RODNEY’S VISIT TO MONTICELLO
One day there came to David Allison’s house a stalwart young man clad in the typical garb of the hunter, fringed deerskin hunting shirt belted at the waist, and breeches and moccasins of the same material.
This was no less a person than George Rogers Clark, who was to bear such a conspicuous part in the Revolution, as a daring leader of the forces which saved the great territory north of the Ohio River to the United States. His little brother, then but two years old, was, thirty-six years later, with Captain Lewis, to conduct the Lewis and Clark expedition from the Mississippi River to the Pacific Ocean and thus enable our government to secure the territory of the great Northwest.
“Cap’n George,” as he was familiarly called, was now planning to establish a settlement near the Ohio River, and had called to interest David Allison in the project.
Rodney listened with open-eyed attention to Clark’s 27 glowing accounts of fertile lands apparently only waiting for a little enterprise to be developed into a perfect paradise.
The boy saw that his father was much interested, but hesitated, saying that circumstances were such that he must remain where he was for a few years. Rodney thought he knew the reason but said nothing.
“Perhaps you may yet see your way clear, Mr. Allison,” said Clark on leaving. “I expect to pass this way again in a few days, and will call to see if you haven’t changed your mind.”
After the caller was gone Rodney said: “Father, I’ll go to Monticello, to-morrow if I may. You know Mr. Jefferson invited me.”
“Glad to have you, my boy.”
The morning gave promise of a beautiful day. By the time Rodney came to the hill, up which the road led to Mr. Jefferson’s residence, the sun shone hotly and the dust lay thick, but the boy’s thoughts were on the visit, and his heart beat quickly.
The country round about is hilly, but “Little Mountain,” as the hill was called before Jefferson gave it the Italian name, Monticello, was queen of them all, though Carter’s Mountain, a short distance west, is somewhat larger.
Rodney always remembered that morning in May, when Nat “single-footed” the hill without stopping. No knight ever stormed a castle, no pilgrim ever approached a shrine with greater earnestness. So eager was he that he did not fully appreciate the glorious 28 beauties of the landscape. The Rivanna River looked like a ribbon of silvery satin laid on green velvet, all in striking contrast with the red soil of the tilled fields. The Blue Ridge mountains, nearly fifty miles distant, were, in the clear air, a massive and misty blue background for the picturesque Ragged Mountains near at hand.
There was little about such small portion of the house as was then built to indicate to the boy what its future charms would be. Later, when Mr. Jefferson talked with him, and explained the plans he had made, Rodney understood and admired what, after thirty years in building, thousands have since admired, the beautiful “Monticello.”
Mr. Jefferson was found in his garden, working among his early vegetables. His face was red from sunburn and he was dressed in a blue coat, gray waistcoat and green knee breeches. He recognized the lad at once, and greeted him pleasantly. He had been measuring the growth of various plants, during stated periods, and with different fertilizers, and was recording these facts in his neat handwriting, such as four years later was to appear on the famous Declaration of Independence.
“That’s a fine colt you have there,” he exclaimed with enthusiasm, as he noted the horse Rodney had ridden, and which was being held by a small black boy.
“Nat is a fine animal, sir.”
“And well groomed.”
“I care for him myself. He belongs to me, for father gave him to me when he was a little fellow. He has learned several tricks. Nat, do you want to go home?”
Nat pawed the ground twice and whinnied vigorously.
“That’s his way of saying yes, isn’t it, Nat, boy?”
The colt’s answer was to thrust his velvety muzzle caressingly against the lad’s cheek, blinking his large purplish eyes the while.
He was truly a fine animal with breeding in every line, dark bay in colour, with a black stripe running from mane to tail.
Seeing an opportunity, Rodney said: “Mr. Jefferson, may I ask your advice?”
“Certainly you may.”
“I––I’m afraid father made a mistake when he bought our place of old––er Mr. Denham. I’ve been told two other men bought it and made a failure, having a mortgage on it. I don’t know whether father gave Denham a mortgage, but I do know that, while he wants to go out on the Ohio and take up his soldier’s claim to land, he doesn’t think it wise to leave home, I suppose on account of debts. I feel sure he ought to go. I want to go with him, but if I can do more by staying at home I ought to. Don’t you think he should go?”
“Was the boy seeking a loan?” thought Jefferson, but he said: “I would not like to advise. Your father doubtless knows better than we what is best. There 30 is great eagerness on the part of many people to seek new homes in the great West, but many who go over the mountains will return poorer than they went, and many others will never return at all. That part of the country has a glorious future, and there’s much excitement over the prospects. The pioneer spirit is resistless, but, were I your father, I should not wish to take my family. The Indians are troublesome and growing more restless.”
“I would be willing to stay at home if I could earn some money to help along.”
“You ought to be at your studies.”
“I suppose so. I’ve had a pretty good training in the three Rs and am half way through Cæsar. I can study a little in the evenings.”
The boy noticed that the look the man gave him was one of warm good will.
“Indeed, you certainly haven’t been idle. Don’t give up. Labour and learn, that must every boy or man do to succeed, and if he learns thoroughly he’ll see that good character is also essential to the success which endures. I rise at daylight, winter and summer. Yes, my boy, there is something I can get for you to do, though the recompense will not be large. I’m having some land surveyed and you could serve as an assistant and acquire some practical knowledge besides; that is, if your father will permit it.”
“Thank you, sir. I’m sure he’ll be proud to have me in your service.”
“We’ll now go to the library and see what we can 31 find, for I’m of the opinion that what the Reverend Mr. Stith said about King James won’t apply to you.”
“What was that, sir?”
“In his History of Virginia he writes that King James’ instructor had given him ‘Greek and Latin in great waste and profusion, but it was not in his power to give him good sense.’ By that don’t think that Greek and Latin are not both excellent. I would advise every boy to study them if possible.”
They were walking toward the house when they met Mrs. Jefferson. Rodney was introduced, and was received most graciously. He flushed with pleasure, and thought how gratified his father would be at the kind manner with which he was received.
“What book would you especially like, Rodney?”
“May I have ‘Josephus?’ I began that down at the old home but father loaned it, and the borrower never brought it back.”
“Which assures me I’m perfectly safe in loaning to you. Yes, here’s ‘Josephus.’ It’s well to know history, especially these days when very important history is in the making.”
When Rodney mounted his horse, Mr. Jefferson stood stroking the animal’s nose, for he ever admired a fine horse, and he said: “If worse comes to worst this colt would help pay off the mortgage, and, should you decide to sell him, I would like to have a chance to buy him;” then, seeing that the lad’s face had become 32 very serious, he quickly added: “but there won’t be any need of that yet awhile. By the way, why did you give him the name, ‘Nat?’”
“I named him after Nathaniel Bacon. Father says he’d rather have had Bacon’s fate and reputation than Lord Berkeley’s.”
“Berkeley didn’t believe in encouraging boys in Virginia to read books, so he and I wouldn’t have agreed,” and as the boy rode away he said to himself, “and the Berkeleys in this generation think the good English blood of these colonies can be ruled like serfs!”
As for Rodney, the brightness somehow seemed to have departed from the bright day which had held such promise. His mind had been full of the importance and pleasure of his visit. Now, he could only think, “Must I sell Nat?” It had never occurred to him until suggested by Mr. Jefferson. Was it his duty to part with the colt? Well, if necessary he would do it, “But first I’ll work my fingers off, Nat,” and he patted the glossy, arching neck while Nat champed impatiently at the bit.
By the time they reached the cabin, the boy had recovered much of his cheerfulness, and entertained his father with a glowing account of his visit.
David Allison was busily engaged in cleaning the old rifle he had carried through the French and Indian war. It was apparent that he had not put away altogether his desire to join Clark’s company.
When Rodney told of Mr. Jefferson’s offer to give 33 him work, his father, turning to his wife, said, “Harriet, I think I should go.”
For some minutes nothing was said. Rodney noted the shadow on his mother’s face. Finally she replied, “It does seem that the hand of Providence is shaping matters,” and both father and son knew that the struggle was past; she would spare no effort to assist in her husband’s departure.
The thought of what the wives and mothers endured, in the work of winning this mighty land, ought to bring the blush of shame to the face of every son of woman who does aught to sully its fair fame!
One week later David Allison left for the land “over the mountains,” and disappeared into the great forest, which swallowed him as a huge cave the one who explores it. Both wife and son noticed that he did not seem bent and old as he had of late. He was the brave soldier going forth to battle again.
Before he left he arranged, if all went well and another party the following year should leave for the West to join them, that Rodney might go with them.
The next day the boy began his work at Monticello, but saw little of his employer, who was a very busy man. Though but twenty-nine years old, Jefferson was a leader in the colonial legislature, the House of Burgesses. He had been first among those who pledged themselves not to buy imports from England, he favoured better schools, and was known to admire 34 the methods of government in New England, especially the town meetings.
These were not held in Virginia. There, the control of parish affairs was kept in the hands of a few leading families, and the large estates were handed down to the eldest son, and so kept entire; whereas, in New England property was divided among the children. This, Jefferson was trying to have changed, and consequently incurred the ill will of those who preferred the existing methods and laws.
The summer passed quickly with Rodney. The crops were scanty and his earnings meagre but enough to warrant his hope that it would be possible for him to join his father the following spring.
Angus was a frequent visitor at the Allison home. He was generous, impulsive and rough, and had not many home advantages, but his friendship for Rodney never wavered. Like all the boys, he disliked Denham, who was a fat little man with a greasy smile and eyes like a pig’s. He was said to be a miser, and a cheat, and a coward, which, in the eyes of the boys, was an unforgivable weakness.
One night Rodney and Angus had been over to a quilting party at the Dawsons’, or rather to the frolic which followed the quilting. There had been dancing to such music as the squeaky fiddle of Ander Byram could afford, also refreshments, in which a big ham and a roast of venison were two prominent features. The boys left early, Rodney because he had to rise by five o’clock the next morning, and Angus because he 35 had quarrelled with Betty Saunders. They came out into the crisp December air singing, “Polly put the kettle on, we’ll all take tea.”
Rodney, being in a confidential mood, told his companion of his plans for joining his father in the spring, and then said: “Angus, I should feel a lot better about leaving mother if I knew there was some one like you to help her out of any trouble that might come up. She might be sick, you know, and old Denham might try to cheat her in some way.”
“I’ll shake hands on that, Rod. Don’t you worry. Jimminy Jewsharp! but I wish I was goin’ too.”