human
I did not desert my duty, mother,
gpt
Oh, no, you would not do that, Merne!
human
Please, mother, said he suddenly,
gpt
I want you to call me by my full name--that of your people. Am I not Meriwether, too?
human
Yes, my son, Meriwether, said she.
gpt
This is the last journey! I have lost you, then, it seems? You do not wish to be my boy any longer? You are a man altogether, then?
human
I am Meriwether Lewis, mother,
gpt
Yes! She spoke absently, musingly.
human
Yes, you always were!
gpt
I went westward, clear across the Ragged Mountains, said the youth.
human
These --and he pointed with contempt to the small trophies at his belt--
gpt
I know that, my son, yes. You were born for the forest. I fear I shall not hold you long on this quiet farm.
human
All in time, mother! I am to stay here with you until I am fitted to go higher. You know what Mr. Jefferson has said to me. I am for Washington, mother, one of these days--for I hold it sure that Mr. Jefferson will go there in some still higher place. He was my father's friend, and is ours still.
gpt
It may be that you will go to Washington, my son, said his mother;
human
I do not know. But will you stay there? The forest will call to you all your life--all your life! Do I not know you, then? Can I not see your life--all your life--as plainly as if it were written? Do I not know--your mother? Why should not your mother know?
gpt
How do you know, mother? What do you know? Tell me--about myself! Then I will tell you also. We shall see how we agree as to what I am and what I ought to do!
human
My son, it is no question of what you ought to do, for that blends too closely in fate with what you surely will do--must do--because it was written for you. Yonder forest will always call to you. She turned now toward the sun, sinking across the red-leaved forest lands.
gpt
The wilderness is your home. You will go out into it and return--often; and then at last you will go and not come back again--not to me--not to anyone will you come back.
human
You are old, Meriwether Lewis! It is time, now. You are a man. You _always_ were a man! You were born old. You never have been a boy, and never can be one. You never were a child, but always a man. When you were a baby, you did not smile; when you were a boy, you always had your way. My boy, a long time ago I ceased to oppose that will of yours--I knew that it was useless. But, ah, how I have loved that will when I felt it was behind your promise! I knew you would do what you had set for yourself to do. I knew you would come back with deeds in your hand, my boy--gained through that will which never would bend for me or for anyone else in the world!
gpt
You were always old, always grown up, always resolved, always your own master--always Meriwether Lewis. When you were born, you were not a child. When the old nurse brought you to me--I can see her black face grinning now--she carried you held by the feet instead of lying on her arm. You _stood_, you were so strong! Your hair was dark and full even then. You were old! In two weeks you turned where you heard a sound--you recognized sight and sound together, as no child usually does for months. You were beautiful, my boy, so strong, so straight--ah, yes!--but you never were a boy at all. When you should have been a baby, you did not weep and you did not smile. I never knew you to do so. From the first, you always were a man.
human
That was well enough, for later we were left alone. But your father was in you. Do I not know well enough where you got that settled melancholy of yours, that despondency, that somber grief--call it what you like--that marked him all his life, and even in his death? That came from him, your father. I thank God I did not give you that, knowing what life must hold for you in suffering! He suffered, yes, but not as you will. And you must--you must, my son. Beyond all other men, you will suffer!
gpt
You were better named Cassandra, mother!
human
Yes, I am a prophetess, all too sooth a prophetess, my son. I see ahead as only a mother can see--perhaps as only one of the old Highland blood can see. I am soothseer and soothsayer, because you are blood of my blood, bone of my bone, and I cannot help but know. I cannot help but know what that melancholy and that resolution, all these combined, must spell for you. You know how his heart was racked at times?
gpt
Then know how your own must be racked in turn! said she.
human
My son, it is no ordinary fate that will be yours. You will go forward at all costs; you will keep your word bright as the knife in your belt--you will drive yourself. What that means to you in agony--what that means when your will is set against the unalterable and the inevitable--I wish--oh, I wish I could not see it! But I do see it, now, all laid out before me--all, all! Oh, Merne--may I not call you Merne once more before I let you go?