After listening to Clark's report of the troubles of the frontier colony, and doubtless enjoying his denunciation of the Transylvania Company, Governor Henry introduced him to the executive Council of the State, and he at once requested from them five hundred pounds of powder for frontier defence. He had determined to accomplish the object of his mission in any manner possible, and he knew that if he could induce the authorities of Virginia to provide for the defence of the frontier settlements, the announcement of her property rights in them would certainly follow, to the destruction of the plans of Henderson and his colleagues.
The Council, however, doubtless also foreseeing these consequences, declared that its powers could not be so construed as to give it authority to grant such a request. But Clark was insistent, and urged his case so effectively that, after considerable discussion, the Council announced that, as the call appeared urgent, they would assume the responsibility of lending five hundred pounds of powder to Clark, making him personally responsible for its value, in case their assumption of authority should not be upheld by the Burgesses. They then presented him with an order to the keeper of the public magazine, calling for the powder desired.
This was exactly what Clark did not want, as the loan of five hundred pounds of powder to George Rogers Clark, could in no sense be interpreted as an assumption by Virginia, of the responsibility of defending the western frontier, and his next act was most characteristic of the man. He returned the order with a curt note, declaring his intention of repairing at once to Kentucky, and exerting the resources of that country to the formation of an independent State, for, he frankly declared, "a country which is not worth defending is not worth claiming."
This threat proved instantly successful. The Council recalled Clark to their presence and, on August 23, 1776, delivered him another order calling for five hundred pounds of gunpowder, which was to be conveyed to Pittsburg by Virginia officials, there "to be safely kept and delivered to George Rogers Clark or his order, for the use of the said inhabitants of Kentucky."
With this concession Clark was completely satisfied, for he felt that by it Virginia was admitting her obligation to defend the pioneers of the West, and that an open declaration of sovereign rights over the territory must soon follow. He accordingly wrote to his friends in Kentucky, requesting them to receive the powder at Pittsburg, and convey it to the Kentucky stations, while he himself awaited the opening of the autumn session of the Virginia Assembly, where he hoped to procure a more explicit verdict against the claims of Henderson's Company.
At the time appointed for the meeting, Clark, accompanied by his colleague, Gabriel John Jones, proceeded to Williamsburg and presented his petition to the Assembly, where again his remarkable personality secured a victory. In spite of the vigorous exertions of Henderson and Campbell in behalf of the Transylvania Company, the Virginia Assembly (December 7, 1776) passed an act dividing the vast, ill-defined region, hitherto known as Fincastle County, into three sections, to be known as Kentucky County, Washington County, and Montgomery County, Virginia. The County of Kentucky, comprising almost the same territory as is contained in the present State of Kentucky, was thus recognized as a political unit of the Virginia Commonwealth, and as such was entitled to representation.
This statute decided the fate of the Transylvania Company, as there could not be two Sovereign Proprietors of the soil of Kentucky County.
And so passed, a victim to its own lust of gain, the last attempt to establish a proprietary government upon the free soil of the United States; and George Rogers Clark, as founder of Kentucky's first political organization, became the political father of the Commonwealth, even as Daniel Boone had been the father of her colonization.
FOOTNOTE:
[72] Copyright, 1909, by Moffat, Yard and Company.
EDWIN D. SCHOONMAKER
Edwin Davies Schoonmaker, poet, was born at Scranton, Pennsylvania, February 1, 1873. He removed from Ohio to Kentucky in 1886, and he lived at Lexington almost continuously until 1904. Mr. Schoonmaker was educated at old Kentucky (Transylvania) University; and in 1904 he married a Kentucky woman, who has published a play and a novel. For the last several years he and his wife have lived at Bearsville, New York, high up in the Catskills. Mr. Schoonmaker's first book was a verse play, entitled _The Saxons--a Drama of Christianity in the North_ (Chicago, 1905). This was based upon the attempt on the part of Rome to force the religion of Christ upon the pagans in the forests of the North, and it was a very strong piece of work. His second work, another verse drama, will appear in 1913, entitled _The Americans_.
It will be published by Mr. Mitchell Kennerley, for whom Mr.
Schoonmaker is planning two other plays. Mr. Schoonmaker has had short lyrics in many of the leading magazines.
BIBLIOGRAPHY. _The Arena_ (May, 1906); _Hampton's Magazine_ (June, 1910); _The Forum_ (August, 1912).
THE PHILANTHROPIST[73]
[From _The American Magazine_ (October, 1912)]
I neither praise nor blame thee, aged Scot, In whose wide lap the shifting times have poured The heavy burden of that golden hoard That shines far off and shall not be forgot.
I only see thee carving far and wide Thy name on many marbles through the land, Or flashing splendid from the jeweler's hand Where medaled heroes show thy face with pride.
Croesus had not such royal halls as thou, Nor Timon half as many friends as crowd Thy porches when thy largesses are loud, Learning and Peace are stars upon thy brow.
And still thy roaring mills their tribute bring As unto Caesar, and thy charities Have borne thy swelling fame beyond the seas, Where thou in many realms art all but king.
Yet when night lays her silence on thine ears And thou art at thy window all alone, Pondering thy place, dost thou not hear the groans Of them that bear thy burdens through the years?
FOOTNOTE:
[73] Copyright, 1912, by the Phillips Publishing Company.
CREDO HARRIS
Credo Harris, novelist, was born near Louisville, Kentucky, January 8, 1874. He was educated in the schools of Louisville and finished at college in the East. He settled in New York as a newspaper man and the following ten years of his life were given to that work. In 1908 Mr.
Harris abandoned daily journalism in order to devote himself to fiction. Only a few of his short-stories had gotten into the magazines when his first book, entitled _Toby, a Novel of Kentucky_ (Boston, 1912), appeared. In spite of the fact that the author's literary models were, perhaps, too manifest, _Toby_ was well liked by many readers. Mr. Harris's second story, _Motor Rambles in Italy_ (New York, 1912), was cordially received by those very critics who assailed his first volume with vehemence. It is both a book of travels and a romance, the recital being in the form of love letters to his sweetheart, Polly, and also descriptive of the country from Baden-Baden to Rome seen from the tonneau of a big touring-car. Mr.
Harris has a new story well under way, which will probably appear in 1913. He resides at Glenview, Kentucky, with his father, but his work on _The Louisville Herald_ takes him into town almost every day.
BIBLIOGRAPHY. Letters from Mr. Harris to the Author; _The Courier-Journal_ (November 30, 1912).
BOLOGNA[74]
[From _Motor Rambles in Italy_ (New York, 1912)]
Bologna! Home of the sausage! Does not your mouth water at just the thought of it! I can see your pretty nose turn up in a curve that simply screams "Disgusting"--but you have never been quite fair to this relic of menageries.
To-day at luncheon our waiter first pranced up with a dish I did not recognize. It has long been a rule of mine--especially in Italy--that when I do not recognize a dish I wave it by. But rules are sent broadcast before the Bolognese spirit of patriotism. Would I be permitted to refuse this dish? No. He poked it still nearer and gave me a polite look. "No," I said, "not any." He poked it still nearer and his look became troubled. "No," I said again. This time his look was indignant as he exclaimed: "But, signor, it is _mortadella_!"
Indeed, we found his persistence quite justifiable.
I could be satisfied to linger here. It is a pleasant mixture of cosmopolitan and mediaeval, blending a touch of geniality which adds much to its charm. The people are happier, perhaps it would be best to say more smiling, in Bologna than farther north. If one can be reconciled to the incongruity of living in a hotel that was a fifteenth century palace overlooking the solemn tombs of jurists, and then stepping to the corner for a twentieth century electric car, he can steel himself to put up with many other temperamental contradictions to be found in this capital of the Emilia.
But because of its cosmopolitanism I shall tell you little. In big places like this there is so much to see, so much to digest, so much to read out of guide books, that--what's the use? My letters are permitted, you have threatened, only so long as I tell an occasional thing which may serve you and the Dowager when you come through next year by motor, and while I do not believe you quite mean this, or would throw it down if you saw me heading toward the tender realms of nothingness, your wish shall, nevertheless, constitute my aim. Should I digress, it will be because my love for you is stronger than myself--an assertion of doubtful value at the present time.
So if you want to know Bologna, read your guide books. Here, you shall have only the more untrodden paths, which, if you follow as I have done, you may be fortunate. For you must know that all I have seen has been discovered by your eyes alone. Many a day has passed since you brought and taught me the things truly beautiful in this world. Great sculptures, rich paintings, magnificent architecture, are in the well worn paths of every one's progress which those who pass cannot help seeing, but a changing leaf, the sweep of a bird, a child's laugh at the roadside, ah, those are the bounties your hands have poured into my lap! Thousands pass along this way, piled high with perishable treasures, and never dream that they are trampling a masterpiece with every crunch of their bourgeoise boots.
FOOTNOTE:
[74] Copyright, 1912, by Moffat, Yard and Company.
HALLIE ERMINIE RIVES
Mrs. Hallie Erminie Rives-Wheeler, maker of mysteries, was born near Hopkinsville, Kentucky, May 2, 1874, the daughter of Colonel Stephen T. Rives. She is a cousin of Princess Troubetzkey, the celebrated Virginia novelist. Miss Rives, to give her her old name, was educated in Kentucky schools, after which she went to New York with her mother.
In 1896 Miss Rives's mother died and she and her father moved to Amherst county, Virginia, which is her present American home. Her literary labors fall naturally into two periods: the first, which included five "red-hot" books, as follows: _The Singing Wire and Other Stories_ (Clarksville, Tennessee, 1892), the "other stories" being four in number and nameless here; _A Fool in Spots_ (St. Louis, 1894); _Smoking Flax_ (New York, 1897); _As the Hart Panteth_ (New York, 1898); and _A Furnace of Earth_ (New York, 1900). Miss Rives's second period of work began with _Hearts Courageous_ (Indianapolis, 1902), a romance of Revolutionary Virginia, and continues to the present time.
This was followed by _The Castaway_ (Indianapolis, 1904), based upon the career of Lord Byron; and the great poems of the Englishman are made to swell the length of the story. In _Tales from Dickens_ (Indianapolis, 1905), Miss Rives did for the novelist what Lamb did for Shakespeare--made him readable for children. _Satan Sanderson_ (Indianapolis, 1907), a wild and thrilling tale of today, one of the "six best sellers" for many months, was followed by what is, perhaps, her best book, a story set in Japan, entitled _The Kingdom of Slender Swords_ (Indianapolis, 1910). Her latest novel is _The Valiants of Virginia_ (Indianapolis, 1912), the action of which begins in New York, but is transferred to Virginia. Miss Rives was married in Tokyo, Japan, December 29, 1906, to Mr. Post Wheeler, writer and diplomat, now connected with the American embassy at Rome. While none of her novels is set against Kentucky backgrounds, several of her short stories published in the magazines are Kentucky to the core.
BIBLIOGRAPHY. _The American Review of Reviews_ (October, 1902); _The Nation_ (August 11, 1904).
THE BISHOP SPEAKS[75]
[From _Satan Sanderson_ (Indianapolis, 1907)]