Early History of the Hildebrand family.—Settled in St.
Francois county, Missouri.—Sam Hildebrand born.—Troublesome
Neighbors.—Union Sentiments.
In regard to the early history of the Hildebrand family, I can only
state what tradition has handed down from one generation to another.
As I have no education, and can neither read in English nor Dutch, I
am not able to give any of the outlines of history bearing upon the
origin or acts of the Hildebrands in remote ages. This task I leave for
others, with this remark, that tradition connects our family with the
Hildebrands who figured in the German history up to the very origin of
the Dutch language. The branch of the family to which I belong were
driven from Bavaria into Netherlands two hundred years ago, where they
remained about forty years, and then emigrated to Pennsylvania at the
first settlement of that portion of America.
They were a hardy race of people and always shunned a city life,
or being cooped up in thickly settled districts; they kept on the
outskirts of aggressive civilization as it pressed the redman still
back into the wild solitudes of the West, thus occupying the middle
ground or twilight of refinement. Hence they continually breathed the
pure, fresh air of our country‘s morning, trod through the dewy vales
of pioneer life, and drank at Freedom‘s shady fountains among the
unclaimed hills.
They were literally a race of backwoodsmen inured to hardship, and
delighted in nothing so much as wild adventure and personal danger.
They explored the hills rather than the dull pages of history, pursued
the wild deer instead of tame literature, and enjoyed their own
thoughts rather than the dreamy notions eminating from the feverish
brain of philosophy.
In 1832 my father and mother, George and Rebecca Hildebrand, settled
in St. Francois county, Missouri, on a stream called Big River, one of
the tributaries of the Meramec which empties into the Mississippi about
twenty miles below St. Louis.
The bottom lands on Big River are remarkably fertile, and my father
was so fortunate as to secure one of the best bodies of land in that
county. Timber grew in abundance, both on the hills and in the valleys,
consequently it took a great deal of hard labor to open a farm; but
after a few years of close attention, father, by the assistance of
his boys who were growing up, succeeded in opening a very large one.
He built a large stone dwelling house two stories high, and finished
it off in beautiful style, besides other buildings—barns, cribs and
stables necessary on every well regulated farm.
Father and mother raised a family of ten children, consisting of seven
boys and three girls. I was the fifth one in the family, and was born
at the old homestead on Big River, St. Francois county, Missouri, on
the 6th day of January, 1836.
The facilities for acquiring an education in that neighborhood were
very slim indeed, besides I never felt inclined to go to school even
when I had a chance; I was too fond of hunting and fishing, or playing
around the majestic bluffs that wall in one side or the other of Big
River, the whole length of that crooked and very romantic stream.
One day‘s schooling was all that I ever got in my life; that day
was sufficient for me, it gave me a distaste to the very sight of a
school house. I only learned the names of two letters, one shaped like
the gable end of a house roof, and the other shaped like an ox yoke
standing on end. At recess in the afternoon the boys got to picking
at me while the teacher was gone to dinner, and I had them every one
to whip. When the old tyrant came back from dinner and commenced
talking saucy, I gave him a good cursing and broke for home. My father
very generously gave me my choice, either to go to school or to work
on the farm. I gladly accepted the latter, redoubled my energy and
always afterwards took particular pains to please my father in all
things, because he was so kind as not to compel me to attend school. A
threat to send me to school was all the whipping that I ever required
to insure obedience; I was more afraid of that than I was of old
“Raw-head-and-bloody-bones,” or even the old scratch himself.
In 1850, my father died, but I still remained at the homestead, working
for the support of my mother and the rest of the family, until I had
reached the age of nineteen years, then, on the 30th day of October,
1854, I married Miss Margaret Hampton, the daughter of a highly
esteemed citizen of St. Francois county. I built a neat log house,
opened a farm for myself, within half a mile of the old homestead, and
we went to housekeeping for ourselves.
From the time that my father first settled on Big River, we had an
abundance of stock, and especially hogs. The range was always good,
and as the uplands and hills constituted an endless forest of oaks,
the inexhaustible supply of acorns afforded all the food that our hogs
required; they roamed in the woods, and of course, many of them became
as wild as deer; the wild ones remained among the hills and increased
until they became very numerous. Whenever they were fat enough for
pork, we were in the habit of going into the woods with our guns and
our dogs and killing as many of them as we could.
A few years after my father had settled there, a colony of Pennsylvania
Dutch had established themselves in our neighborhood; they were very
numerous and constituted about two-thirds of the population of our
township. They soon set up “wild hog claims,” declaring that some of
their hogs had also run wild; this led to disputes and quarrels, and to
some “fist and skull fighting,” in which my brothers and myself soon
won the reputation of “bullies.” Finding that they had no show at this
game, they next resorted to the law, and we had many little law suits
before our justice of the peace. The Dutch _out swore_ us, and we soon
found the Hildebrand family branded by them with the very unjust and
unpleasant epithet of “hog thieves;” but _we_ went in on the _muscle_
and still held the woods.
As our part of the country became more thickly settled and new
neighbors came in, they in turn were prejudiced against us; and
the rising generation seemed to cling to the same idea, that the
Hildebrands seemed to love pork a little too well and needed watching.
Unfortunately for me, my old neighbors were union men; all my
sympathies too, were decidedly for the union. I heard with alarm the
mutterings of war in the distance, like the deep tones of thunder
beyond the frowning hills. I had never made politics my study; I had
no education whatever, and had to rely exclusively on what others told
me. Of course I was easily imposed upon by political tricksters, yet
from my heart I deplored the necessity of a resort to arms, if such a
necessity did exist, and whether it did or not was more than I could
divine.
While my union neighbors and enemies were making the necessary
preparations for leaving their families in comfortable circumstances
before taking up arms in defense of their country, there were a few
shrewd southern men around to magnify and distort the grievances of the
southern people. In many cases the men whom they obtained had nothing
in the world at stake, no useful object in view, no visible means of
acquiring an honest livelihood, and were even without a horse to ride.
This, however, only afforded them a pretext for practicing what they
called “pressing horses,” which was done on a large scale. Neither
political principles, patriotic motives, nor love of country prompted
this abominable system of horse stealing. It was not confined to
either party, and it was a remarkable co-incident how invariably the
political sentiments of a horse-pressing renegade would differ from the
neighbor who happened to have the fastest horses.