XXVII
_THE BROTHERS_
"My claim is as just as the book we swear by."
The hero of the heroic age of the Middle West was discussing his debtsfor the conquest of Illinois. "I have given the United States half theterritory they possess, and for them to suffer me to remain in povertyin consequence of it will not redound to their honour. I engaged inthe Revolution with all the ardour that youth could possess. My zealand ambition rose with my success, determined to save those countrieswhich had been the seat of my toil, at the hazard of my life andfortune.
"At the most gloomy period of the war when a ration could not bepurchased on public credit, I risked my own credit, gave my bonds,mortgaged my lands for supplies, paid strict attention to everydepartment, flattered the friendly and confused the hostile tribes ofIndians, by my emissaries baffled my internal enemies (the mostdangerous of all to public interest), and carried my point.
"Thus at the end of the war I had the pleasure of seeing my countrysecure, but with the loss of my manual activity. Demands of very greatamount were not paid, others with depreciated paper. Now suits arecommenced against me, for those sums in specie. My military and otherlands, earned by my services, are appropriated for the payment ofthese debts, and demands yet are remaining, to a considerable amountmore than the remains of a shattered fortune will pay.
"This is truly my situation. I see no other recourse remaining but tomake application to my country for redress."
Brooding over his troubles, George Rogers Clark had built himself alittle cabin at the Point of Rock, overlooking the Falls of the Ohio,and gone into a self-chosen St. Helena. The waves dashed and roaredbelow and the mist arose, as he looked out on Corn Island, scene ofhis earliest exploit.
A library of handsome books was the principal ornament the housecontained. Reading, hunting, fishing, he passed his days, while theold negro servants attended to the kitchen and the garden.
"I have come," answered his brother William, "I have retired from thearmy, to devote myself to you. Now what can be done?"
"Done? Look at these bills. Gratiot's is paid, thank God, or he wouldhave been a ruined man. Monroe helped him through with that. AndMenard's? That is shelved at Richmond for fifty years." General Clarkturned the leaves of his note-book.
"And Vigo? But for him I could never have surprised Vincennes. He wasthe best friend I had, and the best still, except you, William."
A singular affection bound these two brothers. It seemed almost as ifWilliam took up the life of George Rogers where it was broken off, andcarried it on to a glorious conclusion.
"Virginia acknowledges Vigo's debt, certifies that it has never beenpaid but she has ceded those lands to the Government. Who then shallpay it but Congress? The debt was necessary and lawful in contractingfor supplies for the conquest of Illinois. Could I have done withless? God knows we went with parched corn only in our wallets anddepended on our rifles for the rest. Tell him to keep the draft,Virginia will pay it, or Congress, some time or other, with interest."
Again, at William's persuasion, the General came home to MulberryHill. An expert horseman, everybody in Louisville knew Captain Clark,who, wrapped in his cloak, came spurring home night after night on hisblooded bay, with York at his side, darkness nor swollen fords norwildly beating storms stopping his journey as he came bearing news tohis brother.
"I have ridden for brother George in the course of this year upwardsof three thousand miles," wrote the Captain to his brother Edmund, inDecember, 1797, "continually in the saddle, attempting to save him,and have been serviceable to him in several instances. I have but afew days returned from Vincennes attending a suit for twenty-fourthousand dollars against him."
These long journeys included tours to St. Louis, Vincennes, Kaskaskia,among the General's old debtors, proving that the articles for whichhe was sued were for his troops, powder and military stores.
"The General is very ill again," said father Clark, walking up anddown the entry before the chamber door. The old man's severecountenance always relaxed when he spoke of "the General." Of all hischildren, George Rogers was the one least expected to fall intodissipation, but now in rheumatic distress, old before his time,George Rogers sometimes drank.
"Cover him, shield him, let not the world witness my brother'sweakness," William would say at such times, affectionately detaininghim at Mulberry Hill.
Glancing into the dining-room, the white-haired cavalier noticed Fannyand her children and others sitting around the table. Preoccupied, theold man approached, and leaning over a chair delivered an impressivegrace.
"Now, my children, you can eat your dinner. Do not wait for me," andagain he took up his walk in the entry outside the chamber door. Asmile wreathed the faces of all; there was no dinner; they were simplyvisiting near the table.
With children and grandchildren around him, the house at Mulberry Hillwas always full. At Christmas or Thanksgiving, when Lucy came with herboys from Locust Grove, "Well, my children," father Clark would say,"if I thought we would live, mother and I, five years longer, I wouldbuild a new house."
But the day before Christmas, 1798, the silky white hair of Ann RogersClark was brushed back for the last time, in the home that her tastehad beautified with the groves and flowers of Mulberry Hill.
More and more frequently the old cavalier retired to his rustic arbourin the garden.
"I must hunt up father, he will take cold," William would say; andthere on a moonlight night, on his knees in prayer, the old man wouldbe found, among the cedars and honeysuckles of Mulberry Hill.
"Why do you dislike old John Clark," some one asked of a neighbourwhen the venerable man lay on his death-bed.
"What? I dislike old John Clark? I revere and venerate him. His pietyand virtues may have been a reproach, but I reverence and honour oldJohn Clark."
By will the property was divided, and the home at Mulberry Hill wentto William.
"In case Jonathan comes to Kentucky he may be willing to buy theplace," said William. "If he does I shall take the cash to pay offthese creditors of yours."
"Will you do that?" exclaimed George Rogers Clark gratefully. "I canmake it good to you when these lands of mine come into value."
"Never mind that, brother, never mind that. The honour of the familydemands it. And those poor Frenchmen are ruined."
"Indians are at the Falls!"
Startled, even now the citizens of Louisville were ready to fly outwith shotguns in memory of old animosities.
Nothing chills the kindlier impulses like an Indian war. Childrenage, young men frost and wrinkle, women turn into maniacs. Every loghut had its bedridden invalid victim of successive frights and nervousprostration. Only the stout and sturdy few survived in after days totell of those fierce times when George Rogers Clark was the hope andsafety of the border. To these, the Indian was a serpent in the path,a panther to be hunted.
"Hist! go slow. 'Tis the Delaware chiefs come down to visit GeorgeRogers Clark," said Simon Kenton.
In these days of peace, remembering still their old terror of the LongKnife, a deputation of chiefs had come to visit Clark. In paint andblankets, with lank locks flapping in the breeze, they strode up thecatalpa avenue, sniffing the odours of Mulberry Hill. General Clarklooked from the window. Buckongahelas led the train, with PierreDrouillard, the interpreter.
Drouillard had become, for a time, a resident of Kentucky. SimonKenton, hearing that the preserver of his life had fallen intomisfortune since the surrender of Detroit, sent for him, gave him apiece of his farm, and built him a cabin. George Drouillard, a son,named for George III., was becoming a famous hunter on theMississippi.
"We have come," said Buckongahelas, "to touch the Long Knife."
Before Clark realised what they were doing, the Indians had snippedoff the tail of his blue military coat with their hunting knives.
"This talisman will make us great warriors," said Buckongahelas,carefully depositing a fragment in his bosom.
Clark laughed,
but from that time the Delaware King and his braveswere frequent visitors to the Long Knife, who longed to live in thepast, forgetting misfortune.
But George Rogers Clark was not alone in financial disaster. St. Clairhad expended a fortune in the cause of his country and at last,accompanied by his devoted daughter, retired to an old age of penury.
Boone, too, had his troubles. Never having satisfied the requirementsof law concerning his claim, he was left landless in the Kentucky hehad pioneered for civilisation. Late one November day in 1798 he wasseen wending his way through the streets of Cincinnati, with Rebeccaand all his worldly possessions mounted on packhorses.
"Where are you going?" queried an old-time acquaintance.
"Too much crowded, too many people. I am going west where there ismore elbow room."
"Ze celebrated Colonel Boone ees come to live een Louisiana," said theSpanish officers of St. Louis. The Stars and Stripes and the yellowflag of Spain were hung out side by side, and the garrison came downout of the stone fort on the hill to parade in honour of Daniel Boone.
No such attentions had ever been paid to Daniel Boone at home. Hedined with the Governor at Government House and was presented with athousand arpents of land, to be located wherever he pleased, "in thedistrict of the Femme Osage."
Beside a spring on a creek flowing into the Missouri Boone built hispioneer cabin, beyond the farthest border settlement.
"Bring a hundred more American families and we will give you tenthousand arpents of land," said the Governor.
Back to his old Kentucky stamping ground went Boone, and successfullypiloted out a settlement of neighbours and comrades. Directly, ColonelDaniel Boone was made Commandant of the Femme Osage District. His wordbecame law in the settlement, and here he held his court under aspreading elm that stands to-day, the Judgment Tree of Daniel Boone.