Editorial note: Elliott Coues’s 1893 Supplement to Jefferson’s 1813 Memoir of Meriwether Lewis. Coues expanded on Jefferson’s biographical sketch, drawing on additional sources to detail Lewis’s post-expedition career, his death along the Natchez Trace, and his posthumous reputation. Transcribed from the public-domain Coues 1893 reprint (vol. I), CIHM scan, cleaned via AI editorial pass.
BY DR. COUES,
EX-PRESIDENT JEFFERSON’S Memoir of Lewis is a noble and fitting tribute, leaving little to be desired as a contemporaneous biography. It has been accepted as authoritative and final, and has furnished the basis of every memoir of Lewis I have seen. As will be observed, however, I have found much historical matter to incorporate with it in the form of notes. What else I have to say concerns not Lewis’ life, but the circumstances of his death; and certain subsequent events, which may be brought together in the form of a supplement to Jefferson’s Memoir. The affirmation of suicide, though made without qualification, has not passed unchallenged into history; and the mystery of the tragic event will probably never be cleared up. Undoubtedly Jefferson wrote in the light of all the evidence that had reached him in 1813; but it appears that his view of the case was far from being that of persons who lived in the vicinity of the scene at the time. That Governor Lewis did not die by his own hand, but was murdered and robbed, was common report at the time, as vouched for by some persons still living; and the question came up in the Legislature of Tennessee at its session of 1849-50, in connection with the erection of the monument for which the Legislature had provided in 1848.
By far the most circumstantial account we have of the tragedy is that given by Alexander Wilson, the famous ornithologist, in a letter which was written to his friend and the engraver of his birds, Alexander Lawson, and which was published originally in The Portfolio, Vol. VII, No. 1, pp. 34-47, of date January, 1812, under the caption “Particulars of the Death of Capt. Lewis.” This was known and accessible to ex-President Jefferson; in fact, a letter from Paul Allen to him, which I have seen, calls his attention to it. But it is not noted in his Memoir of Lewis, and in the course of time has been practically forgotten, though it is included in the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart’s The Poems and Literary Prose of Alexander Wilson (2 vols., 8vo, Paisley, 1876). This important letter is dated “Natchez, Missisippi Ter., May 28th, 1811.” It tells the story of Lewis’ death as Wilson took it down from the lips of Mrs. Grinder, in her own house. I quote from The Portfolio those portions, pp. 36-38, which are pertinent to my purpose:
“. . . Next morning (Sunday) I rode six miles to a man’s of the name of Grinder, where our poor friend Lewis perished. In the same room where he expired, I took down from Mrs. Grinder the particulars of that melancholy event, which affected me extremely. This house or cabin is 72 miles from Nashville, and is the last white man’s as you enter the Indian country. Governor Lewis, she said, came there about sun-set, alone, and inquired if he could stay for the night; and, alighting, brought his saddle into the house. He was dressed in a loose gown, white, striped with blue. On being asked if he came alone, he replied that there were two servants behind, who would soon be up. He called for some spirits, and drank a very little. When the servants arrived, one of whom was a negro, he inquired for his powder, saying he was sure he had some powder in a canister. The servant gave no distinct reply, and Lewis, in the mean while, walked backwards and forwards before the door, talking to himself. Sometimes, she said, he would seem as if he were walking up to her; and would suddenly wheel round, and walk back as fast as he could. Supper being ready he sat down, but had eaten only a few mouthfuls when he started up, speaking to himself in a violent manner. At these times, she says, she observed his face to flush as if it had come on him in a fit. He lighted his pipe, and drawing a chair to the door sat down, saying to Mrs. Grinder, in a kind tone of voice, ‘Madam this is a very pleasant evening.’ He smoked for some time, but quitted his seat and traversed the yard as before. He again sat down to his pipe, seemed again composed, and casting his eyes wishfully towards the west, observed what a sweet evening it was. Mrs. Grinder was preparing a bed for him; but he said he would sleep on the floor, and desired the servant to bring the bear skins and buffaloe robe, which were immediately spread out for him; and it being now dusk the woman went off to the kitchen, and the two men to the barn, which stands about 200 yards off. The kitchen is only a few paces from the room where Lewis was, and the woman being considerably alarmed by the behaviour of her guest could not sleep, but listened to him walking backwards and forwards, she thinks, for several hours, and talking aloud, as she said, ‘like a lawyer.’ She then heard the report of a pistol, and something fall heavily on the floor, and the words ‘O Lord!’ Immediately afterwards she heard another pistol, and in a few minutes she heard him at her door calling out ‘O madam! give me some water, and heal my wounds.’ The logs being open, and unplastered, she saw him stagger back and fall against a stump that stands between the kitchen and room. He crawled for some distance, raised himself by the side of a tree, where he sat about a minute. He once more got to the room; afterwards he came to the kitchen door, but did not speak; she then heard him scraping the bucket with a gourd for water; but it appears that this cooling element was denied the dying man! As soon as day broke and not before, the terror of the woman having permitted him to remain for two hours in this most deplorable situation, she sent two of her children to the barn, her husband not being at home, to bring the servants; and on going in they found him lying on the bed; he uncovered his side and shewed them where the bullet had entered; a piece of the forehead was blown off, and had exposed the brains, without having bled much. He begged they would take his rifle and blow out his brains, and he would give them all the money he had in his trunk. He often said ‘I am no coward; but I am so strong, so hard to die.’ He begg’d the servant not to be afraid of him, for that he would not hurt him. He expired in about two hours, or just as the sun rose above the trees. He lies buried close by the common path, with a few loose rails thrown over his grave. I gave Grinder money to put a post fence round it, to shelter it from the hogs, and from the wolves; and he gave me his written promise he would do it. I left this place in a very melancholy mood, which was not much allayed by the prospect of the gloomy and savage wilderness which I was just entering alone. . . .”
Such is the horrible story told to Wilson by an eye- and ear-witness. We must accept the substantial accuracy of Wilson’s version, written almost immediately after he heard the narrative of Mrs. Grinder, and by one noted for habitual precision of statement. There is no more room to doubt Wilson’s painstaking correctness than there is reason for doubting his veracity. But the narrative of Mrs. Grinder is very extraordinary. A woman who could do as she said she did, after hearing and seeing what she testifies, must be judged “fit for treason, stratagem, and spoils,” and not to be believed under oath. The story is wildly improbable upon its face; it does not hang together; there is every sign that it is a concoction on the part of an accomplice in crime, either before or after the event. On the theory that Mrs. Grinder was privy to a plot to murder Governor Lewis, and therefore had her own part to play in the tragedy, even if that part were a passive one—or on the theory that, becoming afterward cognizant of the murder, she told a story to shield the actual criminal or criminals—on either of these theories we could understand Mrs. Grinder; otherwise her story is simply incredible. Yet it is upon such evidence as this that the imputation of suicide rests.
Governor Lewis’ alleged actions, before he retired to his room “about dusk,” seem nothing extraordinary. He certainly appears to have been fretted or worried about something; but there was nothing in his conduct which should have so alarmed Grinder’s wife that she could not sleep, but lay listening “she thinks for several hours.” The sort of a woman likely to be the wife of a keeper of a “stand” on the Natchez Trace in 1809 is not likely to have had such weak nerves as that. And where was Grinder himself on this fateful night? Then she hears two pistol-shots, a heavy fall, and an appeal for help. This, however, only moves her to peep through the cracks in the logs of the detached kitchen. There she sees her guest staggering, falling, and crawling about in the yard in search of water. Still she does not stir, and it is not till daybreak, about “two hours” after the shots were fired, that the terror of the woman permits her to give the alarm. This she does by sending “two children” to the barn to bring the servants, who meanwhile had heard nothing; and the whole party now, for the first time, musters courage enough to enter Governor Lewis’ room. Two hours more pass, during which they are begged and offered money to put him out of his misery; but nothing is done, and the governor expires as the sun tops the trees.
Governor Lewis may have committed the deed which history has laid to his charge, in a fit of suicidal mania; and the woman’s incoherent story may not have been intended to deceive, but may have arisen from confused memories of an exciting night. That is conceivable; but my contention is that the testimony, as we have it, does not suffice to prove suicide, and does raise a strong suspicion that Governor Lewis was foully dealt with by some person or persons unknown—presumably Grinder, or him and some accomplices. Until other evidence is forthcoming the victim of untimely fate should be given the full benefit of the doubt, that no stigma may rest on his illustrious name. History may never be able to disprove the alleged suicide; neither has history thus far proven the allegation. This death remains a mystery; but mystery should not be paraded as history.
Very recently the question has been reopened, with a view of setting aside the verdict of posterity, by Mr. James D. Park, a lawyer of Franklin, Tenn., who inclines strongly to the theory of murder and robbery, not suicide. Mr. Park’s article, over the pseudonym “John Quill,” was published in the Nashville (Tenn.) American of Sunday, September 6th, 1891. It occupies 4⅛ columns of the newspaper, and has two illustrations—one a portrait of Lewis, from the miniature profile in the possession of the State Historical Society of Tennessee at Nashville; the other a picture of the monument, from a sketch made by Mr. Park on the spot. Whatever view be taken of the tragedy, Mr. Park’s article is a valuable historical document, bringing news to most persons. Some of it is biographical, citing the brief notice in Howe’s Historical Collections of Virginia, and the more extended sketch of Lewis’ life in the Analectic Magazine and Naval Chronicle, VII. April, 1816, pp. 329-333 (with frontisp. portrait)—both of which were in turn based on Jefferson’s Memoir; another portion is historical, giving the action of the Tennessee Legislature, and the first report of the committee appointed to erect the monument, including a copy of the several inscriptions. The most original matter is the result of Mr. Park’s researches on the spot, which inclined him to the view of murder and not suicide. The picture of the monument is the first ever printed; though roughly executed, as usual with newspaper cuts, it gives an excellent idea of the object. I was put in private correspondence with Mr. Park, through the good offices of Governor Buchanan of Tennessee, and will adduce the substance of his new evidence, nearly in his own words.
As adequate to support the theory of suicide has been held Mr. Jefferson’s statement of hereditary hypochondria, developed to desperation under worry over some trouble about public money accounts. Mr. Jefferson touches very lightly upon the latter feature of the case, but others have spoken more pointedly. Thus in Howe’s Historical Collections, p. 171, we read: “He was subject to constitutional hypochondria, and while under the influence of a severe attack, shot himself on the borders of Tennessee in 1809, at the age of 35. This event was ascribed to the protest of some bills which he drew on the public account.” Again, we find in Jacob’s Life and Times of Patrick Gass, pp. 110, 111, remarks upon the same score, with some particulars to which ex-President Jefferson does no more than allude. Says Jacob:
“Lewis was appointed very shortly after his return in 1806, Governor of Louisiana Territory, as some acknowledgment of his merit, and compensation for his services. In this capacity he acted for some time, but unfortunately a misunderstanding arose between him and the government in regard to the settlement of his public accounts. He was the very soul of honor and of unimpeachable integrity, and the implied imputation dwelt too heavily upon his proud and sensitive spirit. He started to Washington City for an explanation, but never reached his destination. In company with another man [Mr. Neely] he traveled the old route followed by the boatmen at that day, through the Indian country, and having reached a small cabin occupied by a man named Grinders [Grinder] as a kind of tavern for travellers, just within the Chickasaw nation, near the Tennessee line, and between 25 and 30 [read 60 or 70] miles of Nashville, his man left him to go in search of a horse that had strayed. During his absence after the horse, Lewis shot himself twice with a pistol, and this failing to effect his purpose, he killed himself by cutting his throat with a knife [!]. No one saw him commit the act, but some of the [Grinder] family afterwards reported that they had observed indications that his mind was affected, on the morning of [evening before] his death. His body was buried at the corner of the cabin, and for a long time after, the spot was remembered by the adventurous traders who passed that way [along the Natchez Trace], between New Orleans and the upper country. Thus was ushered into eternity a brave and chivalrous spirit, goaded to desperation by the chafing of wounded honor. . . It is enough for the historian to say that he died with the cloud on his memory; and while he records his fate with a careful pen, he would ask of the world its most charitable judgment. The charges against him were hushed, communities and States vied to do him honor, and [in 1848] the Legislature of Tennessee, his adopted State, to manifest an appreciation of what was high and noble in his character and services, ordered a monument to be erected to his memory at the State’s expense.”
Mr. Jacob’s paragraph in Gass fairly reflects accredited history, excepting what he says of recourse to the knife.
A similar view of the case is presented in J. B. Killebrew’s Resources of Tennessee (Nashville, 1874), p. 791, where Lewis county is described: “In the very centre of the present county, on the line of the old Natchez Trace, while on a journey from the Territory of Louisiana, of which he was Governor, Merriwether [sic] Lewis committed suicide, being at the time a little over 35 years of age. On this very spot he was buried, and the Legislature of Tennessee in 1848 had a suitable monument erected to his memory. . . In the midst of dense woods, several miles from any human habitation, on the crest of a bold broad ridge, with deep gorges running toward the northeast and west, and near the commencement of the flat lands, this monument stands, seldom visited, and almost forgotten by the present generation. Its entire height is about 25 [read 20½] feet, and it is surrounded by an iron fence in a state of great dilapidation, many of the rods having been taken away.”
The Analectic Magazine and Naval Chronicle, Vol. VII., No. 40, April, 1816, gives a full-length portrait of Captain Lewis in Indian dress, as a frontispiece; and the same number of this magazine contains, pp. 329-333, a “Notice of Captain M. Lewis.” This is simply abridged from the Jefferson Memoir, and is mostly in the words of the latter. Concerning the portrait the editor says:
“The portrait of captain Lewis, given in the present number, is taken from a drawing of that officer belonging to his fellow traveler, governor Clark, who considers it an excellent likeness, and prizes it highly. The gentleman [name not given] who lent it to us remained here but a short time, and was obliged to take it with him; to which circumstance it is owing that our engraving from it is not executed in so good a style as we could have wished. But that engraving is a faithful copy of the original, which is believed to be the only likeness of Captain Lewis now extant. The ornaments worn by him when in the costume of an Indian warrior, (as represented in the picture) are preserved in the Philadelphia [Peale’s] Museum.”
We may now recur to Mr. Park’s article above described. Jefferson’s account (says Mr. Park in substance) was written in the light of such information as had reached him in 1813, at his home in Virginia. It would be interesting to know the exact sources of his information were this possible now, to judge for ourselves whether they were entirely free from suspicion. Probably such accounts did not convey the idea of murder and robbery. It then required several weeks for the news to travel from the scene to Washington; and whether the details of the death of Governor Lewis ever reached the national capital in official form cannot now be learned.
During the first years of this century a great military road was cut through the then wilderness of Tennessee and Mississippi, known as the “Natchez Trace.” It was made by Lieutenant Edmund Pendleton Gaines, U. S. A., who rose to be a major general during the war of 1812-15. It led southwest from Nashville, Tenn., to Natchez on the Mississippi river, and was the only public road in that region, cut to facilitate the movement of troops and the transportation of supplies to and from the newly acquired “Spanish country.” This old road has since been abandoned in many places, but in other parts of its length it is still (1891) used. Even where given up, and passing through open woods or inclosed in fields, its course can still be traced through Tennessee and Mississippi by its well-worn bed, lower than the adjoining land. Governor Lewis struck across country directly eastward from the Chickasaw Bluffs (the present site of Memphis, Tenn.), and probably made the Natchez Trace at or about where this Trace crosses the Tennessee river, in what is now Lauderdale Co., in northern Alabama, about 20 miles below the town of Florence, and traveled it for about a day’s march west of Newburgh, Lewis Co., Tenn., the scene of the tragedy. At this point in the journey, observes Mr. Park, “the conduct of Mr. Neely, the Indian agent, as mentioned in Mr. Jefferson’s account, seems to have been very strange. He had at the Chickasaw Bluffs volunteered to accompany Governor Lewis from there through the Indian country to the seat of government, in order to look after and watch over his distinguished guest, whom he had found quite indisposed, and, as alleged, showing signs of a disordered mind. They had servants and horses in their train; yet the recapture of two horses that had strayed from the camp was deemed by Mr. Neely of more importance than the welfare and safety of his friend, whom he permitted to go forward with the servants while he remained a whole day behind to look up the horses. The accounts do not show that he ever found them, or ever caught up with Governor Lewis.”
Thus it appears that from the point above noted Governor Lewis kept on, unattended by Mr. Neely, along the Natchez Trace. On this road, at intervals of about a day’s journey, say some 30 miles, there were primitive places of entertainment for man and beast, called “stands.” Governor Lewis reached one of these, kept by a Mr. Grinder. The site of “Grinder’s stand” is still seen, on a spot about sixty miles in an air-line southwest of Nashville, marked by the ruins of a stone chimney, a mound of earth, and the remains of a garden or small clearing in the forest. It is on the crest of a ridge, along which runs the Natchez Trace, not now used at this point. Even at this day the nearest habitation is a mile and a half or two miles distant. North of the site of the old house, and about 150 yards from it, on the east side of the road, is the great explorer’s grave, and the monument erected by the State of Tennessee to his memory. I give the results of Mr. Park’s inquiries on the spot, Nov. 21st, 1889, in his own words: “It has always been the firm belief of the people of this region that Governor Lewis was murdered and robbed. The oldest citizens now living remember the rumor current at the time as to the murder, and it seems that no thought of suicide ever obtained footing here. The writer recently had an interview with Mrs. Christina B. Anthony, who lives some two miles from the Lewis grave, and has lived all her life of 77 years in the neighborhood. She says that ‘old man Grinder’ kept a ‘stand’ for travelers on the Natchez Trace. Polly Spencer, whom she knew well before her death about 40 years ago, was a hired girl at Grinder’s when Governor Lewis was killed. Polly had often told the circumstances of the murder so far as she personally knew them. She was washing dishes in the kitchen after supper with some of the females in the family, when they heard a shot in the room where Captain Lewis was sleeping. All rushed into the room and found him dead in his bed. Captain Lewis, being fatigued from his journey, had retired immediately after supper. His only companion, she said, was a negro boy, who was attending the horses in the barn at the time. Old Grinder, who was of Indian blood, was at once suspected of the murder, ran away, was captured on Cane creek, brought back, and tried; but the proof not being positive, he was released. Only 25 cents was found on the person of Captain Lewis after he was shot. Old Grinder soon afterward removed to the western part of the State, and it was reported in his old neighborhood had bought a number of slaves and a farm, and seemed to have plenty of money. Before this he had always been quite poor.
“Mrs. Anthony says the people always believed old Grinder killed Mr. Lewis and got his money. She had never heard of the theory of suicide until the writer mentioned it to her. Mrs. Anthony was a young married woman, boarding with the father of Polly Spencer, when Polly told her of these circumstances. Mrs. Anthony thus heard an ear-witness, so to speak, relate the story of the murder, which is pretty direct evidence. She is a bright, active, intelligent old lady, and has for many years kept the little hotel at the hamlet of Newburgh, the county seat of Lewis County, which is just two miles east of the monument. She refers to her brother, Jason Boshears, 80 years of age, living near Mount Pleasant, 20 miles distant, and Mrs. Sallie Barham Sims, 82 years of age, living at Aetna Furnace, Hickman County, who were born and formerly lived near by, and who, she thinks, could give more in detail the circumstances of the murder, as developed on the trial of old Grinder. It was, however, inconvenient for the writer to look up these two old persons.
“Others living in Lewis and adjoining counties have been conversed with, who remember the general belief at the time that Grinder killed his guest for the purpose of robbery. He must have observed that Captain Lewis was a person of distinction and wealth; that he was almost alone and probably had money with him. It seems incredible that a young man of 35, the governor of the vast territory of Louisiana, then on his way from his capital to that of his nation, where he knew he would be received with all the distinction and consideration due to his office and reputation, should take his own life. His whole character is a denial of this theory. He was too brave and conscientious in the discharge of every duty, public and private; too conspicuous a person in the eyes of the country, and crowned with too many laurels, to cowardly sneak out of the world by the back way, a self-murderer. This idea was doubtless invented to cover up the double crime of robbery and murder, and seems to have been the only version of his death that reached Mr. Jefferson and his other friends in Virginia.”
This is literally a lawyer’s brief, summing such evidence as could be procured to defend Governor Lewis from the charge of suicide. It is probably as strong a presentation of the case as is now possible. It also falls in well with the Wilson evidence already adduced—which is the more remarkable, in that Wilson took Mrs. Grinder’s wild story to be a statement of fact, and evidently believed that poor Lewis had killed himself. That the new Park testimony is conclusive, however, Mr. Park himself would probably not urge. That the theory of murder was a matter of common report, acted upon at the time to the extent of the arrest and trial of Grinder, and that it has ever since been believed by the community, is established by direct testimony. But the evidence, mainly circumstantial, did not suffice to convict Grinder or anyone else of murder. The fragmentary evidence which has come down to us, moreover, does not hang together well. It even opens up the doubt that we have the true date of death within 24 hours. Jefferson’s account makes the hour “about three o’clock in the night,” when Polly Spencer is not likely to have been washing dishes in the kitchen with others of the household. This means 3 a.m., of the historical date, October 11th, 1809; but from what Mr. Park has adduced, it would appear that, irrespective of mode of death, Governor Lewis lost his life shortly after the usual hour of an evening meal, on October 10th. Had Polly and all the rest “rushed into the room” on hearing the shot, and “found him dead in his bed,” it seems likely that more positive and detailed accounts of the scene would have at once come into existence and been perpetuated. But nothing appears of the whereabouts of the supposititious murderer at this moment; and an intending murderer would hardly have chosen so early an hour, when all the family were up and about, and he knew he had the whole night in which to execute his design at leisure. It is not unreasonable to translate Mrs. Anthony’s report to Mr. Park—made about 80 years after the event, it must be remembered—in somewhat these words: Polly Spencer (had been) washing dishes (the evening before; and some hours afterward, when the family had been abed and asleep) they heard the shot, and rushed into the room, etc. This might easily have been past midnight of October 10th, or about the hour alleged of October 11th. But even were the date fixed to the hour, the question of murder or suicide would not, thereby, be left other than it was before.
Mr. Park seems to me to present a strong case,—perhaps the strongest that will ever be drawn up,—and deserves much credit for thus undertaking to clear so great a name from so grave an imputation. Prior to making his investigations he had never heard of the Wilson testimony above given, and had read only Mr. Jefferson’s account of the death. In fact he had nothing but the common belief of the people to go upon. He cites Governor Lewis’ established reputation and well-known circumstances; he brings forward an actual arrest and trial for murder; and he establishes the facts that murder was at the time a matter of common allegation and belief, and has been from that day to this the tradition of the community. These are strong points. But the actual testimony adduced at this time is from the memory of one person as to events of about eighty years ago; it is at second-hand, indirect, and circumstantial only; thus being fatally defective. It is also offset by the unqualified statements of Mr. Jefferson, a wary and astute man of the world, accustomed to weigh his words well; one who must have been satisfied in his own mind that he had the facts of a case beyond his personal knowledge; and one who had every imaginable reason—personal, official, or other—to put the matter in the most favorable light. The mystery remains, and it is not probable that the truth will ever be known.
It is a relief to turn from this sad scene, and see what has been done to honor Governor Lewis by the country he loved and served so well. The erection of his monument is an incident in the history of a State.
On the 21st of December, 1843, the legislature of Tennessee passed an act creating the County of Lewis, “In honor of Capt. Merrewether Lewis, who has rendered distinguished services to his country, and whose remains lie buried and neglected within its limits.” The grave is in the exact center of this county, which was surveyed from this point and carved out of the then surrounding counties of Maury, Hickman, Wayne, and Lawrence.
On the 4th of February, 1848, the same legislature appropriated $500 for the erection of a suitable monument, and appointed four distinguished citizens of Tennessee as a committee to carry out this design and report to the next legislature. The gentlemen accepted the commission as a labor of love and duty. The “Report of the Lewis Monumental Committee,” made to the legislature of 1849-50, as appears from the Appendix to the Journal of the House of Representatives, pp. 238-240, is as follows:
“To the General Assembly of the State of Tennessee:
“By the ninth section of an act passed at the last session of the General Assembly of this State, entitled an act to establish the County of Lewis, the sum of $500 was appropriated, or so much thereof as might be necessary, to preserve the place of interment where the remains of General Merriwether Lewis were deposited; and the undersigned were appointed the agents of the General Assembly to carry into execution the provisions of the act, and report to the present General Assembly.
“Looking upon the object to be accomplished to be one highly honorable to the State, the undersigned entered upon the duties assigned them most cheerfully, and with as little delay as possible. They consulted with the most eminent artists and practical mechanics as to the kind of monument to be erected, and a plan being agreed upon they employed Mr. Lemuel W. Kirby, of Columbia, to execute it for the sum of five hundred dollars.
“The entire monument is twenty and a half feet high. The design is simple, but is intended to express the difficulties, successes, and violent termination of a life which was marked by bold enterprise, by manly courage and devoted patriotism. The base of the monument is of rough unhewn stone, eight feet high, and nine feet square where it rises to the surface of the ground. On this, rests a plinth of cut stone four feet square, and eighteen inches in thickness [height], on which are the inscriptions which are given below. On this plinth stands a broken column eleven feet high, two and a half feet in diameter at the base, and a few inches smaller at the top. The top is broken to denote the violent and untimely end of a bright and glorious career. The base is composed of a species of sandstone found in the neighborhood of the grave. The plinth and shaft, or column, are made of a fine limestone, commonly known as Tennessee marble. Around the monument is erected a handsome wrought-iron rail fence.
“Great care was taken to identify the grave. George Nixon, Esq., an old Surveyor, had become very early acquainted with its locality. He pointed out the place; but to make assurance doubly sure the grave was reopened and the upper part of the skeleton examined, and such evidences found as to leave no doubt of the place of interment. Witnesses were called and their certificate, with that of the Surveyor, prove the fact beyond dispute.
“The inscription upon the plinth was furnished by Prof. Nathaniel Cross, of the University of Nashville. It is beautiful and appropriate. It is placed on the different sides of the plinth, and is as follows:
[WEST FACE.]
Merriwether Lewis,
Born near Charlottesville, Virginia, August 18, 1774,
Died October 11, 1809, aged 35 years.[SOUTH FACE.]
An officer of the Regular Army—Commander of the Expedition to the Oregon in 1803-1806—Governor of the Territory of Louisiana—His melancholy death occurred where this monument now stands, and under which rest his mortal remains.[EAST FACE.]
In the language of Mr. Jefferson: ‘His courage was undaunted. His firmness and perseverance yielded to nothing but impossibilities; A rigid disciplinarian, yet tender as a father of those committed to his charge; honest, disinterested, liberal, with a sound understanding and a scrupulous fidelity to truth.’[NORTH FACE.]
Immaturus obi: sed tu felicior annos
Vive meos, Bona Respublica! Vive tuos.Erected by the Legislature of Tennessee.
A. D. 1848.“In the Latin distich, many of your honorable body will no doubt recognize as the affecting epitaph on the tomb of a young wife, in which, by a prosopopoeia, after alluding to her immature death, she prays that her happier husband may live out her years and his own:
‘Immatura peri: sed tu felicior annos
Vive meos, conjux optime! Vive tuos.’“Under the same figure the deceased is represented, in the Latin distich as altered, after alluding to his early death, as uttering as a patriot a similar prayer, that the republic may fulfill her high destiny, and that her years may equal those of time. As the distich now stands, the figure may be made to apply, either to the whole Union, or to Tennessee that has honored his memory by the erection of a monument.
“The impression has long prevailed that under the influence of disease of body and mind—of hopes based upon long and valuable services—not merely deferred but wholly disappointed—Governor Lewis perished by his own hands. It seems to be more probable that he died by the hands of an assassin. The place at which he was killed is even yet a lonely spot. It was then wild and solitary, and on the borders of the Indian nation. Maj. M. L. Clark, a son of Governor Clark, of Missouri, in a letter to the Rev. Mr. Cressey, of Maury Co., says: ‘Have you ever heard of the report, that Governor Lewis did not destroy his own life, but was murdered by his servant, a Frenchman, who stole his money and horses, returned to Natchez, and was never afterwards heard of? This is an important matter in connection with the erection of a monument to his memory, as it clearly removes from my mind, at least, the only stigma upon the fair name I have the honor to bear.’
“The undersigned would suggest to the General Assembly the propriety of having an acre of ground, or some other reasonable quantity, around the grave, secured against the entry of private persons. This can be done either by reserving the title in the State, or by directing a grant to issue in the name of the governor and his successors in office. The first mode would probably be the best.
“All of which is respectfully submitted.
“Edmund Dillahunty,
“Barclay Martin,
“Robert A. Smith,
“Samuel B. Moore.”
At the time of Mr. Park’s visit to the grave, November 21st, 1889, the base of the monument was somewhat moss-grown, the inscriptions on the plinth were scarcely legible, and the iron fence was nearly all gone. It is said that the iron was taken away during the War of the Rebellion to make horseshoes, as the production of iron was then almost entirely suspended in the South. The acre reserved around the monument has since become “God’s Acre” indeed, where rest the remains of one of his noblest works, albeit now indistinguishable from humbler dust in a common burying-ground. “Far out in the native forest, on the highlands, with no human dwelling near, it is indeed a lonely spot, where the wild deer and the fox are still pursued by the hunter’s hounds. The existence of such a grave and monument is scarcely known outside of the State, and to but few anywhere of the present generation. Tennessee would be loath to give up the honored dust which has slept in her bosom for more than eighty years; but would it not be a graceful, if too long neglected, act, should Congress authorize the erection of an appropriate monument of bronze at the national capital, to the memory of the accomplished soldier and scientist who led the first expedition through the unknown gateways of the mountains to the Pacific, and the mystery of whose untimely end will perhaps never be solved?”
