by Mary Dillon
CHAPTER II
I PROPOSE A TOAST
"The rose that all are praising."
"And this is the village of St. Louis, sir?"
My discomfiture, my mortification, my rage, the vision of daintybeauty, the strange little savant--every remembrance of my brief visitto Cahokia had been swept away by the rushing waters of the greatriver of which I had read and heard so much.
My brain was teeming with tales of the Spanish adventurer De Soto; ofthe French trader Joliet; of the devoted and saintly Jesuit, belovedof the Indians, Pere Marquette; and of the bold Norman La Salle, whohated and feared all Jesuits. I saw the river through a veil ofromance that gilded its turbid waters, but it was something far otherthan its romantic past that set my pulses to beating, and the bloodrushing through my veins so that I hardly heard my captain's answer,and hardly knew what I replied to him.
Through the months of my sojourn in Kentucky there had been oneall-absorbing theme--the closing of the Mississippi to American boatsby the Spanish, and their refusal to grant us a right of deposit onthe Isle of New Orleans. Feeling had run so high that there weremuttered threats against the government at Washington.
There were two factions, each acting secretly and each numberingthousands. One was for setting off at once down the river to captureNew Orleans and take exclusive possession of both sides of the river;and if the government at Washington would not help them, or, stillworse, forbade them the emprise, they would set up an independentgovernment of the West. The other faction, inspired by secret agentsof the Spanish government, was for floating the Spanish flag andproclaiming themselves subjects of Charles of Aragon. Spain's secretemissaries were eloquent of the neglect of the home government in theEast, and its powerlessness to help the Westerners if it would, and itwas said they clenched their arguments with chink of Spanish gold.Treason and patriotism, a wild indignation at wrongs unredressed, anda wilder enthusiasm for conquest sent the blood of Kentucky tofever-heat. Passions were inflamed until it needed but a spark from atinder to set them ablaze.
With me, friend and distant kinsman of the Clarkes, there was nopossibility of being touched by the taint of treason. But while itwould be treason of the blackest dye, and most abhorrent to my soul,to submit to Spain's rule, to my young blood there could be no treasonin compelling Spain at the point of the sword to submit to ourdemands. I was all for war, and when the cooler judgment of GeneralClarke and his brother, my captain, prevailed to calm for a time thewild tumult of war, I was bitterly disappointed.
Now for the first time I was beholding the river that had aroused themighty tempest in Kentucky, and it was not the tales of De Soto and LaSalle, of Joliet and Pere Marquette, that sent the blood rushingthrough my veins, but the thought that this was the mighty riverforbidden to our commerce, that the swirling brown water at my feetwas rushing down to the Spanish city on the Gulf, and I longed to beone of an army rushing with it to secure our natural and inalienablerights by conquest.
I knew that Captain Clarke was visiting St. Louis to make somearrangements for his brother's debts--debts incurred principally toMr. Gratiot and Mr. Vigo for no benefit to himself, but in rescuingand protecting the people of Illinois from the Indians and theBritish; debts belonging of right to the government, but repudiated byit, and left to be borne by the noble man who, almost alone, by aheroism and genius for war unparalleled had saved all that Westerncountry to the Union.
I knew this was my captain's errand, yet I hoped there might be sometouching on the question of the river navigation with the Spanishgovernor of St. Louis, and I had visions of returning to Kentucky and,amid the acclaims of our fellow-citizens, announcing that CaptainClarke, assisted by his young kinsman, had succeeded in convincing theSpanish governor Delassus of the wrongs inflicted upon Americancommerce by the unjust interdiction; that Delassus had thereuponremonstrated with the intendant at New Orleans, and, as a result, theriver was thrown open to the Gulf, and a port of deposit granted onthe Isle of New Orleans where our merchants might store the goods theybrought down the river for sale.
It was because my brain was teeming with such sweet dreams of glorythat I answered my captain so absent-mindedly and so little to thepoint. It was still so early that the low morning sun at our backs hadjust begun to gild the bluffs before us. We could not have had a finerfirst view of the Spanish town of which we had heard so much. High anddry on its limestone bluffs, where no floods for which the great riveris so famous could ever reach it, it extended in a straggling line fora mile and a half. Its dwellings, some of them of imposing size, wereembowered in trees, and, at that distance, seemed to stand in themidst of large gardens. Behind the village rose another hill, on thesummit of which stood a fort, and from the fort, in either direction,palisades curved around the town, interrupted at intervals bydemilunes, and terminating at the bluffs in stone towers. Behind thissecond terrace the land continued to rise in a succession of terraces,covered partly with low bushes and shrubs and partly with high, wavingwoods, giving an impression of indescribable richness to thelandscape, every detail of which the level rays of the bright morningsun brought out in strong relief. The whole made a most impressiveappearance, more like the picture of walled towns on the Rhine thanlike anything I had seen in our country.
We were now so far out in the stream that the men could no longer usetheir poles, and were trusting to the great sail they had spread tocatch a stiff south-eastern breeze, assisted by vigorous strokes oftheir paddles, and I could see that against the swift current theywere straining every nerve and yet were steadily being borne below thevillage and the landing-place.
Paddling on the Schuylkill and the Delaware was ever a favoritepastime with me, and I doubt not I was a little proud of my skill.Forgetting my recent illness and the weak state it had left me in, Iseized the paddle from a young fellow who seemed to me well-nighgiving over, and unceremoniously tumbled him out of his seat into thebottom of the boat, while I took his place. To my astonishment, Ifound this was an entirely different stream from the steadily flowingrivers of the East. My paddle was like to be snatched from my hand atthe first dip into the powerful current, and though I saved it by amad and desperate clutch, yet it felt like a feather in my hands, andI saw my captain (who had witnessed my peremptory usurpation of thepaddle) trying to suppress a sly smile, while my mortified ears caughtthe sound of derisive snickers behind me, and Yorke, the impudentblack, grinned openly from ear to ear.
The worst of it was, I myself could see we were losing ground morerapidly than before. Now, I had ever a horror of owning myself beaten(unless it were in argument, for I have no skill with words). I wouldfight to the last gasp, but I would never surrender, which issometimes a foolish way, but more often wins victory out of defeat.With my captain looking on, I felt that defeat even in so small amatter would be a disgrace I could never survive. And so, admonishingmyself to keep cool, and remembering a turn of the wrist that an oldIndian had taught me in Pennsylvania, I very soon caught the trick ofthe blade and found myself holding my own. Hope returned, and Igradually put forth more and more strength, until, to my greatsatisfaction, I at last saw that we were no longer driftingdown-stream, but steadily making head against the current, with fairpromise of reaching our landing-place. Then, indeed, did I feelexultant, and such courage leaped through my veins, and so swift andsure and strong were my strokes, that I felt I could alone, with mysingle arm, bring the great boat to harbor. But for the second timethat morning was my vanity my undoing. We did indeed make the landing,where a great concourse of people had gathered to meet us, among thema stately Spanish don (who, I had no doubt, was the governor)surrounded by a retinue of officers; but as the keel of our boatgrounded in the soft mud and my captain called me to come with him tomeet the governor, and I arose in my place to obey him, suddenly agreat blackness and dizziness seized me, and I knew no more until Iopened my eyes to find myself being borne, on the shoulders of fourmen, up the steep bluff toward the village street. I insisted in themost forcible terms on being put
upon my feet at once, but as I spokein English, and the soldiers were either Spanish or creole French, myentreaties and imprecations were lost upon them. Nor did my kickingand pushing avail me any better; they but held me the more firmly formy struggles. Then I called out lustily for help, and the ever-readyYorke (but with the grin that I had learned at times to considerdetestable) ran to my aid.
"Yorke!" I shouted to him; "make the rascals put me down this minute,and do you, sir, shut that _domtiferous_ mouth of yours. I warn you,sir, you grin at your peril!"
My mother had ever a horror of the oaths with which gentlemen lardtheir conversation, and because I loved and honored her greatly, I hadresolved that I would never, to use her words, "sully my mouth" withone. But often feeling the need of some more emphatic expressions thanour language provides except in the form of oaths, I had coined formyself a small vocabulary to be used on occasions requiring greatemphasis. Since these words all began with a _d_, I had thesatisfaction of feeling that I was sufficiently emphatic withoutviolating the respect due my mother.
Whether it was the strangeness of the form of my imprecations or thelength of my adjective that scared Yorke, certain it is that he wassobered at once, and with the solemnity of the Spanish don himself hesoon made the soldiers understand that they must put me down. Once onmy own feet, though I still felt a little shaky, I was able, byavailing myself of Yorke's arm, to climb the steep path leading up thebluff, and soon found myself in the main street of the village, whichthe _habitans_ called the Rue Royale.
We had come out into a large square or marketplace, filled with thethrong of people I had seen at the landing and many more, so that, asthe people surged backward and forward to get a nearer view, the wholeopen space looked like a great posy-bed of many-hued flowers waving ina summer breeze. And if St. Louis had had a foreign look to me whenviewed from a distance, still more did I feel as if I were in astrange town in a strange land as I heard the babble of strangetongues about me and saw the picturesque costumes of the habitans, sounlike anything I had ever seen in Philadelphia or Kentucky. Negroeswere chattering their queer creole patois, and Indians of many nationswere gathered into groups, some of them bedizened with the cheapfinery of the stores, some of them wearing only bright-hued blankets,but with wonderful head-dresses of eagle feathers, and all of themlooking gravely on with a curiosity as silent as that of the habitanswas noisy and babbling. The presence of so many Indians and on suchfriendly terms struck me as strange, for in Kentucky there were nosuch friendly relations between Indians and whites, and the presenceof so many of them would have betokened danger and caused muchuneasiness.
It thrilled me much that our coming should have made so greatexcitement in the village, and doubtless my vanity would have takenfire again if I had not known that it was my captain these people hadcome to see, and not myself, of whom they had never heard. Even mycaptain I knew must shine in a reflected glory, as the brother ofGeneral George Rogers Clarke, whom the people of St. Louis worshipedas their savior in the affair of 1780, when the Osages surprised themen at work in the fields, and whom all the Indians of Illinoisregarded with fear and reverence as the great "Captain of the LongKnives." Yet I could see that many of their curious glances fell on mealso, and I let go of Yorke's arm and walked steadily with my head inthe air, as befitted the friend of Captain Clarke.
We had stopped in front of a large stone building set inside a walledinclosure. My captain, who was in advance with the governor and hisparty, as he entered the inclosure turned and beckoned to Yorke and meto follow him. The throng parted to let us through, and as we enteredthe gates I saw that the governor had stopped on the wide gallery thatran round the four sides of the building, and with a stately flourishwas bidding my captain welcome to Government House.
With Yorke close at my footsteps, I followed the governor's partythrough a wide door into a great room that extended through the house(as I could see by the open doors and windows at the rear), and thatwas almost as wide as it was long, with doors opening into rooms onboth sides. Here I was presented to Governor Delassus, who received mecordially, and who, with his dark eyes and punctilious manners, was myidea of a Spanish don.
On either side of him stood two men who also greeted me cordially, butwithout the punctiliousness of the Spaniard. They were the twoChouteaus, Auguste and Jean Pierre. I had heard much of them, both inPhiladelphia and in Kentucky, and I found it difficult to conceal thecuriosity with which I regarded them. I had expected to find two roughfrontiersmen, somewhat after the manner of Daniel Boone or SimonKenyon, both of whom I had seen at General Clarke's; but they werevery far from that. Auguste, the elder, and who, almost more than hisstep-father, Laclede, was the founder of St. Louis, was the graver ofthe two, with keen, shrewd eyes that betokened the successful man ofbusiness. Pierre (as everybody called the younger) looked not at alllike his brother: taller and slenderer of build, his flashing darkeyes and gay manners must have been inherited from his father,Laclede, for Madame Chouteau (whom I came to know very well later) waseven graver and sterner in manner than her eldest son, Auguste.
But interested as I was in meeting these men,--and there were manyothers of whom I had heard, Manuel Lisa, Gabriel Cerre, Francis Vigo,and Josef Marie Papin,--I could not resist casting many a furtiveglance toward a table set in the rear of the great room. My bowl ofgruel in the early morning had satisfied me at the time, but I wasstill weak from illness and much fasting, and my hard pull at thepaddles had left me famished indeed. It was now, I was quite sure bythe sun and the shadows, nearly eleven o'clock, and I began to feelthe dizziness once more, and to be seized with a terrible fear that Ishould again be overcome. It was with a great joy, therefore, that Ibegan to observe black servants bringing in smoking viands andarranging them upon the table, and no words ever sounded more pleasantin my ears than the governor's invitation to breakfast.
As we were about to sit down, my captain on the governor's right, andI very kindly placed on his left, with Mr. Pierre Chouteau beside me,there was a noise at the door, and Mr. Gratiot and Dr. Saugrainentered. They were welcomed in such fashion it was easy to see theywere both prime favorites in that society. In response to my captain'sinquiries, they said they had left Cahokia very shortly after us,bringing the young ladies over in two small boats, and the boats beinglight and easily handled, they had nearly overtaken us.
At the mention of the young ladies I felt myself flush painfully, andI almost thought the little doctor regarded me with a wicked twinklein his eyes. But I was not sure, and I resolutely put the thought ofthem out of my mind, while I devoted myself to the more seriousmatters of the table.
And, indeed, seldom has it been my lot to sit down to a more deliciousmeal. It was my first taste of French cookery, and I proved then, whatI had often heard, that the French have a talent for savors andseasonings, and for dainty service, denied to us Anglo-Saxons. It maybe, also, that my long fasting (for my light breakfast had hardlybroken my fast) added a sauce to the viands more potent than anyFrenchman's skill, for my appetite had come back with a rush, and forthe first time in many days I ate like a well man, and a very hungryone. So well, forsooth, did I ply my knife and fork that PierreChouteau could not forbear congratulating me, in his polished Frenchmanner, on my prowess as a trencherman; at which I had the grace toblush.
And now, having taken the edge off my hunger, I had leisure to enjoythe swift exchange of wit and repartee flashing back and forth acrossthe table in mixed English, French, and Spanish. There had been manytoasts, most courteously worded and delicately drunk, for I noticedthese Frenchmen were not deep drinkers, and did not feel it necessaryto drain their glasses at every toast, as is the manner in Kentucky.My captain's health had been drunk and he had responded with thegovernor's (nor did our polite hosts forget to honor me), and thegaiety began to grow somewhat noisy, when a youngster, who had, nodoubt, been drinking a little more than was good for him, sprang tohis feet. Waving his goblet toward Yorke (who stood behind CaptainClarke's chair grinning delightedly at every
flash of wit, whether heunderstood it or not), he called out:
"I drink to the health of Monsieur Yorke, gentlemen, tallest and mostsmiling of sable Mercurys. May his inches never be fewer nor hissmiles grow less."
I saw my captain frown, and Yorke, who did not understand one wordthat was said, since it was all in French, easily understood thegesture toward him, and the hesitating glances in his direction, andthe half-lifted glasses as their owners were in doubt whether thetoast was to be taken in jest or earnest. His eyes rolled in terrorfrom the proposer of the toast to Captain Clarke, and back again. Iknew my captain would never brook the indignity of having his healthdrunk at the same table and by the same people who afterward drank hisslave's, and fearing an awkward _contretemps_, I sprang to my feet toavert it. I lifted my glass high as I cried:
"Listen to me, messieurs! Is there no fair lady to whose honor youryoung men would drink? For never could we drink to the ladies afterdrinking to a negro and a slave. I give you, messieurs, the fairestlady in St. Louis!"
As I said it, for one fleeting moment I had a vision of a round whitearm bare to the shoulder, a slender hand grasping a tawny mane, andblack eyes flashing with scorn. Perhaps it was due to that vision thatmy voice had a ring in it that brought every man to his feet, and asglasses clinked, each man drank to the lady of his love with a rousingcheer.
As we brought our glasses to the table, rims down, the young man whohad proposed Yorke's health said, with a bow of apology to me:
"I accept my rebuke, and if the gentleman permit I would like torepeat his toast: To the fairest lady in St. Louis--Dr. Saugrain'sward!"
"Fill up your glasses, gentlemen, drain them to the lees, and throwthem over your shoulders; 'tis a worthy toast," cried the governor;and, filling his to the brim, and draining it at one draught, he flungit over his shoulder--an example which the others, benedict andbachelor, followed with ardor. In the midst of the crashing of glass,I thought I caught Dr. Saugrain's and Mr. Gratiot's eyes fixedcuriously on me. I turned to Mr. Pierre Chouteau:
"Dr. Saugrain's ward must be fair indeed, to rouse such enthusiasm," Isaid.
"Vraiment," returned Pierre, "she is the Rose of St. Louis. But youdine with Dr. Saugrain to-day: you will see, and then you will know.Young Josef Papin yonder, who proposed the toast, is wild about her.And so are half the young men of the village."
"Vraiment," I murmured to myself, "if she is fairer than the scornfulMademoiselle Pelagie, she is fair indeed!"
And yet I found myself looking forward to Dr. Saugrain's dinner withsuppressed excitement, while I puzzled my brains to interpret his andMr. Gratiot's enigmatical glances in my direction.
