One thing that the United States government does extremely well is preserve its historic monuments, memorials, and natural treasures.
The Natchez Trace Parkway bisects Tennessee, and follows the route of one of America's oldest highways. Paul, Stewbert, and I drove our motorcycles down a portion of the Trace. I was amazed at how quiet and unspoiled the drive proved to be, especially when compared to the hectic pace and thunderous noise of the civilization we had just emerged from. Halfway between Florence, Ala. and Nashville, Tenn., I indicated an exit. We had made it to the second major destination of our trip.
The Meriwether Lewis Monument features well-manicured grounds, ample parking, a picnic area, and hiking access to the Old Trace. I leaned against a split-rail fence and peered down the original trail. For centuries, Native Americans followed the migratory paths of bison. Pioneers added their own footprints in the name of trade. Andrew Jackson's army passed through multiple times in the early 1800s, but even prior to European settlement, the Trace was the most efficient means of travel throughout the Mississippi region. There we were, fleeting visitors. I wondered what our legacy would be.
Certainly, everyone has heard of the Lewis and Clark Expedition. Less publicized is the unfortunate fall from prosperity of one of the expedition's founders and namesake. This is what brought us there, to an otherwise obscure stop along an ancient footpath.
Meriwether Lewis absolutely embodied the spirit of rugged individualism. At an early age, his mind and body flourished at the opportunity to survive in the wilderness of Virginia. Lewis shared his passion of science, botany, and agriculture with Thomas Jefferson, and the two got along famously. Lewis even served as President Jefferson's personal secretary.
Earlier, Lewis had joined the militia and served in a military campaign against the British under William Clark, who was four years older than Lewis. The two became fast friends, and although were strikingly different in character, were a natural fit to lead an expedition across the American wilderness. The Lewis and Clark Expedition set out in May of 1804 and would not return for two and a half years.
When Lewis and Clark returned to St. Louis in 1806, the men were treated as national heroes. The U.S. government gave them each 1,600 acres of land. The story, their exploits, the discoveries both in flora and fauna, fetched international fame. The Lewis and Clark Expedition was the 19th century equivalent of Lindbergh crossing the Atlantic.
Whereas William Clark led a long, successful, and productive life, Meriwether Lewis fell into a downward spiral. His courtships failed, and Lewis never wed, despite being the nation's most eligible bachelor. Too many parties, too many toasts, too much adoration - too soon - is how Stephen Ambrose described Lewis's demise in his masterful account, "Undaunted Courage". Barely into his 30s, Lewis took to drinking excessively, and his mental and physical health deteriorated.
Then, came the bills. For years, Lewis had simply written checks on behalf of the U.S. Treasury. Lewis had signed nearly 2,000 drafts totaling some $38,000 for his "public service" on behalf of the expedition. Additionally, as governor of Louisiana, Lewis had contracted the highly controversial Missouri River Fur Company, using government money and resources to fund a private enterprise. Essentially, when these drafts came due, the government audited him.
To the absolute chagrin of his friend Thomas Jefferson and the international scientific community, Meriwether Lewis sat on the journals he had kept throughout the expedition. The publication of these journals alone would have secured his financial future and saved his reputation.
Just one month past his 35th birthday, Meriwether Lewis and a number of servants traveled by river to the site of present day Memphis, and elected to take the overland route to Washington so that Lewis could settle his affairs with the government and finally present the journals to his publisher. The Natchez Trace was safer than sailing around the east coast, due to the presence of British warships prowling the Atlantic.
After a series of delays, Lewis rode ahead and stopped at Grinder's Inn, a poorly built log house capable of serving overnight guests. Lewis's final hours are described in detail by Ambrose, but go something like this: Lewis, in a state of mental and physical decline, paced his room loudly into the night. Mrs. Grinder, terrified, heard him shouting to himself. Early in the morning, Lewis loaded his pistols and shot himself once in the head. The bullet grazed his skull. He then shot himself in the breast, the ball traveling downward through his body.
Still, Meriwether Lewis did not expire. He staggered outside, collapsed, and crawled back into his room. At daybreak, the servants found him. He had used his razor to cut his entire body, from head to toe and complained, "I am so strong, (it is) so hard to die" (Courage, 465). He begged the servants to shoot him again, but they refused. Shortly after sunrise, on Oct. 11, 1809, Meriwether Lewis passed on.
Lewis was buried a stone's throw from Grinder's House, and it was not until 40 years later that the state of Tennessee erected a monument in his honor. At Meriwether Lewis's gravesite is a broken pillar, which represents a life cut short.
- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes a column for the Times each Tuesday. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
The Natchez Trace Parkway bisects Tennessee, and follows the route of one of America's oldest highways. Paul, Stewbert, and I drove our motorcycles down a portion of the Trace. I was amazed at how quiet and unspoiled the drive proved to be, especially when compared to the hectic pace and thunderous noise of the civilization we had just emerged from. Halfway between Florence, Ala. and Nashville, Tenn., I indicated an exit. We had made it to the second major destination of our trip.
The Meriwether Lewis Monument features well-manicured grounds, ample parking, a picnic area, and hiking access to the Old Trace. I leaned against a split-rail fence and peered down the original trail. For centuries, Native Americans followed the migratory paths of bison. Pioneers added their own footprints in the name of trade. Andrew Jackson's army passed through multiple times in the early 1800s, but even prior to European settlement, the Trace was the most efficient means of travel throughout the Mississippi region. There we were, fleeting visitors. I wondered what our legacy would be.
Certainly, everyone has heard of the Lewis and Clark Expedition. Less publicized is the unfortunate fall from prosperity of one of the expedition's founders and namesake. This is what brought us there, to an otherwise obscure stop along an ancient footpath.
Meriwether Lewis absolutely embodied the spirit of rugged individualism. At an early age, his mind and body flourished at the opportunity to survive in the wilderness of Virginia. Lewis shared his passion of science, botany, and agriculture with Thomas Jefferson, and the two got along famously. Lewis even served as President Jefferson's personal secretary.
Earlier, Lewis had joined the militia and served in a military campaign against the British under William Clark, who was four years older than Lewis. The two became fast friends, and although were strikingly different in character, were a natural fit to lead an expedition across the American wilderness. The Lewis and Clark Expedition set out in May of 1804 and would not return for two and a half years.
When Lewis and Clark returned to St. Louis in 1806, the men were treated as national heroes. The U.S. government gave them each 1,600 acres of land. The story, their exploits, the discoveries both in flora and fauna, fetched international fame. The Lewis and Clark Expedition was the 19th century equivalent of Lindbergh crossing the Atlantic.
Whereas William Clark led a long, successful, and productive life, Meriwether Lewis fell into a downward spiral. His courtships failed, and Lewis never wed, despite being the nation's most eligible bachelor. Too many parties, too many toasts, too much adoration - too soon - is how Stephen Ambrose described Lewis's demise in his masterful account, "Undaunted Courage". Barely into his 30s, Lewis took to drinking excessively, and his mental and physical health deteriorated.
Then, came the bills. For years, Lewis had simply written checks on behalf of the U.S. Treasury. Lewis had signed nearly 2,000 drafts totaling some $38,000 for his "public service" on behalf of the expedition. Additionally, as governor of Louisiana, Lewis had contracted the highly controversial Missouri River Fur Company, using government money and resources to fund a private enterprise. Essentially, when these drafts came due, the government audited him.
To the absolute chagrin of his friend Thomas Jefferson and the international scientific community, Meriwether Lewis sat on the journals he had kept throughout the expedition. The publication of these journals alone would have secured his financial future and saved his reputation.
Just one month past his 35th birthday, Meriwether Lewis and a number of servants traveled by river to the site of present day Memphis, and elected to take the overland route to Washington so that Lewis could settle his affairs with the government and finally present the journals to his publisher. The Natchez Trace was safer than sailing around the east coast, due to the presence of British warships prowling the Atlantic.
After a series of delays, Lewis rode ahead and stopped at Grinder's Inn, a poorly built log house capable of serving overnight guests. Lewis's final hours are described in detail by Ambrose, but go something like this: Lewis, in a state of mental and physical decline, paced his room loudly into the night. Mrs. Grinder, terrified, heard him shouting to himself. Early in the morning, Lewis loaded his pistols and shot himself once in the head. The bullet grazed his skull. He then shot himself in the breast, the ball traveling downward through his body.
Still, Meriwether Lewis did not expire. He staggered outside, collapsed, and crawled back into his room. At daybreak, the servants found him. He had used his razor to cut his entire body, from head to toe and complained, "I am so strong, (it is) so hard to die" (Courage, 465). He begged the servants to shoot him again, but they refused. Shortly after sunrise, on Oct. 11, 1809, Meriwether Lewis passed on.
Lewis was buried a stone's throw from Grinder's House, and it was not until 40 years later that the state of Tennessee erected a monument in his honor. At Meriwether Lewis's gravesite is a broken pillar, which represents a life cut short.
- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes a column for the Times each Tuesday. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
