Frances Hunter
blog of the author To the Ends of the Earth
Frances Hunter's Journal
June 2005
June 30, 2005: Lewis's Gold Mine
For a crucial plot point in this novel, we owe a debt to Lewis's relative George Rockingham Gilmer, whose Sketches of some of the first settlers of upper Georgia, the Cherokees, and the author (1855) includes the surprising statement that Lewis told his family that he and Clark had discovered a gold mine during their trip to the Pacific Ocean. Why Lewis would say such a thing is obscure; one scenario is presented in our book.
Gilmer's book presents sketches of the lives of dozens of old Georgia families, with about a page on each one--one of whom is Meriwether Lewis. Gilmer was connected to Lewis through the Meriwether side of the family. He writes:
In his expedition he discovered a gold mine. The fact was not made public, nor the place pointed out at the time, lest it become known to the Indians and Spaniards, and thereby be a public injury instead of a public benefit. He informed his friends, upon his return home, of the discovery which he had made, and his intention of making out such a description of the place that it might be found if he should die before the information could be made useful to the country. As he was travelling from St. Louis, the seat of the government of the Missouri Territory, of which he was then governor, to Washington City, he stopped for the night at a little inn on the roadside, somewhere in Tennessee. In the morning his throat was cut, and he dead; whether by his own hand, or others in search of his map, could never be determined.
It's interesting that Gilmer doesn't present this as a theory but as a fact, especially considering that Gilmer was a relative. It's also interesting what Gilmer doesn't say. He finds it unnecessary to mention that Lewis & Clark would never considered this supposed gold mine something by which they personally would profit.
Gilmer presents another good anecdote about Lewis's boyhood in Georgia. He reports that from 1790-95, the Cherokees were very "troublesome" in upper Georgia, stealing slaves and horses and killing people. During this uneasy time, word reached the settlement on Broad River, and everyone gathered together. They agreed that they could not defend the settlement and they sought safety in the forest. But as they were camped in the forest, the alarm was sounded --
INDIANS! INDIANS!
Mothers clasped their children and men grabbed their guns in "commotion and dismay."
BUT OF ALL THE COMPANY ONE BOY ALONE RETAINED HIS SELF-POSSESSION
This boy alone thought to throw water on the fire and extinguish the light. A sense of safety came upon everyone.
This boy was Meriwether Lewis.
June 28, 2005: The Shape of Snakes
I never could decide whether "Mad Annie" was murdered because she was mad or because she was black. ...
Thus begins The Shape of Snakes by Minette Walters, an interesting British mystery that I finished recently. From the two or three of her books that I've read, Walters seems to specialize in psychological mysteries about dreadful crimes, often buried in the past and now coming to light to consume the innocent and the guilty alike. In The Shape of Snakes, the story concerns the murder of a black woman and the decades-long search of one of her neighbors to discover the truth about what happened to her. Along with the narrative, Walters includes actual evidence--e-mails, police reports, psychiatric evaluations, and even photographs--to keep you guessing to the end. I enjoyed the setup, though I thought the mystery eventually collapsed under the weight of too many suspects.
From a writerly standpoint, the most intriguing aspect of this book was the use of an "unreliable narrator." In most books, the point-of-view character(s) are limited in what they can tell the reader, but we rely on them to relate the world truthfully as they see it. For example, in the movie The Sixth Sense, we experience the same reality as Bruce Willis, including his confusion about his situation. He doesn't yet realize that he is dead, and for the twist to work, we must not realize it either.
In this book, you couldn't be sure that the narrator herself was being completely honest about her thoughts and experiences. Because she was self-interested and of dubious motives, her character brought more depth to the puzzle than the standard detective story narration.
I enjoyed the technique pretty well but I don't think it would work too often. For one thing, if the narrator proves to have been too dishonest, the reader ends up feeling cheated (for me, Thomas H. Cook's Instruments of Night fell into this category and soured me on the author). Also, once I realize that I'm being conned, I may keep reading to see the twist, but I've lost any emotional investment in the story.
June 24, 2005: Iron Will and Little Julia
Who doesn't enjoy a "how we met" story? There is a charming story about how William Clark met his future bride, Julia (Judy) Hancock, a year or so before the Lewis & Clark Expedition. Hancock family legend has it that Julia and her cousin Harriet were out riding near their handsome family home, Santillane, in western Virginia. The girls were having trouble getting home when one of their horses became balky. Along came a handsome red-headed gentleman, William Clark, who helped the girls get the horse going and escorted them home. Little did the pretty young girls, ages 12 and 14, dream that they had both met their future husband.
Julia's father, Colonel George Hancock, was known as a tough SOB. Hancock was the largest landowner in Fincastle and Botetourt Counties and had served two terms in Congress. When he died in 1820 (sadly, about the same time Julia died), he is believed to have been buried in a sitting position in a marble chair in the family mausoleum in Fincastle (which is also where Julia is buried). This way, he could “look down the valley and see his slaves at work.” Nuf ‘ced.
Colonel Hancock's daughters were highly sought-after Virginia belles, and it wouldn't have been unusual for William Clark to express his interest in Julia to her father despite her young age. Women of the gentry class on the frontier were often married off very young in those days after fierce competition from multiple suitors; Clark's own sister, Fanny, known as the "black-haired beauty of Louisville," was married at age 14.
It appears that Colonel Hancock did not give his permission to Clark to court young Julia right away, but that he did note Clark's interest and made it clear that if Clark could establish himself financially (something Clark had yet to do despite being past 30), the Colonel would look favorably on his suit. Not the least of William Clark's incentives for joining Meriwether Lewis on the Expedition would have been the opportunity to secure fame and fortune so that he could have a fighting chance of winning Julia for a wife. There is evidence that he thought of Julia during the Expedition with the naming of the Judith River in her honor.
What is undisputed is that Clark made a beeline for Fincastle County upon his return from the West and began courting Julia. They were married in early 1808. Julia was 16 and Will was 37. By all accounts the marriage was a happy one. Julia died quite young in 1820, leaving behind her husband and five children. Historians are not completely sure what her illness was; theories include tuberculosis and breast cancer. Not long after, Will married Harriet Kennerly Radford, Julia's cousin and companion on that long-ago day when Clark rescued the girls from the balky horse. By this time, Harriet was a widow herself with three children, her husband having been killed by a wild hog on the Kentucky frontier. Life was rough in those days! Will and Harriet had two children together.
One challenge we faced in creating the character of Julia for Ends was dealing with the "ick" factor about the age difference between Will and Julia. We finally decided to just explore these characters with as much compassion and insight as we could and let the chips fall where they may. We ended up loving the way this part of the story turned out; it brings a tenderness, humor, and drama to the story that would not otherwise exist.
As we saw it, Julia is still just a kid in many ways. She’s been sheltered all her life, first by her father, then by her husband. She is not accustomed to making decisions on her own. Her life has changed radically in the year and a half between her wedding and the opening of the story. She left her father’s house, got married to an older man with a prominent position in society, moved to the boonies of St. Louis, became mistress of her own household, and had a baby. It wouldn't be surprising if she sometimes wishes she were back in Virginia, playing with her sisters.
It’s fair to say Julia loves, adores and worships Clark. Clark came along about the time she hit puberty, and she has never dreamed or fantasized about any other man. She’s proud that she was able to give him the son he always wanted. At the same time, Julia is beginning to understand Clark as no one ever has before. This marriage is still new, but Julia is starting to see the vulnerabilities in her husband, beyond the macho exterior to the big, loving heart of the man. In the course of the story, her maturity and her ability to help her husband is tested in ways she could have never imagined.
June 22, 2005: Fallen Timbers
During the Washington administration, an immediate threat existed on the western frontier, which at that time was the Ohio country. With independence secured from Britain, many Americans wanted to push into the alluring western lands, but were wary because of a growing confederation among the native tribes of the region and two major military setbacks:
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In October 1790, the American army under Brigadier General Josiah Harmar was ambushed and thoroughly routed by Little Turtle on the banks of the Maumee River. This defeat was regarded as a great humiliation for the young nation; Harmar retired shortly thereafter.
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In 1791, Major General Arthur St. Clair led an ill-disciplined American army from Fort Washington northward and was ambushed and defeated near the Wabash River by Blue Jacket, leader of an inferior native force. St. Clair survived, but went into retirement the following year. This defeat is considered by many military historians to be the greatest single defeat ever suffered by the U.S. Army, including Little Big Horn, and perhaps the greatest military defeat in U.S. history with the exception of Pearl Harbor.
At this point, Washington turned to General Anthony Wayne, a man with a truly distinguished record of service in the Revolutionary War. He had fought with Benedict Arnold in the Quebec campaign, stormed Stony Point in New York (earning the name "Mad Anthony" for his bravery), narrowly averted disaster at the hand of Cornwallis in Virginia and was in the thick of extremely bitter fighting in South Carolina and Georgia in 1782. After considering several possible commanders for a western expeditionary force, the President recalled Wayne to active service in 1792.
Wayne devoted months to the thorough training of his troops. Wayne's careful preparation was noted by Little Turtle, who recommended to his confederates that a peace agreement be sought. Blue Jacket, a Shawnee, opposed that suggestion and emerged as the war leader of the confederacy. In July 1794, Wayne's army moved out of Greenville (present-day western Ohio near the Indiana border), a force of 2000 regulars, known as the Legion of the United States, and 1500 volunteers.
The encounter took place on August 20 in an area where a recent storm had brought down many trees, hence the name "fallen timbers." The native confederacy numbered in excess of 1000 and was composed of Shawnee, Mingo, Delaware, Wyandot, Miami, Ottawa, Chippewa and Pottawatomie warriors. The U.S. forces used their superior numbers and arms to advantage, forcing a disorganized retreat on the Native Americans. The fleeing tribes sought refuge with the British at Fort Miami, but the gates there remained closed.
U.S. losses at Fallen Timbers amounted to 30 killed and at least 100 wounded. Native losses were difficult to determine because of their practice of quickly removing their casualties from the field. Estimates of 200 killed and 400-500 wounded are commonly accepted. Although some resistance continued into the following year, a large measure of peace was secured in 1795 in the conclusion of the Treaty of Greenville, the direct result of the American victory at Fallen Timbers.
Wayne will be a major character in our latest work-in-progress. Lewis and Clark met when they both served under Wayne, and Clark fought at Fallen Timbers. Interestingly in light of later events, Clark had disliked Wayne during the build-up to the Fallen Timbers campaign. He was under the spell of Wayne's subordinate, the treacherous James Wilkinson, whom he mistakenly thought was a friend to his brother, George Rogers Clark.
A very good article about Wayne and the battle can be found at Early America Review, and here's a site that shows re-enactors in "Wayne's Legion" dress. The best book on the subject is a new one, Bayonets in the Wilderness, by Alan Gaff.
June 20, 2005: Lewis & Clark! Together Again for the First Time!
Friends will go hungry for each other, freeze for each other, die for each other. ... At its height, friendship is an ecstasy. For Lewis and Clark, it was an ecstasy, and the critical factor in their great success. – Stephen Ambrose
Finally started with some actual writing on the new book, tentatively titled Beneath Our Native Sky. By the time we finished Ends last fall and found our agent, we had already realized that we weren't through with Lewis & Clark. Their unparalleled friendship continued to fascinate us. While Ends explores the limits of their brotherly love, we thought there was a wonderful story waiting to be told in the birth of the Lewis & Clark partnership, way back when they were just two "young guns" in the frontier army of "Mad Anthony" Wayne.
Little is known of the events that forged their friendship, which makes for fertile ground for the imagination. The research was fun and we'll discuss much of it on posts on this site, but coming up with a good story we both liked was tougher than we thought. This was a depressing winter and spring for various reasons. We were both sick, there was a huge amount of work stress, and we had ongoing worries about our aging parents and their various health problems. Plus the fate of Ends hung over our heads. The joy of having found our agent gave way to disappointment as he encountered surprising resistance from publishers (surprising to us, at least). There were days when we found ourselves thinking, this is too hard. Why write a sequel to a book that no one wants to publish?
But we couldn't give up -- after all, they wouldn't have. Finally, somehow, we came up with an outline and characters that we think will make for a ripping good time! So--work on it? Or shelve it for something else, such as our project in development about the young Robert E. Lee? After seething, stewing, and scheming for some weeks, we finally decided to take a little time off from the whole business, get this web site going, and think about what we wanted to do.
So here's the conclusion: it doesn't have to be this hard. Let's settle in for the long haul and do both--embrace our Lewis & Clark destiny while laying the groundwork for the Lee project down the road. While the sales situation concerns us, it seems a shame to shelve the research and emotional committment to BONS. We believe that Ends will eventually sell, and then we'll be glad that we have our sequel ready to go. Meanwhile, the Lee project (called Bloody Island) is also in the works with preliminary research.
Starting on the writing this week for BONS reminded me of what was so fun about this enterprise in the first place. The marketing process is enormously bruising, but the story-telling is exciting and fun. I just hope one of these days we get to start sharing these stories with those of you out in the world.
June 17, 2005: Tailor Made, Trail Worn
One of the frustrating things about researching early America is the lack of good graphic images. Aside from stiff formal portraits of the captains, there is little that can tell you visually what it might have been like to be part of the Lewis & Clark Expedition.
That's where artists come in, of course. One of the best artists who is rendering images of Lewis & Clark today is Michael Haynes. I first found out about Michael when I ran across some of his work at the gift shop at Lolo Hot Springs. I brought home some cool notecards with beautifully done renditions of Lewis, Clark, York, Sacagawea, George Drouillard, and Patrick Gass, and they're now framed and hanging in my room. Last year, at the gift shop at the Falls of the Ohio, I bought the poster of "On the Threshold of Discovery," Michael's great portrayal of Lewis and Clark's 1803 departure from Clarksville, Indiana. I love this picture. A misty-eyed Clark is shaking hands with his brother, the old war horse George Rogers Clark, as the rest of the Clark family looks on. Lewis, with a look of contained impatience on his face, waits for Clark to say his good-byes. York carries Clark's things down to the waiting keelboat, which is a-buzz with activity. Seaman lounges around while the men work. The view of the Ohio river and of Louisville on the other shore is very recognizable even to the modern visitor. I take the time almost every day to stop and enjoy this picture, which now hangs in our dining area.
You can check out some of Michael's amazing work in his web gallery. It seems kind of funny to imagine guys running around the wilderness wearing those hats, but they really did! Many of these pictures can be found in an indispensable book done by Michael Haynes and Robert J. Moore, Jr. of the Jefferson National Expansion Memorial Park in St. Louis (that's the Gateway Arch to you and me). Tailor Made, Trail Worn is an exhaustively researched and wonderfully illustrated study of the clothing worn by the men of the Corps of Discovery. Without Moore and Haynes, Lewis and Clark would have walked through our book unwittingly wearing three-cornered hats and coonskin caps. Every Lewis & Clark scholar is indebted to Moore and Haynes for this great book.
June 15, 2005: The Spanish Connection
In To the Ends of the Earth, James Wilkinson involves the Spanish consul in New Orleans in a plot to wrest control of the Louisiana Territory back from the United States, using Lewis and Clark as unwitting agents. While the plot may seem fanciful, in fact the Spanish were intensely interested in the two captains and not at all resigned to the idea of United States dominion in North America.
When the Lewis and Clark expedition began, the American hold on the Louisiana Territory was tenuous. Louisiana had been acquired from Spain by France in 1800, then by the United States in 1803. In the intervening years, the Spanish had quietly continued to govern the territory and use it as a base for their own expansionist dreams in the Southwest. When Meriwether Lewis arrived in St. Louis in 1803, he met with the Spanish governor of St. Louis, Carlos Dehault Delassus, and formally requested permission to proceed upriver. Delassus refused. By the spring of 1804, Louisiana was formally transferred to American hands, and the Corps of Discovery was on its way.
However, the matter of who controlled the territory was far from settled. Spain disputed the boundaries of the territory for years. The Spanish correctly perceived American exploration as a dangerous threat to their own future in North America. Over the next two years, the Spanish sent no less than four small military forces from New Mexico across the Great Plains toward the Missouri River, trying to intercept Lewis and Clark. One of these came within 100 miles of the Corps of Discovery before turning back.
The Spanish were right to worry about American ambitions. At the same time the Lewis and Clark expedition was going on, Aaron Burr was plotting to invade Spanish Mexico. Burr had the secret backing of the new Governor of Upper Louisiana -- who was none other than their own agent, James Wilkinson.
H.M.S. Surprise
Just finished H.M.S. Surprise, the third novel by Patrick O'Brian in the Aubrey-Maturin series of sea-faring adventures. Like any good series, this one is ripening as I go through it and get to know the characters. These books can be a bit hard to read with all the naval lingo, but I really like the characters, the adventures, and all of the historical details. The first one, Master and Commander, gets off to a slow start and doesn't get rolling until about page 100. I'm not sure I would have perservered if I hadn't already seen and loved the movie.
There's little I can add to the decades of praise that have been heaped on O'Brian for his historical accuracy, rich characterization, and amazing "world-building." As a beginning historical novelist, though, I have thought some about O'Brian's story-telling techniques. How does he make you want to keep following the characters and their adventures over a total of twenty books and thousands of pages?
In that regard, what interested me about this book was the plotting. The plotting To the Ends of the Earth and most popular fiction is climactic--that is, a tightly constructed series of events driving on to an explosive conclusion. By contrast, O'Brian's plots are episodic--a sequence of episodes, some of which are woven together but others of which appear to stand in isolation from the others, at least in the course of a single book. But as you follow the two main characters, Captain Jack Aubrey and Dr. Stephen Maturin, from book to book, these episodes build to produce an increasingly satisfying effect. Plot elements like battles, discoveries, secrets, betrayal, romance, &c. turn out to be building blocks for a much larger story about two men and how they change and evolve in their lives.
What a complicated task O'Brian set for himself, and how wonderful that he had the talent to pull it off.
June 13, 2005: Jefferson Elementary School
The city of Berkeley, California, has changed the name of Jefferson Elementary School to Sequoia, citing Jefferson's record as a slave-holder. (Hat tip: Roger L. Simon.)
It's interesting to see how the "stock" of various historical figures goes up and down over time. For example, Andrew Jackson and Thomas Jefferson were probably at their zenith as heroes in the 1930s. They pioneered the robust populism that eventually evolved into the New Deal politics of the era. The Jefferson Memorial was a New Deal project, and the Jefferson nickel was introduced in 1938. New Deal historian Arthur Schlesinger, Jr. wrote a massive biography called The Age of Jackson which directly linked Jackson to FDR.
The next generation saw the Civil Rights Movement and with it an interest in the role of minorities in history. All of a sudden Jefferson and Jackson didn't look so great. It turned out that Jefferson's fine words rang hollow on the issue of slavery, and that a major portion of Jackson's career was spent driving the Indians out of their ancestral homes in the Southeast, culminating in the infamous Trail of Tears episode.
I agree with Roger Simon, though, when he calls the renaming of the school "ahistorical nonsense." Yes, Jefferson was a slave-holder and fathered children with a woman he held in bondage; yes, Jackson warred ruthlessly and relentlessly against the Indians. But it is an appalling "dumbing down" of history to describe either of these towering figures of American history in such reductionist terms.
Old Hickory's victory at the Battle of New Orleans was one of the most important in American history. The United States had been badly bruised in the War of 1812, failing to gain any new territory. In fact, negotiators had already signed a peace treaty ending the war which left boundaries in place as they stood at the war's end. Not knowing of the treaty, Jackson and the British fought outside New Orleans, with Jackson achieving a total victory. If the British had won, they might well have claimed New Orleans, Mississippi navigation rights, and eventually much of the old Louisiana Purchase, perhaps critically blocking the path of American expansion into Texas and the Southwest and forever altering American destiny.
I know less about Jackson's presidency (something I hope to remedy in the next year or so), but I do know that Jackson was the first president to open the door to widespread democratic participation in the political process, and that his principled stand against John C. Calhoun in the Nullification Crisis preserved the Union for several more decades and provided an important precedent for Abraham Lincoln.
As for Thomas Jefferson, it's not an overstatement to classify him as one of the most influential forces for human freedom who ever lived. He also stood with Benjamin Franklin as America's first great scientific minds. He founded West Point, the National Observatory, and the University of Virginia. He was perhaps the first American, certainly the first Southerner, to develop a keen understanding of the fine arts, best embodied in his unparalleled self-portrait, his home Monticello. The exploration of the Northwest was one of his fixed purposes from young manhood, and he had the vision to acquire the Louisiana Territory and completely reshape the entire American future.
As far as their shortcomings, it seems to me it would be more useful to try to understand why Jefferson and Jackson acted as they did, rather than attempt to expunge their greatness from the history books in the service of a modern political agenda that promotes willful ignorance.
June 10, 2005: Thomas Jefferson's Views on Women
As Stephen Ambrose notes in Undaunted Courage, very little is known about Meriwether Lewis's views on women. He seems to have been a dutiful son to his mother, Lucy Meriwether Lewis Marks. Unlike many Virginians of his day, Lewis could not have grown up thinking that women were fragile creatures who needed to be protected from the world. Lucy Marks was an intelligent and independent woman who was a noted herb doctor in Albemarle County, Virginia.
It is known that Lewis had little success in his romantic relationships. If he was involved in any serious relationships before the Expedition, no letters survive to tell us about it. After returning from the Expedition, he writes that he is "determined to get a wife," but seems to have had almost no idea how to go about it. His letters chronicle a series of intense flirtations with Virginia belles that invariably end with Lewis being dumped by the girl in question. It's a matter of speculation why a handsome and extremely successful man such as Lewis found so much difficulty in connecting with the opposite sex. Perhaps no woman could measure up to Lucy Marks, or, as Stephen Ambrose notes, perhaps he was drinking too much or simply came on too strong.
There may have been deeper reasons. Using excerpts from the journals, Clay Jenkinson speculates in his interesting study The Character of Meriwether Lewis that the captain was immature about sexual matters. Jenkinson feels that Lewis's journal entries show a giggly, schoolboy attitude (unlike Clark, who can be startlingly direct even by today's standards). Novelist Brian Hall has a different take in I Should Be Extremely Happy in Your Company, depicting Lewis as a tormented man who forms a deeply romantic attachment to Clark. In Hall's book, Lewis is finally crushed, not only by Clark's failure to return his feelings, but by his own inability to understand himself.
Ambrose writes that:
Attitudes toward and relations with women are central to every man's personality and character, but seldom discussed, especially among eighteenth-century Virginia gentry. Jefferson, who wrote about almost everything, wrote little about women in general and almost nothing about his mother or his wife. Lewis never wrote about his mother.
An excellent article on the Early America Review site provides insight into Jefferson's views on women by bringing together Jefferson's widely scattered comments on women. Since Lewis was his protege, one might assume he shared some of the same beliefs. If so, it may not be such a wonder that he struck out so often. Jefferson writes that women should aspire to be a "living work of art." One wonders how Jefferson reconciled this attitude with the real women in his life (wife, daughters, Sally Hemings), who undoubtedly fell short of this ideal. He certainly gives the impression of a person who was somewhat disgusted by sexual urges instead of being able to accept and enjoy them.
If Lewis shared Jefferson's attitudes, it may explain why his flirtations failed. Perhaps he lost interest as he got to know the women better and became aware of them as human beings with faults and failings. It would also explain why he never showed much interest in Sacagawea, unlike Clark, who writes of her with sympathy and interest. She certainly wouldn't fit the Jeffersonian image of women as ethereal creatures.
June 8, 2005: Wilkinson
When we started looking around for a good villain for Ends, we discovered a great underrated traitor of American history: Major-General James Wilkinson, the commanding general of the United States Army, who operated for decades at the top levels of the U.S. government, all the while on the payroll of Spain as a spy.
Some of Wilkinson's history with the Clark family was discussed in posts last month. Wilkinson and Meriwether Lewis also had a history, going back to 1796 when Lewis was stationed at Fort Pickering (today's Memphis). All of the stories and schemes involving James Wilkinson rapidly become a tar-baby to research, with schemes turning in upon themselves like a Mobius strip. Wilkinson himself was an outlandish character who almost defies believability. Perhaps it's the very Byzantine nature of Wilkinson and his wacky world that accounts for his relative obscurity in the history books. Here's a brief attempt to summarize his relationship with Meriwether Lewis prior to the events depicted in Ends.
In the 1790's, President Washington was concerned that the Spanish were
stalling in implementing a treaty to open the Mississippi to trade and to
allow American settlement of the border country. Washington sent a diplomat
named Andrew Ellicott down to the Spanish city of Natchez, Mississippi,
as his representative. General Wilkinson was also in Natchez, ostensibly
heading up the army (while also feathering his own nest). There was a lot
of conflict between Ellicott and the Spanish authorities that is interesting
in its own right, though extraneous to this post. More to the point, Ellicott
and Wilkinson soon clashed deeply. Using his typical m.o., Wilkinson retaliated
by starting rumors that Ellicott was profiting personally from his diplomatic
mission, and was a drunkard and a wastrel. He even spread the tale that
Ellicott and his 19-year-old son shared the same mistress in the same bed
at the same time. Evidently, Wilkinson also considered Lewis part of the
Ellicott faction, or at least hostile to his enterprises, for he writes
during this period that Lieutenant Lewis headed "a select corps of
incomparable rascals."
In 1801, Thomas Jefferson became president and Meriwether Lewis was chosen
as the new president's private secretary. Wilkinson now needed to cultivate
Jefferson in order to stay in favor. Jefferson did not trust Wilkinson but
found him useful. Jefferson's motives for keeping Wilkinson around are somewhat
unclear. One reason may have been Wilkinson's alliance with Aaron Burr,
Jefferson's disloyal vice-president whom Jefferson was trying to keep neutral
and harmless. It can be safely assumed that Jefferson was unaware of Wilkinson's
treachery with the Spanish, though he certainly knew that the general was
an inveterate schemer.
An amusing sidelight to this period was the matter of military hairstyles. It had become the fashion for Federalists to wear long hair and Jeffersonians to wear short hair. When Jefferson took office, Wilkinson promptly got a haircut and issued orders requiring short hair in the army. The issue was controversial. Colonel Thomas Butler, an ardent Federalist, refused to obey the haircut order, and Wilkinson ordered his arrest and trial. Butler was dying at the time, and expressed the wish that when he died, a hole be bored through his coffin so that his queue could hang through it, and "the damned rascal may see that, even when dead, I refuse to obey his orders." (Lewis, famous for being a fashion plate, evidently kept his own hair long until about the time he returned to active duty to lead the Expedition).
One of Wilkinson's assignments during Jefferson's first term was build a real road along the Natchez Trace, the dangerous trail where Lewis would one day lose his life. Not much ever came of this assignment except the enrichment of one George Colbert and his Scotch-Chickasaw family, who operated a ferry across the Tennessee and charged exorbitant rates to use it. In December 1803, Wilkinson represented the U.S government at the Cabildo in New Orleans for the ceremony transferring the Louisiana territory to the United States. Jefferson then named Wilkinson to be the governor of the Upper Louisiana territory (which included most of the Louisiana Purchase except for the territory around New Orleans). Again, it's unclear whether Jefferson was rewarding Wilkinson for some service rendered, appeasing Aaron Burr, or just trying to find a post for Wilkinson where he couldn't do much harm.
In the summer of 1804, Aaron Burr killed Alexander Hamilton in the famous
duel, and had to leave the East in disgrace. Burr came to New Orleans and
began a series of intrigues that are still the subject of considerable historical
controversy. Speculation about his aims ranges from the establishment of
an independent republic in the southwest to outright seizure of Spanish
territory. Unaware that Wilkinson was a Spanish spy, Burr confided in him,
and Wilkinson encouraged him to proceed with his scheme, evidently promising
help and the use of the army. Burr raised the money to acquire some land
for a base of operations and gathered about 60 well-armed followers to head
west.
Wilkinson then betrayed Burr. He sent messages both to Jefferson and to
the Mexican viceroy warning them of Burr's plans to invade Mexico. He then
took his troops to New Orleans and spread panic, warning that the banks
were about to be robbed and that insurrection was imminent. Burr was arrested
and tried near Natchez. No evidence was presented, and his popularity soared
with his acquittal.
The murder of Hamilton and the Burr affair unfolded while Lewis and Clark
were gone on their Expedition. When they returned in 1806, they wrote of
their astonishment to learn what had been going on during their journey.
Jefferson was not amused by the international incident created by his former
vice-president. He had Burr pursued, arrested, and brought back to Washington
for another trial, in which Wilkinson gave dramatic testimony against Burr.
Burr was acquitted, though he was through politically. Lewis attended the
trial as an observer for Jefferson. Another attendee was Andrew Jackson
of Tennessee, a fierce enemy of Wilkinson's. Jackson was wise to Wilkinson's
treachery with the Spanish, though he was never able to gather the evidence
to prove it. During the trial he called Wilkinson a "double traitor,"
and commented, "Pity the sword that dangles from his felon's belt,
for it is doubtless of honest steel."
After the Burr trial, Wilkinson was forced to appear before a military court
of inquiry for his own role in the affair, but was acquitted after he presented
false testimony. Jefferson stripped him of the governorship of Upper Louisiana,
but allowed him to continue to command on the Southern frontier. The new
governor? Meriwether Lewis.
And therein lies a tale ...
June 6, 2005: In Search of York
When we started researching Ends, we quickly decided that Clark should travel in the company of his life-long manservant, York. The love-hate relationship between Clark and York became one of the most fascinating aspects of the book to research, and many of our readers have told us that it is the best thing in the book. I thought that it might be hard to create York as a character. What could two little skinny white women know about the life of this rugged African-American frontiersman who had spent his life in slavery?
But it really wasn't so hard. York's struggles were specific to his time and condition, but his traits and motivations were not so strange to us after all. The journals reveal York on the Expedition to be courageous, dependable, and caring. Clark's post-Expedition letters to his brother Jonathan then show us a York who is proud, angry, and defiant. York wants freedom, the chance to live near his wife and family, and the chance to start his own business and rise or fall on his own efforts. York had a taste of freedom and responsibility during the journey and is very unhappy and frustrated that Clark will not consider freeing him or even allow him to hire out again so he can live near his wife.
The breach between master and slave puzzles Clark and torments York in our story. After all, this was decades before the abolition movement, and York was raised from babyhood to place William Clark at the center of his life. They were childhood playmates in Virginia. When York was about 12, he was chosen to be Clark’s body servant, a great thing because it meant York would be a house servant and have (for a slave) a relatively easy and privileged life. Clark considers himself and York to be inseparable to the point that in his journal of May 14, 1804, he lists the members of the party and refers to himself and York as “2 self”!
After the Expedition, things change. Clark is so annoyed by York’s nagging to go to Louisville that he hires him out to a harsh master instead of letting him go work for one of Clark's relatives. When York comes back to St. Louis still sullen and unhappy, Clark loses his temper with him and “gave him a severe trouncing.” Clark believes that York is in no way prepared for the challenges of freedom and that he will be happier and better off remaining a slave. He also doesn’t want to take on the financial responsibility of setting York up in business, as would be required by law if he freed York.
The key to unlocking York's character was to realize that York views himself completely differently from how anyone else views him. To Clark and the rest of the world, York is a slave, and his purpose in life is to serve. While Clark and others may like York, enjoy his company, and even value his opinion at times, in the end York’s value is based on his service and what he can produce. But in York’s own mind, he is not a bit player in Clark’s drama. He is the hero of his own drama. He crossed the continent and weathered many trials and hardships. He is a competent man who is exacting in his work. He is also a well-loved husband and (probably) father. York feels he could do so much if he could only break free of this role into which life has consigned him. In the novel, he now openly challenges the notion that he should accept this inferior role.
There's some good information about York on the web, but the best source is the biography In Search of York. This fascinating and well-illustrated book brings together all that is known of York. It is not only a great book about York, but one of the best books in the L&C literature.
June 3, 2005: Alexander Hamilton
Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow is a detailed and fascinating biography of the greatest of the Founding Fathers never to become president. Hamilton is often caricatured as an elitist who wanted to hand control of early America to the prototypical "Eastern Establishment." Chernow instead shows us how Hamilton was a man of vision who laid the groundwork for the strong federal government and sound financial institutions that made possible American greatness. His partnership with George Washington as America's first Treasury Secretary was perhaps the greatest tour de force ever by a cabinet officer. Hamilton was a great lawyer with a deep grasp of history and the law. Along with James Madison, he was the primary author of The Federalist Papers, and his influence in the acceptance and interpretation of the Constitution was indispensable.
Alexander Hamilton will intrigue you if you are at all interested in the political aspects of early America, but it's also a terrific biography of the man. Hamilton was born illegitimate in the West Indies, and by sheer hard work and energy got himself to New York and King's College (now Columbia). He arrived just as the American Revolution was breaking out, and his talent soon brought him to the notice of George Washington, who made young Hamilton his chief aide. Hamilton and Washington had a father-son relationship, complete with frustration, resentment, and disappointment. Their partnership continued into Washington's presidency and became critical to the development of executive power.
There is juice in this book too. Hamilton was a man troubled by demons. He didn't suffer fools gladly, and when out from under Washington's steadying influence he was capable of spectacular errors in judgment. He also seems to have a strong sex drive. When he was a young man, he took a male lover, fellow Continental officer John Laurens, for whom he had a deep affection. Laurens was killed in the war. Hamilton then married the pretty and down-to-earth Eliza Schuyler, daughter of a prominent New York family. Alexander and Eliza loved and respected each other and delighted in their family, which eventually grew to eight children. Yet something in Hamilton drew him into a dark and sordid affair with a grifter named Maria Reynolds. Their affair became public in the first political sex scandal of the young Republic.
Hamilton's rivalry with Thomas Jefferson, Washington's secretary of state, defined his later life and became the basis for the emergence of the two-party system in America. George Bush and John Kerry wouldn't last two minutes up against the ruthless back-stabbing of Hamilton or Jefferson. It was interesting to read about how Jefferson cultivated his image as a simple farmer, giving up his early prediliction for fine clothes and powdered hair for rumpled suits and house slippers. Chernow does a good job of explaining how the two factions emerged and what they each stood for. All too often, the Federalists are said to stand for "business," while Jefferson's Republicans (confusingly enough, the ancestors of the Democratic party) stood for the "common man." As Chernow shows, the Federalists instead stood for a vision of a capitalist democracy, while the Republican vision of America was an agricultural republic that would, not coincidentally, benefit the slave-holding elite of the South.
One of the reviewers on Amazon noted that Alexander Hamilton reads like The Godfather, and I think that's about right. Full of flawed, fascinating characters, moral dilemmas, and a hero hurtling towards his own doom at the hands of Aaron Burr, it's a long read but worth the investment.
For much more on Hamilton, check out this site and this exhibit. Wish I could have gone to New York to see it; perhaps it will travel somewhere close to where we live.
June 2, 2005: Suicide in the Nineteenth Century
It's interesting to think about Meriwether Lewis's alleged suicide in the context of his time. From antiquity into the early 19th century, suicide was mostly discussed in terms of philosophical, ethical, religious, and legal arguments. While religious leaders consistently condemned suicide as a crime against God, some thinkers in the 18th century Age of Reason claimed that suicide was a "human right" and the "last act of a free man." Suicide was also seen by some as a legitimate, if extreme, way to avoid dishonor. According to Suicide Facts, suicide-by-pistol was the expected response among military officers in nineteenth-century Europe to inability to pay gambling debts.
When Lewis died in October 1809, he was facing political failure as Governor of the Louisiana Territory, allegations of corruption and the possible loss of his job, financial ruin and disgrace, unsuccessful love affairs, illness, alcoholism and possible drug addiction. While some still subscribe to a murder theory, the sad truth is that people have committed suicide over a lot less.
While Lewis's death and the reasons behind it remain a matter of controversy, he would hardly stand alone as the only nineteenth-century political figure to commit suicide as a way of coping with life's disappointments. The Political Graveyard lists no fewer than 58 politicians who took their own lives. The suicides often seemed to come in waves as men in distress saw others take this dark path to escape their troubles.
For example, in the second national election of the Republic of Texas in 1838, candidate Mirabeau B. Lamar was elected by default after both of his opponents committed suicide before election day. Lamar's brother took his own life, as did President of the Texas Republic Anson Jones and one of the first U.S. Senators from Texas, Thomas Jefferson Rusk. South Carolina fire-eater Edmund Ruffin died of a self-inflicted gunshot in 1865 rather than face the aftermath of Southern defeat in the Civil War. As late as the 1880's, six notable Kentucky politicians killed themselves over their own perceived failure to live up to the ideals of Southern honor.
It was only later in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries that people became interested in the mental health aspects of such a desperate act and began to think about how to cure the psychological and societal ills that led to suicide. Unfortunately, even an increased emphasis on mental health care and a diminishing stigma against seeking treatment has not completely eliminated people from seeking this sad end when they find their pain too great to bear.
June 1, 2005: Churchill Downs
Churchill Downs, the famous Louisville racetrack that hosts the Kentucky Derby, also has a Lewis and Clark connection. Meriwether Lewis Clark, Jr., the grandson of William Clark, founded the track in 1875.
I would like to know more about William Clark's children. Clark had five children with Julia Hancock and two with Harriet Kennerly Radford. Three of the youngsters died as children. Reading between the lines of Clark biographies like William Clark and the Shaping of the American West and Dear Brother, his four surviving sons -- Meriwether Lewis Clark, Jr. (the baby "Lew" in our novel), William Preston Clark, George Rogers Hancock Clark, and Jefferson Kennerly Clark -- all struggled in various ways, though few details are given.
M. Lewis Clark the elder (born 1809) was married to Abigail Prather Churchill, a Louisville heiress whose family owned the land that later became Churchill Downs. When Abigail died, M. Lewis, a leading architect in St. Louis, sent their five children to live with Abby's relatives in Louisville. M. Lewis Clark, Jr. (born 1846) was known as "Lutie." He grew up somewhat spoiled. Both during his childhood in Kentucky and during extended trips to Europe as a young man, he also developed a strong passion for horseracing.
In 1873, Lutie borrowed ideas that he had observed in Paris and proposed to the Churchills that they build a racetrack to showcase their racing stock. Bookmaking would be eliminated by the use of pari-mutual betting machines, a French innovation. The family loved the idea, and the track was opened on May 17, 1875. A three-year-old race, known as the Kentucky Derby, was held that day, though it would not become the premier attraction at Churchill Downs until the early 20th century.
Churchill Downs became Lutie's life and obsession. He pioneered racing rules and standards that are still in use today and was a leader in creating the stakes system, on which the Breeder's Cup is based. But Lutie Clark was by all accounts an ill-tempered and very unpleasant man. He was married for a time and fathered three children, but his wife eventually moved out. Lutie liked to use insulting language to those he considered beneath him, which was just about everyone, and was known to pull a gun on people who did not show him the proper deference. In 1879, he was shot in a brawl in his Galt House office but recovered. Over the years, he alienated his Churchill relatives, and by the terms of a Churchill will in 1891, he was disinherited by the family from having anything to do with the track.
Lutie lost all his money in the 1893 stock market crash and was reduced to working as a steward at race tracks to make ends meet. In 1899, unable to face his life of poverty and isolation, he committed suicide.
On the lighter side, one of the best aspects of a visit to Louisville for me is Derby Pie. The last time we went to Louisville, I combined two famous Louisville dishes, the Hot Brown and Derby Pie, at a nice restaurant called Deke's in downtown Louisville. Recommended!
The recipe for Derby Pie is a secret, but it's really easy to make a similar pie at home.