FROM PITTSBURGH TO BLENNERHASSET'S ISLAND
THE START FOR THE GULF.-- CAUGHT IN THE ICE-RAFT.-- CAMPING ON THE
OHIO.-- THE GRAVE CREEK MOUND.-- AN INDIAN SEPULCHRE.--
BLENNERHASSET'S ISLAND.-- AARON BURR'S CONSPIRACY.-- A RUINED FAMILY.
UPON arriving at Pittsburgh, on the morning of December 2d, 1875,
after a dreary night's ride by rail from the Atlantic coast, I found
my boat--it having preceded me--safely perched upon a pile of barrels
in the freight-house of the railroad company, which was conveniently
situated within a few rods of the muddy waters of the Monongahela.
The sneak-box, with the necessary stores for the cruise, was
transported to the river's side, and as it was already a little past
noon, and only a few hours of daylight left me, prudence demanded an
instant departure in search of a more retired camping-ground than that
afforded by the great city and its neighboring towns, with the united
population of one hundred and eighty thousand souls. There was not one
friend to give me a cheering word, the happy remembrance of which
might encourage me all through my lonely voyage to the Gulf of Mexico.
The little street Arabs fought among themselves for the empty
provision-boxes left upon the bank as I pushed my well-freighted boat
out upon the whirling current that caught it in its strong embrace,
and, like a true friend, never deserted or lured it into danger while
I trusted to its vigorous help for more than two thousand miles, until
the land of the orange and sugar-cane was reached, and its fresh,
sweet waters were exchanged for the restless and treacherous waves of
the briny sea. Ah, great river, you were indeed, of all material
things, my truest friend for many a day!
The rains in the south had filled the gulches of the Virginia
mountains, the sources of the Monongahela, and it now exhibited a
great degree of turbulence. I was not then aware of the tumultuous
state of the sister tributary, the Alleghany, on the other side of the
city. I supposed that its upper affluents, congealed during the late
cold weather, were quietly enjoying a winter's nap under the heavy
coat in which Jack Frost had robed them. I expected to have an easy
and uninterrupted passage down the river in advance of floating ice;
and, so congratulating myself, I drew near to the confluence of the
Monongahela and Alleghany, from the union of which the great Ohio has
its birth, and rolls steadily across the country a thousand miles to
the mightier Mississippi.
The current of the Monongahela, as it flowed from the south, covered
with mists rising into the wintry air,--for the temperature was but a
few degrees above zero,--had not a particle of ice upon its turbid
bosom.
I rowed gayly on, pleased with the auspicious beginning of the voyage,
hoping at the close of the month to be at the mouth of the river, and
far enough south to escape any inconvenience from a sudden freezing of
its surface, for along its course between its source at Pittsburgh and
its debouchure at Cairo the Ohio makes only two hundred and twelve
miles of southing,--a difference of about two and a half degrees of
latitude. It is not surprising, therefore, that this river during
exceedingly cold winters sometimes freezes over for a few days, from
the state of Pennsylvania to its junction with the Mississippi.
In a few minutes my boat had passed nearly the whole length of the
Pittsburgh shore, when suddenly, upon looking over my shoulder, I
beheld the river covered with an ice-raft, which was passing out of
the Alleghany, and which completely blocked the Ohio from shore to
shore. French Creek, Oil Creek, and all the other tributaries of the
Alleghany, had burst from their icy barriers, thrown off the wintry
coat of mail, and were pouring their combined wrath into the Ohio.
This unforeseen trouble had to be met without much time for
calculating the results of entering the ice-pack. A light canoe would
have been ground to pieces in the multitude of icy cakes, but the
half-inch skin of soft but elastic white swamp-cedar of the decked
sneak-box, with its light oaken runner-strips firmly screwed to its
bottom, was fully able to cope with the difficulty; so I pressed the
boat into the floating ice, and by dint of hard work forced her
several rods beyond the eddies, and fairly into the steady flow of the
strong current of the river.
[The start--head of the Ohio River.]
There was nothing more to be done to expedite the journey, so I sat
down in the little hold, and, wrapped comfortably in blankets, watched
the progress made by the receding points of interest upon the high
banks of the stream. Towards night some channel-ways opened in the
pack, and, seizing upon the opportunity, I rowed along the ice-bound
lanes until dusk, when happily a chance was offered for leaving the
frosty surroundings, and the duck-boat was soon resting on a shelving,
pebbly strand on the left bank of the river, two miles above the
little village of Freedom.
The rapid current had carried me twenty-two miles in four hours and a
half.
Not having slept for thirty-six hours, or eaten since morning, I was
well prepared physically to retire at an early hour. A few minutes
sufficed to securely stake my boat, to prevent her being carried off
by a sudden rise in the river during my slumbers; a few moments more
were occupied in arranging the thin hair cushions and a thick cotton
coverlet upon the floor of the boat. The bag which contained my
wardrobe, consisting of a blue flannel suit, &c., served for a pillow.
A heavy shawl and two thin blankets furnished sufficient covering for
the bed. Bread and butter, with Shakers' peach-sauce, and a generous
slice of Wilson's compressed beef, a tin of water from the icy
reservoir that flowed past my boat and within reach of my arm, all
contributed to furnish a most satisfactory meal, and a half hour
afterwards, when a soft, damp fog settled down upon the land, the
atmosphere became so quiet that the rubbing of every ice-cake against
the shore could be distinctly heard as I sank into a sweeter slumber
than I had ever experienced in the most luxurious bed of the daintiest
of guest-chambers, for my apartment, though small, was comfortable,
and with the hatch securely closed, I was safe from invasion by man or
beast, and enjoyed the well-earned repose with a full feeling of
security. The owl softly winnowed the air with his feathery pinions as
he searched for his prey along the beach, sending forth an occasional
to-hoot! as he rested for a moment on the leafless branches of an old
tree, reminding me to take a peep at the night, and to inquire "what
its signs of promise" were.
All was silence and security; but even while I thought that here at
least Nature ruled supreme, Art sent to my listening ear, upon the
dense night air, the shrill whistle of the steam-freighter, trying to
enter the ice-pack several miles down the river.
So the peaceful night wore away, and in the early dawn, enveloped in a
thick fog, I hastily dispatched a cold breakfast, and at half-past
eight o'clock pushed off into the floating ice, which became more and
more disintegrated and less troublesome as the day advanced. The use
of the soft bituminous coal in the towns along the river, and also by
the steamboats navigating it, filled the valley with clouds of smoke.
These clouds rested upon everything. Your five senses were fully aware
of the presence of the disagreeable, impalpable something surrounding
you. Eyes, ears, taste, touch, and smell, each felt the presence.
Smoky towns along the banks gave smoky views. Smoky chimneys rose high
above the smoky foundries and forges, where smoke-begrimed men toiled
day and night in the smoky atmosphere. Ah, how I sighed for a glimpse
of God's blessed sunlight! and even while I gazed saw in memory the
bright pure valleys of the north-east; the sparkling waters of lakes
George and Champlain, and the majestic scenery, with the life-giving
atmosphere, of the Adirondacks. The contrast seemed to increase the
smoke, and no cheerfulness was added to the scene by the dismal-
looking holes in the mountain-sides I now passed. They were the
entrances to mines from which the bituminous coal was taken. Some of
them were being actively worked, and long, trough-like shoots were
used to send the coal by its own gravity from the entrance of the mine
to the hold of the barge or coal-ark at the steam-boat landing. Some
of these mines were worked by three men and a horse. The horse drew
the coal on a little car along the horizontal gallery from the heart
of the mountain to the light of day.
During the second day the current of the Ohio became less violent. I
fought a passage among the ice-cakes, and whenever openings appeared
rowed briskly along the sides of the chilly raft, with the intent of
getting below the frosty zone as soon as possible.
About half-past eight o'clock in the evening, when some distance above
King's Creek, the struggling starlight enabled me to push my boat on
to a muddy flat, destined soon to be overflowed, but offering me a
secure resting-place for a few hours. Upon peeping out of my warm nest
under the hatch the next day, it was a cause of great satisfaction to
note that a rise in the temperature had taken place, and that the ice
was disappearing by degrees.
An open-air toilet, and a breakfast of about the temperature of a
family refrigerator, with sundry other inconveniences, made me wish
for just enough hot water to remove a little of the begriming results
of the smoky atmosphere through which I had rowed.
At eleven o'clock, A. M., the first bridge that spans the Ohio River
was passed. It was at Steubenville, and the property of the Pan-Handle
Railroad.
Soon after four o'clock in the afternoon the busy manufacturing city
of Wheeling, West Virginia, with its great suspension bridge crossing
the river to the state of Ohio, loomed into sight.
This city of Wheeling, on the left bank of the river, some eighty
miles from Pittsburgh, was the most impressive sight of that dreary
day's row. Above its masses of brick walls hung a dense cloud of
smoke, into which shot the flames emitted from the numerous chimneys
of forges, glass-works, and factories, which made it the busy place it
was. Ever and anon came the deafening sound of the trip-hammer, the
rap-a-tap-tap of the rivet-headers' tools striking upon the heavy
boiler-plates; the screeching of steam-whistles; the babel of men's
voices; the clanging of deep-toned bells. Each in turn striking upon
my ear, seemed as a whole to furnish sufficient noise-tonic for even
the most ardent upholder of that remedy, and to serve as a type for a
second Inferno, promising to vie with Dante's own. Yet with all this
din and dirt, this ever-present cloud of blackness settling down each
hour upon clean and unclean in a sooty coating, I was told that
hundreds of families of wealth and refinement, whose circumstances
enabled them to select a home where they pleased, lingered here,
apparently well satisfied with their surroundings. We are, indeed, the
children of habit, and singularly adaptable. It is, perhaps, best that
it should be so, but I thought, as I brushed off the thin layer of
soot with which the Wheeling cloud of enterprise had discolored the
pure white deck of my little craft, that if this was civilization and
enterprise, I should rather take a little less of those two
commodities and a little more of cleanliness and quiet.
At Wheeling I left the last of the ice-drifts, but now observed a new
feature on the river's surface. It was a floating coat of oil from the
petroleum regions, and it followed me many a mile down the stream.
The river being now free from ice, numerous crafts passed me, and
among them many steam-boats with their immense stern-wheels beating
the water, being so constructed for shallow streams. They were
ascending the current, and pushing their "tows" of two, four, and six
long, wide coal-barges fastened in pairs in front of them. How the
pilots of these stern-wheel freighters managed to guide these heavily
loaded barges against the treacherous current was a mystery to me.
It suddenly grew dark, and wishing to be secure from molestation by
steamboats, I ran into a narrow creek, with high, muddy banks, which
were so steep and so slippery that my boat slid into the water as fast
as I could haul her on to the shore. This difficulty was overcome by
digging with my oar a bed for her to rest in, and she soon settled
into the damp ooze, where she quietly remained until morning.
[Coal-oil stove.]
During this part of my journey particularly, the need of a small coal-
oil stove was felt, as the usual custom of making a camp-fire could
not be followed for many days on the upper Ohio River. The rains had
wet the fire-wood, which in a settled and cultivated country is found
only in small quantities on the banks of the stream. The driftwood
thrown up by the river was almost saturated with water, and the damp,
wild trees of the swamp afforded only green wood.
In a less settled country, or where there is an old forest growth, as
along the lower Ohio and upon the banks of the Mississippi, fallen
trees, with resinous, dry hearts, can be found; and even during a
heavy fall of rain a skilful use of the axe will bring out these
ancient interiors to cheer the voyager's heart by affording him
excellent fuel for his camp-fire.
The recently perfected coal-oil stove does not give out disagreeable
odors when the petroleum used is refined, like that known in the
market as Pratt's Astral Oil. This brand of oil does not contain
naphtha, the existence of which in the partially refined oils is the
cause of so many dangerous explosions of kerosene lamps.
Recent experiences with coal-oil burners lead me to adopt, for camp
use, the No.0 single-wick stove of the "Florence Machine Co.," whose
excellent wares attracted so much attention at the Centennial
Exhibition in Philadelphia. The No. 0 Florence stove will sustain the
weight of one hundred and fifty pounds, and is one of the few
absolutely safe oil stoves, with perfect combustion, and no unpleasant
odor or gas. This statement presupposes that the wicks are wiped along
the burnt edges after being used, and that a certain degree of
cleanliness is observed in the care of the oil cistern. I do not stand
alone in my appreciation of this faithful little stove, for the
company sold forty thousand of them in one year. In Johnson's
Universal Cyclopdia, Dr. L. P. Brockett, of Brooklyn, N.Y., expresses
himself in the most enthusiastic terms in regard to this stove. He
says: "For summer use it will be a great boon to the thousands of
women whose lives have been made bitter and wretched by confinement in
close and intensely heated kitchens; in many cases it will give health
for disease, strength for weakness, cheerfulness for depression, and
profound thankfulness in place of gloom and despair."
Boatmen and canoeists should never travel without one of these
indispensable comforts. Alcohol stoves are small, and the fuel used
too expensive, as well as difficult to obtain, while good coal-oil can
now be had even on the borders of the remote wilderness. The economy
of its use is wonderful. A heat sufficient to boil a gallon of water
in thirty minutes can be sustained for ten hours at the cost of three
cents.
For lack of one of these little blessings--which the prejudice of
friends had influenced me to leave behind--my daily meals for the
first two or three weeks generally consisted of cold, cooked canned
beef, bread and butter, canned fruits, and cold river water. The
absence of hot coffee and other stimulants did not affect my appetite,
nor the enjoyment of the morning and evening repasts, cold and
untempting as they were. The vigorous day's row in the open air, the
sweet slumbers that followed it at night in a well-ventilated
apartment, a simple, unexciting life, the mental rest from vexatious
business cares, all proved superior to any tonic a physician could
prescribe, and I became more rugged as I grew accustomed to the duties
of an oarsman, and gained several pounds avoirdupois by the time I
ended the row of twenty-six hundred miles and landed on the sunny
shores of the Gulf of Mexico.
Sunday broke upon me a sunless day. The water of the creek was too
muddy to drink, and the rain began to fall in torrents. I had
anticipated a season of rest and quiet in camp, with a bright fire to
cheer the lonely hours of my frosty sojourn on the Ohio, but there was
not a piece of dry wood to be found, and it became necessary to change
my position for a more propitious locality; so I rowed down the stream
twelve miles, to Big Grave Creek, below which, and on the left bank of
the Ohio, is the town of Moundsville. One of the interesting features
of this place is its frontage on a channel possessing a depth of
fifteen feet of water even in the dryest seasons. Wheeling, at the
same time of the year, can claim but seven feet. Here, also, is the
great Indian mound from which it derives its name.
The resting-place of my craft was upon a muddy slope in the rear of a
citizen's yard which faced the river; but when the storm ended, on
Monday morning, my personal effects were hidden from the gaze of
idlers by securely locking the hatch, which was done with the same
facility with which one locks his trunk--and the former occupant was
at liberty to visit the "Big Grave."
I walked through the muddy streets of the uninteresting village to the
conspicuous monument of the aboriginal inhabitant of the river's
margin. It was a conical hill, situated within the limits of the town,
and known to students of American pre-historic races as the "Grave
Creek Mound." This particular creation of a lost race is the most
important of the numerous works of the Mound Builders which are found
throughout the Ohio Valley. Its circumference at the base is nine
hundred feet, and its height seventy feet. In 1838 the location was
owned by Mr. Tomlinson, who penetrated to the centre of the mound by
excavating a passage on a level with the foundation of the structure.
He then sank a shaft from the apex to intercept the ground passage.
Mr. Tomlinson's statement is as follows:
"At the distance of one hundred and eleven feet we came to a vault
which had been excavated before the mound was commenced, eight by
twelve feet, and seven in depth. Along each side, and across the ends,
upright timbers had been placed, which supported timbers thrown across
the vault as a ceiling. These timbers were covered with loose unhewn
stone common to the neighborhood. The timbers had rotted, and had
tumbled into the vault. In this vault were two human skeletons, one of
which had no ornaments; the other was surrounded by six hundred and
fifty ivory (shell) beads, and an ivory (bone) ornament six inches
long. In sinking the shaft, at thirty-four feet above the first, or
bottom vault, a similar one was found, enclosing a skeleton which had
been decorated with a profusion of shell beads, copper rings, and
plates of mica."
Dr. Clemmens, who was much interested in the work of exploration here,
says: "At a distance of twelve or fifteen feet were found numerous
layers composed of charcoal and burnt bones. On reaching the lower
vault from the top, it was determined to enlarge it for the
accommodation of visitors, when ten more skeletons were discovered.
This mound was supposed to be the tomb of a royal personage."
At the time of my visit, the ground was covered with a grassy sod, and
large trees arose from its sloping sides. The horizontal passage was
kept in a safe state by a lining of bricks, and I walked through it
into the heart of the Indian sepulchre. It was a damp, dark, weird
interior; but the perpendicular shaft, which ascended to the apex,
kept up an uninterrupted current of air. I found it anything but a
pleasant place in which to linger, and soon retraced my steps to the
boat, where I once more embarked upon the ceaseless current, and kept
upon my winding course, praying for even one glimpse of the sun, whose
face had been veiled from my sight during the entire voyage, save for
one brief moment when the brightness burst from the surrounding gloom
only to be instantly eclipsed, and making all seem, by contrast, more
dismal than ever.
It would not interest the general reader to give a description of the
few cities and many small villages that were passed during the descent
of the Ohio. Few of these places possess even a local interest, and
the eye soon wearies of the air of monotony found in them all. Even
the guide-books dispose of these villages with a little dry detail,
and rarely recommend the tourist to visit one of them.
One feature may be, however, remarked in descending the Ohio, and that
is the ambition displayed by the pioneers of civilization in the west
in naming hamlets and towns--which, with few exceptions, are still of
little importance--after the great cities of the older parts of the
United States, and also of foreign lands. These names, which occupy
such important positions on the maps, excite the imagination of the
traveller, and when the reality comes into view, and he enters their
narrow limits, the commonplace architecture and generally unattractive
surroundings have a most depressing effect, and he sighs, "What's in a
name?" We find upon the map the name and appearance of a city, but it
proves to be the most uninteresting of villages, though known as
Amsterdam. We also find many towns of the Hudson duplicated in name on
the Ohio, and pass Troy, Albany, Newburg, and New York. The cities of
Great Britain are in many instances perpetuated by the names of
Aberdeen, Manchester, Dover, Portsmouth, Liverpool, and London; while
other nations are represented by Rome, Carthage, Ghent, Warsaw,
Moscow, Gallipolis, Bethlehem, and Cairo. Strangely sandwiched with
these old names we find the southern states represented, as in
Augusta, Charleston, &c.; while the Indian names Miami, Guyandot,
Paducah, Wabash, and Kanawha are thrown in for variety.
In the evening I sought the shelter of an island on the left side of
the river, about three miles above Sisterville, which proved to be a
restful camping-place during the dark night that settled down upon the
surrounding country.
Tuesday being a rainy day, I was forced by the inclemency of the
weather to seek for better quarters in a retired creek about three
miles above the thriving town of Marietta, so named in honor of Maria
Antoinette of Austria.
The country was now becoming more pleasing in character, and many of
the islands, as I floated past them on the current, gave evidence of
great fertility where cultivation had been bestowed upon them. Some of
these islands were connected to one shore of the river by low dams,
carelessly constructed of stones, their purpose being to deepen the
channel upon the opposite side by diverting a considerable volume of
water into it. When the water is very low, the tops of these dams can
be seen, and must, of course, be avoided by boatmen; but when the Ohio
increases its depth of water, these artificial aids to navigation are
submerged, and even steamboats float securely over them.
On Wednesday the river began to rise, in consequence of the heavy
rains; so, with an increased current, the duck-boat left her quarters
about eleven o'clock in the forenoon. Early in the afternoon,
Parkersburgh, situated at the mouth of the Little Kanawha River, in
Virginia, came into view. This is the outlet of the petroleum region
of West Virginia, and is opposite the little village of Belpr, which
is in the state of Ohio. These towns are connected by a massive iron
bridge, built by the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad Company.
Two miles below Belpr lay the beautiful island, formerly the home of
Blennerhasset, an English gentleman of Irish descent, of whom a most
interesting account was given in a late number of Harper's Magazine.
Mr. Blennerhasset came to New York in 1797, with his wife and one
child, hoping to find in America freedom of opinion and action denied
him at home, as his relations and friends were all royalists, and
opposed to the republican principles he had imbibed. Here, on this
sunny island, under the grand old trees, he built a stately mansion,
where wealth and culture, combined with all things rich and rare from
the old world, made an Eden for all who entered it.
Ten negro servants were bought to minister to the daily needs of the
household. Over forty thousand dollars in gold were spent upon the
buildings and grounds. A telescope of high power to assist in his
researches, books of every description, musical instruments, chemical
and philosophical apparatus, everything, in fact, that could add to
the progress and comfort of an intellectual man, was here collected.
Docks were built, and a miniature fleet moored in the soft waters of
the ever-flowing Ohio. Nature had begun, Blennerhasset finished; and
we cannot wonder when we read of the best families in the neighboring
country going often thirty and forty miles to partake of the generous
hospitality here offered them. Mrs. Blennerhasset, endowed by nature
with beauty and winsome manners, was always a charming and attractive
hostess, as well as a true wife and mother.
For eight years Blennerhasset lived upon his island, enjoying more
than is accorded to the lot of most mortals; but the story of his
position, his intelligence, his wealth, his wonderful social influence
upon those around him, reached at length the ear of one who marked him
for his prey.
Aaron Burr had been chosen vice-president of the United States in
1800, with Thomas Jefferson as president; but in 1804, when Jefferson
was re-elected, Burr was not. The brain of this brilliant but ill-
balanced and unprincipled man was ever rife with ambitious schemes,
and the taste of political power in his position as vice-president of
the United States seemed to have driven him towards the accomplishment
of one of the boldest and most extravagant dreams he ever imagined.
Mexico he thought could be wrested from Spain, and the then almost
unpeopled valleys of the Ohio and Mississippi taken from the United
States. This fair region, with its fertile soil and varied climate,
should be blended into one empire. On the north, the Great Lakes
should be his boundary line, while the Gulf of Mexico should lave with
its salt waters his southern shores. The high cliffs of the Rocky
Mountains should protect the western boundary, and on the east the
towering Alleghanies form a barrier to invading foe.
Such was the dream, and a fair one it was. Of this new empire, Aaron
Burr would of course be Imperator; and the ways and means for its
establishment must be found. The distant Blennerhasset seemed to point
to the happy termination of at least some of the difficulties. His
wealth, if not his personal influence, must be gained, and no man was
better suited to win his point than the fascinating Aaron Burr. We
will not enter into the plans of the artful insinuator made to enlist
the sympathies of the unsuspecting Englishman, but we must ever feel
sure that the cloven foot was well concealed until the last, for
Blennerhasset loved the land of his adoption, and would not have
listened to any plan for its impoverishment. His means were given
lavishly for the aid of the new colony, as Burr called it, and his
personal influence made use of in enlisting recruits. Arms were
furnished, and the Indian foe given as an excuse for this measure.
Burr during this time resided at Marietta, on the right bank of the
river, fifteen miles above Blennerhasset's Island. He occupied himself
in overseeing the building of fifteen large bateaux in which to
transport his colony. Ten of these flat-bottomed boats were forty feet
long, ten feet wide, and two and a half feet deep. The ends of the
boats were similar, so that they could be pushed up or down stream.
One boat was luxuriously fitted up, and intended to transport Mr.
Blennerhasset and family, proving most conclusively that he knew
nothing of any treasonable scheme against the United States.
The boats were intended to carry five hundred men, and the energy of
Colonel Burr had engaged nearly the whole number. The El Dorado held
out to these young men was painted in the most brilliant hues of
Burr's eloquence. He told them that Jefferson, who was popular with
them all, approved the plan. That they were to take possession of the
immense grant purchased of Baron Bastrop, but that in case of a war
between the United States and Spain, which might at any time occur, as
the Mexicans were very weary of the Spanish yoke, Congress would send
an army to protect the settlers and help Mexico, so that a new empire
would be founded of a democratic type, and the settlers finding all on
an equality, would be enabled to enrich themselves beyond all former
precedent.
About this time rumors were circulated that Aaron Burr was plotting
some mischief against the United States. Jefferson himself became
alarmed, knowing as he so well did the ambition of Burr and his
unprincipled character. A secret agent was sent to make inquiries in
regard to the doings at Blennerhasset's Island and Marietta. This
agent, Mr. John Graham, was assured by Mr. Blennerhasset that nothing
was intended save the peaceful establishment of a colony on the banks
of the Washita.
Various reports still continued to greet the public ear, and of such a
nature as to make Blennerhasset's name disliked. Some said treason was
lurking, and blamed him for it. He was openly spoken of as the
accomplice of Burr. The legislature of Ohio even made a law to
suppress all expeditions found armed, and to seize all boats and
provisions belonging to such expeditions. The governor was ready at a
moment's notice to call out the state militia. A cannon was placed on
the river-bank at Marietta, and strict orders given to examine every
boat that descended the stream.
Mr. Blennerhasset had no idea of resisting the authorities, and gave
up the whole scheme, determined to meet his heavy losses as best he
might.
Four boats, with about thirty men, had been landed upon
Blennerhasset's Island a short time before these rigorous measures had
been taken. They were under the care of Mr. Tyler, one of Burr's
agents from New York, and he did all in his power to urge
Blennerhasset not to retire at so critical a moment. It was, however,
too late to avert calamity, and the unfortunate family was doomed to
misfortune.
The alarming intelligence now reached the island that the Wood County
militia was en route for that place, that the boats would be seized,
the men taken prisoners, and probably the mansion burned, as the most
desperate characters in the surrounding country had volunteered for
the attack. Urged by his friends, Blennerhasset and the few men with
him escaped by the boats. His flight was not a moment too soon, for
having been branded as a traitor, no one knows what might have
befallen him had the lawless men who arrived immediately after his
departure found him in their power. Colonel Phelps, the commander of
the militia, started in pursuit, and the remainder of his men, with no
one to restrain them, gave full play to their savage feelings. Seven
days of riot followed. They took possession of the house, broke into
the cellars, and drank the choice wines, until, more like beasts than
men, they made havoc of the rich accumulation of years. Everything was
destroyed. The paintings, the ornaments, rare glass and china, family
silver, furniture, and, worst vandalism of all, the flames were fed
with the choicest volumes, many of which never could be duplicated,
for the value of Blennerhasset's library was known through all the
country.
Mrs. Blennerhasset had remained upon the island during this week of
terror, hoping by her presence to restrain the lawless band, but the
brave woman was at last obliged to fly with her two little sons,
taking refuge on one of the flat river boats sent by a friend to
afford her a way of escape.
Mr. Blennerhasset was afterwards arrested for treason, but no evidence
could be found against him, and he was never brought to trial. He
invested the little means left him in a cotton plantation near
Natchez, where, with his devoted wife, he tried to retrieve his fallen
fortunes. The second war with England rendered his plantation
worthless, and returning by way of Montreal to his native land, he
died a broken-hearted man, leaving his wife in destitute
circumstances. An attempt was made by her friends to obtain some
return for the destruction of their property from the United States
government, but all proved of no avail, and she who had always been
surrounded by wealth and luxury, was, during her last hours, dependent
upon the charity of a society of Irish ladies in New York city, who
with tenderness nursed her unto the end, and then took upon themselves
the expenses of her interment.
Such is the sad story of Blennerhasset and his wife; and I thought, as
I quietly moored my boat in a little creek that mingled its current
with the great river, near the lower end of the island which was once
such a happy home, of the uncertainty of all earthly prosperity, and
the necessity there was for making the most of the present,--which
last idea sent a sleepy sailor hastily under his hatch.
[Indian mound, at Moundsville, West Virginia.]