"Westward the star of empire holds its way."
BERKELEY.
"Travellers entering here behold around
A large and spacious plain, on every side
Strew'd with beauty, whose fair grassy ground,
Mantled with green, and goodly beautified
With all the ornaments of Flora's pride."
"The flowers, the fair young flowers."
"Ye are the stars of earth."
Ten years ago, and the pleasant little village of St. Charles was
regarded as quite the frontier-post of civilized life; now it is a
flourishing town, and an early stage in the traveller's route to the
Far West. Its origin, with that of most of the early settlements in
this section of the valley, is French, and {19} some few of the
peculiar characteristics of its founders are yet retained, though
hardly to the extent as in some other villages which date back to the
same era. The ancient style of some of the buildings, the singular
costume, the quick step, the dark complexion, dark eyes and dark hair,
and the merry, fluent flow of a nondescript idiom, are, however, at
once perceived by the stranger, and indicate a peculiar people. St.
Charles was settled in 1769, and for upward of forty years retained
its original name, _Les Petites Cotes_. For some time it was under the
Spanish government with the rest of the territory, and from this
circumstance and a variety of others its population is made up of a
heterogeneous mass of people, from almost every nation under the sun.
Quite a flood of German emigration has, within six or seven years
past, poured into the county. That wizard spell, however, under which
all these early French settlements seem to have been lying for more
than a century, St. Charles has not, until within a few years past,
possessed the energy to throw off, though now the inroads of American
enterprise upon the ancient order of things is too palpable to be
unobserved or mistaken. The site of the town is high and healthy, upon
a bed of limestone extending along the stream, and upon a narrow
_plateau_ one or two miles in extent beneath the overhanging bluffs.
Upon this interval are laid off five streets parallel with the river,
only the first of which is lined with buildings. Below the village the
alluvion stretches along the margin of the stream for three miles,
until, reaching the termination of the {20} highlands at the Mamelles,
it spreads itself out to the north and west into the celebrated
prairie I have described. St. Charles has long been a great
thoroughfare to the vast region west of the Missouri, and must always
continue so to be: a railroad from St. Louis in this direction must
pass through the place, as well as the national road now in progress.
These circumstances, together with its eligible site for commerce; the
exhaustless fertility of the neighbouring region, and the quantities
of coal and iron it is believed to contain, must render St. Charles,
before many years have passed away, a place of considerable mercantile
and manufacturing importance. It has an extensive steam flouring-mill
in constant operation; and to such an extent is the cultivation of
wheat carried on in the surrounding country, for which the soil is
pre-eminently suited, that in this respect alone the place must become
important. About six miles south of St. Charles, upon the Booneslick
road, is situated a considerable settlement, composed chiefly of
gentlemen from the city of Baltimore.[172] The country is exceedingly
beautiful, healthy, and fertile; the farms are under high cultivation,
and the tone of society is distinguished for its refinement and
intelligence.
The citizens of St. Charles are many of them Catholics; and a male and
female seminary under their patronage are in successful operation, to
say nothing of a nunnery, beneath the shade of which such institutions
invariably repose. "St. Charles College," a Protestant institute of
two or three years' standing, is well supported, having four
professors {21} and about a hundred students.[173] Its principal
building is a large and elegant structure of brick, and the seminary
will doubtless, ere long, become an ornament to the place. At no
distant day it may assume the character and standing of its elder
brothers east of the Alleghanies; and the muse that ever delights to
revel in college-hall may strike her lyre even upon the banks of the
far-winding, wilderness Missouri.
Among the heterogeneous population of St. Charles are still numbered a
few of those wild, daring spirits, whose lives and exploits are so
intimately identified with the early history of the country, and most
of whose days are now passed beyond the border, upon the broad
buffalo-plains at the base of the Rocky Mountains. Most of them are
trappers, hunters, _couriers du bois_, traders to the distant post of
Santa Fé, or _engagés_ of the American Fur Company. Into the company
of one of these remarkable men it was my fortune to fall during my
visit at St. Charles; and not a little to my interest and edification
did he recount many of his "hairbreadth 'scapes," his "most disastrous
chances,"
"His moving accidents by flood and field."
All of this, not to mention sundry sage items on the most approved
method of capturing _deer_, _bar_, _buffalo_, and _painters_, I must
be permitted to waive. I am no tale-teller, "but your mere traveller,
believe me," as Ben Jonson has it. The proper home of the buffalo
seems now to be the vast {22} plains south and west of the Missouri
border, called the Platte country, compared with which the prairies
east of the Mississippi are mere meadows in miniature. The latter
region was, doubtless, once a favourite resort of the animal, and the
banks of the "beautiful river" were long his grazing-grounds; but the
onward march of civilization has driven him, with the Indian, nearer
the setting sun. Upon the plains they now inhabit they rove in herds
of thousands; they regularly migrate with change of season, and, in
crossing rivers, many are squeezed to death. Dead bodies are sometimes
found floating upon the Missouri far down its course.
With the village and county of St. Charles are connected most of the
events attending the early settlement of the region west of the
Mississippi; and during the late war with Great Britain, the
atrocities of the savage tribes were chiefly perpetrated here. Early
in that conflict the Sacs and Foxes, Miamis, Pottawattamies, Iowas,
and Kickapoo Indians commenced a most savage warfare upon the advanced
settlements, and the deeds of daring which distinguished the gallant
"rangers" during the two years in which, unaided by government, they
sustained, single-handed, the conflict against a crafty foe, are
almost unequalled in the history of warfare.[174] St. Charles county
and the adjoining county of Booneslick were the principal scene of a
conflict in which boldness and barbarity, courage and cruelty,
contended long for the mastery. The latter county to which I have
alluded {23} received its name from the celebrated Daniel Boone.[175]
After being deprived, by the chicanery of law, of that spot for which
he had endured so much and contended so boldly in the beautiful land
of his adoption, we find him, at the close of the last century,
journeying onward towards the West, there to pass the evening of his
days and lay away his bones. Being asked "_why_ he had left that dear
Kentucke, which he had discovered and won from the wild Indian, for
the wilderness of Missouri," his memorable reply betrays the leading
feature of his character, the _primum mobile_ of the man: "Too
crowded! too crowded! I want elbow-room!" At the period of Boone's
arrival in 1798, the only form of government which existed in this
distant region was that of the "Regulators," a sort of military or
hunters' republic, the chief of which was styled _commandant_. To this
office the old veteran was at once elected, and continued to exercise
its rather arbitrary prerogatives until, like his former home, the
country had become subject to other laws and other councils. He
continued here to reside, however, until the death of his much-loved
wife, partner of all his toils and adventures, in 1813, when he
removed to the residence of his son, some miles in the interior. Here
he discovered a large and productive salt-lick, long and profitably
worked, and which still continues to bear his name and give celebrity
to the surrounding country. To this lick was the old hunter accustomed
to repair in his aged days, when his sinews were unequal to the chase,
and lie in wait for the deer {24} which frequented the spring. In this
occupation and in that of trapping beavers he lived comfortably on
until 1818, when he calmly yielded up his adventurous spirit to its
God.[176] What an eventful life was that! How varied and wonderful
its incidents! How numerous and pregnant its vicissitudes! How strange
the varieties of natural character it developed! The name of Boone
will never cease to be remembered so long as this Western Valley
remains the pride of a continent, and the beautiful streams of his
discovery roll on their teeming tribute to the ocean!
Of the Indian tribe which formerly inhabited this pleasant region, and
gave a name to the river and state, scarcely a vestige is now to be
seen. The only associations connected with the savages are of
barbarity and perfidy. Upon the settlers of St. Charles county it was
that Black Hawk directed his first efforts;[177] and, until within a
few years, a stoccade fort for refuge in emergency has existed in
every considerable settlement. Among a variety of traditionary matter
related to me relative to the customs of the tribe which formerly
resided near St. Charles, the following anecdote from one of the
oldest settlers may not prove uninteresting.
"Many years ago, while the Indian yet retained a crumbling foothold
upon this pleasant land of his fathers, a certain Cis-atlantic
naturalist--so the story goes--overflowing with laudable zeal for the
advancement of science, had succeeded in penetrating the wilds of
Missouri in pursuit of his favourite study. Early one sunny morning a
man in strange {25} attire was perceived by the simple natives running
about their prairie with uplifted face and outspread palms, eagerly in
pursuit of certain bright flies and insects, which, when secured, were
deposited with manifest satisfaction into a capacious tin box at his
girdle. Surprised at a spectacle so novel and extraordinary, a fleet
runner was despatched over the prairie to catch the curious animal and
conduct him into the village. A council of sober old chiefs was called
to _sit upon_ the matter, who, after listening attentively to all the
phenomena of the case, with a sufficiency of grunting, sagaciously and
decidedly pronounced the pale-face a _fool_. It was in vain the
unhappy man urged upon the assembled wisdom of the nation the
distinction between a _natural_ and a naturalist. The council grunted
to all he had to offer, but to them the distinction was without a
difference; they could comprehend not a syllable he uttered. 'Actions
speak louder than words'--so reasoned the old chiefs; and as the
custom was to _kill_ all their own fools, preparation was forthwith
commenced to administer this summary cure for folly upon the unhappy
naturalist. At this critical juncture a prudent old Indian suggested
the propriety, as the fool belonged to the 'pale faces,' of consulting
their 'Great Father' at St. Louis on the subject, and requesting his
presence at the execution. The sentence was suspended, therefore, for
a few hours, while a deputation was despatched to General Clarke,[178]
detailing all the circumstances of the case, and announcing the
intention of killing the fool as soon as possible. {26} The old
general listened attentively to the matter, and then quietly advised
them, as the _fool_ was a _pale face_, not to kill him, but to conduct
him safely to St. Louis, that he might dispose of him himself. This
proposition was readily acceded to, as the only wish of the Indians
was to rid the world of a _fool_. And thus was the worthy naturalist
relieved from an unpleasant predicament, not, however, without the
loss of his box of bugs; a loss he is said to have bewailed as
bitterly as, in anticipation, he had bewailed the loss of his head."
For the particulars of this anecdote I am no voucher; I give the tale
as told me; but as it doubtless has its origin in fact, it may have
suggested to the author of "The Prairie" that amusing character, "Obed
Battius, M.D.," especially as the scene of that interesting tale lies
in a neighbouring region.[179]
It was a sultry afternoon when I left St. Charles. The road for some
miles along the bottom runs parallel with the river, until, ascending
a slight elevation, the traveller is on the prairie. Upon this road I
had not proceeded many miles before I came fully to the conclusion,
that the route I was then pursuing would never conduct me and my horse
to the town of Grafton, Illinois, the point of my destination. In this
idea I was soon confirmed by a half-breed whom I chanced to meet.
Receiving a few general instructions, therefore, touching my route,
all of which I had quite forgotten ten minutes after, I pushed forth
into the pathless prairie, and was soon in its centre, almost buried,
with my horse beneath me, in the monstrous vegetation. {27} Between
the parallel rolls of the prairie, the size of the weeds and
undergrowth was stupendous; and the vegetation heaved in masses
heavily back and forth in the wind, as if for years it had flourished
on in rank, undisturbed luxuriance. Directly before me, along the
northern horizon, rose the white cliffs of the Mississippi, which, as
they went up to the sheer height, in some places, of several hundred
feet, presented a most mountain-like aspect as viewed over the level
surface of the plain. Towards a dim column of smoke which curled
lazily upward among these cliffs did I now direct my course. The broad
disk of the sun was rapidly wheeling down the western heavens; my
tired horse could advance through the heavy grass no faster than a
walk; the pale bluffs, apparently but a few miles distant, seemed
receding like an _ignis fatuus_ as I approached them; and there lay
the swampy forest to ford, and the "terrible Mississippi" beyond to
ferry, before I could hope for food or a resting-place. In simple
verity, I began to meditate upon the yielding character of
prairie-grass for a couch. And yet, of such surpassing loveliness was
the scene spread out around me, that I seemed hardly to realize a
situation disagreeable enough, but from which my thoughts were
constantly wandering. The grasses and flowering wild-plants of the
Mamelle Prairie are far-famed for their exquisite brilliancy of hue
and gracefulness of form. Among the flowers my eye detected a species
unlike to any I had yet met with, and which seemed indigenous only
here. Its fairy-formed corolla {28} was of a bright enamelled crimson,
which, in the depths of the dark herbage, glowed like a living coal.
How eloquently did this little flower bespeak the being and attributes
of its Maker. Ah!
"There is religion in a flower;
Mountains and oceans, planets, suns, and systems,
Bear not the impress of Almighty power
In characters more legible than those
Which he has written on the tiniest flower
Whose light bell bends beneath the dewdrop's weight."
One who has never looked upon the Western prairie in the pride of its
blushing bloom can hardly conceive the surpassing loveliness of its
summer flora; and, if the idea is not easy to conceive, still less is
it so to convey. The autumn flowers in their richness I have not yet
beheld; and in the early days of June, when I first stood upon the
prairies, the beauteous sisterhood of spring were all in their graves;
and the sweet springtime of the year it is when the gentle race of
flowers dance over the teeming earth in gayest guise and profusion. In
the first soft days of April, when the tender green of vegetation
begins to overspread the soil scathed by the fires of autumn, the
_viola_, primrose of the prairie, in all its rare and delicate forms;
the _anemone_ or wind-flower; the blue dewy harebell; the pale oxlip;
the flowering _arbute_, and all the pretty family of the pinks and
lilies lie sprinkled, as by the enchantment of a summer shower, or by
the tripping footsteps of Titania with her fairies, over the
landscape. The blue and the white then tint the perspective, from the
most {29} limpid cerulean of an _iris_ to the deep purple of the pink;
from the pearly lustre of the cowslip to the golden richness of the
buttercup. In early springtime, too, the island groves of the prairies
are also in flower; and the brilliant crimson of the _cercis
canadensis_, or Judas-tree; the delightful fragrance of the _lonicera_
or honeysuckle, and the light yellow of the _jasimum_, render the
forests as pleasant to the smell as to the eye. But spring-time passes
away, and with her pass away the fair young flowers her soft breath
had warmed into being. Summer comes over the prairies like a giant;
the fiery dog-star rages, and forth leap a host of bright ones to
greet his coming. The _heliotrope_ and _helianthus_, in all their rich
variety; the wild rose, flinging itself around the shrub-oak like a
wreath of rainbows; the _orchis_, the balmy thyme, the burgamot, and
the asters of every tint and proportion, then prevail, throwing forth
their gaudy, sunburnt petals upon the wind, until the whole meadow
seems arrayed in the royal livery of a sunset sky. Scarcely does the
summer begin to decline, and autumn's golden sunlight to stream in
misty magnificence athwart the landscape, than a thousand gorgeous
plants of its own mellow hue are nodding in stately beauty over the
plain. Yellow is the garniture of the autumnal Flora of the prairies;
and the haughty golden-rod, and all the splendid forms of the
_gentiana_, commingling with the white and crimson _eupatorium_, and
the red spire of the _liatris_, everywhere bespangle the scene; while
the trumpet-formed corolla of the _bignonia radicans_ glitters {30} in
the sunbeams, amid the luxuriant wreathing of ivy, from the tall
capitals of the isolated trees. All the _solidago_ species are in
their glory, and every variety of the _lobelia_; and the blood-red
sumach in the hollows and brakes, and the _sagittaria_, or arrow-head,
with its three-leaved calyx and its three white petals darting forth
from the recesses of the dark herbage, and all the splendid forms of
the aquatic plants, with their broad blossoms and their cool
scroll-like leaves, lend a finished richness of hue to the landscape,
which fails not well to harmonize with the rainbow glow of the distant
forest.
"----Such beauty, varying in the light
Of gorgeous nature, cannot be portrayed
By words, nor by the pencil's silent skill;
But is the property of those alone
Who have beheld it, noted it with care,
And, in their minds, recorded it with love."
What wonder, then, that, amid a scene like this, where the summer
reigned, and young autumn was beginning to anticipate its mellow
glories, the traveller should in a measure have forgotten his
vocation, and loitered lazily along his way!
_Portage des Sioux, Mo._