missionaries living among the Sioux of the Mississippi, who, like many
of their profession, devoted their whole lives to spreading the gospel
of Christ among the savages. They were those of Dr. Williamson and the
Rev. Stephen R. Riggs, both of whom had lived with these Indians long
before I came among them. When I first became connected with these
Indians I found the missionaries comfortably installed at the Yellow
Medicine agency, with quite a village around them. They had dwelling
houses, and a commodious schoolhouse, where they took Indian children at
a very early age, with a view of civilizing and Christianizing them.
They had also a very pretty church, with a steeple on it, and a bell in
the steeple, and all the other buildings necessary for the complete and
efficient operation of their laudable undertaking. They were full of
zeal and enthusiasm in the cause, and had progressed to a point where it
looked to an outsider as if success was only a question of a short time,
if it was not already an accomplished fact. The Bible had been
translated into the Sioux language, and they had hymn books and
catechisms in the same language. They had learned to speak Sioux
thoroughly, and could preach and sing in that language. Many is the time
I have attended church at the little meeting house, and heard the simple
old Presbyterian hymns sung to the tunes that have resounded for
generations through the meeting houses of New England. It was a most
solemn and impressive spectacle, in the heart of the Indian country, to
see a Christian church filled with devout worshippers all in the costume
of savagery, and to listen to the oft-told story of the Saviour who died
that man might live. Such a scene carries with it a much more convincing
proof of the universality of the Christian religion than a church full
of fashionably dressed people in a great city. It suggests its limitless
application to all the human race, even if dwelling in the remotest part
of the earth.
The experience of these good missionaries had taught them that
civilization was the most potent auxiliary to religion, and, for the
success of either, the other was a necessary aid and adjunct when
dealing with these primitive people. So they set themselves to work to
devise plans to instill into the Indians the elemental principles of
government based on law. They organized a little state or community
among them, through which they endeavored to prove to them the
advantages of civilized rule through the agency of officers of their own
choice and laws of their own making. They called their state "The
Hazelwood Republic," which embraced all the missionary establishment,
and all the Indians they could induce to unite in the enterprise. They
drew a written constitution, the provisions of which were to govern and
direct the conduct of the members and the workings of the community. Of
course, the fundamental principles upon which the whole fabric rested
were similar to those taught by the ten commandments. The Indians, with
the advice of the missionaries, elected a president for the young
republic, and the choice fell upon a wise and upright man, about fifty
years of age, whose name was Ma-za-cu-ta-ma-mi, or "The man who shoots
metal as he walks," and to give the matter a more pronounced
ecclesiastical aspect, they added a scriptural name by way of a prefix
to the names of all the officers. For instance, they called the
president, Paul Ma-za-cu-ta-ma-mi, and one of the deacons, Simon
Ana-wang-ma-ni, which means "The man who can keep up with any moving
object;" or, as things turned out in the end, it could well have been
translated into the "Fast Man."
The first act necessary for initiation as a citizen of the republic was
cutting off the long hair universally worn by the Sioux, and if any act
could be taken as indicative of sincerity, this one seemed to be
conclusive. It is quite as much of a sacrifice for an Indian to cut off
his hair as it would be for a young lady in society possessed of a
splendid suit of hair to cut it off short and appear at a grand ball
with her head thus denuded.
The next step was to wear a hat, and exchange the breech-clout for
pantaloons, and the blanket for a shirt or coat. Notwithstanding this
terrible ordeal of naturalization, the population of the republic
increased, and the church was well attended. The praying and singing was
participated in quite generally by the members, and the future republic
looked promising. One of the most exemplary citizens and devout
worshippers was deacon Simon Ana-wang-ma-ni. He led in prayer, and
labored heart and soul for the good of the republic and the church. He
was the last man that anyone would have expected to fall from grace, and
no one ever thought of such a thing; but, strange as it may appear, he
one day sought an interview with the missionaries, and announced the
astounding fact that an Indian who had killed his cousin some eight
years before had returned from the Missouri river country, and he
thought it was his duty to kill him in retaliation. The astonishment of
the missionaries may be well imagined. They cited to him the
commandment, "Thou shalt not kill," and dwelt upon the awful sinfulness
of such an act, and he would say, "I know what the Bible says, and I
believe in Sundays, but he killed my cousin." Then they would attack him
on the laws of the republic of which he was a high official, and dwell
upon the dreadful example such an act would set before the brethren of
the church, and he would reply, "Oh, yes; I know all that; but he killed
my cousin." Then, in despair, they would tell him that he was no longer
an Indian; that he had become a white man, and the laws of the white man
forbid such revenge. "I know all that," he would say, "but he killed my
cousin." As a final resort, the faithful and believing missionaries
concluded to call in the aid of heaven to assist them, and they prayed
with Simon for hours, days and nights, in all of which he joined with
fervor and unction; but he could not divest himself of the all-pervading
idea that his cousin had been killed, and the sacred duty had devolved
upon him to avenge his death. This belief had been born in him, and no
religion of the white man could eradicate it. True to the creed of his
ancestors, he got a double-barrelled shotgun and went out and killed his
enemy.
Of course, this murder opened up a new feud, arraying relative against
relative, and destroyed Simon's influence as a deacon in the church and
an officer of the republic to such a degree as almost to destroy all the
good that both had accomplished. I mention this incident to show what
uncertain ground the missionaries find to sow the seeds of Christianity
in when working among savages.
Notwithstanding such discouragements as the above, I believe much good
was done through the efforts of the missionaries. In times of great
trouble and excitement I always found the best friends of the whites
among the Indians who had felt the enlightening influences of the
missionaries, not excepting Simon, who with Paul, John Otherday, and
many others, performed heroic services for the whites when friends were
most needed; but I have never been able to settle the question in my
mind as to whether any of them ever grasped the principles of the
Christian religion.
In 1862 the Sioux openly rebelled against the whites, and it was solely
through the good offices of Otherday and Paul that these missionaries
escaped massacre. All their buildings and their labor of long years were
destroyed, and they were driven out of the country. Most people would
have thought that they would have had enough of such a life. I know I
thought so, but not so with these devoted people. Shortly after the
suppression of the outbreak I met Dr. Williamson, and asked him what
were his future intentions. Without the least hesitation he answered
that he would look up the remnant of his tribe, and continue his work.
All the heroes are not found in the ranks of the fighters.
* * * * *
NOTE.--The reader of both the history and the frontier stories
will notice that many of the facts stated in the history are
repeated in the stories. I decided to insert both because the
different way in which they are related led me to believe that
the elimination of either would detract from the interest of
the work.
THE AUTHOR.
AN ACCOMPLISHED RASCAL.
In the late fifties a young man of very attractive manners and
extraordinary accomplishments appeared in St. Peter. His name was La
Croix, or at least he said it was, and no questions were asked. We had
not at that time acquired the habit of asking newcomers what names they
went by in the States, as was the usual practice in the early settlement
of Texas and California. We were an unsuspicious people, and accepted
those who settled among us for what they said they were and appeared to
be.
It was soon discovered that La Croix spoke French fluently; nearly all
our first settlers were French. He said he learned it while living in
New Orleans. He soon developed a large acquaintance with military
matters, and we made him captain of our militia company (now the
national guard), and he drilled us up to a high state of discipline and
skill in company tactics and movements. I had the honor of being second
lieutenant of the company. This art, he said, he acquired as sergeant of
a company in the crack New York Seventh.
He was a graceful and adroit fencer, and could explain the difference
between the French system and the American plan as taught at West Point.
I learned both from him. His conversational powers and the extent of his
general knowledge surpassed anything that ever graced the border. In a
word, he possessed all the qualities, including personal beauty, that
were necessary to make him a general favorite with both men and women.
He did not fail to improve all his advantages.
He soon became the trusted bookkeeper for one of our business concerns,
courted and married a lovely young girl from a neighboring town, and
settled down to a life of domestic felicity, esteemed by all, questioned
by none.
Shortly after his marriage the Civil War began, and in due course of
time a baby was born to his house. Shortly after the latter event he
announced that news had arrived that certain stock of the Chemical Bank,
in New York, which he had inherited from his father, who had died in New
Orleans, was in danger of confiscation by the federal government as
rebel property, and he was obliged to go East and take care of it. He
made the most elaborate preparations for the comfort of his wife and
child during his absence, and departed. We gave him a splendid send-off,
and several of us, I among the rest, entrusted him with commissions to
perform for us in New York, and for a long time that was the last we
heard of La Croix.
Of course, there were many who said, "I told you so," but they had not
done anything of the kind; we were all taken in without exception. His
wife was the last to lose confidence in his return. I followed up every
clue she could give me, but without results. He had disappeared as
completely as if the ground had opened and swallowed him up, and we
forgot him.
The war was fought out, and peace returned. A Connecticut regiment,
commanded by Colonel Brevet Brigadier General Thompson (I will call him
that for certain reasons) was mustered out in one of the chief cities of
that state, and nothing was too good for its gallant commander. He was
sought after socially, and by the business community, and soon became as
popular as La Croix had been in St. Peter. He married one of the most
beautiful and aristocratic young ladies of the state, and was appointed
to the position of general inspector of agencies of one of the great
insurance companies of Connecticut, and he decided to improve the
opportunity of his first tour as a pleasant way of passing his
honeymoon. So he started west with his confiding wife.
I forgot to mention that, when La Croix reached St. Paul, after leaving
St. Peter, he drew and cashed a small draft of a few hundred dollars on
his employer, and appropriated the proceeds.
Thompson's luck seemed to have deserted him on his wedding trip, as, on
arriving at Cleveland, Ohio, a citizen of St. Peter met and recognized
him as his old friend La Croix, and not knowing he was a brigadier
general slapped him familiarly on the shoulder and said: "Hello, La
Croix; I am glad to see you." The general was immensely indignant, and
spurned his new found friend, which angered the latter exceedingly, and
he at once telegraphed to St. Peter, and received a reply to have the
party arrested and held, which he did. The general wired to his
principals, setting forth his difficulty, saying it was all a case of
mistaken identity. They instructed their agent in Cleveland to go
General Thompson's bail for any amount required, which was done, and he
at once started for home to procure evidence, leaving his wife to await
his return, and that was the last seen of General Thompson for many
years. I believe, however, he was once recognized in Vienna.
Time passed; the West grew and expanded; many new states were added to
the Union; many immigrants were attracted to its fertile fields and
booming cities, very few of their number hailing from either Minnesota
or Connecticut. Among them, however, was a gentleman of most attractive
mien. He went into the real estate business, and greatly prospered. His
varied accomplishments soon made him the most popular man in his state.
He united with the political party which held the power. He married an
attractive young woman, and settled down to a quiet and respectable
domesticity. In the course of events a United States senator was to be
elected, and what was more natural than that this intelligent,
respectable and popular citizen should be considered a worthy candidate.
The legislature convened, his prospects of election were more than
promising, and he would undoubtedly have been chosen had not some
meddlesome fellow recognized him as the long lost La Croix. Of course,
he disappeared, and this time, permanently.
The moral of this story is, that it is better, as a general thing, to
find out what name people went by in the States before you either marry
them or elect them to the United States senate.
AN ADVOCATE'S OPINION OF HIS OWN ELOQUENCE IS NOT ALWAYS RELIABLE.
In the early days of the territory a large part of the legal business
arose out of misunderstandings about claim lines and the attempts of
settlers to jump the claims of other people. These suits usually took
the shape of trespass and forcible entry and detainer. In some instances
they ripened into assaults and batteries, and were generally tried
before justices of the peace. Nearly all the people were French, and
that language was quite as usually spoken as English. The town of
Mendota was almost exclusively French and half-breed Sioux, the latter
speaking French if they deviated from their native tongue. One of our
earliest lawyers was Jacob J. Noah, from New York. He was the son of a
very celebrated journalist of that city, and was a very cultured and
accomplished gentleman. He spoke French like a native, which, no doubt,
had a good deal to do with his living at Mendota. That town boasted of a
justice of the peace, who occupied an exalted position in the estimation
of the French inhabitants, on account of his learning and established
character for justice and fair dealing. He was a handsome old gentleman,
with white hair and beard and impressive judicial manner. About the year
1855, among the new arrivals in the legal fraternity, was Mr. John B.
Brisbin, also from New York. He was a graduate of Yale, and acquainted
with some of the leading lawyers in St. Paul, so his advent was
announced with a good many flourishes, and he soon took a leading stand
in the profession. Mr. Brisbin was a cultured and eloquent lawyer, and
no one knew it better than himself. He settled in St. Paul. Soon after
his arrival a controversy arose between a couple of settlers in Dakota
county about their claim boundaries, and a suit was brought before the
French justice at Mendota. Major Noah represented the plaintiff and the
defendant employed Mr. Brisbin. It being Brisbin's first appearance in
court, he made extraordinary preparations, intending to create a
favorable impression. He discovered some fault in the law of the
plaintiff's case, and when the parties met in court, he demurred to the
plaintiff's complaint, and made an exhaustive argument in support of his
position. He was fortified with numerous citations from English and New
York cases, all of which he read to the court. When he would become
particularly impressive, the court would evince signs of deep interest,
which convinced the speaker that he was carrying everything before him.
When he finished his argument, he looked at his adversary with a
confident and somewhat exultant expression, as if to say, "Answer that
if you can."
The major opened his case to the court in French, and had hardly begun
before Mr. Brisbin interposed an objection, that he did not understand
French, and that legal proceedings in this country had to be conducted
in English. The major answered by saying: "I am only interpreting to the
court what you have been saying." Mr. Brisbin indignantly replied: "I
don't want any interpretation of my argument; I made myself perfectly
clear in what I said." "Oh, yes," said the major, "you made a very clear
and strong argument; but his honor, the judge, does not understand a
single word of English," which was literally true. Tradition adds that
when the court adjourned, the judge was heard to ask the major: "Est ce
qu'il y a une femme dans cette cause la?" Whether the court decided the
case on the theory of there being a woman in it or not, history has
failed to record.
A MOMENTOUS MEETING.
The people of St. Paul have often been proud of a remark which was made
by Hon. Wm. H. Seward, in a speech delivered by him in 1860, at the old
capitol on Wabasha street, where he said he believed that the center of
power on the North American continent would be very near the spot where
he stood. Everybody, while they liked the prediction, looked upon it as
a pleasant way the speaker had of giving his hosts and St. Paul a little
"taffy," and nothing more. Such, however, was not the case, and Mr.
Seward, when he uttered the prophecy, was thoroughly impressed with the
truth of what he said, as I will prove further on.
This speech was delivered on the 18th of September, 1860. If I remember
correctly, Mr. Seward was on an electioneering tour in support of
Lincoln's candidacy for the presidency, and that Hon. James W. Ney of
New York, afterwards governor of Nevada, was of the party; but I am not
very sure of these facts, and they are not at all material to the point
I am about to make. Mr. Seward stayed at the Merchant's Hotel, at the
foot of Jackson street, kept by our well known host, Colonel Allen,
while he remained in St. Paul.
Many of the older settlers will remember James W. Taylor of St. Paul,
who, for many years, represented the United States as consul at
Winnipeg. Mr. Taylor was the most popular man in that city. He was not
only esteemed for his superior ability as an official, but was beloved
by all classes of the people for his gentle and genial manners. He was a
great friend of Bishop Anderson of Rupert's Land, who, for twenty years,
had performed the duties of missionary bishop of that far away country.
He had travelled the McKenzie river to its mouth in the Arctic ocean. He
had been all over Alaska, up and down the Yukon, and, in fact, knew more
about the vast country that lies north and northwest of the United
States than any living man at the date we are speaking of. It so
happened that the bishop and Consul Taylor were on a visit to St. Paul
at the time of the arrival of Mr. Seward, and were also guests at the
Merchant's Hotel. They, of course, called on the distinguished American,
Mr. Seward, who became deeply interested in the conversation of the
bishop about his travels through this vast upper region, and was so
impressed with the immensity and future possibilities of the country
that he forgot all about his appointment to speak at the capitol, and
kept his audience waiting for nearly an hour before he could tear
himself away from the fascination of the bishop's conversation.
The topic Mr. Seward had selected for his speech was one in which he was
profoundly interested. It was, "The Duty, Responsibility, and Future
Power of the Northwest," which was a magnificent subject for discussion
by such a thoughtful statesman. Before meeting Bishop Anderson, Mr.
Seward had conceived certain theories on the question, as the quotation
which I shall make from his speech clearly establishes, and that these
preconceived ideas had been, by his intercourse with the bishop,
radically changed, if not thoroughly overthrown, seems equally clear. It
must be remembered that, in 1860, very little was known about Alaska and
the British possessions in the far northern regions, and it is quite
possible that even a man of Mr. Seward's learning may not have included
them in his calculations for the future. Of course, what he said about
his preconceived conclusions, and the subsequent changes made in them,
involved the fact of the absorption into the United States of the whole
continent, which in all probability will happen at some future time.
When Mr. Seward arrived at the capitol, he was introduced by John W.
North, and, among other things, said:
"In other days, studying what might perhaps have seemed to
others a visionary subject, I have cast about for the
future--the ultimate central power of the North American people.
I have looked at Quebec and New Orleans, at Washington and at
San Francisco, at Cincinnati and St. Louis, and it has been the
result of my last conjecture that the seat of power of North
America would yet be found in the Valley of Mexico,--that the
glories of the Aztec capital would be renewed, and that city
would become ultimately the capital of the United States of
America. But I have corrected that view, and I now believe that
the last seat of power on this great continent will be found
somewhere within a radius of not very far from the very spot
where I now stand, at the head of navigation on the Mississippi
river and on the great Mediterranean lakes."
When and where had this correction been made? Doubtless an hour before,
at the Merchant's Hotel, through the influence of the interview with
Bishop Anderson. While at the capitol they visited the rooms of the
Historical Society, where the bishop made a short address to Mr. Seward,
to which Mr. Seward responded. Now, all this might have happened, and
been of no particular interest to the world, except as a pleasant
episode between two distinguished men. But in this instance it turned
out to be of vital importance to three of the greatest nations of the
world. Mr. Seward was so deeply impressed with the St. Paul incident
that, immediately after his return to Washington, he opened negotiations
with the Russian government for the purchase of Alaska, and persistently
carried them on, until he succeeded in acquiring that vast empire for a
mere bagatelle of seven or eight millions of dollars. This remarkable
prevision of Mr. Seward has stamped its effect on our present and future
destiny and relations with England, Canada, Russia and perhaps all the
nations of the Orient. Had not Mr. Seward visited St. Paul on that exact
day, would this great change have been made in the map of North America?
It certainly would not after the discovery of gold in Alaska. So I claim
that Minnesota played an all-important role in the purchase of Alaska.
Having spoken of my dear old friend, James W. Taylor, I cannot omit to
mention a most touching tribute paid to his memory by the people of
Winnipeg. The municipality has placed upon the walls of its city hall a
fine portrait of the faithful consul, under which hangs a basket for the
reception of flowers. Every spring each farmer entering the city plucks
a wild flower, and puts it in the basket. The great love of a people
could not be expressed in a more beautiful and pathetic manner, and no
man was more worthy of it than Consul Taylor.
A PRIMITIVE JUSTICE.
The lands west of the Mississippi river, in Minnesota, were the property
of the Sioux Indians until treaties were made with them in 1851, by
which they ceded them to the United States, but these treaties were not
fully ratified until 1853, on account of amendments which deferred final
action. But immigration was pouring into the territory, and it naturally
found a lodgment on the west side of the river, from the Iowa line up to
Fort Snelling, and gradually extended up the Minnesota river to Mankato.
Of course, all the settlers on the Indian lands were trespassers, and as
the lands were unsurveyed, no claim rights could be acquired, but the
settlers did the best they could to mark their claims, and gain what
right they could by possession. The usual and best way of marking claim
lines, was by running a plow furrow around the land. When the prairie
was once broken, the line was indelible, because an entirely new growth
would spring up in the furrow that never could be eradicated.
In 1854 a law of congress was passed, by which settlers in Minnesota
were given rights in unsurveyed lands, their claims to be adjusted to
the surveyed lines, when they were run, "as near as may be."