Part 33 (1/2)
He paused, took from the table a book and turned its leaves, then closed and laid it down again. ”I whistled you down the wind,” he said.
There was a silence, then, far away in the hot night, a dog howled. The hall clock struck the hour. Rand drew his breath sharply and turned in his chair. ”And you brought me here to-night to tell me so?”
”I will answer that presently. In these three years you have made yourself a great name in Virginia; and now your party--It is still your party?”
”It is still my party.”
”Your party wishes to make you Governor. You have travelled fast and far since the days when you walked with your father! Yesterday I was astounded to hear that you had refused the nomination.”
”Why should you be 'astounded'?”
”Because I hold you for a most ambitious man, and this is the plain, the apparent step in your fortunes. At what goal are you aiming?”
”I did not want the governors.h.i.+p, sir.”
”Then you want a greater thing. What it is--what it is”--With a sudden movement he rested his elbow on the table and regarded Rand from under the shelter of his hand. ”And so,” he said at last, in an altered voice,--”and so you will not be Governor. Well, it is an honourable post. This is late August, and in November you return to Richmond--”
”I go first across the mountains to examine a tract of land I have bought.”
”Indeed? When do you go?”
”I have not altogether decided.”
”Will you take Mrs. Rand with you?”
”I think so. Yes.”
”It is,” said Mr. Jefferson, ”a rough journey and a wild country for a lady.”
As he spoke he rose, and, going to a small table, poured for himself a little wine in a gla.s.s and drank it slowly, then, putting the gla.s.s gently down, pa.s.sed to a long window and stood, as Rand had stood before him, looking out into the night. When he turned, the expression of his face had again changed. ”It is growing late,” he said. ”In two days I return to Was.h.i.+ngton. The world will have grown older ere we meet again.
Who knows? We may never meet again. This night we may be parting forever. You ask me if I brought you here to tell you that I acquiesced in this quarrel of your making, shook you from my thoughts, and bade you an eternal farewell. That is as may be. Even now--even now the nature of our parting is in your hands!”
Rand also had risen. ”In this room, what can I say? Your kindness to me has been very great. My G.o.d, sir, I should be stock or stone not to feel abashed! And yet--and yet--Will you have it at last? You ask disciples.h.i.+p--you must have about you tame and obedient spirits--a Saint James the Greater and a Saint James the Less to hearken to your words and spread them far and wide, and all the attentive band to wait upon your wisdom! Free! We are tremendously free, but you must still be Lord and Master! Well, say that I rebel--”
”I see that you have done so,” said Jefferson, with irony. ”_I_ am not your Lord and Master.”
”I would not, if I could, have shunned this interview to-night. For long we have felt this strain, and now the sharp break is over. I shall sleep the better for it.”
”I am glad, sir, that you view it so.”
”For years I have worn your livery and trudged your road,--that fair, wide country road with bleating sheep and farmer folk, all going to markets dull as death! I've swincked and sweated for you on that road.
Now I'll tread my own, though I come at last to the gates of Tartarus!
My service is done, sir; I'm out of livery.”
”Your road!” exclaimed the other. ”Where does it lie, and who are your fellow travellers? John Randolph of Roanoke and the new Republicans? or monarchism and the Federalists? Or have I the honour, to-night, to entertain a Virginian Caesar?--perhaps even a Buonaparte?” His voice changed. ”Have you reflected, sir, that there is some danger in so free an expression of your mind?”
”I have reflected,” answered Rand, ”that there is no danger so intolerable as the chafing of a half-acknowledged bond. The clock is striking again. I owe you much, sir. I thank you for it. While I served you, I served faithfully. It is over now. I look you in the face and tell you this, and so I give you warning that I am free. Henceforth I act as my free will directs.”
”Act, then!” said the other. ”Act, and find a weight upon your genius heavier than all behests of duty, friends.h.i.+p, faith, and loyalty rolled in one! Single out from all humanity one man alone, and that yourself, surround him with a monstrous observance, sacrifice before him every living thing that shall cross his path, crown him with gold, and banish from his court every idea that will not play the sycophant! Seat him, a chained king, high in some red star!--and still, like a wandering wind, large and candid thought, straying some day past your gloomy windows, shall look within and say, 'See this slave to himself chained upon his burning throne!' When at last you hear the voice, try to break away.”