little river in Michigan. Erecting an altar, he said mass, after the
rites of the Catholic church; then, begging the men who conducted his
canoe to leave him alone for a half hour,
"----'In the darkling wood,
Amid the cool and silence, he knelt down,
And offered to the mightiest solemn thanks
And supplication.'
"At the end of the half hour they went to seek him, _and he was no
more_. The good missionary, discoverer of a world, had fallen asleep on
the margin of the stream that bears his name. Near its mouth, the
canoe-men dug his grave in the sand. Ever after, the forest rangers, in
their danger on Lake Michigan, would invoke his name. The people of the
West will build his monument."[69]
The monument is not yet built; though the name of new counties in
several of our western states testifies that the noble missionary is not
altogether forgotten, in the land where he spent so many self-denying
years.
Such was the _voyageur_ priest; the first, in chronological order, of
the succession of singular men who have explored and peopled the great
West. And though many who have followed him have been his equals in
courage and endurance, none have ever possessed the same combination of
heroic and unselfish qualities. It ought not to be true that this brief
and cursory sketch is the first distinct tribute yet paid to his
virtues; for no worthier subject ever employed the pen of the poet or
historian.
NOTE.--Struck with the fact that the history of this class of men,
and of their enterprises and sufferings, has never been written,
except by themselves in their simple "Journals" and
"Relations"--for the _resume_ given of these by Sparks, Bancroft,
and others, is of necessity a mere unsatisfactory abstract--the
writer has for some time been engaged in collecting and arranging
materials, with the intention of supplying the want. The
authorities are numerous and widely scattered; and such a work
ought to be thoroughly and carefully written, so that much time and
labor lies between the author and his day of publication. Should he
be spared, however, to finish the work, he hopes to present a
picture of a class of men, displaying as much of true devotion,
genuine courage, and self-denial, in the humble walk of the
missionary, as the pages of history show in any other department of
human enterprise.
FOOTNOTES:
[52] In common use, this word was restricted so as to indicate only the
boatmen, the carriers of that time; but I am writing of a period
anterior, by many years, to the existence of the Trade which made their
occupation.
[53] Joutel, who was one of La Salle's party, and afterward wrote an
account of the enterprise, entitled _Journal Historique_, published in
Paris, 1713. Its fidelity is as evident upon its face, as is the
simplicity of the historian.
[54] This was in the winter of 1679-'80; and the Five Nations, included
in the general term Iroquois, had not then made the conquest upon which
the English afterward founded their claim to the country. They were,
however, generally regarded as enemies by all the Illinois tribes.
[55] A collective name, including a number, variously stated, of
different tribes confederated.
[56] _Annals of the West_, by J. H. Perkins and J. M. Peck, p. 679. St.
Louis. 1850.
[57] The substance of the Journal may be found, republished by Dr.
Sparks, in the second edition of _Butler's Kentucky_, p. 493, _et seq._,
and in vol. x. of his _American Biography_.
[58] _Miscellanies_, "Review of Ranke's History of the Popes."
[59] In a book which he published at Utrecht, in 1697, entitled _A New
Discovery of a Vast Country_, he claims to have gone down the
Mississippi to its mouth before La Salle. The whole book is a mere
plagiarism. See Sparks's _Life of La Salle_, where the vain father is
summarily and justly disposed of.
[60] Most of these dates may be found in Bancroft's _United States_, vol
iii.
[61] The legend of the Piasau is well known. Within the recollection of
men now living, rude paintings of the monster were visible on the cliffs
above Alton, Illinois. To these images, when passing in their canoes,
the Indians were accustomed to make offerings of maize, tobacco, and
gunpowder. They are now quite obliterated.
[62] June 10, 1673.
[63] I mean, of course, the upper Mississippi; for De Soto had reached
it lower down one hundred and thirty-two years before.
[64] It was announced, some months since, that our minister at Rome, Mr.
Cass, had made discoveries in that city which threw more light upon this
expedition. But how this can be, consistently with the fact stated in
the text (about which there is no doubt), I am at a loss to divine.
[65] The place of Marquette's landing--which should be classic
ground--from his description of the country, and the distance he
specifies, could not have been far from the spot where the city of
Keokuk now stands, a short distance above the mouth of the Des Moines.
The locality should, if possible, be determined.
[66] It was by virtue of a treaty of purchase--signed at Fort Stanwix on
the 5th of November, 1768--with the Six Nations, who claimed the country
as their conquest, that the British asserted a title to the country west
of the Alleghenies, Western Virginia, Kentucky, etc.
[67] The geographical mistakes of the early French explorers have led to
some singular discussions about Western history--have even been used by
diplomatists to support or weaken territorial claims. Such, for example,
is the question concerning the antiquity of Vincennes, a controversy
founded on the mistake noticed in the text. Vide _Western Annals_. 2d
Ed. Revised by J. M. Peck.
[68] In 1541, De Soto crossed the Mississippi about the thirty-fifth
parallel of latitude, or near the northern boundary of the state of that
name. It is not certain how far below this Marquette went, though we are
safe in saying that he did not turn back north of that limit.
[69] Bancroft's _History of the United States_, vol. iii., p. 161, _et
seq._, where the reader may look for most of these dates.
III.
THE PIONEER.
"I hear the tread of pioneers,
Of nations yet to be--
The first low wash of waves where soon
Shall roll a human sea."
WHITTIER.
"The axe rang sharply 'mid those forest shades
Which, from creation, toward the sky had towered
In unshorn beauty."
SIGOURNEY.
[Illustration: THE PIONEER.]
Next, in chronological order, after the missionary, came the military
adventurer--of which class La Salle was the best representative. But the
expeditions led by these men, were, for the most part, wild and
visionary enterprises, in pursuit of unattainable ends. They were,
moreover, unskilfully managed and unfortunately terminated--generally
ending in the defeat, disappointment, and death of those who had set
them on foot. They left no permanent impress upon the country; the most
acute moral or political vision can not now detect a trace of their
influence, in the aspect of the lands they penetrated; and, so far from
hastening the settlement of the Great Valley, it is more probable that
their disastrous failures rather retarded it--by deterring others from
the undertaking. Their history reads like a romance; and their
characters would better grace the pages of fiction, than the annals of
civilization. Further than this brief reference, therefore, I find no
place for them, in a work which aims only to notice those who either
aided to produce, or indicated, the characteristics of the society in
which they lived.
Soon after them, came the Indian-traders--to whose generosity so many of
the captives, taken by the natives in those early times, were indebted
for their ransom. But--notwithstanding occasional acts of charity--their
unscrupulous rapacity, and, particularly, their introduction of
spirituous liquors among the savages, furnish good reason to doubt,
whether, on the whole, they did anything to advance the civilization of
the lands and people they visited. And, as we shall have occasion to
refer again, though briefly, to the character in a subsequent article,
we will pass over it for the present, and hasten on to the _Pioneer_.
Of this class, there are two sub-divisions: the floating, transitory,
and erratic frontierman--including the hunter, the trapper, the scout
and Indian-fighter: men who can not be considered _citizens_ of any
country, but keep always a little in advance of permanent emigration.
With this division of the class, we have little to do: first, because
they are already well understood, by most readers in this country,
through the earlier novels of Cooper, their great delineator; and,
second, because, as we have intimated, our business is chiefly with
those, whose footprints have been stamped upon the country, and whose
influence is traceable in its civilization. We, therefore, now desire to
direct attention to the other sub-division--the genuine "settler;" the
firm, unflinching, permanent emigrant, who entered the country to till
the land and to possess it, for himself and his descendants.
And, in the first place, let us inquire what motives could induce men to
leave regions, where the axe had been at work for many years--where the
land was reduced to cultivation, and the forest reclaimed from the wild
beast and the wilder savage--where civilization had begun to exert its
power, and society had assumed a legal and determined shape--to depart
from all these things, seeking a new home in an inhospitable
wilderness, where they could only gain a footing by severe labor,
constant strife, and sleepless vigilance? To be capable of doing all
this, from _any_ motive, a man must be a strange compound of qualities;
but that compound, strange as it is, has done, and is doing, more to
reclaim the west, and change the wilderness into a garden, than all
other causes combined.
A prominent trait in the character of the genuine American, is the
desire "to better his condition"--a peculiarity which sometimes embodies
itself in the disposition to forget the good old maxim, "Let well-enough
alone," and not unfrequently leads to disaster and suffering. A thorough
Yankee--using that word as the English do, to indicate national, not
sectional, character--is never satisfied with doing well; he always
underrates his gains and his successes; and, though to others he may be
boastful enough, and may, even truly, rate the profits of his enterprise
by long strings of "naught," he is always whispering to himself, "I
ought to do better." If he sees any one accumulating property faster
than himself, he becomes emulous and discontented--he is apt to think,
unless he goes more rapidly than any one else, that he is not moving at
all. If he can find no one of his neighbors advancing toward fortune,
with longer strides than he, he will imagine some successful
"speculator," to whom he will compare himself, and chafe at his
inferiority to a figment of his own fancy. If he possessed "a million a
minute," he would cast about for some profitable employment, in which he
might engage, "to pay expenses." He will abandon a silver-mine, of slow,
but certain gains, for the gambling chances of a gold "placer;" and if
any one within his knowledge dig out more wealth than he, he will leave
the "diggings," though his success be quite encouraging, and go
quixoting among the islands of the sea, in search of pearls and
diamonds. With the prospect of improvement in his fortunes--whether that
prospect be founded upon reason, be a naked fancy, or the offspring of
mere discontent--he regards no danger, cares for no hardship, counts no
suffering. Everything must bend before the ruling passion, "to better
his condition."
His spirit is eminently encroaching. Rather than give up any of his own
"rights," he will take a part of what belongs to others. Whatever he
thinks necessary to his welfare, to that he believes himself entitled.
To whatever point he desires to reach, he takes the straightest course,
even though the way lie across the corner of his neighbor's field. Yet
he is intensely jealous of his own possessions, and warns off all
trespassers with an imperial menace of "the utmost penalty of the law."
He has, of course, an excellent opinion of himself--and justly: for when
not blinded by cupidity or vexed by opposition, no man can hold the
scales of justice with a more even hand.
He is seldom conscious of having done a wrong: for he rarely moves until
he has ascertained "both the propriety and expediency of the motion." He
has, therefore, an instinctive aversion to all retractions and
apologies. He has such a proclivity to the forward movement, that its
opposite, even when truth and justice demand it, is stigmatized, in his
vocabulary, by odious and ridiculous comparisons. He is very stubborn,
and, it is feared, sometimes mistakes his obstinacy for firmness. He
thinks a safe retreat worse than a defeat with slaughter. Yet he never
rests under a reverse, and, though manifestly prostrate, will never
acknowledge that he is beaten. A check enrages him more than a decided
failure: for so long as his end is not accomplished, nor defeated, he
can see no reason why he should not succeed. If his forces are driven
back, shattered and destroyed, he is not cast down, but angry--he
forthwith swears vengeance and another trial. He is quite insatiable--as
a failure does not dampen him, success can never satisfy him. His plans
are always on a great scale; and, if they sometimes exceed his means of
execution, at least, "he who aims at the sun," though he may lose his
arrow, "will not strike the ground." He is a great projector--but he is
eminently practical, as well as theoretical; and if _he_ cannot realize
his visions, no other man need try.
He is restless and migratory. He is fond of change, for the sake of the
change; and he will have it, though it bring him only new labors and new
hardships. He is, withal, a little selfish--as might be supposed. He
begins to lose his attachment to the advantages of his home, so soon as
they are shared by others. He does not like near neighbors--has no
affection for the soil; he will leave a place on which he has expended
much time and labor, as soon as the region grows to be a "settlement."
Even in a town, he is dissatisfied if his next neighbor lives so near
that the women can gossip across the division-fence. He likes to be at
least one day's journey from the nearest plantation.
I once heard an old pioneer assign as a reason why he must emigrate from
western Illinois, the fact that "people were settling right under his
nose"--and the farm of his nearest neighbor was twelve miles distant, by
the section lines! He moved on to Missouri, but there the same
"impertinence" of emigrants soon followed him; and, abandoning his
half-finished "clearing," he packed his family and household goods in a
little wagon, and retreated, across the plains to Oregon. He is--or was,
two years ago--living in the valley of the Willamette, where, doubtless,
he is now chafing under the affliction of having neighbors in the same
region, and nothing but an ocean beyond.
His character seems to be hard-featured.
But he is neither unsocial, nor morose. He welcomes the stranger as
heartily as the most hospitable patriarch. He receives the sojourner at
his fireside without question. He regales him with the best the house
affords: is always anxious to have him "stay another day." He cares for
his horse, renews his harness, laughs at his stories, and exchanges
romances with him. He hunts with him; fishes, rides, walks, talks, eats,
and drinks with him. His wife washes and mends the stranger's shirts,
and lends him a needle and thread to sew a button on his only pair of
pantaloons. The children sit on his knee, the dog lies at his feet, and
accompanies him into the woods. The whole family are his friends, and
only grow cold and distant when they learn that he is looking for land,
and thinks of "settling" within a few leagues. If nothing of the sort
occurs--and this only "leaks out" by accident, for the pioneer never
pries inquisitively into the business of his guest, he keeps him as long
as he can; and when he can stay no longer, fills his saddle-bags with
flitches of bacon and "pones" of corn-bread, shakes him heartily by the
hand, exacts a promise to stop again on his return, and bids him
"God-speed" on his journey.
Such is American character, in the manifestations which have most
affected the settlement and development of the West; a compound of many
noble qualities, with a few--and no nation is without such--that are not
quite so respectable. All these, both good and bad, were possessed by
the early pioneer in an eminent, sometimes in an extravagant degree; and
the circumstances, by which he found himself surrounded after his
emigration to the West, tended forcibly to their exaggeration.
But the qualities--positive and negative--above enumerated, were, many
of them, at least, peculiarities belonging to the early emigrant, as
much before as after his removal. And there were others, quite as
distinctly marked, called into activity, if not actually created by his
life in the wilderness. Such, for example, was his self-reliance--his
confidence in his own strength, sagacity, and courage. It was but little
assistance that he ever required from his neighbors, though no man was
ever more willing to render it to others, in the hour of need. He was
the swift avenger of his own wrongs, and he never appealed to another to
ascertain his rights. Legal tribunals were an abomination to him.
Government functionaries he hated, almost as the Irish hate excisemen.
Assessments and taxes he could not endure, for, since he was his own
protector, he had no interest in sustaining the civil authorities.
Military organizations he despised, for subordination was no part of his
nature. He stood up in the native dignity of manhood, and called no
mortal his superior. When he joined his neighbors, to avenge a foray of
the savages, he joined on the most equal terms--each man was, for the
time, his own captain; and when the leader was chosen--for the
pioneers, with all their personal independence, were far too rational to
underrate the advantages of a head in the hour of danger--each voice was
counted in the choice, and the election might fall on any one. But, even
after such organization, every man was fully at liberty to abandon the
expedition, whenever he became dissatisfied, or thought proper to return
home. And if this want of discipline sometimes impaired the strength,
and rendered unavailing the efforts, of communities, it at least
fostered the manly spirit of personal independence; and, to keep that
alive in the breasts of a people, it is worth while to pay a yearly
tribute, even though that tribute be rendered unto the King of Terrors!
This self-reliance was not an arrogant and vulgar egotism, as it has
been so often represented in western stories, and the tours of
superficial travellers. It was a calm, just estimate of his own
capabilities--a well-grounded confidence in his own talents--a clear,
manly understanding of his own individual rights, dignity, and
relations. Such is the western definition of independence; and if there
be anything of it in the western character at the present day, it is due
to the stubborn and intense individuality of the first pioneer. He it
was who laid the foundation of our social fabric, and it is his spirit
which yet pervades our people.
The quality which next appears, in analyzing this character, is his
_courage_.
It was not mere physical courage, nor was it stolid carelessness of
danger. The pioneer knew, perfectly well, the full extent of the peril
that surrounded him; indeed, he could not be ignorant of it; for almost
every day brought some new memento, either of his savage foe, or of the
prowling beast of prey. He ploughed, and sowed, and reaped, and
gathered, with the rifle slung over his shoulders; and, at every turn,
he halted, listening, with his ear turned toward his home; for well he
knew that, any moment, the scream of his wife, or the wail of his
children, might tell of the up-lifted tomahawk, or the murderous
scalping-knife.
His courage, then, was not ignorance of danger--not that of the child,
which thrusts its hand within the lion's jaws, and knows naught of the
penalty it braves. His ear was ever listening, his eye was always
watching, his nerves were ever strung, for battle. He was stout of
heart, and strong of hand--he was calm, sagacious, unterrified. He was
never disconcerted--excitement seldom moved him--his mind was always at
its own command. His heart never lost its firmness--no suffering could
overcome him--he was as stoical as the savage, whose greatest glory is
to triumph amidst the most cruel tortures. His pride sustained him when
his flesh was pierced with burning brands--when his muscles crisped and
crackled in the flames. To the force of character, belonging to the
white, he added the savage virtues of the red man; and many a captive
has been rescued from the flames, through his stern contempt for
torture, and his sneering triumph over his tormentors. The highest
virtue of the savage was his fortitude; and he respected and admired
even a "pale face," who emulated his endurance.
But fortitude is only passive courage--and the bravery of the pioneer
was eminently active. His vengeance was as rapid as it was sometimes
cruel. No odds against him could deter him, no time was ever wasted in
deliberation. If a depredation was committed in the night, the dawn of
morning found the sufferer on the trail of the marauder. He would follow
it for days, and even weeks, with the sagacity of the blood-hound, with
the patience of the savage: and, perhaps, in the very midst of the
Indian country, in some moment of security, the blow descended, and the
injury was fearfully avenged! The debt was never suffered to accumulate,
when it could be discharged by prompt payment--and it was never
forgotten! If the account could not be balanced now, the obligation was
treasured up for a time to come--and, when least expected, the debtor
came, and paid with usury!
It has been said, perhaps truly, that a fierce, bloody spirit ruled the
settlers in those early days. And it is unquestionable, that much of
that contempt for the slow vengeance of a legal proceeding, which now
distinguishes the people of the frontier west, originated then. It was,
doubtless, an unforgiving--eminently an unchristian--spirit: but
vengeance, sure and swift, was the only thing which could impress the
hostile savage. And, if example, in a matter of this sort, could be
availing, for their severity to the Indians, they had the highest!
The eastern colonists--good men and true--"willing to exterminate the
savages," says Bancroft,[70] who is certainly not their enemy, offered a
bounty for every Indian scalp--as we, in the west, do for the scalps of
wolves! "To regular forces under pay, the grant was _ten_ pounds--to
volunteers, in actual service, _twice that sum_; but if men would, of
themselves, without pay, make up parties and patrol the forests in
search of Indians, _as of old the woods were scoured for wild beasts_,
the chase was invigorated by the promised 'encouragement of _fifty_
pounds per scalp!'" The "fruitless cruelties" of the Indian allies of
the French in Canada, says the historian, gave birth to these humane and
nicely-graduated enactments! Nor is our admiration of their Christian
spirit in the least diminished, when we reflect that nothing is recorded
in history of "bounties on scalps" or "encouragement" to murder, offered
by Frontenac, or any other French-Canadian governor, as a revenge for
the horrible massacre at Montreal, or the many "fruitless cruelties" of
the bloody Iroquois![71]