“It will be a year,” I answered.
“Ah,” said the Captain, “I will tell you. It is more than a year since Clark wrote Genêt, since the Ambassador bestowed on him a general's commission in the army of the French Republic.”
“A general's commission!” I exclaimed. “And he is going to France?” The nation which had driven John Paul Jones from its service was now to lose George Rogers Clark!
“To France!” laughed the Captain. “No, this is become France enough. He is raising in Kentucky and in the Cumberland country an army with a cursed, high-sounding name. Some of his old Illinois scouts—McChesney, whom you mentioned, for one—have been collecting bear's meat and venison hams all winter. They are going to march on Louisiana and conquer it for the French Republic, for Liberty, Equality—the Rights of Man, anything you like.”
“On Louisiana!” I repeated; “what has the Federal government been doing?”
The Captain winked at me and sat down.
“The Federal government is supine, a laughing-stock—so our friends the Jacobins say, who have been shouting at Mr. Easton's tavern all winter. Nay, they declare that all this country west of the mountains, too, will be broken off and set up into a republic, and allied with that most glorious of all republics, France. Believe me, the Jacobins have not been idle, and there have been strange-looking birds of French plumage dodging between the General's house at Clarksville and the Bear Grass.”
I was silent, the tears almost forcing themselves to my eyes at the pathetic sordidness of what I had heard.
“It can come to nothing,” continued the Captain, in a changed voice. “General Clark's mind is unhinged by—disappointment. Mad Anthony [¹] is not a man to be caught sleeping, and he has already attended to a little expedition from the Cumberland. Mad Anthony loves the General, as we all do, and the Federal government is wiser than the Jacobins think. It may not be necessary to do anything.” Captain Wendell paused, and looked at me fixedly. “Ritchie, General Clark likes you, and you have never offended him. Why not go to his little house in Clarksville when you get to Louisville and talk to him plainly, as I know you can? Perhaps you might have some influence.”
[¹] General Wayne of Revolutionary fame was then in command of that district.