Soon after the date of my last Letter, written at St. Peters, having
placed my wife on board of the steamer, with a party of ladies, for
Prairie du Chien, I embarked in a light bark canoe, on my homeward
course, with only one companion, Corporal Allen, from the garrison;
a young man of considerable taste, who thought he could relish the
transient scenes of a voyage in company with a painter, having gained
the indulgence of Major Bliss, the commanding officer, with permission
to accompany me.
With stores laid in for a ten days’ voyage, and armed for any
emergency—with sketch-book and colours prepared, we shoved off and
swiftly glided away with paddles nimbly plied, resolved to see and
relish every thing curious or beautiful that fell in our way. We
lingered along, among the scenes of grandeur which presented themselves
amid the thousand bluffs, and arrived at Prairie du Chien in about
ten days, in good plight, without accident or incident of a thrilling
nature, with the exception of one instance which happened about thirty
miles below St. Peters, and on the first day of our journey. In the
after part of the day, we discovered three lodges of Sioux Indians
encamped on the bank, all hallooing and waving their blankets for us
to come in, to the shore. We had no business with them, and resolved
to keep on our course, when one of them ran into his lodge, and coming
out with his gun in his hand, levelled it at us, and gave us a charge
of buck-shot about our ears. One of them struck in my canoe, passing
through several folds of my cloak, which was folded, and lying just in
front of my knee, and several others struck so near on each side as
to spatter the water into our faces. There was no fun in this, and I
then ran my canoe to the shore as fast as possible—they all ran, men,
women, and children, to the water’s edge, meeting us with yells and
laughter as we landed. As the canoe struck the shore, I rose violently
from my seat, and throwing all the infuriated demon I could into my
face—thrusting my pistols into my belt—a half dozen bullets into my
mouth—and my double-barrelled gun in my hand—I leaped ashore and chased
the lot of them from the beach, throwing myself, by a nearer route,
between them and their wigwams, where I kept them for some time at a
stand, with my barrels presented, and threats (corroborated with looks
which they could not misunderstand) that I would annihilate the whole
of them in a minute. As the gun had been returned to the lodge, and the
man who fired it could not be identified, the rascal’s life was thereby
probably prolonged. We stood for some time in this position, and no
explanation could be made, other than that which could be read from the
lip and the brow, a language which is the same, and read alike, among
all nations. I slipped my sketch-book and pencil into my hand, and
under the muzzle of my gun, each fellow stood for his likeness, which I
made them understand, by signs, were to be sent to “Muzzabucksa” (iron
cutter), the name they gave to Major Talliafferro, their agent at St.
Peters.
This threat, and the continued vociferation of the corporal from the
canoe, that I was a “Grande Capitaine,” seemed considerably to alarm
them. I at length gradually drew myself off, but with a lingering eye
upon the sneaking rascals, who stood in sullen silence, with one eye
upon me, and the other upon the corporal; who I found had held them at
bay from the bow of his canoe, with his musket-levelled upon them—his
bayonet fixed—his cartouch box slung, with one eye in full blaze over
the barrel, and the other drawn down within two parts of an inch of the
upper corner of his mouth. At my approach, his muscles were gradually
(but somewhat reluctantly) relaxed. We seated ourselves, and quietly
dipped our paddles again on our way.
Some allowance must be made for this outrage, and many others that
could be named, that have taken place amongst that part of the Sioux
nation; they have been for many years past made drunkards, by the
solicitations of white men, and then abused, and their families also;
for which, when they are drunk (as in the present instance), they
are often ready, and disposed to retaliate and to return insult for
injuries.
We went on peaceably and pleasantly during the rest of our voyage,
having ducks, deer, and bass for our game and our food; our bed was
generally on the grass at the foot of some towering bluff, where, in
the melancholy stillness of night, we were lulled to sleep by the
liquid notes of the whip-poor-will; and after his warbling ceased,
roused by the mournful complaints of the starving wolf, or _surprised_
by the startling interrogation, “who! who! who!” by the winged monarch
of the dark.
There is a something that fills and feeds the mind of an enthusiastic
man, when he is thrown upon natural resources, amidst the rude
untouched scenes of nature, which cannot be described; and I leave the
world to imagine the feelings of pleasure with which I found myself
again out of the din of artful life, among scenes of grandeur worthy
the whole soul’s devotion, and admiration.
When the morning’s dew was shaken off, our coffee enjoyed—our light
bark again launched upon the water, and the chill of the morning
banished by the quick stroke of the paddle, and the busy chaunt of
the corporal’s boat-song, our ears and our eyes were open to the rude
scenes of romance that were about us—our light boat ran to every
ledge—dodged into every slough or “_cut-off_” to be seen—every mineral
was examined—every cave explored—and almost every bluff of grandeur
ascended to the top. These towering edifices of nature, which will
stand the admiration of thousands and tens of thousands, unchanged
and unchangeable, though grand and majestic to the eye of the passing
traveller, will be found to inspire new ideas of magnitude when
attempted to be travelled to the top. From the tops of many of them I
have sketched for the information of the world, and for the benefit
of those who travel much, I would recommend a trip to the Summit of
“Pike’s Tent” (the highest bluff on the river), 100 miles above Prairie
du Chien; to the top also of “La Montaigne qui tromps a l’eau”—the
summit of Bad Axe Mountain—and a look over Lake Pepin’s turretted
shores from the top of the bluff opposite to the “Lover’s Leap,” being
the highest on the lake, and the point from which the greater part of
its shores can be seen.
[Illustration: 248]
[Illustration: 249]
Along the shores of this beautiful lake we lingered for several days,
and our canoe was hauled a hundred times upon the pebbly beach, where
we spent hours and days, robbing it of its precious gems, which are
thrown up by the waves. We found many rich agates, carnelians, jaspers,
and porphyrys. The agates are many of them peculiarly beautiful, most
of them water-waved—their colours brilliant and beautifully striated.
“Point aux Sables” has been considered the most productive part of
the lake for these gems; but owing to the frequent landings of the
steam-boats and other craft on that point, the best specimens of them
have been picked up; and the traveller will now be best remunerated for
his trouble, by tracing the shore around into some of its coves, or on
some of its points less frequented by the footsteps of man.
The _Lover’s Leap_ (+plate+ 248), is a bold and projecting rock, of
six or seven hundred feet elevation on the East side of the lake, from
the summit of which, it is said, a beautiful Indian girl, the daughter
of a chief, threw herself off in presence of her tribe, some fifty
years ago, and dashed herself to pieces, to avoid being married to a
man whom her father had decided to be her husband, and whom she would
not marry. On our way, after we had left the beautiful shores of Lake
Pepin, we passed the magnificent bluff called “_Pike’s Tent_” (+plate+
249), and undoubtedly, the highest eminence on the river, running up in
the form of a tent; from which circumstance, and that of having first
been ascended by Lieutenant Pike, it has taken the name of Pike’s Tent,
which it will, doubtless, for ever retain.
The corporal and I run our little craft to the base of this stupendous
pyramid, and spent half a day about its sides and its pinnacle,
admiring the lovely and almost boundless landscape that lies beneath it.
To the top of this grass-covered mound I would advise every traveller
in the country, who has the leisure to do it, and sinew enough in his
leg, to stroll awhile, and enjoy what it may be difficult for him to
see elsewhere.
“_Cap au l’ail_” (Garlic Cape, +plate+ 250), about twenty miles above
Prairie du Chien is another beautiful scene—and the “Cornice Rocks”
(+plate+ 251), on the West bank, where my little bark rested two days,
till the corporal and I had taken bass from every nook and eddy about
them, where our hooks could be dipped. To the lover of fine fish, and
fine sport in fishing, I would recommend an encampment for a few days
on this picturesque ledge, where his appetite and his passion will be
soon gratified.
Besides these picturesque scenes, I made drawings also of all the
Indian villages on the way, and of many other interesting points, which
are curious in my Collection, but too numerous to introduce in this
place.
In the midst, or half-way of Lake Pepin, which is an expansion of the
river of four or five miles in width, and twenty-five miles in length,
the corporal and I hauled our canoe out upon the beach of Point aux
Sables, where we spent a couple of days, feasting on plums and fine
fish and wild fowl, and filling our pockets with agates and carnelians
we were picking up along the pebbly beach; and at last, started on
our way for the outlet of the lake, with a fair North West wind,
which wafted us along in a delightful manner, as I sat in the stern
and steered, while the corporal was “catching the breeze” in a large
umbrella, which he spread open and held in the bow. We went merrily
and exultingly on in this manner, until at length the wind increased
to anything but a gale; and the waves were foaming white, and dashing
on the shores where we could not land without our frail bark being
broken to pieces. We soon became alarmed, and saw that our only safety
was in keeping on the course that we were running at a rapid rate, and
that with our sail full set, to brace up and steady our boat on the
waves, while we kept within swimming distance of the shore, resolved
to run into the first cove, or around the first point we could find
for our protection. We kept at an equal distance from the shore—and in
this most critical condition, the wind drove us ten or fifteen miles,
without a landing-place, till we exultingly steered into the mouth of
the Chippeway river, at the outlet of the lake, where we soon found
quiet and safety; but found our canoe in a sinking condition, being
half full of water, and having three of the five of her beams or braces
broken out, with which serious disasters, a few rods more of the fuss
and confusion would have sent us to the bottom. We here laid by part
of a day, and having repaired our disasters, wended our way again
pleasantly and successfully on.
At Prairie du Chien, which is near the mouth of the Ouisconsin River,
and 600 miles above St. Louis, where we safely landed my canoe, I
found my wife enjoying the hospitality of Mrs. Judge Lockwood, who had
been a schoolmate of mine in our childhood, and is now residing with
her interesting family in that place. Under her hospitable roof we
spent a few weeks with great satisfaction, after which my wife took
steamer for Dubuque, and I took to my little bark canoe alone (having
taken leave of the corporal), which I paddled to this place, quite
leisurely—cooking my own meat, and having my own fun as I passed along.
Prairie du Chien (+plate+ 253) has been one of the earliest and
principal trading posts of the Fur Company, and they now have a
large establishment at that place; but doing far less business than
formerly, owing to the great mortality of the Indians in its vicinity,
and the destruction of the game, which has almost entirely disappeared
in these regions. The prairie is a beautiful elevation above the
river, of several miles in length, and a mile or so in width, with a
most picturesque range of grassy bluffs encompassing it in the rear.
The Government have erected there a substantial Fort, in which are
generally stationed three or four companies of men, for the purpose (as
at the Fall of St. Anthony) of keeping the peace amongst the hostile
tribes, and also of protecting the frontier inhabitants from the
attacks of the excited savages. There are on the prairie some forty
or fifty families, mostly French, and some half-breeds, whose lives
have been chiefly spent in the arduous and hazardous occupations of
trappers, and traders, and voyageurs; which has well qualified them for
the modes of dealing with Indians, where they have settled down and
stand ready to compete with one another for their shares of annuities,
&c. which are dealt out to the different tribes who concentrate at that
place, and are easily drawn from the poor Indians’ hands by whiskey and
useless gewgaws.
[Illustration: 250]
[Illustration: 251]
[Illustration: 253]
The consequence of this system is, that there is about that place,
almost one continual scene of wretchedness, and drunkenness, and
disease amongst the Indians, who come there to trade and to receive
their annuities, that disgusts and sickens the heart of every stranger
that extends his travels to it.
When I was there, Wa-be-sha’s band of the Sioux came there, and
remained several weeks to get their annuities, which, when they
received them, fell (as they always will do), far short of paying off
the account, which the Traders take good care to have standing against
them for goods furnished them on a year’s credit. However, whether
they pay off or not, they can always get whiskey enough for a grand
carouse and a brawl, which lasts for a week or two, and almost sure to
terminate the lives of some of their numbers.
At the end of one of these a few days since, after the men had enjoyed
their surfeit of whiskey, and wanted a little more amusement, and felt
disposed to indulge the weaker sex in a little recreation also; it was
announced amongst them, and through the village, that the women were
going to have a ball-play!
For this purpose the men, in their very liberal trades they were making
and filling their canoes with goods delivered to them on a year’s
credit, laid out a great quantity of ribbons and calicoes, with other
presents well adapted to the wants and desires of the women; which were
hung on a pole resting on crotches, and guarded by an old man, who was
to be judge and umpire of the play which was to take place amongst
the women, who were divided into two equal parties, and were to play
a desperate game of ball, for the valuable stakes that were hanging
before them (+plate+ 252).
In the ball-play of the women, they have two balls attached to the ends
of a string, about a foot and a half long; and each woman has a short
stick in each hand, on which she catches the string with the two balls,
and throws them, endeavouring to force them over the goal of her own
party. The men are more than half drunk, when they feel liberal enough
to indulge the women in such an amusement; and take infinite pleasure
in rolling about on the ground and laughing to excess, whilst the women
are tumbling about in all attitudes, and scuffling for the ball. The
game of “_hunt the slipper_,” even, loses its zest after witnessing one
of these, which sometimes last for hours together; and often exhibits
the hottest contest for the balls, exactly over the heads of the men;
who, half from whiskey, and half from inclination, are laying in groups
and flat upon the ground.
Prairie du Chien is the concentrating place of the Winnebagoes and
Menomonies, who inhabit the waters of the Ouisconsin and Fox Rivers,
and the chief part of the country lying East of the Mississippi, and
West of Green Bay.
The _Winnebagoes_ are the remnant of a once powerful and warlike tribe,
but are now left in a country where they have neither beasts or men
to war with; and are in a most miserable and impoverished condition.
The numbers of this tribe do not exceed four thousand; and the most of
them have sold even their guns and ammunition for whiskey. Like the
Sioux and Menomonies that come in to this post, they have several times
suffered severely with the small-pox, which has in fact destroyed the
greater proportion of them.
In +plate+ 254, will be seen the portrait of an old chief, who died
a few years since; and who was for many years the head chief of
the tribe, by the name of _Naw-kaw_ (wood). This man has been much
distinguished in his time, for his eloquence; and he desired me to
paint him in the attitude of an orator, addressing his people.
+Plate+ 255, is a distinguished man of the Winnebago tribe, by the name
of _Wah-chee-hahs-ka_ (the man who puts all out of doors), commonly
called the “boxer.” The largest man of the tribe, with rattlesnakes’
skins on his arms, and his war-club in his hand.[20]
In +plate+ 256 is seen a warrior, _Kaw-kaw-ne-choo-a_; and in +plate+
257 another, Wa-kon-zee-kaw (the snake), both at full length; and fair
specimens of the tribe, who are generally a rather short and thick-set,
square shouldered set of men, of great strength, and of decided
character as brave and desperate in war.
Besides the chief and warriors above-named, I painted the portraits of
_Won-de-tow-a_ (the wonder), _Wa-kon-chash-kaw_ (he who comes on the
thunder), _Nau-naw-pay-ee_ (the soldier), _Span-e-o-nee-kaw_
(the Spaniard), _Hoo-wan-ee-kaw_ (the little elk), _No-ah-choo-she-kaw_
(he who breaks the bushes), and _Naugh-haigh-ke-kaw_ (he who moistens
the wood), all distinguished men of the tribe; and all at full length,
as they will be seen standing in my Collection.
[Illustration: 252]
[Illustration: 255]
[Illustration: 254]
[Illustration: 256]
[Illustration: 257]
[Illustration: 258 259]
[Illustration: 260 261]
+The MENOMONIES,+
Like the Winnebagoes, are the remnant of a much more numerous and
independent tribe, but have been reduced and enervated by the use of
whiskey and the ravages of the small-pox, and number at this time,
something like three thousand, living chiefly on the banks of Fox
River, and the Western shore of Green Bay. They visit Prairie du Chien,
where their annuities are paid them; and they indulge in the _bane_,
like the tribes that I have mentioned.
Of this tribe, I have painted quite a number of their leading
characters, and at the head of them all, _Mah-kee-me-teuv_ (the grizzly
bear, +plate+ 258), with a handsome pipe in his hand; and by the side
of him his wife _Me-cheet-e-neuh_ (the wounded bear’s shoulder, +plate+
259). Both of these have died since their portraits were painted. This
dignified chief led a delegation of fifteen of his people to Washington
City, some years since, and there commanded great respect for his
eloquence, and dignity of deportment.
In +plate+ 260 is the portrait of _Chee-me-na-na-quet_ (the great
cloud), son of the chief—an ill-natured and insolent fellow who has
since been killed for some of his murderous deeds. +Plate+ 261, is the
portrait of a fine boy, whose name is _Tcha-kauks-o-ko-maugh_ (the
great chief). This tribe living out of the reach of buffaloes, cover
themselves with blankets, instead of robes, and wear a profusion of
beads and wampum, and other trinkets.
In +plate+ 262, is_Coo-coo-coo_ (the owl), a very aged and emaciated
chief, whom I painted at Green Bay, in Fort Howard. He had been a
distinguished man, but now in his dotage, being more than 100 years
old—and a great pet of the surgeon and officers of the post.
In +plate+ 263, are two Menominee youths at full length, in beautiful
dresses, whose names I did not get—one with his war-club in his hand,
and the other blowing on his “courting flute,” which I have before
described.
In addition to these I have painted of this tribe, and placed in
my Collection, the portraits of _Ko-man-i-kin-o-shaw_ (the little
whale); _Sha-wa-no_ (the South); _Mash-kee-wet_ (the thought);
_Pah-shee-nau-shaw_ (————); _Au-nah-quet-o-hau-pay-o_ (the one sitting
in the clouds); _Auh-ka-na-paw-wah_ (earth standing); _Ko-man-ni-kin_
(the big wave); _O-ho-pa-sha_ (the small whoop); _Au-wah-shew-kew_ (the
female bear); and _Chesh-ko-tong_ (he who sings the war-song).
It will be seen by the reader, from the above facts, that I have been
laying up much curious and valuable record of people and customs in
these regions; and it will be seen at the same time, from the brief
manner in which I have treated of these semi-civilized tribes, which
every body can see, and thousands have seen, that my enthusiasm, as
I have before explained, has led me more into minuteness and detail
amongst those tribes which are living in their unchanged native modes,
whose customs I have been ambitious to preserve for ages to come,
before the changes that civilized acquaintance will soon work upon them.
The materials which I am daily gathering, however, are interesting;
and I may on a future occasion use them—but in an epistle of this
kind, there is not room for the incidents of a long voyage, or for a
minute description of the country and the people in it; so, what I
have said must suffice for the present. I lingered along the shores
of this magnificent river then, in my fragile bark, to Prairie du
Chien—Dubuque—Galena, to Rock Island, and lastly to this place.
During such a Tour between the almost endless banks, carpeted with
green, with one of the richest countries in the world, extending back
in every direction, the mind of a contemplative man is continually
building for posterity splendid seats, cities, towers and villas, which
a few years of rolling time will bring about, with new institutions,
new states, and almost empires; for it would seem that this vast region
of rich soil and green fields, was almost enough for a world of itself.
I hauled my canoe out of the water at Dubuque, where I joined my wife
again in the society of kind and hospitable friends, and found myself
amply repaid for a couple of weeks’ time spent in the examination
of the extensive lead mines; walking and creeping through caverns,
some eighty or one hundred feet below the earth’s surface, decked in
nature’s pure livery of stalactites and spar—with walls, and sometimes
ceilings, of glistening massive lead. And I hold yet (and ever shall)
in my mind, without loss of a fraction of feature or expression, the
image of one of my companions, and the scene that at one time was
about him. His name is Jeffries. We were in “Lockwood’s Cave,” my wife
and another lady were behind, and he advancing before me; _his_ ribs,
more elastic, than mine, gave him entrance through a crevice, into a
chamber yet unexplored; he dared the pool, for there was one of icy
water, and translucent as the air itself. We stood luckless spectators,
to gaze and envy, while he advanced. The lighted flambeau in his hand
brought the splendid furniture of this tesselated palace into view;
the surface of the jostled pool laved his sides as he advanced, and
the rich stalagmites that grew up from the bottom reflected a golden
light through the water, while the walls and ceiling were hung with
stalactites which glittered like diamonds.
In this wise he stood in silent gaze, in awe and admiration of the
hidden works of Nature; his figure, as high as the surface of the
water, was magnified into a giant—and his head and shoulders not unfit
for a cyclop. In fact, he was a perfect figure of Vulcan. The water in
which he stood was a lake of liquid fire—he held a huge hammer in
his right hand, and a flaming thunderbolt in his left, which he had
just forged for Jupiter. There was but one thing wanting, it was the
“sound of the hammer!” which was soon given in peals upon the beautiful
pendents of stalactite and spar, which sent back and through the
cavern, the hollow tones of thunder.
[Illustration: 262]
[Illustration: 263]
A visit of a few days to Dubuque will be worth the while of every
traveller; and for the speculator and man of enterprize, it affords the
finest field now open in our country. It is a small town of 200 houses,
built entirely within the last two years, on one of the most delightful
sites on the river, and in the heart of the richest and most productive
parts of the mining region; having this advantage over most other
mining countries, that immediately over the richest (and in fact all)
of the lead mines; the land on the surface produces the finest corn,
and all other vegetables that may be put into it. This is certainly the
richest section of country on the Continent, and those who live a few
years to witness the result, will be ready to sanction my assertion,
that it is to be the _mint of our country_.
From Dubuque, I descended the river on a steamer, with my bark canoe
laid on its deck, and my wife was my companion, to Camp Des Moines,
from whence I am now writing.
After arriving at this place, which is the wintering post of Colonel
Kearney, with his three companies of dragoons, I seated my wife and two
gentlemen of my intimate acquaintance, in my bark canoe, and paddled
them through the Des Moine’s Rapids, a distance of fourteen miles,
which we performed in a very short time; and at the foot of the Rapids,
placed my wife on the steamer for St. Louis, in company with friends,
when I had some weeks to return on my track, and revert back again to
the wild and romantic life that I occasionally love to lead. I returned
to Camp Des Moines, and in a few days joined General Street, the Indian
Agent, in a Tour to Ke-o-kuck’s village of Sacs and Foxes.
Colonel Kearney gave us a corporal’s command of eight men, with
horses, &c. for the journey; and we reached the village in two days’
travel, about sixty miles up the Des Moines. The whole country that we
passed over was like a garden, wanting only cultivation, being mostly
prairie, and we found their village beautifully situated on a large
prairie, on the bank of the Des Moines River. They seemed to be well
supplied with the necessaries of life, and with some of its luxuries.
I found Ke-o-kuck to be a chief of fine and portly figure, with a good
countenance, and great dignity and grace in his manners.
General Street had some documents from Washington, to read to him,
which he and his chiefs listened to with great patience; after which
he placed before us good brandy and good wine, and invited us to
drink, and to lodge with him; he then called up five of his _runners_
or _criers_, communicated to them in a low, but emphatic tone, the
substance of the talk from the agent, and of the letters read to him,
and they started at full gallop— one of them proclaiming it through
his village, and the others sent express to the other villages,
comprising the whole nation. Ke-o-kuck came in with us, with about
twenty of his principal men—he brought in all his costly wardrobe, that
I might select for his portrait such as suited me best; but at once
named (of his own accord) the one that was purely Indian. In that he
paraded for several days, and in it I painted him at full length. He is
a man of a great deal of pride, and makes truly a splendid appearance
on his black horse. He owns the finest horse in the country, and is
excessively vain of his appearance when mounted, and arrayed, himself
and horse, in all their gear and trappings. He expressed a wish to see
himself represented on horseback, and I painted him in that light. He
rode and nettled his prancing steed in front of my door, until its
sides were in a gore of blood. I succeeded to _his_ satisfaction, and
his vanity is increased, no doubt, by seeing himself immortalized
in that way. After finishing him, I painted his favourite wife (the
favoured one of seven), his favourite boy, and eight or ten of his
principal men and women; after which, he and all his men shook hands
with me, wishing me well, and leaving, as tokens of regard, the most
valued article of his dress, and a beautiful string of wampum, which he
took from his wife’s neck.
They then departed for their village in good spirits, to prepare for
their _fall hunt_.
Of this interesting interview and its incidents, and of these people,
I shall soon give the reader a further account, and therefore close my
note-book for the present. Adieu.
[20] This man died of the small-pox the next summer after this
portrait was painted. Whilst the small-pox was raging so bad at
the Prairie, he took the disease, and in a rage plunged into the
river, and swam across to the island where he dragged his body out
upon the beach, and there died, and his bones were picked by dogs,
without any friend to give him burial.
LETTER—No. 53.