Boone removes to the head waters of the Yadkin river--He meets with
Finley, who had crossed the mountains into Tennessee--They agree to
explore the wilderness west of the Alleghanies together.
After his marriage, Boone's first step was to consider where he should
find a place, in which he could unite the advantages of fields to
cultivate, and range for hunting. True to the impulse of his nature, he
plunged deeper into the wilderness, to realize this dream of comfort and
happiness. Leaving his wife, he visited the unsettled regions of North
Carolina, and selected a spot near the head waters of the Yadkin, for
his future home.
The same spirit that afterwards operated to take Mrs. Boone to Kentucky,
now led her to leave her friends, and follow her husband to a region
where she was an entire stranger. Men change their place of abode from
ambition or interest; women from affection. In the course of a few
months, Daniel Boone had reared comfortable cabins upon a pleasant
eminence at a little distance from the river bank, inclosed a field, and
gathered around him the means of abundance and enjoyment. His dwelling,
though of rude exterior, offered the weary traveller shelter, a cheerful
fire, and a plentiful board, graced with the most cordial welcome. The
faces that looked on him were free from the cloud of care, the
constraint of ceremony, and the distrust and fear, with which men learn
to regard one another in the midst of the rivalry, competition, and
scramble of populous cities. The spoils of the chase gave variety to his
table, and afforded Boone an excuse for devoting his leisure hours to
his favorite pursuit. The country around spread an ample field for its
exercise, as it was almost untouched by the axe of the woodsman.
The lapse of a few years--passed in the useful and unpretending
occupations of the husbandman--brought no external change to Daniel
Boone, deserving of record. His step was now the firm tread of sober
manhood; and his purpose the result of matured reflection. This
influence of the progress of time, instead of obliterating the original
impress of his character, only sunk it deeper. The dwellings of
immigrants were springing up in all directions around. Inclosures again
began to surround him on every hand, shutting him out from his
accustomed haunts in the depths of the forest shade. He saw cultivated
fields stretching over large extents of country; and in the distance,
villages and towns; and was made sensible of their train of forms, and
laws, and restrictions, and buts, and bounds, gradually approaching his
habitation. Be determined again to leave them far behind. His resolve
was made, but he had not decided to what point he would turn.
Circumstances soon occurred to terminate his indecision.
As early as 1760, the country west of the Cumberland mountains was
considered by the inhabitants of Carolina and Virginia, as involved in
something of the same obscurity which lay over the American continent,
after its first discovery by Columbus. Those who spread their sails to
cross the sea, and find new skies, a new soil, and men in a new world,
were not deemed more daring by their brethren at home, than the few
hardy adventurers, who struck into the pathless forests stretching along
the frontier settlements of the western country, were estimated by their
friends and neighbors. Even the most informed and intelligent, where
information and intelligence were cultivated, knew so little of the
immense extent of country, now designated as the "Mississippi Valley,"
that a book, published near the year 1800, in Philadelphia or New York,
by a writer of talent and standing, speaks of the _many_ mouths of the
Missouri, as entering the Mississippi _far below the Ohio_.
The simple inmates of cabins, in the remote region bordering on the new
country, knew still less about it; as they had not penetrated its
wilderness, and were destitute of that general knowledge which prevents
the exercise of the exaggerations of vague conjecture. There was,
indeed, ample room for the indulgence of speculation upon the features
which the unexplored land was characterized. Its mountains, plains, and
streams, animals, and men, were yet to be discovered and named. It might
be found the richest land under the sun, exhaustless in fertility,
yielding the most valuable productions, and unfailing in its resources.
It was possible it would prove a sterile desert. Imagination could not
but expatiate in this unbounded field and unexplored wilderness; and
there are few persons entirely secure from the influence of
imagination. The real danger attending the first exploration of a
country filled with wild animals and savages; and the difficulty of
carrying a sufficient supply of ammunition to procure food, during a
long journey, necessarily made on foot, had prevented any attempt of the
kind. The Alleghany mountains had hitherto stood an unsurmounted barrier
between the Atlantic country and the shores of the beautiful Ohio.
Not far from this period, Dr. Walker, an intelligent and enterprising
Virginian, collected a small party, and actually crossed the mountains
at the Cumberland Gap, after traversing Powell's valley. One of his
leading inducements to this tour, was the hope of making botanical
discoveries. The party crossed Cumberland river, and pursued a
north-east course over the highlands, which give rise to the sources of
the lesser tributaries of the important streams that water the Ohio
valley. They reached Big Sandy, after enduring the privations and
fatigue incident to such an undertaking. From this point they commenced
their return home. On reaching it, they showed no inclination to resume
their attempt, although the information thus gained respecting the
country, presented it in a very favorable light. These first adventurers
wanted the hardihood, unconquerable fortitude, and unwavering purpose,
which nothing but death could arrest, that marked the pioneers, who
followed in their footsteps. Some time elapsed before a second exploring
expedition was set on foot. The relations of what these men had seen on
the other side of the mountains had assumed the form of romance, rather
than reality. Hunters, alone or in pairs, now ventured to extend their
range into the skirts of the wilderness, thus gradually enlarging the
sphere of definite conceptions, respecting the country beyond it.
In 1767, a backwoodsman of the name of Finley, of North Carolina, in
company with a few kindred spirits resembling him in character, advanced
still farther into the interior of the land of promise. It is probable,
they chose the season of flowers for their enterprise; as on the return
of this little band, a description of the soil they had trodden, and the
sights they had seen, went abroad, that charmed all ears, excited all
imaginations, and dwelt upon every tongue. Well might they so describe.
Their course lay through a portion of Tennessee. There is nothing grand
or imposing in scenery--nothing striking or picturesque in cascades and
precipitous declivities of mountains covered with woods--nothing
romantic and delightful in deep and sheltered valleys, through which
wind clear streams, which is not found in this first region they
traversed. The mountains here stretch along in continuous ridges--and
there shoot up into elevated peaks. On the summits of some, spread
plateaus, which afford the most commanding prospects, and offer all
advantages for cultivation, overhung by the purest atmosphere. No words
can picture the secluded beauty of some of the vales bordering the
creeks and small streams, which dash transparent as air over rocks,
moss-covered and time-worn--walled in by the precipitous sides of
mountains, down which pour numberless waterfalls.
The soil is rich beyond any tracts of the same character in the west.
Beautiful white, gray, and red marbles are found here; and sometimes
fine specimens of rock-crystals. Salt springs abound. It has lead mines;
and iron ore is no where more abundant. Its salt-petre caves are most
astonishing curiosities. One of them has been traced ten miles. Another,
on a high point of Cumberland mountain, has a perpendicular descent, the
bottom of which has never been sounded. They abound in prodigious
vaulted apartments and singular chambers, the roofs springing up into
noble arches, or running along for miles in regular oblong excavations.
The gloomy grandeur, produced by the faint illumination of torches in
these immense subterranean retreats, may be imagined, but not described.
Springs rise, and considerable streams flow through them, on smooth
limestone beds.
This is the very home of subterranean wonders, showing the noblest caves
in the world. In comparison with them, the celebrated one at Antiparos
is but a slight excavation. Spurs of the mountains, called the
"Enchanted Mountains," show traces impressed in the solid limestone, of
the footsteps of men, horses, and other animals, as distinctly as though
they had been made upon clay mortar. In places the tracks are such as
would be made by feet, that had slidden upon soft clay in descending
declivities.
Prodigious remains of animals are found near the salines. Whole trees
are discovered completely petrified; and to crown the list of wonders,
in turning up the soil, graves are opened, which contain the skeletons
of figures, who must have been of mature age. Paintings of the sun,
moon, animals, and serpents, on high and apparently inaccessible cliffs,
out of question the work of former ages, in colors as fresh as if
recently laid on, and in some instances, just and ingenious in
delineation, are a subject of untiring speculation. Even the streams in
this region of wonders have scooped out for themselves immensely deep
channels hemmed in by perpendicular walls of limestone, sometimes
springing up to a height of three or four hundred feet. As the traveller
looks down upon the dark waters rolling so far beneath him, seeming to
flow in a subterranean world, he cannot but feel impressions of the
grandeur of nature stealing over him.
It is not to be supposed, that persons, whose sole object in entering
the country was to explore it, would fail to note these surprising
traces of past races, the beautiful diversity of the aspect of the
country, or these wonders of nature exhibited on every hand. Being
neither incurious nor incompetent observers, their delineations were
graphic and vivid.
"Their teachers had been woods and rills,
The silence, that is in the starry sky;
The sleep, that is among the lonely hills."
They advanced into Kentucky so far, as to their imaginations with the
fresh and luxuriant beauty of its lawns, its rich cane-brakes and
flowering forests. To them it was a terrestrial paradise for it was
full of game. Deer, elk, bears, buffaloes, panthers, wolves, wild-cats,
and foxes, abounded in the thick tangles of the green cane; and in the
open woods, pheasants, partridges, and turkeys, were as plenty as
domestic fowls in the old settlements.
Such were the materials, from which these hunters, on their return
formed descriptions that fixed in the remembrance, and operated upon the
fancy of all who heard. A year after Finley's return, his love of
wandering led him into the vicinity of Daniel Boone. They met, and the
hearts of these kindred spirits at once warmed towards each other.
Finley related his adventures, and painted the delights of
_Kain-tuck-kee_--for such was its Indian name. Boone had but few
hair-breath escapes to recount, in comparison with his new companion.
But it can readily be imagined, that a burning sensation rose in his
breast, like that of the celebrated painter Correggio, when low-born,
untaught, poor and destitute of every advantage, save that of splendid
native endowment, he stood before the work of the immortal Raphael, and
said, "I too am a painter!" Boone's purpose was fixed. In a region, such
as Finley described, far in advance of the wearying monotony of a life
of inglorious toil, he would have space to roam unwitnessed, undisturbed
by those of his own race, whose only thought was to cut down trees, at
least for a period of some years. We wish not to be understood to laud
these views, as wise or just. In the order of things, however, it was
necessary, that men like Finley and Boone, and their companions, should
precede in the wilderness, to prepare the way for the multitudes who
would soon follow. It is probable, that no motives but those ascribed to
them, would have induced these adventurers to face the hardships and
extremes of suffering from exposure and hunger, and the peril of life,
which they literally carried in their hand.
No feeling, but a devotion to their favorite pursuits and modes of life,
stronger than the fear of abandonment, in the interminable and pathless
woods, to all forms of misery and death, could ever have enabled them to
persist in braving the danger and distress that stared them in the face
at every advancing step.
Finley was invited by Boone permanently to share the comfort of his
fire-side,--for it was now winter. It needs no exercise of fancy to
conjecture their subjects of conversation during the long evening. The
bitter wintry wind burst upon their dwelling only to enhance the
cheerfulness of the blazing fire in the huge chimneys, by the contrast
of the inclemency of nature without.
It does not seem natural, at first thought, that a season, in which
nature shows herself stern and unrelenting, should be chosen, as that in
which plans are originated and matured for settling the destiny of life.
But it was during this winter, that Boone and Finley arranged all the
preliminaries of their expedition, and agreed to meet on the first of
May in the coming spring; and with some others, whom they hoped to
induce to join them for greater strength and safety, to set forth
together on an expedition into Kentucky.
Boone's array of arguments, to influence those whom he wished to share
this daring enterprise with him, was tinctured with the coloring of rude
poetry. "They would ascend," he said, "the unnamed mountains, whose
green heads rose not far from their former hunting-grounds, since fences
and inclosures had begun to surround them on all sides, shutting up the
hunter from his free range and support. The deer had fled from the sound
of the axe, which levelled the noble trees under whose shade they could
repose from the fatigues of pursuit. The springs and streams among the
hills were bared to the fierce sun, and would soon dry up and disappear.
Soon 'the horn would no more wake them up in the morn.' The sons of
their love and pride, instead of being trained hunters, with a free,
bold step, frank kindness, true honor, and a courage that knew not fear,
would become men to whom the pleasures and dangers of their fathers
would seem an idle tale." The prospect spreading on the other side of
the mountains, he pictured as filled with all the images of abundance
and freedom that could enter the thoughts of the hunter. The paintings
were drawn from nature, and the words few and simple, that spoke to the
hearts of these sons of the forest. "The broad woods," he pursued,
"would stretch beneath their eyes, when the mountain summits were
gained, one extended tuft of blossoms. The cane was a tangle of
luxuriance, affording the richest pastures. The only paths through it
were those made by buffaloes and bears. In the sheltered glades,
turkeys and large wild birds were so abundant, that a hunter could
supply himself in an hour for the wants of a week. They would not be
found like the lean and tough birds in the old settlements, that
lingered around the clearings and stumps of the trees, in the topmost of
whose branches the fear of man compelled them to rest, but young and
full fed. The trees in this new land were of no stinted or gnarled
growth, but shot up tall, straight, and taper. The yellow poplar here
threw up into the air a column of an hundred feet shaft in a contest
with the sycamore for the pre-eminence of the woods. Their wives and
children would remain safe in their present homes, until the first
dangers and fatigues of the new settlement had been met and overcome.
When their homes were selected, and their cabins built, they would
return and bring them out to their new abodes. The outward journey could
be regulated by the uncontrolled pleasure of their more frail
travellers. What guardians could be more true than their husbands with
their good rifles and the skill and determination to use them? They
would depend, not upon circumstances, but upon themselves. The babes
would exult in the arms of their mothers from the inspiring influence of
the fresh air; and at night a cradle from the hollow tree would rock
them to a healthful repose. The older children, training to the pursuits
and pleasures of a life in the woods, and acquiring vigor of body and
mind with every day, in their season of prime, would feel no shame that
they had hearts softened by the warm current of true feeling. When their
own silver hairs lay thin upon the brow, and their eye was dim, and
sounds came confused on their ear, and their step faltered, and their
form bent, they would find consideration, and care, and tenderness from
children, whose breasts were not steeled by ambition, nor hardened by
avarice; in whom the beautiful influences of the indulgence of none but
natural desires and pure affections would not be deadened by the
selfishness, vanity, and fear of ridicule, that are the harvest of what
is called _civilized and cultivated_ life." Such at least, in after
life, were the contrasts that Boone used to present between social life
and that of the woodsman.
[Illustration]