How Marcus Whitman Saved Oregon
by Oliver W. Nixon · English · Gutenberg #43369 · 447,296 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: How Marcus Whitman Saved Oregon
Author: Oliver W. Nixon
Release date: July 31, 2013 [eBook #43369]
Most recently updated: October 23, 2024
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOW MARCUS WHITMAN SAVED OREGON ***
Transcriber's Note:
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
The quote starting on page 19 with "If, however," has no end quote.
On page 177, "as he plead" should possibly be "as he pled."
The quote starting on page 215 with "Marcus Whitman" has no end
quote.
On page 287, "staid back" should possibly be "stayed back."
[Illustration: WHITMAN LEAVING HOME ON HIS WINTER RIDE TO SAVE
OREGON.]
How Marcus Whitman
Saved Oregon.
A TRUE ROMANCE OF PATRIOTIC HEROISM,
CHRISTIAN DEVOTION AND
FINAL MARTYRDOM....
WITH SKETCHES OF
Life on the Plains and Mountains in Pioneer Days
BY
OLIVER W. NIXON, M.D., LL.D.,
_For Seventeen Years President and Literary Editor
of the Chicago Inter Ocean_.
INTRODUCTION BY
Rev. Frank W. Gunsaulus, D.D., LL.D.
SECOND EDITION.
ILLUSTRATED.
STAR PUBLISHING COMPANY,
CHICAGO,
1895
Copyrighted, 1895, by Oliver W. Nixon.
(All rights reserved.)
DEDICATION.
TO THE BOYS AND GIRLS OF THE
Little Log School House on the Willamette,
NOW THE GRAY HAIRED MEN AND WOMEN OF OREGON, WASHINGTON, IDAHO AND
CALIFORNIA, TO WHOM I AM INDEBTED FOR A MULTITUDE OF PLEASING MEMORIES
WHICH HAVE BEEN UNDIMMED BY YEARS AND DISTANCE, I GRATEFULLY DEDICATE
THIS VOLUME.
PREFACE.
This little volume is not intended to be a history of Oregon missions
or even a complete biography of Dr. Whitman. Its aim is simply to
bring out, prominently, in a series of sketches, the heroism and
Christian patriotism of the man who rendered great and distinguished
service to his country, which has never been fully appreciated or
recognized.
In my historical facts I have tried to be correct and to give credit
to authorities where I could. I expect some of my critics will ask, as
they have in the past: "Who is your authority for this fact and that?"
I only answer, I don't know unless I am authority. In 1850 and 1851 I
was a teacher of the young men and maidens, and bright-eyed boys and
girls of the old pioneers of Oregon.
Many years ago I told the story of that school to Hezekiah
Butterworth, who made it famous in his idyllic romance, "The Log
School House on the Columbia." It was a time when history was being
made. The great tragedy at Waiilatpui was fresh in the minds of the
people. With such surroundings one comes in touch with the spirit of
history.
Later on, I was purser upon the Lot Whitcomb, the first steamer ever
built in Oregon, and came in contact with all classes of people. If I
have failed to interpret the history correctly, it is because I failed
to understand it. The sketches have been written in hours snatched
from pressing duties, and no claim is made of high literary
excellence. But if they aid the public, even in a small degree, to
better understand and appreciate the grand man whose remains rest in
his martyr's grave at Waiilatpui, unhonored by any monument, I shall
be amply compensated.
O. W. N.
CONTENTS.
Pages.
Introduction 11-14
CHAPTER I.
The Title of the United States to Oregon--The Hudson
Bay Company--The Louisiana Purchase 15-37
CHAPTER II.
English and American Opinion of the Value of the
Northwest Territory--The Neglect of American
Statesmen 38-49
CHAPTER III.
The Romance of the Oregon Mission 50-62
CHAPTER IV.
The Wedding Journey Across the Plains 63-82
CHAPTER V.
Mission Life at Waiilatpui 83-98
CHAPTER VI.
The Ride to Save Oregon 99-123
CHAPTER VII.
Whitman in the Presence of President Tyler and
Secretary of State Daniel Webster--The Return to
Oregon 124-164
CHAPTER VIII.
A Backward Look at Results 165-185
CHAPTER IX.
Change in Public Sentiment 186-200
CHAPTER X.
The Failure of Modern History to do Justice to Dr.
Whitman 201-216
CHAPTER XI.
The Massacre at Waiilatpui 217-237
CHAPTER XII.
Biographical--Dr. Whitman--Dr. McLoughlin 238-249
CHAPTER XIII.
Whitman Seminary and College 250-262
CHAPTER XIV.
Oregon Then, and Oregon, Washington and Idaho Now 263-276
CHAPTER XV.
Life on the Great Plains in Pioneer Days 277-304
Appendix 305-339
ILLUSTRATIONS.
Page.
1. Whitman Leaving Home on His Ride to Save
Oregon Frontispiece.
2. Falls of the Willamette 32
3. Map of Early Oregon and the West, Showing Whitman's
Route, etc. 41
4. Steamer Lot Whitcomb 56
5. Dr. Marcus Whitman 72
6. Mission Station at Waiilatpui 88
7. Mrs. Narcissa Prentice Whitman 104
8. Whitman Pleading for Oregon before President Tyler
and Secretary Webster 128
9. Rev. H. H. Spalding 144
10. Rev. Cushing Eells, D.D. 160
11. Whitman College 176
12. Whitman's Grave 224
13. Dr. John McLoughlin 248
14. Dr. Daniel K. Pearsons 264
15. Rev. S. B. L. Penrose, President of Whitman College 272
16. The Log School House on the Willamette 280
17. A. J. Anderson, Ph.D. 296
18. Rev. James F. Eaton, D.D. 296
19. Portraits of Flathead Indians Who Visited St. Louis 313
INTRODUCTION
BY
REV. FRANK W. GUNSAULUS, D.D.,
Pastor of Plymouth Church, and President of Armour Institute, Chicago.
Among the efforts at description which will associate themselves with
either our ignorance or our intelligence as to our own country, the
following words by our greatest orator, will always have their place:
"What do we want with the vast, worthless area, this
region of savages and wild beasts, of deserts, of shifting
sands and whirlwinds of dust, of cactus and prairie dogs?
To what use could we ever hope to put these great deserts,
or these endless mountain ranges, impenetrable, and
covered to their base with eternal snow? What can we ever
hope to do with the Western coast, a coast of three
thousand miles, rock-bound, cheerless, and uninviting, and
not a harbor on it? What use have we for such a country?
Mr. President, I will never vote one cent from the public
treasury to place the Pacific coast one inch nearer to
Boston than it is now."
Perhaps no words uttered in the United States Senate were ever more
certainly wide of their mark than these of Daniel Webster. In their
presence, the name of Marcus Whitman is a bright streak of light
penetrating a vague cloud-land. Washington, with finer prevision, had
said: "I shall not be contented until I have explored the Western
country." Even the Father of his Country did not understand the vast
realm to which he referred, nor had his mind any boundaries
sufficiently great to inclose that portion of the country which
Marcus Whitman preserved to the United States.
An interesting series of splendid happenings has united the ages of
history in heroic deeds, and this volume is a fitting testimonial of
the immense significance of one heroic deed in one heroic life. The
conservatism, which is always respectable and respected, had its
utterance in the copious eloquence of Daniel Webster; the radicalism,
which always goes to the root of every question, had its expression in
the answer which Whitman made to the great New Englander.
Even Daniel Webster, at a moment like this, seems less grand of
proportion than does the plain and poor missionary, with "a half pint
of seed wheat" in his hand, and words upon his lips which are an
enduring part of our history. Only a really illumined man, at that
hour, could fitly answer Senator McDuffie, when he said: "Do you think
your honest farmers in Pennsylvania, New York, or even Ohio and
Missouri, would abandon their farms and go upon any such enterprise as
this?" Whitman made answer by breaking the barrier of the Rockies with
his own courage and faith.
It may well be hoped that such a memorial as this may be adopted in
home and public library as a chapter in Americanism and its advance,
worthy to minister to the imagination and idealism of our whole
people. The heroism of the days to come, which we need, must grow out
of the heroism of the days that have been. The impulse to do and dare
noble things to-morrow, will grow strong from contemplating the memory
of such yesterdays.
This volume has suggested such a picture as will sometime be made as
a tribute to genius and the embodiment of highest art by some great
painter. The picture will represent the room in which the old heroic
missionary, having traveled over mountains and through deserts until
his clothing of fur was well-nigh worn from him, and his frame bowed
by anxiety and exposure, at that instant when the great Secretary and
orator said to him: "There cannot be made a wagon road over the
mountains; Sir George Simpson says so," whereat the intrepid pioneer
replied: "There is a wagon road, for I have made it."
What could be a more fitting memorial for such a man as this than a
Christian college called Whitman College? He was more to the ulterior
Northwest than John Harvard has ever been to the Northeast of our
common country. Nothing but such an institution may represent all the
ideas and inspirations which were the wealth of such a man's brain and
heart and his gift to the Republic. He was an _avant courier_ of the
truths on which alone republics and democracies may endure.
Whitman not only conducted the expedition of men and wagons to Oregon,
after President Tyler had made his promise that the bargain, which
Daniel Webster proposed, should not be made, but he led an expedition
of ideas and sentiments which have made the names Oregon, Washington
and Idaho synonymous with human progress, good government and
civilization. When the soldier-statesman of the Civil War, Col. Baker,
mentioned the name and memory of Marcus Whitman to Abraham Lincoln, he
did it with the utmost reverence for one of the founders of that
civilization which, in the far Northwest, has spread its influence
over so vast a territory to make the mines of California the resources
of freedom, and to bind the forests and plains with the destiny of the
Union.
When Thomas Starr King was most eloquent in his efforts to keep
California true to liberty and union, in that struggle of debate
before the Civil War opened, he worked upon the basis, made larger and
sounder by the fearless ambassador of Christian civilization. In an
hour when the mind of progress grows tired of the perpetual presence
of Napoleon, again clad in all his theatrical glamour before the eyes
of youth, we may well be grateful for this sketch of a sober
far-seeing man of loyal devotion to the great public ends; whose
unselfishness made him seem, even then, a startling figure at the
nation's capital; whose noble bearing, great faith, supreme courage,
and vision of the future, mark him as a genuine and typical American.
These hopes and inspirations are all enshrined in the educational
enterprise known as Whitman College. Every student of history must be
glad to recognize the fact that the history of which this book is the
chronicle, is also a prophecy, and that whatever may be the fate of
men's names or men's schemes in the flight of time, this college will
be a beacon, shining with the light of Marcus Whitman's heroism and
devotion.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER I.
THE TITLE OF THE UNITED STATES TO OREGON--THE HUDSON BAY COMPANY--THE
LOUISIANA PURCHASE
The home of civilization was originally in the far East, but its
journeys have forever been westward. The history of the world is a
great panorama, with its pictures constantly shifting and changing.
The desire for change and new fields early asserted itself. The human
family divided up under the law of selection and affinities, shaped
themselves into bands and nationalities, and started upon their
journey to people the world.
Two branches of the original stock remained as fixtures in Asia, while
half a dozen branches deployed and reached out for the then distant
and unexplored lands of the West. They reached Europe. The Gaul and
the Celt, the Teuton and Slav, ever onward in their march, reached and
were checked by the Atlantic that washed the present English, German
and Spanish coasts. The Latin, Greek and Illyrian were alike checked
by the Mediterranean. For a long period it seemed as if their journey
westward was ended; that they had reached their Ultima Thule; that the
western limit had been found.
For many centuries the millions rested in that belief, until the great
discoveries of 1492 awakened them to new dreams of western
possibilities. At once and under new incentives the westward march
began again. The States of the Atlantic were settled and the
wilderness subdued. No sooner was this but partially accomplished than
the same spirit, "the western fever," seized upon the people.
It seems to have been engrafted in the nature of man, as it is in the
nature of birds, to migrate. In caravan after caravan they pushed
their way over the Allegheny Mountains, invaded the rich valleys,
floated down the great rivers, gave battle to the savage inhabitants
and in perils many, and with discouragements sufficient to defeat less
heroic characters, they took possession of the now great States of the
Middle West. The country to be settled was so vast as to seem to our
fathers limitless. They had but little desire as a nation for further
expansion.
Up to the date of 1792, the Far West was an unexplored region. The
United States made no claim to any lands bordering upon the Pacific,
and the discovery made in the year 1792 was more accidental than
intentional, as far as the nation was concerned.
Captain Robert Gray, who made the discovery, was born in Tiverton, R.
I., 1755, and died at Charleston, S. C., in 1806. He was a famous
sailor, and was the first citizen who ever carried the American flag
around the globe. His vessel, The Columbia, was fitted out by a
syndicate of Boston merchants, with articles for barter for the
natives in Pacific ports. In his second great voyage in 1792 he
discovered the mouth of the Columbia river. There had been rumors of
such a great river through Spanish sources, and the old American
captain probably, mainly for the sake of barter and to get fresh
supplies, had his nautical eyes open.
Men see through a glass darkly and a wiser, higher power than man may
have guided the old explorer in safety over the dangerous bar, into
the great river he discovered and named. He was struck by the grandeur
and magnificence of the river as well as by the beauty of the country.
He at once christened it "The Columbia," the name of his good ship
which had already carried the American flag around the globe. He
sailed several miles up the river, landed and took possession in the
name of the United States.
It is a singular coincidence that both Spain and England had vessels
just at this time on this coast, hunting for the same river, and so
near together as to be in hailing distance of each other. Captain Gray
only a few days before had met Captain Vancouver, the Englishman, and
had spoken to him. Captain Vancouver had sailed over the very ground
passed over soon after by Gray, but failed to find the river. He had
noted, too, a change in the color of the waters, but it did not
sufficiently impress him to cause an investigation.
After Captain Gray had finished his exploration and gone to sea, he
again fell in with Vancouver and reported the result of his
discoveries. Vancouver immediately turned about, found the mouth of
the river, sailed up the Columbia to the rapids and up the Willamette
to near the falls.
In the conference between the English and Americans in 1827, which
resulted in the renewal of the treaty of 1818, while the British
commissioners acknowledged that Gray was first to discover and enter
the Columbia river, yet they demanded that "he should equally share
the honor with Captain Vancouver." They claimed that while Gray
discovered the mouth of the river, he only sailed up it a few miles,
while "Captain Vancouver made a full and complete discovery." One of
the authorities stated concisely that, "Captain Gray's claim is
limited to the mouth of the river."
This limit was in plain violation of the rules regulating all such
events, and no country knew it better than England. Besides, it was
Captain Gray's discovery, told to the English commander Vancouver,
which made him turn back on his course to rediscover the same river.
The claim that the English made, that "Captain Gray made but a single
step in the progress of discovery," in the light of these facts, marks
their claims as remarkably weak. The right of discovery was then the
first claim made by the United States upon Oregon.
The second was by the Louisiana purchase from France in 1803. This was
the same territory ceded from France to Spain in 1762 and returned to
France in 1800, and sold to the United States for $15,000,000 in 1803,
"with all its rights and appurtenances, as fully and in the same
manner as they were acquired by the French Republic."
There has always been a dispute as to how far into the region of the
northwest this claim of the French extended. In the sale no parallels
were given; but it was claimed that their rights reached to the
Pacific Ocean. Dr. Barrows says, "If, however, the claims of France
failed to reach the Pacific on the parallel of 49 degrees, it must
have been because they encountered the old claims of Spain, that
preceded the Nootka treaty and were tacitly conceded by England.
Between the French claims and the Spanish claims there was left no
territory for England to base a claim on. If the United States did
not acquire through to the Pacific in the Louisiana purchase, it was
because Spain was owner of the territory prior to the first, second
and third transfers. It is difficult to perceive standing ground for
the English in either of the claims mentioned.
The claim of England that the Nootka treaty of 1790 abrogated the
rights of Spain to the territory of Oregon, which she then held, is
untenable, from the fact that no right of sovereignty or jurisdiction
was conveyed by that treaty. Whatever right Spain had prior to that
treaty was not disturbed, and all legal rights vested in Spain were
still in force when she ceded the territory to France in 1800, and
also when France ceded the same to the United States in 1803.
The third claim of the United States was by the commission sent out by
Jefferson in 1803, when Lewis and Clarke and their fellow voyagers
struck the headwaters of the Columbia and followed it to its mouth and
up its tributary rivers.
The fourth was the actual settlement of the Astor Fur Company at
Astoria in 1811. True it was a private enterprise, but was given the
sanction of the United States and a U. S. naval officer was allowed to
command the leading vessel in Astor's enterprise, thus placing the
seal of nationality upon it. True the town was captured and the
effects confiscated in 1812 by the British squadron of the Pacific,
commanded by Captain Hillyar, but the fact of actual settlement by
Americans at Astoria, even for a short time, had its value in the
later argument. In the treaty of Ghent with England in 1814, Astoria,
with all its rights, was ordered to be restored to its original
owners, but even this was not consummated until 1846.
America's fifth claim was in her treaty with Spain in 1818, when Spain
relinquished any and all claims to the territory in dispute to the
United States.
The sixth and last claim was from Mexico, by a treaty in 1828, by
which the United States acquired all interest Mexico claimed, formerly
in common with Spain, but now under her own government.
Such is a brief statement, but I trust a sufficient one, for an
intelligent understanding of the questions of ownership.
It will be seen that the United States was vested in all the rights
held over Oregon by every other power except one, that of Great
Britain. Her claim rested, as we have seen, in the fact that "Captain
Gray only discovered the mouth of the river," but did not survey it to
the extent that the English Captain Vancouver did, after being told by
Gray of his discovery. They also made claims of settlement by their
Fur Company, just as the United States did by the settlement made by
Astor and others. As the Hudson Bay Company and the Northwest Fur
Company of Montreal figure so extensively in the contest for English
ownership of Oregon, it is well to have a clear idea of their origin
and power.
The Hudson Bay Company was organized in 1670 by Charles II., with
Prince Rupert, the King's cousin, at its head, with other favorites of
his Court. They were invested with remarkable powers, such as had
never before, nor have since, been granted to a corporation. They were
granted absolute proprietorship, with subordinate sovereignty, over
all that country known by name of "Rupert's Land" including all
regions "discovered or undiscovered within the entrance to Hudson
Strait." It was by far the largest of all English dependencies at that
time.
For more than a century the company confined its active operations to
a coast traffic.
The original stock of this company was $50,820. During the first fifty
years the capital stock was increased to $457,000 wholly out of the
profits, besides paying dividends.
During the last half of the 17th century the Northwest Fur Company
became a formidable opponent to the Hudson Bay Company, and the
rivalry and great wealth of both companies served to stimulate them
to reach out toward the Rocky Mountains and the Pacific Ocean.
After Canada had become an English dependency and the competition had
grown into such proportions as to interfere with the great monopoly,
in the year 1821, there was a coalition between the Northwest and the
Hudson Bay Companies on a basis of equal value, and the consolidated
stock was marked at $1,916,000, every dollar of which was profits, as
was shown at the time, except the original stock of both companies,
which amounted to about $135,000. And yet during all this period there
had been made an unusual dividend to stockholders of 10 per cent.
Single vessels from headquarters carried furs to London valued at from
three to four hundred thousand dollars. It is not at all strange that
a company which was so rolling in wealth and which was in supreme
control of a territory reaching through seventy-five degrees of
longitude, from Davis Strait to Mt. Saint Elias, and through
twenty-eight degrees of latitude, from the mouth of the Mackenzie to
the California border, should hold tenaciously to its privileges.
It was a grand monopoly, but it must be said of it that no kingly
power ever ruled over savage subjects with such wisdom and discretion.
Of necessity, they treated their savage workmen kindly, but they
managed to make them fill the coffers of the Hudson Bay Company with
a wealth of riches, as the years came and went. Their lives and safety
and profits all depended upon keeping their dependents in a good humor
and binding them to themselves. The leading men of the company were
men of great business tact and shrewdness, and one of their chief
requisites was to thoroughly understand Indian character.
They managed year by year so to gain control of the savage tribes that
the factor of a trading post had more power over a fractious band,
than could have been exerted by an army of men with guns and bayonets.
If, now and then, a chief grew sullen and belligerent, he was at once
quietly bought up by a judicious present, and the company got it all
back many times over from the tribe, when their furs were marketed.
It was the refusal of the missionaries of Oregon to condone crime and
wink at savage methods, as the Hudson Bay Company did, which first
brought about misunderstanding and unpleasantness, as we shall see in
another place.
It was this power and controlling influence which met the pioneer fur
traders and missionaries, upon entering Oregon. They controlled the
savage life and the white men there were wholly dependent upon them.
In 1811 an American fur company at Astoria undertook to open business
upon what they regarded as American soil. They had scarcely settled
down to work when the war of 1812 began and they were speedily routed.
In 1818 a treaty was made, which said, "It is agreed that any country
that may be claimed by either party on the Northwest coast of America
westward of the Stony Mountains shall, together with its harbors,
bays, creeks and the navigation of all rivers within the same, be free
and open for ten years from the date of the signature of the present
convention, to the vessels, citizens, and subjects of the two powers;
it being well understood that the agreement is not to be construed to
the prejudice of any claim which either of the two high contracting
parties may have to any part of said country; nor shall it be taken to
affect the claims of any other power or state to any of said country;
the only object of the high contracting parties in that respect being
to prevent disputes and differences among themselves."
That looked fair and friendly enough. But how did the Hudson Bay
Company carry it out? They went on just as they had done before,
governing to suit their own selfish interests. They froze out and
starved out every American fur company that dared to settle in any
portion of their territory. They fixed the price of every commodity,
and had such a hold on the various tribes that a foreign company had
no chance to live and prosper.
It so continued until the ten-year limit was nearly up, when in 1827
the commission representing the two powers met and re-enacted the
treaty of 1818, which went into effect in 1828. It was a giant
monopoly, but dealing as it did with savage life, and gathering its
wealth from sources which had never before contributed to the world's
commerce, it was allowed to run its course until it came in contact
with the advancing civilization of the United States, and was worsted
in the conflict.
With the adoption of the Ashburton treaty the Hudson Bay Company was
shorn of much of its kingly power and old time grandeur. But it
remained a money-making organization. Under the terms of the treaty
the great corporation was fully protected. This Ashburton treaty was
written in England and from English standpoints, and every property
and possessory right of this powerful company was strictly guarded.
The interests of the company were made English interests.
Under this treaty the United States agreed to pay all valuations upon
Hudson Bay Company property south of forty-nine degrees; while England
was to make a settlement for all above that line. The company promptly
sent in a bill to the United States for $3,882,036.27, while their
dependent company, the Puget Sound Agricultural Company, sent in a
more modest demand for $1,168,000. These bills were in a state of
liquidation until 1864, when the United States made a final
settlement, and paid the Hudson Bay Company $450,000 and the Puget
Sound Company $200,000.
They also, at the time of presenting bills to the United States,
presented one to England for $4,990,036.07. In 1869 the English
government settled the claim by paying $1,500,000. This amount was
paid from the treasury of the Dominion of Canada, and all the vast
territory north of 49 degrees came under the government of the
Dominion. It was, however, stipulated and agreed that the company
should retain all its forts, with ten acres of ground surrounding
each, together with one-twentieth of all the land from the Red river
to the Rocky Mountains, besides valuable blocks of land to which it
laid special claim.
The company goes on trading as of old; its organization is still
complete; it still makes large dividends of about $400,000 per year,
and has untold prospective wealth in its lands, which are the best in
the Dominion.
Among the most interesting facts connected with our title to Oregon
are those in connection with the Louisiana purchase by the United
States from France in 1803. Many readers of current history have
overlooked the fact, that it was wholly due to England, and her
overweening ambition, that the United States was enabled to buy this
great domain. Letters, which have recently been published, written by
those closest to the high contracting parties, have revealed the
romance, and the inside facts of this great deal, perhaps the most
important the United States ever made, and made so speedily as to
dazzle the Nation.
Few take in the fact that the "Louisiana Purchase" meant not only the
rich state at the mouth of our great river, but also, Arkansas,
Missouri, Iowa, Nebraska, Colorado, Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, Oregon,
with probably the two Dakotas. Roughly estimated it was a claim by a
foreign power upon our continent to territory of over 900,000 square
miles.
At the time, but little was thought of its value save and except the
getting possession of the rich soil of Louisiana for the purposes of
the Southern planter, and being able to own and control the mouth of
our great river upon which, at that time, all the states of the North
and West were wholly dependent for their commerce.
While Napoleon and the French Government were upon the most friendly
terms with the United States, and conceded to our commerce the widest
facilities, yet there was a lurking fear that such conditions might at
any time change. The desirability of obtaining such possession had
often been canvassed, with scarcely a ray of hope for its
consummation. The United States was poor, and while the South and the
West were deeply interested, the East, which held the balance of
power, was determinedly set against it. The same narrow statesmanship
existed then, which later on undervalued all our possessions beyond
the Stony Mountains, and was willing and even anxious that they should
pass into the possession of a foreign power.
France acquired this vast property from Spain in 1800. In March, 1802,
there was a great treaty entered into between France on one side and
Great Britain, Spain and the Batavian Republic on the other. It was
known as "The Amiens Treaty." It was a short-lived treaty which was
hopelessly ruptured in 1803.
England, foreseeing the rupture, had not delayed to get ready for the
event. Then as now, she was, "Mistress upon the high seas," and set
about arranging to seize everything afloat that carried the French
flag. Her policy was soon made plain, and that was to first make war
upon all French dependencies.
No man knew better than Napoleon how powerless he would be to make any
successful defense. His treasury was well-nigh bankrupt and he must
have money for home defense as soon as the victorious army of the
enemy should return from the Mississippi campaign, which he foresaw.
While the treaty of Amiens was not really abrogated until May, 1803,
yet upon January 1, 1803, the whole matter was well understood by
Napoleon and his advisers.
Early in that month the government received disquieting news from
Admiral Villeneuve who was in command of the French fleet in West
India waters. It plainly stated that it was undoubtedly the fact that
the first blow of the English would be made at New Orleans.
This knowledge was promptly conveyed to the American Minister Monroe,
well knowing that the United States was almost as much interested in
the matter as France was, as it would stop all traffic from all the
States along the Ohio and Mississippi rivers, and be a death blow to
American prosperity for an indefinite period. The recently published
letters, already referred to, say of the conference between Minister
Monroe and Bonaparte:
"Unfortunately Mr. Monroe at this time did not understand the French
language well enough to follow a speaker who talked as rapidly as did
Bonaparte, and the intervention of an interpreter was necessary. 'We
are not able alone to defend the colony of Louisiana,' the First
Consul began. 'Your new regions of the southwest are nearly as deeply
interested in its remaining in friendly hands as we are in holding
it. Our fleet is not equal to the needs of the French Nation. Can you
not help us to defend the mouth of the Mississippi river?'
"'We could not take such a step without a treaty, offensive and
defensive,' the American answered. 'Our Senate really is the
treaty-making power. It is against us. The President, Mr. Jefferson,
is my friend, as well as my superior officer. Tell me, General, what
you have in your mind.'
"Bonaparte walked the room, a small private consulting cabinet
adjoining the Salles des Ambassadeurs. He had his hands clasped behind
him, his head bent forward--his usual position when in deep thought.
'I acquired the great territory to which the Mississippi mouth is the
entrance,' he finally began, 'and I have the right to dispose of my
own. France is not able now to hold it. Rather than see it in
England's hands, I donate it to America. Why will your country not buy
it from France?' There Bonaparte stopped. Mr. Monroe's face was like a
flame. What a diplomatic feat it would be for him! What a triumph for
the administration of Jefferson to add such a territory to the
national domain!
"No man living was a better judge of his fellows than Bonaparte. He
read the thoughts of the man before him as though they were on a
written scroll. He saw the emotions of his soul. 'Well, what do you
think of it?' said General Bonaparte.
"'The matter is so vast in its direct relations to my country and what
may result from it, that it dazes me,' the American answered. 'But the
idea is magnificent. It deserves to emanate from a mind like yours.'
The First Consul bowed low. Monroe never flattered, and the look of
truth was in his eyes, its ring in his voice. 'I must send a special
communication at once touching this matter to President Jefferson. My
messenger must take the first safe passage to America.'
"'The Blonde, the fastest ship in our navy, leaves Brest at once with
orders for the West Indian fleet, I will detain her thirty-six hours,
till your dispatches are ready,' the First Consul said. 'Your
messenger shall go on our ship.'
"'How much shall I say the territory will cost us?' The great
Corsican--who was just ending the audience, which had been full two
hours long--came up to the American Minister. After a moment he spoke
again. 'Between nations who are really friends there need be no
chaffering. Could I defend this territory, not all the gold in the
world would buy it. But I am giving to a friend what I am unable to
keep. I need 100,000,000 francs in coin or its equivalent. Whatever
action we take must be speedy. Above all, let there be absolute
silence and secrecy,' and Bonaparte bowed our minister out. The
audience was ended. The protracted audience between Napoleon and the
American Minister was such as to arouse gossip, but the secret was
safe in the hands of the two men, both of whom were statesmen and
diplomats who knew the value of secrecy in such an emergency.
"The profoundly astonishing dispatches reached President Jefferson
promptly. He kept it a secret until he could sound a majority of the
Senators and be assured of the standing of such a proposition.
"The main difficulty that was found would be in raising the 75,000,000
francs it was proposed to give. In those days, with a depleted
treasury, it was a large sum of money. The United States had millions
of unoccupied acres, but had few millions in cash in its treasury. But
our statesmen, to their great honor, proved equal to the emergency.
Through the agency of Stephen Girard as financier in chief, the loan
necessary was negotiated through the Dutch House of Hapes in
Amsterdam, and the money paid to France, and the United States entered
into possession of the vast estate."
[Illustration: FALLS OF THE WILLAMETTE.]
This much of the well-nigh forgotten history we have thought
appropriate to note in this connection; first, because of the new
light given to it from the recent disclosures made; and, second, to
call attention to the fact that a second time, forty-three years
later, it served a valiant purpose in thwarting English ambition and
serving America's highest interests.
Estimated from the standpoint of money and material values, it was a
great transaction, especially notable in view of existing conditions,
but from the standpoint of State and National grandeur, carrying with
it peace and hope and happiness to millions, and continuous rule of
the Republic from ocean to ocean, it assumes a greatness never
surpassed in a single transaction, and not easily over-estimated, and
never in the history of the English people did a single transaction,
with dates so widely separated, arise, and so effectually check their
imperious demands.
The American Republic may well remember with deep gratitude President
Jefferson, and the far-seeing statesmen who rallied to his call and
consummated the grand work. They can at the same time see the
foresight and wisdom of Jefferson in, at once, the very next year,
sending the expedition of Lewis and Clarke to the headwaters of the
Columbia River, and causing a complete survey to be made to its mouth.
It was a complete refutation of the claim of the English
Commissioners, in 1837, that while "Captain Gray only discovered the
mouth of the river, Captain Vancouver made a complete survey." The
American mistake was, not in the purchase and active work then done,
but the lassitude and inexcusable neglect in the forty subsequent
years which imperiled every interest the Republic held in the
territory beyond the Rocky Mountains.
When the treaty of 1846 was signed, it was hoped that the questions at
issue were settled forever; but the Hudson Bay Company was slow to
surrender its grasp on any of the territory it could hold, and
especially one so rich in all materials that constituted its wealth
and power.
The treaty of 1846 between the United States and Great Britain read:
"From the point on the 49th parallel to the middle of the channel
which separates the continent from Vancouver's Island and thence
southerly through the middle of said channel and of the Fuca Straits,
to the Pacific Ocean, provided, however, that the navigation of such
channel and straits south of the latitude 49 degrees remain free and
open to both parties."
This led to after trouble and much ill feeling. The passage referred
to in the treaty is about seven miles wide, between the archipelago
and Vancouver Island. The archipelago is made up of half a dozen
principal islands, and many smaller ones. The largest island, San
Juan, contained about 50,000 acres, and the Hudson Bay Company,
knowing something of its value, had taken possession, and proposed to
hold it. The legislature of Oregon, however, included it in Island
County by an act of 1852, which passed to the Territory of Washington
in 1853 by the division of Oregon. In 1854 the Collector of Customs
for the Puget Sound came in conflict with the Hudson Bay authorities
and a lively row was raised.
The Hudson Bay Company raised the English flag and the collector as
promptly landed and raised the Stars and Stripes. There was a constant
contention between the United States and State authorities, and the
Hudson Bay people, in which the latter were worsted, until in 1856-7,
after much correspondence, both governments appointed a commission to
settle the difficulty. Then followed years of discussion which grew
from time to time warlike, but there was no settlement of the points
in dispute.
In December, 1860, the British Government tired of the contest,
proposed arbitration by one of the European powers and named either
the Swiss Republic, Denmark or Belgium. Then followed the war of the
Rebellion and America had no time to reach the case until 1868-9, when
the whole matter was referred to two commissioners from each
government and the boundary to be determined by the President of the
General Council of the Swiss Republic.
This proposition was defeated and afterward in 1871 the whole matter
was left to the decision of the Emperor of Germany. He made the award
to the United States on all points of dispute in October, 1872, and
thus ended the long contest over the boundary line between the two
countries, after more than half a century's bickering.
CHAPTER II.
ENGLISH AND AMERICAN OPINION OF THE VALUE OF THE NORTHWEST
TERRITORY--THE NEGLECT OF AMERICAN STATESMEN.
The history briefly recited in the previous chapter, fully reveals the
status of the United States as to ownership of Oregon. Prior to the
date to which our story more specifically relates, the United States
had gone on perfecting her titles by the various means already
described. For the Nation's interest, it was a great good fortune at
this early period that a broad-minded, far-seeing man like Thomas
Jefferson was President. It was his wisdom and discretion and
statesmanship that enabled the country to overcome all difficulties
and to make the Louisiana purchase.
Looking deeper into the years of the future than his contemporaries,
he organized the expedition of Lewis and Clarke and surveyed the
Columbia River from its source to its mouth. It was regarded by many
at the time as a needless and unjustifiable expense; and their report
did not create a ripple of applause, and it was an even nine years
after the completion of the expedition, and after the death of one of
the explorers, before the report was printed and given to the public.
But no reader of history will fail to see how important the expedition
was as a link in our chain of evidence. The great misfortune of that
time was, that there were not more Jeffersons. True, it did not people
Oregon, nor was it followed by any legislation protecting any interest
the United States held in the great territory.
There were Congressmen and Senators, who, from time to time, made
efforts to second the work of Jefferson. Floyd, of Virginia, as early
as 1820, made an eloquent plea for the occupation of the territory and
a formal recognition of our rights as rulers. In 1824 a bill passed
the lower house of Congress embodying the idea of Floyd stated four
years previously, but upon reaching the Senate it fell on dull ears.
When the question was before the Senate in 1828, renewing the treaty
of 1818 with England, Floyd again attempted to have a bill passed to
give land to actual settlers who would emigrate to Oregon, and as
usual, failed.
In February, 1838, Senator Linn, of Missouri, always the friend of
Oregon, introduced a bill with the main features of the House bill
which passed that body in 1824, but again failed in the Senate. The
Government, however, was moved to send a special commissioner to
Oregon to discover its real conditions and report. But nothing
practical resulted.
It is not a pleasant thing to turn the pages of history made by
American statesmen during the first third of the century, and even
nearly to the end of its first half. There is a lack of wisdom and
foresight and broad-mindedness, which shatters our ideals of the
mental grandeur of the builders of the Republic.
Diplomatically they had laid strong claim to the now known grand
country beyond "the Stony Mountains." They had never lost an
opportunity by treaty to hold their interests; and yet from year to
year and from decade to decade, they had seen a foreign power, led by
a great corporation, ruling all the territory with a mailed hand.
While they made but feeble protest in the way we have mentioned, they
did even worse, they turned their shafts of oratory and wit and
denunciation loose against the country itself and all its interests.
[Illustration: MAP SHOWING OREGON IN 1842, WHITMAN'S RIDE, THE
RETURN TRIP TO OREGON, THE SPANISH POSSESSIONS AND THE LOUISIANA
PURCHASE.]
Turn for a brief review of the political record of that period. Among
the ablest men of that day was Senator Benton. He, in his speech of
1825, said, that "The ridge of the Rocky Mountains may be named as a
convenient, natural and everlasting boundary. Along this ridge the
western limits of the Republic should be drawn, and the statue of
the fabled God Terminus should be erected on its highest peak, never
to be thrown down." In quoting Senator Benton of 1825, it is always
but fair to say he had long before the day of Whitman's arrival in
Washington greatly modified his views.
But Senators equally intelligent and influential--such as Winthrop, of
Massachusetts, as late as 1844, quoted this sentence from Benton and
commended its wisdom and statesmanship. It was in this discussion and
while the treaty adopted in 1846 was being considered, that General
Jackson is on record as saying, that, "Our safety lay in a compact
government."
One of the remarkable speeches in the discussion of the
Ashburton-Webster Treaty was that made by Senator McDuffie. Nothing
could better show the educating power of the Hudson Bay Company in the
United States, and the ignorance of our statesmen, as to extent and
value of the territory.
McDuffie said: "What is the character of this country?" (referring to
Oregon). "As I understand it there are seven hundred miles this side
of the Rocky Mountains that are uninhabitable; where rain never falls;
mountains wholly impassable, except through gaps and depressions, to
be reached only by going hundreds of miles out of the direct course.
Well, now, what are you going to do in such a case? How are you going
to apply steam? Have you made an estimate of the cost of a railroad to
the mouth of the Columbia? Why the wealth of the Indies would be
insufficient. Of what use would it be for agricultural purposes? I
would not, for that purpose, give a pinch of snuff for the whole
territory. I wish the Rocky Mountains were an impassable barrier. If
there was an embankment of even five feet to be removed I would not
consent to expend five dollars to remove it and enable our population
to go there. I thank God for his mercy in placing the Rocky Mountains
there."
Will the reader please take notice that the speech was delivered on
the 25th day of January, 1843, just about the time that Whitman, in
the ever-memorable ride, was floundering through the snow drifts of
the Wasatch and Uintah Mountains, deserted by his guide and surrounded
by discouragements that would have appalled any man not inspired by
heroic purpose.
It was at this same session of 1843, prior to the visit of Whitman,
that Linn, of Missouri, had offered a bill which made specific legal
provisions for Oregon, and he succeeded in passing the bill, which
went to the House and as usual was defeated. The prevailing idea was
that which was expressed by General Jackson to President Monroe, and
before referred to, in which Jackson says, "It should be our policy to
concentrate our population and confine our frontier to proper limits
until our country, in those limits, is filled with a dense population.
It is the denseness of our population that gives strength and security
to our frontier." That "interminable desert," those "arid plains,"
those "impassable mountains," and "the impossibility of a wagon road
from the United States," were the burdens of many speeches from the
statesmen of that time. And then they emphasized the whole with the
clincher that, after overcoming these terrible obstacles that
intervened, we reached a land that was "worthless," not even worth a
"pinch of snuff."
Senator Dayton, of New Jersey, in 1844, in the discussion of the
Oregon boundary question, said: "With the exception of land along the
Willamette and strips along other water courses, the whole country is
as irreclaimable and barren a waste as the Desert of Sahara. Nor is
this the worst; the climate is so unfriendly to human life that the
native population has dwindled away under the ravages of malaria."
The National Intelligencer, about the same date, republished from the
Louisville Journal and sanctioned the sentiments, as follows:
"Of all the countries upon the face of the earth Oregon is one of the
least favored by heaven. It is the mere riddlings of creation. It is
almost as barren as Sahara and quite as unhealthy as the Campagna of
Italy. Russia has her Siberia and England has her Botany Bay and if
the United States should ever need a country to which to banish her
rogues and scoundrels, the utility of such a region as Oregon would be
demonstrated. Until then, we are perfectly willing to leave this
magnificent country to the Indians, trappers and buffalo hunters that
roam over its sand banks."
In furtherance of the Jackson sentiment of "a dense population,"
Senator Dayton said: "I have no faith in the unlimited extensions of
this government. We have already conflicting interests, more than
enough, and God forbid that the time should ever come when a state on
the shores of the Pacific, with its interests and tendencies of trade
all looking toward Asiatic nations of the east, shall add its jarring
claims to our already distracted and over-burdened confederacy. We are
nearer to the remote nations of Europe than to Oregon."
The Hudson Bay Company had done its educating work well. If they had
graduated American statesmen in a full course of Hudson Bay training
and argument and literature, they could not have made them more
efficient. Our statesmen did not doubt that the honest title of the
property was vested in the United States; for they had gone on from
time to time perfecting this title; yet they had no idea of its value
and seemed to hold it only for diplomatic purposes or for prospective
barter.
The United States had no contestant for the property except England,
but in 1818 she was not ready to make any assertion of her rights. In
1828 she still postponed making any demand and renewed the treaty,
well knowing that the little island many thousands of miles across the
Atlantic, was the supreme ruler of all the vast territory.
Again, when the Ashburton Treaty was at issue, and the question of
boundary which had been for forty-eight years a bone of contention,
the government again ignored Oregon, and was satisfied with settling
the boundaries between a few farms up in Maine.
But it requires no argument in view of this long continued series of
acts, to reach the conclusion that American interests in Oregon were
endangered most of all from the apathy and ignorance of our own
statesmen.
That loyal old pioneer, Rev. Jason Lee, the chief of the Methodist
Mission in Oregon, visited Washington in 1838 and presented the
conditions of the country and its dangers forcibly. With funds
contributed by generous friends he succeeded in taking back with him
quite a delegation of actual settlers for Oregon. But neither
Congress nor the people were aroused.
For all practical purposes Oregon was treated as a "foreign land."
There was not even a show of a protectorate over the few American
immigrants who had gathered there. The "American Board," which sent
missionaries only to foreign lands, had charge of the mission fields,
and carefully secured passports for their missionaries before starting
them upon their long journey. The Rev. Myron Eells in his interesting
volume entitled "Father Eells," gives a copy of the passport issued to
his father. It records--
"The Rev. Cushing Eells, Missionary and Teacher of the American Board
of Commissioners for Foreign Missions to the tribes west of the Rocky
Mountains, having signified to this department his desire to pass
through the Indian Country to the Columbia River, and requested the
permission required by law to enable him so to do, such permission is
hereby granted; and he is commended to the friendly attention of civil
and military agents and officers and of citizens, if at any time it
shall be necessary to his protection. Given under my hand and the seal
of the War Department this 27th day of February, 1838.
"J. R. POINSETT,
"Secretary of War."
It is a truth so plain as to need no argument, that during all these
earlier years the whole effort of the fur traders had been to deceive
all nationalities as to the value of the Northwestern country. In
their selfishness they had deceived England as well as America. Their
idea and hope was to keep out emigration. But England had been better
informed than the United States, for the reason that all the commerce
was with England, and English capitalists who had large interests in
the Hudson Bay Company, very naturally were better informed, but even
they were not anxious for English colonization and an interference
with their bonanza.
They controlled the English press, and so late as 1840 we read in the
"British and Foreign Review," that "upon the whole, therefore, the
Oregon country holds out no great promise as an agricultural field."
The London Examiner in 1843 wonders that "Ignorant Americans" were
"disposed to quarrel over a country, the whole in dispute not being
worth to either party twenty thousand pounds."
The Edinburgh Review, generally fair, said: "Only a very small portion
of the land is capable of cultivation. It is a case in which the
American people have been misled as to climate and soil. In a few
years all that gives life to the country, both the hunter and his prey
will be extinct, and their places will be supplied by a thin white
and half-breed population scattered along the fertile valleys
supported by pastures instead of the chase, and gradually degenerating
into barbarism, far more offensive than backwoodsmen." Our English
friends, it may be observed, had long had a poor opinion of
"backwoodsmen."
The Edinburgh Review, in 1843, says: "However the political question
between England and the United States as to their claim on Oregon
shall be determined, Oregon will never be colonized overland from the
United States. The world must assume a new phase before the American
wagons make a plain road to the Columbia River."
In this educating work of the English press, we can easily understand
how public opinion was molded, and how our statesmen were misinformed
and misdirected. It was, no doubt, largely due to the shrewd work of
the great monopoly in Oregon backed up by the English Government. Its
first object was to keep it unsettled as long as possible, for on that
depended the millions for the Hudson Bay Company's treasury, but
beyond that, the government plainly depended upon the powerful
organization to hold all the land as a British possession.
In the war of 1812, one of the first moves was to dispatch a fleet to
the Columbia, with orders, as the record shows, "to take and destroy
everything American on the northwest coast."
The prosperous people of Oregon, Washington and Idaho are in a
position now to enjoy such prophetic fulminations, but they can easily
see the dangers that were escaped. It was a double danger, danger from
abroad and at home, and of the latter most of all. The Nation had been
deceived. It must be undeceived.
The outlook was not hopeful. The year 1843 had been ushered in. The
long-looked-for and talked-of treaty had been signed, and Oregon again
ignored. There was scarcely a shadow cast of coming events to give
hope to the friends of far-away Oregon.
Suppose some watchman from the dome of the Capitol casting his eyes
westward in 1843, could have seen that little caravan winding through
valleys and over the hills and hurrying eastward, but who would dream
that its leader was "a man of destiny," bearing messages to a nation
soon to be aroused? Of how little or how much importance was this
messenger or his message, turn to "The Ride to Save Oregon" and judge.
But certain it is, a great change, bordering on revolution, was
portending.
CHAPTER III.
THE ROMANCE OF THE OREGON MISSION.
These pages are mainly designed to show in brief the historical and
political environments of Oregon in pioneer days, and the patriotic
services rendered the nation by Dr. Marcus Whitman. But to attempt to
picture this life and omit the missionary, would be like reciting the
play of Hamlet and omitting Hamlet.
The mission work to the Oregon Indians began in a romance and ended in
a great tragedy. The city of St. Louis in that day was so near the
border of civilization that it was accustomed to see much of the
rugged and wild life of the plains; yet in 1832 the people beheld even
to them the odd sight of four Flathead Indians in Indian dress and
equipment parading their principal streets.
General Clarke, who commanded the military post of that city, was
promptly notified and took the strangers in charge. He had been an
Indian commissioner for many years in the far West, knew the tribe
well and could easily communicate with them. With it all he was a good
friend to the Indians and at once made arrangements at the fort to
make them comfortable. They informed him that they were all chiefs of
the tribe and had spent the entire Summer and Fall upon their long
journey. Their wearied manner and wasted appearance told the fact
impressively, even had the general not known the locality where they
belonged.
For a while they were reticent regarding their mission, as is usual
with Indians; but in due time their story was fully revealed. They had
heard of "The White Man's Book of Life," and had come "to hunt for it"
and "to ask for teachers to be sent" to their tribe.
To Gen. Clarke this was a novel proposition to come in that way from
wild Indians. Gen. Clarke was a devoted Catholic and treated his
guests as a humane and hospitable man. After they were rested up he
piloted them to every place which he thought would entertain and
interest them. Frequent visits were made to Catholic churches, and to
theaters and shows of every kind. And so they spent the balance of the
Winter.
During this time, two of the Indians, from the long journey and
possibly from over-eating rich food, to which they were unaccustomed,
were taken sick and died, and were given honored burial by the
soldiers. When the early Spring sun began to shine, the two remaining
Indians commenced their preparations for return home.
Gen. Clarke proposed to give them a banquet upon the last evening of
their sojourn, and start them upon their way loaded with all the
comforts he could give. At this banquet one of the Indians made a
speech. It was that speech, brimming over with Indian eloquence, which
fired the Christian hearts of the Nation into a new life. The speech
was translated into English and thus doubtless loses much of its
charm.
The chief said: "I come to you over the trail of many moons from the
setting sun. You were the friends of my fathers, who have all gone the
long way. I came with an eye partly open for my people, who sit in
darkness. I go back with both eyes closed. How can I go back blind, to
my blind people? I made my way to you with strong arms through many
enemies and strange lands that I might carry back much to them. I go
back with both arms broken and empty. Two fathers came with us, they
were the braves of many winters and wars. We leave them asleep here by
your great water and wigwams. They were tired in many moons and their
moccasins wore out.
"My people sent me to get the "White Man's Book of Heaven." You took
me to where you allow your women to dance as we do not ours, and the
book was not there. You took me to where they worship the Great Spirit
with candles and the book was not there. You showed me images of the
good spirits and the pictures of the good land beyond, but the book
was not among them to tell us the way. I am going back the long and
sad trail to my people in the dark land. You make my feet heavy with
gifts and my moccasins will grow old in carrying them, yet the book is
not among them. When I tell my poor blind people after one more snow,
in the big council, that I did not bring the book, no word will be
spoken by our old men or by our young braves. One by one they will
rise up and go out in silence. My people will die in darkness, and
they will go a long path to other hunting grounds. No white man will
go with them, and no White Man's Book to make the way plain. I have no
more words."
When this speech was translated and sent East it was published in the
Christian Advocate in March, 1833, with a ringing editorial from
President Fisk of Wilbraham College. "Who will respond to go beyond
the Rocky Mountains and carry the Book of Heaven?" It made a profound
impression. It was a Macedonian cry of "Come over and help us," not to
be resisted. Old men and women who read this call, and attended the
meetings at that time, are still living, and can attest to its power.
It stirred the church as it has seldom been stirred into activity.
This incident of the appearance in St. Louis and demand of the four
Flathead Indians has been so fully verified in history as to need no
additional proof to silence modern sceptics who have ridiculed it. All
the earlier histories such as "Gray's History of Oregon," "Reed's
Mission of the Methodist Church," Governor Simpson's narrative,
Barrow's "Oregon," Parkman's "Oregon Trail," with the correspondence
of the Lees, verified the truth of the occurrence.
Bancroft, in his thirty-eight-volume history, in volume 1, page 579,
says, "Hearing of the Christians and how heaven favors them, four
Flathead Indian chiefs, in 1832, went to St. Louis and asked for
teachers," etc. As this latter testimony is from a source which
discredited missionary work, as we shall show in another chapter, it
is good testimony upon the point. Some modern doubters have also
ridiculed the speech reported to have been made by the Indian chief.
Those who know Indians best will bear testimony to its genuineness.
Almost every tribe of Indians has its orator and story-teller, and
some of them as famous in their way as the Beechers and Phillipses and
Depews, among the whites, or the Douglasses and Langstons among the
negroes.
In 1851 the writer of this book was purser upon the steamer Lot
Whitcomb, which ran between Milwaukee and Astoria, Oregon. One
beautiful morning I wandered a mile or more down the beach and was
seated upon the sand, watching the great combers as they rolled in
from the Pacific, which, after a storm, is an especially grand sight;
when suddenly, as if he had arisen from the ground, an Indian appeared
near by and accosted me. He was a fine specimen of a savage, clean and
well dressed. He evidently knew who I was and my position on the
steamer and had followed me to make his plea. With a toss of his arm
and a motion of his body he threw the fold of his blanket across his
left shoulder as gracefully as a Roman Senator could have done, and
began his speech. "Hy-iu hyas kloshe Boston, Boston hy-iu steamboat
hy-iu cuitan. Indian halo steamboat, halo cuitan." It was a rare
mixture of English words with the Chinook, which I easily understood.
The burthen of his speech was, the greatness and richness and goodness
of white men; (they called all white men Boston men); they owned all
the steamboats and horses; that the Indians were very poor; that his
squaw and pappoose were away up the Willamette river, so far away that
his moccasins would be worn out before he could reach their wigwam;
that he had no money and wanted to ride.
I have heard the great orators of the nation in the pulpit and halls
of legislation, but I never listened to a more eloquent plea, or saw
gestures more graceful than were those of that wild Wasco Indian, of
which I alone was the audience.
Another interesting historical scrap of the romantic history of these
Flathead chiefs is furnished in the fact that the celebrated Indian
artist, George Catlin, was on one of his tours in the West taking
sketches in the spring of 1833. Soon after their leaving St. Louis he
dropped in with the two Indians on their return journey and traveled
with them for some days, taking pictures of both, and they are now
numbers 207 and 208 in his great collection.
Upon his return east he read the Indian speech, and of the excitement
it had caused, and not having been told by the Indians of the cause of
their journey, and wishing to be assured that he had accidentally
struck a great historic prize in securing the pictures, he sat down
and wrote Gen. Clarke at St. Louis, asking him if the speech was true
and the story correct. Gen. Clarke promptly replied, "The story is
true; that was the only object of their visit." Taken in connection
with the after history, no two pictures in any collection have a
deeper or grander significance.
[Illustration: THE LOT WHITCOMB.
The first Steamboat built in Oregon.]
We may add here that within a month after leaving St. Louis, one of
the Indians was taken sick and died, and but one reached his home
in safety.
When I reached Oregon in 1850, the first tribe of Indians I visited in
their home was the Flatheads. But whether the story is true in all its
minutiae or not, it matters but little. It was believed true, and
produced grand results. It can hardly be said, from the standpoint of
the Christian missionary, that the work in Oregon was a grand success.
And yet, never were missionaries more heroic, or that labored in any
field with greater fidelity for the true interests of the Indian
savages to whom they were sent.
They were great, warm-hearted, intelligent, educated, earnest men and
women, who endured privation, isolation and discomfort with
cheerfulness, that they might teach Christianity and save souls. There
was no failure from any incompetency of the teachers, but from
complications and surroundings hopelessly beyond their power to
change.
They brought with them over their long, weary journey the Bible,
Christianity and civilization, and the school. They were met at first
with a cordial reception by the Indians, but a great corporation,
dependent upon the steel trap and continuous savage life, soon showed
its hand. It was a foreign un-American opposition. It had met every
American company that had attempted to share in the business promoted
by savage life, and routed them. The missionaries were wide-awake men
and were quick to see the drift of affairs.
Dr. Whitman early foresaw what was to happen. He saw the possibilities
of the country and that the first battle was between the schoolhouse
and civilization, and the tepee and savagery. He resolved to do
everything possible for the Indian before it began. In a letter to his
father-in-law, dated May 16, 1844, from Waiilatpui, he says:
"It does not concern me so much what is to become of any particular
set of Indians, as to give them the offer of salvation through the
Gospel, and the opportunity of civilization, and then I am content to
do good to all men as I have opportunity. I have no doubt our greatest
work is to be to aid the white settlement of this country and help to
found its religious institutions. Providence has its full share in all
those events. Although the Indians have made, and are making rapid
advance in religious knowledge and civilization, yet it cannot be
hoped that time will be allowed to mature the work of Christianization
or civilization before white settlers will demand the soil and the
removal both of the Indians and the Missions.
"What Americans desire of this kind they always effect, and it is
useless to oppose or desire it otherwise. To guide as far as can be
done, and direct these tendencies for the best, is evidently the part
of wisdom. Indeed, I am fully convinced that when people refuse or
neglect to fill the design of Providence, they ought not to complain
at the results, and so it is equally useless for Christians to be
over-anxious on their account.
"The Indians have in no case obeyed the command to multiply and
replenish the earth, and they cannot stand in the way of others doing
so. A place will be left them to do this as fully as their ability to
obey will permit, and the more we do for them the more fully will this
be realized. No exclusiveness can be asked for any portion of the
human family. The exercise of his rights are all that can be desired.
In order for this to be understood to its proper extent, in regard to
the Indians, it is necessary that they seek to preserve their rights
by peaceable means only. Any violation of this rule will be visited
with only evil results to themselves."
This letter from Dr. Whitman to his wife's father, dated about seven
months after his return from his memorable "Ride to Save Oregon," is
for the first time made public in the published transactions of the
State Historical Society of Oregon in 1893. It is important from the
fact that it gives a complete key to the life and acts of this silent
man and his motives for the part he took in the great historic drama,
in which the statesmen of the two nations were to be the actors, with
millions of people the interested audience.
In another place we will show how Whitman has been misrepresented by
modern historians, and an attempt made to deprive him of all honor,
and call attention to the above record, all the more valuable because
never intended for the public eye when written.
In the same letter Whitman says, "As I hold the settlement of this
country by Americans, rather than by English colonists, most
important, I am happy to have been the means of landing so large an
immigration on the shores of the Columbia with their wagons, families
and stock, all in safety."
Such sentiments reveal only the broad-minded, far-seeing Christian
man, who, though many thousand miles away from its protecting
influence, still loved "The banner of beauty and glory." He had gone
to Oregon with only a desire to teach savages Christianity; but saw in
the near future the inevitable, and, without lessening his interest in
his savage pupils, he entered the broader field.
Who can doubt that both were calls from a power higher than man? Or
who can point to an instance upon historic pages where the great work
assigned was prosecuted with greater fidelity? Having accomplished a
feat unparalleled for its heroism and without a break in its grand
success, he makes no report of it to any state or national
organization, but while he talked freely with his friends of his work
it is only now, after he has rested for forty-seven and more years,
that this modest letter written to his wife's father at the time,
strongly reveals his motives.
Having accomplished his great undertaking, he was still the missionary
and friend of the Indians, and at once dropped back to his work, and
the drudgery of his Indian mission.
Again we find him enlarging his field of work, teaching his savage
friends, not only Christianity, but how to sow, and plant, and reap,
and build houses, and prepare for civilization. He took no part in the
new political life which he had made possible. He was a stranger to
all things except those which concerned the work he was called to do.
In his letter he speaks of earnestly desiring to return East and bring
out the second company of immigrants the coming Spring, but the needs
of his mission, his wasted fields, and his mill burned during his
absence, seemed to demand his presence at home.
The world speaks of this event and that, as "It so happened." They
will refer to the advent of the Flathead Indians in St. Louis in 1832,
as "It so happened." The more thoughtful readers of history find fewer
things "accidental." In this great historic romance the Flathead
Indians were not an accident. The American Board, the Methodist
Board, Dr. Whitman and Jason Lee, and their co-workers, were not
accidents. They were all men inspired to a specific work, and having
entered upon it, the field widened into dimensions of unforeseen
grandeur, whose benefits the Nation has never yet befittingly
acknowledged.
CHAPTER IV.
THE WEDDING JOURNEY ACROSS THE PLAINS.
The romance of the Oregon Mission did not end with the call of the
Flathead Indians. This was savage romance, that of civilization
followed.
The Methodists sent the Lees in 1834, and the American Board tried to
get the right men for the work to accompany them, but failed. But in
1835 they sent Dr. Marcus Whitman and the Rev. Samuel Parker to Oregon
upon a trip of discovery, to find out the real conditions, present and
prospective.
They got an early start in 1835 and reached Green River, where they
met large bodies of Indians and Indian traders, and were made fully
acquainted with the situation. The Indians gave large promises, and
the field seemed wide and inviting. Upon consultation it was agreed
that Dr. Whitman should return to the States and report to the
American Board, while Dr. Parker should go on to the Columbia. Two
Indian boys from the Pacific Coast, Richard and John, volunteered to
return with Dr. Whitman and come back with him the following year.
The Doctor and his Indian boys reached his home in Rushville, New
York, late on Saturday night in November, and not making known the
event to his family, astonished the congregation in his church by
walking up the aisle with his Indians, and calling out an audible
exclamation from his good old mother, "Well, there is Marcus Whitman."
Upon the report of Dr. Whitman the American Board resolved to at once
occupy the field. Dr. Whitman had long been engaged to be married to
Miss Narcissa Prentice, the daughter of Judge Prentice, of Prattsburg,
New York, who was as much of an enthusiast in the Oregon Indian
Mission work as the Doctor himself. The American Board thought it
unwise to send the young couple alone on so distant a journey, and at
once began the search for company. The wedding day, which had been
fixed, was postponed, and valuable time was passing, and no suitable
parties would volunteer for the work, when its trials and dangers were
explained.
The Board had received word that the Rev. H. H. Spalding, who had
recently married, was then with his wife on his way to the Osage
Mission to enter upon a new field of work. It was in January and
Whitman took to the road in his sleigh in pursuit of the traveling
missionaries. He overtook them near the village of Hudson and hailed
them in his cheery way:
"Ship ahoy, you are wanted for the Oregon Mission."
After a short colloquy they drove on to the hotel of the little
village. There the subject was canvassed and none of its dangers
hidden. Mr. Spalding promptly made up his mind, and said:
"My dear, I do not think it your duty to go, but we will leave it to
you after we have prayed."
Mrs. Spalding asked to be left alone, and in ten minutes she appeared
with a beaming face and said: "I have made up my mind to go."
"But your health, my dear?"
"I like the command just as it stands," says Mrs. Spalding, "Go ye
into all the world and preach the Gospel, with no exceptions for poor
health."
Others referred to the hardships and dangers and terrors of the
journey, but Dr. Spalding says: "They all did not move her an iota."
Such was the party for the wedding journey. It did look like a
dangerous journey for a woman who had been many months an invalid, but
events proved Mrs. Spalding a real heroine, with a courage and pluck
scarcely equaled, and under the circumstances never excelled. Having
turned her face toward Oregon she never looked back and never was
heard to murmur or regret her decision.
This difficulty being removed, the day was again set for the marriage
of Dr. Whitman and Miss Prentice, which took place in February, 1836.
All authorities mark Narcissa Prentice as a woman of great force of
character.
She was the adored daughter of a refined Christian home and had the
love of a wide circle of friends. She was the soprano singer in the
choir of the village church of which she and her family were members.
In the volume of the magazine of American History for 1884, the
editor, the late Miss Martha J. Lamb, says:
"The voice of Miss Prentice was of remarkable sweetness. She was a
graceful blonde, stately and dignified in her bearing, without a
particle of affectation." Says Miss Lamb: "When preparing to leave for
Oregon the church held a farewell service and the minister gave out
the well-known hymn:
'Yes, my native land I love thee,
All thy scenes I love them well;
Friends, connection, happy country,
Can I bid you all farewell?'
"The whole congregation joined heartily in the singing, but before the
hymn was half through, one by one they ceased singing and audible sobs
were heard in every part of the great audience. The last stanza was
sung by the sweet voice of Mrs. Whitman alone, clear, musical and
unwavering."
One of the pleasant things since it was announced that these sketches
would be written, is the number of people, that before were unknown,
who have volunteered charming personal sketches of Dr. and Mrs.
Whitman.
A venerable friend who often, he fears, attended church more for the
songs of Miss Prentice than for the sermons, was also at their
wedding. The venerable J. S. Seeley, of Aurora, Illinois, writes: "It
was just fifty-nine years ago this March since I drove Dr. and Mrs.
Whitman from Elmira, N. Y., to Hollidaysburg, Pa., in my sleigh. This
place was at the foot of the Allegheny Mountains (east side) on the
Pennsylvania canal. The canal boats were built in two sections and
were taken over the mountains on a railroad.
"They expected to find the canal open on the west side and thus reach
the Ohio River on the way to Oregon. I was with them some seven days.
Dr. Whitman impressed me as a man of strong sterling character and
lots of push, but he was not a great talker. Mrs. Whitman was of
medium size and impressed me as a woman of great resolution."
A younger sister of the bride, Mrs. H. P. Jackson, of Oberlin, Ohio,
writes: "Mrs. Whitman was the mentor of her younger sisters in the
home. She joined the church when eleven years old, and from her early
years expressed a desire to be a missionary. The wedding occurred in
the church at Angelica, N. Y., to which place my father had removed,
and the ceremony was performed by the Rev. Everett Hull. I recollect
how deeply interested the two Indian boys were in the ceremony, and
how their faces brightened when the doctor told them that Mrs. Whitman
would go back with them to Oregon. We all had the greatest faith and
trust in Dr. Whitman, and in all our letters from our dear sister
there was never a word of regret or repining at the life she had
chosen."
The two Indian boys were placed in school and learned to read and
speak English during the Winter.
The journey down the Ohio and up the Mississippi and Missouri Rivers
was tedious, but uneventful.
Those who navigated the Missouri River, fifty years ago, have not
forgotten its snags and sand bars, which caused a constant chattering
of the bells in the engineer's room from morning until evening, and
all through the night, unless the prudent captain tied up to the
shore. The man and his "lead line" was constantly on the prow singing
out "twelve feet," "quarter past twain," then suddenly "six feet,"
when the bells would ring out as the boat's nose would bury in the
concealed sandbar.
But the party safely reached its destination, and was landed with all
its effects, wagons, stock and outfit.
The company was made up of Dr. and Mrs. Whitman, Rev. Mr. and Mrs.
Spalding, H. H. Gray, two teamsters and the two Indian boys.
The American Fur Company, which was sending out a convoy to their port
in Oregon, had promised to start from Council Bluffs upon a given
date, and make them welcome members of the company. It was a large
company made up of two hundred men and six hundred animals. On the
journey in from Oregon, in 1835, cholera had attacked the company, and
Dr. Whitman had rendered such faithful and efficient service that they
felt under obligations to him. But they had heard there were to be
women along and the old mountaineers did not want to be bothered with
women upon such a journey, and they moved out promptly without waiting
for the doctor's party, which had been delayed.
When Dr. Whitman reached Council Bluffs and found them gone, he was
greatly disturbed. There was nothing to do but make forced marches and
catch the train before it reached the more dangerous Indian country.
Dr. Spalding would have liked to have found it an excuse to return
home, but Mrs. Spalding remarked: "I have started to the Rocky
Mountains and I expect to go there."
Spalding in a dressing gown in his study, or in a city pulpit, would
have been in his element, but he was not especially marked for an
Indian missionary. Early in the campaign a Missouri cow kicked him off
the ferryboat into the river. The ague racked every bone in his body,
and a Kansas tornado at one time lifted both his tent and his blanket
and left him helpless. He seemed to catch every disaster that came
along. A man may have excellent points in his make-up, as Dr. Spalding
had, and yet not be a good pioneer.
He and his noble wife made a grand success, however, when they got
into the field of work. It was Mrs. Spalding who first translated
Bible truths and Christian songs into the Indian dialect.
It seemed a discouraging start for the little company when compelled
to pull out upon the boundless plains alone. But led by Whitman, they
persevered and caught the convoy late in May.
The doctor's boys now proved of good service. They were patient and
untiring and at home on the trail. They took charge of all the loose
stock. The cows they were taking along would be of great value upon
reaching their destination, and they proved to be of value along the
journey as well, as milk suppliers for the little party.
The first part of the journey Mrs. Whitman rode mainly in the wagon
with Mrs. Spalding, who was not strong enough for horseback riding.
But soon she took to her pony and liked it so much better, that she
rode nearly all the way on horseback. They were soon initiated into
the trials and dangers of the journey.
On May 9th Mrs. Whitman writes in her diary: "We had great difficulty
to-day. Husband became so completely exhausted with swimming the
river, that it was with difficulty he made the shore the last time. We
had but one canoe, made of skins, and that was partly eaten by the
dogs the night before."
She speaks of "meeting large bodies of Pawnee Indians," and says:
"They seemed very much surprised and pleased to see white women. They
were noble looking Indians.
"We attempted, by a hard march, to reach Loup Fork. The wagons got
there at eleven at night, but husband and I rode with the Indian boys
until nine o'clock, when Richard proposed that we go on and they would
stay with the loose cattle upon the prairie, and drive them in early
in the morning. We did not like to leave them and concluded to stay.
Husband had a cup tied to his saddle, and in this he milked what we
wanted to drink; this was our supper. Our saddle-blankets with our
rubber-cloaks were our beds. Having offered thanksgiving for the
blessings of the day, and seeking protection for the night, we
committed ourselves to rest. We awoke refreshed and rode into camp
before breakfast."
Here they caught up with the Fur Company caravan, after nearly a
month's traveling. These brave women, with their kindness and tact,
soon won the good-will and friendship of the old plainsmen, and every
vestige of opposition to having women in the train disappeared and
every possible civility and courtesy was extended to them. One
far-seeing old American trader, who had felt the iron heel of the
English Company beyond the Stony Mountains, pointing to the little
missionary band, prophetically remarked: "There is something that the
Honorable Hudson Bay Company cannot drive out of Oregon."
In her diary of the journey, Mrs. Whitman never expresses a fear, and
yet remembering my own sensations upon the same journey, I can
scarcely conceive that two delicately nurtured women would not be
subjected to great anxieties.
The Platte River, in that day, was but little understood and looked
much worse than it really was. Where forded it was a mile wide, and
not often more than breast deep to the horses. Two men, on the best
horses, rode fifty yards in advance of the wagons, zig-zagging up and
down, while the head-driver kept an eye open for the shallowest
water and kept upon the bar. In doing this a train would sometimes
have to travel nearly twice the distance of the width of the river to
get across. The bed of the river is made of shifting sand, and a team
is not allowed to stop for a moment, or it will steadily settle down
and go out of sight.
[Illustration: DR. MARCUS WHITMAN.
At the time of his marriage.]
A balky team or a break in the harness requires prompt relief or all
will be lost. But after all the Platte River is remembered by all old
plainsmen with a blessing. For three hundred miles it administered to
the comfort of the pioneers.
It is even doubtful whether they could have gone the journey had it
not been for the Platte, as it rolls its sands down into the Missouri.
The water is turbid with sand at all times, as the winds in their wide
sweep across sandy plains perpetually add to its supply. But the water
when dipped up over night and the sand allowed to settle, is clear and
pure and refreshing.
The pioneers, however, took the Platte water as it ran, often
remarking: "In this country a fellow needs sand and the Platte was
built to furnish it." In June Mrs. Whitman writes: "We are now in the
buffalo country and my husband and I relish it; he has a different way
of cooking every part of the animal."
Mrs. Whitman makes the following entry in her diary, for the benefit
of her young sisters:
"Now, H. and E., you must not think it very hard to have to get up so
early after sleeping on the soft ground, when you find it hard work to
open your eyes at seven o'clock. Just think of me every morning. At
the word 'Arise!' we all spring. While the horses are feeding we get
breakfast in a hurry and eat it. By that time the words 'Catch up,
catch up,' ring throughout the camp for moving. We are ready to start
usually at six, travel until eleven, encamp, rest and feed, and start
again at two and travel till six and if we come to a good tavern, camp
for the night."
A certain number of men were set apart for hunters each day and they
were expected to bring in four mule loads of meat to supply the daily
demands. While in the buffalo country this was an easy task; when it
came to deer, antelope and birds, it was much more difficult work.
The antelope is a great delicacy, but he is the fleetest footed runner
upon the plains and has to be captured, generally, by strategy. He has
an inordinate curiosity. The hunter lies down and waves a red
handkerchief on the end of his ramrod and the whole herd seems to have
the greatest desire to know what it is. They gallop around, trot high
and snort and keep coming nearer, until within gun shot they pay
dearly for their curiosity.
To avoid danger and failure of meat supplies before leaving the
buffalo country, the company stopped and laid in a good supply of
jerked buffalo meat. It was well they did, for it was about all they
had for a long distance. As Mrs. Whitman says in her diary:
"Dried buffalo meat and tea for breakfast, and tea and dried buffalo
meat for supper," but jokingly adds: "The doctor gives it variety by
cooking every part of the animal in a different way." But after all it
was a novel menu for a bridal trip.
By a strange miscalculation they ran out of flour before the journey
was half ended. But, says Mrs. Whitman, "My health continues good, but
sister Spalding has been made sick by the diet."
On July 22d, she writes:
"Had a tedious ride until four p. m. I thought of my mother's bread as
a child would, but did not find it. I should relish it extremely well.
But we feel that the good Father has blessed us beyond our most
sanguine expectations. It is good to feel that He is all I want and if
I had ten thousand lives I would give them all to Him."
The road discovered by the pioneers through the South Pass seems to
have been made by nature on purpose to unite the Pacific with the
Atlantic slope by an easy wagon road. The Wind River and Rocky
Mountains appear to have run out of material, or spread out to make it
an easy climb. So gentle is the ascent the bulk of the way that the
traveler is scarcely aware of the fact that he is climbing the great
"Stony Mountains."
Fremont discovered the pass in 1842 and went through it again in 1843,
and Stanbury in 1849, but it is well to remember that upon this
notable bridal tour, these Christian ladies passed over the same route
six years before "The Pathfinder," or the engineer corps of the United
States, ever saw it.
It is always an object of interest to know when the top has been
reached and to see the famous spring from which the water divides and
runs both ways. Our missionary band, accustomed to have regular
worship on the plains, when they reached the dividing of the waters
held an especially interesting service. The Rev. Dr. Jonathan Edwards
graphically describes it. He says:
"There is a scene connected with their journey which demands
extraordinary attention in view of its great significance. It is one
that arouses all that is good within us, and has been pronounced as
hardly paralleled in American records for historic grandeur and
far-reaching consequence. It is sublimely beautiful and inspiring in
its effects, and would baffle the genius of a true poet to describe it
with adequate fitness. They were yet high on the Rocky Mountains, with
the great expanse of the Pacific slope opening before them like a
magnificent panorama. Their hearts were profoundly moved as they
witnessed the landscape unfolding its delightful scenes, and as they
viewed the vast empire given them to win for King Emanuel.
"There we find the little group of five missionaries, and the two Nez
Perces boys that Whitman took with him to New York selecting a spot
where the bunch grass grows high and thick. Their hearts go out to God
in joyful adoration for His protecting care over them thus far,
especially so, because they felt the greatest difficulties had been
overcome and they now entered the country for the people of which they
had devoted their lives. The sky is bright above them, the sun shines
serenely and the atmosphere is light and invigorating. The sun
continues his course and illuminates the western horizon like a flame
of fire, as if striving to give them a temporary glimpse of the vast
domain between them and the Pacific Ocean. They spread their blankets
carefully on the grass, and lifted the American flag to wave
gracefully in the breeze, and with the Bible in the center, they
knelt, and with prayer and praise on their lips, they take possession
of the western side of the American continent in His name who
proclaimed "Peace on earth and good will toward men." How strongly it
evidences their faith in their mission and the conquering power of the
King of Peace. What a soul-inspiring scene."
Continuing her diary, Mrs. Whitman says: "I have been in a peaceful
state of mind all day."
July 25th she writes: "The ride has been very mountainous, paths only
winding along the sides of steep mountains, in many places so narrow
that the animal would scarcely find room to place his foot."
It is upon this date that she again mourns over the doctor's
persistence in hauling along his historic wagon. Even the good wife in
full sympathy with her husband failed to see it as he did; it was the
pioneer chariot, loaded with a richness that no wagon before or since
contained.
On July 25th: "Husband has had a tedious time with the wagon to-day.
It got stuck in the creek, and on the mountain side, so steep that the
horses could scarcely climb, it was upset twice. It was a wonder that
it was not turning somersaults continually. It is not grateful to my
feelings to see him wearing himself out with excessive fatigue. All
the most difficult portions of the way he has walked, in a laborious
attempt to take the wagon." Those who have gone over the same road and
remember the hard pulls at the end of long ropes, where there was
plenty of help, will wonder most that he succeeded.
The company arrived at Fort Hall on August 1st. Here they succeeded in
buying a little rice, which was regarded a valuable addition to their
slender stock of eatables. They had gone beyond the buffalo range and
had to live upon the dried meat, venison and wild ducks or fish, all
of which were scarce and in limited supply.
Speaking of crossing Snake River Mrs. Whitman says: "We put the packs
on the tallest horses, the highest being selected for Mrs. Spalding
and myself.
"The river where we crossed is divided into three branches, by
islands. The last branch is half a mile wide and so deep as to come up
to the horses' sides, and a very strong current. The wagon turned
upside down in the current, and the mules were entangled in the
harness. I once thought of the terrors of the rivers, but now I cross
the most difficult streams without a fear."
Among the novel ferries she speaks of was a dried elk skin with two
ropes attached. The party to be ferried lies flat down on the skin and
two Indian women swimming, holding the ropes in their mouths, pull it
across the stream.
One of the notable qualities of Dr. Whitman was his observance of the
small things in every-day life. Many a man who reaches after grand
results overlooks and neglects the little events. Mrs. Whitman says:
"For weeks and weeks our camping places have been upon open plains
with not a tree in sight, but even here we find rest and comfort. My
husband, the best the world ever produced, is always ready to provide
a comfortable shade from the noonday sun when we stop. With one of
our saddle-blankets stretched across the sage brush or upheld by
sticks, our saddle blankets and fishamores placed on the ground, our
resting is delightful."
Among the notable events of the journey was when the party reached
Green River, the place of annual meeting of the Indians and the
traders. It was this place that Dr. Whitman had reached the year
previous. The Green is one of the large branches of the Colorado,
which heads among the snow banks of Fremont's Peak, a thousand miles
away. In its picturesque rugged beauty few sections excel the scenery
along the river, and now the whole scene, alive with frontier and
savage life, was one to impress itself indelibly upon the memories of
our travelers.
There were about two hundred traders and two thousand Indians,
representatives of tribes located many hundreds of miles distant. The
Cayuse and Nez Perces, who expected Dr. Whitman and his delegation,
were present to honor the occasion, and meet the boys, John and
Richard, who had accompanied the doctor from this place the year
before. The Indians expressed great delight over the successful
journey; but most of all they were delighted with the noble white
squaws who had come over the long trail. They were demonstrative and
scoured the mountains for delicacies in game from the woods and
brought trout from the river, and seemed constantly to fear that they
were neglecting some courtesy expected of them.
They finally got up a war tournament, and six hundred armed and
mounted Indians, in their war paint, with savage yells bore down
toward the tents of the ladies, and it was almost too realistic of
savage life to be enjoyed.
Here the brides were permitted to rest for ten days, and until their
tired animals could recuperate. The scenery along the last three
hundred miles was most charming, and almost made the travelers forget
the precipitous climbs and the steep descents. The days sped past, and
the wagon being left behind to be sent for later on, the wedding party
marched more rapidly. They reached Walla Walla River, eight miles from
the fort, the last day of August, and on September 1st they made an
early start and galloped into the fort. The party was hospitably
received.
Says Mrs. Whitman: "They were just eating breakfast when we arrived,
and soon we were seated at the table and treated to fresh salmon,
potatoes, tea, bread and butter. What a variety, thought I. You cannot
imagine what an appetite these rides in the mountains give a person."
We have preferred to let Mrs. Whitman tell in her own way the story of
this memorable wedding journey. The reader will look in vain for any
mourning or disquietude. Two noble women started in to be the
helpmeets of two good men, and what a grand success they made of it.
There is nowhere any spirit of grumbling, but on the contrary, a
joyousness and exhilaration. True womanhood of all time is honored in
the lives of such women. It was but the coming of the first white
women who ever crossed the Rocky Mountains and notable as an heroic
wedding journey, but to the world it was not only exalted heroism, but
a great historic event, the building of an empire whose wide-reaching
good cannot easily be overestimated.
It was an event unparalleled in real or romantic literature, and so
pure and exalted in its motives, and prosecuted so unostentatiously,
as to honor true womanhood for all time to come.
CHAPTER V.
MISSION LIFE IN WAIILATPUI.
Most writers speak of the Mission at Waiilatpui, as "The Presbyterian
Mission." While it does not much matter whether it was Presbyterian or
Congregational, it is well to have the history correct. The two great
churches at that time were united in their foreign missionary work,
and their missionaries were taken from both denominations. A year or
more ago I asked the late Professor Marcus Whitman Montgomery, of the
Chicago Theological Seminary (a namesake of Dr. Whitman), to go over
Dr. Whitman's church record while in Boston. He sends me the
following, which may be regarded as authentic:
Ravenswood, Chicago, Jan. 5, 1894.
Dr. O. W. Nixon:
Dear Sir--The record of Dr. Whitman's church membership is
as follows: Converted during a revival in the
Congregational Church at Plainfield, Mass., in 1819, Rev.
Moses Hallock, pastor. His first joining of a church was
at Rushville, Yates County, N. Y., where he joined the
Congregational Church in 1824, Rev. David Page, pastor. He
was a member of this church for nine years, then he
removed to Wheeler Center, Steuben County, N. Y. There
being no Congregational Church there he joined the
Presbyterian Church of Wheeler Center, Rev. James T.
Hotchkiss, pastor. He was a member of this Presbyterian
Church for three years, then he went to the Pacific Coast.
This mission church was Presbyterian in name and
Congregational in practice, while Whitman and the other
missionaries were supported by the American Board. The
American Board was always Congregational, but, at that
time, the Presbyterians were co-operating with the
American Board.
These are the bottom facts as I have every reason to
believe. Very truly yours,
MARCUS WHITMAN MONTGOMERY.
The Rev. H. H. Spalding was a Presbyterian, and the Mission Church was
Presbyterian in name, but was Congregational in practice, and had a
confession of faith and covenant of its own. While the record shows
Whitman to have been a Congregationalist, it also shows that he united
with the Presbyterian Church when he settled at Wheeler Center, N. Y.,
where there was no Congregational Church. But the fact remains that
his memory and the acts of his grand life are amply sufficient to
interest both these great denominations.
Mrs. Whitman joined the Presbyterian Church when a young girl of
eleven.
Dr. Whitman was born at Rushville, N. Y., September 4, 1802, and was
thirty-three years old when he entered upon his work in Oregon. When
first converted he resolved to study for the ministry, but a chain of
circumstances changed his plans and he studied medicine. The early
hardships and privations educated him into an admirable fitness for
the chosen work of his life.
Picture that little missionary band as they stood together at Fort
Walla Walla in September, 1836, and consulted about the great problems
to solve. It was all new. There were no precedents to guide them. They
easily understood that the first thing to do was to consult the ruling
powers of Oregon--the Hudson Bay Company officials at Fort Vancouver.
This would require another journey of three hundred miles, but as it
could be made in boats, and the Indians were capital oarsmen, they
resolved to take their wives with them, and thus complete the wedding
journey.
The gallant Dr. McLoughlin, Chief Factor of the Hudson Bay Company,
was a keen judge of human nature, and read men and women as scholars
read books, and he was captivated with the open, manly ways of Dr.
Whitman and the womanly accomplishments of the fair young wife, who
had braved the perils of an overland journey with wholly unselfish
purposes. Whitman soon developed to Dr. McLoughlin all his plans and
his hopes. Perhaps there was a professional free masonry between the
men that brought them closer together, but, by nature, they were both
men endowed richly with the best manly characters.
Dr. McLoughlin resolved to do the best thing possible for them, while
he still protected the interests of his great monopoly. Dr. Whitman's
idea, was to build one mission at the Dalles so as to be convenient to
shipping; McLoughlin at once saw it would not do. He had already
pushed the Methodist Mission far up the Willamette out of the way of
the fort and its work, and argued with Whitman that it would be best
for him to go to the Walla Walla country, three hundred miles away,
and Spalding, one hundred and twenty-five miles farther on.
He argued that the river Indians were far less hopeful subjects to
deal with, and that the bunch grass Indians, the Cayuse and Nez
Perces, had expressed a great anxiety for teachers. This arrangement
had been partially agreed to by Mr. Parker the year before. After a
full canvass of the entire subject, Dr. McLoughlin promised all the
aid in his power to give them a comfortable start.
At his earnest petition, Mrs. Whitman and Mrs. Spalding remained at
Vancouver while their husbands went back to erect houses that would
shelter them from the coming winter. To make Mrs. Whitman feel at
ease, and that she was not taxing the generosity of their new friends,
Dr. McLoughlin placed his daughter under her instruction, both in her
class work and music. Every effort was made to interest and entertain
the guests; the afternoons were given to excursions on the water, or
on horseback, or in rambles through the great fir forests, still as
wild as nature made them.
There is a grandeur in the great forest beyond the Stony Mountains
unequaled in any portion of the world. In our Northern latitudes the
undergrowth is so thick as to make comfortable traveling impossible,
but in the fir woods and in the pine and redwood forests of Oregon,
there are comparatively few of such obstructions. The great giants ten
or twelve feet in diameter, two hundred and seventy feet high, and one
hundred feet without a limb, hide the sun, and upon a summer day make
jaunts through the forest delightful to a lover of nature.
It was a grand rest and a pleasing finale to the hardships of the
wedding journey for these heroic women, and Mrs. Whitman, in her
diary, never a day neglects to remember her kind benefactors. They
rested here for about one and a half months, when Mr. Spalding came
after them and reported the houses so far advanced as to give them
shelter. We read the following note in Mrs. Whitman's diary, 1836:
"December 26th. Where are we now, and who are we, that we should be
thus blessed of the Lord? I can scarcely realize that we are thus
comfortably fixed and keeping house so soon after our marriage, when
considering what was then before us.
"We arrived here on the 10th, distance twenty-five miles from Fort
Walla Walla. Found a house reared and the lean-to enclosed, a good
chimney and fireplace and the floor laid. No windows or doors, except
blankets. My heart truly leaped for joy as I lighted from my horse,
entered and seated myself before a pleasant fire (for it was now
night). It occurred to me that my dear parents had made a similar
beginning and perhaps a more difficult one than ours.
"We had neither straw, bedstead or table, nor anything to make them of
except green cottonwood. All our boards are sawed by hand. Here my
husband and his laborers (two Owyhees from Vancouver, and a man who
crossed the mountains with us), and Mr. Gray had been encamped in a
tent since the 19th of October, toiling excessively hard to
accomplish this much for our comfortable residence during the
remainder of the winter.
"It is, indeed, a lovely situation. We are on a beautiful level
peninsula formed by the branches of the Walla Walla River, upon the
base of which our house stands, on the southeast corner, near the
shore of the main river. To run a fence across to the opposite river
on the north from our house--this, with the river, would enclose three
hundred acres of good land for cultivation, all directly under the
eye.
"The rivers are barely skirted with timber. This is all the woodland
we can see. Beyond them, as far as the eye can reach, plains and
mountains appear. On the east, a few rods from the house, is a range
of small hills covered with bunch grass, very excellent food for
animals and upon which they subsist during winter, even digging it
from under the snow."
[Illustration: MISSION STATION AT WAIILATPUI.]
This section is now reported as among the most fertile and beautiful
places in Washington. Looking away in a southeasterly direction, the
scenic beauty is grandly impressive. The Indians named the place
Wai-i-lat-pui (the place of rye grass). For twenty miles there is a
level reach of fertile soil through which flows like a silver thread
the Walla Walla River, while in the distance loom up toward the clouds
as a background the picturesque Blue Mountains. The greatest drawback
was the long distance to any timber suitable for making boards, and
the almost entire lack of helpers.
The Cayuse Indians seemed delighted with the prospect of a Mission
church and school, but they thought it disgraceful for them to work.
The doctor had to go from nine to fifteen miles to get his timber for
boards, and then hew or saw them out by hand. It was not, therefore,
strange, as Mrs. Whitman writes in her diary, December 26th: "No doors
or windows." From the day he entered upon his work, Dr. Whitman was
well-nigh an incessant toiler. Every year he built an addition to his
house.
T. J. Furnham, who wrote a book of "Travels Across the Great Western
Prairies and Rocky Mountains," visited the Whitman Mission in
September, 1839. He says: "I found 250 acres enclosed and 200 acres
under good cultivation. I found forty or fifty Indian children between
the ages of seven and eighteen years in school, and Mrs. Whitman an
indefatigable instructor. One building was in course of construction
and a small grist mill in running order."
He says again: "It appeared to me quite remarkable that the doctor
could have made so many improvements since the year 1836; but the
industry which crowded every hour of the day, his untiring energy of
character, and the very efficient aid of his wife in relieving him in
a great degree from the labors of the school, enabled him, without
funds for such purposes, and without other aid than that of a fellow
missionary for short intervals, to fence, plow, build, plant an
orchard, and do all the other laborious acts of opening a plantation
on the face of that distant wilderness, learn an Indian language, and
do the duties, meanwhile, of a physician to the associate stations on
the Clearwater and Spokane."
People who give their money for missionary work can easily see that in
the case in hand they received faithful service. This is no prejudiced
report, but facts based upon the knowledge of a stranger, who had no
reason to misrepresent or exaggerate.
One of the first efforts of Dr. Whitman was to induce his Indians to
build permanent homes, to plow, plant and sow. This the Hudson Bay
Company had always discouraged. They wanted their savage aids as
nomads and hunters, ready to move hundreds and hundreds of miles away
in search of furs. They had never been encouraged to raise either
grain or fruit, cattle or sheep.
Dr. Jonathan Edwards says, in speaking of The Whitman Mission in 1842:
"The Indians were cultivating from one-fourth to four acres of land,
had seventy head of cattle, and some of them a few sheep." The same
author gives a graphic description of the painstaking work of Dr. and
Mrs. Whitman, not only in the school room, but in the Indian home, to
show them the comforts and benefits of civilization. Every Indian who
will plant is furnished the seed.
He also describes the orderly Sunday at the Mission. Up to the year
1838 the principal meat used as food by the Mission was horse flesh.
The cattle were too few to be sacrificed in that way. In 1837 Mrs.
Whitman writes in her diary: "We have had but little venison furnished
by the Indians, but to supply our men and visitors we have bought of
the Indians and eaten ten wild horses."
In 1841 their stock of hogs and cattle had so increased that they were
able to make a partial change of diet.
Another witness to the value of Dr. Whitman's missionary work is
Joseph Drayton, of Commodore Wilkes' exploring expedition of 1841.
He says of the Mission: "All the premises looked comfortable, the
garden especially fine, vegetables and melons in great variety. The
wheat in the fields was seven feet high and nearly ripe, and the corn
nine feet in the tassel." He marks the drawbacks of the Mission: "The
roving of the Indians, rarely staying at home more than three months
at a time." "They are off after buffalo," and "again off after the
salmon," and "not more than fifty or sixty remain during the winter."
These Cayuse Indians were not a numerous band, but they were born
traders, were wealthy, and had a great influence over other tribes.
Their wealth consisted mainly in horses; a single Indian Chief owned
two thousand head. One of their good qualities Mrs. Whitman speaks of,
is, "there are no thieves among them." She has to keep nothing locked
out of fear from thieves; but they had one trying habit of which Mrs.
Whitman had great trouble to break them--that was, they thought they
had a right to go into every room in the house, and seemed to think
that something was wrong when deprived of visiting the bedrooms of the
family.
In June, 1839, a great sorrow came to Dr. and Mrs. Whitman. They had
but one child, a little girl of two years and three months old. In
their isolated condition one can easily imagine what a large place a
bright and attractive child would have in the heart of father and
mother in such a home. In the pursuance of his duties the doctor was
absent night after night, and some of his more distant patients
occupied him frequently many days.
It was at such times that Mrs. Whitman found great comfort and
happiness in her little daughter. The child had learned the Indian
language and spoke it fluently, to the delight of the Indians, and
had learned all the songs sung in the Nez Perces dialect, having
inherited the musical talent of her mother. It was in September, 1839,
that she was accidentally drowned in the Walla Walla River. In her
diary Mrs. Whitman writes to her mother:
"I cannot describe what our feelings were when night came and our dear
child a corpse in the next room. We went to bed, but not to sleep, for
sleep had departed from our eyes. The morning came, we arose, but our
child slept on. I prepared a shroud for her during the day; we kept
her four days; it was a great blessing and comfort to me so long as
she looked natural and was so sweet I could caress her. But when her
visage began to change I felt it a great privilege that I could put
her in so safe a resting place as the grave, to see her no more until
the resurrection morning.
"Although her grave is in sight every time I step out of the door, my
thoughts seldom wander there to find her. I look above with
unspeakable delight, and contemplate her as enjoying the full delights
of that bright world where her joys are perfect."
One seldom reads a more pathetic story than this recorded by Mrs.
Whitman, and yet, the almost heartbroken mother in her anguish never
murmurs or rebels. On the morning of the day she was drowned, Mrs.
Whitman writes, the little daughter was permitted to select a hymn
for the family worship. She made a selection of the old-time favorite:
"ROCK OF AGES."
"While I draw this fleeting breath,
When my eyelids close in death;
When I rise to worlds unknown,
And behold Thee on Thy Throne;
Rock of ages cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee."
When the Indians came in for the afternoon service Dr. Whitman turned
to the same hymn and the baby girl again with her sweet voice joined
in the singing. Says Mrs. Whitman:
"This was the last we heard her sing. Little did we think that her
young life was so fleeting or that those sparkling eyes would so soon
be closed in death, and her spirit rise to worlds unknown to behold on
His Throne of glory Him who said: 'I will be a God to thee and thy
seed after thee.'"
They got water for the household use from the running river, and the
two little tin cups were found on the edge of the water. An old Indian
dived in and soon brought out the body, but life was extinct.
The profoundly Christian character of the mother is revealed in every
note of the sad event.
She writes: "Lord, it is right; it is right. She is not mine, but
thine; she was only lent to me to comfort me for a little season, and
now, dear Savior, Thou hast the best right to her. Thy will, not mine,
be done." Perils and hardships had long been theirs, but this was
their great sorrow. But it only seemed to excite them to greater
achievements in the work before them. Not a single interest was
neglected.
The sudden death of "The Little White Cayuse," as the Indians called
her, seemed to estrange the Indians from the Mission. They almost
worshiped her, and came almost daily to see her and hear her sing the
Cayuse songs. The old Chief had many times said: "When I die I give
everything I have to the 'Little White Cayuse.'" From this time on the
Indians frequently showed a bad spirit. They saw the flocks and herds
of the Mission increasing, and the fields of waving grain, and began
to grow jealous and make demands that would have overtaxed and caused
fear in almost any other man than a Whitman.
Both before and after his memorable ride to Washington, his good
friend, Dr. McLoughlin, many times begged him to leave the Mission for
a while, until the Indians got in a better frame of mind. No man knew
the Indians so well as McLoughlin, and he saw the impending danger;
but no entreaties moved Whitman. Here was his life work and here he
would remain.
In these sketches there is no effort to tell the complete Oregon
Mission story, but only so much of it as will make clear the heroic
and patriotic services of Dr. and Mrs. Whitman. The reader will find a
most careful study of the whole broad field of pioneer mission work
upon the Pacific Coast in the Rev. Myron Eells' two books, the
"History of Indian Missions," and the "Biography of Rev. Cushing
Eells."
How much or how little the work of the Oregon Missionaries benefited
the Indians eternity alone will reveal. They simply obeyed the call
"to preach the gospel to every creature."
A train of circumstances, a series of evolutions in national history
which they neither originated nor could stop, were portending. But
that the Missionaries first of all saw the drift of coming events, and
wisely guided them to the peace and lasting good of the nation is as
plain as any page of written history.
With the light of that time, with the terrible massacre at Waiilatpui
in sight, it is not strange that good people felt that there had been
great sacrifice with small good results. All the years since have been
correcting such false estimates. The American Board and the Christian
people of the land have made their greatest mistake in not rallying to
the defense of their martyr heroes.
No "forty thousand dollars" ever spent by that organization before or
since has been so prolific in good. The argument to sustain this
assertion will be found in other sketches.
The United States Government could well afford to give a million
dollars every year to the American Board for fifty years to come, and
to endow Whitman College magnificently, and then not pay a moiety for
the benefit it has received as a nation, and never acknowledged.
The best possible answer of the church and of the friends of missions
to those who sneeringly ask, What good has resulted to the world for
all the millions spent on missions? is to point to that neglected
grave at Waiilatpui, and recite the story of heroism and patriotism of
Dr. Marcus Whitman.
CHAPTER VI.
THE RIDE TO SAVE OREGON.
The world loves a hero, and the pioneer history of our several States
furnishes as interesting characters as are anywhere recorded. In view
of the facts and conditions already recited, the old Missionaries were
anxious and restless, and yet felt in a measure powerless to avert the
danger threatened. They believed fully that under the terms of the
treaty of 1818, re-affirmed in 1828, whichever nationality settled and
organized the territory, that nation would hold it.
This was not directly affirmed in the terms of that treaty, but was so
interpreted by the Americans and English in Oregon, and was greatly
strengthened by the fact that leading statesmen in Congress had for
nearly half a century wholly neglected Oregon, and time and again gone
upon record as declaring it worthless and undesirable. In their
conferences the Missionaries from time to time had gone over the whole
question, and did everything in their power to encourage immigration.
Their glowing accounts of the fertility of the soil, the balmy
climate, the towering forests, the indications of richness in
minerals, had each year induced a limited number of more daring
Americans to immigrate.
In this work of the Missionaries Jason Lee, the chief of the Methodist
Missions, was, up to the date of the incident we are to narrate, the
most successful of all. He was a man of great strength of character.
Like Whitman, he was also a man of great physical strength, fearless,
and, with it all, wise and brainy. No other man among the pioneers,
for his untiring energy in courting immigration, can be so nearly
classed with Whitman.
They were all men, who, though in Oregon to convert Indian savages to
Christianity, yet were intensely American. They thought it no abuse of
their Christianity to carry the banner of the Cross in one hand and
the banner of their country in the other. Missionaries as they were,
thousands of miles from home, neglected by the Government, yet the
love of country seemed to shine with constantly increasing luster.
In addition to the Missionaries, at the time of which we write, there
was quite a population of agriculturists and traders in the near
vicinity of each mission. These heartily coöperated with the
Missionaries and shared their anxieties. In 1840-'41 many of them met
and canvassed the subject whether they should make an attempt to
organize a government under the Stars and Stripes; but they easily saw
that they were outnumbered by the English, who were already organized
and were the real autocrats of the country.
So the time passed until the fall of 1842, when Elijah White, an
Indian agent for the Government in the Northwest, brought a party of
Americans, men, women and children, numbering one hundred and twenty,
safely through to Waiilatpui. In this company was a more than usually
intelligent, well-informed Christian gentleman, destined to fill an
important place in our story, General Amos L. Lovejoy. He was
thoroughly posted in national affairs, and gave Dr. Whitman his first
intimation of the probability that the Ashburton Treaty would likely
come to a crisis before Congress adjourned in March, 1843. This
related, as it was supposed, to the entire boundary between the United
States and the English possessions.
The question had been raised in 1794, "Where is 'the angle of Nova
Scotia,' and where are the 'highlands between the angle and the
northwest head of the Connecticut River?'" Time and again it had been
before commissioners, and diplomats had many times grown eloquent in
explaining, but heretofore nothing had come of it. Much was made of
it, and yet it was only a dispute as to who owned some twelve thousand
and twenty acres of land, much of which was of little value.
Looking back now one wonders at the shortsightedness of statesmen who
quarreled for forty-eight years over this garden patch of rocky land
in Maine, when three great states were quietly slipping away with
scarcely a protest. But this arrival of recruits, and this knowledge
of the political situation revealed by General Lovejoy, at once
settled Dr. Whitman upon his line of duty.
To Mrs. Whitman he at once explained the situation, and said he felt
impelled to go to Washington. She was a missionary's wife, a
courageous, true-hearted, patriotic woman, who loved and believed in
her husband, and at once consented. Under the rules the local members
of the Mission had to be consulted, and runners were at once
dispatched to the several stations, and all responded promptly, as the
demand was for their immediate presence.
There was a second rule governing such cases of leave of absence, and
that was the sanction, from headquarters, of the American Board in
Boston. But in this emergency Dr. Whitman preferred to take all the
responsibility and cut the red tape. Dr. Eells, one of the noblest of
the old Missionaries, writes an account of that conference, and it is
all the more valuable from the fact that he was opposed to the
enterprise.
Dr. Eells says: "The purpose of Dr. Whitman was fixed. In his
estimation the saving of Oregon to the United Spates was of paramount
importance, and he would make the attempt to do so, even if he had to
withdraw from the Mission in order to accomplish his purpose. In reply
to considerations intended to hold Dr. Whitman to his assigned work,
he said: 'I am not expatriated by becoming a missionary.'
"The idea of his withdrawal could not be entertained. Therefore, to
retain him in the Mission, a vote to approve of his making this
perilous endeavor prevailed."
In addition to this the Doctor undoubtedly intended to visit the
American Board and explain the mission work and its needs, and protest
against some of its orders. But in this there was no need of such
haste as to cause the mid-winter journey. In this note of Dr. Eells
the explanation is doubtless correct.
Dr. Spalding says: "Dr. Whitman's last remarks were, as he mounted his
horse for the long journey: 'If the Board dismisses me, I will do what
I can to save Oregon to the country. My life is of but little worth
if I can save this country to the American people.'"
They all regarded it a most perilous undertaking. They knew well of
the hardships of such a journey in the summer season, when grass could
be found to feed the stock, and men live in comfort in the open air.
But to all their pleadings and specifications of danger, Dr. Whitman
had but one reply, "I must go." As Dr. Eells says:--"They finally all
yielded when he said, 'I will go, even if I have to break my
connection with the American Board.'" They all loved him, and he was
too valuable a man for them to allow that.
Besides, they became thoroughly convinced that the man and the
missionary had received a call from a higher source than an earthly
one, and a missionary board should not stand in the way. It was
resolved that he must not be allowed to make such a journey alone. A
call was at once made, "Who will volunteer to go with him?" Again the
unseen power was experienced when General Lovejoy said: "I will go
with Dr. Whitman."
The man seems to have been sent for just such a purpose. Aside from
the fact that he was tired out with the long five months' ride upon
the plains, and had not been fully rested, no better man could have
been chosen. He was an educated, Christian gentleman, full of
cheerfulness, brave, cautious, and a true friend.
[Illustration: MRS. NARCISSA PRENTICE WHITMAN.]
Mrs. Whitman, in her diary, dwells upon this with loving
thoughtfulness, and her soul breaks forth in thanksgiving to the good
Father above, who has sent so good and true a companion for the long
and dangerous journey. She refers to it again and again that he will
have a friend in his hours of peril and danger, and not have to depend
entirely upon the savages for his society.
The conference passed a resolution, as stated, giving leave of absence
and fixed the time for his starting in "five days" from that day. It
was not often they had such an opportunity for letter-carriers, and
each began a voluminous correspondence.
The Doctor set about his active preparations, arranging his outfit and
seeing that everything was in order. The next day he had a call to see
a sick man at old Fort Walla Walla, and as he needed many articles for
his journey which could be had there, he went with this double
purpose. He found at the Fort a score or more of traders, clerks and
leading men of the Hudson Bay Company, assembled there. They were
nearly all Englishmen, and the discussion soon turned upon the treaty,
and the outlook, and as might be inferred, was not cheering to
Whitman. But his object was to gain information and not to argue.
The dinner was soon announced and the Doctor sat down to a royal
banquet with his jovial English friends. For no man was more highly
esteemed by all than was Whitman. The chief factor at Vancouver, Dr.
McLoughlin, from the very outset of their acquaintance, took a liking
to both the Doctor and Mrs. Whitman, and in hundreds of cases showed
them marked and fatherly kindness. Mrs. Whitman, in her diary,
recently published in the proceedings of the Oregon State Historical
Society, mainly in the years 1891 and 1893, often refers to the
fatherly kindness of the good old man whose home she shared for weeks
and months, and he begged her when first reaching Oregon to stop all
winter and wait until her own humble home could be made comfortable.
But while the company were enjoying their repast, an express messenger
of the company arrived from Fort Colville, three hundred and fifty
miles up the Columbia, and electrified his audience by the
announcement that a colony of one hundred and forty Englishmen and
Canadians were on the road.
In such a company it is easy to see such an announcement was exciting
news. One young priest threw his cap in the air and shouted, "Hurrah
for Oregon--America is too late, we have got the country."
Dr. Whitman carefully concealed all his intentions--in fact, this was
enjoined upon all the missionary band, as publicity would likely
defeat any hope of good results. Those who will take the pains to
read Mrs. Whitman's diary will notice how she avoids saying anything
to excite comment regarding the purposes of his winter visit to
Washington. In her letter to her father and mother she simply says: "I
expect my dear husband will be so full of his great work that he will
forget to tell you of our life in Oregon. He can explain what it is,"
etc.
It is said "Women cannot keep a secret," but here is an instance of
one that did. In his absence she visited Fort Vancouver, Astoria,
Oregon City, and other points. She is painstaking in keeping a regular
record of every-day events. But the secret of his mission to the
States was perfectly safe with the good wife.
As soon as the Doctor could with politeness excuse himself, he mounted
his pony and galloped away home, pondering the news he had received.
By the time he reached Waiilatpui he resolved there must be no
tarrying for "five days." On the morning of the third day after the
conference the spirit was upon him, and he took such messages as were
ready, and on October 3d, 1842, bade a long good-bye to his wife and
home, and the two men, their guide, and three pack mules, began that
ever memorable journey--escorted for a long distance by many Cayuse
braves.
Intelligent readers of all classes can easily mark the heroism of
such an undertaking under such circumstances, but the old plainsman
and the mountaineer who know the terrors of the journey, will point to
it as without a parallel in all history. It was surmised by most that
it was "A ride down to the valley of the shadow of death."
It is comforting and assuring of that power which sustains a believing
soul, to turn the pages of the diary of Mrs. Whitman, as day by day
she follows the little caravan with thought and prayer, and see with
what confidence she expresses the belief that an Almighty Arm is
guiding her loved one in safety through all perils.
It is easy to surmise the feelings of the Missionary band when they
sent in their letters and messages and learned that the Doctor was far
on his journey and had not waited the required limit of "five days."
The echo of dissatisfaction was heard even for years after, very much
to the disturbance of the good wife. And she in her diary expresses
profound thankfulness when, years after, the last vestige of criticism
ceased and the old cordiality was restored.
As for Dr. Whitman, with his whole being impressed with the importance
of his work and the need for haste, it is doubtful whether he even
remembered the "five days" limit.
The great thought with him was, I must reach Washington before
Congress adjourns, or all may be lost. The after disclosures convinced
the aggrieved Missionaries that Whitman was right, and they deeply
regretted some of the sharp criticisms they made and wrote East.
With horses fresh, the little company made a rapid ride, reaching Fort
Hall in eleven days. The road thus far was plain and familiar to every
member of the party. Prior to leaving home there had been rumors that
the Blackfoot Indians had suddenly grown hostile, and would make the
journey dangerous along the regular line of travel.
Upon reaching Fort Hall, Captain Grant, who seems to have been placed
at that point solely to discourage and defeat immigration, set about
his task in the usual way. Without knowing, he shrewdly suspected that
the old Missionary had business of importance on hand which it would
be well to thwart. He had before had many a tilt with Whitman and knew
something of his determination. It was Grant who had almost compelled
every incoming settler to forsake his wagon at Fort Hall, sacrifice
his goods, and force women and children to ride on horseback or go on
foot the balance of the journey.
Six years before he had plead with Whitman to do this, and had failed,
and Whitman had thus taken the first wagon into Oregon that ever
crossed the Rockies. Now he set about to defeat his journey to the
States. He told of the hopelessness of a journey over the Rocky
Mountains, with snow already twenty feet deep. He also informed him
that from recent advices the Sioux and Pawnee Indians were at war, and
it would be almost certain death to the party to undertake to pass
through their country.
This, all told for a single purpose, was partly true and partly false.
The writer, a few years after, when war broke out between the
Cheyennes and the Pawnees, passed entirely through the Cheyenne
country and was treated with the utmost courtesy and kindness by the
Cheyenne braves.
But Captain Grant's argument had more effect upon Whitman than upon a
former occasion. The Captain even began to hope that he had
effectually blocked the way. But he was dealing with a man of great
grit, not easily discouraged, and, we may say it reverently, an
inspired man. He had started to go to the States and he would continue
his journey.
Captain Grant was at his wits' end. He had no authority to stop
Whitman and his party; he carried with him a permit signed by "Lewis
Cass, Secretary of War," commanding all in authority to protect, aid,
etc.
The American Board was as careful in having all Oregon missionaries
armed with such credentials as if sending them to a foreign land,
and, in fact, there was no vestige of American government in Oregon in
that day. The Hudson Bay Company, wholly English, ruled over
everything, whether whites or Indians.
Much to Captain Grant's chagrin, Whitman, instead of turning backward,
set out southeast to discover a new route to the States. He knew in a
general way the lay of the mountain ranges, but he had never heard
that a white man's foot had passed that way. First east and south from
Fort Hall, in the direction of the now present site of Salt Lake City,
from thence to Fort Uintah and Fort Uncompahgra, then to Taos, Santa
Fe, to Bent's Fort, and St. Louis. This course led them over some very
rough mountainous country.
In his diary Gen. Lovejoy says: "From Fort Hall to Fort Uintah we met
with terribly severe weather. The deep snow caused us to lose much
time. Here we took a new guide to Fort Uncompahgra on Grand River in
Spanish country, which we safely reached and employed a new guide
there. Passing over a high mountain on our way to Taos we encountered
a terrible snow storm, which compelled us to seek shelter in a dark
defile, and although we made several attempts to press on, we were
detained some ten days. When we got upon the mountain again we met
with another violent snow storm, which almost blinded man and beast.
The pelting snow and cold made the dumb brutes well-nigh
unmanageable."
Finally the guide stopped and acknowledged he was lost and would go no
farther, and they resolved to return to their camp in the sheltered
ravine. But the drifting snow had obliterated every sign of the path
by which they had come, and the guide acknowledged that he could not
direct the way. In this dire dilemma, says Gen. Lovejoy, "Dr. Whitman
dismounted and upon his knees in the snow commended himself, his
distant wife, his missionary companions and work, and his Oregon, to
the Infinite One for guidance and protection.
"The lead mule left to himself by the guide, turning his long ears
this way and that, finally started plunging through the snow drifts,
his Mexican guide and all the party following instead of guiding, the
old guide remarking: 'This mule will find the camp if he can live long
enough to reach it.' And he did." As woodsmen well know this knowledge
of directions in dumb brutes is far superior often to the wisest
judgment of men.
The writer well remembers a terrible experience when lost in the great
forests of Arkansas, covered with the back water from the Mississippi
River, which was rapidly rising. Two of us rode for hours. The water
would grow deeper in one direction; we would try another and find it
no better; we were hopelessly lost. My companion was an experienced
woodsman and claimed that he was going in the right direction, so I
followed until in despair I called to him, and showed him the high
water mark upon the trees ten feet above our heads as we sat upon our
horses.
I remarked: "I have followed you; now you follow me. I am going to let
my old horse find the way out." I gave him the rein; he seemed to
understand it. He raised his head, took an observation, turned at
right angles from the way we had insisted was our course, wound around
logs and past marshes, and in two hours brought us safely to camp.
This incident of Dr. Whitman's mule, as well as all such, educates one
in kindness to all dumb animal life.
Reaching camp the guide at once announced that, "I will go no farther;
the way is impossible." "This," says Gen. Lovejoy, "was a terrible
blow to Dr. Whitman. He had already lost more than ten days of
valuable time." But it would be impossible to move without a guide.
Whitman was a man who knew no such word as fail. His order was: "I
must go on."
There was but one thing to do. He said to Gen. Lovejoy: "You stay in
camp and recuperate and feed the stock, and I will return with the
guide to Fort Uncompahgra, and get a new man."
And so Lovejoy began "recuperation," and recuperated his dumb animals
by collecting the brush and inner bark of the willows upon which they
fed. It is astonishing how a mule or horse on the plains can find food
enough to live on, under such conditions.
The writer had a pet mule in one of his journeys over the great
plains, which he would tie to a sage bush near the tent when not a
vestige of grass was anywhere in sight, and yet waking up in the night
at any hour I would hear Ben pawing and chewing. He would paw up the
tender roots of the sage and in the morning look as plump and full as
if he had feasted on good No. 2 corn.
"The doctor," says Lovejoy, "was gone just one week, when he again
reached our camp in the ravine with a new guide."
The storm abated and they passed over the mountain and made good
progress toward Taos.
Their most severe experience was on reaching Grand River. People who
know, mark this as one of the most dangerous and treacherous rivers in
the West. Its rapid, deep, cold current, even in the Summer, is very
much dreaded. Hundreds of people have lost their lives in it. Where
they struck the Grand it was about six hundred feet wide. Two hundred
feet upon each shore was solid ice, while a rushing torrent two
hundred feet wide was between.
The guide studied it, and said: "It is too dangerous to attempt to
cross." "We must cross, and at once," said Whitman. He got down from
his horse, cut a willow pole eight feet long, put it upon his
shoulder, and after remounting, said: "Now you shove me off." Lovejoy
and the guide did as ordered, and the General says: "Both horse and
rider temporarily went out of sight, but soon appeared, swimming. The
horse struck the rocky bottom and waded toward the shore where the
doctor, dismounting, broke the ice with his pole and helped his horse
out. Wood was plentiful and he soon had a roaring fire. As readers
well know, in a wild country where the lead animal has gone ahead, the
rest are eager to follow, regardless of danger, and the General and
his guide, after breaking the ice, had no difficulty in persuading
their horses and pack-mules to make the plunge into the icy flood.
They all landed in safety and spent the day in thoroughly drying out.
"Is the route passable?" asked Napoleon of his engineer. "Barely
possible, sire," replied the engineer. "Then let the column move at
once," said the Great Commander. The reader, in the incident of the
Grand and on the mountains, sees the same hero who refused to believe
the "impossible" of Captain Grant, at Fort Hall, and took that
"historic wagon" to Oregon. It looked like a small event to take a
wagon to Oregon, shattered and battered by the rocks and besetments of
the long three thousand mile journey. The good wife many times mourned
that the doctor should "Wear himself out in getting that wagon
through." "Yesterday," she says, "it was overset in the river and he
was wet from head to foot getting it out; to-day it was upset on the
mountain side, and it was hard work to save it." The dear woman did
not know it was an inspired wagon, the very implement upon which the
fate of Oregon would turn. Small events are sometimes portentous, and
the wagon that Whitman wheeled into Oregon, as we shall soon see, was
of this character.
One of the Providential events was, that the little company had been
turned aside from the attempt to make the journey over the direct
route and sent over this unexplored course, fully one thousand miles
longer. The winter of 1842-43 was very cold, and the snow throughout
the West was heavy. From many of these storms they were protected by
the ranges of high mountains, and what was of great value, had plenty
of firewood; while on the other route for a thousand miles they would
have had to depend mainly upon buffalo chips for fire, which it would
have been impossible to find when the ground was covered with snow. To
the traveler good fires in camp are a great comfort.
Even as it was, they suffered from the cold, all of them being
severely frosted. Dr. Whitman, when he reached Washington, was
suffering from frozen feet, hands and ears, although he had taken
every precaution to protect himself and his companions.
The many vexatious delays had caused not only the loss of valuable
time, but they had run out of provisions. A dog had accompanied the
party and they ate him; a mule came next, and that kept them until
they came to Santa Fe, where there was plenty. Santa Fe is one of the
oldest cities upon the continent occupied by English-speaking people.
The doctor, anxious for news, could find little there, and only
stopped long enough to recruit his supplies. He was in no mood to
enjoy the antiquities of this favorite resort of all the heroes of the
plains.
Pushing on over the treeless prairies, they made good headway toward
Bent's Fort on the headwaters of the Arkansas. The grass for the
horses was plentiful. That is one of the prime requisites of the
campaigner upon the plains. Had there been time for hunting, all along
their route they could have captured any amount of wild game, but as
it was, they attempted nothing except it came directly in the way.
They even went hungry rather than lose an hour in the chase.
There was one little incident which may seem very small, but the old
campaigner will see that it was big with importance. They lost their
axe. It was after a long tedious day crossing a bleak prairie, when
they reached one of the tributaries of the Arkansas River. On the
opposite side was wood in great plenty. On their side there was none.
The river was frozen over with smooth, clear ice, scarcely thick
enough to bear a man. They must have wood.
The doctor seized the axe, lay down on the ice and snaked himself
across on the thin crust. He cut loads of wood and pushed it before
him or skated it across and returned in safety; but unfortunately
split the axe helve. This they soon remedied by binding it with a
fresh deer skin thong. But as it lay in the edge of the tent that
night, a thieving wolf wanting the deer skin, took the axe and all,
and they could find no trace of it. The great good fortune was, that
such a catastrophe did not occur a thousand miles back. It is barely
possible it might have defeated the enterprise.
"When within about four days' journey of Bent's Fort," says Gen.
Lovejoy, "we met George Bent, a brother of Gen. Bent, with a caravan
on his way to Taos. He told us that a party of mountain men would
leave Bent's Fort in a few days for St. Louis, but said we could not
reach the fort with our pack animals in time to join the party.
"The doctor being very anxious to join it, and push on to Washington,
concluded to leave myself and guide with the packs, and he himself
taking the best animal, with some bedding and a small allowance of
provisions, started on alone, hoping by rapid traveling to reach the
fort before the party left. But to do so he would have to travel upon
the Sabbath, something we had not done before.
"Myself and guide traveled slowly and reached the fort in four days,
but imagine my astonishment when told the doctor had not arrived nor
been heard from. As this portion of the journey was infested by gangs
of gray wolves, that had been half starved during the snows and cold
weather, our anxiety for the doctor's safety was greatly increased.
Every night our camp would be surrounded by them coming even to the
door of the tent, and everything eatable had to be carefully stored
and our animals picketed where we could defend them with our rifles;
when a wolf fell he would instantly be devoured by his fellows.
"If not killed we knew the doctor was lost. Being furnished by the
gentlemen of the fort with a good guide I started to search for him
and traveled up the river about one hundred miles. I learned by the
Indians that a man who was lost had been there and he was trying to
find Bent's Fort. They said they had directed him down the river and
how to find the fort. I knew from their description that it was the
doctor, and I returned as rapidly as possible; but he had not arrived.
"Late in the afternoon he came in much fatigued and almost desponding.
He said that God had hindered him for traveling on the Holy Sabbath."
Says General Lovejoy: "This was the only time I ever knew him to
travel on Sunday."
The party which the doctor was to accompany to St. Louis had already
started, but was kindly stopped by a runner, and it was in camp
waiting his coming. Tired as he was, he tarried but a single night at
Fort Bent, and again with a guide hurried on to overtake the caravan.
This was a dangerous part of the journey. Savage beasts and savage men
were both to be feared.
In pioneer days the borders of civilization were always infested by
the worst class of people, both whites and Indians. This made the
doctor more anxious for an escort. Gen. Lovejoy remained at the fort
until he entirely recovered from his fatigue, and went on with the
next caravan passing eastward to St. Louis. In a letter to Dr.
Atkinson, published in full in the appendix to this volume, Gen.
Lovejoy recites many interesting incidents of this journey. Before
reaching St. Louis, Gen. Lovejoy immediately began to advertise the
emigration for the following May.
Dr. Barrows, in his fine volume, "Oregon--the Struggle for
Possession," says: "Upon the arrival of Dr. Whitman in St. Louis it
was my good fortune that he should be quartered as a guest under the
same roof and at the same table with me. Those interested in the news
from the plains, the trappers and traders in furs and Indian goods,
gathered about him and beset him with a multitude of questions.
Answering them courteously he in turn asked about Congress. Whether
the Ashburton Treaty had been concluded? and whether it covered the
Northwest Territory? The treaty he learned had been signed August 9th,
long before he left Oregon, and had been confirmed by the Senate and
signed by the President on November 10th, while he was floundering in
the snow upon the mountains."
But the Oregon question was still open, and only the few acres up in
Maine had been fixed. The question he was eager to have answered was:
"Is the Oregon question still pending, and can I get there before
Congress adjourns?" The river was frozen, and he had to depend upon
the stage, and even from St. Louis a journey to Washington in
midwinter at that time, was no small matter. But to a man like Whitman
with muscles trained, and a brain which never seemed to tire, it was
counted as nothing.
Dr. Barrows says: "Marcus Whitman once seen, and in our family circle,
telling of his business, he had but one, was a man not to be forgotten
by the writer. He was of medium height, more compact than spare, a
stout shoulder, and large head not much above it, covered with stiff
iron gray hair, while his face carried all the moustache and whiskers
that four months had been able to put on it. He carried himself
awkwardly, though perhaps courteously enough for trappers, Indians,
mules and grizzlies, his principal company for six years. He seemed
built as a man for whom more stock had been furnished than worked in
symmetrically and gracefully.
"There was nothing quick in his motion or speech, and no trace of a
fanatic; but under control of a thorough knowledge of his business,
and with deep, ardent convictions about it, he was a profound
enthusiast. A willful resolution and a tenacious earnestness would
impress you as marking the man.
"He wore coarse fur garments with buckskin breeches. He had a buffalo
overcoat, with a head hood for emergencies, with fur leggins and boot
moccasins. His legs and feet fitted his Mexican stirrups. If my memory
is not at fault his entire dress when on the street did not show one
inch of woven fabric."
One can easily see that a dress of such kind and upon such a man would
attract attention at the National Capital. But the history of the
event nowhere hints that the old pioneer suffered in any quarter from
his lack of fashionable garments. It was before the day of
interviewing newspapers, but the men in authority in Washington soon
learned of his coming and showed him every courtesy and kindness. He
would have been lionized had he encouraged it. But he had not
imperiled life for any such purpose. He was, after a four thousand
miles ride, there upon a great mission and for business, and time was
precious.
Almost in despair he had prayed that he might be enabled to reach the
Capital of the Nation and make his plea for his land, Oregon, before
it was too late. And here he was. Would he be given an audience? Would
he be believed? Would he succeed? These were the questions uppermost
in his mind.
CHAPTER VII.
WHITMAN IN THE PRESENCE OF PRESIDENT TYLER AND SECRETARY OF STATE
DANIEL WEBSTER, AND THE RETURN TO OREGON.
It has been an American boast that the President of the United States
is within the reach of the humblest subject. This was truer years ago
than now, and possibly with some reason for it. Unfortunately the
historian has no recorded account of the interview between the
President, his Secretary of State and Whitman. Whitman worked for
posterity, but did not write for it.
For his long journey over the plains in 1836 and the many entertaining
and exciting events we are wholly dependent upon Mrs. Whitman, and for
the narrative of the perilous ride to save Oregon, we are dependent
upon the brief notes made by Gen. Lovejoy, and from personal talks
with many friends. Whitman always seemed too busy to use pencil or
pen, and yet when he did write, as a few recorded specimens show, he
was remarkably clear, precise and forcible. But while we have no
written statement of the celebrated interview, Dr. Whitman, in many
private conversations with friends in Oregon said enough to give a
fair and clear account of it.
It will require no stretch of imagination in any intelligent reader to
suppose, that a man who had undergone the hardships and perils he had,
would be at a loss how to present his case in the most forcible and
best possible method. He was an educated man, a profound thinker; and
he knew every phase of the questions he had to present, and no man of
discernment could look into his honest eyes and upon his manly
bearing, without acknowledging that they were in the presence of the
very best specimen of American Christian manhood.
Both President Tyler and Secretary of State Daniel Webster, speedily
granted him an audience. Some time in the future some great artist
will paint a picture of this historic event. The old pioneer, in his
leather breeches and worn and torn fur garments, and with frozen
limbs, just in from a four thousand mile ride, is a picture by
himself, but standing in the presence of the President and his great
Secretary, to plead for Oregon and the old flag, the subject for a
painter is second to none in American history.
Some writers have said that Whitman "had a chilling reception from
Secretary Webster." Of this there is not a shadow of proof. It has
also been asserted that Whitman assailed the Ashburton-Webster Treaty.
This much only is true, that Whitman regarded the issues settled as
comparatively insignificant to those involved in the possession and
boundaries of Oregon; but he was profoundly grateful that in the
treaty, Oregon had in no way been sacrificed, as he had feared.
Gen. Lovejoy says: "Dr. Whitman often related to me during our
homeward journey the incidents of his reception by the President and
his Secretary. He had several interviews with both of them, as well as
with many of the leading senators and members of Congress." The burden
of his speech in all these, says Gen. Lovejoy, was to "immediately
terminate the treaty of 1818 and 1828, and extend the laws of the
United States over Oregon." It takes a most credulous reader to doubt
that.
For months prior to Whitman's visit to Washington in diplomatic
circles it was well understood that there were negotiations on foot to
trade American interests in Oregon for the fisheries of Newfoundland.
Dr. Whitman soon heard of it, and heard it given as a reason why the
boundary line between Oregon and the British possessions had been
left open and only the little dispute in Maine adjusted.
According to all reports we can gather from the Doctor's
conversations, there was only one time in the several conferences in
which he and Secretary Webster got warm and crossed swords. Secretary
Webster had received castigation from political leaders, and sharp
criticism from his own party over the Ashburton Treaty, and was ready
to resent every remote allusion to it, as a give-away of American
interests. In defense of Secretary Webster it has been asserted that
"he had no intention of making such an exchange." But his well-known
previous views, held in common by the leading statesmen of the day,
already referred to, and openly expressed in Congress and upon the
rostrum, that "Oregon was a barren worthless country, fit only for
wild beasts and wild men, gave the air of truth to the reported
negotiation." This he emphasized by the interruption of Whitman in one
of his glowing descriptions of Oregon, by saying in effect that
"Oregon was shut off by impassable mountains and a great desert, which
made a wagon road impossible."
Then, says Whitman, I replied: "Mr. Secretary, that is the grand
mistake that has been made by listening to the enemies of American
interests in Oregon. Six years ago I was told there was no wagon road
to Oregon, and it was impossible to take a wagon there, and yet in
despite of pleadings and almost threats, I took a wagon over the road,
and have it now." This was the historic wagon. It knocked all the
argument out of the great Secretary. Facts are stubborn things to
meet, and when told by a man like Whitman it is not difficult to
imagine their effect.
He assured the Secretary that the possibilities of the territory
beyond the Rockies were boundless, that under the poorest cultivation
everything would grow; that he had tested a variety of crops and the
soil made a wonderful yield. That not only is the soil fertile, the
climate healthful and delightful, but there is every evidence of the
hills and mountains being rich in ores; while the great forests are
second to none in the world. But it was the battered old wagon that
was the clinching argument that could not be overcome. No four-wheeled
vehicle ever before in history performed such notable service. The
real fact was, the Doctor took it into Oregon on two wheels, but he
carefully hauled the other two wheels inside as precious treasures. He
seems to have had a prophetic view of the value of the first incoming
wagon from the United States. The events show his wisdom.
Proceeding with his argument, Dr. Whitman said: "Mr. Secretary, you
had better give all New England for the cod and mackerel fisheries
of New Foundland than to barter away Oregon."
[Illustration: WHITMAN PLEADING FOR OREGON BEFORE PRESIDENT TYLER
AND SECRETARY WEBSTER.]
From the outset, and at every audience granted, President Tyler
treated Dr. Whitman with the greatest deference. He was a new
character in the experience of both these polished and experienced
politicians. Never before had they listened to a man who so eloquently
plead for the cause of his country, with no selfish aim in sight. He
asked for no money, or bonds, or land, or office, or anything, except
that which would add to the nation's wealth, the glory and honor of
the flag, and the benefit of the hardy pioneer of that far-off land,
that the nation had for more than a third of the century wholly
neglected. It was a powerful appeal to the manly heart of President
Tyler, and as the facts show, was not lost on Secretary Webster.
The Rev. H. H. Spalding, Whitman's early associate in the Oregon work,
had many conferences with Whitman after his return to Oregon. Spalding
says, speaking of the conference: "Webster's interest lay too near to
Cape Cod to see things as Whitman did, while he conceded sincerity to
the missionary, but he was loth to admit that a six years' residence
there gave Whitman a wider knowledge of the country than that
possessed by Governor Simpson, who had explored every part of it and
represented it as a sandy desert, cut off from the United States by
impassable mountains, and fit only for wild animals and savage men."
With the light we now have upon the subject the greater wonder is that
a brainy man like Webster could be so over-reached by an interested
party such as Governor Simpson was; well knowing as he did, that he
was the chief of the greatest monopoly existing upon either
continent--the Hudson Bay Company. All Dr. Whitman demanded was that
if it were true, as asserted by Mr. Webster himself, in his
instructions to Edward Everett in 1840, then Minister to England, that
"The ownership of Oregon is very likely to follow the greater
settlement and larger amount of population;" then "All I ask is that
you won't barter away Oregon, or allow English interference until I
can lead a band of stalwart American settlers across the plains: for
this I will try to do."
President Tyler promptly and positively stated: "Dr. Whitman, your
long ride and frozen limbs speak for your courage and patriotism; your
missionary credentials are good vouchers for your character." And he
promptly granted his request. Such promise was all that Whitman
required. He firmly believed, as all the pioneers of Oregon at that
time believed, that the treaty of 1818, while not saying in direct
terms that the nationality settling the country should hold it, yet
that that was the real meaning. Both countries claimed the territory,
and England with the smallest rightful claim had, through the Hudson
Bay Company, been the supreme autocratic ruler for a full third of a
century.
More than half a dozen fur companies, attracted to Oregon by the
wealth flowing into the coffers of the English company, had attempted,
as we have before shown, to open up business on what they claimed was
American soil; but, in every instance, they were starved out or bought
out by the English company. The Indians obeyed its orders, and even
the American missionaries settled in just the localities they were
ordered to by the English monopoly. In another connection we have more
fully explained this treaty of 1818, but, suffice it to say, these
conditions led Whitman to believe that the only hope of saving Oregon
was in American immigration. It was for this that he plead with
President Tyler and Secretary Webster and the members of Congress he
met.
From the President he went to the Hon. James M. Porter, Secretary of
War, and by him was received with the greatest kindness, and he
eagerly heard the whole story. He promised Dr. Whitman all the aid in
his power in his scheme of immigration. He promised that Captain
Fremont, with a company of troops, should act as escort to the caravan
which Whitman was positive he could organize upon the frontier. The
Secretary of War also inquired in what way he and the Government
could aid the pioneers in the new country, and asked Dr. Whitman, at
his leisure, to write out his views, and forward them to him. Dr.
Whitman did this, and the State Historical Society of Oregon did
excellent service, recently, in publishing Whitman's proposed "Oregon
Organization," found among the official papers of the War Department,
a copy of which will be found in the appendix of this volume.
In a Senate document, December 31st, viz., the 41st Cong., February
9th, 1871, we read: "There is no doubt but that the arrival of Dr.
Whitman, in 1843, was opportune. The President was satisfied that the
territory was worth the effort to win it. The delay incident to a
transfer of negotiations to London was fortunate, for there is reason
to believe that if former negotiations had been renewed in Washington,
and that, for the sake of a settlement of the protracted controversy
and the only remaining unadjudicated cause of difference between the
two Governments, the offer had been renewed of the 49th parallel to
the Columbia and thence down the river to the Pacific Ocean, it would
have been accepted. The visit of Whitman committed the President
against any such action." This is a clear statement, summarizing the
great historic event, and forever silencing effectually the slanderous
tongues that have, in modern times, attempted to deprive the old Hero
of his great and deserving tribute.
We will do Secretary Webster the justice to say here, that in his
later years, he justly acknowledged the obligations of the nation to
Dr. Whitman. In the New York Independent, for January, 1870, it is
stated: "A personal friend of Mr. Webster, a legal gentleman, and with
whom he conversed on the subject several times, remarked to the writer
of this article: 'It is safe to assert that our country owes it to Dr.
Whitman and his associate missionaries that all the territory west of
the Rocky Mountains and south as far as the Columbia River, is not now
owned by England and held by the Hudson Bay Company.'"
Having transacted his business and succeeded even beyond his
expectations, Whitman hurried to Boston to report to the headquarters
of the American Board. His enemies have often made sport over their
version of his "cool reception by the American Board." If there was a
severe reprimand, as reported, both the officers of the Board and Dr.
Whitman failed to make record of it. But enough of the facts leaked
out in the years after to show that it was not altogether a harmonious
meeting. It is not to be wondered at.
The American Board was a religious organization working under fixed
rules, and expected every member in every field to obey those rules.
But here was a man, whose salary had been paid by the Board for
special work, away from his field of labor without the consent from
headquarters. It is not at all unlikely that he was severely
reprimanded. The officers of the American Board had no reason to know,
as Christian people can see now, that Whitman was an inspired man, and
a man about his Father's business. It is even reported, but not
vouched for, that they ordered him to promptly repair to his post of
duty, and dismissed him with his pockets so empty, that, when starting
upon his ever-memorable return journey across the plains, "He had but
money enough to buy only a single ham for his supplies."
One of his old associates who had frequent conferences with
Whitman--Dr. Gray--says: "Instead of being treated by the American
Board as his labors justly deserved, he met the cold, calculating
rebuke for unreasonable expenses, and for dangers incurred without
orders or instructions or permission from headquarters. Thus, for
economical, prudential reasons, the Board received him coldly, and
rebuked him for his presence before them, causing a chill in his warm
and generous heart, and a sense of unmerited rebuke from those who
should have been most willing to listen to all his statements, and
been most cordial and ready to sustain him in his herculean labors."
We leave intelligent readers to answer for themselves, whether this
attitude of this great and influential and excellent organization has
not been, in a measure, responsible for the neglect of this Hero, who
served it and the Christian world with all faithfulness and honesty,
until he and his noble wife dropped into their martyr graves? If they
say yea, we raise the question whether the time has not been reached
to make amends?
Dr. Barrows says, in his "Oregon and the Struggle for Possession," "It
should be said in apology for both parties at this late day that, at
that time, the Oregon Mission and its managing board were widely
asunder geographically, and as widely separated in knowledge of the
condition of affairs." Dr. Whitman seems to have assumed that his
seven years' residence on the Northwest Coast would gain him a
trustful hearing. But his knowledge gave him the disadvantage of a
position and plans too advanced--not an uncommon mishap to eminent
leaders. As said by Coleridge of Milton, "He strode so far before his
contemporaries as to dwarf himself by the distance."
He adds that:
"Years after only, it was discovered by one of the officers of the
American Board," that "It was not simply an American question then
settled, but at the same time a Protestant question." He also refers
to a recent work, "The Ely Volume," in which is discussed the
question, "Instances where the direct influence of missionaries has
controlled and hopefully shaped the destinies of communities and
states," and illustrates by saying, "Perhaps no event in the history
of missions will better illustrate this than the way in which Oregon
and our whole Northwest Pacific Coast was saved to the United States."
This covered directly the Whitman idea. It was, as he before stated, a
union of banners--the banner of the cross, and the banner of the
country he loved. It took the spirit and love of both to sustain a man
and to enable him to undergo the hardships and dangers and
discouragements that he met, from the beginning to the end.
From Boston, with an aching heart, and yet doubtless serene over an
accomplished duty, which he had faith to believe time would reveal in
its real light, Dr. Whitman passed on to make a flying visit to his
own and his wife's relations. From letters of Mrs. Whitman, it is easy
to see that her prophecy was true; "He would be too full of his great
work on hand, to tell much of the home in Oregon." His visit was
hurried over and seemed more the necessity of a great duty than a
pleasure.
But the Doctor's mind was westward. He had learned from Gen. Lovejoy
that already there was gathering upon the frontier a goodly number of
immigrants and the prospect was excellent for a large caravan. In the
absence of Dr. Whitman, Gen. Lovejoy had neglected no opportunity to
publish far and wide that Dr. Whitman and himself would, early in the
Spring, pilot across the plains to Oregon, a body of immigrants. A
rendezvous was appointed, not far from where Kansas City now stands,
at the little town of Weston. But they were in various camps at Fort
Leavenworth and other points, waiting both for their guide and for the
growing spring grass--a necessity for the emigrant.
Certain modern historians have undertaken to rob Whitman of his great
services in 1843, by gathering affidavits of people who emigrated to
Oregon in that year, declaring, "We never saw Marcus Whitman," and "We
were not persuaded to immigrate to Oregon by him," etc. Doubtless
there were such upon the wide plains, scattered as they may have been,
hundreds of miles apart. But it is just as certain that the large
immigration to Oregon that year was incited by the movements of
Whitman and Lovejoy, as any fact could be. There is no other method of
explaining it. That he directly influenced every immigrant of that
year, no one has claimed.
True, old Elijah White had paved the way, the year before, by leading
in the first large band of agriculturist settlers; but men of
families, undertaking a two thousand mile journey, with their families
and their stock, were certainly desirous of an experienced guide. They
may, as some of them say, never have met Whitman. He was not one of
the free and easy kind that made himself popular with the masses.
Then, besides all that, fifty years ago plains life was an odd life. I
have journeyed with men for weeks, and even after months of
acquaintance have not known their names, except that of Buckeye,
Sucker, Missouri, Cass County Bill, Bob, etc. Little bands would
travel by themselves for days and weeks and then, under the sense of
danger that would be passed along the line, and for defense against
depredations of some dangerous tribe of Indians, they would gather
into larger bands soon again to fall apart. Some of these would often
follow many days behind the head of the column, but always have the
benefit of its guidance.
That year grass was late, and they did not get fully under way until
the first week in June. Whitman remained behind and did not overtake
the advance of the column until it reached the Platte River. He knew
the way, he had three times been over it. He was ahead arranging for
camping places for those in his immediate company, or in the rear
looking after the sick and discouraged. If some failed to know him by
name, there were many who did, and all shared in all the knowledge of
the country and road which he, better than any other, knew.
In answer to historical critics of modern times we quote Dr. H. H.
Spalding, who says, in speaking of the immigration of 1843:
"And through that whole summer Dr. Whitman was everywhere present; the
ministering angel to the sick, helping the weary, encouraging the
wavering, cheering the tired mothers, setting broken bones and mending
wagons. He was in the front, in the center and in the rear. He was in
the river hunting out fords through the quicksand; in the desert
places looking for water and grass; among the mountains hunting for
passes, never before trodden by white men; at noontide and at midnight
he was on the alert as if the whole line was his own family, and as if
all the flocks and herds were his own. For all this he neither asked
nor expected a dollar from any source, and especially did he feel
repaid at the end, when, standing at his mission home, hundreds of his
fellow pilgrims took him by the hand and thanked him with tears in
their eyes for all that he had done."
The head of the column arrived at Fort Hall and there waited for the
stragglers to come up. Dr. Whitman knew that here he would meet
Captain Johnny Grant, and the old story, "You can't take a wagon into
Oregon," would be dinned into the ears of the head of every family. He
had heard it over and over again six years before. Fort Hall was
thirteen hundred and twenty-three miles from the Missouri River at
Kansas City. Here the Doctor expected trouble and found it. Johnny
Grant was at Fort Hall to make trouble and discourage immigration. He
was working under the pay of the Fur Company and earned his money. The
Fur Company did not desire farmers in settlements in Oregon.
Captain Grant at once began to tell them the terrors of the mountain
journey and the impossibility of hauling their wagons further. Then he
showed them, to prove it, a corral full of fine wagons, with
agricultural tools, and thousands of things greatly needed in Oregon,
that immigrants had been forced to leave when they took to their
pack-saddles. The men were ready, as had been others before, to give
up and sacrifice the comforts of their families and rob themselves at
the command of the oily advocate.
But here comes Whitman. Johnny Grant knows he now has his master. Dr.
Whitman says: "Men, I have guided you thus far in safety. Believe
nothing you hear about not being able to get your wagons through;
every one of you stick to your wagons and your goods. They will be
invaluable to you when you reach the end of your journey. I took a
wagon through to Oregon six years ago." (Again we see the historic
wagon.) The men believed him. They refused to obey Captain Grant's
touching appeal and almost a command to leave their wagons behind.
Never did an order, than the one Whitman made, add more to the comfort
and actual value of a band of travelers.
One of a former company tells of a packing experience, after
submitting to Captain Grant's orders. He says: "There were lively
times around old Fort Hall when the patient old oxen and mules were
taken from the wagons to be left behind and the loads of bedding, pots
and pans were tied on to their backs. They were unused to such
methods. There would first be a shying, then a fright and a stampede,
and bellowing oxen and braying mules and the air would be full of
flying kettles and camp fixtures, while women and children crying and
the men swearing, made up a picture to live in the memory."
No one better than Whitman knew the toil and danger attending the last
six hundred miles of the journey to Oregon. Col. George B. Curry, in
an address before the Pioneer Society of Oregon in 1887, gives a
graphic sketch, wonderfully realistic, of the immigrant train in 1853.
He says: "From the South Pass the nature of our journeying changed,
and assumed the character of a retreat, a disastrous, ruinous retreat.
Oxen and horses began to perish in large numbers; often falling dead
in their yokes in the road. The heat-dried wagon, striking on the
rocks or banks would fall to pieces. As the beasts of burden grew
weaker, and the wagon more rickety, teams began to be doubled and
wagons abandoned. The approaching storms of autumn, which, on the high
mountains at the last end of our journey, meant impassable snow,
admitted of no delay. Whatever of strength remained of the jaded
cattle must be forced out. Every thing of weight not absolutely
necessary must be abandoned.
"There was no time to pause and recruit the hungry stock, nor dare we
allow them much freedom to hunt the withered herbage, for a marauding
enemy hung upon the rear, hovering on either flank, and skulked in
ambuscade in the front, the horizon was a panorama of mountains, the
grandest and most desolate on the continent. The road was strewn with
dead cattle, abandoned wagons, discarded cooking utensils, ox-yokes,
harness, chairs, mess chests, log chains, books, heirlooms, and family
keepsakes. The inexorable surroundings of the struggling mass
permitted no hesitation or sentiment.
"The failing strength of the team was a demand that must be complied
with. Clothing not absolutely required at present was left on the bare
rocks of the rugged canyons. Wagons were coupled shorter that a few
extra pounds might be saved from the wagon beds. One set of wheels was
left and a cart constructed. Men, women and children walked beside
the enfeebled teams, ready to give an assisting push up a steep pitch.
"The fierce summer's heat beat upon this slow west rolling column. The
herbage was dry and crisp, the rivulets had become but lines in the
burning sand; the sun glared from a sky of brass; the stony mountain
sides glared with the garnered heat of a cloudless Summer. The dusky
brambles of the scraggy sage brush seemed to catch the fiery rays of
heat and shiver them into choking dust, that rose like a tormenting
plague and hung like a demon of destruction over the panting oxen and
thirsty people.
"Thus day after day, for weeks and months, the slow but urgent retreat
continued, each day demanding fresh sacrifices. An ox or a horse would
fall, brave men would lift the useless yoke from his limp and lifeless
neck in silence. If there was another to take his place he was brought
from the loose band, yoked up and the journey resumed. When the stock
of oxen became exhausted, cows were brought under the yoke, other
wagons left, and the lessening store once more inspected; if possible,
another pound would be dispensed with.
"Deeper and deeper into the flinty mountains the forlorn mass drives
its weary way. Each morning the weakened team has to commence a
struggle with yet greater difficulties. It is plain the journey will
not be completed within the anticipated time, and the dread of hunger
joins the ranks of the tormentors. The stench of carrion fills the air
in many places; a watering place is reached to find the putrid carcass
of a dead animal in the spring. The Indians hover in the rear,
impatiently waiting for the train to move on that the abandoned
trinkets may be gathered up. Whether these are gathering strength for
a general attack we cannot tell. There is but one thing to do--press
on. The retreat cannot hasten into rout, for the distance to safety is
too great. Slower and slower is daily progress.
"I do not pretend to be versed in all the horrors that have made men
groan on earth, but I have followed the "Flight of Tartar Tribes,"
under the focal light of DeQuincy's genius, the retreat of the ten
thousand under Xenophon, but as far as I am able to judge, in heroism,
endurance, patience, and suffering, the annual retreat of immigrants
from the Black Hills to the Dalles surpasses either. The theater of
their sufferings and success, for scenic grandeur, has no superior.
"The patient endurance of these men and women for sublime pathos may
challenge the world. Men were impoverished and women reduced to
beggary and absolute want, and no weakling's murmur of complaint
escaped their lips. It is true, when women saw their patient oxen or
faithful horses fall by the roadside and die, they wept piteously,
and men stood in all the 'silent manliness of grief' in the camp of
their desolation, for the immigrants were men and women with hearts to
feel and tears to flow."
[Illustration: REV. H. H. SPALDING.]
This, it will be observed, was a train upon the road ten years later
than Dr. Whitman's memorable journey. He was a wise guide, and his
train met with fewer disasters. The Hon. S. A. Clarke in his address
tells how Whitman moved his train across Snake River.
He says: "When the immigrants reached the Snake, Dr. Whitman proceeded
to fasten wagons together in one long string, the strongest in the
lead. As soon as the teams were in position, Dr. Whitman tied a rope
around his waist and starting his horse into the current swam over. He
called to others to follow him, and when they had force enough to pull
at the rope the lead team was started in and all were drawn over in
safety. As soon as the leading teams were able to get foothold on the
bottom all was safe; as they, aided by the strong arms of the men
pulling at the rope, pulled the weaker ones along."
The Snake River at the ford is divided into three rivers by islands,
the last stream on the Oregon side is a deep and rapid current, and
fully half a mile wide. To get so many wagons, pulled by jaded teams,
and all the thousand men, women and children, and the loose stock
across in safety, showed wise generalship.
We here copy "A Day with the Cow Column in 1843," by the Hon. Jesse
Applegate, a late honored citizen of Oregon, who was one of Dr.
Whitman's company in 1843. It is a clear, graphic description of a
sample day's journey on the famous trip, and was an address published
in the transactions of the Pioneer Oregon Association in 1876.
The migration of a large body of men, women and children across the
Continent to Oregon was, in the year 1843, strictly an experiment, not
only in respect to the numbers, but to the outfit of the migrating
party.
Before that date two or three missionaries had performed the journey
on horseback, driving a few cows with them. Three or four wagons drawn
by oxen had reached Fort Hall on Snake River, but it was the honest
opinion of most of those who had traveled the route down Snake River
that no large number of cattle could be subsisted on its scanty
pasturage, or wagons taken over a route so rugged and mountainous.
The emigrants were also assured that the Sioux would be much opposed
to the passage of so large a body through their country, and would
probably resist it on account of the emigrants destroying and
frightening away the buffaloes, which were then diminishing in
numbers. The migrating body numbered over one thousand souls, with
about one hundred and twenty wagons, drawn by ox teams, averaging
about six yokes to the team, and several thousand loose horses and
cattle.
The emigrants first organized and attempted to travel in one body, but
it was soon found that no progress could be made with a body so
cumbrous, and as yet, so averse to all discipline. And at the crossing
of the "Big Blue," it divided into two columns, which traveled in
supporting distance of each other as far as Independence Rock, on the
Sweetwater.
From this point, all danger from Indians being over, the emigrants
separated into small parties better suited to the narrow mountain
paths and small pastures in their front.
Before the division on the Blue River there was some just cause for
discontent in respect to loose cattle. Some of the emigrants had only
their teams, while others had large herds in addition, which must
share the pastures and be driven by the whole body.
This discontent had its effect in the division on the Blue, those not
encumbered with or having but few loose cattle attached themselves to
the light column, those having more than four or five cows had of
necessity to join the heavy or cow column. Hence, the cow column,
being much larger than the other and encumbered with its large herds,
had to use greater exertion and observe a more rigid discipline to
keep pace with the more agile consort.
It is with the cow or more clumsy column that I propose to journey
with the reader for a single day.
It is four o'clock a. m., the sentinels on duty have discharged their
rifles, the signal that the hours of sleep are over; and every wagon
or tent is pouring forth its night tenants, and slow kindling smokes
begin to rise and float away on the morning air. Sixty men start from
the corral, spreading as they make through the vast herd of cattle and
horses that form a semi-circle around the encampment, the most
distant, perhaps, two miles away.
The herders pass to the extreme verge and carefully examine for trails
beyond, to see that none of the animals have been stolen or strayed
during the night. This morning no trails lead beyond the outside
animals in sight, and by five o'clock the herders begin to contract
the great moving circle, and the well-trained animals move slowly
toward camp, clipping here and there a thistle or tempting bunch of
grass on the way.
In about an hour 5,000 animals are close up to the encampment, and the
teamsters are busy selecting their teams, and driving them inside the
"corral" to be yoked. The corral is a circle one hundred yards deep,
formed with wagons connected strongly with each other, the wagon in
the rear being connected with the wagon in front by its tongue and ox
chains. It is a strong barrier that the most vicious ox cannot break,
and in case of an attack by the Sioux, would be no contemptible
entrenchment.
From six to seven o'clock is a busy time; breakfast to be eaten, the
tents struck, the wagons loaded, and the teams yoked and brought up in
readiness to be attached to their respective wagons. All know, when at
seven o'clock the signal to march sounds, that those not ready to take
their proper places in the line of march must fall into the dusty rear
for the day.
There are sixty wagons. They have been divided into sixteen divisions,
or platoons of four wagons each, and each platoon is entitled to lead
in its turn. The leading platoon of to-day will be the rear one
to-morrow, and will bring up the rear, unless some teamster, through
indolence or negligence, has lost his place in the line, and is
condemned to that uncomfortable post. It is within ten minutes of
seven; the corral, but now a strong barricade, is everywhere broken,
the teams being attached to the wagons. The women and children have
taken their places in them. The pilot (a borderer who has passed his
life on the verge of civilization, and has been chosen to the post of
leader from his knowledge of the savage and his experience in travel
through roadless wastes) stands ready, in the midst of his pioneers
and aides, to mount and lead the way.
Ten or fifteen young men, not to lead to-day, form another cluster.
They are ready to start on a buffalo hunt, are well mounted and well
armed, as they need to be, for the unfriendly Sioux have driven the
buffalo out of the Platte, and the hunters must ride fifteen or twenty
miles to reach them. The cow-drivers are hastening, as they get ready,
to the rear of their charge, to collect and prepare them for the day's
march.
It is on the stroke of seven; the rushing to and fro, the cracking of
whips, the loud command to oxen, and what seemed to be the
inextricable confusion of the last ten minutes has ceased.
Fortunately, every one has been found, and every teamster is at his
post. The clear notes of a trumpet sound in the front; the pilot and
his guards mount their horses; the leading division of wagons move out
of the encampment and take up the line of march; the rest fall into
their places with the precision of clock-work, until the post, so
lately full of life, sinks back into that solitude that seems to reign
over the broad plain and rushing river, as the caravan draws its lazy
length toward the distant El Dorado.
It is with the hunters we will briskly canter toward the bold but
smooth and grassy bluffs that bound the broad valley, for we are not
yet in sight of the grander, but less beautiful, scenery (of the
Chimney Rock, Court House, and other bluffs so nearly resembling giant
castles and palaces) made by the passage of the Platte through the
Highlands near Laramie. We have been traveling briskly for more than
an hour. We have reached the top of the bluff, and now have turned to
view the wonderful panorama spread before us.
To those who have not been on the Platte, my powers of description are
wholly inadequate to convey an idea of the vast extent and grandeur of
the picture, and the rare beauty and distinctness of its detail. No
haze or fog obscures objects in the pure and transparent atmosphere of
this lofty region. To those accustomed to only the murky air of the
sea-board, no correct judgment of distance can be formed by sight, and
objects which they think they can reach in a two hours' walk, may be a
day's travel away; and though the evening air is a better conductor of
sound, on the high plain during the day the report of the loudest
rifle sounds little louder than the bursting of a cap; and while the
report can be heard but a few hundred yards, the smoke of the
discharge may be seen for miles.
So extended is the view from the bluff on which the hunters stand,
that the broad river, glowing under the morning sun like a sheet of
silver, and the broader emerald valley that borders it, stretch away
in the distance until they narrow at almost two points in the horizon,
and when first seen, the vast pile of the Wind River mountains, though
hundreds of miles away, looks clear and distinct as a white cottage on
the plain.
We are full six miles away from the line of march; though everything
is dwarfed by distance, it is seen distinctly. The caravan has been
about two hours in motion, and is now extended as widely as a prudent
regard for safety will permit. First, near the bank of the shining
river, is a company of horsemen; they seem to have found an
obstruction, for the main body has halted, while three or four ride
rapidly along the bank of a creek or slough. They are hunting a
favorable crossing for the wagons; while we look they have succeeded;
it has apparently required no work to make it possible, while all but
one of the party have passed on, and he has raised a flag, no doubt a
signal to the wagons to steer their course to where he stands.
The leading teamster sees him, though he is yet two miles off, and
steers his course directly towards him, all the wagons following in
his track. They (the wagons) form a line three-quarters of a mile in
length; some of the teamsters ride upon the front of their wagons,
some march beside their teams; scattered along the line companies of
women and children are taking exercise on foot; they gather bouquets
of rare and beautiful flowers that line the way; near them stalks a
stately greyhound or an Irish wolf dog, apparently proud of keeping
watch and ward over his master's wife and children.
Next comes a band of horses; two or three men or boys follow them, the
docile and sagacious animals scarcely needing this attention, for they
have learned to follow in the rear of the wagons, and know that at
noon they will be allowed to graze and rest. Their knowledge of time
seems as accurate as of the place they are to occupy in the line, and
even a full-blown thistle will scarce tempt them to straggle or halt
until the dinner hour is arrived.
Not so with the large herd of horned beasts that bring up the rear;
lazy, selfish and unsocial, it has been a task to get them in motion,
the strong always ready to domineer over the weak, halt in the front
and forbid the weaker to pass them. They seem to move only in fear of
the driver's whip; though in the morning full to repletion, they have
not been driven an hour, before their hunger and thirst seem to
indicate a fast of days' duration. Through all the day long their
greed is never sated nor their thirst quenched, nor is there a moment
of relaxation of the tedious and vexatious labors of their drivers,
although to all others the march furnishes some reason of relaxation
or enjoyment. For the cow-drivers, there is none.
But from the standpoint of the hunters the vexations are not apparent;
the crack of whip and loud objurgations are lost in the distance.
Nothing of the moving panorama, smooth and orderly as it appears, has
more attraction for the eye than that vast square column in which all
colors are mingled, moving here slowly and there briskly as impelled
by horsemen riding furiously in front and rear.
But the picture, in its grandeur, its wonderful mingling of colors and
distinctness of detail, is forgotten in contemplation of the singular
people who give it life and animation. No other race of men, with the
means at their command, would undertake so great a journey; none save
these could successfully perform it, with no previous preparation,
relying only on the fertility of their invention to devise the means
to overcome each danger and difficulty as it arose.
They have undertaken to perform with slow-moving oxen, a journey of
two thousand miles. The way lies over trackless wastes, wide and deep
rivers, rugged and lofty mountains, and it is beset with hostile
savages. Yet, whether it were a deep river with no tree upon its
banks, a rugged defile where even a loose horse could not pass, a
hill too steep for him to climb, or a threatened attack of an enemy,
they are always found ready and equal to the occasion, and always
conquerors. May we not call them men of destiny? They are people
changed in no essential particulars from their ancestors, who have
followed closely on the footsteps of the receding savage, from the
Atlantic sea-board to the great valley of the Mississippi.
But while we have been gazing at the picture in the valley, the
hunters have been examining the high plain in the other direction.
Some dark moving objects have been discovered in the distance, and all
are closely watching them to discover what they are, for in the
atmosphere of the plains a flock of crows marching miles away, or a
band of buffaloes or Indians at ten times the distance look alike, and
many ludicrous mistakes occur. But these are buffaloes, for two have
struck their heads together, and are alternately pushing each other
back. The hunters mount and away in pursuit, and I, a poor cow-driver,
must hurry back to my daily toil, and take a scolding from my
fellow-herders for so long playing truant.
The pilot, by measuring the ground and timing the speed of the wagons
and the walk of his horses, has determined the rate of each, so as to
enable him to select the nooning place, as nearly as the requisite
grass and water can be had at the end of five hours' travel of the
wagons. To-day, the ground being favorable, little time has been lost
in preparing the road, so that he and his pioneers are at the nooning
place an hour in advance of the wagons, which time is spent in
preparing convenient watering places for the animals, and digging
little wells near the bank of the Platte.
As the teams are not unyoked, but simply turned loose from their
wagons, a corral is not formed at noon, but the wagons are drawn up in
columns, four abreast, the leading wagon of each platoon on the
left--the platoons being formed with that view. This brings friends
together at noon as well as at night.
To-day, an extra session of the Council is being held, to settle a
dispute that does not admit of delay, between a proprietor and a young
man who has undertaken to do a man's service on the journey for bed
and board. Many such engagements exist, and much interest is taken in
the manner this high court, from which there is no appeal, will define
the rights of each party in such engagements.
The Council was a high court in a most exalted sense. It was a Senate,
composed of the ablest and most respected fathers of the emigration.
It exercised both legislative and judicial powers, and its laws and
decisions proved it equal and worthy the high trust reposed in it. Its
sessions were usually held on days when the caravan was not moving.
It first took the state of the little commonwealth into consideration;
revised or repealed rules defective or obsolete, and enacted such
others as the exigencies seemed to require. The common weal being
cared for, it next resolved itself into a court to hear and settle
private disputes and grievances.
The offender and the aggrieved appeared before it; witnesses were
examined and the parties were heard by themselves and sometimes by
counsel. The judges thus being made fully acquainted with the case,
and being in no way influenced or cramped by technicalities, decided
all cases according to their merits. There was but little use for
lawyers before this court, for no plea was entertained which was
calculated to hinder or defeat the ends of justice.
Many of these Judges have since won honors in higher spheres. They
have aided to establish on the broad basis of right and universal
liberty two of the pillars of our Great Republic in the Occident. Some
of the young men who appeared before them as advocates have themselves
sat upon the highest judicial tribunal, commanded armies, been
Governors of States, and taken high positions in the Senate of the
Nation.
It is now one o'clock; the bugle has sounded, and the caravan has
resumed its westward journey. It is in the same order, but the
evening is far less animated than the morning march; a drowsiness has
fallen apparently on man and beast; teamsters drop asleep on their
perches and even when walking by their teams, and the words of command
are now addressed to the slowly-creeping oxen in the softened tenor of
a woman or the piping treble of children, while the snores of
teamsters make a droning accompaniment.
But a little incident breaks the monotony of the march. An emigrant's
wife, whose state of health has caused Dr. Whitman to travel near the
wagon for the day, is now taken with violent illness. The Doctor has
had the wagon driven out of the line, a tent pitched and a fire
kindled. Many conjectures are hazarded in regard to this mysterious
proceeding, and as to why this lone wagon is to be left behind.
And we, too, must leave it, hasten to the front and note the
proceedings, for the sun is now getting low in the west, and at length
the painstaking pilot is standing ready to conduct the train in the
circle which he had previously measured and marked out, which is to
form the invariable fortification for the night.
The leading wagons follow him so nearly round the circle, that but a
wagon length separates them. Each wagon follows in its track, the rear
closing on the front until its tongue and ox-chains will perfectly
reach from one to the other, and so accurate the measurement and
perfect the practice, that the hindmost wagon of the train always
precisely closes the gateway. As each wagon is brought into position,
it is dropped from its team (the teams being inside the circle), the
team unyoked, and the yokes and chains are used to connect the wagon
strongly with that in its front.
Within ten minutes from the time the leading wagon halted the
barricade is formed, the teams unyoked and driven out to pasture.
Every one is busy preparing fires of buffalo chips to cook the evening
meal, pitching tents and otherwise preparing for the night.
There are anxious watchers for the absent wagon, for there are many
matrons who may be afflicted like its inmate before the journey is
over, and they fear the strange and startling practice of this Oregon
doctor will be dangerous. But as the sun goes down, the absent wagon
rolls into camp, the bright, speaking face and cheery look of the
doctor, who rides in advance, declare without words that all is well,
and that both mother and child are comfortable.
I would fain now and here pay a passing tribute to that noble and
devoted man, Dr. Whitman. I will obtrude no other name upon the
reader, nor would I his, were he of our party or even living, but his
stay with us was transient, though the good he did was permanent, and
he has long since died at his post.
From the time he joined us on the Platte, until he left us at Fort
Hall, his great experience and indomitable energy was of priceless
value to the migrating column. His constant advice, which we knew was
based upon a knowledge of the road before us, was "travel, travel,
travel--nothing else will take you to the end of your journey; nothing
is wise that does not help you along; nothing is good for you that
causes a moment's delay."
His great authority as a physician and complete success in the case
above referred to, saved us many prolonged and perhaps ruinous delays
from similar causes, and it is no disparagement to others to say that
to no other individual are the immigrants of 1843 so much indebted for
the successful conclusion of th
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