The last Letter was written from my tent, and out upon the wild
prairies, when I was shaken and _terrified_ by a burning fever, with
home and my dear wife and little one, two thousand miles ahead of me,
whom I was despairing of ever embracing again. I am now scarcely better
off, except that I am in comfortable quarters, with kind attendance,
and friends about me. I am yet sick and very feeble, having been for
several weeks upon my back since I was brought in from the prairies.
I am slowly recovering, and for the first time since I wrote from the
Canadian, able to use my pen or my brush.
We drew off from that slaughtering ground a few days after my last
Letter was written, with a great number sick carried upon litters—with
horses giving out and dying by the way, which much impeded our progress
over the long and tedious route that laid between us and Fort Gibson.
Fifteen days, however, of constant toil and fatigue brought us here,
but in a most crippled condition. Many of the sick were left by the
way with attendants to take care of them, others were buried from
their litters on which they breathed their last while travelling, and
many others were brought in, to this place, merely to die and get the
privilege of a decent burial.
Since the very day of our start into that country, the men have been
constantly falling sick, and on their return, of those who are alive,
there are not well ones enough to take care of the sick. Many are
yet left out upon the prairies, and of those that have been brought
in, and quartered in the hospital, with the soldiers of the infantry
regiment stationed here, four or five are buried daily; and as an equal
number from the 9th regiment are falling by the same disease, I have
the mournful sound of “Roslin Castle” with muffled drums, passing six
or eight times a-day under my window, to the burying-ground; which is
but a little distance in front of my room, where I can lay in my bed
and see every poor fellow lowered down into his silent and peaceful
habitation. During the day before yesterday, no less than eight solemn
processions visited that insatiable ground, and amongst them was
carried the corpse of my intimate and much-loved friend Lieutenant
West, who was aid-de-camp to General Leavenworth, on this disastrous
campaign, and who has left in this place, a worthy and distracted
widow, with her little ones to mourn for his untimely end. On the
same day was buried also the Prussian Botanist, a most excellent and
scientific gentleman, who had obtained an order from the Secretary at
War to accompany the expedition for scientific purposes. He had at St.
Louis, purchased a very comfortable dearborn waggon, and a snug span
of little horses to convey himself and his servant with his collection
of plants, over the prairies. In this he travelled in company with the
regiment from St. Louis to Fort Gibson some five or six hundred miles
and from that to the False Washita, and the Cross Timbers and back
again. In this Tour he had made an immense, and no doubt, very valuable
collection of plants, and at this place had been for some weeks
indefatigably engaged in changing and drying them, and at last, fell
a victim to the disease of the country, which seemed to have made an
easy conquest of him, from the very feeble and enervated state he was
evidently in, that of pulmonary consumption. This fine, gentlemanly and
urbane, excellent man, to whom I became very much attached, was lodged
in a room adjoining to mine, where he died, as he had lived, peaceably
and smiling, and that when nobody knew that his life was in immediate
danger. The surgeon who was attending me, (Dr. Wright,) was sitting on
my bedside in his morning-call at my room, when a negro boy, who alone
had been left in the room with him, came into my apartment and said Mr.
Beyrich was dying—we instantly stepped into his room and found him,
not in the _agonies_ of death, but quietly breathing his last, without
a word or a struggle, as he had laid himself upon his bed with his
clothes and his boots on. In this way perished this worthy man, who had
no one here of kindred friends to drop tears for him; and on the day
previous to his misfortune, died also, and much in the same way, his
devoted and faithful servant, a young man, a native of Germany. Their
bodies were buried by the side of each other, and a general feeling of
deep grief was manifested by the officers and citizens of the post,
in the respect that was paid to their remains in the appropriate and
decent committal of them to the grave.
After leaving the head waters of the Canadian, my illness continually
increased, and losing strength every day, I soon got so reduced that
I was necessarily lifted on to and off from, my horse; and at last,
so that I could not ride at all. I was then put into a baggage-waggon
which was going back empty, except with several soldiers sick, and
in this condition rode eight days, most of the time in a delirious
state, lying on the hard planks of the waggon, and made still harder by
the jarring and jolting, until the skin from my elbows and knees was
literally worn through, and I almost “_worn out_;” when we at length
reached this post, and I was taken to a bed, in comfortable quarters,
where I have had the skilful attendance of my friend and old schoolmate
Dr. Wright, under whose hands, thank God, I have been restored, and am
now daily recovering my flesh and usual strength.
The experiment has thus been made, of sending an army of men from the
North, into this Southern and warm climate, in the hottest months of
the year, of July and August; and from this sad experiment I am sure a
secret will be learned that will be of value on future occasions.
Of the 450 fine fellows who started from this place four months since,
about one-third have already died, and I believe many more there
are whose fates are sealed, and will yet fall victims to the deadly
diseases contracted in that fatal country. About this post it seems to
be almost equally unhealthy, and generally so during this season, all
over this region, which is probably owing to an unusual drought which
has been visited on the country, and unknown heretofore to the oldest
inhabitants.
Since we came in from the prairies, and the sickness has a little
abated, we have had a bustling time with the Indians at this place.
Colonel Dodge sent _runners_ to the chiefs of all the contiguous tribes
of Indians, with an invitation to meet the Pawnees, &c. in council, at
this place. Seven or eight tribes flocked to us, in great numbers on
the first day of the month, when the council commenced; it continued
for several days, and gave these semi-civilized sons of the forest a
fair opportunity of shaking the hands of their wild and untamed red
brethren of the West—of embracing them in their arms, with expressions
of friendship, and of smoking the calumet together, as the solemn
pledge of lasting peace and friendship.
Colonel Dodge, Major Armstrong (the Indian agent), and General Stokes
(the Indian commissioner), presided at this council, and I cannot name
a scene more interesting and entertaining than it was; where, for
several days in succession, free vent was given to the feelings of
men _civilized_, _half-civilized_, and _wild_; where the three stages
of man were fearlessly asserting their rights, their happiness, and
friendship for each other. The vain orations of the half-polished (and
half-breed) Cherokees and Choctaws, with all their finery and art,
found their match in the brief and jarring gutturals of the wild and
naked man.
After the council had adjourned, and the fumes of the peace-making
calumet had vanished away, and Colonel Dodge had made them additional
presents, they soon made preparations for their departure, and on
the next day started, with an escort of dragoons, for their own
country. This movement is much to be regretted; for it would have been
exceedingly gratifying to the people of the East to have seen so wild a
group, and it would have been of great service to them to have visited
Washington—a journey, though, which they could not be prevailed upon to
make.
We brought with us to this place, three of the principal chiefs of
the Pawnees, fifteen Kioways, one Camanchee, and one Wi-co chief. The
group was undoubtedly one of the most interesting that ever visited our
frontier; and, I have taken the utmost pains in painting the portraits
of all of them, as well as seven of the Camanchee chiefs, who came part
of the way with us, and turned back. These portraits, together with
other paintings which I have made, descriptive of their manners and
customs—views of their villages—landscapes of the country, &c., will
soon be laid before the amateurs of the East, and, I trust, will be
found to be very interesting.
Although the achievement has been a handsome one, of bringing these
unknown people to an acquaintance, and a general peace; and at first
sight would appear to be of great benefit to them—yet I have my strong
doubts, whether it will better their condition, unless with the
exercised aid of the strong arm of Government, they can be protected in
the rights which by nature, they are entitled to.
There is already in this place a company of eighty men fitted out, who
are to start to-morrow, to overtake these Indians a few miles from
this place, and accompany them home, with a large stock of goods, with
traps for catching beavers, &c., calculating to build a trading-house
amongst them, where they will amass, at once, an immense fortune, being
the first traders and trappers that have ever been in that part of the
country.
I have travelled too much among Indian tribes, and seen too much, not
to know the evil consequences of such a system. Goods are sold at
such exorbitant prices, that the Indian gets a mere shadow for his
peltries, &c. The Indians see no white people but traders and sellers
of whiskey; and of course, judge us all by them—they consequently
hold us, and always will, in contempt; as inferior to themselves, as
they have reason to do—and they neither fear nor respect us. When,
on the contrary, if the Government would promptly prohibit such
establishments, and invite these Indians to our frontier posts, they
would bring in their furs, their robes, horses, mules, &c., to this
place, where there is a good market for them all—where they would
get the full value of their property—where there are several stores
of goods—where there is an honourable competition, and where they
would get four or five times as much for their articles of trade,
as they would get from a trader in the village, out of the reach of
competition, and out of sight of the civilized world.
At the same time, as they would be continually coming where they
would see good and polished society, they would be gradually adopting
our modes of living—introducing to their country our vegetables,
our domestic animals, poultry, &c., and at length, our arts and
manufactures; they would see and estimate our military strength, and
advantages, and would be led to fear and respect us. In short, it would
undoubtedly be the quickest and surest way to a general acquaintance—to
friendship and peace, and at last to civilization. If there is a law in
existence for such protection of the Indian tribes, which may have been
waived in the case of those nations with which we have long traded, it
is a great pity that it should not be rigidly enforced in this new and
important acquaintance, which we have just made with thirty or forty
thousand strangers to the civilized world; yet (as we have learned
from their unaffected hospitality when in their villages), with hearts
of human mould, _susceptible_ of all the noble feelings belonging to
civilized man.
This acquaintance has cost the United States a vast sum of money, as
well as the lives of several valuable and esteemed officers and more
than 100 of the dragoons; and for the honour of the American name, I
think we ought, in forming an acquaintance with these numerous tribes,
to adopt and _enforce_ some different system from that which has been
generally practiced on and beyond our frontiers heretofore.
What the regiment of dragoons has suffered from sickness since they
started on their summer’s campaign is unexampled in this country, and
almost incredible.—When we started from this place, ten or fifteen were
sent back the first day, too sick to proceed; and so afterwards our
numbers were daily diminished, and at the distance of 200 miles from
this place we could muster, out of the whole regiment, but 250 men who
were able to proceed, with which little band, and that again reduced
some sixty or seventy by sickness, we pushed on, and accomplished
all that was done. The beautiful and pictured scenes which we passed
over had an alluring charm on their surface, but (as it would seem)
a lurking poison within, that spread a gloom about our encampment
whenever we pitched it.
We sometimes rode day after day, without a tree to shade us from the
burning rays of a tropical sun, or a breath of wind to regale us or
cheer our hearts—and with mouths continually parched with thirst, we
dipped our drink from stagnant pools that were heated by the sun, and
kept in fermentation by the wallowing herds of buffaloes that resort
to them. In this way we dragged on, sometimes passing picturesque and
broken country, with fine springs and streams, affording us the luxury
of a refreshing shade and a cool draught of water.
Thus was dragged through and completed this most disastrous campaign;
and to Colonel Dodge and Colonel Kearney, who so indefatigably led and
encouraged their men through it, too much praise cannot be awarded.
During my illness while I have been at this post, my friend Joe has
been almost constantly by my bedside; evincing (as he did when we were
creeping over the vast prairies) the most sincere and intense anxiety
for my recovery; whilst he has administered, like a brother, every aid
and every comfort that lay in his power to bring. Such tried friendship
as this, I shall ever recollect; and it will long hence and often, lead
my mind back to retrace, at least, the first part of our campaign,
which was full pleasant; and many of its incidents have formed pleasing
impressions on my memory, which I would preserve to the end of my life.
When we started, we were fresh and ardent for the incidents that
were before us—our little packhorse carried our bedding and culinary
articles; amongst which we had a coffee-pot and a frying-pan—coffee in
good store, and sugar—and wherever we spread our bear-skin, and kindled
our fire in the grass, we were sure to take by ourselves, a delightful
repast, and a refreshing sleep. During the march, as we were subject to
no military subordination, we galloped about wherever we were disposed,
popping away at whatever we chose to spend ammunition upon—and running
our noses into every wild nook and crevice, as we saw fit. In this way
we travelled happily, until our coffee was gone, and our bread; and
even then we were happy upon meat alone, until at last each one in his
turn, like every other moving thing about us, both man and beast, were
vomiting and fainting, under the poisonous influence of some latent
enemy, that was floating in the air, and threatening our destruction.
Then came the “tug of war,” and instead of catering for our amusements,
every one seemed desperately studying the means that were to support
him on his feet, and bring him safe home again to the bosoms of his
friends. In our start, our feelings were buoyant and light, and we had
the luxuries of life—the green prairies, spotted with wild flowers, and
the clear blue sky, were an earthly paradise to us, until fatigue and
disease, and at last despair, made them tiresome and painful to our
jaundiced eyes.
On our way, and while we were in good heart, my friend Joe and I had
picked up many minerals and fossils of an interesting nature, which we
put in our portmanteaux and carried for weeks, with much pains, and
some _pain_ also, until the time when our ardour cooled and our spirits
lagged, and then we discharged and threw them away; and sometimes we
came across specimens again, still more wonderful, which we put in
their place, and lugged along till we were tired of _them_, and their
weight, and we discharged them as before; so that from our eager desire
to procure, we lugged many pounds weight of stones, shells, &c. nearly
the whole way, and were glad that their mother Earth should receive
them again at our hands, which was done long before we got back.
One of the most curious places we met in all our route, was a
mountain ridge of fossil shells, from which a great number of the
above-mentioned specimens were taken. During our second day’s march
from the mouth of the False Washita, we were astonished to find
ourselves travelling over a bed of clam and oyster shells, which were
all in a complete state of petrifaction. This ridge, which seemed to
run from N.E. to S.W. was several hundred feet high, and varying from a
quarter to half a mile in breadth, seemed to be composed of nothing but
a concretion of shells, which, on the surface, exposed to the weather
for the depth of eight or ten inches, were entirely separated from the
cementing material which had held them together, and were lying on the
surface, sometimes for acres together, without a particle of soil or
grass upon them; with the colour, shapes and appearance exactly, of the
natural shells, lying loosely together, into which our horses’ feet
were sinking at every step, above their fetterlocks. These I consider
the most extraordinary petrifactions I ever beheld. In any way they
could be seen, individually or in the mass together, they seemed to
be nothing but the _pure shells themselves_, both in colour and in
shape. In many instances we picked them up entire, never having been
opened; and taking our knives out, and splitting them open as we would
an oyster, the fish was seen petrified in perfect form, and by dipping
it into water, it shewed all the colours and freshness of an oyster
just opened and laid on a plate to be eaten. Joe and I had carefully
tied up many of these, with which we felt quite sure we could deceive
our oyster-eating friends when we got back to the East; yet, like many
other things we collected, they shared the fate that I have mentioned,
without our bringing home one of them, though we brought many of them
several hundreds of miles, and at last threw them away. This remarkable
ridge is in some parts covered with grass, but generally with mere
scattering bunches, for miles together, partially covering this compact
mass of shells, forming (in my opinion) one of the greatest geological
curiosities now to be seen in this country, as it lies evidently some
thousands of feet above the level of the ocean, and seven or eight
hundred miles from the nearest point on the sea-coast.
In another section of the country, lying between Fort Gibson and the
Washita, we passed over a ridge for several miles, running parallel to
this, where much of the way there was no earth or grass under foot, but
our horses were travelling on a solid rock, which had on its surface
a reddish or oxidized appearance; and on getting from my horse and
striking it with my hatchet, I found it to contain sixty or eighty per
cent of solid iron, which produced a ringing noise, and a rebounding of
the hatchet, as if it were struck upon an anvil.
In other parts, and farther West, between the Camanchee village and the
Canadian, we passed over a similar surface for many miles denuded, with
the exception of here and there little bunches of grass and wild sage,
a level and exposed surface of solid gypsum, of a dark grey colour: and
through it, occasionally, as far as the eye could discover, to the East
and the West streaks of three and five inches wide of snowy gypsum,
which was literally as white as the drifted snow.
Of saltpetre and salt, there are also endless supplies; so it will
be seen that the mineral resources of this wilderness country are
inexhaustible and rich, and that the idle savage who never converts
them to his use, must soon yield them to the occupation of enlightened
and cultivating man.
In the vicinity of this post there are an immense number of Indians,
most of whom have been removed to their present locations by the
Government, from their Eastern original positions, within a few
years past; and previous to my starting with the dragoons, I had two
months at my leisure in this section of the country, which I used
in travelling about with my canvass and note-book, and visiting all
of them in their villages. I have made many paintings amongst them,
and have a curious note-book to open at a future day, for which the
reader may be prepared. The tribes whom I thus visited, and of whom my
note-book will yet speak, are the _Cherokees_, _Choctaws_, _Creeks_,
_Seminoles_, _Chickasaws_, _Quapaws_, _Senecas_, _Delawares_, and
several others, whose customs are interesting, and whose history, from
their proximity to, and dealings with the civilized community, is one
of great interest, and some importance, to the enlightened world.
Adieu.
LETTER—No. 46.