"Once more upon the waters, yet once more!"
_Childe Harold._
"I believe this is the finest confluence in the world."
CHARLEVOIX.
"'Tis twilight now;
The sovereign sun behind his western hills
In glory hath declined."
BLACKWOOD'S _Magazine_.
A bright, sunny summer morning as ever smiled from the blue heavens,
and again I found myself upon the waters. Fast fading in the distance
lay the venerable little city of the French, with its ancient edifices
and its narrow streets, while in anticipation was a journeying of some
hundred miles up the Illinois. Sweeping along past the city and the
extended line of steamers at the landing, my attention was arrested by
that series of substantial stone mills situated upon the shore
immediately above, and a group of swarthy little Tritons disporting
themselves in the turbid waters almost beneath our paddle-wheels.
Among other singular objects were divers of those nondescript
inventions of Captain Shreve, yclept by the boatmen "Uncle Sam's
Tooth-pullers;" and, judging from their ferocious physiognomy, and the
miracles they have effected in the navigation of the great waters of
the West, well do they correspond to the _soubriquet_. {85} The craft
consists of two perfect hulls, constructed with a view to great
strength; united by heavy beams, and, in those parts most exposed,
protected by an armature of iron. The apparatus for eradicating the
snags is comprised in a simple wheel and axle, auxiliary to a pair of
powerful steam-engines, with the requisite machinery for locomotion,
and a massive beam uniting the bows of the hulls, sheathed with iron.
The _modus operandi_ in tearing up a snag, or sawyer, or any like
obstruction from the bed of the stream, appears to be this:
Commencing at some distance below, in order to gain an impetus as
powerful as possible, the boat is forced, under a full pressure of
steam, against the snag, the head of which, rearing itself above the
water, meets the strong transverse beam of which I have spoken, and is
immediately elevated a number of feet above the surface. A portion of
the log is then severed, and the roots are torn out by the windlass,
or application of the main strength of the engines; or, if
practicable, the first operation is repeated until the obstacle is
completely eradicated. The efficiency of this instrument has been
tested by the removal of some thousand obstructions, at an average
expense of about twelve or fifteen dollars each.
Along the river-banks in the northern suburbs of the city lie the
scattered ruins of an ancient fortification of the Spanish government,
when it held domination over the territory; and one circular structure
of stone, called "Roy's Tower," now occupied as a dwelling, yet
remains entire. There is also an {86} old castle of stone in tolerable
preservation, surrounded by a wall of the same material.[76] Some of
these venerable relics of former time--alas! for the irreverence of
the age--have been converted into limekilns, and into lime itself, for
aught that is known to the contrary! The waterworks, General Ashley's
beautiful residence, and that series of ancient mounds for which St.
Louis is famous, were next passed in succession, while upon the right
stretched out the long low outline of "Blood Island" in the middle of
the stream.[77] For several miles above the city, as we proceeded up
the river, pleasant villas, with their white walls and cultivated
grounds, were caught from time to time by the eye, glancing through
the green foliage far in the interior. It was a glorious day. Silvery
cloudlets were floating along the upper sky like spiritual creations,
and a fresh breeze was rippling the waters: along the banks stood out
the huge spectral Titans of the forest, heaving aloft their naked
limbs like monuments of "time departed," while beneath reposed the
humble hut and clearing of the settler.
It was nearly midday, after leaving St. Louis, that we reached the
embouchure of the Missouri. Twenty miles before attaining that point,
the confluent streams flow along in two distinct currents upon either
shore, the one white, clayey, and troubled, the other a deep blue. The
river sweeps along, indeed, in two distinct streams past the city of
St. Louis, upon either side of Blood Island, nor does it unite its
heterogeneous floods for many miles below. At intervals, as the huge
mass rolls itself {87} along, vast whirls and swells of turbid water
burst out upon the surface, producing an aspect not unlike the sea in
a gusty day, mottled by the shadows of scudding clouds.
Charlevoix,[78] the chronicler of the early French explorations in
North America, with reference to this giant confluence, more than a
century since thus writes: "I believe this is the finest confluence in
the world. The two rivers are much of the same breadth, each about
half a league, but the Missouri is by far the most rapid, and seems to
enter the Mississippi like a conqueror, through which it carries its
white waves to the opposite shore without mixing them. Afterward it
gives its colour to the Mississippi, which it never loses again, but
carries quite down to the sea." This account, with all due
consideration for the venerable historian, accords not precisely with
the scene of the confluence at the present day, at least not as it has
appeared to myself. The Missouri, indeed, rolls in its heavy volume
with the impetuosity and bearing of a "conqueror" upon the tranquil
surface of its rival; but entering, as it does, at right angles, its
waters are met in their headlong course, and almost rolled back upon
themselves for an instant by the mighty momentum of the flood they
strike. This is manifested by, and accounts for, that well-defined
line of light mud-colour extending from bank to bank across its mouth,
bounded by the dark blue of the Upper Mississippi, and flowing
sluggishly along in a lengthened and dingy stain, like a fringe upon
the western shore. The breadth of the embouchure is about one mile,
and its {88} channel lies nearly in the centre, bounded by vast
sand-bars--sediment of the waters--upon either side. The alluvial
deposites, with which it is heavily charged, accumulate also in
several islands near the confluence, while the rivers united spread
themselves out into an immense lake. As the steamer glides along among
these islands opposite the Missouri, the scene with its associations
is grand beyond description. Far up the extended vista of the stream,
upon a lofty bluff, stands out a structure which marks the site of the
ancient military post of "Belle Fontaine;"[79] while on the opposite
bank, stretching inland from the point heavily wooded, lies the broad
and beautiful prairie of the "Mamelles."[80] Directly fronting the
confluence stand a range of heights upon the Illinois shore, from the
summit of which is spread out, like a painting, one of the most
extraordinary views in the world.
The Mississippi, above its junction with its turbid tributary, is, as
has been remarked, a clear, sparkling, beautiful stream; now flashing
in silvery brilliance over its white sand-bars, then retreating far
into the deep indentations of its shady banks, and again spreading out
its waters into a tranquil, lakelike basin miles in extent, studded
with islets.
The far-famed village of Alton, situated upon the Illinois shore a few
miles above the confluence, soon rose before us in the distance. When
its multiform declivities shall have been smoothed away by the hand of
enterprise and covered with handsome edifices, it will doubtless
present a fine appearance {89} from the water; as it now remains, its
aspect is rugged enough. The Penitentiary, a huge structure of stone,
is rather too prominent a feature in the scene. Indeed, it is the
first object which strikes the attention, and reminds one of a gray
old baronial castle of feudal days more than of anything else. The
churches, of which there are several, and the extensive warehouses
along the shore, have an imposing aspect, and offer more agreeable
associations. As we drew nigh to Alton, the fireman of our steamer
deemed proper, in testimonial of the dignity of our arrival, to let
off a certain rusty old swivel which chanced to be on board; and to
have witnessed the marvellous fashion in which this important
manoeuvre was executed by our worthies, would have pardoned a smile
on the visage of Heraclitus himself. One lanky-limbed genius held a
huge dipper of gunpowder; another, seizing upon the extremity of a
hawser, and severing a generous fragment, made use thereof for
wadding; a third rammed home the charge with that fearful weapon
wherewith he poked the furnaces; while a fourth, honest wight--all
preparation being complete--advanced with a shovel of glowing coals,
which, poured upon the touchhole, the old piece was briefly delivered
of its charge, and the woods, and shores, and welkin rang again to the
roar. If we made not our entrance into Alton with "pomp and
circumstance," it was surely the fault of any one but our worthy
fireman.
The site of Alton, at the confluence of three large and navigable
streams; its extensive back country {90} of great fertility; the vast
bodies of heavy timber on every side; its noble quarries of stone; its
inexhaustible beds of bituminous coal only one mile distant, and its
commodious landing, all seem to indicate the design of Nature that
here should arise a populous and wealthy town. The place has been laid
off by its proprietors in liberal style; five squares have been
reserved for public purposes, with a promenade and landing, and the
corporate bounds extend two miles along the river, and half a mile
into the interior. Yet Alton, with all its local and artificial
advantages, is obnoxious to objections. Its situation, in one section
abrupt and precipitous, while in another depressed and confined, and
the extensive alluvion lying between the two great rivers opposite, it
is believed, will always render it more or less unhealthy; and its
unenviable proximity to St. Louis will never cease to retard its
commercial advancement.
The _city_ of Alton, as it is now styled by its charter, was founded
in the year 1818 by a gentleman who gave the place his name;[81] but,
until within the six years past, it could boast but few houses and
little business. Its population now amounts to several thousands, and
its edifices for business, private residence, or public convenience
are large and elegant structures. Its stone churches present an
imposing aspect to the visiter. The streets are from forty to eighty
feet in width, and extensive operations are in progress to render the
place as uniform as its site will admit. A contract has been recently
entered upon to construct a culvert over the Little Piasa Creek, {91}
which passes through the centre of the town, upon which are to be
extended streets. The expense is estimated at sixty thousand dollars.
The creek issues from a celebrated fountain among the bluffs called
"Cave Spring." Alton is not a little celebrated for its liberal
contribution to the moral improvements of the day. To mention but a
solitary instance, a gentleman of the place recently made a donation
of ten thousand dollars for the endowment of a female seminary at
Monticello,[82] a village five miles to the north; and measures are in
progress to carry the design into immediate execution. Two railroads
are shortly to be constructed from Alton; one to Springfield, seventy
miles distant, and the other to Mount Carmel on the Wabash. The stock
of each has been mostly subscribed, and they cannot fail, when
completed, to add much to the importance of the places. Alton is also
a _proposed_ terminus of two of the state railroads, and of the
Cumberland Road.[83]
At Alton terminates the "American Bottom," and here commences that
singular series of green, grassy mounds, rounding off the steep
summits of the cliffs as they rise from the water, which every
traveller cannot but have noticed and admired. It was a calm,
beautiful evening when we left the village; and, gliding beneath the
magnificent bluffs, held our way up the stream, breaking in upon its
tranquil surface, and rolling its waters upon either side in
tumultuous waves to the shore. The rich purple of departing day was
dying the western heavens; the light gauzy haze of twilight was
unfolding itself like a veil over the forest-tops; "Maro's shepherd
{92} star" was stealing timidly forth upon the brow of night; the
flashing fireflies along the underbrush were beginning their splendid
illuminations, and the mild melody of a flute and a few fine voices
floating over the shadowy waters, lent the last touching to a scene of
beauty. A little French village, with its broad galleries, and steep
roofs, and venerable church, in a few miles appeared among the
underbrush on the left.[84] Upon the opposite shore the bluffs began
to assume a singular aspect, as if the solid mass of limestone high up
had been subjected to the excavation of rushing waters. The cliffs
elevated themselves from the river's edge like a regular succession of
enormous pillars, rendered more striking by their ashy hue. This giant
colonnade--in some places exceeding an altitude of an hundred feet,
and exhibiting in its façade the openings of several caves--extended
along the stream until we reached Grafton,[85] at the mouth of the
Illinois; the calm, beautiful, ever-placid Illinois; beautiful now as
on the day the enthusiast voyageur first deemed it the pathway to a
"paradise upon earth." The moon was up, and her beams were resting
mellowly upon the landscape. Far away, even to the blue horizon, the
mirror-surface of the stream unfolded its vistas to the eye; upon its
bosom slumbered the bright islets, like spirits of the waters, from
whose clear depths stood out the reflection of their forests, while to
the left opened upon the view a glimpse of the "Mamelle Prairie,"
rolling its bright waves of verdure beneath the moonlight like a field
of fairy land. For an hour we gazed upon this magnificent scene, and
the bright {93} waves dashed in sparkles from our bow, retreating in
lengthened wake behind us, until our steamer turned from the
Mississippi, and we were gliding along beneath the deep shadows of the
forested Illinois.
_Illinois River._