion. You may have heard of him?"

"Oh, yes," I answered; "he married Miss Custis, and I used to know her quite well, when we were both children."

We mounted a little elevation in the road, not enough to be called a hill, but enough to give a more extended view over the wide acres of brick-kilns and huts of laborers and dismal waste land unfenced and uncultivated. To the east, in the direction of the Capitol, he pointed out the towers of Doddington Manor, the house of Daniel Carroll. We had pa.s.sed so many houses that seemed to me but little more than hovels or barracks that it was a relief to me to see from Mr. Law's and Mr. Carroll's places that there were some gentlemen's residences in the capital. When I said something of the kind to my guide, he replied, with some asperity, that there were many gentlemen's residences at Alexandria and Arlington and Georgetown, only a short gallop away, and that it would not be many years until Was.h.i.+ngton itself could claim as many as New York or Philadelphia.

I saw he was one of those violent partizans of the "ten-mile square"

(probably because his farm lay somewhere near), so discreetly turned the discourse, since I did not want to bring up the vexed question of the superior merits of New York, Philadelphia, and the ten-mile square as a seat for the capital.

By this time the President's Palace was in full view, and a beautiful building it was, looking very large and very white, and, it must be confessed, very bare, since there were no gardens surrounding it, nothing but mud in front and marsh behind, between it and the Potomac.

Fatima picked her way daintily through the mud, often half stopping for better footing (as if she knew she must not bespatter me when I was going to call at the President's house), and by that means the farmer's powerful horse (who seemed not to mind the mud, knowing there was no finery to be hurt by it) got well ahead. I was myself so much engaged with the badness of the road that I did not, for a few minutes, look up. When I did, I observed that two orderlies were holding the farmer's horse, from which he had just dismounted, while the farmer himself stood on the steps awaiting my approach. One orderly led his horse away as I rode up, but the exclamation of disgust for the mud that rose to my lips never pa.s.sed them. As I glanced up at this "farmer" in corduroy small-clothes, red plush waistcoat, rough riding-boots splashed with mud, he had suddenly grown tall and majestic.

"Orderly, take this gentleman's horse to the stable!" he said, with an air of command, and then turned to me with stately dignity.

"Welcome to the White House, my young Philadelphia friend," he said, and smiled.

For my confusion knew no bounds. I was never quick where a puzzle or trick was concerned, but now it slowly dawned upon me that my farmer friend was the President of the United States! and I had been criticizing him to his face, and talking flippantly to him, and even superciliously. My consternation grew; I knew not what was the proper thing to do, but I stammered out the most abject apology I could think of.

Mr. Jefferson only laughed at my confusion.

"Come, come, sir," he said genially, "there is no great harm done.

Don't you suppose I know what people say of me? You were only repeating the 'general report,' you know." And then he added seriously, as he saw my confusion was but increased by his raillery:

"Where no offense is intended, sir, none is taken. I beg you will enter the White House, and I will send my secretary to you, Mr.

Meriwether Lewis."

As he spoke he led the way into the house and into a very large and beautiful room, with a full-length portrait of General Was.h.i.+ngton on the walls.

"I shall hope to see you later," he said pleasantly as he left me; "if I mistake not, I have some communications of interest for you." Then he turned and went up the grand staircase and left me alone to my miserable pastime of recalling every word and every incident of that wretched ride to the White House, and from not one of them could I extract an atom of comfort to soothe my wounded self-esteem.

CHAPTER XVII

A GREAT DEBATE

They "of the western dome, whose weighty sense Flows in fit words and heavenly eloquence."

I had been so abashed by my wretched mistake that I had not so much as told the President who I was (though, truth to tell, he had not asked me, and it would have been only another impertinence on my part to have volunteered the information). Yet as I sat waiting for young Mr.

Lewis, and reviewing in my mind the miserable events through which I had just pa.s.sed, it suddenly occurred to me as very remarkable that Mr. Jefferson should have known I was from Philadelphia, when I thought I had been so particularly skilful in betraying no fact concerning myself. Moreover, he had not only guessed I was from Philadelphia; he must have guessed my ident.i.ty also, for he had "communications of interest" for me.

My curiosity was now so thoroughly aroused, both as to how the President knew me and what his communications might be, that it began to efface the keenness of my mortification. In the midst of my wondering surmises, Mr. Lewis appeared and greeted me most affably; and when I had presented Captain Clarke's letter of introduction, he was, if possible, more affable still. He was an older-looking man than I had expected to see, and with so much of seriousness in his countenance, and yet of such frankness and earnestness in his manner, that it drew my interest and liking at once.

He was the bearer of a very polite message from the President, inviting me to dinner at the White House at four o'clock that afternoon; and then he proposed that we should set out at once for the Capitol, where, as he said, a debate of special interest was on the calendar.

I was much touched at the generosity of Mr. Jefferson in returning my discourtesy to himself by so courteously placing his secretary at my disposal for my entertainment, and nothing could have pleased me better than Mr. Lewis's proposal. It had been my intention to visit the Capitol as soon as this visit of ceremony should be performed, but to visit it with a guide so much at home as the President's secretary was good luck indeed.

I thought it still better luck when I found that, by Mr. Jefferson's special invitation, we were to sit in a small gallery set aside for the President and his friends, and to which a guard in uniform admitted us with a key. I was much impressed by the exterior of the Capitol (though in such an unfinished state), but when I found myself seated in the seclusion of the President's own private gallery, looking down upon the horseshoe of grave and distinguished senators, I could have wished that one of the ladies (of whom there were a number in the gallery opposite, and who cast many inquisitive glances at the two young men in the President's box) might have been Mademoiselle Pelagie, for I felt sure she would never again think of me as a boy, could she but see me in my present dignified surroundings.

But it was only for a moment that my attention was distracted by the ladies and by thoughts of mademoiselle. A gentleman was speaking (Mr.

Lewis told me it was Mr. Ross of Pennsylvania) in a most impa.s.sioned manner, and the magic word "Mississippi" caught my ear and charmed my attention. Mr. Ross was saying:

"To the free navigation of the Mississippi we have undoubted right, from nature and also from the position of our Western country. This right and the right of deposit in the Island of New Orleans were solemnly acknowledged and fixed by treaty in 1795. That treaty has been in actual operation and execution for many years, and now, without any pretense of abuse or violation on our part, the officers of the Spanish government deny that right, refuse the place of deposit, and add the most offensive of all insults by forbidding us from landing on any part of their territory and shutting us out as a common nuisance. I declare it, therefore, to be my firm and mature opinion that so important a right will never be secure while the mouth of the Mississippi is exclusively in the hands of the Spanish. From the very position of our country, from its geographical shape, from motives of complete independence, the command of the navigation of the river ought to be in our hands.

"We are now wantonly provoked to take it. Hostility in its most offensive shape has been offered us, and hostility fatal to the happiness of the Western World. Why not seize, then, what is so essential to us as a nation? Why not expel the wrong-doers? Paper treaties have proved too feeble. Plant yourselves on the river; fortify the banks; invite those who have an interest at stake to defend it. Do justice to yourselves when your adversaries deny it, and leave the event to Him who controls the fate of nations!"

Ah, how his words burnt my brain! I was for leaving Mr. Lewis in the President's gallery, running down to the great entrance where I had left Fatima in charge of a negro boy, mounting her, and riding straight back to Kentucky. Once there, I was sure it would be an easy matter to raise a company of eager patriots and march at their head down the Great River to the hostile city. But Mr. Ross had not finished, and I could not lose a word of his impa.s.sioned speech:

"Why submit to a tardy and uncertain negotiation--a negotiation with those who have wronged you? When in possession you will negotiate with more advantage. You will then be in the position to keep others out.

The present possessors have no pretense to complain, for they have no right to the country, by their own confession.

"The Western people will discover that you are making every effort they could desire for their protection. They will ardently support you in the contest, if a contest becomes necessary. Their all will be at stake, and neither their zeal nor their courage need be doubted.

"But after negotiations shall have failed; after a powerful, ambitious nation shall have taken possession of the key of their Western country and fortified it; after the garrisons are filled by the veterans who have conquered the East: will you have it in your power to waken the generous spirit of the West and dispossess them? No, no; their confidence in you as their rulers will be gone; they will be disheartened, divided, and will place no further dependence upon you."