Independence Rock. This was the incident of the capture of Hastings and
Lovejoy by the Sioux Indians. At this point, a noted rock, or high
ledge, with a perpendicular front, about the space of a mile (F. X. M.)
from the Sweetwater River, the immigrant train was delayed in order to
bury a man, one of a company of Germans, who, in drawing his gun from a
wagon accidentally caused the discharge of the piece with the result
that he was fatally shot in the groin.
Taking advantage of this delay, Matthieu and his comrades went buffalo
hunting. From the actions of the buffaloes that were at length
discovered, he was suspicious that there were Indians in the
neighborhood. The buffalo herds were constantly in motion, as was the
case when the Indians were stalking them. This, however, caused him no
uneasiness, and it was not until two o’clock next morning that he
returned to the train.
The journey was resumed about daybreak, but sometime in the forenoon it
began to be passed around that Lovejoy and Captain Hastings were
missing; and this caused anxiety. Matthieu suspected Indians and scanned
the plains, now ablaze to the distant horizon in the summer sunshine. At
length he caught far in the distance, a distinct glance of light. This
was thrown, as he surmised, from one of the little zinc-framed
looking-glasses that the Indian braves frequently wore attached around
their necks. Waiting for no further sign, he hastened to the train,
telling the immigrants to halt and get ready, as the Indians would soon
be upon them. To them this was rather mystifying, as the young Frenchman
took no trouble to explain how he knew this. But upon his advice the
wagons were halted, and everything was placed in readiness to receive
the Indians, who might be hostile. In the course of a few hours a great
band of Sioux appeared in sight, developing out of the prairie, and
galloping in wild fashion upon their ponies—or in large part running on
foot. They numbered about five hundred and were in full war dress and
paint. Lovejoy and Hastings were among them, being held as captives and
looking very much crestfallen. They had delayed, as it seems, in boyish
spirit, to inscribe their names among others on the face of Independence
Rock; and having just completed their task, had turned to go only to
find themselves in the embrace of some very large Indians.
Matthieu, however, who knew personally some of the chiefs, soon saw that
they were good natured, as they now moved around the train, and were
only wishing to drive a good bargain to let their captives go. They were
a war party and wanted ammunition. When this was made known, the men of
the train exclaimed “What! shall we give them ammunition to shoot us
with?” Matthieu, however, advised giving it. “They have enough
ammunition already,” he said, “to shoot us. They do not wish to fight
us, but only desire supplies for fighting other Indians.” Accordingly,
the ammunition was given them, along with other things, and the captives
were released. This, however, was not the last of Indians. The next day
a band, or rather a host, of about five or six thousand (F. X. M.) of
the Blackfoot Sioux, under a great war chief, appeared. By this immense
multitude, the train was compelled to halt, and to be inspected by band
after band of the curious savages. The Indians being in such
overwhelming force, were very free in their ways. They were especially
curious to look at the women of the train. Mr. Matthieu relates the
following amusing incident: “The family of Mr. Smith was especially
annoyed by the curious braves, who came continually to their tent, and
pulling the flaps apart, gazed in silent admiration upon his wife and
daughters, or spoke to one another in their own language.” By this
behavior Mr. Smith, who was of a very irascible temper, was so much
annoyed that he came at length to Matthieu, asking him to send them off,
as he could do nothing with them. When Matthieu arrived and discovered
what it was the Indians wanted, and the thoroughly irate Mr. Smith
desired to know, the Frenchman said: “You must be very quiet; you must
make no commotion.” Mr. Smith agreed. “I am almost afraid to tell you,”
continued Matthieu, “you will not like it.” Mr. Smith insisted. “They
wish to buy one of your daughters to present to their great chief,” said
Mr. Matthieu. At this Mr. Smith sprang to his feet in great excitement,
ready to drive the intruders away by force. “Softly, softly,” said
Matthieu. “You will have the whole band down upon us.” Then to the
Indians he explained how their white brother regretted his inability to
meet their wishes; but according to the customs of his people, it was
impossible to sell her. When satisfied entirely with this information,
the braves retired. However, the fondness of the Indians to see and even
possess the white women, was a real source of danger, with which the
immigrant parties had to reckon. It was not simply an annoyance. It was
apprehended by some that American families could never cross the plains
safely. The Indians, it was said, would seize their women at all
hazards. That they did not do so, but respected the white man’s customs,
even when, as in this case, they were in greatly superior numbers, shows
they had a certain native morality, often not found among the whites.
This great band of Indians also could hardly be made to believe that the
immigrant train had no liquors, and begged insistently for the
firewater. Fitzpatrick, the pilot, both with this band and that at
Independence Rock, refused to be made known, not wishing to implicate
himself as a leader of white people through their country; and remarked
that all the prairie was home to him, and he could drop off anywhere.
Matthieu, therefore, having learned the custom of the Sioux, and knowing
some of them personally, was able to help the immigrants, and to greatly
reduce the liability of trouble. “I actually believe,” he says, “that
they might not have got through without me.” These Sioux, being of the
Blackfoot division of the nation, were at this juncture on a great
expedition to cross the Rocky Mountains and attack the Snake Indians.
At Fort Hall, the exact date of reaching which is not remembered by Mr.
Matthieu, the immigrants delayed, some for a shorter, others a longer
time. The object was to change from their wagons to pack saddles. Mr.
Matthieu does not recollect that the Hudson’s Bay commandant there
offered to purchase any wagons, and thinks this improbable. “The
Hudson’s Bay Company had no use for any wagons,” he observes.
The commandant, Grant, is well remembered as very large and fine looking
“as big a man as Dr. John McLoughlin”—which is as grand a comparison as
could be made by a McLoughlin admirer. Grant assured the immigrants that
it was impossible for wagons to cross the Blue Mountains into Oregon.
This, Mr. Matthieu believes, was said because he thought it true, and he
was simply representing what was generally understood as the fact. Mr.
Matthieu remarks, however, “we all know very well that the Hudson’s Bay
Company was not favorable to immigration to Oregon;” and, though only a
young man at the time, he understood that the British expected to hold
the Columbia River as their boundary line. As to bringing the wagons on
to the Columbia River, he says that this could have been done, as wood
and water and the grass were in most places abundant, and though in some
places the trail was very difficult, it was not impossible to American
teamsters.
He and his comrades remained about eight days at Fort Hall, and then
came on with the Hudson’s Bay express by the horse trail, crossing the
Blue Mountains, and descending upon the valley of the Umatilla, and then
going by Whitman’s farm at Waiilatpu to old Fort Walla Walla. At
Waiilatpu he remained fifteen days waiting for the other immigrants to
come in; as the trip from Fort Hall to Whitman’s was made in small
parties, or even by families, as they were able, the later ones
following the tracks of the earlier. There was here no danger of
Indians, and the semi-military organization with which they started was
entirely abandoned.
With Doctor Whitman and his place, Mr. Matthieu was very favorably
impressed. The farm was neat and well cultivated, having a large garden,
a field of grain and a small grist mill. Doctor Whitman himself he
describes as “a very nice man,” of unbounded hospitality. “His garden
and grist mill he threw open” to their use, and for what they had need
of “he would not take a cent.” In person he recalls Whitman as not very
tall, rather slender in build, and of strongly Yankee style. His hair
was then dark. Though very favorably impressed, however, with Whitman,
the Yankee missionary bore, in Matthieu’s estimation, no comparison with
Doctor McLoughlin, who was his beau ideal of the natural-born leader of
men.
In this connection Mr. Matthieu states that he had the following
incident directly from some employees of the Hudson’s Bay Company at
Vancouver, which illustrates Doctor McLoughlin’s disposition toward
Whitman. In 1841 the Cayuse Indians formed the intention of killing
Doctor Whitman. But they feared the punishment that Doctor McLoughlin
would visit upon them, if he disapproved the act. They devised the plan,
therefore, of discovering his feeling, as if by accident. A number of
the leaders were sent to Fort Vancouver, and there stationing themselves
by the bank of the river, they began to talk to one another of
destroying Whitman. Doctor McLoughlin was passing and they were
purposely overheard by him. Instantly confronting the Cayuses the old
Doctor raised his great cane and cried out in a terrific voice, “Who
says you shall kill Whitman?” and threatened condign punishment if such
a massacre should take place. The Indians scattered and immediately gave
up their evil plan.
Before leaving Mr. Matthieu’s account of his experiences on the plains,
perhaps the following story may be told as throwing a side light upon
the character and ways of some of the people who crossed. It is in
regard to an Irishman called Pat, who was with the party but had no
outfit and no money, and was little better than a camp follower. He
obtained his day’s provisions by going from camp to camp, or mess to
mess, asking for anything that might be put into his pot, which he then
boiled over the fire making a sort of soup. Once while he was thus
cooking he had the misfortune to drop his pipe into the savory mess,
which turned it so much against his stomach that he would not eat it.
“Give it to B.,” suggested a bystander, “he will eat anything.” B. was
another camp-follower, less-liked than Pat. B. enjoyed his meal, but
afterwards regretted his precipitancy. Pat always endeavored to return
the courtesies of his patrons by doing little favors around the camps,
especially in helping the women about their wood and fires, and became
rather a favorite. Reaching Oregon, and finally going to California, he
prospered and became a wealthy man.
The trip over the Cascade Mountains was the most difficult of any part
of the journey, and involved the most suffering. The route was by the
old Indian trail at the base of Mount Hood, on the north side. A
snow-storm was encountered here, and by this fourteen of the horses were
stampeded and took the back trail for The Dalles, where there was an
abundance of grass. Matthieu, however, managed to keep himself
comfortable during the storm by kindling an immense fire in the timber,
and retained his horses by tying them. On this part of the trip he was
accompanied by Hugh Burns, a well-known Irishman, who made himself
useful as cook.
At Oregon City, which he reached about the twenty-fifth of September (F.
X. M.) the first man that he met was Father Waller, the well-known
member of the Methodist Society. By this kindly gentleman, Matthieu was
at once and very pressingly invited home to supper. “He wanted to hear
all about my journey.” Matthieu, however, felt rather delicate about
accepting his hospitality. After his hard journey over the last range of
mountains he felt outrageously hungry; but, for this very reason, was
timid about partaking a “company dinner,” so he began apologizing: “I am
looking rough and very dirty,” he said, “Had you not better excuse me?”
“No, no,” said Father Waller, “you must come.”
The neat house, the supper table with its snowy cloth and shining
dishes, and the care of the lady, Mrs. Waller, to have a nice repast,
greatly impressed the hungry immigrant. But particularly was his
appetite whetted, if that were possible, by the sight and smell of
potatoes—an article of food he had not seen for months. When seated at
the table he was hardly able to restrain himself; he was taken not a
little aback, however, when, instead of proceeding to the meal at once,
the good missionary began by asking a blessing, which he extended into
quite lengthy devotions. “It was the longest prayer I ever heard,” says
Mr. Matthieu.
Learning at Oregon City that there were French Canadians on the prairie
fifteen miles up the Willamette, he proceeded to Champoeg. Arriving
there he found that the settlers in that region numbered nearly three
hundred all told. Stopping off at the old landing, he found near this
point, about a mile and a half up the river, living upon the river bank,
Etienne Lucier, and remained with him during the winter. French Prairie
is the borderland between the originally heavily timbered country of the
lower Willamette and the more open lands of Marion County and the big
prairies of the upper valley. Matthieu found the country of the French
settlers even more beautifully diversified than at the present, the
practice of the Indians, then but recently discontinued, of burning the
prairies over, having brought the whole country for miles together to
the condition of a park. Stately groves of fir and oak, or belts of
deciduous timber along the water courses, broke the monotony of the
grassy levels, while from almost any point of view the panorama of
distant mountain scenery was uninterrupted. The Butte, as it was called,
which escarped upon the Willamette just below the landing, and from
which Butteville takes its name, formed a sightly highland and became a
well-known landmark to the voyager of the early day. The name Champoeg,
says Mr. Matthieu, is simply a corruption of the French term, _Champment
Sable_—the camp of the sands.
With this Willamette country, however, Matthieu was not at first
thoroughly pleased. The deep moss that gathered on the trees and
buildings, and the general mildness and moisture of the winter weather,
suggested disease, such as fever and ague. He anticipated a hot, sickly
summer—which, however, he afterwards found was not the characteristic of
Oregon.
Life in this region was entirely Arcadian. The Hudson’s Bay servants had
been encouraged to settle upon the rich prairie lands and raise wheat.
Doctor McLoughlin, a most shrewd business man, foresaw (F. X. M.) that
the Willamette and Columbia valleys would ultimately cease to be
fur-bearing country, and sought privileges to the north. His agreements
with the Russians of New Archangel, allowing him to trade with the
Indians of Alaska, provided, also, that he should supply that post with
fifteen thousand bushels of wheat per year. To meet this requirement,
the old Hudson’s Bay servants who had served out their time, and by
their articles of agreement were to be returned to their native land,
were retained as employees of the company, and they were provided, also,
with an outfit to begin farming. This consisted of a two-wheeled cart,
oxen, plows, a cow, and necessary household furniture, which was to be
paid for in wheat—the ordinary currency of the country. The cattle were
to be returned; the increase kept. A double outfit was allowed to those
who would settle north of the Columbia River. This, as Mr. Matthieu
understands, was for political reasons; the British wishing to secure
that section by actual settlement and occupation. The convenience, the
beauty, and the fertility of the Willamette Valley, however, outweighed
in the minds of the farmers the greater liberality of the offer on the
north, and most of the Hudson’s Bay people came to French Prairie.
Lucier, Matthieu found, was one of the oldest of the Oregonians, having
preceded him by about thirty years. He was one of the old trappers that
came with Hunt’s party, of the Astor expedition. In person, this now old
man was short and stocky, and of a dark complexion. He was about sixty,
and was living with his second wife. The first family of three children
were then grown. His second family consisted of two boys, both of whom
are now living on French Prairie, one having a family of several
children. Among the subjects of conversation with Lucier were the laws
and customs of the United States. The old Hudson’s Bay trapper was quite
suspicious, and had been told that our government imposed very heavy
duties—such as placing a tax upon windows. Matthieu, however, was able
to tell him that this was entirely a mistake. The laws of the United
States were just and liberal, and under them all men were equal; there
was no tyranny. Lucier, who was a very saving and industrious man, and
at the end of his service with the company had to his credit the
respectable sum of £400, was finally well satisfied with these
representations. All the settlers of the Prairie he found to be
hospitable in the extreme; they were willing to share with the stranger
anything they had. The most of them had native wives, or at least of
mixed blood; a number of whom were from Clatsop or Chinook. They were an
industrious people and entirely honest. The incident is related that by
some mistake as to ownership three sacks of potatoes were once left on
the river bank at the portage at Oregon City. There they remained three
months, no one disturbing them. The following story also is told of
McLoughlin and his wheat buyer: It was the custom of the agent who
bought wheat to strike the measure—the wheat not being very well cleaned
requiring to be settled in order to give full weight. Seeing him give
the measure a number of slow, gentle taps, McLoughlin exclaimed, “Tut,
tut,” and gave it one heavy blow; but to his chagrin, and the vast
enjoyment of the bystanders, the doctor’s heavy stroke instead of
_settling_ the grain only shook it up, and he instantly admitted that
the buyer’s way was the best, and with that the farmers were all well
pleased, because thereby they _sold the best weight_—which illustrates
not only their simplicity, but their desire to act on the square with
the great chief factor.
Names of French-Canadians on French Prairie when Mr. Matthieu first went
there, and who all, as he remembers, took part in the provisional
government meeting—they are collected from his ledger of the business
carried on by him with George Le Roque, at Butteville, beginning in
1850:
XAVIER LADEROUTE
ANTOINE BONANFANT
ANDRE LA CHAPELL
PIERRE PAPIN
LOUIS B. VANDALLE
JEAN B. DU CHARME
FABIEN MALOIN
LUC PAGNON
ETIENNE GREGOIRE
AMABLE ARCOUETTE
PIERRE DE LORD
LOUIS A. VANDALLE
JOHN SANDERS
PIERRE PARISEAU
CHARLES RONDEAU
DAVID DONPIERRE
ANDRE DU BOIS
PIERRE DEPOT
MOYSE LOR
PIERRE LE COURSE
JOSEPH BERNABE
BAPTISTE DEGUIRE
ADOLPHE CHAMBERLAIN
JEAN LINGRAS
ALEXIS AUBICHON
JEAN SERVANS
MICHELLE LAFERTE
JEAN B. DALCOURSE
LOUIS OSANT
JEAN B. AUBICHON
ANTOINE FELICE
MICHAEL LAFROMBOISE
JOSEPH GERVAIS
JEAN B. PANPIN
OLIVIER BRISCBOIS
THOMAS ROA
LOUIS BOIVERS
ANDRE LANGTAIN
ETIENNE LUCIER
ALEXIS LAPRATTE
PIERRE BELAQUE.
The following were Frenchmen who came to Oregon in the spring of 1842,
except Matthieu, who came in the fall. They were at the meeting at
Champoeg. This list has, perhaps, never been published:
GEDEREAU SENCALLE
THOMAS MOISON
PIERRE GANTHIER
AUGUSTIN REMON
JOSEPH MATTE
FRANCIS BERNIER
F. X. MATTHIEU.
During the first months of the year 1843, the question of organizing an
independent or provisional government, until the United States should
extend its authority over Oregon, was much discussed. Debates were held
at Oregon City, and the project was the matter of ordinary conversations
at Salem and Tualatin Plains. The leaders of the movement, as is well
known, saw the necessity of the whole community participating, and
devised a plan that would interest all. The French Canadians could not
be interested in the general question of a new government; being quite
contented as they were, and having unlimited faith in McLoughlin, with
whom they did all their business, and from whom they obtained all the
counsel and protection they felt needed.
“The idea of organizing a provisional government was then,” says Mr.
Matthieu, “to give the United States a reason for taking possession of
Oregon.”
The device of the “Wolf Meetings,” however, for providing protection
against the wild animals, brought them out and the greater question of
forming a government was gradually from this brought to a focus. With
this preliminary work, however, Matthieu had nothing to do, and his
sentiments were not known to the Americans, or even to the Canadians,
except Lucier. He was not at the meetings of February and March. He
attended the meeting at Champoeg. This was held, according to his
recollection, in a Hudson’s Bay building, just over the bluff, at the
landing; the embankment of the river here being high and steep. The
meeting, however, was very informal, being called to order in the house,
but the final vote being taken out of doors.
The details of this important meeting need not be here entered into,
except so far as concerns the recollection of Mr. Matthieu. The ability
of the common people to organize and maintain a sufficient government,
in a remote corner of the world, in the midst of numerous and even in
some cases of powerful and cunning bands of Indians; and in opposition
to the interests and business policy of a great corporation—was to be
tested. The character and calibre of the men who constituted the
“people” is a matter of the highest and most lasting interest. What
items Mr. Matthieu recollects of them are worthy of the most careful
preservation. He remembers W. H. Gray as one of the most active and
strenuous of the Americans at the meeting. “Gray took part,” he says.
“He wanted to organize the worst way—he would not give up to any other
notion.” G. W. Le Breton, whom he describes as very popular, both with
the French and with the Americans, and who acted as secretary, was not
less alert. He remembers Le Breton as a young man, short in person, but
very active. “He never stood still a minute.” He recollects Rev. J. S.
Griffin of Tualatin Plains as present, but not as taking a very active
part. Robert Shortess, with his tall, slim figure and strongly Roman
profile, was also among the number. Sydney Smith, from Chehalem, was
there too. Mr. Matthieu recalls of Smith that he once hired him to
assist in filling out a bill of logs, contracted to be delivered at
Oregon City. To Matthieu’s dismay—he was inexperienced as a
lumberman—the first cut, which was from a white fir, that he had rolled
into the river, sank out of sight in the water. Smith used a strong
expression implying lack of sense on the part of the person to whom it
was applied, and then exclaimed—“I will show you.” Then he bored a hole
in a log to be rafted and inserted a large cedar plug, or chunk, which
just floated the white fir. Thomas Hubbard was also at the meeting.
Others whom he recalls were Amos Cook and Francis Fletcher of the
Yamhill Fords, near La Fayette; and George Gay, who was formerly an
English sailor, but took leave of his ship at Monterey, California, and
came to Oregon in the well known party with Doctor Bailey, and became a
large landholder near Dayton, building the first brick house in the
valley, and becoming famous for his hospitality to travelers. Others
were G. W. Ebbert, Wilkins, Doctor Newell and Joseph L. Meek, of the
Tualatin Plains, and Messrs. Babcock, Hines, Doctor Wilson, Alanson
Beers, and J. L. Parrish of the Methodist Society.