V
_THE CESSION OF ST. LOUIS_
"Glass we must have, and quicksilver. Wife, let me have the mirror."
The Madame threw up her hands. "The precious pier glass my dead motherbrought over from France? What shall we have left?"
"But Rosalie, this is an emergency for the government. The men musthave thermometers, and barometers, and I have no glass."
"The President will pay for the glass, Madame; he would consider itthe highest use to which it could be put," said Captain Lewis.
"And you shall have a better one by the next ship that sails aroundfrom France."
So as usual to everything the Doctor wished, the good woman consented.None had more unbounded faith in Dr. Saugrain's gift of miracles thanhis own wife.
The huge glass, that had reflected Parisian scenes for a generationbefore coming to the wilds of America, was now lifted from its giltframe and every particle of quicksilver carefully scraped from theback. Then the pier plate was shattered and the fragments gathered,bit by bit, into the Doctor's mysterious crucible, making the countrypeople watch and wonder.
So long had Meriwether Lewis been with Jefferson, that he had imbibedthe same eager desire to know, to understand. When he met with DoctorSaugrain it was like a union of kindred spirits. Saugrain, the pupil,friend, and disciple of the great Franklin, was often with theAmerican scientist when he experimented with his kites, and drew downlightning to charge his Leyden jars. Three times Dr. Saugrain came toAmerica, twice as guest of Dr. Franklin, before he settled down asphysician to the Spanish garrison at St. Louis in 1800. With him hebrought all his scientific lore, the latest of the most advanced cityin the world. When all the world depended on flint and steel, Parisand Dr. Saugrain made matches. He made matches for Lewis and Clarkthat were struck on the Columbia a generation before Boston or Londonmade use of the secret.
Bitterly the cheerful, sprightly little Royalist in curls lamented theFrench Revolution. "Oh, the guillotine! the guillotine! My own uncle,Dr. Guillotine, invented that instrument to save pain, not to wastelife. But when he saw his own friends led up to the knife, distressedat its abuse he died in despair!"
Sufficient reason had Dr. Saugrain to be loyal to Louis XVI. For morethan two hundred years his people had been librarians, book-binders,and printers for the King. Litterateurs and authors were the Saugrainsfor six continuous generations, and out of their scientific andhistorical publications came the bent of Dr. Antoine Francois Saugrainof St. Louis. But when the Bastile was stormed, Saugrain left Francefor ever. An _emigre_, a royalist, with others of the King's friendshe came to the land that honoured Louis XVI.
Between the Rue de l'Eglise and the Rue des Granges, at the extremesouthwestern limit of the old village of St. Louis, stood Dr.Saugrain's modest residence of cement with a six-foot stone wallaround it and extensive gardens. In his "arboretum" Dr. Saugrain wasmaking a collection of the most attractive native trees he foundaround St. Louis, and some there, imported from Paris, cast theirgreen shadows on the swans of his swimming pond, an old French fancyfor his park.
In this happy home with its great library, Captain Lewis became awelcome guest in that winter of 1803-4 while waiting for the cession.Under the Doctor he pursued his scientific studies, medicine, surgery,electricity, for not even Dr. Barton in Philadelphia could surpass thebright little Frenchman so strangely transplanted here in thisuttermost border.
The Doctor's taper fingers were always stained with acids and sulphur;busy ever with blowpipe and crucible, he fashioned tubes, filled inquicksilver, graduated cases, and handed out barometers andthermometers that amazed the frontier.
"Great Medicine!" cried the Indians when he gave them a shock ofelectricity. How Dr. Saugrain loved to turn his battery and electrifythe door-knobs when those bothersome Indians tried to enter! Or,"Here, White Hair, is a shilling. You can have it if you will take itout." The Osage chieftain plunges his arm into a crock of electrifiedwater to dash off howling with affright.
With intense interest Captain Lewis stood by while thechemist-physician dipped sulphur-tipped splints of wood intophosphorus, and lo! his little matches glowed like Lucifer's own. "Youcan make the sticks yourself," he said. "I will seal the phosphorus inthese small tin boxes for safety."
"And have you any kine-pox? You must surely carry kine-pox, for I hearthose Omahas have died like cattle in a plague."
"President Jefferson particularly directed me to carry some kine-poxvirus," replied Captain Lewis, "but really, what he gave me seems tohave lost its virtue. I wrote him so from Cincinnati, but fear itwill be too late to supply the deficiency."
Out of his medicine chest in the corner, the little Doctor brought thetiny vials. "Sent me from Paris. Carry it, explain it to the Indians,use it whenever you can,--it will save the life of hundreds." Andother medicines, simple remedies, the good savant prescribed, makingup a chest that became invaluable in after days.
Other friends were Gratiot and the Chouteaus, Auguste and Pierre. Itwas Auguste that had planned the fortifications of St. Louis, towersand bastions, palisades, demilunes, scarps, counter-scarps, and sallyports, only finished in part when the city was handed over.
Long since had Carondelet offered rewards to the traders of St. Louisto penetrate to the Pacific. Already the Chouteau boats had reachedthe Mandan towns, but freely they gave every information to theAmerican Captain.
"I send you herewith enclosed," wrote Lewis to the President, "someslips of the Osage plum and apple. Mr. Charles Gratiot, a gentleman ofthis place, has promised that he would with pleasure attend to theorders of yourself, or any of my acquaintances who may think proper towrite him on the subject. I obtained the cuttings now sent you fromthe gardens of Mr. Peter Chouteau, who resided the greater portion ofhis time for many years with the Osage nation.
"The Osage might with a little attention be made to form an ornamentaland useful hedge. The fruit is a large oval plum, of a pale yellowcolour and exquisite flavour. An opinion prevails among the Osagesthat the fruit is poisonous, though they acknowledge they have nevertasted it."
The leaders of all the French colonies on the Mississippi weregentlemen of education and talent. They saw what the cession meant,and hailed it with welcome. But the masses, peaceable, illiterate,with little property and less enterprise, contented, unambitious, sawnot the future of that great valley where their fathers had camped inthe days of La Salle. Frank, open, joyous, unsuspecting, wrapped inthe pleasures of the passing hour, they cared little for wealth andless for government provided they were not worried with its cares.Their children, their fruits and flowers, the dance--happy always werethe Creole habitants provided only they heard the fiddle string.Retaining all the suavity of his race, the roughest hunter could gracea ballroom with the carriage and manners of a gentleman.
Meanwhile Captain Clark was drilling the men at camp after the fashionof Wayne. Other soldiers had been engaged at Fort Massac andelsewhere,--Silas Goodrich, Richard Windsor, Hugh Hall, AlexanderWillard, and John B. Thompson, a surveyor of Vincennes.
Never had St. Louis such days! Hurry, hurry and bustle in the staidand quiet town that had never before known any greater excitement thana church festival or a wedding,--never, that is, since those days ofwar when George Rogers Clark saved and when he threatened.
But now Lewis and Clark made a deep impression on the villagers of thepower and dignity of the United States Government. Out of theirpurchases every merchant hoped to make a fortune; the eager Frenchmendisplayed their wares,--coffee, gunpowder, and blankets, tea at pricesfabulous in deerskin currency and sugar two dollars a pound.
But Lewis already had made up his outfit,--richly laced coats, medalsand flags from Jefferson himself, knives, tomahawks, and ornaments forchiefs, barrels of beads, paints and looking-glasses, bright-colouredthree-point Mackinaw blankets, a vision to dazzle a child or anIndian, who is also a child.
George Drouillard was found, the skilled hunter. There was a trace ofIndian in Drouillard; his French fathers and grandfath
ers had trappedalong the streams of Ohio and Canada since before the days of Pontiac,in fact, with Cadillac they had helped to build Detroit.
Every part of America was represented in that first exploringexpedition,--Lewis, the kinsman of Washington, and Clark from thetidewater cavaliers of old Virginia, foremost of the fighting stockthat won Kentucky and Illinois, Puritan Yankees from New England,Quaker Pennsylvanians from Carlisle, descendants of landholders in thedays of Penn, French interpreters and adventurers whose barkentineshad flashed along our inland lakes and streams for a hundred years,and finally, York, the negro, forerunner of his people.
Cruzatte and Labiche, canoemen, were of old Kaskaskia. Pierre Cruzattewas near-sighted and one-eyed, but what of that? A trusted trader ofthe Chouteaus, he had camped with the Omahas, and knew their tongueand their country. Could such a prize be foregone for any defect ofeyesight?
Accustomed to roving with their long rifles and well-filled bulletpouches, nowhere in the world could more suitable heroes have beenfound for this Homeric journey.
News of the sale had reached St. Louis while Captain Lewis wasstruggling with those builders at Pittsburg.
"_Sacre! Diable!_" exclaimed the French. Some loved France, some clungto Spain, some shook their heads. "De country? We never discuss itsaffaires. Dat ees de business of de Commandante."
The winter of 1803-4 was very severe. In November the ice beganrunning and no one could cross until February. Then Captain AmosStoddard, at Kaskaskia with his troops, sent a letter to Don Carlos DeHault De Lassus by a sergeant going on business to Captain Lewis.
On top of the hill a double stockade of logs set vertically, the spacebetween filled with dirt, a two-story log building with small windowsand a round stone tower with a pointed cap of stone,--that was thefort where the Spanish soldiers waited.
Down below, inhabitants in blue blanket capotes and blue kerchiefs ontheir heads, now and then in red toque or a red scarf to tie up theirtrousers, wandered in the three narrow lanes that were the streets ofSt. Louis, waiting. Before them flowed the yellow-stained,eddy-spotted Mississippi, behind waved a sea of prairie grassuninterrupted by farm or village to the Rockies.
Spring blossomed. Thickets of wild plum, cherry, wild crab-apples,covered the prairie. Vanilla-scented locust blooms were shakinghoney-dew on the wide verandas of the old St. Louis houses, when earlyin the morning of May 9, American troops crossed the river fromCahokia, and Clark's men from the camp formed in line with fife anddrum, and colours flying. At their head Major Amos Stoddard of Bostonand Captain Meriwether Lewis of Virginia led up to the GovernmentHouse.
Black Hawk was there to see his Spanish Father. He looked out.
"Here comes your American Father," said the Commandant De Lassus.
"I do not want _two_ Fathers!" responded Black Hawk.
Dubiously shaking his head as the Americans approached, Black Hawk andhis retinue flapped their blankets out of one door as Stoddard andCaptain Lewis entered the other.
Away to his boats Black Hawk sped, pulling for dear life up stream tohis village at Rock Island. And with him went Singing Bird, the brideof Black Hawk.
"Strange people have taken St. Louis," said the Hawk to his Sacs. "Weshall never see our Spanish Father again."
A flotilla of Frenchmen came up from Kaskaskia,--Menard, Edgar,Francis Vigo, and their friends. Villagers left their work in thefields; all St. Louis flocked to La Place d'Armes in front of theGovernment House to see the transfer.
In splendid, showy uniforms, every officer of the Spanish garrisonstood at arms, intently watching the parade winding up the limestonefootway from the boats below.
With its public archives and the property of a vast demesne, DonCarlos De Hault De Lassus handed over to Major Stoddard the keys ofthe Government House in behalf of France. A salvo of cannonry shookSt. Louis.
"People of Upper Louisiana," began De Lassus in a choked and brokenvoice, "_by order of the King_, I am now about to surrender this postand its dependencies. The flag which has protected you during nearlythirty-six years will no longer be seen. The oath you took now ceasesto bind. Your faithfulness and courage in upholding it will beremembered for ever. From the bottom of my heart I wish you allprosperity."
De Lassus, Stoddard, Lewis, Clark, and the soldiers filed up theyellow path, past the log church, to the fort on the hill. The Spanishflag was lowered; De Lassus wept as he took the fallen banner in hishand, but as the Lilies of France flashed in the sun the Creoles burstinto tumultuous cheers. Not for forty years had they seen that flag,the emblem of their native land. Cannon roared, swords waved, andshouts were heard, but not in combat.
The gates were thrown open; out came the Spanish troops with knapsackson their backs, ready to sail away to New Orleans. The old brasscannon and munitions of war were transported down the hill, while theAmerican soldiers in sombre uniforms filed into the dingy old fort ofSpain.
Major Stoddard sent for the French flag to be taken down at sunset.
"No, no, let it fly! Let it fly all night!" begged the Creoles, and aguard of honour went up to watch the flickering emblem of theircountry's brief possession.
All night long that French flag kissed the sky, all night the guard ofhonour watched, and the little log church of St. Louis was filled withworshippers. All the romance of Brittany and Normandy rose to memory.Rene Kiercereau the singer led in ballads of La Belle France, and theglories of fields where their fathers fought were rehearsed withswelling hearts. Not the real France but an ideal was in their hearts,the tradition of Louis XIV.
That was the last day of France in North America. As the belovedbanner sank the drums gave a long funeral roll, but when, instead, thered, white, and blue burst on the breeze, the fifes struck into livelymusic and the drums rained a cataract.
"Three cheers for the American flag!" cried Charles Gratiot in thespirit of the Swiss republic, but there were no cheers. The Creoleswere weeping. Sobs, lamentations arose, but the grief was mostly fromold Frenchmen and their wives who so long had prayed that the Fleur deLis might wave above San Loui'. Their sons and daughters, truly, asLucien Bonaparte had warned Napoleon, "went to bed good Frenchmen, toawake and find themselves Americans."
The huge iron cock in the belfry of the old log church spun round andround, as if it knew not which way the wind was blowing. In three daysthree flags over St. Louis! No wonder the iron cock lost its head andspun and spun like any fickle weather vane.
In the same square with the Government House stood one of the Chouteaumansions. Auguste Chouteau had been there from the beginning, when asa fearless youth with Laclede he had penetrated to the site of thefuture San Loui' in 1764. He was a diplomat who met Indians and madealliances. He had seen the territory pass under Spain's flag, and inspite of that had made it more and more a place of Gallic refuge forhis scattered countrymen. He had welcomed Saugrain, Cerre, Gratiot, infact,--he and his brother Pierre remembered the day when there was noSan Loui'.
A band of Osage chiefs had come in to see their great Spanish father.With wondering eyes they watched the cession, and were handed over toCaptain Lewis to deal with in behalf of the United States. A Frenchmessenger was sent ahead with a letter to the tribe.
"The Americans taken San Loui'?"
Manuel Lisa, the Spaniard, was disgusted,--it broke up his monopoly ofthe Osage trade. "We will not haf the Americans!"
The Osages burnt the letter.