great weight of his influence as a Senator toward the employment in such
explorations of a member of his family by marriage, John Charles
Frémont, whose ability and inclinations specially suited him for the
scientific examination and exploration of the trans-Mississippi region.
[Illustration: John Charles Frémont.]
Born January 21, 1813, at Savannah, Ga., Frémont entered Charleston
College, where his disregard of discipline prevented his graduating,
although the faculty later honored him with the degrees of Bachelor and
Master of Arts. Well grounded in the classics and familiar with the
ordinary astronomical methods of determining latitude and longitude,
Frémont visited South America on the United States ship Natchez, as a
teacher. Later, appointed a professor of mathematics in the navy, he
declined the position to accept more congenial service as assistant
engineer of the United States Topographic Corps, where he had
experience in preliminary surveys of railroads and also in a military
reconnoissance among the Cherokees in Georgia. Commissioned in the
United States Army, in 1838, as second lieutenant in the Topographic
Corps, his initial service was fortunately as principal assistant to I.
N. Nicolet, in the survey of the country between the Mississippi and the
Missouri. Nicolet, an able and distinguished engineer, was the first
explorer in America who made general use of the barometer for
determining elevations of the great interior country, and his map of
this region was one of the greatest contributions ever made to American
geography.
[Illustration: Jessie Benton Frémont.]
In 1841 Frémont married Jessie Benton, a daughter of Senator Benton,
through whose influence Frémont was assigned to the command of the
expedition ordered to explore the country between the Missouri River and
the Rocky Mountains on the line of the Kansas and Platte Rivers.
In May, 1842, while Frémont was on the frontier making preparations for
the journey, there came, as Mrs. Frémont relates, an order recalling him
to Washington. Mrs. Frémont sent a special messenger to her husband,
advising him to move immediately for good and sufficient reasons, to be
given later. Meanwhile, holding the letter, she wrote the colonel who
had given the order for the recall that she had neither forwarded the
order nor informed Frémont of it, as she knew that obedience thereto
would ruin the expedition. On such a small thread of circumstances hung
the fate of his first separate command, which brought Frémont into such
great prominence in connection with the exploration and development of
the Pacific Coast region.
The journey of Frémont lay up the North Fork of the Platte, through
South Pass, into Wind River Valley, his march being marked by the usual
experiences of hardship and suffering inseparable from the time and
region. The most notable event of the journey was the ascent of the main
and highest peak of the Wind River range, now known as Frémont's Peak.
Their first attempts were unsuccessful, the party suffering from great
cold, excessive fatigue, and mountain fever resulting from the rarity of
the air. Frémont, however, persevered and succeeded. He describes the
final ascent as follows:
"We reached a point where the buttress was overhanging, and there was no
other way of surmounting the difficulty than by passing around one side
of it, which was the face of a vertical precipice of several hundred
feet. Putting hands and feet in the crevices between the blocks I
succeeded in getting over it, and when I reached the top found my
companions in a small valley below. Descending to them, we continued
climbing and in a short time reached the crest. I sprang upon the summit
and another step would have precipitated me into an immense snow-field
five hundred feet below. At the edge of this field was a sheer icy
precipice, and then, with a gradual fall, the field sloped off for about
a mile until it struck the foot of another lower ridge. I stood on a
narrow crest about three feet in width. As soon as I had gratified the
first feelings of curiosity I descended, and each man ascended in turn,
for I would only allow one at a time to mount the unstable and
precarious slab, which it seemed a breath would hurl into the abyss
below. We mounted the barometer in the snow at the summit, and fixing a
ramrod in the crevice, unfurled the national flag to wave in the breeze
where never flag waved before." The elevation of this summit, as
determined by Frémont, was 13,570 feet.
His success on this expedition caused his most favorable reception by
the War Department on his return to the States.
[Illustration: Ascending Frémont's Peak.]
Frémont's second expedition contemplated the connection of his first
explorations with those made by Captain Wilkes on the Pacific Coast, so
as to give a connected survey across the interior of North America. The
party, which left Kansas City May 29, 1843, consisted of forty men,
equipped with twelve carts for transportation and a light wagon for
scientific instruments. The route followed was up the valley of the
Kansas River, thence by the South Fork of the Platte to the vicinity of
the present city of Denver. After considerable hesitation a northerly
route was taken, skirting the westerly limits of the great Laramie
plain, which brought Frémont to the emigrant trail in the vicinity of
the South Pass. The volume of travel toward the Pacific Coast even at
that early date may be estimated from his description of the Oregon
trail as "a broad smooth highway where the numerous heavy wagons of the
emigrants have entirely beaten and crushed the mountain sage."
Crossing Green River and following up Ham's Fork, Frémont reached the
valley of Bear River, the principal tributary of Great Salt Lake, which
was filled with emigrants travelling to the lower Columbia River.
Frémont expressed his surprise at the confidence and daring of the
emigrants as he met in one place "a family of two men and women and
several children travelling alone through such a country so remote from
civilization." Turning south from this point and quitting the travelled
road Frémont visited the Great Salt Lake, of which he says: "Hitherto
this lake had been seen only by trappers, who were wandering through the
country in search of new beaver streams, caring very little for
geography; its lands had never been visited, and none were to be found
who had entirely made the circuit of its shores, and no instrumental
observations or geographical survey of any description had ever been
made anywhere in the neighboring region. It was generally supposed that
the lake had no visible outlet, but among the trappers, including those
in my own camp, were many who believed that somewhere on its surface was
a terrible whirlpool, through which its waters found their way to the
ocean by some subterranean communication."
The lake was eventually reached from the lower part of Bear River in an
india-rubber canoe, by means of which Frémont also landed on a
mountainous island near the centre of the lake, where from an elevation
of eight hundred feet he was able to determine with considerable
accuracy the contours and extent of this remarkable body of water.
Instead of a tangled wilderness of shrubbery teeming with an abundance
of game, as the party expected, the island proved to be broken, rocky
land, some twelve miles in circumference, on which there was neither
water nor trees; a few saline shrubs and other hardy plants formed the
only vegetation. The lake is described as being enclosed in a basin of
rocky mountains, which sometimes leave grassy fields and extensive
bottoms between them and the shore, while in other places they come
directly down to the water in bold and precipitous bluffs. He speaks of
the water of the lake being at a low stage and the probabilities that
the marshes and low ground are overflowed in the season of high water.
Frémont says that "we felt pleasure in knowing that we were the first
who in the traditional annals of the country had visited the island and
broke with joyful sounds the long solitude." But in view of the
dissipation of his dream of fertility he named it Disappointment Island.
Turning northward Frémont reached, on September 18, 1843, Fort Hall,
Idaho, then a post under British control, whose original importance as
an Indian trading-post had been greatly enhanced by its location on the
emigrant route to Oregon, at a distance of over one thousand three
hundred miles from the then frontier settlement of Westport, Mo.
Following closely the emigrant trail Frémont, on October 8th, passed
Fort Boisé, then occupied by the Hudson Bay Company, and on the 25th of
the month arrived at another trading establishment of this company, at
the junction of the Walla Walla and Columbia Rivers. This was considered
by emigrants as the practical termination of their overland journey
since navigation down the river was rapid and convenient.
Frémont found many American emigrants at Fort Vancouver on his visit to
that post and also learned that others already occupied the adjacent
lowlands of the Willamette Valley. Moreover, these pioneers were not
confining their efforts to Oregon, for while small parties were pushing
southward through that valley to settlements in Northern California,
still others, making detours near Fort Hall, reached, by a more direct
route through passes in the Sierra Nevada, the banks of the Sacramento.
On November 10, 1843, Frémont left Vancouver to return to the United
States, having in view an entirely new route whereby he might be able to
complete the exploration of the great interior basin between the Rocky
Mountains and the Sierra Nevada. His party then consisted of
twenty-five. Leaving the Columbia at a point above The Dalles, Frémont
followed Des Chutes River to its source, and passing over to Lake
Klamath, contemplated a journey to and a winter camp on either Mary's
Lake or the mythical Buenaventura River. His trail brought him to Lake
Klamath, and later to Goose Lake, the source of the Sacramento. Winter
had now commenced; the weather in the mountains proved to be extremely
cold, snow-storms became frequent, and his search for Mary's Lake and
Buenaventura River proved fruitless and dangerous.
These mythical water-courses, which had been eliminated from the domain
of geography by Bonneville's map of 1837, proved indeed to be veritable
waters of the desert, mere mirages that nearly led Frémont to an
untimely fate. Frémont's frequent allusions in his field journal to
these imaginary streams show his then belief in their existence, which
appears extraordinary in view of existing publications. In Bonneville's
maps are charted with general accuracy the great interior basins of the
Great Salt, Mud, and Sevier Lakes, the Humboldt and Sevier Rivers. The
general extent and direction of the Willamette, Sacramento, and San
Joaquin Rivers are indicated, and the non-existence of the Buenaventura
and other hypothetical streams was conclusively determined. The
existence of these maps was generally known, and their absence from
Frémont's topographic outfit is remarkable; a most unfortunate omission,
as Benton in his "Thirty Years' View" describes Frémont's charts and
geographic information as "disastrously erroneous."
Struggling along in the snow through a forest of unknown extent, Frémont
halted, on December 16th, on the verge of a rocky precipice, from which
the party looked down more than one thousand feet upon a broad lake, the
most westerly waters of the great interior basin, which, from its
pleasing contrast to the wintry weather of the Sierra Nevada, they
called Summer Lake. Attempting to travel in an easterly direction
Frémont found himself beaten back by an impassable country, there being
rocky, sterile mountains on either side which obliged him to keep to the
south through a wild, barren, and uninhabited region. Frémont,
describing the country, says: "On both sides the mountains showed often
stupendous and curious-looking rocks, which at several places so
narrowed the valley that scarcely a pass was left for the camp. It was a
singular place to travel through--shut up in the earth, a sort of chasm,
the little strip of grass under our feet, the rough walls of bare rock
on either hand, and the narrow strip of sky above."
The year 1844 opened with the party in a forlorn and dispirited
condition, as they were practically lost in the tangle of the valleys
and mountains. The grass had become so scanty and unwholesome that the
overtaxed animals fell ill; some died and others were stolen by Indians,
so that the party lost fifteen head of stock by the time they reached
Pyramid Lake, where they camped from the 10th to the 16th of January.
Here they found grass abundant, fire-wood plentiful, and from an Indian
village they obtained salmon trout, a feast to the famished men. The
Indians indicated the general direction of the route out of the desolate
country, but no one would consent to accompany the party as guide. The
region traversed continued so rough and lamed the animals so badly that
on the 18th Frémont determined to abandon the easterly course, thinking
it advisable to cross the Sierra Nevada to the valley of the Sacramento
by the first practicable pass. Now and then a few Indians were met, and
finally a guide was obtained, who led them to the southward, over a low
range of mountains through a snow-covered pass into what proved to be
Carson Valley. The snow deepened and the country became so broken as to
make progress difficult, long, tedious detours necessary, and soon
travel was only possible along high and exposed ridges, which were
comparatively snow free. Finally it became necessary to abandon their
mountain howitzer at an impracticable cañon that led into a valley which
Frémont at first erroneously supposed to be to the westward of the
Sierra Nevada. Continuing on without a guide they met other Indians, who
stated it was impossible to cross the mountains on account of the deep
snow, but after much persuasion, and by means of large presents, an
Indian guide was finally induced to undertake the journey. Frémont,
fully conscious of the desperate conditions, which entailed the possible
death of all, endeavored to encourage his men by reminding them of the
contrast between the fast falling snow of the surrounding Sierra Nevada
and the flower-clad meadows in the adjacent valley of the Sacramento,
and informed them that his astronomical observations showed that they
were only sixty miles distant from Sutter's great establishment.
Their provisions were now practically exhausted; neither tallow, grease,
nor salt remained, and even their hunting dogs were killed for food.
Making the best of the situation their clothing and outfit were put in
the best of order, and on February 2d, crossing the frozen river on the
ice, the party commenced the ascent of the mountain, the men, Frémont
relates, being unusually silent over the hazardous and doubtful
enterprise. Ten men, mounted on the strongest horses, broke the road,
each man in succession opening the path, either on foot or on horseback,
until he and his horse became exhausted, when he dropped to the rear.
The very deep snow made it impossible to follow the main valley, and
they necessarily worked along steep and difficult mountain-sides. On the
third day the snow had become so deep that their best horses gave out
entirely, refusing to make further effort; the day ended with the party
at a stand-still and the camp equipage strewed along the route. Too
exhausted to make huts, they camped that night without shelter and
suffered bitterly from the unusual cold, as the temperature fell to
twenty-two degrees below freezing. Two Indians who had joined the party
expatiated on the impossibility of crossing at this point, and the
guide, influenced by them, deserted the party the next morning.
[Illustration: Kit Carson.]
Having obtained snow-shoes from the Indians, on February 6th, Frémont,
accompanied by Carson and Fitzpatrick, made a reconnoissance and reached
a high peak, from which Carson saw a little mountain to the westward
which he recognized as one seen by him fifteen years before, so that
confidence was somewhat restored. On examining the general depth of the
snow it was found to be five feet, but in places it proved to be twenty.
As this snow was plainly impracticable for the pack-train, sledges were
made for transporting the baggage, which was dragged forward by the men
with the expectation that the horses without load could break a path for
themselves. Unfortunately the weather turned bitterly cold, and the
temperature falling thirty-five degrees below the freezing-point, a
number of the men were frost-bitten.
Frémont, and indeed the whole party, now realized that the crossing of
the mountains into the valley of the Sacramento was a struggle for life,
but this in no wise disorganized the party. This desperate march lasted
during the whole of February. Finally Frémont with the advance party
reached Sutter's ranch on March 6th in a state of complete exhaustion;
help was immediately sent to the main party, which arrived a few days
later. Frémont's route across the mountains was practically through the
pass now crossed by the Central Pacific Railway, the descent into the
Sacramento being through the valley of the American River. In crossing
the Sierras not less than thirty-four out of the sixty-seven horses died
of exhaustion or were killed for food, the meat of these animals being
the only resource against starvation.
One of the party, De Rossier, became insane on March 1st, and Frémont
says: "Hunger and fatigue joined to weakness of body and fear of
perishing in the mountains had crazed him. The times were severe when
stout men lost their minds from extremity of suffering, when horses
died, when mules and horses ready to die of starvation were killed for
food, yet there was no murmuring or hesitation."
Sutter's Fort, on the Sacramento, was then the most important American
establishment in California; the fort itself was an adobe structure
defended by twelve pieces of artillery. Sutter had a large force in his
employ engaged in farming his extensive wheat-fields, in milling
operations, in blacksmith- and other work-shops.
One might have thought that Frémont would have delayed long in the
delightful climate and conditions that obtained at Sutter's, but such
was not the nature of the man. The entire party were reunited at
Sutter's Fort on March 8th, and under Frémont's well-directed efforts,
in the short space of fourteen days the starving band was reorganized,
remounted, and equipped fully for instant march. The return journey was
to be through the pass at the head of the San Joaquin River, discovered
by Walker, whose name was affixed to it by Frémont. Crossing the Sierra
Nevada the party struck the Spanish trail, which was then followed by
all wagon-trains or mounted parties travelling to and fro between Los
Angeles and Santa Fé. The region over which they passed was desolate in
the extreme, the road rough and rocky, grass scanty and poor, while
water was found only in holes and at long distances, In pointing to it,
Frémont's Spanish guide well states: "There are the great plains; there
is found neither water nor grass--nothing; every animal which goes upon
them dies."
The party had to undergo not only terrible discomforts arising from the
physical conditions of the country, but was also harassed by hostile
Indians, who stole some of their stock. The expedition fortunately
escaped with the loss of only one man, although parties in advance and
in their rear were plundered and slaughtered. Speaking of their
travelling alone in twenty-seven days a distance of five hundred and
fifty miles through this inhospitable region, Frémont comments, that
although their lonely journey gave them the advantage of more grass, yet
they "had the disadvantage of finding also the marauding savages who had
gathered down upon the trail, waiting the approach of their prey. This
greatly increased our labors, besides costing us the life of an
excellent man. We had to move all day in a state of watch and prepare
for combat, scouts and flankers out, a front and rear division of our
men, and baggage animals in the centre. At night camp duty was severe;
those who had toiled all day had to guard by turns the camp and horses
all night. Frequently one-third of the whole party were on guard at
once, and nothing but this vigilance saved us from attack. We were
constantly dogged by bands and even whole tribes of the marauders."
Reaching, in Southern Utah, the head-waters of the Virgin River, where
Santa Fé trains usually halt to recruit the strength of their animals in
its grassy meadows, Frémont was joined by the famous trapper, Joseph
Walker, who consented to serve as guide in the departure to the
northeastward, as they now quitted the Spanish trail. Frémont then
skirted the eastern edge of the great interior basin and visiting Sevier
and Utah Lakes, thus completed practically the circuit of the basin. He
then turned eastward through the valleys of the Du Chesne and Green
Rivers, tributaries to the Colorado, and pushing through the very heart
of the Rocky Mountains, by the way of the pass near Leadville, at an
elevation of eleven thousand two hundred feet, he reached the Arkansas
Valley June 29, 1844.
His journey eastward across the great Kansas plains was of an easy
character, and the 31st of July, 1844, saw his expedition safe at
Independence, Mo. He had been absent fourteen months, during which time
he had travelled some six thousand five hundred miles, the greater part
of his journey being through the most barren and inhospitable regions of
North America.
[Illustration: Lake Klamath.]
The character and extent of Frémont's astronomical and other physical
observations on this long, arduous, and dangerous journey constituted
the great value of his exploring work. In few instances did it fall to
Frémont's lot to first explore any section of the country, but it was
his good fortune, as it was his intent, to first contribute systematic,
extended, and reliable data as to climate, elevation, physical
conditions, and geographical positions. The hypsometrical work begun by
Frémont culminated, indeed, in the unparalleled collation of elevations
by Gannett; his climatic observations have been perfected by the Signal
Corps; his astronomical and geological data have been overwhelmed by the
magnificent collections and field work of the United States Coast and
Geodetic and Geological Surveys; but it is to be noted that Frémont's
observations, which he gave in detail, were so honest and good that they
have withstood successfully the test of hostile examination. Frémont's
scientific spirit was strikingly exemplified in this terrible
mid-winter journey through the mountains of Nevada, when observations
for time, latitude, elevation, or temperature were daily and regularly
made despite snow, extreme cold, and physical weakness from
semi-starvation.
On the recommendation of General Winfield Scott, in a special report,
the unprecedented honor of double brevets--of first lieutenant and
captain--was conferred on Frémont for gallant and highly meritorious
services in connection with these two expeditions.
Frémont's third expedition consisted of sixty men. They left Bent's
Fort, on the Arkansas, August 16, 1845. Its object, as far as
exploration was concerned, included a survey of the head-waters of the
Arkansas, Rio Grande, and Rio Colorado, the basin of the Great Salt Lake
and the practicable passes of the Cascade and southern Sierra Nevada.
It was during this journey that Frémont quite fully surveyed the
southern shores of Salt Lake. The water was then at an unusually
low--possibly at its lowest known--level, and having been informed by
the Indians that it was fordable to Antelope Island, Frémont with Kit
Carson rode to the island, the water nowhere reaching above the
saddle-girths of their horses.