Letter III.
TO THE EDITOR OF THE PRÉCIS HISTORIQUES, BRUSSELS.
Travels in the Great Desert, 1851.
UNIVERSITY OF ST.LOUIS, Jan. 18, 1852.
T*****:
The mouth of the river Platte, or Nebraska, is the point of division between the Upper and Lower Missouri. To the early navigators on the river it was a kind of equinoctial, where, as at sea, the Neptunian tribute was exacted of all pork-eaters, as all were styled who visited the desert for the first time. No one could escape.
The flat country, or the valley of the Missouri, is covered with dense forests extending from the bank of the river to the high hills that skirt it on either side for from four to six 'miles in width. The forests are successively replaced by flourishing cities, fine villages, and thousands of beautiful farms. This alluvial soil is probably unequalled on the earth for the richness of some of its productions. The wood is in great demand.- As the country is settled and trade becomes more important, steam-mills increase and prepare all kinds of timber and boards; the steamboats, too, consume immense quantities of wood.
Between the Nebraska and the Wasecha, or Vermillion, for about four hundred miles the forests are vast and beautiful, often intersected by rich prairies of turf and verdure. This contrast delights the traveller. Every time he enters the desert he cannot refrain from admiring this succession of forests and plains, this series of hills which encircle them and present such a variety of forms,-here and there covered with trees and underwood of a thousand kinds, sometimes rising, bold, rugged cliffs, to the height of one or two hundred feet, and then noble plains, ascending gradually, with scattered groves, so pleasing to the sight that art seems to have crowned the work of Nature. We wonder that we do not see farms, barns, and fences. Surely, one just from Europe would think himself on the domestic of some great lord, and would be amazed at not seeing the mansion and its appurtenances.
Nature seems to have lavished its gifts on this region ; and without being a prophet, I can predict a future far unlike the past for this desert. The words of the Psalmist will be soon applied-"The earth was created for the abode of man, and to manifest the glory and perfection of the Lord."
These plains, naturally so rich and verdant, seem to invite the husbandman to run the furrow, and promise an amply reward to the slightest toil. Heavy forests await the wood man, and rocks the stone-cutter. The sound of the axe and hammer will echo in this wilderness; broad farms, with orchard and vineyard, alive with domestic animals and poultry, will cover these desert plains, to provide for thick-coming cities, which will rise as if by enchantment, with dome and tower, church and college, school and house, hospital and asylum.
I speak here principally of the region from the mouth of the river Kansas to that of the Niobrarah or Eau qui coule, and extending beyond the Black Hills, continuing along their crest to the Rocky Mountains, thence it follows southwardly the already existing limits of Utah, New Mexico, and Texas. This region contains several large rivers, with numerous tributaries, the principal of which are the Platte, the two rivers just named, and the head-waters of the Arkansas, Osage, and Red. These present the greatest inducements to civilization.
Will not the President of the Republic, like some of his predecessors, pluck some plumes from the Indian eagle, once the emblem of their greatness and power, to place them in the crown composed of the trophies of his administration? In the limits which I trace be will find an extent of country vast enough to be represented by three or four stars more of the first magnitude, which will enhance the lustre of the galaxy of the flag of the Union. This great territory will hold an immense population, destined to form several great and flourishing States.
But, then, what will become of the Indians, who have already come from afar to abide in this land? What will become of the aborigines, who have possessed it from time immemorial? This is, indeed, a thorny question, awakening gloomy ideas in the observer's mind, if he has followed the encroaching policy of the States in regard to the Indian. I have remarked with pleasure one ray of hope in the future for these poor and wretched tribes. They readily send their children to school; they make rapid progress in agriculture, and even in several of the most necessary mechanical arts; they carefully raise poultry and domestic animals. We may then hope that the sad remnant of these numerous nations, who once covered America, now reduced to earn their bread in the sweat of their brow (for they can no longer subsist by hunting), will find an asylum, a permanent abode, and will be incorporated with all the rights of citizens of the Union. It is their only remaining chance of well-being; humanity and justice seem to demand it for them. If they are again repelled and banished further inland, they will perish infallibly. The Indians who refuse to submit or accept the definitive arrangement, alone favorable to them, would resume the wandering life of the plains, and close their sad existence as the bison and other animals on which they live, vanish.
In the neighborhood of the Mankizitah, or White-earth River, the hills are blackened, and evidently owe this appearance to subterraneous fires. The soil is light and sterile for about a hundred miles; the high hills have little verdure, and the bottom or valley is very narrow. Some of the hills may even be called mountains.
The islands of the Missouri are, in general, well wooded, and present on all sides most agreeable views. On some is found the red cedar, the most durable wood of the country, lashing longer than guy other when plunged in water or buried in earth. If we except the space between the Niobrarah and Mankizitah, where the low prairies are rare., and where the upland is almost entirely unwooded, this district bas many fine sites, which seem to invite the pioneer, and say, "The time is not far off; here you will raise your cabin and till your field." Coal is also very abundant, and will supply the failure of the forests.
From the Mankizitah to the great bend of the Missouri, and thence to Fort Mandan, and even above the mouth of the Yellowstone, on both banks, the country is very fine ; the fertile soil gives most abundant crops. here and there, on the banks of the great rivers, the forests are pretty fine, while in the upland plains, as you recede from the river, the country is destitute of trees, and even of bushes.
In my visits to the Indian tribes, I have several times traversed the immense plains of the West. I have travelled over various sections, from the frontiers to the Pacific, and
from the Hudson's Bay territory, along the Saskatchewan and Athabasca, to Great Salt Lake, now the head-quarters of the Mormons. Every time that I have travelled over these plains, I have found myself amid a painful void: Europe's thousands of poor, who cry for bread, and wander without shelter or hope, often occur to my thoughts. "Unhappy poor," I often cry, "why are ye not here? Your industry and toil would end your sorrows. Here you might rear a smiling home, and reap in plenty the fruit of your
toil?" Yes, this void exists; and when I say it must be filled by an industrious and persevering population, I concur with the experience of all travellers.
It would be impossible for me to describe the sombre silence that reigns in this vast desert. You may pass weeks there, on the march, without meeting a living soul. And
yet we become habituated to it-like it. Solitude seems to give scope to man's intellectual faculties; the mind seems more vigorous, the thought clearer. It has always seemed to me that when one travels over the plains, be feels more inclined to prayer, meditation, confidence in God, more disposed to resign himself into the hands of Him who alone is our refuge amid perils, and who alone can provide for all our wants. Doubtless the removal of all bustle and business, the constant clangers to which we are exposed from wild animals and enemies, liable to be met at every step, contribute to this.
It has often been remarked that the songs of the birds are . more sweet and agreeable here than in the forests of the east. This phenomenon is capriciously attributed to the effects of society. From the scarcity of wood, the birds are forced to perch on the same tree, or seek the same grove, and thus teach each other. It is commonly supposed that the birds in Europe are better singers than those in America: can this be attributed to any other cause than that just given ?
If you would have an idea of the topography, vastness, and extent of our western plains, imagine France, Germany, Belgium changed into one single prairie, along watercourses, and intersected here and there by a wood of small extent, or by a very small forest.
You will excuse these little digressions on the localities I have traversed. They will show, withal, to our unbelievers in Europe, that science and civilization may find their account in voyages undertaken for the good of souls and the glory of the Church. And then, too, all these fair and varied objects make us incessantly bless heaven, and say, with the Psalmist, “ The earth is the Lord's, and the fulness thereof."
At last we reached the Great Bend, where the boat came to land opposite a camp of Iantons, a powerful tribe of the Sioux nation. As soon as these Indians perceived us, they broke out into cries of joy, and honored our arrival by several volleys of musketry. Their women bad prepared a great quantity of dry wood; we accepted it thankfully, air(] they received in return a present of tobacco, lead, flour, coffee, and sugar-the articles they prize most.
The Indians gave us the sad tidings of the ravages which the small-pox was then causing at Post Bonis and its neighborhood, near Little Medicine River, which empties into the Missouri at the upper bay of the Great Bend. This bend is thirty-six miles in circumference, while it is only four miles across by land. At my request, the captain put me ashore, and two hours after I was among the sick. I spent the night with them, giving them all the consolation in my power. Some believed that the disease resembled the great plague in London. The survivors long retained black spots. Even during this contagious disease, the Indians retained their old custom of giving a last abode to the dead, by placing the body, wrapped in a blanket or buffalo-robe, on scaffolds raised eight or ten feet above the plain. They left them thus exposed to the burning beat of a July sun, the most intense of the year. The pestilential exhalations of these corpses infected the air for miles around.
They showed me in their camp a little orphan boy who bad been attacked, and who, given up, bad been turned out of the lodge in the midst of the night, during a fearful rain, by his adoptive father, a cruel and unfeeling man. He was still alive in the morning, when a Canadian perceived him, and, like the good Samaritan, carried him to his but and lavished the most constant care on him. I had the pleasure to see him recovering, and to baptize him.
Some days after, I was at Fort Pierre, situated on the shore, south of the Missouri, about 1500 miles above St. Louis, and near the mouth of the Schicah, or Bad River. The influenza had existed for some time in the fort, and a panic had seized many at the news that the small-pox was in the neighborhood, and the cholera on board. In fact, immediately after we started, the last broke out and carried off many. The Indians, awe-struck at the approach of danger from this implacable scourge, were overjoyed at my presence; the children of the whites and of the Indians encamped around the fort were presented to me, to the number of eighty-two, to be regenerated in the holy waters of baptism.
The same inquietude reigned at the post of the Arickaras. Some couriers had announced the approach of the boat, and spread alarm by reporting that there were contagious diseases on board. But when the people saw that all, were well, their fears vanished, and they welcomed the boat with the usual demonstrations on such occasions. Cries of joy burst from two thousand mouths; volleys of cannon and musketry rolled echoing over the plains. The scene was beautiful and imposing. The fort stands on a high hill, nearly a hundred feet above the level of the river. A long row of Indians, in their gayest costumes, their faces daubed with various colors, lined the shore.
I had galloped on in advance of the boat, to have time to instruct the half-breeds and Canadians, and baptize all their children. I spent two days among them. A great number of Indians, learning of my arrival at the fort, came to shake hands with me from respect, and to bid me welcome.. At the same time they earnestly begged me to grant their little children the same benefit of baptism that I had granted the half-breed children. I yielded to their wishes, in consequence of the great clanger in which they were. The number of baptisms was about two hundred. Not long after, I heard that the cholera had swept through the village of the Arickaras, and that many of the children had fallen victims. What a consolation, that, by the sacrament, I unlocked the gates of heaven to them !
We now bade farewell to the officers of the fort, to plunge further into the desert. Ere long we passed the Mandan village, composed of large huts covered with earth. This once numerous nation is now reduced to a few families, the only survivors of the small-pox of 1838. Their village lies 1.800 miles above the month of the Missouri, two hundred below the mouth of the Yellowstone. Some days after, we stopped at Fort Berthold, to land some goods at the great village of the Minataries, or Osier tribe, nicknamed the Gros Ventres of Missouri. Their cabins are built like those of the Arick aras and Mandans. Four forks, or rather four forked trees, set in the ground, about twenty feet apart, form a square. These are joined on top by cross-pieces, over which other pieces are laid obliquely, leaving a great opening in the centre, to admit air and give vent to the smoke; these pieces are woven together with osiers : the whole is covered with hay and earth-not with turf, however. An opening is made on one side to receive the door, which consists of a bisonskin. Before the door is a sort of alley, ten or fifteen feet long, inclosed by pickets, and easily defended in case of attack. In the middle of the lodge, under the upper opening which admits the light, a hole about a foot deep is dug to answer as a fireplace. Around the lodge there are beds, one, two, or three feet from the floor, with doe-skins as cur tains. The whole village is surrounded by a high and strong pallsade of large trees, squared.
The Minataries raise Indian-corn, squashes, beans, and potatoes. The other permanent villages on the Missouri are those of the Osages, Omahas, Ponkahs, Pawnees, Arickaras, and Mandans. The Minataries are of the same stock as the Crows, and speak about the same language. They say that they separated in consequence of a dispute between two chiefs, over a bison that both claimed to have killed on a hunt.
The great chief of the latter village, called Four Bears, is the most civil and affable Indian that I met on the Missouri. Be begged me to baptize his two children and several members of his family. All the children of this tribe had been baptized by Rev. Mr. Bellecourt, a zealous and untiring missionary of the Vicariate Apostolic of Red River, which is under the jurisdiction of Mgr. Provencher. Rev. Mr. Bellecourt bas visited these tribes several times, and met with great success in disposing thorn in favor of our holy religion. I learned, to my consolation, that, in all probability a mission would be soon established there, with one or two resident priests, under the direction of Mgr. Provencher.
The place is admirably well chosen, and the benefits of religion will easily spread thence among the neighboring nations, such as the Mandans, Arickaras, and Assiniboins. These tribes evince great eagerness to bear the word of God and to be instructed in our holy faith, whenever a Catholic missionary visits them. In Europe, the preachers and catechists must use a thousand means to win auditors; here men call priests to instruct them. They are eager for this nourishment of the soul, this word of God, that so many others despise! What an awful account of this heavenly benefit must be one, day rendered by men of all ages, especially the young, for whom religions teaching abounds in the churches, colleges, and schools of Europe !
On the 14th of July, the steamboat St. Ange reached our destination, Fort Union. This post is situated at 48° N. I had then to make all my preparations and take all my precautions for my long journey on land. Yet, withal, I found time to instruct and baptize twenty-nine little children, between Fort Union and Fort William, which are only three miles apart. I said mass daily at the fort, and gave an -instruction.
Yours, &c.,
P. J. DE SMET, S. J.