Flagg's The Far West, 1836-1837, part 1
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Title: Flagg's The Far West, 1836-1837, part 1
Author: Edmund Flagg
Editor: Reuben Gold Thwaites
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FLAGG'S THE FAR WEST, 1836-1837, PART 1 ***
Early Western Travels
1748-1846
Volume XXVI
Early Western Travels
1748-1846
A Series of Annotated Reprints of some of the best and
rarest contemporary volumes of travel, descriptive of
the Aborigines and Social and Economic Conditions in
the Middle and Far West, during the Period of Early
American Settlement
Edited with Notes, Introductions, Index, etc., by
Reuben Gold Thwaites, LL.D.
Editor of "The Jesuit Relations and Allied Documents,"
"Original Journals of the Lewis and Clark Expedition,"
"Hennepin's New Discovery," etc.
Volume XXVI
Part I of Flagg's The Far West, 1836-1837
[Illustration]
Cleveland, Ohio
The Arthur H. Clark Company
1906
COPYRIGHT 1906, BY
THE ARTHUR H. CLARK COMPANY
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
The Lakeside Press
R. R. DONNELLEY & SONS COMPANY
CHICAGO
CONTENTS OF VOLUME XXVI
PREFACE TO VOLUMES XXVI AND XXVII. _The Editor_ 9
THE FAR WEST: OR, A TOUR BEYOND THE MOUNTAINS. Embracing
Outlines of Western Life and Scenery; Sketches of the
Prairies, Rivers, Ancient Mounds, Early Settlements
of the French, etc. etc. (The first thirty-two chapters,
being all of Vol. I of original, and pp. 1-126 of Vol. II.)
_Edmund Flagg._
Copyright Notice 26
Author's Dedication 27
Author's Preface 29
Author's Table of Contents 33
Text (chapters i-xxxii; the remainder appearing in
our volume xxvii) 43
ILLUSTRATIONS TO VOLUME XXVI
Map of Oregon; drawn by H. J. Kelley, 1830 24
Facsimile of title-page to Vol. I of Flagg's _The Far West_ 25
PREFACE TO VOLUMES XXVI-XXVII
These two volumes are devoted to reprints of Edmund Flagg's _The Far
West_ (New York, 1838), and Father Pierre Jean de Smet's _Letters and
Sketches, with a Narrative of a Year's Residence among the Indian
Tribes of the Rocky Mountains_ (Philadelphia, 1843). Flagg's
two-volume work occupies all of our volume xxvi and the first part of
volume xxvii, the remaining portion of the latter being given to De
Smet's book.
Edmund Flagg was prominent among early American prose writers, and
also ranked high among our minor poets. A descendant of the Thomas
Flagg who came to Boston from England, in 1637, Edmund was born
November 24, 1815, at Wescasset, Maine. Being graduated with
distinction from Bowdoin College in 1835, in the same year he went
with his mother and sister Lucy to Louisville, Kentucky. Here, in a
private school, he taught the classics to a group of boys, and
contributed articles to the Louisville _Journal_, a paper with which
he was intermittently connected, either as editorial writer or
correspondent, until 1861.
The summer and autumn of 1836 found Flagg travelling in Missouri and
Illinois, and writing for the _Journal_ the letters which were later
revised and enlarged to form _The Far West_, herein reprinted.
Tarrying at St. Louis in the autumn of 1836, our author began the
study of law, and the following year was admitted to the bar; but in
1838 he returned to newspaper life, taking charge for a time of the
St. Louis _Commercial Bulletin_. During the winter of 1838-39 he
assisted George D. Prentice, founder of the Louisville _Journal_, in
the work of editing the Louisville _Literary News Letter_. Finding,
however, that newspaper work overtaxed his health, Flagg next accepted
an invitation to enter the law office of Sergeant S. Prentiss at
Vicksburg, Mississippi, where in addition to his legal duties he found
time to edit the Vicksburg _Whig_. Having been wounded in a duel with
James Hagan of the _Sentinel_ in that city, Flagg returned to the less
excitable North and undertook editorial duties upon the _Gazette_ at
Marietta, Ohio (1842-43), and later (1844-45) upon the St. Louis
_Evening Gazette_. He also served as official reporter of the Missouri
state constitutional convention the following year, and published a
volume of its debates; subsequently (until 1849) acting as a court
reporter in St. Louis.
The three succeeding years were spent abroad; first as secretary to
Edward A. Hannegan, United States minister to Berlin, and later as
consul at Venice. In February, 1852, he returned to America, and
during the presidential campaign of that year edited a Democratic
journal at St. Louis, known as the _Daily Times_. Later, as a reward
for political service, he was made superintendent of statistics in the
department of state, at Washington--a bureau having special charge of
commercial relations. Here he was especially concerned with the
compilation of reports on immigration and the cotton and tobacco
trade, and published a _Report on Commercial Relations of the United
States with all Foreign Nations_ (4 vols., Washington, 1858). Through
these reports, particularly the last named, Flagg's name became
familiar to merchants in both the United States and Europe. From 1857
to 1860 he was Washington correspondent for several Western
newspapers, and from 1861 to 1870 served as librarian of copyrights in
the department of the interior. Having in 1862 married Kate Adeline,
daughter of Sidney S. Gallaher, of Virginia, he moved to Highland
View in that state (1870), and died there November 1, 1890.
In addition to his labors in the public service and as a newspaper
man, Flagg found time for higher literary work, and won considerable
distinction in that field. His first book, _The Far West_, although
somewhat stilted in style, possesses considerable literary merit.
Encouraged by the success of his initial endeavor, he wrote the
following year (1839) the _Duchess of Ferrara_ and _Beatrice of
Padua_, two novels, each of which passed through at least two
editions. The _Howard Queen_ (1848) and _Blanche of Artois_ (1850)
were prize productions. _De Molai_ (1888), says the New York _Sun_ of
the period, is "a powerful, dramatic tale which seems to catch the
very spirit of the age of Philip of France. It is rare to find a story
in which fact and invention are so evenly and adroitly balanced." Our
author also wrote several dramas, which were staged in Louisville,
Cincinnati, St. Louis, and New York; he also composed numerous poems
for newspapers and magazines. His masterpiece, however, was a history
dedicated to his lifelong friend and colleague, George D. Prentice,
entitled _The City of the Sea_ (2 vols., New York, 1853). This work
was declared by the _Knickerbocker_ to be "a carefully compiled,
poetically-written digest of the history of the glorious old Venice--a
passionate, thrilling, yet accurate and sympathetic account of the
last struggle for independence." At the time of his death Flagg had in
preparation a volume of reminiscences, developed from a diary kept
during forty years, but this has never been published.[1]
[1] For a list of Flagg's prose and poetical writings, contributions
to periodicals, and editorial works, see "Annual Report of the
Librarian of Bowdoin College for the year ending June 1, 1891,"
in Bowdoin College _Library Bulletin_ (Brunswick, Maine, 1895).
"In hope of renovating the energies of a shattered constitution," we
are told, Flagg started in the early part of June, 1836, on a journey
to what was then known as the Far West. Taking a steamboat at
Louisville, he went to St. Louis by way of the Ohio and the
Mississippi, and after a brief delay ascended the latter to the mouth
of the Illinois, and thence on to Peoria. Prevented by low water from
proceeding farther, he returned by the same route to St. Louis, whence
after three weeks' stay, spent either in the sick chamber or in making
short trips about the city and its environs, the traveller crossed the
Mississippi and struck out on horseback across the Illinois prairies,
visiting Edwardsville, Alton, Carlinsville, Hillsborough, Carlisle,
Lebanon, Belleville, and the American Bottoms. In July, after
recrossing the Mississippi, he visited in like manner St. Charles,
Missouri, by way of Bellefontaine and Florissant; crossed the
Mississippi near Portage des Sioux, and passed through the Illinois
towns of Grafton, Carrollton, Manchester, Jacksonville, Springfield,
across Grand Prairie to Shelbyville, Mount Vernon, Pinkneyville, and
Chester, and returned to St. Louis by way of the old French
settlements of Kaskaskia, Prairie du Rocher, and Cahokia.
During this journey Flagg wrote for the Louisville _Journal_, as
already stated, a series of letters describing the country through
which he travelled. Hastily thrown together from the pages of his note
book, this correspondence appeared anonymously under the title,
"Sketches of a Traveller." They were, however, soon attributed to
Flagg, and two years later were collected by the author and published
in two small volumes by Harper and Brothers (New York, 1838), as _The
Far West_. These volumes are in many respects the best description of
the Middle West that had appeared up to the time they were written.
Roughly following the journals of Michaux, Harris, and Cuming by
forty, thirty, and twenty years respectively, Flagg skillfully shows
the remarkable growth and development of the Western country. His
descriptions of the Ohio, Mississippi, and Illinois rivers are still
among the best in print, particularly from the artistic standpoint.
His account of the steamboat traffic is valuable for the history of
navigation on the Western rivers, and shows vividly the obstacles
which still confronted merchants of that time. Chapters xi, xii, and
xiii, dealing with St. Louis and its immediate vicinity, are the most
detailed in our series, while the descriptions of St. Charles and the
Illinois towns through which Flagg passed, are excellent.
The modern reader cannot but wish that Flagg had devoted less space to
his youthful philosophizing, but the atmosphere is at least wholesome.
Unlike Harris, whose criticism of Western society was keen and acrid,
Flagg was a man of broad sympathies, possessing an insight into human
nature remarkable for so youthful a writer--for he was but twenty
years of age at the time of his travels, and twenty-two when the book
was published. Although mildly reproving the old French settlers for
their lack of enterprise, he fully appreciates their domestic virtues,
and gives a faithful picture of these pleasure-loving, contented,
unprogressive people. His description of the once thriving villages of
Kaskaskia, Prairie du Rocher, and Cahokia, are valuable historically,
as showing the decay settling upon the French civilization after a few
years of American occupation. Our author's interview with the Mormon
convert, his conversations with early French and American settlers,
his accounts of political meetings, his anecdotes illustrating Western
curiosity, and particularly his carefully-recounted local traditions,
throw much light on the beliefs, manners, and customs of the Western
people of his time. _The Far West_ is thus not only a graphic and
often forceful description of the interesting region through which the
author travelled, but a sympathetic synopsis of its local annals,
affording much varied information not otherwise obtainable. The
present reprint, with annotations that seek to correct its errors,
will, we think, prove welcome in our series.
In the _Letters and Sketches_ of Father de Smet, we reprint another
Western classic, related to the volumes of Flagg by their common
terminus of travel at St. Louis.
No more interesting or picturesque episode has occurred in the history
of Christian missions in the New World, than the famous visit made in
the autumn of 1831 to General William Clark at St. Louis by the
Flathead chiefs seeking religious instruction for their people.
Vigorously exploited in the denominational papers of the East, this
delegation aroused a sentiment that led to the founding of Protestant
missions in Oregon and western Idaho, and incidentally to the solution
of the Oregon question. But in point of fact, the Flathead deputation
was sent to secure a Catholic missionary; and not merely one but four
such embassies embarked for St. Louis before the great desideratum, a
"black robe" priest, could be secured for ministration to this
far-distant tribe. Employed in the Columbian fur-trade were a number
of Christian Iroquois from Canada, who had been carefully trained at
St. Regis and Caughnawaga in all the observances of the Roman Catholic
church. Upon the Pacific waterways and in the fastnesses of the
Rockies, these Iroquois taught their fellow Indians the ordinances of
the church and the commands of the white man's Great Spirit. John
Wyeth (see our volume xxi) testifies to the honesty and humanity of
the Flathead tribe: "they do not lie, steal, nor rob any one, unless
when driven too near to starvation." He also testifies that they
"appear to keep the Sabbath;" and that their word is "as good as the
Bible." These were the neophytes who craved instruction, and to whom
was assigned that remarkable Jesuit missionary, Father Jean Pierre de
Smet.
Born in Belgium in 1801, young De Smet was educated in a religious
school at Malines. When twenty years of age he responded to an appeal
to cross the Atlantic and carry the gospel to the red men of the
Western continent. Arrived in Philadelphia (1821), the young Belgian
was astonished to see a well-built town, travelled roads, cultivated
farms, and other appurtenances of civilization; he had expected only a
wilderness and savages. Two years were spent in the Jesuit novitiate
in Maryland, before the zealous youth saw any traces of frontier life.
Then the youthful novice was removed to Florissant, Missouri, not far
from St. Louis, where the making of a log-cabin and the breaking of
fresh soil furnished a mild foretaste of his future career. Still more
years elapsed before the cherished project of missionary labor could
be realized. In 1829 St. Louis University was founded, and herein the
young priest, who had been ordained in 1827, was employed upon the
instructional force. Later years (1833-37) were spent in Europe, while
recruiting his health and securing supplies for the infant university.
It was not until 1838 that the first missionary enterprise was
undertaken by Father de Smet, when a chapel for the Potawatomi was
built on the site of the modern Council Bluffs. There, in 1839, the
fourth Flathead deputation rested after the long journey from their
Rocky Mountain home; and at the earnest solicitation of the young
missioner, he was in the spring of 1840, detailed by his superior to
ascertain and report upon the prospects of a mission to the mountain
Indians.
Of the two tribesmen who had come down to St. Louis, Pierre the
Left-handed (Gaucher) was sent back to his people with news of the
success of the embassy, while his colleague Ignace was detained to
serve as guide to the adventurous Jesuit who in April, 1840, set forth
for the Flathead country with the annual fur-trade caravan. The route
traversed was the well-known Oregon Trail as far as the Green River
rendezvous; there the father was rejoiced to meet a deputation of ten
Flatheads, sent to escort him to their habitat, and at Prairie de la
Messe was celebrated for them the first mass in the Western mountains.
The trail led them on through Jackson's and Pierre's Holes; and in the
latter valley the waiting tribesmen to the number of sixteen hundred
had collected, and received the "black robe" as a messenger from
Heaven. Chants and prayers were heard on every side; "in a fortnight,"
reports the delighted missionary, "all knew their prayers." After two
months spent among his "dear Flatheads," wandering with them across
the divide, and encamping for some time at the Three Forks of the
Missouri--where nearly forty years before Lewis and Clark first
encountered the Western Indians--De Smet took leave of his neophytes.
Protected by a strong guard through the hostile Blackfeet country, he
arrived at last at the fur-trade post of Fort Union at the junction of
the Missouri and the Yellowstone. Descending thence to St. Louis he
arrived there on the last day of December, 1840.
The remainder of the winter was occupied in preparations for a new
journey, and in securing men and supplies for the equipment of the
far-away mission begun under such favorable auspices. Once more the
father departed from Westport--this time in May, 1841. The little
company consisted, besides himself, of two other priests and three lay
brothers, all of the latter being skilled mechanics. Among the members
of the caravan were a number of California pioneers, one of whom has
thus related his impressions of the young missionary: "He was genial,
of fine presence, and one of the saintliest men I have ever known, and
I cannot wonder that the Indians were made to believe him divinely
protected. He was a man of great kindness and great affability under
all circumstances; nothing seemed to disturb his temper."[2]
[2] John Bidwell, "First Emigrant Train to California," in
_Century Magazine_, new series, xix, pp. 113, 114.
Father de Smet's letters describe in detail the scenery and incidents
of the route from the eastern border of Kansas to Fort Hall, in Idaho,
where the British factor received the travellers with abounding
hospitality. Here some of the Flatheads were in waiting to convey the
missionaries to the tribe, the chiefs of which met them in Beaver Head
Valley, Montana, and testified their welcome with dignified
simplicity. Passing over to the waters of the Columbia, they founded
the mission of St. Mary upon the first Sunday in October, in the
beautiful Bitter Root valley at the site of the later Fort Owen.
Thence Father de Smet made a rapid journey in search of provisions to
Fort Colville, on the upper Columbia, but was again at his mission
stockade before the close of the year. In April a longer journey was
projected, as far as Fort Vancouver, on the lower Columbia, where Dr.
McLoughlin, the British factor, received the good priest with that
cordial greeting for which he was already famous. During this journey
the father narrowly escaped drowning in the turbulent rapids of the
Columbia, where five of his boatmen perished. Returned to St. Mary's,
the prospects for a harvest of souls both among the Flatheads and the
neighboring tribes appeared so promising that the missionary
determined to seek re-enforcement and further aid in Europe. Thereupon
he left his companions in charge of the "new Paraguay" of his hopes,
and once more undertook the long and adventurous journey to the
settlements, this time by way of the Yellowstone and Missouri rivers,
arriving at St. Louis the last of October, 1842. At this point the
journeys detailed in the volume here reprinted come to an end. The
later career of Father de Smet and his subsequent journeyings will be
detailed in the preface to volumes xxviii and xxix, in the latter of
which will appear his _Oregon Missions_.
Father de Smet's writings on missionary subjects ended only with his
death, and were increasingly voluminous and detailed. The _Letters and
Sketches_ were his first published work, with the exception of a
portion of a compilation that appeared in 1841, on the Jesuit missions
of Missouri. We find therefore, in the present reprint, the vitality
and enthusiasm of the young traveller relating new scenes, and the
abounding joy of the successful missionary uplifting a barbaric race.
The book was written with the avowed purpose of creating interest in
his newly-organized work, and securing contributions therefor. The
freshness of description, the wholesome simplicity of the narrative,
the frank presentation of wilderness life, charm the reader, and make
this book a classic of early Western exploration. Cast in the form of
letters, wherein there is more or less repetition of statement, it is
nevertheless evident that these have been subjected to a certain
editorial revision, and that literary quality has been considered.
Aside from the interest evoked by the personality of the writer, and
the events of his narrative, the work throws much light upon
wilderness travel, the topography and scenery of the Rocky Mountain
region, and above all upon the habits and customs, modes of thought,
social standards, and religious conceptions of the important tribes of
the interior.
After the present series of reprints had been planned for, and
announced in a detailed prospectus, there was issued from the press of
Francis P. Harper of New York the important volumes edited by Major H.
M. Chittenden and Alfred Talbot Richardson, entitled _Life, Letters,
and Travels of Father Pierre Jean de Smet, S. J., 1801-73_. This
publication contains much new material, derived from manuscript
sources, which has been interwoven in chronological order with the
missionary's several books; and to it all have been added an adequate
biography and bibliography of De Smet. This scholarly work has been of
great service to us in preparing for accurate reprint the original
editions of the only two of Father de Smet's publications that fall
within the chronological field of our series.
In the preparation for the press of Flagg's _The Far West_, the Editor
has had the assistance of Clarence Cory Crawford, A. M.; in editing
Father de Smet's _Letters and Sketches_, his assistant has been Louise
Phelps Kellogg, Ph.D.
R. G. T.
MADISON, WIS., April, 1906.
PART I OF FLAGG'S THE FAR WEST, 1836-1837
Reprint of Volume I, and chapters xxiii-xxxii of Volume II, of
original edition: New York, 1838
[Illustration: MAP OF OREGON.]
THE FAR WEST:
OR,
A TOUR BEYOND THE MOUNTAINS.
EMBRACING
OUTLINES OF WESTERN LIFE AND SCENERY; SKETCHES
OF THE PRAIRIES, RIVERS, ANCIENT MOUNDS, EARLY
SETTLEMENTS OF THE FRENCH, ETC., ETC.
"If thou be a severe, sour-complexioned man, then I here
disallow thee to be a competent judge."--IZAAK WALTON.
"I pity the man who can travel from Dan to Beersheba, and
cry, ''Tis all barren.'"--STERNE.
"Chacun a son stile; le mien, comme vous voyez, n'est pas
laconique."--ME. DE SEVIGNE.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
NEW-YORK:
PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS
NO. 82 CLIFF-STREET.
1838.
[Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1838, by
HARPER & BROTHERS,
in the Clerk's Office of the Southern District of New-York.]
TO ONE--
AT WHOSE SOLICITATION THESE VOLUMES WERE COMMENCED, AND
WITH WHOSE ENCOURAGEMENT THEY HAVE BEEN COMPLETED--
TO MY SISTER LUCY
ARE THEY AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED.
TO THE READER
"He that writes
Or makes a feast, more certainly invites
His judges than his friends; there's not a guest
But will find something wanting or ill dress'd."
In laying before the majesty of the public a couple of volumes like
the present, it has become customary for the author to disclaim in his
preface all original design of _perpetrating a book_, as if there were
even more than the admitted _quantum_ of sinfulness in the act.
Whether or not such disavowals now-a-day receive all the credence they
merit, is not for the writer to say; and whether, were the prefatory
asseveration, as in the present case, diametrically opposed to what it
often is, the reception would be different, is even more difficult to
predict. The articles imbodied in the following volumes were, a
portion of them, in their original, hasty production, _designed_ for
the press; yet the author unites in the disavowal of his predecessors
of all intention at that time of perpetrating _a book_.
In the early summer of '36, when about starting upon a ramble over the
prairies of the "Far West," in hope of renovating the energies of a
shattered constitution, a request was made of the writer, by the
distinguished editor of the Louisville Journal, to contribute {vi} to
the columns of that periodical whatever, in the course of his
pilgrimage, might be deemed of sufficient interest.[1] A series of
articles soon after made their appearance in that paper under the
title, "_Sketches of a Traveller_." They were, as their name purports,
mere sketches from a traveller's _portfeuille_, hastily thrown upon
paper whenever time, place, or opportunity rendered convenient; in the
steamboat saloon, the inn bar-room, the log-cabin of the wilderness,
or upon the venerable mound of the Western prairie. With such favour
were these hasty productions received, and so extensively were they
circulated, that the writer, on returning from his pilgrimage to "the
shrine of health," was induced, by the solicitations of partial
friends, to enter at his leisure upon the preparation for the press of
a mass of MSS. of a similar character, written at the time, which had
never been published; a thorough revision and enlargement of that
which had appeared, united with _this_, it was thought, would furnish
a passable volume or two upon the "Far West." Two years of residence
in the West have since passed away; and the arrangement for the press
of the fugitive sheets of a wanderer's sketch-book would not yet,
perhaps, have been deemed of sufficient importance to warrant the
necessary labour, had he not been daily reminded that his productions,
whatever their merit, were already public property so far as could be
the case, and at the mercy of every one who thought proper to assume
paternity. "Forbearance ceased to be longer a virtue," and the result
is now before the {vii} reader. But, while alluding to that aid which
his labours may have rendered to others, the author would not fail
fully to acknowledge his own indebtedness to those distinguished
writers upon the West who have preceded him. To Peck, Hall, Flint,
Wetmore, and to others, his acknowledgments are due and are
respectfully tendered.[2]
In extenuation of the circumstance that some portions of these
volumes have already appeared, though in a crude state, before the
public, the author has but to suggest that many works, with which the
present will not presume to compare, have made their debut on the
unimposing pages of a periodical. Not to dwell upon the writings of
Addison and Johnson, and other classics of British literature, several
of Bulwer's most polished productions, the elaborate Essays of Elia,
Wirt's British Spy, Hazlitt's Philosophical Reviews, Coleridge's
Friend, most of the novels of Captain Marryatt and Theodore Hook, and
many of the most elegant works of the day, have been prepared for the
pages of a magazine.
And now, with no slight misgiving, does the author commit his
firstborn bantling to the tender mercies of an impartial public.
Criticism he does not deprecate, still less does he brave it; and
farther than either is he from soliciting undue favour. Yet to the
_reader_, as he grasps him by the hand in parting, would he commit his
book, with the quaint injunction of a distinguished but eccentric old
English writer upon an occasion somewhat similar:
"I exhort all people, gentle and simple, men, {viii} women, and
children, to buy, to read, to extol these labours of mine. Let them
not fear to defend every article; for I will bear them harmless. I
have arguments good store, and can easily confute, either logically,
theologically, or metaphysically, all those who oppose me."
E. F.
New-York, Oct., 1838.
CONTENTS
I
The Western Steamboat-landing--Western Punctuality--An
Accident--Human Suffering--Desolation of Bereavement--
A Contrast--Sublimity--An Ohio Freshet--View of Louisville--
Early History--The Ohio Falls--Corn Island--The Last Conflict 43
II
The Early Morn--"Sleep no more!"--The Ohio--"_La Belle
Rivière!_"--Ohio Islands--A Cluster at Sunset--"Ohio Hills"--
The Emigrant's Clearing--Moonlight on the Ohio--A Sunset-scene--
The Peaceful Ohio--The Gigantic Forest-trees--The Bottom-lands--
Obstructions to Navigation--Classification--Removal--Dimensions
of Snags--Peculiar difficulties on the Ohio--Leaning Trees--
Stone Dams--A Full Survey--The Result 52
III
An Arrest--Drift-wood--Ohio Scenery--Primitive River-craft--
Early Scenes on the Western Waters--The Boatmen--Life and
Character--_Annus Mirabilis_--The Steam-engine in the West--
The Freshet--The Comet--The Earthquakes--The first Steamboat--
The _Pinelore_--The Steam-engine--Prophecy of Darwin--Results--
Sublimity--Villages--A new Geology--Rivers--Islands--Forests--
The Wabash and its Banks--New Harmony--Site--Settlement--
Edifices--Gardens--Owen and the "Social System"--Theory and
Practice--Mental Independence--Dissension--Abandonment--
Shawneetown--Early History--Settlement--Advancement--Site--
United States' Salines--Ancient Pottery 59
IV
Geology of the Mississippi Valley--Ohio Cliffs--The Iron
Coffin--"Battery Rock"--"Rock-Inn-Cave"--Origin of Name--{x}
A Visit--Outlines and Dimensions--The Indian _Manito_--Island
opposite--The Freebooters--"The Outlaw"--The Counterfeiters--
Their Fate--Ford and his Gang--Retributive Justice--"Tower
Rock"--The Tradition--The Cave of Hieroglyphics--Islands--
Golconda--The Cumberland--Aaron Burr's Island--Paducah--Name--
Ruins of Fort Massac--The Legend--Wilkinsonville--The "Grand
Chain"--Caledonia--A Storm--Sunset--"The Meeting of the
Waters"--Characteristics of the Rivers--"Willow Point"--The
place of Meeting--Disappointment--A Utopian City--America 70
V
Darkness Visible--The "Father of Waters"--The Power of Steam--
The Current--"English Island"--The Sabbath--A Blessed
Appointment--Its Quietude--The New-England Emigrant--His
Privations--Sorrows--Loneliness--"The Light of Home"--Cape
Girardeau--Site--Settlement--Effects of the Earthquakes--
A severer Shock--Staples of Trade--The Spiral Water-wheels--
Their Utility--"Tyowapity Bottom"--Potter's Clay--
A Manufactory--_Rivière au Vase_--Salines--Coal-beds--
"Fountain Bluff"--The "Grand Tower"--Parapet of Limestone--
Ancient Cataract--The Cliffs--Divinity of the Boatmen--
The "Devil's Oven"--The "Tea-table"--Volcanic and Diluvial
Action--The Torrent overcome--A Race--Breathless Interest--
The Engineer--The Fireman--Last of the "Horse and Alligator"
species--"Charon"--A Triumph--A Defeat 82
VI
Navigation of the Mississippi--The First Appropriation--
Improvements of Capt. Shreve--Mississippi and Ohio Scenery
contrasted--Alluvial Deposites--Ste. Genevieve--Origin--Site--
The _Haunted_ Ruin--The old "Common Field"--Inundation of
'85--Minerals--Quarries--Sand-caves--Fountains--Salines--
Indians--Ancient Remains--View of Ste. Genevieve--Landing--
Outrage of a Steamer--Indignation--The Remedy--A Snag and a
Scene--An Interview with "Charon"--Fort Chartres 93
{xi} VII
The Hills! the Hills!--Trosachs of Loch Katrine--Alluvial
Action--Bluffs of Selma and Herculaneum--Shot-towers--Natural
Curiosities--The "Cornice Cliffs"--The Merrimac--Its
Riches--Ancient Lilliputian Graves--Mammoth Remains--Jefferson
Barracks--Carondelet--Cahokia--U. S. Arsenal--St. Louis in the
Distance--Fine View--Uproar of the Landing--The Eternal
River--Character--Features--Sublimity--Statistics--The Lower
Mississippi--"Bends"--"Cut-offs"--Land-slips--The Pioneer Cabin 102
VIII
"Once more upon the Waters!"--"Uncle Sam's Tooth-pullers"--Mode
of eradicating a Snag--River Suburbs of North St. Louis--Spanish
Fortifications--The Waterworks--The Ancient Mounds--Country
Seats--The Confluence--Charlevoix's Description--A Variance--
A View--The Upper Mississippi--Alton in distant View--The
Penitentiary and Churches--"Pomp and Circumstance"--The City
of Alton--Advantages--Objections--Improvements--Prospects--
Liberality--Railroads--Alton Bluffs--"Departing Day"--The
Piasa Cliffs--Moonlight Scene 113
IX
The _Coleur de Rose_--The Piasa--The Indian Legend--Caverns--
Human Remains--The Illinois--Characteristic Features--The
Canal--The Banks and Bottoms--Poisonous Exhalations--Scenes on
the Illinois--The "Military Bounty Tract"--_Cape au Gris_--Old
French Village--River Villages--Pekin--"An Unco Sight"--Genius
of the Bacchanal--A "Monkey Show"--Nomenclature of Towns--The
Indian Names 122
X
An Emigrant Farmer--An Enthusiast--Peoria--The Old Village and
the New--Early History--Exile of the French--Fort Clarke--Indian
Hostilities--The Modern Village--Site--Advantages--Prospects--
Lake _Pinatahwee_--Fish--The Bluffs and Prairie--A Military
Spectacle--The "Helen Mar"--Horrors of Steam!--A Bivouac--The
Dragoon Corps--Military {xii} Courtesy--"Starved Rock"--The
Legend--Remains--Shells--Intrenchments--Music--The Moonlight
Serenade--A Reminiscence 132
XI
Delay--"A Horse!"--Early French Immigration in the West--The
Villages of the Wilderness--St. Louis--Venerable Aspect--Site
of the City--A French Village City--South St. Louis--The Old
Chateaux--The Founding of the City--The Footprints in the Rock--
The First House--Name of City--Decease of the Founders--Early
Annals--Administration of St. Ange--The Common Field--Cession
and Recession--"_L'Annee du Grand Coup_"--"_L'Annee des Grandes
Eaux_"--Keel-boat Commerce--The Robbers Culbert and Magilbray--
"_L'Annee des Bateaux_"--The First Steamboat at St. Louis--
Wonder of the Indians--Opposition to Improvement--Plan of St.
Louis--A View--Spanish Fortifications--The Ancient Mounds--
Position--Number--Magnitude--Outlines--Arrangement--Character--
Neglect--Moral Interest--Origin--The Argument of Analogy 142
XII
View from the "Big Mound" at St. Louis--The Sand-bar--The
Remedy--The "Floating Dry-dock"--The Western Suburbs--Country
Seats--Game--Lakes--Public Edifices--Catholic Religion--
"Cathedral of St. Luke"--Site--Dimensions--Peal of Bells--
Porch--The Interior--Columns--Window Transparencies--The
Effect--The Sanctuary--Galleries--Altar-piece--Altar and
Tabernacle--Chapels--Paintings--Lower Chapel--St. Louis
University--Medical School--The Chapel--Paintings--Library--
Ponderous Volumes--Philosophical Apparatus--The Pupils 160
XIII
An Excursion of Pleasure--A fine Afternoon--Our Party--The
Bridal Pair--South St. Louis--Advantages for Manufactures--
Quarries--Farmhouses--The "Eagle Powder-works"--Explosion--
The Bride--A Steeple-chase--A Descent--The Arsenal--Grounds--
Structures--Esplanade--Ordnance--Warlike Aspect--Carondelet--
Sleepy-Hollow--River-reach {xiii}--Time Departed--Inhabitants--
Structures--Gardens--Orchards--_Cabarets_--The Catholic
Church--Altar-piece--Paintings--Missal--Crucifix--Evergreens--
Deaf and Dumb Asylum--Distrust of Villagers--Jefferson
Barracks--Site--Extent--Buildings--View from the Terrace--The
Burial Grounds--The Cholera--Design of the Barracks--_Corps
de Reserve_--A remarkable Cavern--Our Guide--Situation of
Cave--Entrance--Exploration--Grotesque Shapes--A Foot--Boat--
Coffin in Stone--The Bats--_Rivière des Pères_--An Ancient
Cemetery--Antiquities--The Jesuit Settlers--Sulphur Spring--
A Cavern--A Ruin 170
XIV
City and Country at Midsummer--Cosmorama of St. Louis--The American
Bottom--Cahokia Creek--A Pecan Grove--The Ancient Mounds--First
Group--Number--Resemblance--Magnitude--Outline--Railroad to the
Bluffs--Pittsburg--The Prairie--Landscape--The "Cantine
Mounds"--"Monk Hill"--First Impressions--Origin--The
Argument--Workmanship of Man--Reflections suggested--Our
Memory--The Craving of the Heart--The Pyramid-builders--The
Mound-builders--A hopeless Aspiration--"Keep the Soul embalmed" 180
XV
The Antiquity of Monk Mound--Primitive Magnitude--Fortifications
of the Revolution--The Ancient Population--Two Cities--Design
of the Mounds--The "Cantine Mounds"--Number--Size--Position--
Outline--Features of Monk Mound--View from the Summit--Prairie--
Lakes--Groves--Bluffs--Cantine Creek--St. Louis in distance--
Neighbouring Earth-heaps--The Well--Interior of the Mound--
The Monastery of La Trappe--Abbé Armand Rance--The Vows--A
Quotation--Reign of Terror--Immigration of the Trappists--
Their Buildings--Their Discipline--Diet--Health--Skill--Asylum
Seminary--Worldly Charity--Palliation--A strange Spectacle 187
{xiv} XVI
Edwardsville--Site and Buildings--Land Mania--A "Down-east"
Incident--Human Nature--The first Land Speculator--Castor-oil
Manufacture--Outlines of Edwardsville--Collinsville--Route to
Alton--Sultriness--The Alton Bluffs--A Panorama--Earth-heaps--
Indian Graves--Upper Alton--Shurtliff College--_Baptized_
Intelligence--Knowledge not Conservative--Greece--Rome--
France--England--The Remedy 197
XVII
The Traveller's Whereabout--The Prairie in a Mist--Sense of
Loneliness--The Backwoods Farmhouse--Structure--Outline--
Western Roads--A New-England Emigrant--The "Barrens"--Origin
of Name--Soil--The "Sink-holes"--The Springs--Similar in
Missouri and Florida--"Fount of Rejuvenescence"--Ponce de
Leon--"Sappho's Fount"--The Prairies--First View--The Grass--
Flowers--Island-groves--A Contrast--Prairie-farms--A Buck
and Doe--A Kentucky Pioneer--Events of Fifty Years--The
"Order Tramontane"--Expedition of Gov. Spotswood--The Change--
A Thunderstorm on the Prairies--"A Sharer in the Tempest"--
Discretionary Valour 207
XVIII
Morning after the Storm--The Landscape--The sprinkled Groves--
Nature in unison with the Heart--The Impress of Design--
Contemplation of grand Objects elevates--Nature and the Savage--
Nature and Nature's God--Earth praises God--Indifference and
Ingratitude of Man--"All is very Good"--Influence of Scenery
upon Character--The Swiss Mountaineer--Bold Scenery most
Impressive--Freedom among the Alps--Caucasus--Himmalaya--
_Something_ to Love--Carlinville--"Grand Menagerie"--A Scene--
The Soil--The Inn--Macoupin Creek--Origin of Name--A Vegetable--
An Indian Luxury--Carlinville--Its Advantages and Prospects--A
"Fourth-of-July" Oration--The thronging Multitudes--The huge
Cart--A Thunder-storm--A Log-cabin--Women and Children--Outlines
of the Cabin--The Roof and Floor--The Furniture and Dinner-pot--
A Choice of Evils--The _Pathless_ Prairie 219
{xv} XIX
Ponce de Leon--The Fount of Youth--The "Land of Flowers"--
Ferdinand de Soto--"_El Padre de los Aguas_"--The Canadian
Voyageurs--"_La Belle Rivière_"--Sieur La Salle--"A Terrestrial
Paradise"--Daniel Boone--"Old Kentucke"--"The Pilgrim from the
North"--Sabbath Morning--The Landscape--The Grass and
Prairie-flower--Nature at Rest--Sabbath on the Prairie--Alluvial
Aspect of the Prairies--The Soil--Lakes--Fish--The Annual
Fires--Origin--A Mode of Hunting--Captain Smith--Mungo Park--
Hillsborough--Major-domo of the Hostelrie--His Garb and
Proportions--The Presbyterian Church--_Picturesqueness_--The
"_Luteran_ Church"--Practical Utility--The Dark Minister--
A Mistake--The Patriotic Dutchman--A Veritable Publican--
Prospects of Hillsborough--A Theological Seminary--Route to
Vandalia--The Political Sabbath 230
XX
The Race of Vagabonds--"Yankee Enterprise"--The Virginia
Emigrant--The Western Creeks and Bridges--An Adventure in
Botany--Unnatural Rebellion--Christian Retaliation--Vandalia--
"First Impressions"--The Patriotic Bacchanal--The High-priest--
A Distinction Unmerited--The Cause--Vandalia--Situation--
Public Edifices--Square--Church--Bank--Land-office--"Illinois
Magazine"--Tardy Growth--Removal of Government--Adventures of
the First Legislators--The Northern Frontier--Magic of Sixteen
Years--Route to Carlisle--A Buck and Doe--An old Hunter--
"Hurricane Bottom"--Night on the Prairies--The Emigrant's
Bivouac--The Prairie-grass--Carlisle--Site--Advantages--
Growth--"Mound Farm" 238
XXI
The Love of Nature--Its Delights--The Wanderer's Reflections--
The Magic Hour--A Sunset on the Prairies--"The Sunny Italy"--
The Prairie Sunset--Route to Lebanon--Silver Creek--Origin of
Name--The "Looking-glass Prairie"--The Methodist Village--
Farms--Country Seats--Maize-fields--Herds--M'Kendreean College--
"The Seminary!"--Route to Belleville--The Force of Circumstance--
A Contrast--Public {xvi} Buildings--A lingering Look--Route to
St. Louis--The French Village--The Coal Bluffs--Discovery of
Coal--St. Clair County--Home of Clouds--Realm of Thunder--San
Louis 248
XXII
Single Blessedness--Text and Comment--_En Route_--North St.
Louis--A Delightful Drive--A Delightful Farm-cottage--The
Catholic University--A Stately Villa--Belle Fontaine--A Town
plat--A View of the Confluence--The _Human Tooth_--The Hamlet
of Florissant--Former Name--Site--Buildings--Church--Seminary--
_Tonish_--_Owen's Station_--Scenery upon the Route--
_La Charbonnière_--The Missouri Bottom--The Forest-Colonnade--
The Missouri--Its Sublimity--Indian Names--Its Turbid
Character--Cause--An Inexplicable Phenomenon--Theories--
Navigation Dangerous--Floods of the Missouri--Alluvions--
Sources of the Missouri and Columbia--Their Destinies--Human
Life--The Ocean of Eternity--Gates of the Rocky Mountains--
Sublimity--A Cataract--The Main Stream--Claims stated 257
{iii} XXIII
View of St. Charles and the Missouri--The Bluffs--"A stern round
Tower"--Its Origin--The Windmill--A sunset Stroll--Rural Sights
and Sounds--The River and Forest--The Duellist's Grave--The Hour
and Scene--_Requiescat_--Reflections--Duelling--A sad Event--
Young B----.--His Request--His Monument--"Blood Island"--Its
Scenes and Annals--A visit to "_Les Mamelles_"--The Forest-path--
Its Obscurity--Outlines of the Bluffs--Derivation of Name--
Position--Resemblance--The Missouri Bluffs--View from The
Mamelle--The Missouri Bottom--The Mamelle Prairie--The distant
Cliffs and Confluences--Extent of Plain--Alluvial Origin--
Lakes--Bed of the Rivers--An ancient Deposite 268
XXIV
St. Charles--Its Origin--Peculiarities--Early Name--Spanish
Rule--Heterogeneous Population--Germans--The Wizard Spell--
American Enterprise--Site of the Village--Prospects--The
Baltimore Settlement--Catholic Religion and Institutions--
"St. Charles College"--The Race of Hunters--A Specimen--The
Buffalo--Indian Atrocities--The "Rangers"--Daniel Boone--
"Too Crowded!"--The "Regulators"--Boone's Lick--His Decease--
His Memory--The Missouri Indians--The Stoccade Fort--Adventure
of a Naturalist--Route from St. Charles--A Prairie without a
Path--Enormous Vegetation--The Cliffs--The Column of Smoke--
Perplexity--A delightful Scene--A rare Flower--The Prairie
Flora in Spring--In Summer--In Autumn--The Traveller loiters 276
{iv} XXV
Novel Feature of the Mamelle Prairie--A Footpath--An old French
Village--Bewilderment--Mystery--A Guide--_Portage des Sioux_--
Secluded Site--Advantages--"Common Field"--Garden-plats--A brick
Edifice--A _courteous_ Welcome--An _amiable_ Personage--History
of the Village--Origin--Earthquakes--Name--An Indian Legend--
Teatable Talk--_Patois_ of the French Villages--An Incident!--
A Scene!--A civil Hint--A Night of Beauty--The Flush of Dawn--
The weltering Prairie--The Forest--The river Scene--The
Ferry-horn--Delay--Locale of Grafton--Advantages and Prospects 288
XXVI
Cave in the Grafton Cliffs--Outlines--Human Remains--_Desecration_
of the Coopers--View from the Cave's Mouth--The Bluffs--Inclined
Planes--The Railroad--A Stone-heap--A beautiful Custom--Veneration
for the Dead--The Widow of Florida--The Canadian Mother--The
Orientals--An extensive View--The River--The Prairie--The Emigrant
Farm--The Illinois--A _tortuous_ Route--Macoupin Settlement--
Carrolton--Outlines of a Western Village--Religious Diversity--An
agricultural Village--Whitehall--The Emigrant Family _en route_--
A Western Village--Its rapid Growth--Fit Parallels--Manchester--
The Scarcity of Timber not an insurmountable Obstacle--
Substitutes--Morgan County--Prospects--Soil of the Prairies--
Adaptation to _coarse_ Grains--Rapid Population--New-England
Immigrants--The Changes of a few Years--Environs of
Jacksonville--Buildings of "Illinois College"--The Public Square 295
XXVII
Remark of Horace Walpole--A Word from the Author--Jacksonville--
Its rapid Advancement--Its Site--Suburbs--Public Square--
Radiating Streets--The Congregational Church--The Pulpit--A
pleasant Incident--The "New-England of the West"--Immigrant
Colonies--"Illinois College"--The Site--Buildings--"Manual
Labour System"--The Founders--Their Success--Their Fame--
Jacksonville--Attractions for the Northern Emigrant--New England
Character--A faithful {v} Transcript--"The Pilgrim Fathers"--
The "Stump"--Mr. W. and his Speech--Curious Surmisings--Internal
Improvements--Route to Springfield--A "Baptist Circuit-rider"--
An Evening Prairie-rider 305
XXVIII
The Nature of Man--Facilities for its Study--A Pilgrimage of
Observation--Dissection of Character, Physical and Moral--The
young Student--The brighter Features of Humanity--An unwitting
Episode--Our World a _Ruin_--Sunrise on the Prairies--
Springfield--Its Location--Advantages--Structures--Society--
Prospects--The Sangamon River--Its Navigation--Bottom-lands--
Aged Forests--Cathedral Pomp--A splendid Phenomenon--Civic
Honours--"_Sic itur ad astra!_"--A Morning Ride--"Demands of
Appetite"--"Old Jim"--A tipsy Host--A revolting Exhibition--
Jacob's Cattle and the Prairie-wolves--An Illinois Table--
The Staples--A Tea Story--Poultry and Bacon--_Chicken Fixens_
and _Common Doins_--An Object of Commiseration 315
XXIX
The Burial-ground--A _holy_ Spot--Our culpable Indifference--
Cemeteries in our Land--A sad Reflection--The last Petition--
Reverence for the Departed--Civilized and Savage Nations--The
last Resting-place--Worthy of Thought--A touching Expression
of the Heart--FRANKLIN--The Object of Admiration and _Love_--
The Burial-ground of Decatur--The dying Emigrant--The Spirit's
Sympathy--A soothing Reflection to Friends--The "Grand Prairie"--
The "Lost Rocks"--Decatur--Site and Prospects--A sunset Scene--
The Prairie by Moonlight--The Log-cabin--The Exotic of the
Prairie--The Heart--The Thank-offering--The Pre-emption Right--
The Mormonites--Their Customs--Millennial Anticipations--The
Angelic Visitant--The _dénouément_--The Miracle!--The System
of "New Light"--Its Rise and Fall--Aberrations of the Mind--
A melancholy Reflection--Absurdity of Mormonism 325
XXX
A wild Night--An Illusion--Sleeplessness--Loneliness--A
Storm-wind on the Prairies--A magnificent Scene--Beauty of
{vi} the lesser Prairies--Nature's _chef d'oeuvre_--Loveliness
lost in Grandeur--Waves of the Prairie--Ravines--Light and
Shade--"Alone, alone, all, all alone!"--Origin of the Prairie--
Argument for _Natural_ Origin--Similar Plains--Derivation of
"_Prairie_"--Absence of Trees accounted for--The _Diluvial_
Origin--Prairie Phenomena explained--The Autumnal Fires--An
Exception--The Prairie _sui generis_--No Identity with other
Plains--A Bed of the Ocean--A new Hypothesis--Extent of
Prairie-surface--Characteristic Carelessness--Hunger and
Thirst--A tedious Jaunt--Horrible Suggestions!--Land ho!--
A Log-cabin--Hog and Honey 338
XXXI
Cis-atlantic Character--Avarice--Curiosity--A grand Propellant--
A Concomitant and Element of Mental Vigour--An Anglo-American
Characteristic--Inspection and Supervision--"Uncle Bill"--The
Quintessence of Inquisitiveness--A Fault "on Virtue's Side"--
The People of Illinois--A Hunting Ramble--A Shot--_Tempis
fugit_--Shelbyville--Dame Justice _in Terrorem_--A Sulphur
Spring--The Inn Register--Chill Atmosphere of the Forest--
Contrast on the Prairie--The "Green-head" Prairie-fly--Effect
upon a Horse--Numerous in '35--The "Horse-guard"--The _Modus
Bellandi_--_Cold Spring_--A _presuming_ Host--Musty Politics--
The Robin Redbreast--Ornithology of the West--The Turtle-dove--
Pathos of her Note--Paley's Remark--Eloquence of the
Forest-bird--A Mormonite, _Zion_ward--A forensic Confabulation--
Mormonism Developed--The seduced Pedagogue--_Mount Zion_ Stock--
The Grand Tabernacle--Smith and Rigdom--The Bank--The Temple--
The School--Appearance of Smith--Of Rigdom--Their Disciples--
The National Road--Its Progress--Structure--_Terminus_--Its
enormous Character--A Contrast--"Shooting a Beeve"--The
Regulations--Salem--A New-England Seaport--The Location--The
Village Singing-school--_The Major_ 348
XXXII
Rest after Exertion--A Purpose--"Mine Ease in mine Inn"--
The "Thread of Discourse"--A Thunder-gust--Its Approach and
Departure--A Bolt--A rifted Elm--An impressive {vii} Scene--
Gray's _Bard_--Mount Vernon--Courthouse--Site--Medicinal
Water--A misty Morning--A _blind_ Route--"Muddy Prairie"--
Wild Turkeys--Something Diabolical!--The _direct_ Route--
A vexatious Incident--The unerring Guide--A _Tug_ for a
_Fixen_--An evening Ride--Pinkneyville--Outlines and
Requisites--The blood-red Jail--The _Traveller's Inn_--
"'Tis true, and Pity 'tis"--A "Soul in Purgatory"--An
_unutterable_ Ill--_Incomparable_--An unpitied and
unenviable Situation--A laughable Bewilderment--Host and
Hostess--The Mischief of a Smile--A Retaliation 362
THE FAR WEST
[PART I]
I
"I do remember me, that, in my youth,
When I was wandering--"
MANFRED.
It was a bright morning in the early days of "leafy June." Many a
month had seen me a wanderer from distant New-England; and now I found
myself "once more upon the waters," embarked for a pilgrimage over the
broad prairie-plains of the sunset West. A drizzly, miserable rain had
for some days been hovering, with proverbial pertinacity, over the
devoted "City of the Falls," and still, at intervals, came lazily
pattering down from the sunlighted clouds, reminding one of a hoiden
girl smiling through a shower of April tear-drops, while the quay
continued to exhibit all that wild uproar and tumult, "confusion worse
confounded," which characterizes the steamboat commerce of the Western
Valley. The landing at the time was thronged with steamers, and yet
the incessant "boom, boom, boom," of the high-pressure engines, the
shrill hiss of scalding steam, and the fitful port-song of the negro
firemen rising ever and anon upon the breeze, gave notice of a
constant {14} augmentation to the number. Some, too, were getting
under way, and their lower _guards_ were thronged by emigrants with
their household and agricultural utensils. Drays were rattling hither
and thither over the rough pavement; Irish porters were cracking their
whips and roaring forth alternate staves of blasphemy and song; clerks
hurrying to and fro, with fluttering note-books, in all the fancied
dignity of "brief authority;" hackney-coaches dashing down to the
water's edge, apparently with no motive to the nervous man but noise;
while at intervals, as if to fill up the pauses of the Babel, some
incontinent steamer would hurl forth from the valves of her
overcharged boilers one of those deafening, terrible blasts, echoing
and re-echoing along the river-banks, and streets, and among the lofty
buildings, till the very welkin rang again.
To one who has never visited the public wharves of the great cities of
the West, it is no trivial task to convey an adequate idea of the
spectacle they present. The commerce of the Eastern seaports and that
of the Western Valley are utterly dissimilar; not more in the staples
of intercourse than in the mode in which it is conducted; and, were
one desirous of exhibiting to a friend from the Atlantic shore a
picture of the prominent features which characterize commercial
proceedings upon the Western waters, or, indeed, of Western character
in its general outline, at a _coup d'oeil_, he could do no better
than to place him in the wild uproar of the steamboat quay. Amid the
"crowd, the hum, {15} the shock" of such a scene stands out Western
peculiarity in all its stern proportion.
Steamers on the great waters of the West are well known to indulge no
violently conscientious scruples upon the subject of punctuality, and
a solitary exception at our behest, or in our humble behalf, was, to
be sure, not an event to be counted on. "There's dignity in being
waited for;" hour after hour, therefore, still found us and left us
amid the untold scenes and sounds of the public landing. It is true,
and to the unending honour of all concerned be it recorded, very true
it is our doughty steamer ever and anon would puff and blow like a
porpoise or a narwhal; and then would she swelter from every pore and
quiver in every limb with the ponderous labouring of her huge
enginery, and the steam would shrilly whistle and shriek like a spirit
in its confinement, till at length she united her whirlwind voice to
the general roar around; and all this indicated, indubitably, an
intention to be off and away; but a knowing one was he who could
determine the _when_.
Among the causes of our wearisome detention was one of a nature too
melancholy, too painfully interesting lightly to be alluded to.
Endeavouring to while away the tedium of delay, I was pacing leisurely
back and forth upon the _guard_, surveying the lovely scenery of the
opposite shore, and the neat little houses of the village sprinkled
upon the plain beyond, when a wild, piercing shriek struck upon my
ear. I was hurrying immediately forward to the spot whence it seemed
to proceed, {16} when I was intercepted by some of our boat's crew
bearing a mangled body. It was that of our second engineer, a fine,
laughing young fellow, who had been terribly injured by becoming
entangled with the flywheel of the machinery while in motion. He was
laid upon the passage floor. I stood at his head; and never, I think,
shall I forget those convulsed and agonized features. His countenance
was ghastly and livid; beaded globules of cold sweat started out
incessantly upon his pale brow; and, in the paroxysms of pain, his
dark eye would flash, his nostril dilate, and his lips quiver so as to
expose the teeth gnashing in a fearful manner; while a muttered
execration, dying away from exhaustion, caused us all to shudder. And
then that wild despairing roll of the eyeball in its socket as the
miserable man would glance hurriedly around upon the countenances of
the bystanders, imploring them, in utter helplessness, to lend him
relief. Ah! it is a fearful thing to look upon these strivings of
humanity in the iron grasp of a power it may in vain resist! From the
quantity of blood thrown off, the oppressive fulness of the chest, and
the difficult respiration, some serious pulmonary injury had evidently
been sustained; while a splintered clavicle and limbs shockingly
shattered racked the poor sufferer with anguish inexpressible. It was
evident he believed himself seriously injured, for at times he would
fling out his arms, beseeching those around him to "hold him back," as
if even then he perceived the icy grasp of the death angel creeping
over his frame.
{17} Perhaps I have devoted more words to the detail of this
melancholy incident than would otherwise have been the case, on
account of the interest which some circumstances in the sufferer's
history, subsequently received from the captain of our steamer,
inspired.
"Frank, poor fellow," said the captain, "was a native of Ohio, the son
of a lone woman, a widow. He was all her hope, and to his exertions
she was indebted for a humble support."
Here, then, were circumstances to touch the sympathies of any heart
possessed of but a tithe of the nobleness of our nature; and I could
not but reflect, as they were recounted, how like the breath of
desolation the first intelligence of her son's fearful end must sweep
over the spirit of this lonely widow; for, like the wretched
Constance, she can "never, never behold him more."[3]
"Her life, her joy, her food, her all the world!
Her widow-comfort, and her sorrow's cure!"
While indulging in these sad reflections a gay burst of music arrested
my attention; and, looking up, I perceived the packet-boat "Lady
Marshall" dropping from her mooring at the quay, her decks swarming
with passengers, and under high press of steam, holding her bold
course against the current, while the merry dashing of the wheels,
mingling with the wild clang of martial music, imparted an air almost
of romance to the scene. How strangely did this contrast with that
misery from which my eye had just turned!
There are few objects more truly grand--I had {18} almost said
sublime--than a powerful steamer struggling triumphantly with the
rapids of the Western waters. The scene has in it a something of that
power which we feel upon us in viewing a ship under full sail; and, in
some respects, there is more of the sublime in the humbler triumph of
man over the elements than in that more vast. Sublimity is a result,
not merely of massive, extended, unmeasured greatness, but oftener,
and far more impressively, does the sentiment arise from a
_combination_ of vast and powerful objects. The mighty stream rolling
its volumed floods through half a continent, and hurrying onward to
mingle its full tide with the "Father of Waters," is truly sublime;
its resistless power is sublime; the memory of its by-gone scenes, and
the venerable moss-grown forests on its banks, are sublime; and,
lastly, the noble fabric of man's workmanship struggling and groaning
in convulsed, triumphant effort to overcome the resistance offered,
completes a picture which demands not the heaving ocean-waste and the
"oak leviathan" to embellish.
It was not until the afternoon was far advanced that we found
ourselves fairly embarked. A rapid freshet had within a few hours
swollen the tranquil Ohio far beyond its ordinary volume and velocity,
and its turbid waters were rolling onward between the green banks,
bearing on their bosom all the varied spoils of their mountain-home,
and of the rich region through which they had been flowing. The finest
site from which to view the city we found to be the channel of the
Falls upon the Indiana side of the stream, called the _Indian_ {19}
chute, to distinguish it from two others, called the _Middle_ chute
and the _Kentucky_ chute. The prospect from this point is noble,
though the uniformity of the structures, the fewness of the spires,
the unimposing character of the public edifices, and the depression of
the site upon which the city stands, give to it a monotonous, perhaps
a lifeless aspect to the stranger.
It was in the year 1778 that a settlement was first commenced upon the
spot on which the fair city of Louisville now stands.[4] In the early
spring of that year, General George Rodgers Clarke, under authority of
the State of Virginia, descended the Ohio with several hundred men,
with the design of reducing the military posts of Kaskaskia, Cahokia,
and Fort Vincent, then held by British troops. Disembarking upon Corn
Island at the Falls of the Ohio, opposite the present city, land
sufficient for the support of six families, which were left, was
cleared and planted with _corn_. From this circumstance the island
received a name which it yet retains. General Clarke proceeded upon
his expedition, and, in the autumn returning successful, the emigrants
were removed to the main land, and a settlement was commenced where
Louisville now stands. During the few succeeding years, other families
from Virginia settled upon the spot, and in the spring of 1780 seven
stations were formed upon Beargrass Creek,[5] which here empties into
the Mississippi, and Louisville commenced its march to its present
importance.
The view of the city from the Falls, as I have remarked, is not at all
imposing; the view of the {20} Falls from the city, on the contrary,
is one of beauty and romance. They are occasioned by a parapet of
limestone extending quite across the stream, which is here about one
mile in width; and when the water is low the whole chain sparkles with
bubbling foam-bells. When the stream is full the descent is hardly
perceptible but for the increased rapidity of the current, which
varies from ten to fourteen miles an hour.[6] Owing to the height of
the freshet, this was the case at the time when we descended them, and
there was a wild air of romance about the dark rushing waters: and the
green woodlands upon either shore, overshadowed as they were by the
shifting light and shade of the flitting clouds, cast over the scene
a bewitching fascination. "_Corn Island_," with its legendary
associations, rearing its dense clump of foliage as from the depths of
the stream, was not the least beautiful object of the panorama; while
the receding city, with its smoky roofs, its bustling quay, and the
glitter and animation of an extended line of steamers, was alone
necessary to fill up a scene for a limner.[7] And our steamer swept
onward {21} over the rapids, and threaded their maze of beautiful
islands, and passed along the little villages at their foot and the
splendid steamers along their shore, till twilight had faded, and the
dusky mantle of departed day was flung over forest and stream.
_Ohio River._
II
"How beautiful is this visible world!
How glorious in its action and itself!"
MANFRED.
"The woods--oh! solemn are the boundless woods
Of the great Western World when day declines,
And louder sounds the roll of distant floods."
HEMANS.
Long before the dawn on the morning succeeding our departure we were
roused from our rest by the hissing of steam and the rattling of
machinery as our boat moved slowly out from beneath the high banks and
lofty sycamores of the river-side, where she had in safety been moored
for the night, to resume her course. Withdrawing the curtain from the
little rectangular window of my stateroom, the dark shadow of the
forest was slumbering in calm magnificence upon the waters; and
glancing upward my eye, the stars were beaming out in silvery
brightness; while all along the eastern horizon, where
"The gray coursers of the morn
Beat up the light with their bright silver hoofs
And drive it through the sky,"
{22} rested a broad, low zone of clear heaven, proclaiming the coming
of a glorious dawn. The hated clang of the bell-boy was soon after
heard resounding far and wide in querulous and deafening clamour
throughout the cabins, vexing the dull ear of every drowsy man in the
terrible language of Macbeth's evil conscience, "sleep no more!" In a
very desperation of self-defence I arose. The mists of night had not
yet wholly dispersed, and the rack and fog floated quietly upon the
placid bosom of the stream, or ascended in ragged masses from the
dense foliage upon its banks. All this melted gently away like "the
baseless fabric of a vision," and "the beauteous eye of day" burst
forth in splendour, lighting up a scene of unrivalled loveliness.
Much, very much has been written of "the beautiful Ohio;" the pens of
an hundred tourists have sketched its quiet waters and its venerable
groves; but there is in its noble scenery an ever salient freshness,
which no description, however varied, can exhaust; new beauties leap
forth to the eye of the man of sensibility, and even an humble pen may
not fail to array them in the drapery of their own loveliness. There
are in this beautiful stream features peculiar to itself, which
distinguish it from every other that we have seen or of which we have
read; features which render it truly and emphatically _sui generis_.
It is not "the blue-rushing of the arrowy Rhone," with castled crags
and frowning battlements; it is not the dark-rolling Danube, shadowy
with the legend of departed time, upon whose banks armies have met and
battled; it is not {23} the lordly Hudson, roaming in beauty through
the ever-varying romance of the Catskill Highlands; nor is it the
gentle wave of the soft-flowing Connecticut, seeming almost to sleep
as it glides through the calm, "happy valley" of New-England: but it
is that noble stream, bounding forth, like a young warrior of the
wilderness, in all the joyance of early vigour, from the wild
twin-torrents of the hills; rolling onward through a section of
country the glory of a new world, and over the wooded heights of whose
banks has rushed full many a crimson tide of Indian massacre. Ohio,[8]
"_The River of Blood_," was its fearfully significant name from the
aboriginal native; _La Belle Rivière_ was its euphonious distinction
from the simple Canadian voyageur, whose light pirogue first glided on
its blue bosom. "The Beautiful River!"--it is no misnomer--from its
earliest commencement to the broad _embouchure_ into the turbid
floods of the Mississippi, it unites every combination of scenic
loveliness which even the poet's sublimated fancy could demand.[9] Now
it sweeps along beneath its lofty bluffs in the conscious grandeur of
resistless might; and then its clear, transparent waters glide in
undulating ripples over the shelly bottoms and among the pebbly heaps
of the white-drifted sand-bars, or in the calm magnificence of their
eternal wandering,
"To the gentle woods all night
Sing they a sleepy tune."
From either shore streams of singular beauty and euphonious names come
pouring in their tribute {24} through the deep foliage of the fertile
bottoms; while the swelling, volumed outlines of the banks, piled up
with ponderous verdure rolling and heaving in the river-breeze like
life, recur in such grandeur and softness, and such ever-varying
combinations of beauty, as to destroy every approach to monotonous
effect. From the source of the Ohio to its outlet its waters imbosom
more than an hundred islands, some of such matchless loveliness that
it is worthy of remark that such slight allusion has been made to them
in the numerous pencillings of Ohio scenery. In the fresh, early
summertime, when the deep green of vegetation is in its luxuriance,
they surely constitute the most striking feature of the river. Most of
them are densely wooded to the water's edge; and the wild vines and
underbrush suspended lightly over the waters are mirrored in their
bosom or swept by the current into attitudes most graceful and
picturesque. In some of those stretched-out, endless reaches which are
constantly recurring, they seem bursting up like beautiful _bouquets_
of sprinkled evergreens from the placid stream; rounded and swelling,
as if by the teachings of art, on the blue bosom of the waters. A
cluster of these "isles of light" I well remember, which opened upon
us the eve of the second day of our passage. Two of the group were
exceedingly small, mere points of a deeper shade in the reflecting
azure; while the third, lying between the former, stretched itself far
away in a narrow, well-defined strip of foliage, like a curving gash
in the surface, parallel to the {25} shore; and over the lengthened
vista of the waters gliding between, the giant branches bowed
themselves, and wove their mingled verdure into an immense Gothic
arch, seemingly of interminable extent, but closed at last by a single
speck of crimson skylight beyond. Throughout its whole course the Ohio
is fringed with wooded bluffs; now towering in sublime majesty
hundreds of feet from the bed of the rolling stream, and anon sweeping
inland for miles, and rearing up those eminences so singularly
beautiful, appropriately termed "Ohio hills," while their broad
alluvial plains in the interval betray, by their enormous vegetation,
a fertility exhaustless and unrivalled. Here and there along the green
bluffs is caught a glimpse of the emigrant's low log cabin peeping out
to the eye from the dark foliage, sometimes when miles in the
distance; while the rich maize-fields of the bottoms, the girdled
forest-trees and the lowing kine betray the advance of civilized
existence. But if the scenes of the Ohio are beautiful beneath the
broad glare of the morning sunlight, what shall sketch their
lineaments when the coarser etchings of the picture are mellowed down
by the balmy effulgence of the midnight moon of summer! When her
floods of light are streaming far and wide along the magnificent
forest-tops! When all is still--still! and sky, and earth, and wood,
and stream are hushed as a spirit's breathing! When thought is almost
audible, and memory is busy with the past! When the distant bluffs,
bathed in molten silver, gleam like beacon-lights, and the far-off
vistas of the {26} meandering waters are flashing with the sheen of
their ripples! When you glide through the endless maze, and the bright
islets shift, and vary, and pass away in succession like pictures of
the kaleidoscope before your eye! When imagination is awake and
flinging forth her airy fictions, bodies things unseen, and clothes
reality in loveliness not of earth! When a scene like this is
developed, what shall adequately depict it? Not the pen.
Such, such is the beautiful Ohio in the soft days of early summer; and
though hackneyed may be the theme of its loveliness, yet, as the dying
glories of a Western sunset flung over the landscape the mellow
tenderness of its parting smile, "fading, still fading, as the day was
declining," till night's dusky mantle had wrapped the "woods on shore"
and the quiet stream from the eye, I could not, even at the hazard of
triteness, resist an inclination to fling upon the sheet a few hurried
lineaments of Nature's beautiful creations.
There is not a stream upon the continent which, for the same distance,
rolls onward so calmly, and smoothly, and peacefully as the Ohio.
Danger rarely visits its tranquil bosom, except from the storms of
heaven or the reckless folly of man, and hardly a river in the world
can vie with it in safety, utility, or beauty. Though subject to rapid
and great elevations and depressions, its current is generally
uniform, never furious. The forest-trees which skirt its banks are the
largest in North America, while the variety is endless; several
sycamores were pointed out to us upon the shores from thirty to fifty
feet in circumference. Its alluvial {27} bottoms are broad, deep, and
exhaustlessly fertile; its bluffs are often from three to four hundred
feet in height; its breadth varies from one mile to three, and its
navigation, since the improvements commenced, under the authority of
Congress, by the enterprising Shreve, has become safe and easy.[10]
The classification of obstructions is the following: _snags_, trees
anchored by their roots; fragments of trees of various forms and
magnitude; _wreck-heaps_, consisting of several of these stumps, and
logs, and branches of trees lodged in one place; _rocks_, which have
rolled from the cliffs, and varying from ten to one hundred cubic feet
in size; and _sunken boats_, principally flat-boats laden with coal.
The last remains one of the most serious obstacles to the navigation
of the Ohio. Many steamers have been damaged by striking the wrecks of
the _Baltimore_, the _Roanoke_, the _William Hulburt_,[11] and other
craft, which were themselves snagged; while keel and flat-boats
without number have been lost from the same cause.[12] Several
thousands of the obstacles mentioned have been removed since
improvements were commenced, and accidents from this cause are now
less frequent. Some of the snags torn up from the bed of the stream,
where they have probably for ages been buried, are said to have
exceeded a diameter of six feet at the root, and were upward of an
hundred feet in length. The removal of these obstructions on the Ohio
presents a difficulty and expense not encountered upon the
Mississippi. In the latter stream, the root of the snag, when
eradicated, is deposited in some deep {28} pool or bayou along the
banks, and immediately imbeds itself in alluvial deposite; but on the
Ohio, owing to the nature of its banks in most of its course, there is
no opportunity for such a disposal, and the boatmen are forced to
blast the logs with gunpowder to prevent them from again forming
obstructions. The cutting down and clearing away of all leaning and
falling trees from the banks constitutes an essential feature in the
scheme of improvement; since the facts are well ascertained that trees
seldom plant themselves far from the spot where they fall; and that,
when once under the power of the current, they seldom anchor
themselves and form snags. The policy of removing the leaning and
fallen trees is, therefore, palpable, since, when this is once
thoroughly accomplished, no material for subsequent formation can
exist. The construction of stone dams, by which to concentrate into a
single channel all the waters of the river, where they are divided by
islands, or from other causes are spread over a broad extent, is
another operation now in execution. The dams at "Brown's Island,"[13]
the shoalest point on the Ohio, have been so eminently successful as
fully to establish the efficiency of the plan. Several other works of
a similar character are proposed; a full survey of the stream,
hydrographical and topographical, is recommended; and, when all
improvements are completed, it is believed that the navigation of the
"beautiful Ohio" will answer every purpose of commerce and the
traveller, from its source to its mouth, at the lowest stages of the
water.
_Ohio River._
III
"The sure traveller,
Though he alight sometimes, still goeth on."
HERBERT.
"A RACE--
Now like autumnal leaves before the blast
Wide scattered."
SPRAGUE.
Thump, thump, crash! One hour longer, and I was at length completely
roused from a troublous slumber by our boat coming to a dead stop.
Casting a glance from the window, the bright flashing of moonlight
showed the whole surface of the stream covered with drift-wood, and,
on inquiry, I learned that the branches of an enormous oak, some sixty
feet in length, had become entangled with one of the paddle-wheels of
our steamer, and forbade all advance.
We were soon once more in motion; the morning mists were dispersing,
the sun rose up behind the forests, and his bright beams danced
lightly over the gliding waters. We passed many pleasant little
villages along the banks, and it was delightful to remove from the
noise, and heat, and confusion below to the lofty _hurricane deck_,
and lounge away hour after hour in gazing upon the varied and
beautiful scenes which presented themselves in constant succession to
the eye. Now we were gliding quietly on through the long island {30}
chutes, where the daylight was dim, and the enormous forest-trees
bowed themselves over us, and echoed from their still recesses the
roar of our steam-pipe; then we were sweeping rapidly over the broad
reaches of the stream, miles in extent; again we were winding through
the mazy labyrinth of islets which fleckered the placid surface of the
stream, and from time to time we passed the lonely cabin of the
emigrant beneath the venerable and aged sycamores. Here and there, as
we glided on, we met some relic of those ancient and primitive species
of river-craft which once assumed ascendency over the waters of the
West, but which are now superseded by steam, and are of too infrequent
occurrence not to be objects of peculiar interest. In the early era of
the navigation of the Ohio, the species of craft in use were
numberless, and many of them of a most whimsical and amusing
description. The first was the barge, sometimes of an hundred tons'
burden, which required twenty men to force it up against the current a
distance of six or seven miles a day; next the keel-boat, of smaller
size and lighter structure, yet in use for the purposes of inland
commerce; then the Kentucky flat, or broad-horn of the emigrant; the
enormous ark, in magnitude and proportion approximating to that of the
patriarch; the fairy pirogue of the French voyageur; the birch caïque
of the Indian, and log skiffs, gondolas, and dug-outs of the pioneer
without name or number.[14] But since the introduction of steam upon
the Western waters, most of these unique and primitive contrivances
{31} have disappeared; and with them, too, has gone that singular race
of men who were their navigators. Most of the younger of the settlers,
at this early period of the country, devoted themselves to this
profession. Nor is there any wonder that the mode of life pursued by
these boatmen should have presented irresistible seductions to the
young people along the banks. Fancy one of these huge boats dropping
lazily along with the current past their cabins on a balmy morning in
June. Picture to your imagination the gorgeous foliage; the soft,
delicious temperature of the atmosphere; the deep azure of the sky;
the fertile alluvion, with its stupendous forests and rivers; the
romantic bluffs sleeping mistily in blue distance; the clear waters
rolling calmly adown, with the woodlands outlined in shadow on the
surface; the boat floating leisurely onward, its heterogeneous crew of
all ages dancing to the violin upon the deck, flinging out their merry
salutations among the settlers, who come down to the water's edge to
see the pageant pass, until, at length, it disappears behind a point
of wood, and the boatman's bugle strikes up its note, dying in
distance over the waters; fancy a scene like this, and the wild
bugle-notes echoing and re-echoing along the bluffs and forest shades
of the beautiful Ohio, and decide whether it must not have possessed a
charm of fascination resistless to the youthful mind in these lonely
solitudes. No wonder that the severe toils of agricultural life, in
view of such scenes, should have become tasteless and irksome.[15] The
lives of these {32} boatmen were lawless and dissolute to a proverb.
They frequently stopped at the villages along their course, and passed
the night in scenes of wild revelry and merriment. Their occupation,
more than any other, subjected them to toil, and exposure, and
privation; and, more than any other, it indulged them, for days in
succession, with leisure, and ease, and indolent gratification.
Descending the stream, they floated quietly along without an effort,
but in ascending against the powerful current their life was an
uninterrupted series of toil. The boat, we are told, was propelled by
poles, against which the shoulder was placed and the whole strength
applied; their bodies were naked to the waist, for enjoying the
river-breeze and for moving with facility; and, after the labour of
the day, they swallowed their whiskey and supper, and throwing
themselves upon the deck of the boat, with no other canopy than the
heavens, slumbered soundly on till the morning. Their slang was
peculiar to the race, their humour and power of retort was remarkable,
and in their frequent battles with the squatters or with their
fellows, their nerve and courage were unflinching.
It was in the year 1811 that the steam-engine commenced its giant
labours in the Valley of the West, and the first vessel propelled by
its agency glided along the soft-flowing wave of the beautiful
river.[16] Many events, we are told, united to render this year a most
remarkable era in the annals of Western history.[17] The
spring-freshet of the rivers buried the whole valley from Pittsburgh
to New-Orleans {33} in a flood; and when the waters subsided
unparalleled sickness and mortality ensued. A mysterious spirit of
restlessness possessed the denizens of the Northern forests, and in
myriads they migrated towards the South and West. The magnificent
comet of the year, seeming, indeed, to verify the terrors of
superstition, and to "shake from its horrid hair pestilence and war,"
all that summer was beheld blazing along the midnight sky, and
shedding its lurid twilight over forest and stream; and when the
leaves of autumn began to rustle to the ground, the whole vast Valley
of the Mississippi rocked and vibrated in earthquake-convulsion!
forests bowed their heads; islands disappeared from their sites, and
new one's rose; immense lakes and hills were formed; the graveyard
gave up its sheeted and ghastly tenants; huge relics of the mastodon
and megalonyx, which for ages had slumbered in the bosom of earth,
were heaved up to the sunlight; the blue lightning streamed and the
thunder muttered along the leaden sky, and, amid all the elemental
war, the mighty current of the "Father of Waters" for hours rolled
back its heaped-up floods towards its source! All this was the
prologue to that mighty drama of _Change_ which, from that period to
the present, has been sweeping over the Western Valley; it was the
fearful welcome-home to that all-powerful agent which has
revolutionized the character of half a continent; for at that epoch
of wonders, and amid them all, the first steamboat was seen descending
the great rivers, and the awe-struck Indian {34} on the banks beheld
the _Pinelore_ flying through the troubled waters.[18] The rise and
progress of the steam-engine is without a parallel in the history of
modern improvement. Fifty years ago, and the prophetic declaration of
Darwin was pardoned only as the enthusiasm of poetry; it is now little
more than the detail of reality:
"Soon shall thy arm, unconquer'd steam, afar
Drag the slow barge or drive the rapid car;
Or on wide-waving wings expanded bear
The flying chariot through the fields of air;
Fair crews triumphant, leaning from above,
Shall wave their fluttering kerchiefs as they move,
Or warrior bands alarm the gaping crowd,
And armies shrink beneath the shadowy cloud."[19]
The steam-engine, second only to the press in power, has in a few
years anticipated results throughout the New World which centuries, in
the ordinary course of cause and event, would have failed to produce.
The dullest forester, even the cold, phlegmatic native of the
wilderness, gazes upon its display of beautiful mechanism, its
majestic march upon its element, and its sublimity of power, with
astonishment and admiration.
Return we to the incidents of our passage. During the morning of our
third day upon the Ohio we {35} passed, among others, the villages of
_Rome_, _Troy_, and Rockport.[20] The latter is the most considerable
place of the three, notwithstanding _imposing_ titles. It is situated
upon a green romantic spot, the summit of a precipitous pile of rocks
some hundred feet in height, from which sweeps off a level region of
country in the rear. Here terminates that series of beautiful bluffs
commencing at the confluence of the mountain-streams, and of which so
much has been said. A new geological formation commences of a bolder
character than any before; and the face of the country gradually
assumes those features which are found near the mouth of the river.
Passing Green River with its emerald waters,[21] its "Diamond
Island,"[22] the largest in the Ohio, and said to be _haunted_, and
very many thriving villages, among which was Hendersonville,[23] for
some time the residence of Audubon,[24] the ornithologist, we found
ourselves near midday at the mouth of the smiling Wabash, its high
bluffs crowned with groves of the walnut and pecan, the _carya
olivoeformis_ of Nuttal, and its deep-died surface reflecting the
yet deeper tints of its verdure-clad banks, as the far-winding stream
gradually opened upon the eye, and then retreated in the distance. The
confluence of the streams is at a beautiful angle; and, on observing
the scene, the traveller will remark that the forests upon one bank
are superior in magnitude to those on the other, though of the same
species. The appearance is somewhat singular, and the fact is to be
accounted for only from the reason that the soil {36} differs in
alluvial character. It has been thought that no stream in the world,
for its length and magnitude, drains a more fertile and beautiful
country than the Wabash and its tributaries.[25] Emigrants are rapidly
settling its banks, and a route has been projected for uniting by
canal its waters with those of Lake Erie; surveys by authority of the
State of Indiana have been made, and incipient measures taken
preparatory to carrying the work into execution.[26]
About one hundred miles from the mouth of the Wabash is situated the
village of New-Harmony, far famed for the singular events of which it
has been the scene.[27] It is said to be situated on a broad and
beautiful plateau overlooking the stream, surrounded by a fertile and
heavily-timbered country, and blessed with an atmosphere of health.
It was first settled in 1814 by a religious sect of Germans called
Harmonites, resembling the Moravians in their tenets, and under the
control of George Rapp, in whose name the land was purchased and held.
They were about eight hundred in number, and soon erected a number of
substantial edifices, among which was a huge House of Assemblage an
hundred feet square. They laid out their grounds with beautiful
regularity, and established a botanic garden and an extensive
greenhouse. For ten years the Harmonites continued to live and labour
in love, in the land of their adoption, when the celebrated Robert
Dale Owen,[28] of Scotland, came among them, and, at the sum of one
hundred and ninety thousand dollars, purchased the establishment
entire. His design was of rearing up a community {37} upon a plan
styled by him the "Social System." The peculiar doctrines he
inculcated were a perfect equality, moral, social, political, and
religious. He held that the promise of never-ending love upon marriage
was an absurdity; that children should become no impediment to
separation, as they were to be considered members of the community
from their second year; that the society should have no professed
religion, each individual being indulged in his own faith, and that
all temporal possessions should be held in common. On one night of
every week the whole community met and danced; and on another they
united in a concert of music, while the Sabbath was devoted to
philosophical lectures. Many distinguished individuals are said to
have written to the society inquiring respecting its principles and
prospects, and expressing the wish at a future day to unite with it
their destinies. Mr. Owen was sanguine of success. On the 4th of
July, 1826, he promulgated his celebrated declaration of mental
independence;[29] a document which, for absurdity, has never, perhaps,
been paralleled. But all was in vain. Dissension insinuated itself
among the members; one after another dropped off from the community,
until at length Mr. Owen retired in disgust, and, at a vast sacrifice,
disposed of the establishment to a wealthy Scotch gentleman by the
name of M'Clure, a former coadjutor.[30] Thus was abandoned the
far-famed _social system_, which for a time was an object of interest
and topic of remark all over the United States and even in Europe. The
Duke of Saxe Weimar passed here a {38} week in the spring of 1826, and
has given a detailed and amusing description of his visit.
About ten miles below the mouth of the Wabash is situated the village
of Shawneetown, once a favourite dwelling-spot of the turbulent
Shawnee Indian, the tribe of Tecumseh.[31] Quite a village once stood
here; but, for some cause unknown, it was forsaken previous to its
settlement by the French, and two small mounds are the only vestige of
its existence which are now to be seen. A trading-post was established
by the early Canadian voyageurs; but, on account of the sickliness of
the site, was abandoned, and the spot was soon once more a wilderness.
In the early part of 1812 a land-office was here located, and two
years subsequent a town was laid off by authority of Congress, and
the lots sold as other public lands. Since then it has been gradually
becoming the commercial emporium of southern Illinois.
The buildings, among which are a very conspicuous bank, courthouse,
and a land-office for the southern district of Illinois, are scattered
along upon a gently elevated bottom, swelling up from the river to the
bluffs in the rear, but sometimes submerged. From this latter cause it
has formerly been subject to disease; it is now considered healthy; is
the chief commercial port in this section of the state, and is the
principal point of debarkation for emigrants for the distant West.
Twelve miles in its rear are situated the Gallatin Salines, from which
the United States obtains some hundred thousands of bushels of salt
annually.[32] It is manufactured by {39} the evaporation of salt
water. This is said to abound over the whole extent of this region,
yielding from one eighth to one twelfth of its weight in pure muriate
of soda. In many places it bursts forth in perennial springs; but most
frequently is obtained by penetrating with the augur a depth of from
three to six hundred feet through the solid limestone substratum, when
a copper tube is introduced, and the strongly-impregnated fluid gushes
violently to the surface. In the vicinity of these salines huge
fragments of earthenware, apparently of vessels used in obtaining
salt, and bearing the impress of wickerwork, have been thrown up from
a considerable depth below the surface. Appearances of the same
character exist near Portsmouth, in the State of Ohio, and other
places. Their origin is a mystery! the race which formed them is
departed![33]
_Ohio River._
IV
"Who can paint
Like Nature? Can imagination boast,
Amid its gay creations, hues like hers?
Or can it mix them with that matchless skill,
And lose them in each other, as appears
In every bud that blooms?"
THOMSON.
"Precipitous, black, jagged rocks,
For ever shattered, and the same forever."
COLERIDGE.
It was near noon of the third day of our passage that we found
ourselves in the vicinity of that singular series of massive rock
formations, stretching along for miles upon the eastern bank of the
stream. The whole vast plain, extending from the Northern Lakes to the
mouth of the Ohio, and from the Alleghany slope to the boundless
prairies of the far West, is said by geologists to be supported by a
bed of horizontal limestone rock, whose deep strata have never been
completely pierced, though penetrated many hundred feet by the augur.
This limestone is hard, stratified, imbedding innumerable shells of
the terebratulæ, encrinites, orthocerites, trilobites, productus, and
other species. Throughout most of its whole extent it supports a
stratum of bituminous coal, various metals, and saline impregnations:
its constant decomposition has fertilized the soil, and its absorbent
and cavernous nature has prevented swamps from accumulating upon the
surface. Such, in general outline, is this vast limerock substratum
{41} of the Western Valley. It generally commences but a few feet
below the vegetable deposite; at other places its range is deeper,
while at intervals it rises from the surface, and frowns in
castellated grandeur over objects beneath. These huge masses of
limestone sometimes exhibit the most picturesque and remarkable forms
along the banks of the western rivers, and are penetrated in many
places by vast caverns. The region we were now approaching was a
locality of these singular formations, and for miles before reaching
it, as has been remarked, a change in scenery upon the eastern bank is
observed. Instead of the rounded wooded summits of the "Ohio hills"
sweeping beautifully away in the distance, huge, ponderous rocks,
heaped up in ragged masses, "Pelion upon Ossa," are beheld rearing
themselves abruptly from the stream, and expanding their Briarean arms
in every direction. Some of these cliffs present a uniform, jointed
surface, as if of masonry, resembling ancient edifices, and reminding
the traveller of the giant ruins of man's creations in another
hemisphere, while others appear just on the point of toppling into the
river. Among this range of crags is said to hang an _iron coffin_,
suspended, like Mohammed's, between heaven and earth. It contains the
remains of a man of singular eccentricity, who, previous to his
decease, gave orders that they should be deposited thus; and the
gloomy object at the close of the year, when the trees are stripped of
their foliage, may be perceived, it is said, high up among the rocks
from the deck of the passing {42} steamer. This story probably owes
its origin to an event of actual occurrence somewhat similar, at a
cliff called by the river-pilots "Hanging Rock."[34] It is situated in
the vicinity of "Blennerhasset's Island."[35] The first of these
singular cliffs, called "Battery Rock," stretches along the river-bank
for half a mile, presenting a uniform and perpendicular façade upward
of eighty feet in height. The appearance is striking, standing, as it
does, distinct from anything of a kindred character for miles above
and for some distance below. Passing several fine farms, which sweep
down to the water's edge, a second range of cliffs are discovered,
similar to those described in altitude and aspect; but near the base,
through the dark cypresses skirting the water, is perceived the ragged
entrance to a large cavernous fissure, penetrating the bluff, and
designated by the name of "Rock-Inn-Cave."[36] It is said to have
received this significant appellation from emigrants, who were
accustomed to tarry with their families for weeks at the place when
detained by stress of weather, stage of the river, or any other
circumstance unfavourable to their progress.
It was near noon of a beautiful day when the necessary orders for
landing were issued to the pilot, and our boat rounded up to the low
sand-beach just below this celebrated cavern. As we strolled along the
shore beneath "the precipitous, black, jagged rocks" overhanging the
winding and broken pathway towards the entrance, we could not but
consider its situation wild and rugged enough to please the rifest
fancy. The entrance, {43} at first view, is exceedingly imposing; its
broad massive forehead beetling over the visiter for some yards before
he finds himself within. The mouth of the cavern looks out upon the
stream rushing along at the base of the cliff, and is delightfully
shaded by a cluster of cypresses, rearing aloft their huge shafts,
almost concealed in the luxuriant ivy-leaves clinging to their bark.
The entrance is formed into a semi-elliptical arch, springing boldly
to the height of forty feet from a heavy bench of rock on either side,
and eighty feet in width at the base, throwing over the whole a
massive roof of uniform concavity, verging to a point near the centre
of the cave. Here may be seen another opening of some size, through
which trickles a limpid stream, and forming an entrance to a second
chamber, said to be more extensive than that below. The extreme length
of this cavern is given by Schoolcraft[37] as one hundred and sixty
feet, the floor, the roof, and the walls gradually tapering to a
point. The rock is a secondary limestone, abounding with testacea and
petrifactions, a fine specimen of which I struck from the ledge while
the rest of our party were recording their names among the thousand
dates and inscriptions with which the walls are defaced.
Like all other curiosities of Nature, this cavern was, by the Indian
tribes, deemed the residence of a _Manito_[38] or spirit, evil or
propitious, concerning {44} whom many a wild legend yet lives among
their simple-hearted posterity. They never pass this dwelling-place of
the divinity without discharging their guns (an ordinary mark of
respect), or making some other offering propitiatory of his favour.
These tributary acknowledgments, however, are never of much value. The
view of the stream from the left bench at the cave's mouth is most
beautiful. Immediately in front extends a large and densely-wooded
island, known by the name of the Cave, while the soft-gliding waters
flow between, furnishing a scene of natural beauty worthy an Inman's
pencil; and, if I mistake not, an engraving of the spot has been
published, a ferocious-looking personage, pistol in hand, crouched at
the entrance, eagerly watching an ascending boat. This design
originated, doubtless, in the tradition yet extant, that in the latter
part of the last century this cavern was the rendezvous of a notorious
band of freebooters which then infested the region, headed by the
celebrated Mason,[39] plundering the boats ascending from New-Orleans
and murdering their crews. From these circumstances this cave has
become the scene of a poem of much merit, called the "Outlaw," and has
suggested a spirited tale from a popular writer. Many other spots in
the vicinity were notorious, in the early part of the present century,
for the murder and robbery of travellers, whose fate long remained
enveloped in mystery. On the summit of a lofty bluff, not far from the
"Battery Rock," was pointed out to us a solitary house, with a single
chimney rising from its roof. Its {45} white walls may be viewed for
miles before reaching the place on descending the river. It was here
that the family of Sturdevant carried on their extensive operations as
counterfeiters for many years unsuspected; and on this spot, in 1821,
they expiated their crimes with their lives. A few miles below is a
place called "Ford's Ferry,"[40] where murder, robbery, forgery, and
almost every crime in the calendar were for years committed, while not
a suspicion of the truth was awakened. Ford not only escaped
unsuspected, but was esteemed a most exemplary man. Associated with
him were his son and two other individuals, named Simpson and Shouse.
They are all now gone to their account. The old man was mysteriously
shot by some person who was never discovered, but was supposed to have
been Simpson, between whom and himself a misunderstanding had arisen.
If it were so, the murderer was met by fitting retribution, for _he_
fell in a similar manner. Shouse and the son of Ford atoned upon the
gallows their crimes in 1833. Before reaching this spot the traveller
passes a remarkable mass of limestone called "Tower Rock." It is
perpendicular, isolated, and somewhat cylindrical in outline. It is
many feet in altitude, and upon its summit tradition avers to exist
the ruins of an antique tumulus; an altar, mayhap, of the ancient
forest-sons, where
"Garlands, ears of maize, and skins of wolf
And shaggy bear, the offerings of the tribe
Were made to the Great Spirit."
In the vicinity of the cliff called "Tower Rock," and not far from
Hurricane Island, is said to exist a {46} remarkable cavern of
considerable extent. The cave is entered by an orifice nine feet in
width and twelve feet high; a bench of rock is then ascended a few
feet, and an aperture of the size of an ordinary door admits the
visiter into a spacious hall. In the mouth of the cavern, on the
façade of the cliff, at the altitude of twenty-five feet, are engraved
figures resembling a variety of animals, as the bear, the buffalo, and
even the lion and lioness. All this I saw nothing of, and am, of
course, no voucher for its existence; but a writer in the Port Folio,
so long since as 1816, states the fact, and, moreover, adds that the
engraving upon the rock was executed in "a masterly style."[41]
From this spot the river stretches away in a long delightful reach,
studded with beautiful islands, among which "Hurricane Island," a
very large one, is chief.[42] Passing the compact little village of
Golconda with its neat courthouse, and the mouth of the Cumberland
River with its green island, once the rendezvous of Aaron Burr and his
chivalrous band, we next reached the town of Paducah, at the outlet of
the Tennessee.[43] This is a place of importance,[44] though deemed
unhealthy: it is said to have derived its name from a captive Indian
woman, who was here sacrificed by a band of the Pawnees after having
been assured of safety. About eight miles below Paducah are situated
the ruins of Fort Massac, once a French military post of
importance.[45] There is a singular legend respecting this fort still
popular among the inhabitants of the neighbouring region, the outlines
of which {47} are the following: The fortress was erected by the
French while securing possession of the Western Valley, and, soon
after, hostilities arising between them and the natives, the latter
contrived a stratagem, in every respect worthy the craft and subtlety
of the race, to obtain command of this stronghold. Early one morning a
body of Indians, enveloped each in a bearskin, appeared upon the
opposite bank of the Ohio. Supposing them the animal so faithfully
represented, the whole French garrison in a mass sallied incontinently
forth, anticipating rare sport, while the remnant left behind as a
guard gathered themselves upon the glacis as spectators of the scene.
Meanwhile, a large body of Indians, concealed in rear of the fort,
slipped silently from their ambush, and few were there of the French
who escaped to tell the tale of the scene that ensued. They were
_massacred_ almost to a man, and hence the name of _Massac_ to the
post. During the war of the revolution a garrison was stationed upon
the spot for some years, but the structures are now in ruins. A few
miles below is a small place consisting of a few farmhouses, called
Wilkinsonville,[46] on the site where Fort Wilkinson once stood; just
opposite, along the shore, commences the "Grand Chain" of rocks so
famous to the Ohio pilot, extending four miles. The little village of
Caledonia is here laid off among the bluffs. It has a good landing,
and is the proposed site of a marine hospital.
It was sunset when we arrived at the confluence of the rivers. In
course of the afternoon we had been visited by a violent thunder-gust,
accompanied {48} by hail. But sunset came, and the glorious "bow of
the covenant" was hung out upon the dark bosom of the clouds, spanning
woodland and waters with its beautiful hues. And yet, though the hour
was a delightful one, the scene did not present that aspect of
vastness and sublimity which was anticipated from the celebrity of the
streams. For some miles before uniting its waters with the
Mississippi, the Ohio presents a dull and uninteresting appearance. It
is no longer the clear, sparkling stream, with bluffs and woodland
painted on its surface; the volume of its channel is greatly increased
by its union with two of its principal tributaries, and its waters are
turbid; its banks are low, inundated, and clothed with dark groves of
deciduous forest-trees, and the only sounds which issue from their
depths to greet the traveller's ear are the hoarse croakings of frogs,
or the dull monotony of countless choirs of moschetoes. Thus rolls on
the river through the dullest, dreariest, most uninviting region
imaginable, until it sweeps away in a direction nearly southeast, and
meets the venerable Father of the West advancing to its embrace. The
volume of water in each seems nearly the same; the Ohio exceeds a
little in breadth, their currents oppose to each other an equal
resistance, and the resultant of the forces is a vast lake more than
two miles in breadth, where the united waters slumber quietly and
magnificently onward for leagues in a common bed. On the right come
rolling in the turbid floods of the Mississippi; and on looking upon
it for the first time with preconceived ideas of the magnitude of the
mightiest {49} river on the globe, the spectator is always
disappointed. He considers only its breadth when compared with the
Ohio, without adverting to its vast depth. The Ohio sweeps in
majestically from the north, and its clear waters flow on for miles
without an intimate union with its turbid conqueror. The
characteristics of the two streams are distinctly marked at their
junction and long after. The banks of both are low and swampy, totally
unfit for culture or habitation. "Willow Point," which projects itself
into the confluence, presents an elevation of twenty feet; yet, in
unusual inundations, it is completely buried six feet below the
surface, and the agitated waters, rolling together their masses, form
an enormous lake. How strange it seemed, while gazing upon the view I
have attempted to delineate, now fading away beneath the summer
twilight--how very strange was the reflection that these two noble
streams, deriving their sources in the pellucid lakes and the clear
icy fountains of their highland-homes, meandering majestically through
scenes of nature and of art unsurpassed in beauty, and draining, and
irrigating, and fertilizing the loveliest valley on the globe--how
strange, that the confluence of the waters of such streams, in their
onward rolling to the deep, should take place at almost the only stage
in their course devoid entirely of interest to the eye or the fancy;
in the heart of a dreary and extended swamp, waving with the gloomy
boughs of the cypress, and enlivened by not a sound but the croaking
of bullfrogs, and the deep, surly misery note of {50} moschetoes!
Willow Point is the property of a company of individuals, who announce
it their intention to elevate the delta above the power of
inundations, and here to locate a city.[47] There are as yet, however,
but a few storehouses on the spot; and when we consider the
incalculable expense the only plan for rendering it habitable
involves, we can only deem the idea of a city here as the chimera of a
Utopian fancy. For more than twelve miles above the confluence, the
whole alluvion is annually inundated, and forbids all improvement; but
were this site an elevated one, a city might here be founded which
should command the immense commerce of these great rivers, and become
the grand central emporium of the Western Valley.
Upon the first elevated land above the confluence stands the little
town called America. This is the proposed _terminus_ to the grand
central railroad of the Internal Improvement scheme of Illinois,
projected to pass directly through the state,[48] uniting its northern
extremity with the southern. The town is said to have been much
retarded in its advancement by the circumstance of a sand-bar
obstructing the landing. It has been contemplated to cut a basin,
extending from the Ohio to a stream called "Humphrey's Creek," which
passes through the place, and thus secure a harbour. Could this plan
be carried into execution, America would soon become a town of
importance.
_Ohio River._
V
"The groves were God's first temples."
BRYANT.
"Oh! it's hame, and it's hame, it's hame wad I be,
Hame, hame, hame, to my ain countrie."
CUNNINGHAM.
"Those Sabbath bells, those Sabbath bells,
I hear them wake the hour of prime."
LAMB.
"She walks the waters like a thing of life."
BYRON.
It was late before we had passed the confluence of the Ohio with the
dark-rolling tide of the "endless river," and the mellow gorgeousness
of summer sunset had gently yielded to the duskiness of twilight, and
that to the inky pall of night. The moon had not risen, and the
darkness became gradually so dense that doubts were entertained as to
the prudence of attempting to stem the mighty current of the
Mississippi on such a night. These, however, were overruled; and,
sweeping around the low peninsula of Cairo, our steamer met the
torrent and quivered in every limb. A convulsed, motionless struggle
ensued, in which the heavy labouring of the engine, the shrill whistle
of the safety-valve, the quick, querulous crackling of the furnaces,
the tumultuous rushing of the wheels, and the stern roar of the
scape-pipe, gave evidence of the fearful power summoned up to overcome
the flood. At length we began very slowly to ascend the stream. {52}
Our speed was about five miles an hour, and the force of the current
nearly the same, which so impedes advancement that it requires as long
to ascend from the confluence to St. Louis as to descend to the same
point from the Falls, though the distance is less than half. All night
our steamer urged herself slowly onward against the current, and the
morning found us threading a narrow channel amid a cluster of
islands, from whose dense foliage the night-mists were rising and
settling in dim confusion. Near the middle of the stream, above this
collection, lays a very large island, comprising eight or ten thousand
acres. It is called English Island;[49] is heavily timbered; huge
vines of the wild grape are leaping like living things from branch to
branch, and the wild pea flourishes all over the surface of the soil
in most luxuriant profusion. The stream here expands itself to the
breadth of four miles, and abounds with islands.
As the morning advanced the sun burst gloriously forth from the mists;
and as I gazed with tranquillized delight upon the beautiful scenery
it unrolled, I remembered that it was the morning of the Sabbath--the
peaceful Sabbath. It is a sweet thing to pass the hours of holy time
amid the eloquent teachings of inanimate nature. It is pleasant to
yield up for a season the sober workings of reason to the warm
gushings of the heart, and to suffer the homage of the soul to go up
before the Author of its being unfettered by the chill formalities,
the bustling parade, the soulless dissembling of the unbending
courtesies of ordinary life. Amid the {53} crowded assemblage, there
is but little of that humbleness of spirit and that simple-hearted
fervour of worship which it is in man to feel when communing within
the shadowy solitudes of Nature with his God. There are moments, too,
when the soul of man is called back from the heartlessness of life,
and pours forth its emotions, gush upon gush, in all the hallowed
luxuriance of its nature; when, from the fevered turmoil of daily
existence, it retires to well up its sympathies alone beneath the
covert of a lulled and peaceful bosom; and surely such a season is the
calm, waveless hour of Sabbath sacredness. And it is a blessed
appointment that, in a world whose quietude too often is disturbed by
the untamed heavings of unholy feeling, there should yet be moments
when the agitated events of the past are forgotten, when the
apprehensions of the future are unthought of, and the generous
emotions of the heart are no more repressed. Such moments are the
crystal fount of the _oasis_, girt, indeed, by the sands and
barrenness of the desert; yet laughing forth in tinkling melody amid
its sprinkled evergreens, in all the sparkling freshness of mimic
life, to bathe the languid lip of the weary one. Such moments are the
mellow radiance of the departing sun when the trials of the day are
over; and tenderly and softly do their influences descend upon the
heart. Like the pure splendour of the star of even, how calmly does
the sacred Sabbath-time beam out from the dark, unquiet firmament of
life! 'Tis the blessed rainbow of promise and of consolation amid the
rough storms of our pilgrimage, {54} and its holy influences elicit
all the untold richness of the heart. It is a season soft as the
memorial of buried affection, mild as the melody of departed years,
pure as the prayer of feebleness from the lip of childhood, beautiful
as yon floating islet sleeping in sunset radiance on the blue evening
wave. "Gone, gone for ever!" Another Sabbath is over, and from its
gathering shades it is good to cast back a glance of reflection.
A company of emigrants, in course of the morning, were landed from our
boat at a desolate-looking spot upon the Missouri shore; men, women,
and little ones, with slaves, household stuff, pots, kettles, dogs,
implements of husbandry, and all the paraphernalia of the backwood's
farm heaped up promiscuously in a heterogeneous mass among the
undergrowth beneath the lofty trees. A similar party from the State of
Vermont were, during our passage, landed near the mouth of the Wabash,
one of whom was a pretty, delicate female, with an infant boy in her
arms. They had been _deck-passengers_, and we had seen none of them
before; yet their situation could not but excite interest in their
welfare. Poor woman! thought I, as our boat left them gazing anxiously
after us from the inhospitable bank, little do you dream of the trials
and the privations to which your destiny conducts, and the hours of
bitter retrospection which are to come over your spirit like a blight,
as, from these cheerless solitudes, you cast back many a lingering
thought to your dear, distant home in New-England; whose very
mountain-crags and fierce storms {55} of winter, harsh and unwelcome
though they might seem to the stranger, were yet pleasant to you:
"My native land! my native land!
Though bare and bleak thou be,
And scant and cold thy summer smile,
Thou'rt all the world to me."
A few years, and all this will have passed away. A new home and new
ties will have sprung up in the wilderness to soothe the remembrance
of the old. This broad valley will swarm with population; the warm
breath of man will be felt upon the cheek, and his tread will be heard
at the side; the glare of civilization and the confused hum of
business will have violated these solitudes and broken in upon their
gloom, and here empire shall have planted her throne; and then,
perchance, that playful boy upon the bosom may rise to wield the
destinies of his fellows. But many a year of toil and privation must
first have passed away; and who shall record their annals? A thousand
circumstances, all unlooked for, will seize upon the feelings of the
emigrant; the harshness of strangers, the cold regard of recent
acquaintance, the absence of relatives and of friends long cherished,
the distance which separates him from his native home, and the dreary
time which must elapse between all communications of the pen. And then
the sweet chime of the Sabbath-bell of New-England, pealing out in
"angels' music"[50] on the clear mountain-air, to usher in the hours
of holy time, and to summon the soul of man to communion with its
Maker; will this be heard amid the forest solitude? and all that quiet
{56} intermingling of heart with heart which divests grief of half its
bitterness by taking from it all its loneliness? And the hour of
sickness, and of death, and of gushing tears, as they come to all, may
not be absent here; and where are the soothing consolations of
religious solemnity, and the sympathies of kindred souls, and the
unobtrusive condolence of those who alone may enter the inner temple
of the breast, where the stranger intermeddleth not? Yes, it must
be--notwithstanding the golden anticipations indulged by every humble
emigrant to this El Dorado of promise--it must be that there will
arise in his bosom, when he finds himself for the first time amid
these vast forest solitudes, attended only by his wife and children, a
feeling of unutterable loneliness and desertion. Until this moment he
has been sustained by the buoyancy of anticipated success, the
excitement of change, the enlivening influences of new and beautiful
scenes; and the effect of strange faces and strange customs has been
to divert the attention, while the farewell pressure of affection yet
has warmly lingered. All this is over now, and his spirit, left to its
own resources, sinks within him. The sacred spot of his nativity is
far, far away towards the morning sun; and there is the village church
and the village graveyard, hallowed by many a holy remembrance; there,
too, are the playmates and the scenes of his boyhood-days; the
trysting-place of youthful love and of youthful friendship, spots
around which are twined full many a tendril of his heart; and he has
turned from them all _for ever_. Henceforth he is a wanderer, and a
distant soil must {57} claim his ashes. He who, with such
reflections, yearns not for the home of his fathers, is an alien, and
no true son of New-England.
It was yet early in the morning of our first day upon the Mississippi
that we found ourselves beneath the stately bluff upon which stands
the old village of Cape Girardeau.[51] Its site is a bold bank of the
stream, gently sloping to the water's edge, upon a substratum of
limerock. A settlement was commenced on this spot in the latter part
of the last century. Its founders were of French and German
extraction, though its structures do not betray their origin. The
great earthquakes of 1811, which vibrated through the whole length of
the Western Valley, agitated the site of this village severely; many
brick houses were shattered, chimneys thrown down, and other damage
effected, traces of the repairs of which are yet to be viewed. The
place received a shock far more severe, however, in the removal of the
seat of justice to another town in the county: but the landing is an
excellent one; iron ore and other minerals are its staples of trade,
and it is again beginning to assume a commercial character. The most
remarkable objects which struck our attention in passing this place
were several of those peculiarly novel mills put in motion by a spiral
water-wheel, acted on by the current of the river. These screw-wheels
float upon the surface parallel to the shore, rising or falling with
the water, and are connected with the gearing in the millhouse upon
the bank by a long shaft. The action of the current upon {58} the
spiral thread of the wheel within its external casing keeps it in
constant motion, which is communicated by the shaft to the machinery
of the mills. The contrivance betrays much ingenuity, and for purposes
where a _motive_ of inconsiderable power is required, may be useful;
but for driving heavy millstones or a saw, the utility is more than
problematical.
In the vicinity of Cape Girardeau commences what is termed the
"Tyowapity Bottom," a celebrated section of country extending along
the Missouri side of the stream some thirty miles, and abounding with
a peculiar species of potter's clay, unctuous in its nature,
exceedingly pure and white, and plastic under the wheel.[52] This
stratum of clay is said to vary from one foot to ten in depth, resting
upon sandstone, and covered by limestone abounding in petrifactions. A
manufactory is in operation at Cape Girardeau, in which this substance
is the material employed. Near the northern extremity of this bottom
the waters of the Muddy River enter the Mississippi from Illinois.[53]
This stream was discovered by the early French voyageurs, and from
them received the name of _Rivière au Vase_, or _Vaseux_. It is
distinguished for the salines upon its banks, for its exhaustless beds
of bituminous coal, for the fertility of the soil, and for a
singularly-formed eminence among the bluffs of the Mississippi, a few
miles from its mouth. Its name is "_Fountain Bluff_," derived from the
circumstance that from its base gush out a number of limpid
springs.[54] It is said to measure eight miles {59} in circumference,
and to have an altitude of several hundred feet. Its western declivity
looks down upon the river, and its northern side is a precipitous
crag, while that upon the south slopes away to a fertile plain,
sprinkled with farms.
A few miles above the Big Muddy stands out from the Missouri shore a
huge perpendicular column of limestone, of cylindrical formation,
about one hundred feet in circumference at the base, and in height one
hundred and fifty feet, called the "Grand Tower."[55] Upon its summit
rests a thin stratum of vegetable mould, supporting a shaggy crown of
rifted cedars, rocking in every blast that sweeps the stream, whose
turbid current boils, and chafes, and rages at the obstruction below.
This is the first of that celebrated range of heights upon the
Mississippi usually pointed out to the tourist, springing in isolated
masses from the river's brink upon either side, and presenting to the
eye a succession of objects singularly grotesque. There are said to
exist, at this point upon the Mississippi, indications of a huge
parapet of limestone having once extended across the stream, which
must have formed a tremendous cataract, and effectually inundated all
the alluvion above. At low stages of the water ragged shelves, which
render the navigation dangerous, are still to be seen. Among the other
cliffs along this precipitous range which have received names from the
boatmen are the "Devil's Oven," "Teatable," "Backbone," &c., which,
with the "Devil's Anvil," "Devil's Island," &c., indicate pretty
plainly the divinity most religiously propitiated {60} in these
dangerous passes.[56] The "Oven" consists of an enormous promontory
of rock, about one hundred feet from the surface of the river, with a
hemispherical orifice scooped out of its face, probably by the action,
in ages past, of the whirling waters now hurrying on below. It is
situated upon the left bank of the stream, about one mile above the
"Tower," and is visible from the river. In front rests a huge fragment
of the same rock, and in the interval stands a dwelling and a garden
spot. The "Teatable" is situated at some distance below, and the other
spots named are yet lower upon the stream. This whole region bears
palpable evidence of having been subjected, ages since, to powerful
volcanic and diluvial action; and neither the Neptunian or Vulcanian
theory can advance a superior claim.
For a long time after entering the dangerous defile in the vicinity of
the _Grand Tower_, through which the current rushes like a racehorse,
our steamer writhed and groaned against the torrent, hardly advancing
a foot. At length, as if by a single tremendous effort, which caused
her to quiver and vibrate to her centre, an onward impetus was gained,
the boat shot forward, the rapids were overcome, and then, by chance,
commenced one of those perilous feats of rivalry, formerly, more than
at present, frequent upon the Western waters, A RACE. Directly before
us, a steamer of a large class, deeply laden, was roaring and
struggling against the torrent under her highest pressure. During our
passage we had several times passed and repassed each other, as either
boat was delayed {61} at the various woodyards along the route; but
now, as the evening came on, and we found ourselves gaining upon our
antagonist, the excitement of emulation flushed every cheek. The
passengers and crew hung clustering, in breathless interest, upon the
galleries and the boiler deck, wherever a post for advantageous view
presented; while the hissing valves, the quick, heavy stroke of the
piston, the sharp clatter of the _eccentric_, and the cool
determination of the pale engineer, as he glided like a spectre among
the fearful elements of destruction, gave evidence that the challenge
was accepted. But there was one humble individual, above all others,
whose whole soul seemed concentrated in the contest, as from time to
time, in the intervals of toil, his begrimed and working features were
caught, glaring through the lurid light of the furnaces he was
feeding. This was no less a personage than the doughty fireman of our
steamer; a long, lanky individual, with a cute cast of the eye, a
knowing tweak of the nose, and an interminable longitude of phiz. His
checkered shirt was drenched with perspiration; a huge pair of
breeches, begirdling his loins by means of a leathern belt, covered
his nether extremities, and two sinewy arms of "whipcord and bone"
held in suspension a spadelike brace of hands. During our passage,
more than once did I avail myself of an opportunity of studying the
grotesque, good-humoured visage of this _unique_ individual; and it
required no effort of fancy to imagine I viewed before me some
lingering remnant of that "horse and alligator race," now, like {62}
the poor Indian, fast fading from the West before the march of
steamboats and civilization, _videlicet_, "the Mississippi boatman."
And, on the occasion of which I speak, methought I could catch no
slight resemblance in my interesting fireman, as he flourished his
ponderous limbs, to that faithful portraiture of his majesty of the
Styx in Tooke's Pantheon! though, as touching this latter, I must
confess me of much dubiety in boyhood days, with the worthy
"gravedigger" Young, having entertained shrewd suspicions whether the
"tyrant ever sat."
But in my zeal for the honest Charon I am forgetting the exciting
subject of the race. During my digression, the ambitious steamers have
been puffing, and sweating, and glowing in laudable effort, to say
nothing of stifled sobs said to have issued from their labouring
bosoms, until at length a grim smile of satisfaction lighting up the
rugged features of the worthy Charon, gave evidence that not in vain
he had wielded his mace or heaved his wood. A dense mist soon after
came on, and the exhausted steamers were hauled up at midnight beneath
the venerable trees upon the banks of the stream. On the first
breakings of dawn all was again in motion. But, alas! alas! in spite
of all the strivings of our valorous steamer, it soon became but too
evident that her mighty rival must prevail, as with distended jaws,
like to some huge fish, she came rushing up in our wake, as if our
annihilation were sure. But our apprehensions proved groundless; like
a civil, well-behaved rival, she speeded on, hurling forth a triple
bob-major of {63} curses at us as she passed, doubtless by way of
salvo, and disappeared behind a point. When to this circumstance is
added that a long-winded racer of a mail-boat soon after swept past us
in her onward course, and left us far in the rear, I shall be believed
when it is stated that the steamer on which we were embarked was
distinguished for anything but speed; a circumstance by none regretted
_less_ than by myself.
_Mississippi River._
VI
"I linger yet with Nature."
MANFRED.
"Onward still I press,
Follow thy windings still, yet sigh for more."
GOETHE.
"God's my life, did you ever hear the like!
What a strange man is this!"
BEN JONSON.
But a very few years have passed away since the navigation of the
Mississippi was that of one of the most dangerous streams on the
globe; but, thanks to the enterprising genius of the scientific
Shreve, this may no longer with truth be said. In 1824 the first
appropriation[57] was voted by Congress for improving the navigation
of the Western rivers; and since that period thousands of snags,
sawyers, {64} planters, sand-bars, sunken rocks, and fallen trees have
been removed, until all that now remains is to prevent new obstacles
from accumulating where the old have been eradicated. For much of its
course in its lower sections, the Mississippi is now quite safe; and
as the progress of settlements advances upon its banks, the navigation
of this noble stream will doubtless become unobstructed in its whole
magnificent journey from the falls of the "Laughing Water" to the
Mexican Gulf. The indefatigable industry, the tireless perseverance,
the indomitable enterprise, and the enlarged and scientific policy of
Captain Shreve, the projector and accomplisher of the grand national
operations upon the Western rivers, can never be estimated beyond
their merit. The execution of that gigantic undertaking, the removal
of the Red River Raft, has identified his history with that of the
empire West;[58] his fame will endure so long as those magnificent
streams, with which his name is associated, shall continue to roll on
their volumed waters to the deep.
These remarks have been suggested by scenes of constant recurrence to
the traveller on the Mississippi. The banks, the forests, the islands
all differ as much as the stream itself from those of the soft-gliding
Ohio. Instead of those dense emerald masses of billowy foliage
swelling gracefully up from the banks of "the beautiful river," those
of the Mississippi throw back a rough, ragged outline; their sands
piled with logs and uprooted trees, while heaps of wreck and
drift-wood betray the wild ravages of the stream. In the midst of {65}
the mass a single enormous sycamore often rears its ghastly limbs,
while at its foot springs gracefully up a light fringe of the pensile
willow. Sometimes, too, a huge sawyer, clinging upon the verge of the
channel, heaves up its black mass above the surface, then falls, and
again rises with the rush of the current. Against one of these sawyers
is sometimes lodged a mass of drift-wood, pressing it firmly upon the
bottom, till, by a constant accumulation, a foundation is gradually
laid and a new island is formed: this again, by throwing the water
from its course, causes a new channel, which, infringing with violence
upon the opposite bank, undermines it with its colonnade of enormous
trees, and thus new material in endless succession is afforded for
obstructions to the navigation. The deposites of alluvion along the
banks betray a similar origin of gradual accumulation by the annual
floods. In some sections of the American Bottom,[59] commencing at its
southern extremity with the Kaskaskia River, the mould, upward of
thirty feet in depth, is made up of numerous strata of earth, which
may be readily distinguished and counted by the colours.
About twenty miles above the mouth of the Kaskaskia is situated Ste.
Genevieve, grand deposite of the lead of the celebrated ancient mines
_La Motte_, and _A'Burton_, and others, some thirty miles in the
interior, and the market which supplies all the mining district of the
vicinity.[60] It was first commenced about the year 1774 by the
original settlers of Upper Louisiana; and the Canadian {66} French,
with their descendants, constitute a large portion of its present
inhabitants. The population does not now exceed eight hundred, though
it is once said to have numbered two thousand inhabitants. Some of the
villagers are advanced in years, and among them is M. Valle, one of
the chief proprietors of _Mine la Motte_, who, though now some ninety
years of age, is almost as active as when fifty.[61] Ste. Genevieve
is situated about one mile from the Mississippi, upon a broad alluvial
plain lying between the branches of a small stream called _Gabourie_.
Beyond the first bottom rises a second steppe, and behind this yet a
third, attaining an elevation of more than a hundred feet from the
water's edge. Upon this elevated site was erected, some twenty years
since, a handsome structure of stone, commanding a noble prospect of
the river, the broad American Bottom on the opposite side, and the
bluffs beyond the Kaskaskia. It was intended for a literary
institution; but, owing to unfavourable reports with regard to the
health of its situation, the design was abandoned, and the edifice was
never completed. It is now in a state of "ruinous perfection," and
enjoys the reputation, moreover, of being _haunted_. In very sooth,
its aspect, viewed from the river at twilight, with its broken windows
outlined against the western sky, is wild enough to warrant such an
idea or any other. A courthouse and Catholic chapel constitute the
public buildings. To the south of the village, and lying upon the
river, is situated the common field, originally comprising {67} two
thousand _arpens_; but it is now much less in extent, and is yearly
diminishing from the action of the current upon the alluvial banks.
These common fields were granted by the Spanish government, as well as
by the French, to every village settled under their domination. A
single enclosure at the expense of the villagers was erected and kept
in repair, and the lot of every individual was separated from his
neighbour's by a double furrow. Near this field the village was
formerly located; but in the inundation of 1785, called by the old
_habitans_ "_L'annee des grandes eaux_," so much of the bank was
washed away that the settlers were forced to select a more elevated
site. The Mississippi was at this time swelled to thirty feet above
the highest water-mark before known; and the town of Kaskaskia and the
whole American Bottom were inundated.
Almost every description of minerals are to be found in the county, of
which Ste. Genevieve is the seat of justice. But of all other species,
iron ore is the most abundant. The celebrated _Iron Mountain_ and the
_Pilot Knob_ are but forty miles distant.[62] Abundance of coal is
found in the opposite bluffs in Illinois. About twelve miles from the
village has been opened a quarry of beautiful white marble, in some
respects thought not inferior to that of Carrara. There are also said
to be immense caves of pure white sand, of dazzling lustre, quantities
of which are transported to Pittsburg for the manufacture of flint
glass. There are a number of beautiful fountains in the neighbourhood,
one of which is said to be of surpassing loveliness. It is several
{68} yards square, and rushes up from a depth of fifteen or twenty
feet, enclosed upon three sides by masses of living rock, over which,
in pensile gracefulness, repose the long glossy branches of the forest
trees.
The early French settlers manufactured salt a few miles from the
village, at a saline formerly occupied by the aborigines, the remains
of whose earthen kettles are yet found on the spot. About thirty years
since a village of the Peoria Indians was situated where the French
common field now stands;[63] and from the ancient mounds found in the
vicinity, and the vast quantities of animal and human remains, and
utensils of pottery exhumed from the soil, the spot seems to have been
a favourite location of a race whose destiny, and origin, and history
are alike veiled in oblivion. The view of Ste. Genevieve from the
water is picturesque and beautiful, and its landing is said to be
superior to any between the mouth of the Ohio and the city of St.
Louis. The village has that decayed and venerable aspect
characteristic of all these early French settlements.
As we were passing Ste. Genevieve an accident occurred which had
nearly proved fatal to our boat, if not to the lives of all on board
of her. A race which took place between another steamer and our own
has been noticed. In some unaccountable manner, this boat, which then
passed us, fell again in the rear, and now, for the last hour, had
been coming up in our wake under high steam. On overtaking us, she
attempted, contrary to all rules and regulations {69} for the
navigation of the river provided, to pass between our boat and the
bank beneath which we were moving; an outrage which, had it been
persisted in a moment longer than was fortunately the case, would have
sent us to the bottom. For a single instant, as she came rushing on,
contact seemed inevitable; and, as her force was far superior to our
own, and the recklessness of many who have the guidance of Western
steamers was well known to us all, the passengers stood clustering
around upon the decks, some pale with apprehension, and others with
firearms in their hands, flushed with excitement, and prepared to
render back prompt retribution on the first aggression. The pilot of
the hostile boat, from his exposed situation and the virulent feelings
against him, would have met with certain death; and he, consequently,
contrary to the express injunctions of the master, reversed the motion
of the wheels just at the instant to avoid the fatal encounter. The
sole cause for this outrage, we subsequently learned, was a private
pique existing between the pilots of the respective steamers. One
cannot restrain an expression of indignant feeling at such an
exhibition of foolhardy recklessness. It is strange, after all the
fearful accidents of this description upon the Western waters, and
that terrible prodigality of human life which for years past has been
constantly exhibited, there should yet be found individuals so utterly
regardless of the safety of their fellow-men, and so destitute of
every emotion of generous feeling, as to force their way heedlessly
onward into {70} danger, careless of any issue save the paltry
gratification of private vengeance. It is a question daily becoming of
more startling import, How may these fatal occurrences be successfully
opposed? Where lies the fault? Is it in public sentiment? Is it in
legal enactment? Is it in individual villany? However this may be, our
passage seemed fraught with adventure, of which this is but an
incident. After the event mentioned, having composed the agitation
consequent, we had retired to our berths, and were just buried in
profound sleep, when crash--our boat's bow struck heavily against a
snag, which, glancing along the bottom, threw her at once upon her
beams, and all the passengers on the elevated side from their berths.
No serious injury was sustained, though alarm and confusion enough
were excited by such an unceremonious turn-out. The dismay and
tribulation of some of our worthy company were entirely too ludicrous
for the risibles of the others, and a hearty roar of cachinnation was
heard even above the ejaculations of distress; a very improper thing,
no doubt, and not at all to be recommended on such occasions, as one
would hardly wish to make a grave "unknell'd and uncoffin'd" in the
Mississippi, with a broad grin upon his phiz.
In alluding to the race which took place during our passage,
honourable mention was made of a certain worthy individual whose
vocation was to feed the furnaces; and one bright morning, when all
the others of our company had bestowed themselves in their berths
because of the intolerable {71} heat, I took occasion to visit the
sooty Charon in the purgatorial realms over which he wielded the
sceptre. "Grievous work this building fires under a sun like that,"
was the salutation, as my friend the fireman had just completed the
toilsome operation once more of stuffing the furnace, while floods of
perspiration were coursing down a chest hairy as Esau's in the
Scripture, and as brawny. Hereupon honest Charon lifted up his face,
and drawing a dingy shirt sleeve with emphasis athwart his eyes,
bleared with smut, responded, "Ay, ay, sir; it's a sin to Moses, such
a trade;" and seizing incontinently upon a fragment of tin, fashioned
by dint of thumping into a polygonal dipper of unearthly dimensions,
he scooped up a quantity of the turbid fluid through which we were
moving, and deep, deep was the potation which, like a succession of
rapids, went gurgling down his throat. Marvellously refreshed, the
worthy genius dilated, much to my edification, upon the glories of a
fireman's life. "Upon this hint I spake" touching the topic of our
recent race; and then were the strings of the old worthy's tongue let
loose; and vehemently amplified he upon "our smart chance of a gallop"
and "the slight sprinkling of steam he had managed to push up." "Ah,
stranger, I'll allow, and couldn't I have teetotally obfusticated her,
and right mightily used her up, hadn't it been I was sort of bashful
as to keeping path with such a cursed old mud-turtle! But it's all
done gone;" and the droughty Charon seized another swig from the
unearthly dipper; and closing hermetically his lantern jaws, and
resuming his _infernal_ {72} labours, to which those of Alcmena's son
or of Tartarean Sysiphus were trifles, I had the discretion to betake
myself to the upper world.
During the night, after passing Ste. Genevieve, our steamer landed at
a woodyard in the vicinity of that celebrated old fortress, Fort
Chartres, erected by the French while in possession of Illinois; once
the most powerful fortification in North America, but now a pile of
ruins.[64] It is situated about three miles from _Prairie de Rocher_,
a little antiquated French hamlet, the scene of one of Hall's Western
Legends.[65] We could see nothing of the old fort from our situation
on the boat; but its vast ruins, though now a shattered heap, and
shrouded with forest-trees of more than half a century's growth, are
said still to proclaim in their finished and ponderous masonry its
ancient grandeur and strength. In front stretches a large island in
the stream, which has received from the old ruin a name. It is not a
little surprising that there exists no description of this venerable
pile worthy its origin and eventful history.
_Mississippi River._
VII
"The hills! our mountain-wall, the hills!"
_Alpine Omen._
"But thou, exulting and abounding river!
Making thy waves a blessing as they flow
Through banks whose beauty would endure for ever,
Could man but leave thy bright creation so--"
_Childe Harold._
There are few objects upon the Mississippi in which the geologist and
natural philosopher may claim a deeper interest than that singular
series of limestone cliffs already alluded to, which, above its
junction with the Ohio, present themselves to the traveller all along
the Missouri shore. The principal ridge commences a few miles above
Ste. Genevieve; and at sunrise one morning we found ourselves beneath
a huge battlement of crags, rising precipitously from the river to the
height of several hundred feet. Seldom have I gazed upon a scene more
eminently imposing than that of these hoary old cliffs, when the
midsummer-sun, rushing upward from the eastern horizon, bathed their
splintered pinnacles and spires and the rifted tree-tops in a flood of
golden effulgence. The scene was not unworthy Walter Scott's graphic
description of the view from the Trosachs of Loch Katrine, in the
"Lady of the Lake:"
"The _eastern_ waves of _rising_ day
Roll'd o'er the _stream_ their level way;
Each purple peak, each flinty spire,
Was bathed in floods of living fire.
* * * * *
Their rocky summits, split and rent,
Form'd turret, dome, or battlement,
Or seem'd fantastically set
With cupola or minaret,
Wild crests as pagod ever decked
Or mosque of eastern architect."
{74} All of these precipices, not less than those on the Ohio, betray
palpable indication of having once been swept by the stream; and the
fantastic excavations and cavernous fissures which their bold
escarpments expose would indicate a current far more furious and
headstrong than that, resistless though it be, which now rolls at
their base. The idea receives confirmation from the circumstance that
opposite extends the broad American Bottom, whose alluvial character
is undisputed. This tract once constituted our western border, whence
the name.
The bluffs of Selma and Herculaneum are distinguished for their beauty
and grandeur, not less than for the practical utility to which they
have been made subservient. Both places are great depositories of lead
from the mines of the interior, and all along their cliffs, for miles,
upon every eligible point, are erected tall towers for the manufacture
of shot. Their appearance in distant view is singularly picturesque,
perched lightly upon the pinnacles of towering cliffs, beetling over
the flood, which rushes along two hundred feet below. Some of these
shot manufactories have been in operation {75} for nearly thirty
years.[66] Herculaneum has long been celebrated for those in her
vicinity. The situation of the town is the mouth of Joachim Creek; and
the singular gap at this point has been aptly compared to an enormous
door, thrown open in the cliffs for the passage of its waters. A few
miles west of this village is said to exist a great natural curiosity,
in shape of a huge rock of limestone, some hundred feet in length,
and about fifty feet high. This rock is completely honeycombed with
perforations, and has the appearance of having been pierced by the
mytilus or some other marine insect.
A few miles above Herculaneum comes in the Platine Creek;[67] and here
commence the "Cornice Rocks," a magnificent escarpment of castellated
cliffs some two or three hundred feet in perpendicular altitude from
the bed of the stream, and extending along the western bank a distance
of eight or ten miles. Through the façade of these bluffs pours in the
tribute of the Merrimac, a bright, sparkling, beautiful stream.[68]
This river is so clear and limpid that it was long supposed to glide
over sands of silver; but the idea has been abandoned, and given place
to the certainty of an abundant store of lead, and iron, and salt upon
its banks, while its source is shaded by extensive forests of the
white pine, a material in this section of country almost, if not
quite, as valuable.[69] Ancient works of various forms are also found
upon the banks of the Merrimac. There is an immense cemetery near the
village of Fenton, containing {76} thousands of graves of a pigmy
size, the largest not exceeding four feet in length. This cemetery is
now enclosed and cultivated, so that the graves are no longer visible;
but, previous to this, it is said that headstones were to be seen
bearing unintelligible hieroglyphical inscriptions.[70] Human remains,
ancient pottery, arrow-heads, and stone axes are daily thrown up by
the ploughshare, while the numerous mounds in the vicinity are
literally composed of the same materials. Mammoth bones, such as those
discovered on the Ohio and in the state of New-York, are said also to
have been found at a salt-lick near this stream.
It was a bright morning, on the fifth day of an exceedingly long
passage, that we found ourselves approaching St. Louis. At about noon
we were gliding beneath the broad ensign floating from the flagstaff
of Jefferson Barracks.[71] The sun was gloriously bright; the soft
summer wind was rippling the waters, and the clear cerulean of the
heavens was imaged in their depths. The site of the quadrangle of the
barracks enclosing the parade is the broad summit of a noble bluff,
swelling up from the water, while the outbuildings are scattered
picturesquely along the interval beneath; the view from the steamer
cannot but strike the traveller as one of much scenic beauty. Passing
the venerable village of Carondelet, with its whitewashed cottages
crumbling with years, and old Cahokia buried in the forests on the
opposite bank, the gray walls of the Arsenal next stood out before us
in the rear of its beautiful esplanade.[72] A fine quay is erected
upon the river in front, and the extensive grounds {77} are enclosed
by a wall of stone. Sweeping onward, the lofty spire and dusky walls
of St. Louis Cathedral, on rounding a river bend, opened upon the eye,
the gilded crucifix gleaming in the sunlight from its lofty summit;
and then the glittering cupolas and church domes, and the fresh aspect
of private residences, mingling with the bright foliage of
forest-trees interspersed, all swelling gently from the water's edge,
recalled vividly the beautiful "Mistress of the North," as my eye has
often lingered upon her from her magnificent bay. A few more spires,
and the illusion would be perfect. For beauty of outline in distant
view, St. Louis is deservedly famed. The extended range of limestone
warehouses circling the shore give to the city a grandeur of aspect,
as approached from the water, not often beheld; while the
dense-rolling forest-tops stretching away in the rear, the sharp
outline of the towers and roofs against the western sky, and the
funereal grove of steamboat-pipes lining the quay, altogether make up
a combination of features novel and picturesque. As we approached the
landing all the uproar and confusion of a steamboat port was before
us, and our own arrival added to the bustle.
And now, perchance, having escaped the manifold perils of sawyer and
snag, planter, wreck-heap, and sand-bar, it may not be unbecoming in
me, like an hundred other tourists, to gather up a votive offering,
and--if classic allusion be permissible on the waters of the
wilderness West--hang it up before the shrine of the "Father of
Floods."
{78} It is surely no misnomer that this giant stream has been styled
the "eternal river," the "terrible Mississippi;"[73] for we may find
none other imbodying so many elements of the fearful and the sublime.
In the wild rice-lakes of the far frozen north, amid a solitude broken
only by the shrill clang of the myriad water-fowls, is its home.
Gushing out from its fountains clear as the air-bell, it sparkles over
the white pebbly sand-beds, and, breaking over the beautiful falls of
the "Laughing Water,"[74] it takes up its majestic march to the
distant deep. Rolling onward through the shades of magnificent
forests, and hoary, castellated cliffs, and beautiful meadows, its
volume is swollen as it advances, until it receives to its bosom a
tributary, a rival, a conqueror, which has roamed three thousand miles
for the meeting, and its original features are lost for ever. Its
beauty is merged in sublimity! Pouring along in its deep bed the
heaped-up waters of streams which drain the broadest valley on the
globe; sweeping onward in a boiling mass, furious, turbid, always
dangerous; tearing away, from time to time, its deep banks, with their
giant colonnades of living verdure, and then, with the stern despotism
of a conqueror, flinging them aside again; governed by no principle
but its own lawless will, the dark majesty of its features summons up
an emotion of the sublime which defies contrast or parallel. And then,
when we think of its far, lonely course, journeying onward in proud,
dread, solitary grandeur, {79} through forests dusk with the lapse of
centuries, pouring out the ice and snows of arctic lands through every
temperature of clime, till at last it heaves free its mighty bosom
beneath the Line, we are forced to yield up ourselves in uncontrolled
admiration of its gloomy magnificence. And its dark, mysterious
history, too; those fearful scenes of which it has alone been the
witness; the venerable tombs of a race departed which shadow its
waters; the savage tribes that yet roam its forests; the germes of
civilization expanding upon its borders; and the deep solitudes,
untrodden by man, through which it rolls, all conspire to throng the
fancy. Ages on ages and cycles upon cycles have rolled away; wave
after wave has swept the broad fields of the Old World; an hundred
generations have arisen from the cradle and flourished in their
freshness, and, like autumn leaflets, have withered in the tomb; and
the Pharaohs and the Ptolemies, the Cæsars and the Caliphs, have
thundered over the nations and passed away; and here, amid these
terrible solitudes, in the stern majesty of loneliness, and power, and
pride, have rolled onward these deep waters to their destiny!
"Who gave you your invulnerable life,
Your strength, your speed, your fury, and your joy?
God! let the torrents, like a shout of nations,
Answer!"
There is, perhaps, no stream which presents a greater variety of
feature than the Mississippi, or phenomena of deeper interest, whether
we regard the soil, productions, and climate of its valley, its
individual character and that of its tributaries, or {80} the outline
of its scenery and course. The confluents of this vast stream are
numerous, and each one brings a tribute of the soil through which it
has roamed. The Missouri pours out its waters heavily charged with the
marl of the Rocky Mountains, the saffron sands of the Yellow Stone,
and the chalk of the White River; the Ohio holds in its floods the
vegetable mould of the Alleghanies, and the Arkansas and Red Rivers
bring in the deep-died alluvion of their banks. Each tributary mingles
the spoils of its native hills with the general flood. And yet, after
the contributions of so many streams, the remarkable fact is observed
that its breadth and volume seem rather diminished than
increased.[75] Above the embouchure of the Missouri, fifteen hundred
miles from the Mexican gulf, it is broader than at New-Orleans, with
scarce one tenth of its waters; and at the foot of St. Anthony's Falls
its breadth is but one third less. This forms a striking
characteristic of the Western rivers, and owes, perhaps, its origin
partially to the turbid character of their waters: as they approach
their outlet they augment in volume, and depth, and impetuosity of
current, but contract their expanse. None, however, exhibit these
features so strikingly as the grand central stream; and while, for its
body of water, it is the narrowest stream known, it is charged with
heavier solutions and has broader alluvions than any other. The depth
of the stream is constantly varying. At New-Orleans it exceeds one
hundred feet. Its width is from half of one mile to two miles; the
breadth of its valley {81} from six miles to sixty; the rapidity of
its current from two miles to four; its mean descent six inches in a
mile, and its annual floods vary from twelve feet to sixty, commencing
in March and ending in May. Thus much for Statistics.
Below its confluence with its turbid tributary, the Mississippi, as
has been observed, is no longer the clear, pure, limpid stream,
gushing forth from the wreathy snows of the Northwest; but it whirls
along against its ragged banks a resistless volume of heavy, sweeping
floods, and its aspect of placid magnificence is beheld no more. The
turbid torrent heaves onward, wavering from side to side like a living
creature, as if to overleap its bounds; rolling along in a deep-cut
race-path, through a vast expanse of lowland meadow, from whose
exhaustless mould are reared aloft those enormous shafts shrouded in
the fresh emerald of their tasselled parasites, for which its alluvial
bottoms are so famous. And yet the valley of the "endless river"
cannot be deemed heavily timbered when contrasted with the forested
hills of the Ohio. The sycamore, the elm, the linden, the cotton-wood,
the cypress, and other trees of deciduous foliage, may attain a
greater diameter, but the huge trunks are more sparse and more
isolated in recurrence.
But one of the most striking phenomena of the Mississippi, in common
with all the Western rivers, and one which distinguishes them from
those which disembogue their waters into the Atlantic, is the
uniformity of its meanderings. The river, in its onward course, makes
a semicircular sweep almost {82} with the precision of a compass, and
then is precipitated diagonally athwart its channel to a curve of
equal regularity upon the opposite shore. The deepest channel and most
rapid current is said to exist in the bend; and thus the stream
generally infringes upon the _bend-side_, and throws up a sandbar on
the shore opposite. So constantly do these sinuosities recur, that
there are said to be but three _reaches_ of any extent between the
confluence of the Ohio and the Gulf, and so uniform that the boatmen
and Indians have been accustomed to estimate their progress by the
number of bends rather than by the number of miles. One of the sweeps
of the Missouri is said to include a distance of forty miles in its
curve, and a circuit of half that distance is not uncommon. Sometimes
a "_cut-off_," in the parlance of the watermen, is produced at these
bends, where the stream, in its headlong course, has burst through the
narrow neck of the peninsula, around which it once circled. At a point
called the "Grand Cut-off," steamers now pass through an isthmus of
less than one mile, where formerly was required a circuit of twenty.
The current, in its more furious stages, often tears up islands from
the bed of the river, removes sandbars and points, and sweeps off
whole acres of alluvion with their superincumbent forests. In the
season of flood the settlers, in their log-cabins along the banks, are
often startled from their sleep by the deep, sullen crash of a
"land-slip," as such removals are called.
The scenery of the Mississippi, below its confluence {83} with the
Missouri, is, as has been remarked, too sublime for beauty; and yet
there is not a little of the picturesque in the views which meet the
eye along the banks. Towns and settlements of greater or less extent
appear at frequent intervals; and then the lowly log-hut of the
pioneer is not to be passed without notice, standing beneath the tall,
branchless columns of the girdled forest-trees, with its luxuriant
maize-fields sweeping away in the rear. One of these humble
habitations of the wilderness we reached, I remember, one evening near
twilight; and while our boat was delayed at the woodyard, I strolled
up from the shore to the gateway, and entered easily into
confabulation with a pretty, slatternly-looking female, with a brood
of mushroom, flaxen-haired urchins at her apron-string, and an infant
at the breast very quietly receiving his supper. On inquiry I learned
that eighteen years had seen the good woman a denizen of the
wilderness; that all the responsibilities appertained unto herself,
and that her "man" was proprietor of some thousand acres of _bottom_
in the vicinity. Subsequently I was informed that the worthy
woodcutter could be valued at not less than one hundred thousand! yet,
_en verite_, reader mine, I do asseverate that my latent sympathies
were not slightly roused at the first introduction, because of the
seeming poverty of the dirty cabin and its dirtier mistress!
_St. Louis._
VIII
"Once more upon the waters, yet once more!"
_Childe Harold._
"I believe this is the finest confluence in the world."
CHARLEVOIX.
"'Tis twilight now;
The sovereign sun behind his western hills
In glory hath declined."
BLACKWOOD'S _Magazine_.
A bright, sunny summer morning as ever smiled from the blue heavens,
and again I found myself upon the waters. Fast fading in the distance
lay the venerable little city of the French, with its ancient edifices
and its narrow streets, while in anticipation was a journeying of some
hundred miles up the Illinois. Sweeping along past the city and the
extended line of steamers at the landing, my attention was arrested by
that series of substantial stone mills situated upon the shore
immediately above, and a group of swarthy little Tritons disporting
themselves in the turbid waters almost beneath our paddle-wheels.
Among other singular objects were divers of those nondescript
inventions of Captain Shreve, yclept by the boatmen "Uncle Sam's
Tooth-pullers;" and, judging from their ferocious physiognomy, and the
miracles they have effected in the navigation of the great waters of
the West, well do they correspond to the _soubriquet_. {85} The craft
consists of two perfect hulls, constructed with a view to great
strength; united by heavy beams, and, in those parts most exposed,
protected by an armature of iron. The apparatus for eradicating the
snags is comprised in a simple wheel and axle, auxiliary to a pair of
powerful steam-engines, with the requisite machinery for locomotion,
and a massive beam uniting the bows of the hulls, sheathed with iron.
The _modus operandi_ in tearing up a snag, or sawyer, or any like
obstruction from the bed of the stream, appears to be this:
Commencing at some distance below, in order to gain an impetus as
powerful as possible, the boat is forced, under a full pressure of
steam, against the snag, the head of which, rearing itself above the
water, meets the strong transverse beam of which I have spoken, and is
immediately elevated a number of feet above the surface. A portion of
the log is then severed, and the roots are torn out by the windlass,
or application of the main strength of the engines; or, if
practicable, the first operation is repeated until the obstacle is
completely eradicated. The efficiency of this instrument has been
tested by the removal of some thousand obstructions, at an average
expense of about twelve or fifteen dollars each.
Along the river-banks in the northern suburbs of the city lie the
scattered ruins of an ancient fortification of the Spanish government,
when it held domination over the territory; and one circular structure
of stone, called "Roy's Tower," now occupied as a dwelling, yet
remains entire. There is also an {86} old castle of stone in tolerable
preservation, surrounded by a wall of the same material.[76] Some of
these venerable relics of former time--alas! for the irreverence of
the age--have been converted into limekilns, and into lime itself, for
aught that is known to the contrary! The waterworks, General Ashley's
beautiful residence, and that series of ancient mounds for which St.
Louis is famous, were next passed in succession, while upon the right
stretched out the long low outline of "Blood Island" in the middle of
the stream.[77] For several miles above the city, as we proceeded up
the river, pleasant villas, with their white walls and cultivated
grounds, were caught from time to time by the eye, glancing through
the green foliage far in the interior. It was a glorious day. Silvery
cloudlets were floating along the upper sky like spiritual creations,
and a fresh breeze was rippling the waters: along the banks stood out
the huge spectral Titans of the forest, heaving aloft their naked
limbs like monuments of "time departed," while beneath reposed the
humble hut and clearing of the settler.
It was nearly midday, after leaving St. Louis, that we reached the
embouchure of the Missouri. Twenty miles before attaining that point,
the confluent streams flow along in two distinct currents upon either
shore, the one white, clayey, and troubled, the other a deep blue. The
river sweeps along, indeed, in two distinct streams past the city of
St. Louis, upon either side of Blood Island, nor does it unite its
heterogeneous floods for many miles below. At intervals, as the huge
mass rolls itself {87} along, vast whirls and swells of turbid water
burst out upon the surface, producing an aspect not unlike the sea in
a gusty day, mottled by the shadows of scudding clouds.
Charlevoix,[78] the chronicler of the early French explorations in
North America, with reference to this giant confluence, more than a
century since thus writes: "I believe this is the finest confluence in
the world. The two rivers are much of the same breadth, each about
half a league, but the Missouri is by far the most rapid, and seems to
enter the Mississippi like a conqueror, through which it carries its
white waves to the opposite shore without mixing them. Afterward it
gives its colour to the Mississippi, which it never loses again, but
carries quite down to the sea." This account, with all due
consideration for the venerable historian, accords not precisely with
the scene of the confluence at the present day, at least not as it has
appeared to myself. The Missouri, indeed, rolls in its heavy volume
with the impetuosity and bearing of a "conqueror" upon the tranquil
surface of its rival; but entering, as it does, at right angles, its
waters are met in their headlong course, and almost rolled back upon
themselves for an instant by the mighty momentum of the flood they
strike. This is manifested by, and accounts for, that well-defined
line of light mud-colour extending from bank to bank across its mouth,
bounded by the dark blue of the Upper Mississippi, and flowing
sluggishly along in a lengthened and dingy stain, like a fringe upon
the western shore. The breadth of the embouchure is about one mile,
and its {88} channel lies nearly in the centre, bounded by vast
sand-bars--sediment of the waters--upon either side. The alluvial
deposites, with which it is heavily charged, accumulate also in
several islands near the confluence, while the rivers united spread
themselves out into an immense lake. As the steamer glides along among
these islands opposite the Missouri, the scene with its associations
is grand beyond description. Far up the extended vista of the stream,
upon a lofty bluff, stands out a structure which marks the site of the
ancient military post of "Belle Fontaine;"[79] while on the opposite
bank, stretching inland from the point heavily wooded, lies the broad
and beautiful prairie of the "Mamelles."[80] Directly fronting the
confluence stand a range of heights upon the Illinois shore, from the
summit of which is spread out, like a painting, one of the most
extraordinary views in the world.
The Mississippi, above its junction with its turbid tributary, is, as
has been remarked, a clear, sparkling, beautiful stream; now flashing
in silvery brilliance over its white sand-bars, then retreating far
into the deep indentations of its shady banks, and again spreading out
its waters into a tranquil, lakelike basin miles in extent, studded
with islets.
The far-famed village of Alton, situated upon the Illinois shore a few
miles above the confluence, soon rose before us in the distance. When
its multiform declivities shall have been smoothed away by the hand of
enterprise and covered with handsome edifices, it will doubtless
present a fine appearance {89} from the water; as it now remains, its
aspect is rugged enough. The Penitentiary, a huge structure of stone,
is rather too prominent a feature in the scene. Indeed, it is the
first object which strikes the attention, and reminds one of a gray
old baronial castle of feudal days more than of anything else. The
churches, of which there are several, and the extensive warehouses
along the shore, have an imposing aspect, and offer more agreeable
associations. As we drew nigh to Alton, the fireman of our steamer
deemed proper, in testimonial of the dignity of our arrival, to let
off a certain rusty old swivel which chanced to be on board; and to
have witnessed the marvellous fashion in which this important
manoeuvre was executed by our worthies, would have pardoned a smile
on the visage of Heraclitus himself. One lanky-limbed genius held a
huge dipper of gunpowder; another, seizing upon the extremity of a
hawser, and severing a generous fragment, made use thereof for
wadding; a third rammed home the charge with that fearful weapon
wherewith he poked the furnaces; while a fourth, honest wight--all
preparation being complete--advanced with a shovel of glowing coals,
which, poured upon the touchhole, the old piece was briefly delivered
of its charge, and the woods, and shores, and welkin rang again to the
roar. If we made not our entrance into Alton with "pomp and
circumstance," it was surely the fault of any one but our worthy
fireman.
The site of Alton, at the confluence of three large and navigable
streams; its extensive back country {90} of great fertility; the vast
bodies of heavy timber on every side; its noble quarries of stone; its
inexhaustible beds of bituminous coal only one mile distant, and its
commodious landing, all seem to indicate the design of Nature that
here should arise a populous and wealthy town. The place has been laid
off by its proprietors in liberal style; five squares have been
reserved for public purposes, with a promenade and landing, and the
corporate bounds extend two miles along the river, and half a mile
into the interior. Yet Alton, with all its local and artificial
advantages, is obnoxious to objections. Its situation, in one section
abrupt and precipitous, while in another depressed and confined, and
the extensive alluvion lying between the two great rivers opposite, it
is believed, will always render it more or less unhealthy; and its
unenviable proximity to St. Louis will never cease to retard its
commercial advancement.
The _city_ of Alton, as it is now styled by its charter, was founded
in the year 1818 by a gentleman who gave the place his name;[81] but,
until within the six years past, it could boast but few houses and
little business. Its population now amounts to several thousands, and
its edifices for business, private residence, or public convenience
are large and elegant structures. Its stone churches present an
imposing aspect to the visiter. The streets are from forty to eighty
feet in width, and extensive operations are in progress to render the
place as uniform as its site will admit. A contract has been recently
entered upon to construct a culvert over the Little Piasa Creek, {91}
which passes through the centre of the town, upon which are to be
extended streets. The expense is estimated at sixty thousand dollars.
The creek issues from a celebrated fountain among the bluffs called
"Cave Spring." Alton is not a little celebrated for its liberal
contribution to the moral improvements of the day. To mention but a
solitary instance, a gentleman of the place recently made a donation
of ten thousand dollars for the endowment of a female seminary at
Monticello,[82] a village five miles to the north; and measures are in
progress to carry the design into immediate execution. Two railroads
are shortly to be constructed from Alton; one to Springfield, seventy
miles distant, and the other to Mount Carmel on the Wabash. The stock
of each has been mostly subscribed, and they cannot fail, when
completed, to add much to the importance of the places. Alton is also
a _proposed_ terminus of two of the state railroads, and of the
Cumberland Road.[83]
At Alton terminates the "American Bottom," and here commences that
singular series of green, grassy mounds, rounding off the steep
summits of the cliffs as they rise from the water, which every
traveller cannot but have noticed and admired. It was a calm,
beautiful evening when we left the village; and, gliding beneath the
magnificent bluffs, held our way up the stream, breaking in upon its
tranquil surface, and rolling its waters upon either side in
tumultuous waves to the shore. The rich purple of departing day was
dying the western heavens; the light gauzy haze of twilight was
unfolding itself like a veil over the forest-tops; "Maro's shepherd
{92} star" was stealing timidly forth upon the brow of night; the
flashing fireflies along the underbrush were beginning their splendid
illuminations, and the mild melody of a flute and a few fine voices
floating over the shadowy waters, lent the last touching to a scene of
beauty. A little French village, with its broad galleries, and steep
roofs, and venerable church, in a few miles appeared among the
underbrush on the left.[84] Upon the opposite shore the bluffs began
to assume a singular aspect, as if the solid mass of limestone high up
had been subjected to the excavation of rushing waters. The cliffs
elevated themselves from the river's edge like a regular succession of
enormous pillars, rendered more striking by their ashy hue. This giant
colonnade--in some places exceeding an altitude of an hundred feet,
and exhibiting in its façade the openings of several caves--extended
along the stream until we reached Grafton,[85] at the mouth of the
Illinois; the calm, beautiful, ever-placid Illinois; beautiful now as
on the day the enthusiast voyageur first deemed it the pathway to a
"paradise upon earth." The moon was up, and her beams were resting
mellowly upon the landscape. Far away, even to the blue horizon, the
mirror-surface of the stream unfolded its vistas to the eye; upon its
bosom slumbered the bright islets, like spirits of the waters, from
whose clear depths stood out the reflection of their forests, while to
the left opened upon the view a glimpse of the "Mamelle Prairie,"
rolling its bright waves of verdure beneath the moonlight like a field
of fairy land. For an hour we gazed upon this magnificent scene, and
the bright {93} waves dashed in sparkles from our bow, retreating in
lengthened wake behind us, until our steamer turned from the
Mississippi, and we were gliding along beneath the deep shadows of the
forested Illinois.
_Illinois River._
IX
"A tale of the times of old! The deeds of days of other years!"
OSSIAN.
"Thou beautiful river! Thy bosom is calm
And o'er thee soft breezes are shedding their balm;
And Nature beholds her fair features portray'd,
In the glass of thy bosom serenely display'd."
BENGAL ANNUAL.
"Tam saw an unco sight."
BURNS.
It is an idea which has more than once occurred to me, while throwing
together these hasty delineations of the beautiful scenes through
which, for the past few weeks, I have been moving, that, by some, a
disposition might be suspected to tinge every outline indiscriminately
with the "_coleur de rose_." But as well might one talk of an
exaggerated emotion of the sublime on the table-rock of Niagara, or
amid the "snowy scalps" of Alpine scenery, or of a mawkish sensibility
to loveliness amid the purple glories of the "_Campagna di Roma_," as
of either, or of both combined, in the noble "valley beyond the
mountains." Nor is the interest experienced {94} by the traveller for
many of the spots he passes confined to their scenic beauty. The
associations of by-gone times are rife in the mind, and the
traditionary legend of the events these scenes have witnessed yet
lingers among the simple forest-sons. I have mentioned that remarkable
range of cliffs commencing at Alton, and extending, with but little
interruption, along the left shore of the Mississippi to the mouth of
the Illinois. Through a deep, narrow ravine in these bluffs flows a
small stream called the Piasa. The name is of aboriginal derivation,
and, in the idiom of the Illini, denotes "_The bird that devours
men_." Near the mouth of this little stream rises a bold, precipitous
bluff, and upon its smooth face, at an elevation seemingly
unattainable by human art, is graven the figure of an enormous bird
with extended pinions. This bird was by the Indians called the
"_Piasa_;" hence the name of the stream. The tradition of the Piasa is
said to be still extant, among the tribes of the Upper Mississippi,
and is thus related:[86]
"Many thousand moons before the arrival of the pale faces, when the
great megalonyx and mastodon, whose bones are now thrown up, were
still living in the land of the green prairies, there existed a bird
of such dimensions that he could easily carry off in his talons a
full-grown deer. Having obtained a taste of human flesh, from that
time he would prey upon nothing else. He was as artful as he was
powerful; would dart suddenly and unexpectedly upon an Indian, bear
him off to one of the caves in the bluff, and devour him. Hundreds of
warriors attempted for years to destroy him, but without success. {95}
Whole villages were depopulated, and consternation spread throughout
all the tribes of the Illini. At length _Owatoga_, a chief whose fame
as a warrior extended even beyond the great lakes, separating himself
from the rest of his tribe, fasted in solitude for the space of a
whole moon, and prayed to the Great Spirit, the Master of Life, that
he would protect his children from the _Piasa_. On the last night of
his fast the Great Spirit appeared to him in a dream, and directed him
to select twenty of his warriors, each armed with a bow and pointed
arrows, and conceal them in a designated spot. Near the place of their
concealment another warrior was to stand in open view as a victim for
the _Piasa_, which they must shoot the instant he pounced upon his
prey. When the chief awoke in the morning he thanked the Great Spirit,
returned to his tribe, and told them his dream. The warriors were
quickly selected and placed in ambush. _Owatoga_ offered himself as
the victim, willing to die for his tribe; and, placing himself in open
view of the bluff, he soon saw the _Piasa_ perched on the cliff, eying
his prey. _Owatoga_ drew up his manly form to its utmost height; and,
placing his feet firmly upon the earth, began to chant the death-song
of a warrior: a moment after, the _Piasa_ rose in the air, and, swift
as a thunderbolt, darted down upon the chief. Scarcely had he reached
his victim when every bow was sprung and every arrow was sped to the
feather into his body. The _Piasa_ uttered a wild, fearful scream,
that resounded far over the opposite side of the river, and expired.
_Owatoga_ was safe. {96} Not an arrow, not even the talons of the bird
had touched him; for the Master of Life, in admiration of his noble
deed, had held over him an invisible shield. In memory of this event,
this image of the Piasa was engraved in the face of the bluff."
Such is the Indian tradition. True or false, the figure of the bird,
with expanded wings, graven upon the surface of solid rock, is still
to be seen at a height perfectly inaccessible; and to this day no
Indian glides beneath the spot in his canoe without discharging at
this figure his gun. Connected with this tradition, as the spot to
which the Piasa conveyed his human victims, is one of those caves to
which I have alluded. Another, near the mouth of the Illinois,
situated about fifty feet from the water, and exceedingly difficult of
access, is said to be crowded with human remains to the depth of many
feet in the earth of the floor. The roof of the cavern is vaulted. It
is about twenty-five feet in height, thirty in length, and in form is
very irregular. There are several other cavernous fissures among these
cliffs not unworthy description.
The morning's dawn found our steamer gliding quietly along upon the
bright waters of the Illinois. The surface of the stream was tranquil;
not a ripple disturbed its slumbers; it was currentless; the mighty
mass of the Mississippi was swollen, and, acting as a dam across the
mouth of its tributary, caused a _back-water_ of an hundred miles. The
waters of the Illinois were consequently stagnant, tepid, and by no
means agreeable to the taste. There was present, also, a peculiarly
bitter twang, {97} thought to be imparted by the roots of the trees
and plants along its banks, which, when motionless, its waters steep;
under these circumstances, water is always provided from the
Mississippi before entering the mouth of the Illinois. But, whatever
its qualities, this stream, to the eye, is one of the most beautiful
that meanders the earth. As we glided onward upon its calm bosom, a
graceful little fawn, standing upon the margin in the morning
sunlight, was bending her large, lustrous eyes upon the delicate
reflection of her form, mirrored in the stream; and, like the fabled
Narcissus, so enamoured did she appear with the charm of her own
loveliness, that our noisy approach seemed scarce to startle her; or
perchance she was the pet of some neighbouring log-cabin. The Illinois
is by many considered the "_belle rivière_" of the Western waters,
and, in a commercial and agricultural view, is destined, doubtless, to
occupy an important rank. Tonti, the old French chronicler, speaks
thus of it:[87] "The banks of that river are as charming to the eye as
useful to life; the meadows, fruit-trees, and forests affording
everything that is necessary for men and beasts." It traverses the
entire length of one of the most fertile regions in the Union, and
irrigates, by its tributary streams, half the breadth. Its channel is
sufficiently deep for steamers of the larger class; its current is
uniform, and the obstacles to its navigation are few, and may be
easily removed. The chief of these is a narrow bar just below the town
of Beardstown,[88] stretching like a wing-dam quite across to the
western bank; and any boat which may pass this bar {98} can at all
times reach the port of the Rapids. Its length is about three hundred
miles, and its narrowest part, opposite Peru, is about eighty yards in
width. By means of a canal, uniting its waters with those of Lake
Michigan, the internal navigation of the whole country from New-York
to New-Orleans is designed to be completed.[89]
The banks of the Illinois are depressed and monotonous, liable at all
seasons to inundation, and stretch away for miles to the bluffs in
broad prairies, glimpses of whose lively emerald and silvery lakes,
caught at intervals through the dark fringe of cypress skirting the
stream, are very refreshing. The bottom lands upon either side, from
one mile to five, are seldom elevated much above the ordinary surface
of the stream, and are at every higher stage of water submerged to the
depth of many feet, presenting the appearance of a stream rolling its
tide through an ancient and gloomy forest, luxuriant in foliage and
vast in extent. It is not surprising that all these regions should be
subject to the visitations of disease, when we look upon the miserable
cabin of the woodcutter, reared upon the very verge of the water,
surrounded on every side by swamps, and enveloped in their damp dews
and the poisonous exhalations rising from the seething decomposition
of the monstrous vegetation around. The traveller wonders not at the
sallow complexion, the withered features, and the fleshless,
ague-racked limbs, which, as he passes, peep forth upon him from the
luxuriant foliage of this region of sepulchres; his only astonishment
is, that in such an atmosphere the human constitution {99} can
maintain vitality at all. And yet, never did the poet's dream image
scenery more enchanting than is sometimes unfolded upon this beautiful
stream. I loved, on a bright sunny morning, to linger hours away upon
the lofty deck, as our steamer thridded the green islets of the
winding waters, and gaze upon the reflection of the blue sky flecked
with cloudlets in the bluer wave beneath, and watch the startling
splash of the glittering fish, as, in exhilarated joyousness, he flung
himself from its tranquil bosom, and then fell back again into its
cool depths. Along the shore strode the bluebacked wader; the wild
buck bounded to his thicket; the graceful buzzard--vulture of the
West--soared majestically over the tree-tops, while the fitful chant
of the fireman at his toil echoed and re-echoed through the recesses
of the forests.
Upon the left, in ascending the Illinois, lie the lands called the
"_Military Bounty Tract_," reserved by Congress for distribution among
the soldiers of the late war with Great Britain.[90] It is
comprehended within the peninsula of the Illinois and Mississippi
Rivers, about an hundred and seventy miles in length and sixty broad,
embracing twelve of the northwest counties of the state. This tract of
country is said to be exceedingly fertile, abounding in beautiful
prairies and lakes; but the delta or alluvial regions cannot but prove
unhealthy. Its disposition for the purpose of military bounties has
retarded its settlement behind that of any other quarter of the state;
a very inconsiderable portion has been appropriated by the soldiers;
most of the titles have {100} long since departed, and the land has
been disposed of past redemption for taxes. Much is also held by
non-residents, who estimate it at an exorbitant value; but large
tracts can be obtained for a trifling consideration, the purchaser
risking the title, and many flourishing settlements are now springing
up, especially along the Mississippi.
Near the southern extremity of the Military Tract, at a point where
the river sweeps out a deep bend from its western bank, about fifty
years since was situated the little French village of _Cape au Gris_,
or Grindstone Point, so named from the neighbouring rocks. The French
seem to have vied with the natives in rendering the "signification"
conformable to the "thing signified," in bestowing names upon their
explorations in the West. The village of _Cape au Gris_ was situated
upon the bank of the river, and, so late as 1811, consisted of twenty
or thirty families, who cultivated a "common field" of five hundred
acres on the adjacent prairie, stretching across the peninsula towards
the Mississippi. At the commencement of the late war they were driven
away by the savages, and a small garrison from the cantonment of Belle
Fontaine, at the confluence, was subsequently stationed near the spot
by General Wilkinson. A few years after the close of the war American
emigration commenced. This is supposed to have been the site, also, of
one of the forts erected by La Salle on his second visit to the
West.[91]
As we ascended the Illinois, flourishing villages were constantly
meeting the eye upon either bank of the stream. Among these were the
euphonious {101} names of Monroe, Montezuma, Naples, and Havana! At
Beardstown the rolling prairie is looked upon for the first time; it
afterward frequently recurs. As our steamer drew nigh to the renowned
little city of Pekin, we beheld the bluffs lined with people of all
sexes and sizes, watching our approach as we rounded up to the
landing.[92] Some of our passengers, surprised at such a gathering
together in such a decent, well-behaved little settlement as Pekin,
sagely surmised the loss of a day from the calendar, and began to
believe it the first instead of the last of the week, until reflection
and observation induced the belief that other rites than those of
religion had called the multitude together. Landing, streets, tavern,
and groceries--which latter, be it spoken of the renowned Pekin, were
like anything but "angel's visits" in recurrence--all were swarmed by
a motley assemblage, seemingly intent upon _doing nothing_, and that,
too, in the noisiest way. Here a congregation of keen-visaged
worthies were gathered around a loquacious land-speculator, beneath
the shadow of a sign-post, listening to an eloquent holding-forth upon
the merits, relative and distinctive, of prairie land and bluff; there
a cute-looking personage, with a twinkle of the eye and
sanctimoniousness of phiz, was vending his wares by the token of a
flaunting strip of red baize; while lusty viragoes, with infants at
the breast, were battering their passage through the throng, crowing
over a "bargain" on which the "cute" pedler had cleared not _more_
than cent. per cent. And then there were sober men and men not sober;
individuals half seas over and whole seas {102} over, all in as merry
trim as well might be; while, as a sort of presiding genius over the
bacchanal, a worthy wag, tipsy as a satyr, in a long calico gown, was
prancing through the multitude, with infinite importance, on the
skeleton of an unhappy horse, which, between _nicking_ and _docking_,
a spavined limb and a spectral eye, looked the veritable genius of
misery. The cause of all this commotion appeared to be neither more
nor less than a redoubted "monkey show," which had wound its way over
the mountains into the regions of the distant West, and reared its
dingy canvass upon the smooth sward of the prairie. It was a spectacle
by no means to be slighted, and "divers came from afar" to behold its
wonders.
For nothing, perhaps, have foreign tourists in our country ridiculed
us more justly than for that pomposity of nomenclature which we have
delighted to apply to the thousand and one towns and villages
sprinkled over our maps and our land; instance whereof this same
renowned representative of the Celestial Empire concerning which I
have been writing. Its brevity is its sole commendation; for as to the
taste or appropriateness of such a name for such a place, to say
naught of the euphony, there's none. And then, besides Pekin, there
are Romes, and Troys, and Palmyras, and Belgrades, Londons and
Liverpools, Babels and Babylons _without account_, all rampant in the
glories of log huts, with sturdy porkers forth issuing from their
sties, by way, doubtless, of the sturdy knight-errants of yore
caracoling from the sally-ports of their illustrious {103} namesakes.
But why, in the name of all propriety, this everlasting plagiarizing
of the Greek, Gothic, Gallic patronymics of the Old World, so utterly
incongruous as applied to the backwoods settlements of the New! If in
very poverty of invention, or in the meagerness of our "land's
language," we, as a people, feel ourselves unequal to the task--one,
indeed, of no ordinary magnitude--of christening all the newborn
villages of our land with melodious and appropriate appellations,
may it not be advisable either to nominate certain worthy
dictionary-makers for the undertaking, or else to retain the ancient
Indian names? Why discard the smooth-flowing, expressive appellations
bestowed by the injured aborigines upon the gliding streams and
flowery plains of this land of their fathers, only to supersede them
by affixes most foreign and absurd? "Is this proceeding just and
honourable" towards that unfortunate race? Have we visited them with
so _many_ returns of kindness that this would overflow the cup of
recompense? Why tear away the last and only relic of the past yet
lingering in our midst? Have we too many memorials of the olden time?
Why disrobe the venerable antique of that classic drapery which alone
can befit the severe nobility of its mien, only to deck it out in the
starched and tawdry preciseness of a degenerate taste?
_Illinois River._
X
"It is a goodly sight to see
What Heaven hath done for this delicious land!
What fruits of fragrance blush on every tree!
What goodly prospects o'er the hills expand!"
_Childe Harold._
"Good-evening, sir; a good-evening to ye, sir; pleased with our
village, sir!" This was the frank and free salutation a genteel,
farmer-looking personage, with a broad face, a broad-brimmed hat, and
a broad-skirted coat, addressed to me as I stood before the inn door
at Peoria, looking out upon her beautiful lake. On learning, in reply
to his inquiry, "Whence do ye come, stranger?" that my birth spot was
north of the Potomac, he hailed me with hearty greeting and warm grasp
as a brother. "I am a Yankee, sir; yes, sir, I am a genuine export of
the old 'Bay State.' Many years have gone since I left her soil; but I
remember well the 'Mistress of the North,' with her green islands and
blue waters. In my young days, sir, I wandered all over the six
states, and I have not forgotten the valley of the Connecticut. I have
seen the 'Emporium' with her Neapolitan bay, and I have looked on the
'city of the monuments and fountains;' but in all my journeyings,
stranger, I have not found a spot so pleasant as this little quiet
Peoria of the Western wilderness!" Whether to smile in admiration
{105} or to smile at the oddity of this singular compound of truth and
exaggeration, propounded, withal, in such grandiloquent style and
language, I was at a loss; and so, just as every prudent man would
have acted under the circumstances, _neither_ was done; and the quiet
remark, "You are an enthusiast, sir," was all that betrayed to the
worthy man the emotions of the sublime and ridiculous of which he had
been the unwitting cause.
But, truly, the little town with this soft Indian name is a beautiful
place, as no one who has ever visited it has failed to remark. The
incidents of its early history are fraught with the wild and romantic.
The old village of Peoria was one of the earliest settlements of the
French in the Mississippi Valley; and, many years before the memory of
the present generation, it had been abandoned by its founders, a new
village having been erected upon the present site, deemed less
unhealthy than the former. The first house is said to have been built
in new Peoria, or _La ville de Maillet_, as was its _nom de nique_,
about the year 1778; and the situation was directly at the outlet of
the lake, one mile and a half below the old settlement.[93] Its
inhabitants consisted chiefly of that wild, semi-savage race of Indian
traders, hunters, trappers, voyageurs, _couriers du bois_, and
half-breeds, which long formed the sole link of union between the
northern lakes and the southwest. After residing nearly half a
century on this pleasant spot, in that happy harmony with their
ferocious neighbours for which the early French were so remarkable,
they were at length, in the {106} autumn of 1812, exiled from their
ancient home by the militia of Illinois, on charge of conniving at
Indian atrocities upon our people, a party having been fired on at
night while anchored before the village in their boats. The villagers
fled for refuge to their friends upon the Mississippi. In the autumn
of the succeeding year, General Howard,[94] with 1400 men, ascended
the Illinois; a fortress was constructed at Peoria in twelve days from
timber cut on the opposite side of the lake. It was named Fort Clarke,
and was occupied by a detachment of United States' troops. In course
of a few weeks the whole frontier was swept of hostile Indians. On the
termination of hostilities with Great Britain the fort was abandoned,
and soon after was burned by the Indians, though the ruins are yet to
be seen. The present settlement was commenced by emigrants but a few
years since, and has advanced with a rapidity scarcely paralleled even
in the West. Geographically, it is the centre of the state, and may at
some future day become its seat of government. It is the shire town of
a county of the same name; has a handsome courthouse of freestone; the
neighbouring regions are fertile, and beds of bituminous coal are
found in the vicinity. These circumstances render this spot, than
which few can boast a more eventful history, one of the most eligible
_locales_ in the state for the emigrant.
Its situation is indescribably beautiful, extending along the lake of
the same name, the Indian name of which was _Pinatahwee_, for several
miles from its outlet. This water-sheet, which is little more than an
expansion of the stream of from one to three miles, stretches away for
about twenty, and is divided near its middle by a contraction called
the _Narrows_. Its waters are exceedingly limpid, gliding gently over
a pebbly bottom, and abounding in fish of fifty different species,
from which an attempt for obtaining oil on a large scale was commenced
a few years since, but was abandoned without success. Some of the
varieties of these fish are said to be rare and curious. Several
specimens of a species called the "Alligator Garr" have been taken.
The largest was about seven feet in length, a yard in circumference,
and encased in armour of hornlike scales of quadrilateral form,
impenetrable to a rifle-ball. The weight was several hundred pounds;
the form and the teeth--of which there were several rows--similar to
those of the shark, and, upon the whole, the creature seemed not a
whit less formidable. Another singular variety found is the
"spoonfish," about four feet in length, with a black skin, and an
extension of the superior mandible for two feet, of a thin, flat,
shovel-like form, used probably for digging its food. The more
ordinary species, pike, perch, salmon, trout, buffalo, mullet, and
catfish, abound in the lake, while the surface is covered with geese,
ducks, gulls, a species of water turkey, and, not unfrequently, swans
and pelicans. Its bottom contains curious petrifactions and carnelions
of a rare quality.
From the pebbly shore of the lake, gushing out with fountains of
sparkling water along its whole extent, rises a rolling bank, upon
which now stands most of the village. A short distance and you ascend
a second eminence, and beyond this you reach {108} the bluffs, some of
them an hundred feet in height, gracefully rounded, and corresponding
with the meandering of the stream below. From the summit of these
bluffs the prospect is uncommonly fine. At their base is spread out a
beautiful prairie, its tall grass-tops and bright-died flowerets
nodding to the soft summer wind. Along its eastern border is extended
a range of neat edifices, while lower down sleep the calm, clear
waters of the lake, unruffled by a ripple, and reflecting from its
placid bosom the stupendous vegetation of the wooded alluvion beyond.
It was near the close of a day of withering sultriness that we reached
Peoria. Passing the Kickapoo, or Red Bud Creek,[95] a sweep in the
stream opened before the eye a panorama of that magnificent
water-sheet of which I have spoken, so calm and motionless that its
mirror surface seemed suspended in the golden mistiness of the summer
atmosphere which floated over it. As we were approaching the village a
few sweet notes of a bugle struck the ear; and in a few moments a
lengthened troop of cavalry, with baggage-cars and military
paraphernalia, was beheld winding over a distant roll of the prairie,
their arms glittering gayly in the horizontal beams of the sinking sun
as the ranks appeared, were lost, reappeared, and then, by an
inequality in the route, were concealed from the view. The steamer
"Helen Mar" was lying at the landing as we rounded up, most terribly
shattered by the collapsing of the flue of one of her boilers a few
days before in the vicinity. She had been swept by the death-blast
from one extremity {109} to the other, and everything was remaining
just as when the accident occurred, even to the pallets upon which had
been stretched the mangled bodies, and the remedies applied for their
relief. The disasters of steam have become, till of late, of such
ordinary occurrence upon the waters of the West, that they have been
thought of comparatively but little; yet in no aspect does the angel
of death perform his bidding more fearfully. Misery's own pencil can
delineate no scene of horror more revolting; humanity knows no
visitation more terrible! The atmosphere of hell envelops the victim
and sweeps him from the earth!
Happening casually to fall in with several gentlemen at the inn who
chanced to have some acquaintance with the detachment of dragoons I
have mentioned, I accepted with pleasure an invitation to accompany
them on a visit to the encampment a few miles from the town. The moon
was up, and was flinging her silvery veil over the landscape when we
reached the bivouac. It was a picturesque spot, a low prairie-bottom
on the margin of the lake, beneath a range of wooded bluffs in the
rear; and the little white tents sprinkled about upon the green
shrubbery beneath the trees; the stacks of arms and military
accoutrements piled up beneath or s
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