What do you think?
Rate this book


688 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1952
All this crossing of the plains had meant new landscapes, new experiences, new peoples, and they were all strange...Everywhere the sun mocked the eye with unearthly distortions. Seared eyes could find no trees for solace except the willows and the cottonwoods that marked watercourses and sometimes a small, hidden ravine choked with smaller stuff. Only the earth and the sun and the arch of the sky, buffalo grass everywhere and then taller grasses. Ahead of them the grass bent as the wind trod it; the line of horsemen bent it too as they crossed; it rose again from wind and hoof and closed behind them and no sign of their passing had been left...
Lewis had the faculty of command and exercised it by instinct. He was the better educated and was a citizen of the world and a diplomat. His mind was restless, inquiring, speculative, scientific. He was introspective, humorous though rather pompously so, mercurial, moody, and he expressed himself in elaborate prose. There was not much warmth in him, he was a solitary and a melancholiac, and he was saturated with romantic emotions. He belonged to a type very common in our westering, the complexly introverted personalities who turned to the solitude and beauties and challenges of nature to satisfy a need that human association could not assuage.
Charles Floyd had been dead these two years and is buried on a bluff upriver; we passed his grave a few days back and found that Indians had opened it. John Colter is not here, having turned back to the Yellowstone. Charbonneau and Sacajawea and the little boy are also absent...So there are Meriweather Lewis...and William Clark...The hunter George Drewyer. Three sergeants...These in bold relief. There will be other figures in low relief, as many as the sculptor may care to use. Francisco Vasquez de Coronado, who first heard of the river whose olive-drab water slurs round the sterns of the anchored boats. Jolliet and Marquette who first saw it - "I have seen nothing more frightful." Many who traveled desirously toward the Western Sea: Cartier, Hudson, John Smith, Champlain, Brule, Nicolet, Duluth, La Salle, the defeated Verendrye (many defeated men, drowned or scalped or dead in bed so long ago no one remembers them), the thin-nosed Jonathan Carver, John Evans who left Wales to find Madoc's lost colony. There are as many as the sculptor may desire: they are ghosts, nothing of them lived on but their desire or dream. None saw the Western Sea, or the place where the Great River of the West reached the South Sea, or whither the Missouri led, or the mountains whose stones shone night and day...