"I linger yet with Nature."
MANFRED.
"Onward still I press,
Follow thy windings still, yet sigh for more."
GOETHE.
"God's my life, did you ever hear the like!
What a strange man is this!"
BEN JONSON.
But a very few years have passed away since the navigation of the
Mississippi was that of one of the most dangerous streams on the
globe; but, thanks to the enterprising genius of the scientific
Shreve, this may no longer with truth be said. In 1824 the first
appropriation[57] was voted by Congress for improving the navigation
of the Western rivers; and since that period thousands of snags,
sawyers, {64} planters, sand-bars, sunken rocks, and fallen trees have
been removed, until all that now remains is to prevent new obstacles
from accumulating where the old have been eradicated. For much of its
course in its lower sections, the Mississippi is now quite safe; and
as the progress of settlements advances upon its banks, the navigation
of this noble stream will doubtless become unobstructed in its whole
magnificent journey from the falls of the "Laughing Water" to the
Mexican Gulf. The indefatigable industry, the tireless perseverance,
the indomitable enterprise, and the enlarged and scientific policy of
Captain Shreve, the projector and accomplisher of the grand national
operations upon the Western rivers, can never be estimated beyond
their merit. The execution of that gigantic undertaking, the removal
of the Red River Raft, has identified his history with that of the
empire West;[58] his fame will endure so long as those magnificent
streams, with which his name is associated, shall continue to roll on
their volumed waters to the deep.
These remarks have been suggested by scenes of constant recurrence to
the traveller on the Mississippi. The banks, the forests, the islands
all differ as much as the stream itself from those of the soft-gliding
Ohio. Instead of those dense emerald masses of billowy foliage
swelling gracefully up from the banks of "the beautiful river," those
of the Mississippi throw back a rough, ragged outline; their sands
piled with logs and uprooted trees, while heaps of wreck and
drift-wood betray the wild ravages of the stream. In the midst of {65}
the mass a single enormous sycamore often rears its ghastly limbs,
while at its foot springs gracefully up a light fringe of the pensile
willow. Sometimes, too, a huge sawyer, clinging upon the verge of the
channel, heaves up its black mass above the surface, then falls, and
again rises with the rush of the current. Against one of these sawyers
is sometimes lodged a mass of drift-wood, pressing it firmly upon the
bottom, till, by a constant accumulation, a foundation is gradually
laid and a new island is formed: this again, by throwing the water
from its course, causes a new channel, which, infringing with violence
upon the opposite bank, undermines it with its colonnade of enormous
trees, and thus new material in endless succession is afforded for
obstructions to the navigation. The deposites of alluvion along the
banks betray a similar origin of gradual accumulation by the annual
floods. In some sections of the American Bottom,[59] commencing at its
southern extremity with the Kaskaskia River, the mould, upward of
thirty feet in depth, is made up of numerous strata of earth, which
may be readily distinguished and counted by the colours.
About twenty miles above the mouth of the Kaskaskia is situated Ste.
Genevieve, grand deposite of the lead of the celebrated ancient mines
_La Motte_, and _A'Burton_, and others, some thirty miles in the
interior, and the market which supplies all the mining district of the
vicinity.[60] It was first commenced about the year 1774 by the
original settlers of Upper Louisiana; and the Canadian {66} French,
with their descendants, constitute a large portion of its present
inhabitants. The population does not now exceed eight hundred, though
it is once said to have numbered two thousand inhabitants. Some of the
villagers are advanced in years, and among them is M. Valle, one of
the chief proprietors of _Mine la Motte_, who, though now some ninety
years of age, is almost as active as when fifty.[61] Ste. Genevieve
is situated about one mile from the Mississippi, upon a broad alluvial
plain lying between the branches of a small stream called _Gabourie_.
Beyond the first bottom rises a second steppe, and behind this yet a
third, attaining an elevation of more than a hundred feet from the
water's edge. Upon this elevated site was erected, some twenty years
since, a handsome structure of stone, commanding a noble prospect of
the river, the broad American Bottom on the opposite side, and the
bluffs beyond the Kaskaskia. It was intended for a literary
institution; but, owing to unfavourable reports with regard to the
health of its situation, the design was abandoned, and the edifice was
never completed. It is now in a state of "ruinous perfection," and
enjoys the reputation, moreover, of being _haunted_. In very sooth,
its aspect, viewed from the river at twilight, with its broken windows
outlined against the western sky, is wild enough to warrant such an
idea or any other. A courthouse and Catholic chapel constitute the
public buildings. To the south of the village, and lying upon the
river, is situated the common field, originally comprising {67} two
thousand _arpens_; but it is now much less in extent, and is yearly
diminishing from the action of the current upon the alluvial banks.
These common fields were granted by the Spanish government, as well as
by the French, to every village settled under their domination. A
single enclosure at the expense of the villagers was erected and kept
in repair, and the lot of every individual was separated from his
neighbour's by a double furrow. Near this field the village was
formerly located; but in the inundation of 1785, called by the old
_habitans_ "_L'annee des grandes eaux_," so much of the bank was
washed away that the settlers were forced to select a more elevated
site. The Mississippi was at this time swelled to thirty feet above
the highest water-mark before known; and the town of Kaskaskia and the
whole American Bottom were inundated.
Almost every description of minerals are to be found in the county, of
which Ste. Genevieve is the seat of justice. But of all other species,
iron ore is the most abundant. The celebrated _Iron Mountain_ and the
_Pilot Knob_ are but forty miles distant.[62] Abundance of coal is
found in the opposite bluffs in Illinois. About twelve miles from the
village has been opened a quarry of beautiful white marble, in some
respects thought not inferior to that of Carrara. There are also said
to be immense caves of pure white sand, of dazzling lustre, quantities
of which are transported to Pittsburg for the manufacture of flint
glass. There are a number of beautiful fountains in the neighbourhood,
one of which is said to be of surpassing loveliness. It is several
{68} yards square, and rushes up from a depth of fifteen or twenty
feet, enclosed upon three sides by masses of living rock, over which,
in pensile gracefulness, repose the long glossy branches of the forest
trees.
The early French settlers manufactured salt a few miles from the
village, at a saline formerly occupied by the aborigines, the remains
of whose earthen kettles are yet found on the spot. About thirty years
since a village of the Peoria Indians was situated where the French
common field now stands;[63] and from the ancient mounds found in the
vicinity, and the vast quantities of animal and human remains, and
utensils of pottery exhumed from the soil, the spot seems to have been
a favourite location of a race whose destiny, and origin, and history
are alike veiled in oblivion. The view of Ste. Genevieve from the
water is picturesque and beautiful, and its landing is said to be
superior to any between the mouth of the Ohio and the city of St.
Louis. The village has that decayed and venerable aspect
characteristic of all these early French settlements.
As we were passing Ste. Genevieve an accident occurred which had
nearly proved fatal to our boat, if not to the lives of all on board
of her. A race which took place between another steamer and our own
has been noticed. In some unaccountable manner, this boat, which then
passed us, fell again in the rear, and now, for the last hour, had
been coming up in our wake under high steam. On overtaking us, she
attempted, contrary to all rules and regulations {69} for the
navigation of the river provided, to pass between our boat and the
bank beneath which we were moving; an outrage which, had it been
persisted in a moment longer than was fortunately the case, would have
sent us to the bottom. For a single instant, as she came rushing on,
contact seemed inevitable; and, as her force was far superior to our
own, and the recklessness of many who have the guidance of Western
steamers was well known to us all, the passengers stood clustering
around upon the decks, some pale with apprehension, and others with
firearms in their hands, flushed with excitement, and prepared to
render back prompt retribution on the first aggression. The pilot of
the hostile boat, from his exposed situation and the virulent feelings
against him, would have met with certain death; and he, consequently,
contrary to the express injunctions of the master, reversed the motion
of the wheels just at the instant to avoid the fatal encounter. The
sole cause for this outrage, we subsequently learned, was a private
pique existing between the pilots of the respective steamers. One
cannot restrain an expression of indignant feeling at such an
exhibition of foolhardy recklessness. It is strange, after all the
fearful accidents of this description upon the Western waters, and
that terrible prodigality of human life which for years past has been
constantly exhibited, there should yet be found individuals so utterly
regardless of the safety of their fellow-men, and so destitute of
every emotion of generous feeling, as to force their way heedlessly
onward into {70} danger, careless of any issue save the paltry
gratification of private vengeance. It is a question daily becoming of
more startling import, How may these fatal occurrences be successfully
opposed? Where lies the fault? Is it in public sentiment? Is it in
legal enactment? Is it in individual villany? However this may be, our
passage seemed fraught with adventure, of which this is but an
incident. After the event mentioned, having composed the agitation
consequent, we had retired to our berths, and were just buried in
profound sleep, when crash--our boat's bow struck heavily against a
snag, which, glancing along the bottom, threw her at once upon her
beams, and all the passengers on the elevated side from their berths.
No serious injury was sustained, though alarm and confusion enough
were excited by such an unceremonious turn-out. The dismay and
tribulation of some of our worthy company were entirely too ludicrous
for the risibles of the others, and a hearty roar of cachinnation was
heard even above the ejaculations of distress; a very improper thing,
no doubt, and not at all to be recommended on such occasions, as one
would hardly wish to make a grave "unknell'd and uncoffin'd" in the
Mississippi, with a broad grin upon his phiz.
In alluding to the race which took place during our passage,
honourable mention was made of a certain worthy individual whose
vocation was to feed the furnaces; and one bright morning, when all
the others of our company had bestowed themselves in their berths
because of the intolerable {71} heat, I took occasion to visit the
sooty Charon in the purgatorial realms over which he wielded the
sceptre. "Grievous work this building fires under a sun like that,"
was the salutation, as my friend the fireman had just completed the
toilsome operation once more of stuffing the furnace, while floods of
perspiration were coursing down a chest hairy as Esau's in the
Scripture, and as brawny. Hereupon honest Charon lifted up his face,
and drawing a dingy shirt sleeve with emphasis athwart his eyes,
bleared with smut, responded, "Ay, ay, sir; it's a sin to Moses, such
a trade;" and seizing incontinently upon a fragment of tin, fashioned
by dint of thumping into a polygonal dipper of unearthly dimensions,
he scooped up a quantity of the turbid fluid through which we were
moving, and deep, deep was the potation which, like a succession of
rapids, went gurgling down his throat. Marvellously refreshed, the
worthy genius dilated, much to my edification, upon the glories of a
fireman's life. "Upon this hint I spake" touching the topic of our
recent race; and then were the strings of the old worthy's tongue let
loose; and vehemently amplified he upon "our smart chance of a gallop"
and "the slight sprinkling of steam he had managed to push up." "Ah,
stranger, I'll allow, and couldn't I have teetotally obfusticated her,
and right mightily used her up, hadn't it been I was sort of bashful
as to keeping path with such a cursed old mud-turtle! But it's all
done gone;" and the droughty Charon seized another swig from the
unearthly dipper; and closing hermetically his lantern jaws, and
resuming his _infernal_ {72} labours, to which those of Alcmena's son
or of Tartarean Sysiphus were trifles, I had the discretion to betake
myself to the upper world.
During the night, after passing Ste. Genevieve, our steamer landed at
a woodyard in the vicinity of that celebrated old fortress, Fort
Chartres, erected by the French while in possession of Illinois; once
the most powerful fortification in North America, but now a pile of
ruins.[64] It is situated about three miles from _Prairie de Rocher_,
a little antiquated French hamlet, the scene of one of Hall's Western
Legends.[65] We could see nothing of the old fort from our situation
on the boat; but its vast ruins, though now a shattered heap, and
shrouded with forest-trees of more than half a century's growth, are
said still to proclaim in their finished and ponderous masonry its
ancient grandeur and strength. In front stretches a large island in
the stream, which has received from the old ruin a name. It is not a
little surprising that there exists no description of this venerable
pile worthy its origin and eventful history.
_Mississippi River._