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WESTERN CHARACTERS . „^ 
 
 OR 
 
 TYPES OF BORDER LIFE 
 
 IN THE 
 
 WESTERN STATES 
 
 BY J. L. McCONNEL 
 
 AUTHOR OF "TALBOT AND VEBNON,' — "THE GLENNS," ETC. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY DARLEY 
 
 fe^.ri.- 
 
 '/■ 
 
 fi 
 
 R E D F I E L D, 
 
 110 AND 112 NASSAU STREET, NEW Y O R IL 
 
 1853. 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853, 
 
 Br J. S, REDFIELD, 
 
 in the C]erk*8 OfBce of the District Court of the United States, in and f<» 
 the Southern District of New York. 
 
 STEREOTYPED BY C. C. SAVAGE, 
 13 Chambers Street, N. Y. 
 
PEEFATOET ITOTE. 
 
 Attempts to delineate local character are always 
 liable to misconstruction ; for, the more truthful the 
 sketch, the greater is the number of persons, to whom 
 resemblance may be discovered ; and thus, while in 
 fact only describing the characteristics of a class, 
 authors are frequently subjected, very unjustly, to 
 the imputation of having invaded the privacy of in- 
 dividuals. Particularly is this so, when the class 
 is idealized, and an imaginary type is taken, as the 
 representative of the species. 
 
 I deem it proper, therefore, to say in advance, 
 that no attempt has been made in the following 
 pages, to portray any individual; and that — al- 
 though I hope I have not been so unsuccessful, as 
 to paint pictures which have no originals — if there 
 be a portrait in any sketch, it consists, not in the 
 likeness of the picture to the person, but of both to 
 the type. 
 
 As originally projected, the book would have 
 borne this explanation upon its face ; but the cir- 
 cumstances which have reduced its dimensions, and 
 
4: PREFATORY NOTE. 
 
 changed its plan, have also rendered necessary a 
 disclaimer, which would, otherwise, have been su- 
 perfluous. 
 
 One or two of the sketches might have been made 
 more complete had I been fortunate enough to meet 
 with certain late publications, in time to use them. 
 Such is the elaborate work of Mr. Schoolcraft upon 
 Indian History and Character ; and such, also, is 
 that of Mr. Shea, upon the voyages and labors of 
 Marquette — a book whose careful accuracy, clear 
 style, and lucid statement, might have been of much 
 service in wi'iting the sketch entitled " The Voya- 
 geur.^^ Unfortunately, however, I saw neither of 
 these admirable publications, until my work had as- 
 sumed its present shape — a fact which I regret as 
 much for my reader's sake as my own. 
 
 J. L. McO. 
 
 July 15, 1853. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Introductory • 
 
 L 
 The Indian ^^ 
 
 II. 
 The Voyageur *^ 
 
 m. 
 
 ' The Pioneer ^^^ 
 
 IV. 
 Y The Ranger ^^^ 
 
 V. 
 
 YI. 
 
 The Regulator ^^^ 
 
 The Justice of the Peace 246 
 
 VII. 
 
 The Peddler 268 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The Schoolmaster 288 
 
 IX. 
 
 The Schoolmistress ^^^ 
 
 X 
 X^ The Politiolin 340 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 " Our Mississippi, rolling proudly on. 
 
 Would sweep them from its path, or swallow up. 
 Like Aaron's rod, those streams of fame and song." 
 
 Mas. Hals. 
 
 The valley of a river like the channel of a 
 man's career, does not always bear proportion 
 to the magnitude or volume of the current, 
 which flows through it. Mountains, forests, 
 deserts, physical barriers to the former — and 
 the obstacles of prejudice, and accidents of 
 birth and education, moral barriers to the lat- 
 ter — limit, modify, and impair the usefulness 
 of each. A river thus confined, an intellect 
 thus hampered, may be noisy, fretful, turbu- 
 lent, but, in the contemplation, there is ever a 
 feeling of the incongruity between the purpose 
 and the power ; and it is only when the valley 
 is extended, the field of effort open, that we 
 can avoid the impression of energy wasted, and 
 strength frittered away. The great intellect, 
 
8 INTEODUCTORT. 
 
 whose scope is not confined by ancient land- 
 marks, or old prejudices, is tlms typified by the 
 broad, deep river, whose branches penetrate the 
 Earth on every hand, and add to the current 
 the tributaries of all climes. In this view, how 
 noble an object is the Mississippi ! 
 
 In extent, fertility, variety of scenery, and 
 diversity of climate, its valley surpasses any 
 other in the world. It is the great aorta of 
 the continent, and receives a score of tributary 
 rivers, the least of which is larger than the 
 vaunted streams of mighty empires. It might 
 furnish natural boundaries to all Europe, and 
 yet leave, for ever}^ country, a river greater than 
 the Seine. It discharges, in one year, more 
 water than has issued from the Tiber in five 
 centuries ; it swallows up near fifty nameless 
 rivers longer than the Thames ; the addition 
 of the waters of the Danube would not swell it 
 half a fathom ; and in a single bend, the navies 
 of the world might safely ride at anchor, five 
 hundred miles from sea. 
 
 It washes the shores of twelve powerful states, 
 and between its arms lies space enough for twen- 
 ty more. The rains which fall upon the Allega- 
 nies, and the snows that shroud the slopes and 
 cap the summits of the Rocky mountains, are 
 borne upon its bosom, to the regions of perpet- 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 9 
 
 ual summer, and poured into the sea, more than 
 fifteen hundred leagues from their sources. It 
 has formed a larger tract of land, by the de- 
 posites of its inundations, than is contained in 
 Great Britain and Ireland ; and every year it 
 roots up and bears away more trees, than there 
 are in the Black Forest. At a speed unknown 
 to any other great river, it rolls a volume, in 
 whose depths the cathedral of St. Paul's might 
 be sunk out of sight ; and five hundred leagues 
 from its mouth, it is wider than at thirty. 
 
 It annually bears away more acres than it 
 would require to make a German principality, 
 engulfing more than the revenues of many a 
 petty kingdom. Beneath its turbid w^aters lie 
 argosies of wealth, and floating palaces, among 
 whose gilded halls and rich saloons are sporting 
 slimy creatures ; bfelow your very feet, as you 
 sail along its current, are resting in its bed, 
 half buried in the sand, the bodies of bold men 
 and tender maidens ; and their imploring hands 
 are raised toward Heaven, and the world which 
 floats, unheeding, on the surface. There lies, 
 entombed, the son whose mother knows not of 
 his death ; and there the husband, for whose 
 footstep, even yet, the wife is listening — here, 
 the mother with her infant still clasped fondly 
 to her breast ; and here, united in their lives, 
 1* 
 
10 TNTEODTJCTORY. 
 
 not separated in their death, lie, side by side, 
 the bride and bridegroom of a day; — and, 
 hiding the dread secrets from all human ken, 
 the mighty and remorseless river passes on- 
 ward, like the stream of human life, toward 
 " the land of dreams and shadows !" 
 
 To the contemplative mind, there is, perhaps, 
 no part of the creation, in which may not be 
 found the seed of much reflection ; but of all 
 the grand features of the earth's surface, next to 
 a lofty mountain, that which impresses us most 
 deeply is a great river. Its pauseless flow, the 
 stern momentum of its current — its remorseless 
 coldness to all human hopes and fears — the se- 
 crets which lie buried underneath its waters, 
 and the myriad purposes of those it bears upon 
 its bosom — are all so clearly typical of Time. 
 The waters will not pause, though dreadful bat- 
 tles may be fought upon their shores — as Time 
 will steadily march forward, though the fate 
 of nations hang upon the conflict. The mo- 
 ments fly as swiftly, while a mighty king is 
 breathing out his life, as if he were a lowly 
 peasant ; and the current flows as coldly on, 
 while men are struggling in the eddies, as if 
 each drowning wretch were but a floating weed. 
 Time gives no warning of the hidden dangers 
 on which haughty conquerors are rushing, as 
 
INTRODUCTOKY. 11 
 
 the perils of the waters are revealed but in the 
 crashing of the wreck. 
 
 But the parallel does not stop here. The 
 sources of the Mississippi — were it even possi- 
 ble that they should ever be otherwise — are 
 still unknown to man. Like the stream of his- 
 tory, its head-springs are in the regions of fable 
 — in the twilight of remote latitudes; and it is 
 only after it has approached us, and assumed a 
 definite channel, that we are able to determine 
 which is the authentic stream. It flows from 
 the country of the savage, toward that of civi- 
 lization ; and like the gradations of improve- 
 ment among men, are the thickening fields and 
 growing cultivation, which define the periods 
 of its course. N^ear its mouth, it has reached 
 the culmination of refinement — its last ripe 
 fruit, a crowded city ; and, beyond this, there 
 lies nothing but a brief journey, and a plunge 
 into the gulf of Eternity ! 
 
 Thus, an emblem of the stream of history, it 
 is still more like a march along the highway 
 of a single human life. As the sinless thoughts 
 of smiling childhood are the little rivulets, 
 which afterward become the mighty river; 
 like the infant, airy, volatile, and beautiful — 
 sparkling as the dimpled face of innocence — 
 a faithful reflex of the lights and shadows of 
 
12 INTKODUCrOET. 
 
 existence; and revealing, through the limpid 
 wave, the golden sands which lie beneath. 
 Anon, the errant channels are united in one 
 current — 'life assumes a purpose, a direction — 
 but the waters are yet pure, and mirror on their 
 face the thousand forms and flashing colors of 
 Creation's beauty — as happy boyhood, rapidly 
 perceptive of all loveliness, gives forth, in radi- 
 ant smiles, the glad impressions of unfaded 
 youth. 
 
 Yet sorrow cometli even to the happiest. 
 Misfortune is as stern a leveller as Death ; and 
 early youth, with all its noble aspirations, gor- 
 geous visions, never to be realized, must often 
 plunge, like the placid river over a foaming 
 cataract, down the precipice of affliction — even 
 while its current, though nearing the abyss, 
 flow softly as " the waters of Shiloah." It may 
 be the death of a mother, whom the bereaved 
 half deemed immortal — some disappointment, 
 like the falsehood of one dearly loved — some 
 rude shock, as the discovery of a day-dream's 
 hollowness ; happy, thrice happy I if it be but 
 one of these, and not the descent from inno- 
 cence to sin ! 
 
 But life rolls on, as does the river, though its 
 wave no longer flows in placid beauty, nor re- 
 veals the hidden things beneath. Tlie ripples 
 
INTRODUCTOEY. 13 
 
 are now •v\jliirling eddies, and a hundred angry 
 currents chafe along the rocks, as thought and 
 feeling fret against the world, and waste their 
 strength in vain repining or impatient irrita- 
 tion. Tranquillity returns no more ; and 
 though the waters seem not turhid, there is 
 a shadow in their depths — their transparency 
 is lost. 
 
 Tributaries, great and small, flow in — acces- 
 sions of experience to the man, of weight and 
 volume to the river ; and, with force augment- 
 ed, each rolls on its current toward the ocean. 
 A character, a purpose, is imparted to the life, 
 as to the stream, and usefulness becomes an 
 element of being. The river is a chain which 
 links remotest latitudes, as through the social 
 man relations are established, binding alien 
 hearts : the spark of thought and feeling, like 
 the fluid of the magnet, brings together distant 
 moral zones. 
 
 On it rushes — through the rapids, where the 
 life receives an impulse — driven forward — 
 haply downward — among rocks and danger- 
 ous channels, by the motives of ambition, by 
 the fierce desire of wealth, or by the goad of 
 want ! But soon the mad career abates, for 
 the first efi'ect of haste is agitation, and the 
 master-spell of power is calmness. Happy are 
 
14 INTKODUCTORY. 
 
 tliey, who learn this lesson early — for, thence, 
 the current onward flows, a tranquil, noiseless, 
 but resistless, tide. Manhood, steady and ma- 
 ture, with its resolute but quiet thoughts, its 
 deep, unwavering purposes, and, more than all, 
 its firm, profound affections, is passing thus, be- 
 tween the shores of Time — not only working 
 for itself a channel broad and clear, but bear- 
 ing on its bosom, toward Eternity, uncounted 
 wealth of hopes. 
 
 But in the middle of its course, its character 
 is wholly changed ; a flood pours in, whose 
 waters hold, suspended, all impurities. A 
 struggle, brief but turbulent, ensues : the lim- 
 pid wave of youth is swallowed up. Some 
 great success has been achieved ; unholy pas- 
 sions are evoked, and will not be allayed ; 
 thenceforward there is no relenting ; and, 
 though the world — nay! Heaven itself! — 
 pour in, along its course, broad tributaries of 
 reclaiming purity, the cloud upon the waters 
 can never be dispelled. The marl and dross 
 of Earth, impalpable, but visibly corrupting, 
 pervade the very nature ; and only when the 
 current ceases, will its primitive transparency 
 return. 
 
 Still it hurries onward, with velocity aug- 
 mented, as it nears its term. Yet its breadth 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 15 
 
 is not increased ; tlie eartli suspended in its 
 waters, like the turbid passions of the human 
 soul, prevents expansion ;"''^ for, in man's career 
 through time, the heart grows wider only in 
 the pure. 
 
 Along the base of cliffs and highlands — 
 through the deep alluvions of countless ages — 
 among stately forests and across extended plains, 
 it flows without cessation. Beyond full man- 
 hood, character may change no more — as, be- 
 low its mighty tributaries, the river is unaltered. 
 Its full development is reached among rich plan- 
 tations, waving fields, and swarming cities ; 
 while, but the journey of a day beyond, it 
 rushes into Eternity, leaving a melancholy rec- 
 ord, as it mingles with the waters of the great 
 gulf, even upon the face of Oblivion. 
 
 — Within the valley of this river, time will see 
 a population of two hundred millions ; and here 
 will be the seat of the most colossal power 
 Earth has yet contained. The heterogeneous 
 character of the people is of no consequence : 
 still less, the storms of dissension, which now 
 and then arise, to affright the timid and faith- 
 less. The waters of all latitudes conld not be 
 blended in one element, and purified, without 
 
 * "Were it a clear stream, it would soon scoop itself out a 
 channel from bluff to bluff." — Flint's Geography, p. 103. 
 
16 INTKODUCTORT. 
 
 the tempests and cross-currents, which lash the 
 ocean into lurj. l^or would a stagnant calm- 
 ness, blind attachment to the limited horizon 
 of a homestead, or the absence of all irritation 
 or attrition, ever make one people of the emi- 
 igrants from every clime. 
 
 And, when this nation shall have become 
 thoroughly homogeneous — when the world 
 shall recognise the race^ and, above this, the 
 jpower of the race — will there be no interest in 
 tracing through the mists of many generations, 
 the outlines of that foundation on which is 
 built the mighty fabric ? Even the infirmities 
 and vices of the men who piled the first stones 
 of great empires, are chronicled in history as 
 facts deserving record. The portrait of an an- 
 cient hero is a treasure beyond value, even 
 though the features be but conjectural. How 
 much more precious would be a faithful por- 
 trait of his character^ in which the features 
 should be his salient traits — the expression, 
 outline, and complexion of liis nature ! 
 
 To furnish a series of such portraits — em- 
 bracing a few of the earlier characters, wliose 
 "mark" is traceable in \\\ii orrowinp- civilization 
 of the West and South — is the design of the 
 present work. The reader will observe that its 
 
INTEODUCTOKY. IT 
 
 logic is not the selection of actual, but of ideal, 
 individuals, each representing a class ; and that, 
 although it is arranged chronologically, the pe- 
 riods are not historical, but characteristic. The 
 design, then, is double ; first^ to select a class^ 
 which indicates a certain stage of social or pol- 
 itical advancement; and, second^ to present a 
 picture of an imaginary individual, who com- 
 bines the prominent traits, belonging to the 
 class thus chosen. 
 
 The series halts, beyond the Rubicon of con- 
 temporaneous portraiture, for very obvious rea- 
 sons ; but there are still in existence abundant 
 means of verifying, or correcting, every sketch. 
 I have endeavored to give the consciousness of 
 this fact its full weight — to resist the tempta- 
 tion (which, I must admit, was sometimes 
 strong) to touch the borders of satire ; and, in 
 conclusion, I can only hope that these wishes, 
 with an earnest effort at fidelity, have enabled 
 me to present truthful pictures. 
 
I. 
 
 THE INDIAN. 
 
 **In the eame beaten channel still have run 
 The blessed streams of human sympathy ; 
 And, though I know this ever hath been done, 
 The why and wherefore, I could never see 1" 
 
 Phebe Cabet. 
 
 In a work whicli professes to trace, even in- 
 iistinctly, the reclamation of a country from a 
 3tate of barbarism, some notice of that from 
 which it was reclaimed is, of course, necessary ; 
 and an attempt to distioguish the successive 
 periods, each by its representative character, 
 determines the logic of such notice. Were we 
 as well acquainted with the gradations of In- 
 dian advancement — for such unquestionably, 
 there were — as we are with those of the civil- 
 ized man, we should be able to distinguish eras 
 and periods, so as to represent them, each by 
 its separate ideal. But civilization and barbar- 
 ism are comparative terms ; and, though it is 
 
22 WESTERN CHAEACTEKS. 
 
 races are descendants of Asiatic emigrants ; and 
 the minor questions, as to the route they fol- 
 lowed — whether across the Pacific, or by Behr- 
 ing's strait — are merely subjects of curious 
 speculation, or still more curious research. And 
 this hypothesis is quite consistent with the evi- 
 dence drawn from Indian languages, customs, 
 and physical developments. Even the argu- 
 ments against the theory, drawn from differ- 
 ences in these particulars among the tribes, 
 lose their force, when we come to consider that 
 the same, if not wider differences, are found 
 among other races, indisputably of a single 
 stock. These things may be satisfactorily ac- 
 counted for, by the same circumstances in the 
 one case, as in the other — by political and 
 local situation, by climate, and unequal prog- 
 ress. Thus, the Indian languages, says Pres- 
 cott, in his " Conquest of Mexico," " present 
 the strange anomaly of differing as widely in 
 etymology, as they agree in organization ;" but 
 a key to the solution of the problem, is found 
 in the latter part of the same sentence : " and, 
 on the other hand," he continues,* "while they 
 bear some slight affinity to the languages of 
 the Old World, in the former particular, they 
 have no resemblance to them whatever, in the 
 
 *Vol. Ill,, page 394. 
 
THE INDIAN. 253 
 
 latter." This is as mucli as if he had said, that 
 the incidents to the lives of American Indians, 
 are totally different to those of the nations of 
 the Old World: and these incidents are pre- 
 cisely the circumstances, which are likely to 
 affect organization, more than etymology. And 
 the difficulty growing out of their differences 
 among themselves, in the latter, is surmounted 
 by the fact, that there is a sufficient general re- 
 semblance among them all, to found a compari- 
 son with " the languages of the Old World." 
 I believe, a parallel course of argument would 
 clear away all other objections to the theory.* 
 
 But, as has been said, the scope of our work 
 includes none of these discussions; and we 
 shall, therefore, pass to the Indian character, 
 abstracted from all antecedents. That this has 
 been, and is, much misunderstood, is the first 
 thought which occurs to one who has an oppor- 
 
 * There is, however, little necessity for any argument on the 
 subject: For, leaving out of the question the highest and 
 most sacred of authorities, almost all respectable writers upon 
 ethnology, including Buffon, Yolney, Humboldt, &c., agree in 
 assigning a common origin to all nations, — though the last 
 deduces from many particulars, the conclusion that the Amer- 
 ican Indian was " isolated in the infancy of the world, from 
 the rest of mankind." — Ancient Inhabitants of America, vol. 
 L, p. 260. 
 
24 WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 
 
 tunit J personallj to observe the savage. Kor is 
 it j ustly a matter of surprise. The native of this 
 continent has been the subject of curious and 
 unsatisfactory speculation, since the discovery 
 of the country by Columbus : by the very want 
 of those things, which constitute the attraction 
 of other nations, he became at once, and has 
 continued, the object of a mysterious interest. 
 Tlie absence of dates and facts, to mark the 
 course of his migration, remits us to conjecture, 
 or the scarcely more reliable resource of tradi- 
 tion — the want of history has made him a 
 character of romance. The mere name of In- 
 dian gives the impression of a shadowy image, 
 looming, dim but gigantic, through a darkness 
 which nothing else can penetrate. This mys- 
 tery not only interests, but also disarms, the 
 mind ; and we are apt to see, in the character, 
 around which it hovers, only those qualities 
 which give depth to the attraction. The crea- 
 tions of poetry and romance are usually ex- 
 tremes ; and they are, perhaps, necessarily so, 
 when the nature of the subject furnishes no 
 standard, by which to temper the conception. 
 
 " The efforts of a poet's imagination are, more 
 or less, under the control of his opinions ."" but 
 opinions of men are founded upon their history ; 
 and there is, properly, 7\o liistorical Indian 
 
THK 12\DIAN. 25 
 
 character. The consequence lias been, that 
 poets and novelists have constructed their sav- 
 age personages according to a hypothetical 
 standard, of either the virtues or vices, belong- 
 ing, potentially, to the savage state. The same 
 rule, applied to portraiture of civilized men, 
 would at once be declared false and perni- 
 cious ; and the only reason why it is not equally 
 so, in its application to the Indian, is, because 
 the separation between him and us is so broad, 
 that our conceptions of his character can exert 
 little or no influence upon our intercourse with 
 mankind. 
 
 Sympathy for what are called the Indian's 
 misfortunes, has, also, induced the class of wri- 
 ters, from whom, almost exclusively, our notions 
 of his character are derived, to represent him 
 in his most genial phases, and even to palliate 
 his most ferocious acts, by reference to the in- 
 justice and oppression, of which he has been 
 the victim. If we were to receive the author- 
 ity of these writers, we should conclude that 
 the native was not a savage, at all, until the 
 landing of the whites ; and, instead of ascribing 
 his atrocities to the state of barbarism in which 
 he lived — thus indicating their only valid 
 apology — we should degrade both the white 
 and the red men, by attributing to the former 
 2 
 
26 AVESTEIiN CIIAEACTEKS. 
 
 all imaginable vices, and, to tlie latter, a pecu- 
 liar aptitude in acquiring them. These mis- 
 takes are natural and excusable — as the man 
 who kills another in self-defence is justifiable ; 
 but the Indian character is not the less miscon- 
 ceived, jnst as the man slain is not less dead, 
 than if malice had existed in both cases. To 
 praise one above his merits, is as fatal to his 
 consideration, as decidedly to disparage him. 
 In either case, however, there is a chance that 
 a just opinion may be formed; but, when both 
 extremes are asserted with equal confidence, 
 the mind is confused, and can settle upon noth- 
 ing. The latter is precisely the condition of 
 the Indian ; and it is with a view of correcting 
 Buch Impressions, that this article is written. 
 
 The American Indian, then, is the ideal of a 
 savage — no more, no less : and I call him the 
 ideal, because he displays all those qualities, 
 which the history of the human race authorizes 
 us to infer, as the characteristics of an unen- 
 lightened people, for many ages isolated from 
 the rest of mankind ?* He differs, in many 
 
 * It will be observed, that I assume the unihj of the Indian 
 race ; and I am not sufficiently acquainted with the recent 
 discussions on the subject, to be certain whether the question 
 is still considered open. But the striking analogies between 
 
TIIU IXDI.\JS'. 27 
 
 particulars, from tlie otlier barbarians of the 
 world ; but the broadest distinction lies in this 
 completeness of his savage character. The pe- 
 culiarities of the country in which their lives 
 assume their direction, its climate, isolation, or 
 connection with the world — all these things con- 
 tribute to modify the aspects presented by native 
 races. In such points as are liable to modifica- 
 tion by these causes, the American differs from 
 every other savage ; and without entering into 
 an elaborate comparison of circumstances ^ — ^for 
 which we have neither the material, the incli- 
 nation, nor the space — it may be proper briefly 
 to consider one of these causes, and endeavor 
 to trace its effects in the Indian's moral physi- 
 ognomy. 
 
 The state of this continent, when the first 
 Asiatic wanderers landed upon its shores, was, 
 of course, that of a vast, unbroken solitude ; 
 and the contemplation of its almost boundless 
 extent and profound loneliness, was certainly 
 the first, and probably the most powerful agen- 
 cy, at work in modifying their original charac- 
 ter. What the primaiy effects of this cause 
 
 the customs, pliysical formation, and languages of all the vari- 
 ous divisions, (except the Esquimaux, who are excluded), I 
 thiuk, authorize the assumption. 
 
28 WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 
 
 were likely to be, we may observe in the white 
 emigrants, who have sought a home among the 
 forests and upon the plains of the west : Avhat- 
 ever they may have been before their migra- 
 tion, they soon become meditative, abstracted, 
 and taciturn. These, and especially the last, 
 are the peculiar characteristics of the Indian ; 
 his taciturnity, indeed, amounts to austerity, 
 sometimes impressing the observer with the 
 idea of affectation. The dispersion, which must 
 have been the eff'ect of unlimited choice in 
 lands — the mode of life pursued by those who 
 depended upon the chase for subsistence — the 
 gradual estrangement produced among the sepa- 
 rate tribes, by tlie necessity of wide hunting- 
 grounds — the vast expanse of territory at com- 
 mand — causes operating so long, as to ]3roduce 
 a fixed and corresponding nature — are the 
 sources, to wliicli we may trace almost all the 
 Indian's distinctive traits. 
 
 " Isolation," Carlyle says, " is the sum total 
 of wretchedness to man ;" and, doubtless, the 
 idea which he means to convey is just. " But," 
 in tlie words of De Quincey, "no man can be 
 truly great, without at least chequering his life 
 with solitude." Separation from his kind, of 
 course, deprives a man of the humanizing influ- 
 ences, which are the consequences of associa- 
 
THE INDIAN. 29 
 
 tion ; but it may, at the same time, strengthen 
 some of the noblest qualities of human nature. 
 Thus, we are authorized to ascribe to this agen- 
 cy, a portion of the Indian's fortitude under 
 hardships and suffering, his contempt for mere 
 meanness, and above all, the proud elevation 
 of his character. The standards of comparison, 
 which were furnished by his experience, were 
 few, and, of course, derived from the ideas of 
 barbai'ians ; but all such as were in any way 
 modified by the solitude of his existence, were 
 rendered impressive, solemn, and exalted. 
 
 In the vast solitudes of Asia, whence the In- 
 dian races migrated to this continent, so far as 
 the loneliness of savage deserts and endless 
 plains might exert an influence, we should ex- 
 pect to find the same general character. But 
 the Asians are almost universally pastoral — 
 the Americans never ; the wildest tribes of 
 Tartary possess numerous useful domesticated 
 animals — the Americans, even in Mexico,* 
 had none ; the Tartars are acquainted with the 
 use of milk, and have been so from time im- 
 memorial — the Indian, even at this day, has 
 adopted it only in a few localities, among the 
 moi-e enlightened tribes. The migration of the 
 latter either took place at a period before even 
 
 * Conquest of Mexico, vol. iii., p. 416. 
 
30 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 
 
 his Asiatic father had discovered its use, or the 
 accidents which brought him to this continent, 
 were such as to preclude importing domesti- 
 cated animals ; and the lapse of a few genera- 
 tions was sufficient to obliterate even the 
 recollection of such knowledge. " And," says 
 Prescott,* " he might well doubt, whether the 
 wild, uncouth monsters, whom he occasionally 
 saw bounding with such fnry over the distant 
 plains, were capable of domestication, like the 
 meek animals which he had left grazing in the 
 green pastures of Asia." To this leading dis- 
 tinction — the adoption and neglect of pastoral 
 habits — may be referred most of the diversi- 
 ties among races, unquestionably of one stock. 
 
 Reasoning from the effects upon human char- 
 acter, produced by the face of different coun- 
 tries, we miglit expect to find, in the Indian, 
 among other things, a strong tendency toward 
 poetical thought, embodied, not in the mode of 
 expression usually denominated poetry, but in 
 the style of his addresses, the peculiarities of his 
 theories, or the construction of his mytholog}^, 
 language, and laws. This expectation is total- 
 ly disappointed ; but when we examine the 
 degree and character of bis advancement, and 
 
 * Conquest of Mexico, vol. iii., p. 41 Y. 
 
THE INDIAN. . 31 
 
 recollect a i\'\v of tlie circiimstaiices, amonir 
 which the poetry looked for would be obliged 
 to grow, our disappointment loses its element 
 of surprise. The contemplation of ]N^ature in 
 her primitive, terrible, and beautiful forms — 
 the habit of meditation, almost the necessary 
 consequence of solitude — the strange, w^ild 
 enchantment of an adventurous life — have 
 failed to develop in the Indian, any but selfish 
 and sensual ideas. Written poetry was, of 
 course, not to be expected, even from the in- 
 digenous civilization of Mexico and Peru ; yet 
 we might, with some ground for hope, seek 
 occasional traces of poetical thought and feel- 
 ing. We look in vain for any such thing. 
 
 "Extremes meet," says one of the wisest of 
 adages ; and the saying was never more singu- 
 larly and profoundly vindicated, than in. its 
 application to civilization and barbarism. The 
 savage rejects all that does not directly gratify 
 his selfish wants — the highly-civilized man is, 
 in like manner, governed by the principle of 
 utility / and, by both, the merely fanciful and 
 imaginative is undervalued. Thus, as Mr. 
 Macaulay^ ingeniously says, " A great poem, 
 in a highly-polished state of society, is the 
 most wonderful and splendid proof of genius." 
 
 . * Essays — Art. * Milton,' 
 
32 WESTERN CIIARACTEES. 
 
 But, for tlie same reasons, the savage, who 
 should disphij any remarkahlj poetical feeling 
 or tone of thought, would be quite as great a 
 prodigy. Poetry flourishes most luxuriantly 
 midway between the two extremes. Its essence 
 is the contemplation of great passions and ac- 
 tions — of love, TcvcugQ, ambition. Imagina- 
 tion is tlien vivified by the means of expression 
 or articulation ; and, in the half-civilized state, 
 neither a refined public sentiment, nor the 
 other extreme of barbarous isolation, restrains 
 the exhibition of great (and poetical) emotions. 
 The best of Ilazlitt's numerous definitions 
 of poetry, determines it to be '• the excess of 
 imagination, beyond the actual or ordinary im- 
 pression of any object or feeling."* But the 
 Indian was destitute of all imagination ; appa- 
 rently, the comjiosition of his nature included 
 no such element ; and, certainly, the rude exi- 
 gencies of his life did not admit its action. 
 Even the purity of his mythology, compared to 
 that of the Greeks and Komans,f has been (by 
 Lord Lindsay) attributed to this want — though, 
 if such were its only effects, it might very well 
 be supplied. 
 
 * Lectures on Encfliah Poets, p. 4. 
 
 f No very high compliment, but as high as it deserves. "We 
 shall see anon. 
 
THE INDIAN. 33 
 
 The Indian lias no liiimor, no romance — 
 liow could he possess poetical feeling? The 
 gratification of sensual wants is the end of his 
 life — too often, literally the end ! "He con- 
 siders everything beneath his notice, which is 
 not necessary to his advantage or enjoyment."* 
 To him a jest is as unmeaning as the babbling of 
 a brook ; his wife is a beast of burden ; and even 
 his courting is carried on by gifts of good things 
 to eat, sent to the parents. f Heaven is merely a 
 hunting-ground ; his language has no words to 
 express abstract qualities, virtues, vices, or sen- 
 timents.:!: His idea of the G-reat Spirit, and the 
 word which expresses it, may be applied with 
 equal propriety to a formidable (though not 
 beneiicent) animal ; indeed, the Indian words 
 which we translate " spirit," mean only superi- 
 or power, without the qualification of good or 
 evil. He has not even the ordinary inhabitive 
 instinct of the human race ; his attachment to 
 any region of country depends upon its capacity 
 to furnish game, and the fading of the former 
 keeps pace with the disappearance of the latter. 
 " Attachment to the graves of his ftxthers," is an 
 agreeable fiction — unfortunately, only a fic- 
 
 * Warburton's Conquest of Canada, vol. i., p. 1*77. 
 
 f Bancroft's United States, vol. iii., p. 256. 
 
 I Hunter's Memoirs, p. 236. Western Annals, p. 712. 
 
 2* 
 
34 V^-ESTERN CIIAEACTEE3. 
 
 tion."^' lie lias always been nomadic, witlioiit 
 tlie pastoral habits which the word supposes : 
 a mere wandering savage, without purpose or 
 motive, beyond the gratification of the tempo- 
 rary want, whim, or passion, and void of every- 
 tiling deserving the name of sentiment. 
 
 An extravagant, and, I am sorry to say, ground- 
 less, notion has obtained currency, among al- 
 most all winters upon the Indian character, that 
 he is distinguished for his eloquence. But the 
 same authors tell us, that his language, the ve- 
 hicle of the supposed eloquence, can express on- 
 ly material ideas-f Now, if we knew no more 
 of his character than this, w^e should be author- 
 ized to infer (what is, indeed, true), that he pos- 
 sesses no standard for the distinction of good 
 and evil, and that his imagination is bounded 
 by the lines of his sensible experience. How 
 any degree of eloquence can be compatible 
 with this state of things, passes comprehension. 
 And what reflection would conclude, a little 
 examination will confirm. The mistake has, 
 doubtless, grown out of a misconception of the 
 
 ♦Flint's Geography, p. 108. 
 
 f "All ideas are expressed by figures addressed to the 
 flenses." IFariwrfon, vol. i., p. 175. Bancroft, ut supra. 
 
rilE INDIAN. 35 
 
 nature of eloquence itself.* If eloquence were 
 aWJigure — even if it were, in any considerable 
 degree, 7nere figure — tlien the tawdriest rhet- 
 orician would be the greatest orator. But it is 
 not so. On the contrary, the use of many 
 words (or figures) to express an idea, denotes 
 not command of language, but the absence of 
 that power — just as the employment of numer- 
 ous tools, to efifect a physical object, indicates, 
 not skill in the brancli of physics, to which the 
 object belongs, but rather awkwardness. Of 
 course, much must be placed, in both cases, to 
 the account of clumsy instruments ; but the 
 instrument of speech differs from others in this : 
 it is fashioned Jy, as well as for, its use ; and a 
 rude, unpolished language is, therefore, an in- 
 dex, in two ways, of the want of eloquence 
 among the people who emplo}^ it. 
 
 In this view, the figurative elocution of the In- 
 dian, so far from affording evidence of oratori- 
 cal power, if it proves anything, proves the op- 
 posite. It is the barrenness of his language, 
 and not the luxuriance of his imagination, 
 which enforces that mode of speech.f Imagi- 
 
 * See Bancroft, Hunter, CatUn, Flint, Jefferson, Ac.— passim 
 — all supporters of Indian eloquence, but all informing us, that 
 " combinations of material objects were his otili/ means of ex- 
 pressing abstract ideas." 
 
 f Vide Bancroft's United States, vol. iii.. pp. 25Y, '2G6, etc. 
 
36 WESTERN CHARACTEKS. 
 
 nation is the first element of oratory, simplicitj 
 its first condition. We have seen that the In- 
 dian is wholly destitute of the former ; and the 
 stilted, meretricious, and ornate style, of even 
 his ordinary communications, entirely excludes 
 the latter from our conception of his character.* 
 For example : take the expressions " bury 
 the hatchet," for " make peace," and " a cloud- 
 less sky," for "prosperity" — the latter being 
 the nearest approximation to an abstract idea 
 observed in Indian oratory. Upon examining 
 these, and kindred forms of speech, we shall at 
 once perceive that they are not the result of 
 imagination, but are suggested by material 
 analogies. Peace, to the savage, is, at best, 
 but a negative idea ; and the state of peaceful- 
 ness, abstracted from the absence of war, finds 
 no corresponding word in his language. Even 
 friendship only means that relation, in which 
 friends may be of use to each other. As his 
 dialects are all synthetic,f his ideas are all con- 
 
 * E. G. "They style themselves the 'beloved of the Great 
 Spirit.'" — Warburton, vol. i., p. 186. "In the Iroquois lan- 
 guage, the Indians gave themselves the appellation of ' Angou- 
 conoue, or 'Men of Always.'" — Chateaubriand's Travels in 
 America, vol, ii., p. 92. Note, also, their exaggerated boast- 
 fulness, even in their best speeches: "Logan never knew 
 fear," &c. 
 
 f "The absence of all reflective consciousness, and of all 
 
TUE INDIAN. 37 
 
 Crete. To say, " / love^^ witliout expressing 
 what or lohom I love, would be, so to speak, 
 very bad Indian grammar. He can not even 
 say " two" correctly, without applying the nu- 
 meral to some object. The notion of absolute 
 being, number, emotion, feeling, posture, or re- 
 lation, is utterly foreign to his mode of thought 
 and speech. 
 
 So, also, of the " cloudless sky," used to ex- 
 press a state of prosperity . He does not mean, 
 by the phrase, the serenity of mind which pros- 
 perity produces, nor any other abstract inflexion 
 or suggestion of the figure. He is constantly ex- 
 posed to the storms of heaven, in the chase, and 
 on the war path ; and, even in his best "lodge," 
 he finds but little shelter from their fury. Clear 
 weather is, therefore, grateful to him — bright 
 sunshine associates itself, in his mind, with com- 
 fort, or (that supremest of Indian pleasures) 
 undisturbed indolence. And the transition, 
 though, as we have said, an approach to an 
 abstract conception, is easy, even to the mind 
 of a savage. His employment of such illustra- 
 tions is rather an evidence of rudeness, than of 
 eloquence — of barrenness, than of luxuriance 
 of idea.^ 
 
 logical analysis of ideas, is the great peculiarity of American 
 speech." — Bancroft, vol. iii., p. 257. 
 
 * Warburton's Conquest of Canada, vol. i., p. 180. 
 
38 WESTIiRN criARACTEES. 
 
 From these considerations, it results, tliat 
 even the ver}^ best specimens of Indian ora- 
 tory, deserve the name oi 'plcturesq^ue^ rather 
 than of eloquejit — two characteristics which 
 bear no greater affinity to each other, than do 
 the picture-writing of the Aztec and the alpha- 
 betical system of the Greek. The speech of 
 Lofiran — the most celebrated of Indian har- 
 angues — even if genuine,* is but a feeble sup- 
 port to the theory of savage eloquence. It is 
 a mixture of the lament and the song of tri- 
 umph, which may be found in equal perfection 
 among all barbarous people ; but, so far as we 
 are aware, was never elsewhere dignified with 
 tliat sounding name. The slander of a brave 
 and lionorable man,f which it contains, might 
 
 * I have seen it hinted, though I have forgotten where, that 
 Jefferson, and not Logan, was the author of this speech ; but the 
 extravagant manner in which Jefferson himself praises it, seems 
 to exclude the suspicion. "I may challenge the whole orations 
 of Demosthenes and Cicero," he says, " and of any other more 
 eminent orator, if Europe has furnished more eminent, to pro- 
 duce a single passage superior to the speech of Logan !" Praise 
 certainly quite high enough, for a mixture of lamentation and 
 boastful ness. 
 
 f The evidence in this matter has long ago been thoroughly 
 sifiod ; nnd it is now certain that, so far from being present aid- 
 ing at the massacre of Logan's family, Colonel Cresap earnestly 
 endeavored to dissuade the party from its purpose. And yet the 
 falsehood is perpetuated even in the common school-books of 
 
THE INDIAN. 39 
 
 be the result of' a mistake easily made ; tlie 
 wrongs of wliicli this chief was the victim, 
 might render even a savage eloquent ; and tlie 
 mixture of bloody vaunting with profound 
 grief, is scarcely to be expected in any hut a 
 savage. '' Logan never knew fear," he says ; 
 "he would not turn on bis heel to save his 
 life." This species of boasting is perfectly in 
 keeping witli the Indian character ; but the 
 pathetic reason for this carelessness, which 
 follows — "There is no one to mourn for Lo- 
 gan" — is one not likely to have occurred to an 
 Lidian, even in his circumstances. And, grant- 
 ing that tlie expression was used by the orator, 
 and not (as it seems probable it was) added by 
 Jefferson, it is, I believe, the only example on 
 record of poetical feeling in any Lid i an speech. 
 
 The religion of the Indian has given as much 
 troublesome material to the builders of sys- 
 tems, as has been furnished by all his other 
 characteristics combined. The first explorers 
 of America supposed that they had found a 
 people, quite destitute of any religious belief. 
 But faith in a higher power than that of man, 
 
 the country, while its object has been mouldering in his grfive 
 for a quarter of a century. — Western Annah^ p. 147. Ameri- 
 can Pioneer, vol. i., p. Y, et seq. 
 
40 WESTERN CIIAEACTEES. 
 
 is a necessity of the human ^niind ; and its or- 
 ganization, more or less enlightened, is as natu- 
 ral, even to the most degraded savage, as the 
 formation of his language. Both depend upon 
 general laws, common to the intellect of all 
 races of men ; hoth are affected hj the external 
 circumstances of climate, situation, and mode 
 of life ; and the state of one may always be de- 
 termined by that of the other. "No savage 
 horde has been caught with its language in a 
 state of chaos, or as if just emerging from the 
 rudeness of undistinguishable sounds. Each 
 appears, not as a slow formation by painful pro- 
 cesses of invention, but as a perfect whole, 
 springing directly from the powers of man."* 
 And though this rigor of expression is not 
 equally applicable to the Indian's religion, the 
 fact is attributable solely to the difference in 
 nature of the subjects. As the "primary sounds 
 of a language are essentially the same every- 
 where," the impulses and instincts of piety are 
 common to all minds. But, as the written lan- 
 guage of the Indian was but the pictorial repre- 
 sentation of visible objects, having no metaphys- 
 ical signification, so the symbols of his religion, 
 the objects of his adoration, were drawn from 
 
 * Biineroft, vol. iii., p. 254. 
 
THE INDIAN. 41 
 
 external nature.* Even his faith in the Great 
 Spirit is a graft upon his system, derived from 
 the first missionaries ;f and, eagerl}^ as he adopt- 
 ed it, it is probable that its meaning, to him, is lit- 
 tle more exalted, than that of the " Great Bea- 
 yer," which he believes to be the first progenitor, 
 if not the actual creator, of that useful animal. 
 We often see the fact, that the Indian be- 
 lieves in his manitou^ cited as an evidence, 
 that he has the conception of a spiritual divin- 
 ity. But the word never conveyed such a 
 meaning ; it is applicable more properly to ma- 
 terial objects, and answers, with, if possible, a 
 more intense and superstitious significance, to 
 the term amulet. The Indian's manitou might 
 be, indeed always was, some wild animal, or 
 some part of a beast or bird — such as a bear's 
 claw, a buffalo's hoof, or a dog's tooth. :j: And, 
 though he ascribed exalted powers to this primi- 
 tive guardian, it must be remembered that 
 
 * Bancroft, vol. iii., p. 285. — " The God of the savage was what 
 the metaphysician endeavors to express by the word substance.** 
 But the Indian's idea of substance was altogether concrete. 
 
 f The best authority upon this subject is found in the Jesuit 
 " Relaciones ;" but it is at least pi'obable, that the pi'eeoncep- 
 tions of the good Fathers colored, and, perhaps, shaped, many 
 of the religious wonders there related. 
 
 X "Lettres Edifiantes," vol. vi., p. 200, et seq. Warburton, 
 vol. i., p. IS*?. 
 
42 WESTEEN CHARACTEES. 
 
 these powers were only physical — such, for ex- 
 ample, as would enable it to protect its devotee 
 from the knife of his enemy, or give him suc- 
 cess in hunting. 
 
 Materialism, then, reigns in the religion, as 
 in the language, of the Indian ; and its effects 
 are what might be expected. His whole system 
 is a degraded and degrading superstition ; and, 
 though it has been praised for its superior 
 purity, over that of the ancients, it seems to 
 have been forgotten, that this purity is only the 
 absence of one 'kind of -^'mpurity : and that its 
 cruel and corrupting influences, of another sort, 
 are ten-fold greater than those of the Greek 
 mythology. The faith of the Greek embodied 
 itself in forms, ceremonies, and observances — 
 regularly appointed religious rites kept his piety 
 alive ; the erection of grand temples, in honor 
 of his deity, whatever might be his conception 
 of that deity's character, attested his genuine 
 devotion, and held constantly before his mind 
 the abstract idea of a higher power. The In- 
 dian, before the coming of the white man, erect- 
 ed no temples'" in honor of his divinities ; for he 
 
 * The extravagant stones told of tlie Natchez Indians (among 
 whom there was said to be a remaikable tttiii)]e for worshij)) 
 ore quite iiieredihie, even if tli.'v iia<l ju.t been <1i:^pn(Vcd 
 
THE INDIAN. 43 
 
 venerated tlieiii only so long as they conferred 
 physical benefits'" npon him ; and his idea of 
 l^enelicence was wholly concrete. lie had no 
 established form of worship; the ceremonies, 
 which partook of a religious character, were 
 grotesque in their conception, variable in their 
 conduct, and inhuman in their details. Such, 
 for example, are tlie torturing of prisoners, and 
 the ceremonies observed on the occasion of a 
 young Indian's placing himself under his guar- 
 dian power. 
 
 The dogmas of the Indian religion, until vari- 
 ed by the teaching of missionaries, were few 
 and simple — being circumscribed, like every- 
 thing else belonging to him, by the material 
 world. He believed in a good spirit, and an 
 evil spirit; but his conception was limited by 
 the ideas of benefit or injury, to himself j in- 
 deed, it may safely be doubted, whether the 
 word " spirit," in its legitimate sense, is at all 
 applicable to his belief. "Power in a state of 
 exertion," is the more accurate description of 
 
 * When the manitou of the Indian lias failed to give him 
 Buecess in the chase, or protection from danger, "he upbraids 
 it with bitterness and contempt, and threatens to seek a more 
 eflfeetual protector. If the manitou continues useless, this 
 threat is fulfilled." Warb. nt supra. Vide, also, Catlin'a 
 *' American Indians," vol. i., p. 3G, et seq. 
 
4:4 WESTEEN CHARACTEE9. 
 
 his imperfect notion : abstract existence he 
 never conceived; tlie verb ^'' to ^t^," except as 
 relating to time, pbice, and action, had no 
 meaning in his langnage."^ He believed, also, 
 in subordinate powers of good and evil ; bnt, 
 since his life was occupied more in averting 
 danger and calamity, than in seeking safety 
 or happiness, he paid far more respect to the 
 latter than to the former — he prayed oftener 
 and more fervently to the devils, than to the 
 anojels. His clearest notion of divinity, was 
 that of a being able to injure him ; and, in this 
 sense, his devotion might be given to man, 
 bird, or beast. 
 
 There seems to be no doubt, that he believed 
 in a sort of immortality, even before the mis-" 
 sionaries visited his country. But it was not so 
 much a new state of existence, as a continuation 
 of present life.f He killed, horses upon the 
 grave of the departed warrior, that he might 
 be mounted for his long journey ; and buffalo 
 meat and roasted maize were buried with him, 
 
 * Bancroft^ vol. iii., p. 253. 
 
 f " He calls it [the soul] the shadow or image of his body, but 
 its acts and enjoyments are all the same as those of its earthly 
 existence. He only pictures to himself a continuation of pres- 
 ent pleasures." "Warb. vol. i., p. 190. Vide, also, Catlin's ''Amer- 
 ican Indians,'' vol. i,, p. 158, et seq. 
 
THE INDIAN. 4:5 
 
 that he might not suffer from hunger.* On 
 arriving in the land of the blest, he believed, 
 that the dead pursued the game of that country, 
 as he had done in this; and the higliest felicity 
 of wliich he conceived, was the liberty to hunt 
 unmolested by the war-parties o^ his enemies. 
 Heaven was, therefore, in his conception, only 
 a more genial earth, and its inheritors but keen- 
 er sportsmen. 
 
 That this idea of immortality involved that 
 of accountability, in some form, seems to admit 
 of no doubt; but this doctrine, like almost all 
 others belonging to the primitive savage, has 
 been moulded to its present definite shape, by 
 the long-continued labors of Christian mission- 
 aries.f He believed, indeed, that the bad In- 
 dians never reached the happy hunting-grounds, 
 but the distinction between the good and the 
 bad, in his mind, was not at all clear ; and, 
 since the idea of the passage across the gulf of 
 
 * The Indian never believed in the resurrection of the body; 
 but even corn and venison were supposed to possess a spirit, 
 which the spirit of the dead warrior might eat. — Jesuit " Rela- 
 cion," 1633, p. 54. 
 
 f " The idea of retribution," says Bancroft, vol. iii., p. 299, " as 
 far as it has found its way among them, was derived frona 
 Europeans." And the same remark may be made, of most of 
 the otlier wonders, in which enthusiastic travellers have dis- 
 covered coincidences with Christianitv. 
 
46 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 
 
 death most prevalent among all tribes, is that 
 of a narrow bridge, over which only steady 
 nerves and sure feet may carry the wanderer, 
 it seems probable that the line was drawn be- 
 tween the brave warrior and the successful hun- 
 ter, on the o»e hand, and the coward and the 
 unskilful, on the other. If these views be cor- 
 rect, the inferences to be drawn from the In- 
 dian's belief in immortality and accountability, 
 are of but slender significance. 
 
 Corrupt manners and degrading customs nev- 
 er exist, in conjunction with a pure religious 
 system. The outlines of social institutions are 
 metaphysically coincident with the limits of 
 piety ; and the refinement of morals depends 
 upon the purity of faith. We may thus deter- 
 mine the prevailing spirit of a national religion, 
 by observation of domestic manners and habits ; 
 and, among all the relations of life, that of parent 
 and child is the best index to degree of advance- 
 ment. Filial piety is but the secondary mani- 
 festation of a devotional heart ; and attachment 
 and obedience to a father on earth, are only im- 
 perfect demonstrations of love to our Father in 
 heaven. What, then — to apply the principle 
 — is the state of this sentiment in the Indian? 
 By the answer to that question, we shall be able 
 
THE IXDI^IX. 47 
 
 to estimate the value of liis religious notions, 
 and to determine the amount of hope, for his 
 conversion, justified by their possession. The 
 answer may be given in a few words : There 
 is no such sentiment in the Indian character. 
 Children leave their infirm parents to die alone, 
 and be eaten hy the wolves ;* or treat them 
 with violent indignity, f when the necessity 
 of migration gives no occasion for this barbar- 
 ous desertion. Young savages have been known 
 to beat their parents, and even to kill them ; 
 but the display of attachment or reverence for 
 them, is quite unknown. Like the beast of the 
 forest, they are no sooner old enough to care 
 for themselves, than they cease even to remem- 
 ber, by whose care they have become so ; and 
 the slightest provocation will j^roduce a quarrel 
 with a father, as readily as with a stranger. 
 The unwritten law of the Indian, about which 
 so many w^riters have dreamed, enacts no higher 
 penalty for parricide, than for any other homi- 
 cide ; and a command to honor his father and 
 mother because they are his father and mother, 
 would strike the mind of an Indian as simply 
 absurd. 
 
 * James's "Expedition,'' vol. i,, p. 237. — Catlin's "American 
 Indiana" vol. i., pp. 216-18. The latter is a zealous apologist 
 for Indian cruelties and barbarisms. 
 
 f *' Conquest of Canada,'' vol. i., pp. 194-5. 
 
48 WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 
 
 If the possession of a religion, whose fruits 
 are no better than these, can, of itself, give 
 ground for hope to the Christian philanthropist, 
 let him cherish it fondly. But it is much to be 
 feared, that the existence of such a system 
 indefinitely postpones, if it does not entirely 
 preclude, the Indian's conversion. Even a 
 bird which has never known the forest, will 
 eventually escape to the wilds which God has 
 made its home ; and the young Indian, who 
 has been reared in the city, will fly to the woods 
 and prairies, and return to the faith of his fa- 
 thers, because these, and only these, will satisfy 
 his nature." 
 
 A theme of praise, in itself more just, has 
 been the Indian's courage; but the same cir- 
 cumstances of poetical interest, which have 
 magnified men's views of his other qualities, 
 
 * The following may serve to indicate the sort of impression 
 of Christianity which even the most earnest and enlightened, 
 preaching has been able to make upon the Indian mind : "Here 
 I saw a most singular imion; one of the [Indian] graves was 
 surmounted by a cross, while close to it a trunk of a tree was 
 raised, covered with hieroglyphics, recording the number of 
 enemies slain by thS" tenant of the tomb. Here presenting a 
 hint to those who are fond of system-making on the religion 
 of these people," <tc. — BeltramVs Pilgrimage, &c., vol. ii., p. 
 807. Bancroft's United States, vol. iii., pp. 303-4. Flint's 
 Oeography, pp. 109, 126. 
 
THE INDIAN. 49 
 
 have contributed to exaggerate this also. If 
 cahn steadiness of nerve, in the moment of ac- 
 tion, be an element in true courage, that of the 
 primitive savage was scarcely genuine. In 
 all his battles, there were but two possible as- 
 pects — the furious onset, and the panic re- 
 treat : the firmness which plants itself in line 
 or square, and stubbornly contends for victory, 
 was no part of his character. A check, to him, 
 always resulted in a defeat ; and, though this 
 might, in some measure, be the consequence 
 of that want of discipline, which is incident to 
 the savage state, the remark applies with equal 
 justice, whether he fought singly or in a body. 
 He was easily panic-struck, because the im- 
 pulse of the forward movement was necessary 
 to keep him strung to effort ; and the retrograde 
 immediately became a rout, because daring, 
 without constancy, collapses with the first re- 
 action. 
 
 Notwithstanding the enervating influences 
 attributed to refinement and luxury, genuine, 
 steady courage is one of the fruits borne by a 
 high civilization. It is the result of combina- 
 tion, thought, and the divinity which attaches 
 to the cultivated man. And, though it may 
 seem rather unfair to judge a savage by the 
 rules of civilization, it has long been received 
 3 
 
50 WESTEKN CIIAEACTERS. 
 
 as a canon, that true valor bears an inverse ra- 
 tio to ferocious cruelty. Of all people yet dis- 
 covered upon earth, the Indian is the most 
 ferocious. We must, therefore, either vary the 
 meaning of the word, when applied to different 
 people, or deny the savage the possession of 
 any higher bravery, than that which lives only 
 through the onset. 
 
 Cunning suj)plied the place of the nobler 
 quality ; the object of his warfare was to over- 
 come by wily stratagem, rather than by open 
 combat. "Skill consisted in surprising the 
 enemy. They followed his trail, to kill him 
 when he slept ; or they lay in ambush near a 
 village, and watched for an opportunity of sud- 
 denly surprising an individual, or, it might be, 
 a woman and her children ; and, with three 
 strokes to each, the scalps of the victims being 
 suddenly taken off, the brave flew back with 
 his companions, to hang the trophies in his 
 cabin."'^ If they succeeded in taking prison- 
 ers, it was only that they might be reserved 
 for tl:e most infernal torments, and the gratifi- 
 cation of a brutal ferocity, not the trial and 
 admiration of the victim's courage, was the 
 purpose of their infliction. f 
 
 * Bancroft, vol. iii., p, 281. 
 
 f "To inflict blows that can not be returned," says this his- 
 
THE INDIAN. 51 
 
 The fortitude of the Indian under suffering, 
 has often been referred to, in evidence of 
 moral courage. And it is certainly true, that 
 the display so frequently made of triumph in 
 the hour of death by torture, indicates,* in 
 part, an elevation of character, seldom found 
 among more civilized men. It is, however, 
 the elevation of a barbarian ; and its manifes- 
 tations are as much the fruit of impotent 
 rage, as of a noble fortitude. The prisoner at 
 the stake knows that there is no escape ; and 
 his intense hatred of his enemies takes the form 
 of a wish, to deprive them of a triumph. While 
 his flesh is crisping and crackling in the flames, 
 therefore, he sings of the scalps he has taken, 
 and heaps opprobrious epithets upon the heads 
 of his tormentors. But his song is as much a 
 cry of agony, as of exultation — his pain only 
 adopts this mode of expression. It is quite cer- 
 tain, also, that he does not suffer so deeply, as 
 would a white man in the same circumstances. 
 By long exposure, and the endurance of hard- 
 
 torian (Bancroft, vol. iii., p. 282), " is a proof of full success, 
 and tlie entire humiliation of the enemy. It is, moreover, an 
 experiment of courage and patience." But we think such 
 things as much mere brutality, as triumph. 
 
 * The frequent change of tense in this article, refers to those 
 circumstances in which the present differs from iha past char- 
 acter of the Indian. 
 
62 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 
 
 ships incident to his savage life, his body ac- 
 quires an insensibility akin to that of wild ani- 
 mals.* His nerves do not shrink or betray a 
 tendency to spasm, even when a limb is ampu- 
 tated. Transmitted from one generation to an- 
 other, this physical nature has become a pecu- 
 liarity of the race. And when assisted by the 
 fierce hatred above referred to, it is not at all 
 strange that it should enable him to bear with 
 fortitude, tortures which would conquer the 
 firmness of the most resolute white man.f 
 
 The Indian's dignified stoicism has been as 
 much exaggerated, as his courage and forti- 
 tude. It is not quite true that he never ex- 
 presses surprise, or becomes loquacious. But 
 he has a certain stern impassibility of feature 
 — a coldness of manner — which have been mis- 
 taken for dignity. His immobility of counte- 
 nance, however, may be the efi'ect of sluggish 
 sensibilities, or even of dull perceptions ;:j: and 
 
 * It is to be doubted, whether some part of this vaunted 
 stoicism be not the result of a more than ordinary degree of 
 physical insensibility." — Flint's Geography, vol. i., p. 114. 
 
 f Many white men, however, have endured the utmost ex- 
 tremities of Indian cruelty. See cases of Brebeuf, and Lalle- 
 mand, in Bancroft, vol. iii., p. 140. 
 
 X "It is intellectual culture which contributes most to diversi- 
 fy the features."— //wmftoW^'s Personal Narratively o\. iii., p. 228. 
 
THE INDIAN. 63 
 
 the same savage vanity, wliicli leads Liin to 
 make a display of strength or agility before 
 friend or enemy, prevents his acknowledging 
 ignorance, by betraying surprise.* We have 
 been in company with Indians from the Far 
 West, while they saw a railroad for the first 
 time. When they thought themselves unno- 
 ticed, they were as curious about the singular 
 machinery of the locomotive, and as much ex- 
 cited by the decorations and appointments of 
 the cars, as the most ignorant white man. But 
 the moment they discovered that their move- 
 ments were observed, they resumed their dig- 
 nified composure; and, if you had judged of 
 the Indian country by their subsequent deport- 
 ment, you might have believed that the vast 
 prairies of the Missouri were everywhere inter- 
 sected by railroads — that the Indian had, in 
 fact, never known any other mode of travel- 
 ling. " On first seeing a steamboat, however," 
 says Flint, who well understands his character, 
 " he never represses his customary ' Ugh P " 
 
 Generally, among white men, he who is fond- 
 est of inflicting pain, is least able to endure it. 
 
 * ** They have probably as much curiosity [as the white], 
 but a more stern perseverance in repressing it." — Flint's Geog- 
 raphy, vol. i,, p. 124. 
 
54 WESTEEN CHAEACTEES. 
 
 But the Indian reverses almost all the princi- 
 ples, which apply to civilized life; and, ac- 
 cordingly, we find that, with all his so-called 
 fortitude, he is the most intensely cruel of all 
 living men. Before possession of the continent 
 was taken by Europeans, war was more con- 
 stantly the occupation of his life, than it has 
 been since ; but even now his only object in 
 taking his enemies alive, is to subject them to 
 the most inhuman tortures.* And in these 
 brutal orgies, the women are most active, even 
 taking the lead, in applying the cord and the 
 brand. f E"or is this cruelty confined to ene- 
 mies, as the practice of leaving the aged and 
 infirm to die of starvation sufficiently proves. 
 
 And his treachery is equal to his cruelty. 
 "No treaty can bind him longer than superior 
 force compels him to observe it. The discovery 
 that his enemy is unprepared for an attack, is 
 sufficient reason to him for making it ; his only 
 object in concluding peace, is to secure an ad- 
 
 * "The enemy is assailed with treachery, and, if conquered, 
 treated with revolting cruelty." * * " A fiendish ferocity 
 assumes full sway." — Conquest of Canada, vol. i., p. 206. 
 
 f It is perhaps not very remarkable, however, that the wo- 
 men are most cruel to the aged and infirm — the young and 
 vigorous being sometimes adopted by them, to console them 
 for the loss of those who have fallen. — Idem, p. 210. 
 
THE INDIAN. 55 
 
 vantage in war ; and l)efore tlic prospect of a 
 blood}^ inroad, liis faitli melts away, like snow 
 before the sun. The claims of gratitude he sel- 
 dom acknowledges ; he cherishes the memory 
 of a benefit, only nntil he finds an opportunity 
 of repaying it with an injury ; and forbearance 
 to avenge the latter, only encourages its repeti- 
 tion.^ The numerous pretty stories published 
 of Indian gratitude, are either exceptional 
 cases, or unmixed romances. 
 
 There have been some tribes of Indians in a 
 measure reclaimed from their state of barbar- 
 ism ; the Cherokees, I believe, (and perhaps one 
 or two other nations,) have even increased in 
 numbers, under the influence of civilization. But 
 this is the result of numerous favorable causes 
 combined, and proves nothing, from which to 
 infer the Indian's docility. Other savages, on 
 coming in contact with civilized men, have dis- 
 covered a disposition to acquire some of the 
 useful arts — their comforts have been increased, 
 their suflTe rings diminished, and their condition 
 ameliorated, by the grafting of new ideas upon 
 
 * " We consider them a treacherous people, easily swayed 
 from their purpose, paying their court to the divinity of good 
 fortune, and always ready to side with the strongest. "We 
 should not rely upon their feelings of to-day, as any pledge 
 for what they will be to-morrow." — Flinfs Geography, vol. i., 
 p. 120. 
 
56 WE5TEEX CHAEACTEES. 
 
 the old. But, between tlie red man and the 
 white, contignity has brought about little more 
 than an exehauge of vices. 
 
 Almost the only things coveted by the '* red- 
 skin" from the ''palelace," were his arms, his 
 trinkets, and his " firewater." He conld appre- 
 ciate whatsoever gave him superiority in war, 
 gratified his childish vanity, or ministered to 
 his brutal appetite. But the greater comfort 
 of the white man's house — the higher excel- 
 lence of his boat — his improved agricultural 
 implements or extended learning — none of 
 these things appealed to the Indian's passions 
 or desires. The arts of peace were nothing to 
 him — refinement was worse than nothing. He 
 would spend hours in decorating his person, 
 but not a moment in cleansiiig it : I believe 
 no tradition exists of an Indian ever havino- 
 used soap or bought a fine-tooth comb I He is, 
 indeed, a '• pattern of filthiness ;•' but even in 
 civilized life, we find that this is not at all in- 
 compatible with an extravagant love of orna- 
 ment ; and, in this respect, the savage is not 
 behind his more enlightened brethren and sis- 
 ters. Beads, ribands, and scarlet cloth — with 
 powder and lead, guns, tomahawks, and knives 
 — are the ac<[uisitions which he prizes most 
 highly. 
 
THE INDIAN. 67 
 
 Pre-eminent, however, above all tliese in his 
 estimation, is the greatest curse which has jet 
 reached him — the liquid lire called whiskey ! 
 He is, by nature, a drunkard, and the fury of 
 his intoxication equals the ferocity of his war- 
 fare. "All words would be thrown away," 
 says Mr. Flint,"^ " in attempting to portray, in 
 just colors, the efiects of whiskey upon such a 
 race." Fire should be kept away from com- 
 bustibles — whiskey from the Indian, and for 
 the same reason. With drunkenness, he pos- 
 sesses, also, its inseparable companion, the vice 
 of gambling.f He is the most inveterate 
 gamester : Before the demon of avarice every- 
 thing gives way. He even forgets his taciturn- 
 ity, in the excitement of the game, and be- 
 comes loquacious and eager. He will stake all 
 his most valuable possessions, and, losing these, 
 will even risk his own liberty, or life, on the 
 turn of a card. "We were once witness to a 
 game in San Antonio (in "Western Texas), 
 among a party of Lipans,:}: a race of fine-looking 
 men, who range the table-lands north of the 
 
 * " Geography of the Mississippi VaUeii" vol. i., p. 121. 
 
 f "The Indians are immoderately fond of play." — Warbur- 
 ton, vol. i., p. 218. 
 
 J These used cards ; but they have, among themselves, nu- 
 merous games of chance, older than the discovery of the con- 
 tinent ^^ 
 
58 WESTEEN CIIARACTEES. 
 
 sources of the ISTiieces. Two of them, one the 
 handsomest warrior among them, lost, first, the 
 money, which they had just received as the 
 price of skins, brought to the city for sale. They 
 then staked, snccessively, their horses, their 
 arms, their mocassins, and their blankets. The 
 " luck" was against them — everything was lost ; 
 and we supposed the game was over. But 
 — as a last resource, like drawing blood from 
 their beating hearts — each produced a little 
 leathern hottle^ containing whiskey ! And, as 
 if these possessed a higher value than all the 
 articles yet lost, the game "went on with in- 
 creased interest ! Even the potent " spirit" 
 thus evoked, could not prevail upon Fortune to 
 change her face : the whiskey was lost with 
 the rest ! Each rose to his feet, with the usual 
 guttural exclamation, and, afoot, and unarmed 
 as he was, silently took his way to the prairies ; 
 while the winners collected in a group, and 
 with much glee, proceeded to consume the 
 liquid poison so cheaply obtained. 
 
 We come, finally to the question of the In- 
 dian's fate : What is to become of the race ? 
 The answer presents no difiiculties, save such 
 as grow out of men's unwillingness to look un- 
 pleasant truths in the face. There has been, 
 
a HE INDIAN. 59 
 
 of late years, much lamentation, among our 
 own people, over the gradual extinction of 
 these interesting savages ; and in Europe we 
 have been made the subject of indignant elo- 
 quence, for (what those, who know nothing 
 about it, are pleased to call) " our oppression 
 of the Indian." But, in the first place, the de- 
 cay of the American races is neither so rapid 
 nor so universal, as is generally supposed;"* 
 and, in the second place, if the fact were other- 
 wise, we could, at the worst, be charged only 
 with accelerating a depopulation already be- 
 gun. "The ten thousand mounds in the Mis- 
 sissippi Yalley, the rude memorials of an im- 
 mensely numerous former population, but, to 
 our view, no more civilized than the present 
 races, are proofs that the country loas depopiL- 
 lated^ when the white man first became ac- 
 quainted with it. If we can infer nothing else 
 from these mounds, we can clearly infer, that 
 this country once had its millions."f What 
 
 * " The Cherokee and Mobilian families of nations are mora 
 numerous now than ever." — Bancroft, vol. iii., p. 253. In 
 speaking of this declamation about the extinction of the race, 
 Mr. Flint very pertinently remarks : " One would think it had 
 been discovered, that the population, the improvements, and 
 the social happiness of our great political edifice, ought never 
 to have been erected in the place of these habitations of 
 cruelty. ' — Geog^raphif, vol, i., p. 10*7. 
 
 f Idem, 
 
60 WESTERN CHARACTEKS. 
 
 had become of this immense i^opulation ? The 
 successive invasions of new hordes of barba- 
 rians from the north, intestine wars, and the 
 law, that men shall advance toward civiliza- 
 tion, or decay from the earth — th^se are the 
 only causes to which we may ascribe their dis- 
 appearance. 
 
 The extinction of the Indian race is decreed, 
 by a law of Providence which we can not gain- 
 say. Barbarism omist give way to civilization. 
 It is not only inevitable, but right^ that it 
 should be so. The tide of empire, which has 
 been flowing since the earliest times, has set 
 steadily toward the "West. The Indian emi- 
 grated in the wrong direction : and now, after 
 the lapse of many centuries, the descendants of 
 the first Asians, having girdled the globe, meet 
 on the banks of the Mississippi ! On the one 
 side, are enlightenment, civilization, Christian- 
 ity : on the other, darkness, degradation, bar- 
 barism: and the question arises, which shall 
 give way % The Indian recedes : at the rate of 
 seventeen miles a year,* the flood rolls on ! 
 Already it has reached the shores of the Pa- 
 cific : One century will reduce the whole con- 
 tinent to the possession of the white man ; and, 
 
 * This is De Tocqueville's estimate. — Democracy in America, 
 vol. ii., chap. 10. 
 
THE INDIAN. 61 
 
 then, tlie lesson wliicli all history teaches, will 
 he again taught — that two distinct races can- 
 not exist in the same country on equal terms. 
 The weaker must be incorporated with the 
 stronger — or exterminated.* 
 
 * *' We may as well endeavor to make the setting sun stand 
 still on the summit of the Rocky Mountains, as attempt to ar- 
 rest the final extermination of the Indian race !" — Merivale 
 on Colonization — Lecture 19. 
 
 The principle stated in the text will apply with equal force 
 to the negro-race; and those who will look the facts firmly in 
 the face, can not avoid seeing, that the ultimate solution of the 
 problem of American Slavery, can be nothing but the sword. 
 
II. 
 
 THE YOYAGEUR. 
 
 " Spread out earth's holiest records here. 
 Of days and deeds to reverence dear : 
 A zeal like this, what pious legends tell?" 
 
 The sliapeless knight-errantrv of tlie thir- 
 teenth and fourteenth centuries, rich as it was 
 in romance and adventure, is not to be com- 
 pared, in any vahiable characteristic, to the 
 noiseless self-devotion of the men who first ex- 
 plored the Western country. The courage of 
 the knight was a part of his savage nature ; his 
 confidence was in the strength of his own right 
 arm ; and if his riiggedness was ever softened 
 down by gentler thoughts, it was only when he 
 asked forgiveness for his crimes, or melted in 
 sensual idolatry of female beauty. 
 
 It would be a curious and instructive inquiry, 
 could we institute it with success, how much 
 of the contempt of danger manifested by the 
 wandering kniorht was referable to genuine 
 
TIIE VOYAGEUE. 63 
 
 valor, and what proportion to the strength of 
 a Milan coat, and the temper of a Toledo or 
 Ferrara blade. And it would be still more 
 curious, although perhaps not so instructive, to 
 estimate the purity and fidelity of the heroines 
 of chivalry ; to ascertain the amount of true de- 
 votion given them by their admirers, " without 
 hope of reward." 
 
 But without abating its interest by invidious 
 and ungrateful inquiries, we can see quite enough 
 — in its turbulence, its cruelty, arrogance, and 
 oppression — to make ns thank Heaven that 
 "the days of chivalry are gone." And from 
 that chaotic scene of rapine, raid, and murder, 
 we can turn with pleasure to contemplate the 
 truer, nobler chivalry — the chivalry of love and 
 peace, whose weapons were the kindness of 
 their hearts, the purity of their motives, and 
 the self-denial of their lives. 
 
 The term " voyageur''^ * literally signifies 
 " traveller ;" and by this modest name are in- 
 dicated some of the bravest adventurers the 
 world has ever seen. But it is not in its usual, 
 common-place signification that I employ the 
 
 * In common use, this word was restricted so as to indicate 
 only the boatmen, the carriers of that time; but I am writing 
 of a period anterior, by many years, to the existence of the 
 Trade which made their occupation. 
 
Q^ WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 
 
 word, nor yet in tliat w^hicli is given it bv most 
 writers on the subject of early French settle- 
 ments and explorations. Men are often aifected 
 by the names given tliem, either of opprobrium 
 or commendation ; but words are quite as fre- 
 quently changed, restricted, or enlarged in 
 meaning, by their application to men. For 
 example : you apply the word soldier to a class 
 of men ; and if robbery be one of the character- 
 istics of that class, "soldier" will soon come to 
 mean "robber" too. And thus, though the 
 parallel is only logical, has it been with the 
 term '-'"DoyageurP The class of men to whom 
 it is applied were travellers — voyageura ; but 
 they were more ; and as the habits and quali- 
 ties of men came in time to be better under- 
 stood than the meaning of French words, the 
 term, used in reference to Western history, 
 took much of its significance from the history 
 and character of the men it assumed to de- 
 scribe. Thus, im voyageur means not only a 
 traveller, but a traveller with a purpose ; an 
 adventurer among the "Western wilds ; a chiv- 
 alrous missionary, either in the cause of sci- 
 ence or religion. It includes high courage, 
 burning zeal for church and country, and the 
 most generous self-devotion. It describes such 
 men as Marquette, La Salle, Joliet, Gravier, 
 
THE VOTAGEUR. 65 
 
 and hundreds of others equally illustrious, who 
 lived and died among the dangers and priva- 
 tions of the wilderness ; who opened the way 
 for civilization and Christianity among the 
 savages, and won, many of them, crowns of 
 martyrdom. 
 
 They were almost all Frenchmen. The 
 Spaniards who came to this continent were 
 mere gold-seekers, thirsting only for wealth ; 
 and if they sought to propagate Christianity, 
 or rather the Christian name^ it was only a 
 sanguinary bigotry that prompted them. On 
 the other hand, the English emigrants came to 
 take possession of the country for themselves. 
 The conversion of the natives, or territorial ac- 
 quisition for the mother-country, were to them 
 objects of barely secondary importance. They 
 believed themselves persecuted — some of them 
 were persecuted — and they fled: it was only 
 safety for themselves^ and the rich lands of the 
 Indian, that they sought. Providence reserved 
 for the French chevaliers and missionaries the 
 glory of leaving their homes without compul- 
 sion, real or imaginary, to penetrate an inhos- 
 pitable wilderness ; to undergo fatigues ; to 
 encoimter dangers, and endure privations of a 
 thousand kinds ; enticed by no golden glitter, 
 covetous of no riches, save such as are "laid 
 
66 WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 
 
 np in liGcaven !" They came not as conquerors, 
 but as ministers of peace, demanding only hos- 
 pitality. They never attacked the savages with 
 sword or fagot ; but extending hands not stained 
 by blood, they justified their profession by relief 
 and love and kindly offices. Sometimes, indeed, 
 they received little tracts of land ; not seized 
 by the hand of power, nor grasped by superior 
 cunning, but possessed as the free gift of sim- 
 ple gratitude ; and upon these they lived in 
 peace, surrounded by savages, but protected 
 by the respect inspired by blameless and be- 
 neficent lives. Many of those whose vows per- 
 mitted it, intermarried among the converted na- 
 tives, and left the seeds of many meliorations in 
 a stony soil ; and many of them, when they 
 died, were as sincerely mourned by the simple 
 children of the forest, as if they had been chiefs 
 and braves. 
 
 Such were the men of peace w^ho penetrated 
 the wilderness through the French settlements 
 in Canada, and preached the gospel to the 
 heathen, where no white man had ever before 
 been seen ; and it is particularly to this class 
 that I apply the word at the head of this arti- 
 cle. But the same gentle spirit pervaded other 
 orders of adventurers — men of the sword and 
 buckler, as well as of the stole and surplice. 
 
THE VOYAGEUR. 67 
 
 These came to estal)lisli the dominion of La 
 Belle France; but it was not to oppress the 
 simple native, or to drive him from liis lands. 
 Kindness marked even the conduct of the rongh 
 soldier ; and sncli men as La Salle, and Iberville, 
 who were stern enongh in war, and rigid enough 
 in discipline, manifested always an anxious so- 
 licitude for the rights^ as well as for the spiritual 
 welfare of the Indian. They gave a generous 
 confidence where they were conscious of no wish 
 to injure; they treated frankly and on equal 
 terms, with those whom their religion and their 
 native kindness alike taught them to consider 
 brethren and friends. Take, for example, that 
 significant anecdote of La Salle, related by the 
 faithful chronicler^ of his unfortunate expedi- 
 tions. He was building the fort of Crevecceitr^ 
 near the spot where now stands the city of Pe- 
 oria, on the Illinois river; and even the name 
 of his little fortress {Creveccmii\ Broken Heart) 
 was a mournful record of his shattered fortunes. 
 The means of carrying out his noble enterprise 
 (the colonizing of the Mississippi valley) were 
 lost ; the labor of years had been rendered in- 
 
 * Joutel, who was one of La Salle's party, and afterward 
 wrote an account of the enterprise, entitled Journal Hiato- 
 rique, published in Paris, 1713. Its fidelity is as evident upon 
 its face, as is the simplicity of the liistorian. 
 
68 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 
 
 effectual by one shipwreck ; his men were dis- 
 contented, even mutinous, "attempting," says 
 Hennepin, "first to poison, and then desert 
 him ;" his mind was distracted, his heart al- 
 most broken, by accumulated disasters. Sur- 
 rounded thus by circumstances which might 
 well have rendered him careless of the feelings 
 of tlie savages around him, lie observed that 
 tliey had become cold and distant — that in 
 effect they no longer viewed him as their 
 friend. The Ii-oquois," d lifting from the shores 
 of Lake Ontario, where they liad always been 
 the bitterest foes of the French, had instilled 
 fear and hatred into their minds ; it was even 
 said that some of his owm men had encouraged 
 the growing discontent. In tliis juncture, what 
 measures does he take? Strengthen his forti- 
 fications, and prepare for war, as the men of 
 other nations had done? Far from it. Soldier 
 and adventurer as he was, he had no wish to 
 shed innocent blood ; though with his force he 
 might have defied all the nations about him. 
 He went as a friend, frankly and generously, 
 
 * This was in the winter of 1679-80; and the Five Nations, 
 included in the general term Iroquois, had not then made the 
 conquest upon whieli the English afterward founded their claim 
 to the country. Tliey were, however, generally regarded aa 
 enemies by all the Illinois tribes. 
 
THE VOYAGEUE. 69 
 
 among tliem, [iiid demanded tlie reasons of 
 their discontent. lie touched their hearts by 
 his confidence, convinced them of his friend- 
 ship, and attached them to himself more devo- 
 tedly than ever. A whole history in one brief 
 passage ! 
 
 But it is more especially to the voyageicrs of 
 the church — the men of faith and love — that I 
 wish to direct my readers' attention : To such men 
 as Le Carou, a Franciscan, w^tli all the zeal and 
 courage and self-abnegation of his order, who 
 wandered and preached among the bloody Iro- 
 quois, and upon the w^aters of Huron, as early 
 as 1616 : to Mesnard, a devoted missionary of 
 the same order, who, in 1660, founded a mission 
 at the Sault de Ste. Marie, and then went into 
 the forest to induce the savages to listen to the 
 glad tidings he had brought, and never came 
 back : to Father Allouez, w^lio rebuilt the mis- 
 sion five years afterward (the first of these 
 houses of God which was not destroyed or 
 abandoned), who subsequently crossed the 
 lakes, and preached to the Indians on Fox 
 river, where, in one of the villages of the Mi- 
 amis and Mascoutens, Marquette found a cross 
 still standing, after the lapse of years, where 
 Allouez had raised it, covered with the offer- 
 ings of the simple natives to an unknown God. 
 
70 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 
 
 He is the same, too, who founded Kaskaskia, 
 probably the earliest settlement in the great 
 valley, and whose history ends (significant 
 fact!) with the record of his usefulness. To 
 Father Pinet, who founded Cahokia, and was 
 so successful in the conversion of the natives, 
 that his little chapel could not contain the 
 numbers who resorted to his ministrations : to 
 Father Marest, the first preacher against intem- 
 perance ; and, finally, to Marquette, the best 
 and bravest of them all, the most single-hearted 
 and unpretending ! 
 
 Enthusiasm is a characteristic of the French 
 nation ; a trait in some individuals elevated to 
 a sublime self-devotion, and in others degraded 
 to mere excitability. The vivacity, gesticula- 
 tion, and grimace, which characterize most of 
 them, are the external signs of this nature ; the 
 calm heroism of the seventeenth century, and 
 the insane devotion of the nineteenth, were 
 alike its fruits. Tlie "ooyageur possessed it, in 
 common with all his countrymen. But in him 
 it was not noisy, turbulent, or egotistical ; 
 military glory had "neither part nor lot" in 
 his schemes ; the conquests he desired to make 
 were the conquests of faith; the dominion he 
 wished to establish was the dominion of Jesus. 
 
THE VOYAGEUR. 71 
 
 In tlie pursuit of these objects, or ratlier of 
 this single object, I have said he manifested the 
 enthusiasm of his race; but it was the noblest 
 form of that characteristic. The fire that 
 burned in his bosom was fed by no selfish pur- 
 pose. To have thought of himself, or of his 
 own comforts, or glory, to the detriment of any 
 Christian enterprise, however dangerous or un- 
 promising, would, in his eyes, have been a 
 deadly sin. 
 
 At Sault de Ste. Marie, Father Marquette 
 heard of many savages (whom he calls " God's 
 children") living in barbarism, far to the west. 
 With five boatmen and one companion, he at 
 once set out for an unexplored, even unvisited 
 wilderness. He had what they had not — the 
 gospel ; and his heart yearned toward them, as 
 the heart of a mother toward an afflicted child. 
 He went to them, and bound them to him " in 
 the bond of peace." If they received him kind- 
 ly — as they usually did, for even a savage rec- 
 ognises and respects genuine devotion — he 
 preached to them, mediated among them, soft- 
 ened their hearts, and gathered them into the 
 fold of God. If they met him with arms in their 
 hands — as they sometimes did, for savages, 
 like civilized men, do not always know their 
 
72 WESTERN CHARACTEES. 
 
 friends — lie resolutely offered peace; and, in 
 liis own simple and pious language, "God 
 touched their hearts," and thej cast aside their 
 weapons and received him kindly. 
 
 But the voyageur had higher qualities than 
 enthusiasm. He was capable of being so ab- 
 sorbed in a cause as to lose sight of his own 
 identity ; to forget that he was more than an 
 instrument in the hands of God, to do God's 
 work : and the distinction between these traits 
 is broad indeed ! Enthusiasm is noisy, obtru- 
 sive — self-abnegation is silent, retiring ; enthu- 
 siasm is officious, troublesome, careless of time 
 and place — self-abnegation is prudent, gentle, 
 considerate. The one is active and fragment- 
 ary — the other passive, but constant. 
 
 Thus, when the untaught and simple native 
 was to be converted, the missionary took note 
 of the spiritual capacity as well as of the spirit- 
 ual wants ; he did not force him to receive, at 
 once, the whole creed of the church, as a mere 
 enthusiast would have done ; for that wisdom 
 would feed an infant with strong meats, even 
 before it had drawn its mother's milk. ISTeither 
 did he preach the gospel with the sword, like 
 the Spaniard, nor with fire and fagot, like the 
 puritan. He was wise as the serpent, but 
 gentle as the dove. He took the wondering 
 
THE VOYAGEUK. 73 
 
 Indian by the liand ; received him as a brother ; 
 won him over to listen patiently ; and then 
 taught him first that which he could most easily 
 comprehend : he led him to address the throne 
 of grace, or, in the language of the time, " to 
 embrace the prayer ;" because even the savage 
 believed in Deity. As his imderstanding was 
 expanded, and his heart purified — as every 
 heart must be which truly lifts itself to God — 
 he gradually taught him the more abstruse and 
 wonderful doctrines of the Church of Christ. 
 Gently and imperceptibly he led him on, until 
 the whole tremendous work was done. The un- 
 tutored savage, if he knew nothing else, yet 
 knew the name of his Redeemer. The bloody 
 warfare, the feuds and jealousies of his tribe, 
 if not completely overcome, at least were soft- 
 ened and ameliorated. When he could not 
 convert, he endeavored to humanize ; and 
 among the tribes of the Illinois,* though they 
 were never thoroughly Christianized, the influ- 
 ence of the good fathers soon prevailed to abol- 
 ish the barbarous practice of torturing cap- 
 tives, f For though they might not embrace 
 
 * A collective name, including a number, variously stated, 
 Df different tribes confederated. 
 
 f Annals of the West, by J. 11. Perkins and J. M. Peck, 
 p. 679. St. Louis. 1850. 
 
 4 
 
Y4: ^\•I:STEEN CIIAEACTKRS. 
 
 the religion, the savages venerated its teachers, 
 and loved them for their geiitleness. 
 
 And this gentleness was not want of courage ; 
 for never in the history of the world has truer 
 valor been exhibited than that shown by the 
 early missionary and his compeers, tlie first 
 military adventurers ! Eead Joutel's account 
 of the melancholy life and death of La Salle ; 
 read the simj^le, unpretending " Journal" of 
 Marquette;"'^ and compare their constancy and 
 heroism with tliat displayed at any time in any 
 cause ! But the voyageur possessed higher 
 qualities than courage, also ; and here again we 
 recur to his perfect abnegation of himself; his 
 renunciation of all personal considerations. 
 
 Courage takes note of danger, but defies it: 
 the voyage^ir was careless of danger, because 
 he counted it as nothing ; he gave it no thought, 
 because it only afi'ected himself ; and he valued 
 not his own safety and comfort, so long as he 
 could serve the cause by forgetting them. Mere 
 courage is combative, even pugnacious ; but 
 the voyageur fought only " the good fight ;" he 
 had no pride of conquest, save in the victories 
 of Faith, and rather would suffer, himself, than 
 
 * The substance of tlie Journal may be found, republished by 
 Dr. Sparks, in the second edition of Butlers Kentucky, p. 493, 
 et seq., and in vol. x. of ins American Biography, 
 
THE VOYAGEUE. 75 
 
 inflict suffering upon others. Mere courage ia 
 restless, impatient, purposeless : but the voya- 
 geitr was content to remain wherever he could 
 do good, tentative only in the cause of Christ, 
 and distracted by no objects from his mission. 
 His religion was his inspiration ; his conscience 
 his reward. His system may have been per- 
 verted, his zeal mistaken, his church a sham ; 
 we are not arguing that question. But the 
 purity of his intentions, the sincerity of his 
 heart, can not be doubted ; and the most intol- 
 erant protestant against "the corruptions of 
 Rome" will, at least, admit that even Catholi- 
 cism was better than the paganism of the sav- 
 age. 
 
 "There is not," says Macaulay,* "and there 
 never was on this earth, a work of human poli- 
 cy so well deserving of examination as the Ro- 
 man Catholic Church." And certainly all other 
 systems combined have never produced one 
 tithe of the astounding results brought about 
 by this alone. Whether she has taught truth 
 or falsehood ; whether, on the whole, it had 
 been better or worse for the cause of Christian- 
 ity, had no such organization ever existed ; 
 whether her claims be groundless or well- 
 founded, are questions foreign to our purpose. 
 
 * Misccllaniea, " Review of Ranke'a History of the Popes." 
 
76 WESTERN CHAKACTEES. 
 
 But tliat her polity is tlie most powerful — the 
 best adapted to the ends she has in view — of all 
 that man has hitherto invented, there can be no 
 doubt. Her missionaries have been more nu- 
 merous and more successful, ay, and more de- 
 voted, than those of any other church. They 
 have gone where even the sword of the con- 
 queror could not cleave his way. They have 
 built churches in the wilderness, which were 
 time-worn and crumbling when the first ' emi- 
 grant penetrated the forests. They have preach- 
 ed to youthful savages who never saw tlie face 
 of another white man, thongli they lived to 
 three-score years and ten. They have prayed 
 upon the shores of lonely lakes and rivers, 
 which were not mapped by geographers for 
 centuries after their deaths. They have trav- 
 elled on foot, unarmed and alone, where an 
 army could not march. And everywhere their 
 zeal and usefulness have ended only with their 
 lives ; and always with their latest breath 
 they have mingled prayers for the salvation of 
 their flocks, with aspirations for the welfare of 
 their church. For though countless miles of sea 
 and land were between her and them, their 
 loyalty and affection to the great spiritual 
 Mother were never forgotten. "In spite of 
 oceans and deserts ; of hunger and pestilence ; 
 
THE VOYAGEUR. T7 
 
 of spies and penal laws; of dungeons and 
 racks, of gibbets and quartering-blocks," they 
 liave been found in every country, at all times, 
 ever active and zealous. And everywhere, in 
 palace, or hovel, or wilderness, they have been 
 true sons of the church, loyal and obedient. 
 
 An organization capable of producing such 
 results is certainly well worth examination. 
 For the influence she has wielded in ages past 
 gives promise of her fuj;ure power; and it be- 
 comes those who think her permanence perni- 
 cious to the world, to avoid her errors and yet 
 imitate her wisdom. If the system be a false- 
 hood and a sham, it is a most gigantic and suc- 
 cessful one, and it is of strange longevity. It 
 has lived now more than fifteen hundred years, 
 and one hundred and fifty millions of people 
 yet believe it. If it be a counterfeit, it is high 
 time the cheat were detected and exposed. Let 
 those who have the truth give forth its light, 
 that the falsehood may wither and die. Unless 
 they do so, the life which has already extended 
 over so many centuries may gain fresh vigor, 
 and renew its youth. Even yet the vision of 
 the essayist may be realized : " She may still 
 exist in undiminished vigor, when some trav- 
 eller from New Zealand shall, in the midst of a 
 vast solitude, take his stand on a broken arch 
 
78 WESTEEN CHARACTEES. 
 
 of London Bridge to skctcli the ruins of St. 
 Paul's!" 
 
 It was to this cliurcli that the early 'voya- 
 geurs belonged. And I do not use that word 
 *' belonged" as it is employed in modern times 
 among protestants : I mean more than that con- 
 venient, loosely-fitting profession, which, like a 
 garment, is thrown on and oflT, as the exigencies 
 of hypocrisy or cupidity may require. These 
 men actually did helon^ to the church. They 
 were hers, soul and body ; hers, in life and in 
 death ; hers to go whithersoever she might di- 
 rect, to do whatsoever she might appoint. They 
 believed the doctrines they taught with an abid- 
 ing, active faith ; and they were willing to be 
 spent in preaching them to the heathen. 
 
 It has always been a leading principle in the 
 policy of the Koman church, to preserve her 
 unity, and she has been enabled to do so, prin- 
 cipally by the ramified and elastic polity for 
 which she has been distinguished, to which she 
 owes much of her extent and power, as well as 
 no small part of the reproach so liberally be- 
 stowed upon her in the pages of history. There 
 are many "arms" in her service: a man must 
 be impracticable indeed, when she can find no 
 place in which to make him useful, or to pre- 
 
TTIK YOYACKrR. 70 
 
 vent Li? henig mipcliicvons. Slie never drives 
 one frohi tlie pale of tlie c^.iurcli who can benefit 
 it as a communicant, or injure it as a dissenter. 
 If lie became troublesome at home, she lias, in 
 all ages, had enterprises on foot in which she 
 might clothe him with authority, and send him 
 to the uttermost parts of the earth ; thus ridding 
 herself of a dangerous member, and, by the 
 same act, enlarging the sphere of her own do- 
 minion. Does an enthusiast become noisy, or 
 troublesome upon unimportant points, the creed 
 is flexible, and the mother will not quarrel with 
 her child, for his earnestness may convince and 
 lead astray more valuable sons and daughters. 
 She w^ill establish a new order, of which the 
 stubborn fanatic shall be founder ; the new or- 
 der is built into the old church organization, 
 and its founder becomes a dignitary of the ec- 
 clesiastical establishment. Instead of becoming 
 a dangerous heretic and schismatic, he is at- 
 tached to orthodoxy by cords stronger than 
 steel ; henceforth all his earnest enthusiasm 
 shall be directed to the ad v^an cement of his or- 
 der, and consequently of his church. Does 
 one exhibit inflexibility in some matter of con- 
 science upon which the church insists, there 
 are many of God's children in the wilderness 
 starving in spirit for the bread of life; and to 
 
80 WESTERN CITA^ACTEES. 
 
 these, witli that hread, shall the refractory son 
 be sent. He receives the commission ; 'departs 
 upon his journey, glad to forget a difference 
 with his spiritual superiors ; preaches to the 
 heathen ; remembers only that the church is 
 his mother; wins a crown of martja-dom, and is 
 canonized for the encouragement of others ! 
 
 Thus she finds a place for all, and work 
 enongli for each ; and tlius are thrown off the 
 elements of schism and rebellion. Those who 
 had most courage in the cause of right ; all 
 who were likely to be guided in matters of con- 
 science by their own convictions ; the most 
 sincere and single-hearted, the firmest and pur- 
 est and bravest, were, in matters of controversy, 
 the most dangerous champions, should they 
 range themselves against the teaching of the 
 church. Tliey were consequently, at the period 
 of which I am writing, the men whom it was 
 most desirable to send away ; and they were 
 eminently well fitted for the arduous and wast- 
 ing duties of the missionary. 
 
 To this class belonged the large majority of 
 the voyageur priests : men who might be incon- 
 venient and obtrusive monitors, or formidable 
 adversaries in controversy, if they remained at 
 home; but who could only be useful — who of 
 all men could be most useful — in gathering the 
 
THE VOYAGEUK. 81 
 
 heathen into the fold of the church. There 
 were, doubtless, a few of another class; the 
 restless, intriguing, and disobedient, who, though 
 not formidable, were troublesome. But even 
 when these joined the missionary expeditions, 
 they did but little to forward the work, and are 
 entitled to none of the honor so abundantly due 
 to their more sincere brethren. To this class, 
 for example, belonged the false and egotistical 
 Hennepin, who only signalized himself by en- 
 deavoring to appropriate the reputation so 
 hardly won by the brave and unfortunate La 
 Salle.* 
 
 It does not appear upon the record that any 
 of these men — of either the restless and am- 
 bitious, or of the better class — were literally 
 sentaioay. But such has been the politic prac- 
 tice of this church for many ages ; and we may 
 safely believe, that when she was engaged in 
 an unscrupulous and desperate contest for the 
 recovery, by fair means or foul, of her immense 
 losses, there might be many in the ranks of her 
 pious priesthood whom it would be inconveni- 
 ent to retain at home. And during that conflict 
 
 * In a book which he published at Utrecht, in 1697, entitled 
 A Neto Discovery of a Vant Country, he claims to have gone 
 down the Mississippi to its mouth before La Salle. The whole 
 book is a mere plagiarism. See Sparks's Life of La Salle, 
 "where the vain father is summarily and justly disposed of. 
 4* 
 
83 WESTERN CHARACTERS, 
 
 especially, witli tlie most formidable enemies 
 she ever had, she could not afford to be encum- 
 bered. 
 
 But whatever may have been tlie motives of 
 their spiritual superiors, the missionaries them- 
 selves were moved only by the considerations 
 of which we have spoken — the truest piety 
 and the most burning zeal. Of these influences 
 they were conscious ; but we shall perhaps not 
 do the character injustice if we add another 
 spur to action, of which they were not con- 
 scious. There is a vein of romance in the 
 French comj)osition ; a love of adventure for 
 the sake of the adventure itself, which, when 
 not tamed or directed, makes a Frenchman fit- 
 ful, erratic, and unreliable. When it is toned 
 by i^ersonal ambition, it becomes a sort of Pala- 
 din contempt for danger ; sometimes a crazy 
 furor. "When accompanied by powerful intel- 
 lect, and strengthened by concentration on a 
 purpose, it makes a great commander — great 
 for the quickness of his comprehension, the 
 suddenness of his resolutions, the rapidity of 
 their execution. When humanized by love, 
 and quickened by religious zeal, it is purified 
 of every selfish thought, and produces the chiv- 
 alrous missionary, whom neither fire nor flood, 
 neither desert nor pathless wilderness, shall de- 
 
THE VOYAGlCUl^. 83 
 
 ter from obeying the command of Him who 
 sent his gospel " unto every creature." And 
 thus are even tliose traits, wliich so often curse 
 the world with insane ambition and sanguinary 
 Avar, turned by the power of a true benevolence 
 to be blessings of incalculable value. 
 
 Such were the purposes, such the motives, 
 of this band of noble men ; and whatever may 
 have been their errors, we must at least accord 
 them the virtues of sincerity^ courage^ and self- 
 denial. But let us look a little more closely at 
 the means by which they accomplished under- 
 takings which, to any other race of men, would 
 have been not only impracticable, but utterly 
 desperate. Take again, as the representative 
 of his class, the case of Father Marq uette, than 
 wdiom, obscure as his name is in the wastes of 
 history, no man ever lived a more instructive 
 and exemplary life. 
 
 From the year 1668 to 1671," Marquette had 
 been preaching at the Sault de Sainte Marie, a 
 little below the foot of Lake Superior. He was 
 associated with others in that mission; but the 
 largest type, though it thrust itself no higher 
 than the smallest, will make the broadest im- 
 press on the page of history ; and even in the 
 
 * Most of these dates mny be found in Bancroft's United 
 States, vyj ill. 
 
84 WESTEKN CIIAKACTEES. 
 
 meager record of that time, we may trace the 
 influence of his gentle but firm spirit — those 
 by whom he was accompanied evidently took 
 their tone from him. But he was one of the 
 Church's pioneers; that class whose eager, 
 single-hearted zeal is always pushing forward 
 to new conquests of the faith; and when he 
 had put aside the weapons that opposed their 
 way, to let his followers in, his thoughts at once 
 went on to more remote and suflering regions. 
 During his residence at tlie Sault, rumors and 
 legends were continually floating in of the un- 
 known country lying to the west — "the Land 
 of the Great Hiver," the Indians called it — • 
 until the mind of the good father became fully 
 possessed with the idea of going to convert the 
 nations who dwelt upon its shores. In the year 
 1671, he took the first step in that direction, 
 moving on to Point St. Ignatius, on the main 
 land, north of the island of Mackinac. Here, 
 surrounded by his little flock of wondering 
 listeners, he preached until the spring of 1673 ; 
 but all the time his wish to carry the gospel 
 where its sound had never been heard was 
 growing stronger. He felt in his heart the im- 
 pulse of his calling, to lead the way and open 
 a path for the advance of light. At the period 
 mentioned, he received an order from the wise 
 
THE VOYAGEUR. 85 
 
 intendant in ]^ew France, M. Talon, to explore 
 the patliless wilderness to the westward. 
 
 Then was seen the trne spirit of the man, and 
 of his order. He gathered together no arma- 
 ment ; asked the protection of no soldiers ; no 
 part of the cargo of his little boat consisted of 
 gunpowder, or of swords or guns ; his only arms 
 were the spirit of love and peace ; his trust was 
 in God for protection. Five boatmen, and one 
 companion, the Sieur Joliet, composed his par- 
 ty. Two light bark canoes were his only means 
 of travelling ; and in^these he carried a small 
 quantity of Indian corn and some jerked meat, 
 his only means of subsistence. 
 
 Thus equipped, lie set out through Green Bay 
 and up Fox river, in search of a country never 
 yet visited by any European. The Indians en- 
 deavored to dissuade him, wondering at his 
 hardihood, and still more at the motives which 
 could induce him thus to brave so many dan- 
 gers. They told him of the savage Indians, to 
 whom it would be only pastime to torture and 
 murder him ; of the terrible monsters which 
 would swallow him and his companions, 
 "canoes and all;" of the great bird called 
 the Piasau^"^ which devoured men, after car- 
 
 * The legend of the Piasau is well known. Within the rec- 
 ollection of men nov7 living, rude paintings of the monster 
 
86 WESTKEN CIIAI^ACTKHS. 
 
 rjing tliem in its horrible talons to inaccessible 
 cliffs and mountains ; and of the scorcliing 
 heat, which would wither him like a dry leaf. 
 "I thanked them kindly," says the resolute but 
 gentle father, " for their good counsel ; but I 
 told them that I could not profit by it, since the 
 salvation of souls was at stake, for which object 
 I would be overjoyed to give my life." Sha- 
 king them by the hand, one by one, as they ap- 
 proached to bid him farewell, as they thought, 
 for the last time, he turned his back upon safety 
 and peace, and departed^ upon his self-denying 
 pilgrimage. 
 
 Let him who sits at ease in his cushioned 
 2)ew at home — let him who lounges on his vel- 
 vet-covered sofa in the pulpit, while his well- 
 taught choir are singing ; who rises as the 
 strains are dying, and kneels upon a cushioned 
 stool to pray ; who treads upon soft carpets 
 while he preaches, in a white cravat, to con- 
 gregations clad in broadcloth, silk, and satin 
 — let him pause and ponder on the difference 
 between his works, his trials, his zeal — ay, and 
 his glory, both of earth and heaven ! — and those 
 of Father James Marcpiette ! 
 
 were visible on the cliffs above Alton, Illinois. To these im- 
 ages, when passing in their canoes, the Indians were accus- 
 tomed to make offerings of maize, tobacco, and gunpowder. 
 They are now quite obliterated. 
 
THE VOYAGEUR. 87 
 
 The little party went upon their way ; the 
 persuasions of their simple-hearted friends could 
 not prevail, for the path of duty was before 
 them, and the eje of God above. Having 
 passed through Green Bay, and painfully 
 dragged their canoes over the rapids of Fox 
 river, they reached a considerable village, in- 
 habited by the united tribes of Kickapoos, Mi- 
 amis, and Mascoutimes. Here the}^ halted for 
 a time, as the mariner, about to prove the dan- 
 gers of a long voyage, lingers for a day in the 
 last port he is likely to enter for many months. 
 Be3^ond this point no white man had ever 
 gone ; and here, if anywhere, the impulses of 
 a natural fear should have made themselves 
 felt. But we hear of no hesitation, no shrink- 
 ing from the perilous task ; and we know from 
 the unpretending "Journal" of the good lather, 
 that a retreat, nay, even a halt — longer than 
 was necessary to recruit exhausted strength, and 
 renew the memory of former lessons among the 
 natives — was never thought of. " My compan- 
 ion," said Marquette, referring to Joliet, " is 
 an envoy from the king of France, and I am 
 an humble minister of God. I have no fear, he- 
 ccmse I shall consider it the highest happiness 
 to die in the service of mtj master P'* There 
 was no bravado in this, for, unlike many from 
 
88 WESTERN CUARACTEES. 
 
 whom you may, any day, liear the same decla-* 
 ration, he set forth immediately to encounter 
 the perils of his embassy. 
 
 The Indians, unable to prevail with him to 
 abandon the enterjDrise, made all their simple 
 provision for his comfort ; and, furnishing him 
 with guides and carriers across the portage to 
 the Wisconsin river, parted with him as one 
 bound for eternity. Having brought them 
 safely to the river, the guides left them '' alone 
 in that unknown country, in the hand of God ;" 
 and, trusting to the protection of that hand^ 
 they set out upon their journey down the 
 stream."^ Seven days after, " with inexpres- 
 sible joy," they emerged upon the bosom of 
 the great river. During all this time they 
 had seen no human being, though, probably, 
 many a wandering savage had watched them 
 from the covert of the bank, as they floated 
 silently between the forests. It was an unbro- 
 ken solitude, where the ripple of their paddles 
 Bounded loudly on the ear, and their voices, 
 subdued by the stillness, were sent back in 
 lonely echoes from the shore. 
 
 They were the first white men who ever 
 floated on the bosom of that mighty riverf — 
 
 * June 10, ICZS. 
 
 f 1 mciin, of course, the upper Mis&issippi ; for De Soto bad 
 
THE VOYAGE UR. $9 
 
 " tlie envoy from the king of France, and the 
 embassador of the King of kings." What were 
 their thoughts we know not, but from Mar- 
 quette's simple " Journal ;" for, in returning to 
 Quebec, Joliet's boat was wrecked in sight of 
 the city, and all his papers lost.* Of the Sieur 
 himself, we know nothing, save as the compan- 
 ion of Marquette on this voyage ; but from 
 this alone his fame is imj^erishable. 
 
 They sailed slowly down the river, keeping 
 a constant outlook upon the banks for signs of 
 those for ^vhose spiritual welfare the good fa- 
 ther had undertaken his perilous journey. But 
 for more than sixty leagues not a human form 
 or habitation could be seen. They had leisure, 
 more than they desired, to admire the grand 
 and beautiful scenery of that picturesque re- 
 gion. In some places the cliiFs rose j^erpen- 
 dicularly for hundreds of feet from the water's 
 edge ; and nodding over their brows, and 
 towering against the sky, were stately pines 
 and cedars of the growth of centuries. Here, 
 
 reached it lower down one hundred and thirty-two years be- 
 fore. 
 
 * It was announced, some months since, that our minister at 
 Rome, Mr. Cass, had made discoveries in that city which threw 
 more light upon this expedition. But how this can be, con- 
 sistently with the fact stated in the text (about which there ie 
 no doubt), I am at a loss to divine. 
 
90 WESTEEN CHAEACTEES. 
 
 there Ifij between the river and tlie cliffs, a 
 level prairie, waving in all the luxuriance of 
 "the leafy month of Jnne ;" while beyond, the 
 bhifis, enclosing the natural garden, softened 
 by the distance, and clothed in evergreen, 
 seemed but an extension of the primitive sa- 
 vanna. Here, a dense, primeval forest grew 
 quite down to the margin of the water; and, 
 hanging from the topmost branches of the 
 giant oaks, festoons of gray and graceful moss 
 lay floating on the rippled surface, or dipped 
 within the tide. Here, the large, smooth roots of 
 trees half undermined, presented seats and foot- 
 holds, where the pleasant shade invited them to 
 rest, and shelter from the sultry summer sun. 
 Anon, an oDen prairie, with no cliff or bluff 
 beyond, extended undulating from the river, 
 until the%ye, in straining to measure its extent, 
 was wearied by the effort, and the plain be- 
 came a waving sea of rainbow colors ; of green 
 and yellow, gold and purple. Again, they 
 passed a gravelly beach, on which the yellow 
 sand was studded with a thousand sets of bril- 
 liant shells, and little rivulets flowed in from 
 level prairies, or stealthily crept out from un- 
 der roots of trees or tangled vines, and hastened 
 to be hidden in the bosom of the great fatlier 
 of waters. 
 
TKE TOYAGTXT?. 91 
 
 They floate;] on, tlirougli tlic dewj morning 
 Lours, when the leaves were shining in the sun- 
 light, and the birds were singing joyously ; be- 
 fore the summer lieat had dried the moisture, 
 or had forced the feathered songsters to the 
 shade. At noon, when the silence made the 
 solitude oppressive ; when the leaves hung 
 wilting down, nor fluttered in the fainting 
 wind : when the prairies were no longer wa- 
 ving like the sea, but trembling like the atmo- 
 sphere around a heated furnace : when the mi- 
 rage hung upon the plain : tall trees were seen 
 growing in the air, and among tliem stalked 
 the deer, and elk, and buffalo : while between 
 them and the ground, the brazen sky was glow- 
 ing with the sun of June : when nothing living 
 could be seen, save when the voyageur'^s ap- 
 proach would startle some wild beast slaking 
 liis thirst in tlie cool river, or a flock of water- 
 fowl were driven from their covert, where the 
 willow branches, drooping, dipped their leaves 
 of silvery gray within the water. They floated 
 on till evening, when the sun approached the 
 prairie, and his broad, round disc, now shorn of 
 its dazzling beams, defined itself against the 
 sky and grew florid in the gatliering haze: 
 when the birds began to rea})pear, and flitted 
 noiselessly among the trees, in busy prepara- 
 
92 WESTEEX CIIAEACTEES. 
 
 tion for tlie iiiglit: when beasts of prey crept 
 out from lurking-places, where they had dozed 
 and panted through the hours of noon : when 
 the wilderness grew vocal w^itli the mingled 
 sounds of lowing buffalo, and screaming pan- 
 ther, and howling wolf; until the shadows rose 
 fi'om earth, and travelled from the east; until 
 the dew began to fall, the stars came out, and 
 night brought rest and dreams of home ! 
 
 Thus they floated on, " from morn till dewy 
 eve," and still no sign of human life, neither 
 habitation nor footprint, until one day — it was 
 the twenty-fifth of June, more than two weeks 
 since they had entered the wilderness — in 
 gliding past a sandy beach, they recognised 
 the impress of a naked foot ! Following it for 
 some distance, it grew into a trail, and then a 
 path, once more a place where human beings 
 habitually walked. 
 
 Whose feet had trodden down the grass, what 
 strange people lived on the prairies, they knew 
 not, what dangers might await them, they cared 
 not. These w^ere the people whom the good 
 father had come so far to convert and save ! 
 And now, again, one might expect some natural 
 hesitation ; some doubt in venturing among 
 those who were certainly barbarians, and who 
 might, for aught they knew, be brutal canni- 
 
THE VOYAGEUR. 93 
 
 bals. We could forgive a little wavering, in- 
 deed, especially when we think of the frightful 
 stories told them by the ISTorthern Indians of 
 this very people. But fear was not a part of 
 these men's nature ; or if it existed, it lay so 
 deep, buried beneath religious zeal and pious 
 trust, that its voice never reached the upper 
 air. Leaving the boatmen with the canoes, 
 near the mouth of the river now called Des 
 Moines, Marquette and Joliet set out alone, 
 to follow up the trail, and seek the people 
 who had made it. It led them to an open 
 prairie, one of the most beautiful in the present 
 state of Iowa, and crossing this, a distance of 
 six miles, they at last found themselves in the 
 vicinity of three Indian villages. The very 
 spot* where the chief of these stood might now 
 be easily found, so clear, though brief, is the 
 description of the simple priest. It stood at the 
 foot of a long slope, on the bank of the river 
 Moingona (or Des Moines), about six miles due 
 west of the Mississippi ; and at the top of the 
 rise, at the distance of half a league, were built 
 
 * The place of Marquette's landing — which should be clas- 
 sic ground — from his description of the country, and the dis- 
 tance he specifies, could not have been far from the spot where 
 the city of Keokuk now stands, a short distance above the 
 mouth of the Des Moines. The locality should, if possible, be 
 determined. 
 
91 WESTEEN CHAKACTEES. 
 
 the two others. "We commended ourselves 
 unto God," writes the gentle father ; for they 
 knew not at what moment they might need his 
 intervention ; and crying out with a loud voice, 
 to announce their approach, they calmly ad- 
 vanced toward the group of lodges. At a short 
 distance from the entrance to the village, they 
 were met by a deputation of four old men, who, 
 to their great joy, they perceived bore a richly- 
 ornamented pipe of peace, the emblem of friend- 
 ship and hospitality. Tendering the mysterious 
 calumet, they informed the Frenchmen that 
 they belonged to one of the tribes called " Illi- 
 nois" (or " Men"), and invited them to enter 
 their lodges in peace : an invitation which the 
 weary vogagews were but too glad to accept. 
 
 A great council was held, with all the rude 
 but imposing ceremonies of the grave and dig- 
 nified Indian ; and before the assembled chiefs 
 and braves, Marquette published his mission 
 from his heavenly Master. Passing, then, from 
 spiritual to temporal things — for we do not 
 hear of any address from Joliet, who probably 
 was no orator — he spoke of his earthly king, 
 and of his viceroy in New France ; of his vic- 
 tories over the Iroquois, the dreaded enemies 
 of the peaceful Western tribes; and then made 
 many inquiries about the Mississippi, its tribu- 
 
THE V(A'Agei:k. 95 
 
 tarles, and the nations who dwelt npon tlieii* 
 banks. His advances were kindly received, 
 liis questions frankly answered, and tlie council 
 broke up with mutual assurances of good-will. 
 Then ensued the customary festival. Homminy, 
 fish, buffalo, and dog-meat^ were successively 
 served up, like the courses of a more modern 
 table ; but of the last " we declined to partake," 
 writes the good father, no doubt much to the 
 astonishment and somewhat to the chagrin of 
 their hospitable friends ; for even yet, among 
 the western Indians, dog-meat is a dish of honor. 
 Six days of friendly intercourse passed pleas- 
 antly away, diversified by many efforts on the 
 part of Marquette to instruct and convert the 
 docile savages. ]^or were these entirely with- 
 out result ; they excited, at least, the wish to 
 hear more ; and on his departure tliey crowded 
 round him, and urgently requested him to come 
 again among them. He promised to do so, a 
 pledge which he afterward redeemed. But 
 now he could not tarry ; he was bent upon his 
 hazardous voyage down the Great River, and 
 he knew that he was only on the threshold of 
 his grand discoveries. Six hundred warriors, 
 commanded by their most distinguished chief, 
 accompanied him back to his boats; and, after 
 hanging around his neck the great calumet, to 
 
96 WESTEEN CIIA11ACTEE3. 
 
 protect liim among the liostile nations of the 
 south, they parted with him, praying that the 
 Great Spirit, of whom he had told them, might 
 give him a prosperous voyage, and a speedy 
 and safe return. 
 
 These were the first of the nations of the 
 Mississij^pi Valley visited by the French, and 
 it is from them that the state of Illinois takes 
 its name. They were a singularly gentle people ; 
 and a nature originally peaceful had been ren- 
 dered .almost timid by the cruel inroads of the 
 murderous Iroquois.* These, by their traffic 
 with the Dutch and English, of [N'ew-York, and 
 by their long warfare with the French of Cana- 
 da, had acquired the use of fire-arms, and, of 
 course, possessed an immense advantage over 
 those who were armed only with the primitive 
 bow and arrow. The restless and ambitious 
 spirit of the singular confederacy, usually call- 
 ed the Five I^ations, and known among their 
 neighbors by the collective name of Iroquois, 
 had carried their incursions even as far as 
 the hunting-grounds of the Shawanese, about 
 
 * It was by virtue of a treaty of purchase — signed at Fort 
 Stanwix on the 5th of November, 1768 — with the Six Nations, 
 who claimed the country as their conquest, that the British as- 
 flerted a title to the country west of the Alleghanies, "Western 
 Virginia, Kentucky, etc. 
 
THE VOYAGEUK. 97 
 
 the moutli of the Ohio; and their successes 
 had made them a terror to all the western 
 tribes. The Illinois, therefore, knowing the 
 French to be at war with these formidable ene- 
 mies, were the more anxious to form an alliance 
 with them ; and the native gentleness of their 
 manners was, perhaps, increased bj the hope 
 of assistance and protection. But, whatever 
 motives may have influenced 'them, besides 
 their natural character, their forethought was 
 of vital service to the wanderers in the countries 
 of the south, whither they proceeded. 
 
 The little party of seven resumed their voy- 
 age on the last day of June, and floating with 
 the rapid current, a few days afterward passed 
 the rocks, above the site of Alton, where was 
 painted the image of the ravenous Piasau^ of 
 which they had been told by the E'orthern In- 
 dians, and on the same day reached the mouth 
 of the Pekitanoni, the Indian name for the 
 rapid and turbulent Missouri. Inwardly resolv- 
 ing, at some future time, to ascend its muddy 
 current, to cross the ridge beyond, and, de- 
 scending some river which falls into the Great 
 South sea (as the Pacific was then called), to 
 publish the gospel to all the people of the con- 
 tinent, the zealous father passed onward toward 
 the south. Coasting slowly along the wasting 
 
98 AVESTEKN CIIAEACTEES. 
 
 shore, lingering in tlie months of rivers, or ex- 
 ploring dense forests in the hope of meeting the 
 natives, they continued on their course until 
 they reached the mouth of a river which they 
 called the Ouabache^ or Wabash, none otlier 
 than the beautiful Ohio."^ Here they found 
 the advanced settlement of Sliawanese, who had 
 been pushed toward the southwest by the in- 
 cessant attacks of the Iroquois. But by this 
 time, fired with the hope of ascertaining the 
 outlet of the Mississippi, they postponed their 
 visit to these people until their return, and 
 floated on. 
 
 It is amusing, as well as instructive, to observe 
 how little importance the travellers gave to the 
 river Ohio, in their geographical assumptions. 
 In the map published by Marquette with his 
 "Journal," the " Oucibisquigou^^'' as he denomi- 
 nates it, in euphonious French-Indian, com- 
 pared to the Illinois or even to the Wisconsin, 
 is but an inconsiderable rivulet ! The lonely 
 
 * The geographical mistakes of the early French explorers 
 have led to some singular discussions about Western history — 
 have even been used by diplomatists to support or weaken 
 territorial claims. Such, for example, is the question concern- 
 ing the antiquity of Vincennes, a controversy founded on the 
 mistake noticed in tlie text. Vide Western Annals. 2d Ed. 
 Revised by J. M. Peck. 
 
THE VOYAGEUK. 99 
 
 wanderers were mucli farther from the English 
 settlements than they supposed ; a mistake into 
 which they must have been led, by hearing of 
 the incursions of the Iroquois ; for even at that 
 early day they could not but know that the 
 head-waters of the Ohio were not distant from 
 the hunting-grounds of that warlike confeder- 
 acy. Even this explanation, however, scarcely 
 lessens our wonder that they should have known 
 80 little of courses and distances ; for had this 
 river been as short as it is here delineated, they 
 would have been within four hundred miles of 
 Montreal. 
 
 After leaving the Ohio, they suffered much 
 from the climate and its incidents; for they 
 were now approaching, in the middle of July, 
 a region of perpetual summer. Mosquitoes 
 and other venomous insects (in that region we 
 might even call them ravenous insects) became 
 intolerably annoying ; and the voyageurs began 
 to think they had reached the country of the 
 terrible heats, which, as they had been warned 
 in the north, " would wither them up like a dry 
 leaf" But the prospect of death by torture and 
 savage cruelty had not daunted them, and they 
 were not now disposed to be turned back by 
 any excess of climate. Arranging their sails 
 in tlie form of awnings to protect them from 
 
100 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 
 
 the sun bj daj and the dews by night, they 
 resolutely pursued their way. 
 
 Following the course of the river, they soon 
 entered the region of cane-brakes, so thick that 
 no animal larger than a cat could penetrate 
 them ; and of cotton-wood forests of immense 
 size and of unparalleled density. They were 
 far beyond the limits of every Indian dialect 
 with which they had become acquainted — 
 were, in fact, approaching the region visited 
 by De Soto, on his famous expedition in search 
 of Juan Ponce de Leon's fountain of youth."^ 
 The country was possessed by the Sioux and 
 Chickasaws, to whom the voyageurs were total 
 strangers ; but they went on without fear. In 
 the neighborhood of the southern boundary of 
 the j)resent state of Arkansas, they were met 
 in hostile array by great numbers of the na- 
 tives, who approached them in large canoes 
 made from the trunks of hollow trees. But 
 Marquette held aloft the symbol of peace, the 
 ornamented calumet, and the hearts of the sav- 
 ages were melted, as the pious father believed, 
 by the touch of God. They threw aside their 
 
 * In 1541, De Soto crossed the Mississippi about the thirty- 
 fifth parallel of latitude, or near the northern boundary of the 
 state of that name. It is not certain how far below this Mar- 
 quette went, though we are safe in saying that he did not turn 
 back north of that limit. 
 
TUE VOYAGEUE. 
 
 101 
 
 weapons, and received the strangers with rude 
 but hearty hospitality. They escorted tliem, 
 with many demonstrations of welcome, to the 
 village of Michigamia ; and, on the following 
 day, having feasted their strange guests plenti- 
 fully, though not with the unsavory meats of the 
 Illinois, they marched in triumphal procession 
 to the metropolis of Akansea, about ten leagues 
 distant, down the river. 
 
 This was the limit of their voyage. Here 
 they ascertained, beyond a doubt, that the Mis- 
 sissippi flowed into the gulf of Mexico, and not, 
 as had been conjectured, into the great South 
 sea. Here they found the natives armed with 
 axes of steel, a proof of their traffic with the 
 Spaniards ; and thus was the circle of discovery 
 complete, connecting the explorations of the 
 French with those of the Spanish, and entirely 
 enclosing the possessions of the English. No 
 voyage so important has since been under- 
 taken—no results so great have ever been 
 produced by so feeble an expedition. The 
 discoveries of Marquette, followed by the en- 
 terprises of La Salle and his successors, havo 
 influenced the destinies of nations ; and passing 
 over all political speculations, this exploration 
 first threw open a valley of greater extent, fer- 
 
102 WESTERN CnARACTEKS. 
 
 tility, and commercial advantages, than any 
 other in the world. Had either the French or 
 the Spanish possessed the stubborn qualities 
 which Kold^ as thej had tlie useful which dis- 
 cover^ the aspect of this continent would, at 
 this day, have been far diiferent. 
 
 On the seventeenth of Jnly, having preached 
 to the Indians the glory of God and the Catho- 
 lic faith, and proclaimed the power of the 
 Grand Monarque — for still we hear nothing 
 of speech-making or delivering credentials on 
 the part of Joliet — he set out on his return. 
 After severe and wasting toil for many days, 
 they reached a point, as Marquette supposed, 
 some leagues below the mouth of the Moin- 
 gona, or Des Moines. Here they left the Mis- 
 sissippi, and crossed the country between that 
 river and the Illinois, probably passing through 
 the very country which now bears the good fa- 
 ther's name, entering the latter stream at a 
 point not far from the present town of Peoria. 
 Proceeding slowly np that calm river, preach- 
 ing to the tribes along its banks, and partaking 
 of their hospitality, he was at last conducted to 
 Lake Michigan, at Chicago, and by the end of 
 September was safe again in Green Bay, having 
 travelled, since the tenth of June, more than 
 three thousand miles. 
 
THE VOYAGKUR. 103 
 
 It might have heeii expected that one wlio 
 Lad made so magnificent a discovery — who 
 had braved so much and endured so much — 
 would wish to announce in person, to the au- 
 thorities in Canada, or in France, the results 
 of his expedition. Na}^ it would not have 
 been unpardonable had he desired to enjoy, 
 after his labors, something of the consideration 
 to which their success entitled him. And, cer- 
 tainly, no man could ever have approached his 
 rulers with a better claim upon their notice than 
 could the unpretending voyageiir. But vain- 
 glory was no more a part of his nature, than 
 was fear. The unaspiring priest remained at 
 Green Bay, to continue, or rather to resume, as 
 a task laid aside only for a time, his ministra- 
 tions to the savages. Joliet hastened on to 
 Quebec to report the expedition, and Mar- 
 quette returned to Cliicago, for the purpose of 
 preaching the gospel to the Miami confederacy; 
 several allied tribes w^ho occupied the country 
 between Lake Michigan and the Des Moines 
 river. Here again he visited the Illinois, 
 speaking to them of God, and of the religion 
 of Jesus; thus redeeming a promise w^hicli he 
 had made them, when on his expedition to the 
 South. 
 
 B.ut his useful, unambitious life was drawing 
 
104 WESTERN CHAKACTEES. 
 
 to a close. Let us describe its last scene in the 
 words of our accomplished historian : — • 
 
 " Two years afterward, sailing from Chicago 
 to Mackinac, he entered a little river in Michi- 
 gan. Erecting an altar, he said mass, after the 
 rites of the Catholic church ; then, begging the 
 men who conducted his canoe to leave him 
 alone for a half hour, 
 
 'In the darkling wood, 
 
 Amid the cool and silence, he knelt down, 
 And offered to the mightiest solemn thanks 
 And supplication.' 
 
 At the end of the half hour they went to seek 
 him, and he loas no more. The good mission- 
 ary, discoverer of a world, had fallen asleep on 
 the margin of the stream that bears his name. 
 Near its mouth, the canoe-men dug his grave 
 in the sand. Ever after, the forest rangers, in 
 their danger on Lake Michigan, would invoke 
 his name. The peoj)le of the West will build 
 his monument."* 
 
 The monument is not yet built ; though the 
 name of new counties in several of our western 
 states testifies that the noble missionary is not 
 altogether forgotten, in the land where he spent 
 so many self-denying years. 
 
 * Bancroft's History of the United States, vol. iii., p. 161, et 
 seq., where the reader maj look for most of these dates. 
 
THE VOYAGE UK. 105 
 
 Sncli was the voyageicr priest; the first, in 
 chronological order, of the succession of singu- 
 lar men who have explored and peopled the 
 great West. And though many who have fol- 
 lowed him have been his equals in courage and 
 endurance, none have ever possessed the same 
 combination of heroic and unselfish qualities. 
 It ought not to be true that this brief and cur- 
 sory sketch is the first distinct tribute yet paid 
 to his virtues ; for no worthier subject ever em- 
 ployed the pen of the poet or historian. 
 
 Note. — Struck with the fact that the history of this class of 
 men, and of their enterprises and sufferings, has never been 
 written, except by themselves in their simple "Journals" and 
 " Relations" — for the resume given of these by Sparks, Ban- 
 croft, and others, is of necessity a mere unsatisfactory abstract 
 — the writer has for some time been engaged in collecting and 
 arranging materials, with the intention of supplying the want. 
 The authorities are numerous and widely scattered ; and such 
 a work ought to be thoroughly and carefully written, so that 
 much time and labor lies between the author and his day of 
 publication. Should he be spared, however, to finish the work, 
 he hopes to present a picture of a class of men, displaying as 
 much of wf ue devotion, genuine courage, and self-denial, in the 
 humble walk of the missionary, as the pages of history show 
 in any other department of human enterprise. 
 
 5* 
 
/flu 
 
 III. 
 
 THE PIONEEK. 
 
 " I hrar the tn-nd of pioneers, 
 Of nations yet to be — 
 The first low wash of waves where soon 
 Shall roll a human sen." 
 
 Whittikb. 
 
 The axe rani; pharply 'mid those forest shades 
 Which, from creation, toward the sky had towered 
 lu unshorn beauty." 
 
 SiGOURNSY. 
 
 Next, ill clironological order, after the mis- 
 sionary, came the military adventurer — of 
 which chiss La Salle was the best representa- 
 tive. But the expeditions led by these men, 
 were, for the most pai't, wild and visionary en- 
 terprises, in jnirsuit of unattainable ends. They 
 were, moreover, unskilfully managed and un- 
 fortunately terminated — generally ending in 
 the defeat, disappointment, and death of those 
 who had set them on foot. They left no per- 
 manent impress upon the country ; the most 
 
r II r, I' I .) .\ i: i: k. 
 
THE PIONEER. 107 
 
 acute moral or political vision can not now de- 
 tect a trace of their influence, in the aspect of 
 tlie lands they penetrated ; and, so far from 
 hastening the settlement of the Great Yalley, it 
 is more probable that their disastrous failures 
 ratlier retarded it — by deterring others from 
 the undertaking. Their history reads like a 
 romance ; and tlieir cliaracters would better 
 grace the pages of fiction, than the annals of 
 civilization. Further than this brief reference, 
 therefore, I find no place for them, in a work 
 which aims only to notice those who either aid- 
 ed to produce, or indicated, the characteristics 
 of the society in which they lived. 
 
 Soon after them, came the Indian-traders — 
 to whose generosity so many of the captives, 
 taken by the natives in those early times, 
 were indebted for their ransom. But — not- 
 w^ithstanding occasional acts of charity — their 
 unscrupulous rapacity, and, particularly, their 
 introduction of spirituous liquors among the 
 savages, furnish good reason to doubt, whether, 
 on the whole, they did anything to advance the 
 civilization of the lands and people they visit- 
 ed. And, as we shall have occasion to refer 
 again, though briefly, to the character in a sub- 
 sequent article, we will pass over it for the pres- 
 ent, and hasten on to the Pioneer. 
 
108 WESTEBN CHAEACTEKS. 
 
 Of this class, there are two sub-divisions : the 
 floatiDg, transitory, and erratic frontierman — 
 inchiding the hunter, the trapper, the scout 
 and Indian-fighter : men who can not be consid- 
 ered citizens of any country, but keep always a 
 little in advance of permanent emigration. "With 
 this division of the class, we have little to do : 
 first, because they are already well understood, 
 by most readers in this country, through the 
 earlier novels of Cooper, their great delineator ; 
 and, sec.ond, because, as we have intimated, our 
 business is chiefly with those, whose footprints 
 have been stamped upon the country, and 
 whose influence is traceable in its civilization. 
 "We, therefore, now desire to direct attention to 
 the other sub-division — the genuine ''settler;" 
 the firm, unflinching, permanent emigrant, who 
 entered the country to till the land and to pos- 
 sess it, for himself and his descendants. 
 
 And, in the first place, let us inquire what 
 motives could induce men to leave regions, 
 where the axe had been at work for many 
 years — where the land was reduced to culti- 
 vation, and the forest reclaimed from the wild 
 beast and the wilder savage — where civiliza- 
 tion had begun to exert its power, and society 
 had assumed a legal and determined shape — 
 to depart from all these things, seeking a new 
 
THE PIONEEK. 109 
 
 home in an inhospitable wilderness, where they 
 could only gain a footing by sev^ere labor, con- 
 stant strife, and sleepless vigilance? To be 
 capable of doing all this, from amj motive, a 
 man must be a strange compound of qualities; 
 but that compound, strange as it is, has done, 
 and is doing, more to reclaim the west, and 
 change the wilderness into a garden, than all 
 other causes combined. 
 
 A prominent trait in the character of the 
 genuine American, is the desire " to better his 
 condition" — a peculiarity which sometimes 
 embodies itself in the disposition to forget the 
 good old maxim, " Let well-enough alone," and 
 not unfrequently leads to disaster and suffer- 
 ing. \ A thorough Yankee — using that word as 
 the English do, to indicate national, not sec- 
 tional, character — is never satisfied with doing 
 well ; he always underrates his gains and his 
 successes; and, though to others he may be 
 boastful enough, and may, even truly, rate the 
 profits of his enterprise by long strings of 
 " naught," he is always whispering to himself, 
 "I ought to do better." If he sees any one 
 accumulating property faster than himself, he 
 becomes emulo'is and discontented — he is apt 
 to think, unless he goes more rapidly than any 
 
110 WESTERN CIIARACTEES. 
 
 one else, that he is not moving at all. If he 
 can find no one of his neighbors advancing 
 toward fortune, with longer strides than he, he 
 will imagine some successful " speculator," to 
 whom he will compare himself, and chafe at 
 his inferiority to a figment of his own fancy. 
 If he possessed " a million a minute," he w^ould 
 cast about for some profitable employment, in 
 which he might engage, " to pay expenses." 
 He will abandon a silver-mine, of slow, but cer- 
 tain gains, for the gambling chances of a gold 
 "placer;" and if any one within his knowledge 
 dig out more wealth than he, he will leave the 
 " diggings," though his success be quite en- 
 couraging, and go quixoting among the islands 
 of the sea, in search of pearls and diamonds. 
 "With the prospect of improvement in his for- 
 tunes — whether that prospect be founded upon 
 reason, be a naked fancy, or the oflTspring of 
 mere discontent — he regards no danger, cares 
 for no hardship, counts no suffering. Every- 
 thing must bend before the ruling passion, " to 
 better his condition." 
 
 His spirit is eminently encroaching. Rather 
 than give up any of his own "rights," he will 
 take a part of what belongs to others. What- 
 ever he thinks necessary to his welfare, to that 
 he believes himself entitled. To whatever 
 
THE PIONEER. Ill 
 
 point lie desires to reach, lie takes the etraight- 
 est course, even though the way lie across the 
 corner of his neighbor's field. Yet he is in- 
 tensely jealous of his own possessions, and 
 warns off all trespassers with an imperial men- 
 ace of " the utmost penalty of the law." He 
 has, of course, an excellent opinion of himself 
 — and justly: for when not blinded by cupid- 
 ity or vexed by opposition, no man can hold 
 the scales of justice with a more even hand. 
 
 He is seldom conscious of having done a 
 wrong : for he rarely moves until he has ascer- 
 tained " both the propriety and expediency of 
 the motion." He has, therefore, an instinctive 
 aversion to all retractions and apologies. He 
 has such a proclivity to the forward movement, 
 that its opposite, even when truth and justice 
 demand it, is stigmatized, in his vocabulary, 
 by odious and ridiculous comparisons. He is 
 very stubborn, and, it is feared, sometimes mis- 
 takes his obstinacy for firmness. He thinks a 
 safe retreat worse than a defeat with slaughter. 
 Yet he never rests under a reverse, and, though 
 manifestly prostrate, will never acknowledge 
 that he is beaten. A check enrages him more 
 than a decided failure : for so long as his end is 
 not accomplished, nor defeated, he can see no 
 reason why he should not succeed. If his forces 
 
112 WESTERN CHAKACTEES. 
 
 are driven back, sliattered and destroyed, he is 
 not cast down, but angrj — he forthwith swears 
 vengeance and another triaL He is quite in- 
 satiable — as a failure does not dampen him, 
 success can never satisfy him. His plans are 
 always on a great scale ; and, if they sometimes 
 exceed his means of execution, at least, " he 
 who aims at the sun," though he may lose his 
 arrow, " will not strike the ground." He is a 
 great projector — but he is eminently practi- 
 cal, as well as theoretical ; and if lie cannot 
 realize his visions, no other man need try. 
 
 He is restless and migratory. He is fond of 
 change, for the sake of the change ; and he will 
 have it, though it bring him only new labors 
 and new hardships. He is, withal, a little sel- 
 fish — as might be supposed. He begins to 
 lose his attachment to the advantages of his 
 home, so soon as they are shared by others. 
 He does not like near neighbors — has no affec- 
 tion for the soil ; he will leave a place on which 
 he has expended much time and labor, as soon 
 as the region grows to be a "settlement." 
 Even in a town, he is dissatisfied if his next 
 neighbor lives so near that the women can 
 gossip across the division-fence. He likes to 
 be at least one day's journey from the nearest 
 plantation. 
 
THE PIONEER. 113 
 
 I once heard an old pioneer assign as a rea- 
 son why he must emigrate from western Illi- 
 nois, the fact that " people were settling right 
 under his nose" — and the farm of his nearest 
 neighbor was twelv^e miles distant, by the sec- 
 tion lines ! lie moved on to Missouri, but there 
 tlie same "impertinence" of emigrants soon fol- 
 lowed him ; and, abandoning his half-finished 
 " clearing," he packed his family and house- 
 hold goods in a little wagon, and retreated, 
 across the phains to Oregon. He is — or was, 
 two years ago — living in the valley of the 
 "Willamette, where, doubtless, he is now cha- 
 fing under the afiiiction of having neighbors in 
 the same region, and nothing but an ocean be- 
 yond. 
 
 His character seems to be hard-featured. 
 
 But he is neither unsocial, nor morose. He 
 welcomes the stranger as heartily as the most 
 hospitable patriarch. He receives the sojourn- 
 er at his fireside without question. He regales 
 him with the best the house affords : is always 
 anxious to have him " stay another day." He 
 cares for his horse, renews his harness, laughs 
 at his stories, and exchanges romances with him. 
 He hunts with him ; fishes, rides, walks, talks, 
 eats, and drinks with him. His wife washes 
 and mends the stranger's shirts, and lends him 
 
114 WESTEKN CnAKACTERS. 
 
 a needle aiui thread to sew a button on liis 
 onlv pair of pantaloons. The children sit on 
 ]iis knee, the dog lies at his feet, and accom- 
 panies him into the woods. The whole family 
 are his friends, and only grow cold and distant 
 when thev learn that he is looking for land, 
 and thinks of '' settling'' within a few leagues. 
 It' nothing of the sort occurs — and this only 
 ** leaks out" by accident, for the pioneer never 
 pries inquisitively into the business of hisguest, 
 he keeps him as long as he can ; and when he 
 can stay no longer, fills his saddle-bags with 
 flitches of bacon and " pones'' of corn-bread, 
 shakes him heartily by the hand, exacts a 
 promise to stop again on his return, and bids 
 him '"God-speed" on his journey. 
 
 Such is American character, in the manifes- 
 tations which have most affected the settlement 
 and development of the "V7est ; a compound of 
 many noble qualities, with a few — and no na- 
 tion is without such — that are not quite so re- 
 spectable. All these, both good and bad, wei*e 
 possessed by the early pioneer in an eminent, 
 sometimes in an extravao^ant dcirree ; and the 
 circumstances, by which he found himself sur- 
 rounded after his emigration to tlie "West, 
 tended forciblv to their exa^r^eration. 
 
THE riONEER. 115 
 
 But tlic qualities — positive und negative — 
 above enumerated, were, many of them, at 
 least, peculiarities belonging to the early emi- 
 grant, as much before as after his removal. 
 And there were others, quite as distinctly 
 marked, called into activity, if not actually 
 created by his life in the wilderness. Such, 
 for example, was his self-reliance — his con- 
 fidence in his own strength, sagacity, and cour- 
 age. It was but little assistance that he ever 
 required from liis neighbors, though no man 
 was ever more willing to render it to others, in 
 the hour of need. He was the swift avenger 
 of his own wrongs, and he never appealed to 
 another to ascertain his rights. Legal tribu- 
 nals were an abomination to him. Government 
 functionaries he hated, almost as the Irish hate 
 excisemen. Assessments and taxes he could 
 not endure, for, since he was his own protector, 
 he had no interest in sustaining the civil author- 
 ities. 
 
 Military organizations he despised, for sub- 
 ordination was no part of his nature. lie stood 
 np in the native dignity of manhood, and called 
 no mortal his superior. "When he joined his 
 neighbors, to avenge a foray of the savages, he 
 joined on the most equal terms — each man 
 was, for the time, his own captain ; and when 
 
110 WESTERN CHAKACTEES. 
 
 tlie leader was chosen — for the pioneers, with 
 all their personal independence, were far too 
 rational to underrate the advantages of a head 
 in the hour of danger — each voice was counted 
 in the choice, and the election might fall on 
 any one. But, even after such organization, 
 every man was fully at liberty to abandon the 
 expedition, whenever he became dissatisfied, or 
 thought proper to return home. And if this 
 want of discipline sometimes impaired the 
 strength, and rendered unavailing the eiforts, 
 of communities, it at least fostered the manly 
 spirit of personal independence ; and, to keep 
 that alive in the breasts of a people, it is worth 
 while to pay a yearly tribute, even though that 
 tribute be rendered unto the King of Terrors ! 
 
 This self reliance was not an arrogant and 
 vulgar egotism, as it has been so often repre- 
 sented in western stories, and the tours of super- 
 ficial travellers. It was a calm, just estimate 
 of his own capabilities — a well-grounded con- 
 tfidence in his own talents — a clear, manly 
 jinderstanding of his own individual rights, dig- 
 nity, and relations. Sucli is the western defini- 
 tion of independence ; and if there be anything 
 of it in the w^estern character at the present day, 
 it is due to the stubborn and intense individu- 
 ality of the first pioneer. He it was who laid 
 
THE PIONEER. 117 
 
 the foundation of our social fabric, and it is his 
 spirit which yet purv^ades our peoj^le. 
 
 The quality whi-cli next appears, in analyzing 
 this cliaracter, is his courtage. 
 
 It was not mere physical courage, nor was it 
 stolid carelessness of danger. The pioneer 
 knew, perfectly well, the full extent of the 
 peril that surrounded him ; indeed, he could 
 not be ignorant of it; for almost every day 
 brought some new memento, either of his sav- 
 age foe, or of the prowling beast of prey. He 
 ploughed, and sowed, and reaped, and gathered, 
 with the rifle slung over his shoulders ; and, at 
 every turn, he halted, listening, with his ear 
 turned toward his home ; for well he knew 
 that, any moment, the scream of his wife, or 
 the wail of his children, might tell of the up- 
 lifted tomahawk, or the murderous scalping- 
 knife. 
 
 His courage, then, was not ignorance of dan- 
 ger — not that of the child, which thrusts its 
 hand within the lion's jaws, and knows naught 
 of the penalty it braves. His ear was ever 
 listening, his eye was always watching, his 
 nerves were ever strung, for battle. He was 
 stout of heart, and strong of hand — he was 
 calm, sagacious, unterrified. He was never 
 
118 WESTERN CHAKACTERS. 
 
 disconcerted — excitement seldom moved liim 
 — his mind was always at its own command. 
 His heart never lost its firmness — no suffering 
 could overcome him — he was as stoical as the 
 savage, whose greatest glory is to triumph 
 amidst the most cruel tortures. His pride sus- 
 tained him when his flesh was pierced with 
 burning brands — when his muscles crisped 
 and crackled in the flames. To the force of 
 character, belonging to the- white, he added the 
 savage virtues of the red man ; and many a 
 captive has been rescued from the flames, 
 through his stern contempt for torture, and his 
 sneering triumph over his tormentors. The 
 highest virtue of the savage was his fortitude ; 
 and he respected and admired even a "pale 
 face," who emulated his endurance. 
 
 But fortitude is only passive courage — and 
 the bravery of the pioneer was eminently ac- 
 tive. His vengeance was as rapid as it was 
 sometimes cruel. Ko odds against him could 
 deter him, no time was ever wasted in delibera- 
 tion. If a depredation was committed in the 
 night, the dawn of morning found the sufferer 
 on the trail of the marauder. He would follow 
 it for days, and even weeks, with the sagacity 
 of the blood-hound, with the patience of the 
 savage : and, perhaps, in the very midst of the 
 
THE PIONEER. 119 
 
 Indian country, in some moment of security, 
 the blow descended, and the injury was fear- 
 fully avenged ! The debt was never suft'ered 
 to accumulate, when it could be discharged by 
 prompt payment — and it was never forgotten ! 
 If the account could not be balanced now, the 
 obligation was treasured up for a time to come 
 — and, when least expected, the debtor came, 
 and paid with usury ! 
 
 It has been said, perhaps truly, that a fierce, 
 bloody spirit ruled the settlers in those early 
 days. And it is unquestionable, that much of 
 that contempt for the slow vengeance of a legal 
 proceeding, which now distinguishes the peo- 
 ple of the frontier west, originated then. It 
 "was, doubtless, an unforgiving — eminently an 
 unchristian — spirit: but vengeance, sure and 
 swift, was the only thing which could impress 
 the hostile savage. And, if example, in a mat- 
 ter of this sort, could be availing, for their 
 severity to the Indians, they had the highest ! 
 
 The eastern colonists — good men and true 
 ■ — " willing to exterminate the savages," says 
 Bancroft,* who is certainly not their enemy, 
 offered a bounty for every Indian scalp — as 
 
 * History of the United States, vol. iii., p. 336. Enacted in 
 Massachusetts. 
 
120 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 
 
 we, in the west, do for the scalps of wolves ! 
 *'To regular forces under pay, the grant was 
 ten pounds — to volunteers, in actual service, 
 twice that sum ; but if men would, of them- 
 selves, without pay, make up parties and patrol 
 the forests in search of Indians, as of old the 
 woods were scoured for wild heasts^ the chase 
 was invigorated by the promised " encourage- 
 ment of ^(^y pounds per scalp !' " The '^fruit- 
 less cruelties" of the Indian allies of the French 
 in Canada, says the historian, gave birth to these 
 humane and nicely-graduated enactments ! ISTor 
 is our admiration of their Christian spirit in the 
 least diminished, when we reflec.t that nothing 
 is recorded in history of " bounties on scalps" 
 or "encouragement" to murder, offered by 
 Frontenac, or any other French-Canadian gov- 
 ernor, as a revenge for the horrible massacre at 
 Montreal, or the many " fruitless cruelties" of 
 the bloody Iroquois !* 
 
 The descendants of the men who gave these 
 "bounties" and "encouragements," have, in our 
 own day, caressed, and wept and lamented over 
 the tawny murderer, Black-Hawk, and his 
 " wrongs" and " misfortunes ;" but the theatre 
 
 * A detailed and somewhat tedious account of these savage 
 inroads, may be found in Warburton's Conquest of Canada^ 
 published by Harpers. New-York. 1860. 
 
THE riONEER. 121 
 
 of Indian warfare was then removed a little 
 farther west; and the atrocities of Haverhill 
 and Deerfield were perpetrated on the western 
 prairies, and not amid the forests of the east ! 
 Yet I do not mean, by referring to this passage 
 of history — or to the rivers of wasted senti- 
 ment poured out a few years ago — so much to 
 condemn our forefathers, or to draw invidious 
 comparisons between them and others, as to 
 show, that the war of extermination, sometimes 
 waged by western rangers, was not without ex- 
 ample — that the cruelty and hatred of the j)io- 
 neer to the barbarous Indian, might originate 
 in exasperation, which even moved the puri- 
 tans ; and that the lamentations, over the ficti- 
 tious " wrongs" of a turbulent and bloody sav- 
 age, might have run in a channel nearer home. 
 
 Hatred of the Indian, among the pioneers, 
 was hereditary ; there was scarcely a man on 
 the frontier, who had not lost a father, a moth- 
 er, or a brother, by the tomahawk ; and not a 
 few of them had suffered in their own persons. 
 The child, who learned the rudiments of his 
 scanty education at his mother's knee, must 
 decipher the strange characters by the strag- 
 gling light which penetrated the crevices be- 
 tween the logs ; for, while the father was ab- 
 
 6 
 
122 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 
 
 sent, ill the field or on tlie war-patli, tlie mother 
 was obliged to bar the doors and barricade tlie 
 windows against the savages. Thus, if he did 
 not literally imbibe it with his mother's milk, 
 one of the first things the pioneer learned, was 
 dread, and consequently hatred, of the Indian. 
 That feeling grew with his growth, strength- 
 ened with his strength — for a life upon the 
 western border left but few days free from 
 Bights of blood or mementoes of the savage. The 
 pioneer might go to the field in the morning, 
 unsuspecting ; and, at noon, returning, find his 
 wife murdered and scalped, and the brains of 
 his little ones dashed out against his own door- 
 post! And if a deadly hatred of the Indian 
 took possession of his heart, who shall blame 
 him? It may be said, the pioneer was an in- 
 truder, seeking to take forcible possession of the 
 Indian's lands — and that it was natural that 
 the Indian should resent the wrong after the 
 manner of his race. Granted : and it was quite 
 as natural that the pioneer should return the 
 enmity, after the manner of his race ! 
 
 But the pioneer was not an intruder. 
 
 For all the purposes, fur which reason and the 
 order of Providence authorize us to say, God 
 made the earth, this continent was vacant — 
 uninhabited. And — orrantino- that the sava2:o 
 
THE PIOXEER. 123 
 
 was in possession — for this is liis only ground 
 of title, as, indeed, it is the foundation of all 
 primary title — there were at the period of the 
 first landing of white men on the continent, be- 
 tween Lake Superior and the Gulf of Mexico, 
 east of the Mississippi, about one hundred and 
 eighty thousand Indians.* That region now 
 supports at least twenty millions of civilized 
 people, and is capable of containing quite ten 
 times that number, without crowding ! Now, 
 if God made the earth for any purpose, it cer- 
 tainly was not that it should be monopolized by 
 a horde of nomad savages ! 
 
 But an argument on this subject, would not 
 be worth ink and paper ; and I am, moreover, 
 aware, that this reasoning may be abused. 
 Any attempt to construe the purposes of Deity 
 must be liable to the same misapplication. 
 And, besides, it is not my design to go so 
 far back ; I seek not so much to excuse as to ac- 
 count for — less to justify than to analyze — the 
 characteristics of the class before me. I wish 
 to establish that the pioneer hatred of the In- 
 dian was not an unprovoked or groundless 
 hatred, that the severity of his warfare was not 
 
 *This is the estimate of Bnncroft — and, I think, at least, 
 tliirty thousand too liberal. If the number were doubled, 
 however, it would not weaken the position in the text 
 
124. WESTERN CHARACTERS. 
 
 a mere gratuitous and bloody-minded cruelty. 
 There are a thousand actions, of which we 
 are hearing every day, that are indefensible in 
 morals : and yet we are conscious while we 
 condemn the actors, that, in like circumstances, 
 we could not have acted differently. So is it 
 with the fierce and violent reprisals, sometimes 
 made by frontier rangers. Their best defence 
 lies in the statement that they were men, and 
 that their manhood prompted them to ven- 
 geance. When they deemed themselves in- 
 jured, they demanded reparation, in such sort 
 as that demand could then be made — at the 
 muzzle of a rifle or the point of a knife. They 
 were equal to the times in which they lived. — 
 Had they not been so, how many steamboats 
 would now be floating on the Mississippi ? 
 
 There was no romance in the composition of 
 the pioneer' — ^ whatever there may have been 
 in his environment. His life was altogether 
 too serious a matter for poetry, and the only 
 music he took pleasure in, was the sound of a 
 violin, sending forth notes remarkable only for 
 their liveliness. Even this, he could enjoy but 
 at rare periods, when his cares were forcibly 
 dismissed. He was, in truth, a very matter-of- 
 fact sort of person. It was principally with 
 
THE riONEEK. 125 
 
 facts that he had to deal — and most of them 
 were very "stubborn facts." Lideed, it^ay 
 be doubted — notwithstanding much good poet- 
 ry has been written (in cities chiefly), on soli- 
 tude and the wilderness — whether a life in the 
 woods is, after all, very suggestive of poetical 
 thoughts. The perils of the frontier must bor- 
 row most of their " enchantment" from the 
 " distance ;" and its sufferings and hardships 
 are certainly more likely to evoke pleasant 
 fancies to him who sits beside a good coal fire, 
 than to one whose lot it is to bear them. Even 
 the (so-called) " varied imagery" of the Indian's 
 eloquence — about which so much nonsense 
 has been written — is, in a far greater measure, 
 the result of the poverty and crude materialism 
 of his language, than of any poetical bias, tem- 
 perament, or tone of thought. An Indian, as 
 we have said before, has no humor — he never 
 understands a jest — his wife is a beast of bur- 
 then — heaven is a Imnting-groimd — his lan- 
 guage has no words to express abstract quali- 
 ties, virtues, or sentiments. And yet he lives 
 in the wilderness all the days of his life ! The 
 only trait lie has, in common with the poetical 
 character, is his laziness. 
 
 But the pioneer was not indolent, in any 
 sense. He had no dreaminess — meditation 
 
126 AVESTEKN CHAEACTEKS. 
 
 was no part of liis mental liabit — a poetical 
 fancy would, in him, have been an indication 
 of insanity. If he reclined at the foot of a tree, 
 on a still summer day, it was to sleep : if he 
 gazed out over the waving prairie, it was to 
 search for the column of smoke w^hich told of 
 his enemy's approach : if he turned his eyes 
 toward the blue heaven, it was to prognosticate 
 to-morrow's storm or sunshine : if he bent his 
 gaze upon the green earth, it w^as to look for 
 " Indian sign" or buffalo trail. His wife was only 
 a help-mate — he never thought of making a di- 
 vinity of her — she cooked his dinner, made 
 and washed his clothes, bore his children, and 
 took care of his household. His children were 
 never "little cherubs," — "angels sent from 
 heaven" — but generally " tow-headed" and 
 very earthly responsibilities. He looked for- 
 ward anxiously, to the day when the boys 
 should be able to assist him in the field, or fight 
 the Indian, and the girls to help their mother 
 make and mend. When one of the latter took 
 it into her head to be married — as they usually 
 did quite early in life ; for beaux were plenty 
 and belles were " scarce" — he only made one 
 condition, that the man of her choice should be 
 brave and healthy. He never made a "pa- 
 rade" about anything — marriage, least of all. 
 
THE rioxKKK. 127 
 
 He usually gave tlie Lriile — not the " bliisli- 
 ing" bride — a bed, a lean horse, and some 
 good advice: and, having thus discharged his 
 duty in the premises, returned to his work, and 
 the business was done. 
 
 The marriage ceremony, in those days, was a 
 very unceremonious affair. The parade and 
 drill which now attend it, would then have 
 been as ridiculous as a Chinese dance; and the 
 finery and ornament, at present understood to 
 be indispensable on such occasions, then bore 
 no sway in fashion. Bridrd wreaths and dresses 
 were not known ; and. white kid gloves and 
 satin slippers never heard of. Orange blossoms 
 — natural and artificial — were as pretty then 
 as now; but the people were more occupied 
 with substance, than with emblem. 
 
 The ancients decked their victims for the 
 sacrifice with gaudy colors, flags, and stream- 
 ers ; the moderns do the same, and the offer- 
 ings are sometimes made to quite as barbarous 
 deities. 
 
 But the bride of the pioneer was clothed in 
 linsey-wolse}^, with hose of woollen yarn ; and 
 moccasins of deer-skin — or as an extra piece 
 of finery, high-quartered shoes of calf-skin — pre- 
 
128 WESTERN CHAEACTEKS. 
 
 ceded satin slippers. The bridegroom came in 
 copperas-colored jeans — domestic manufacture 
 — as a holiday suit; or, perhaps, a hunting- 
 shirt of buckskin, all fringed around the skirt 
 and cape, and a " coon-skin" cap, with mocca- 
 sins. Instead of a dainty walking-stick, with 
 an opera-dancers leg, in ivory, for head, he al- 
 ways brought his rifle, with a solid maple stock; 
 and never, during the whole ceremony, did he 
 divest himself of powder-horn and bullet-pouch. 
 Protestant ministers of the gospel were few 
 in those days ; and the words of form w^ere 
 usually spoken by a Jesuit missionary. Or, if 
 the Pioneer had objections to Catholicism — as 
 many had — his place was supplied by some 
 justice of the peace, of doubtful powers and 
 mythical appointment. If neither of these 
 could be procured, the father of the bride, him- 
 self, sometimes assumed the functions, ^r^ liao 
 vice^ oic pro tempore^ of minister or justice. It 
 was always understood, however, that such 
 left-handed marriages were to be conlBrmed by 
 the first minister who wandered to the frontier : 
 and, even when the opportunity did not ofi*er 
 for many months, no scandal ever arose — the 
 marriage vow was never broken. The pioneers 
 were simple people — the refinements of high 
 cultivation had not yet penetrated the forests 
 
THE PIONEER. 129 
 
 or crossed the prairies — and good faith and 
 virtue were as common as courage and sagacity. 
 
 When the brief, but all-sufficient ceremony 
 was over, the bridegroom resumed his rifle, 
 helped the bride into the saddle — or more fre- 
 quently to the pillion behind him — and they 
 calmly rode away together. 
 
 On some pleasant spot — surrounded by a 
 shady grove, or point of timber— a new log-cabin 
 has been built : its rough logs notched across 
 each other at the corners, a roof of oaken clap- 
 boards, held firmly down by long poles along 
 each course, its floor of heavy "puncheons,* its 
 broad, cheerful fireplace, large as a modern 
 bed-room — all are in the highest style of fron- 
 tier architecture. Within — excepting some 
 anomalies, such as putting the skillet and tea- 
 kettle in the little cupboard, along with the 
 blue-edged plates and yellow-figured tea-cups 
 — for the whole has been arranged by the 
 hands of the bridegroom himself — everything 
 is neatly and properly disposed. The oaken 
 bedstead, with low square posts, stands in one 
 corner, and the bed is covered by a pure white 
 counterpane, with fringe — an heirloom in the 
 family of the bride. At the foot of this is seen 
 
130 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 
 
 a large, heavy chest — like a camp-chest — to 
 serve for bureau, safe, and dressing-case. 
 
 In the middle of the floor — directly above a 
 trap-door which leads to a "potato-hole" be- 
 neath — stands a ponderous walnut table, and 
 on it sits a nest of wooden trays ; while, flank- 
 ing these, on one side, is a nicely-folded table- 
 cloth, and, on the other, a wooden-handled 
 butcher-knife and a well-worn Bible. Around 
 the room are ranged a few " split-bottomed" 
 chairs, exclusively for use, not ornament. In 
 the chimney-corners, or under the table, are 
 several three-legged stools, made for the chil- 
 dren, who — as the bridegroom laughingly in- 
 sinflates while he points to the uncouth speci- 
 mens of his handiwork — "will be coming in 
 due time." The wife laughs in her turn — re- 
 plies, "no doubt". — and, taking one of the grace- 
 ful tripods in her hand, carries it forth to sit upon 
 while she milks the cow — for she understands 
 what she is expected to do, and d<M,'S it without 
 delay. In one corner — near tl ■: fireplace — 
 the aforesaid cupboard is erected — being a 
 few oaken shelves neatly pinned to the logs 
 with hickory forks — and in this are arranged 
 the plates and cups; — not as the honest pride 
 of the housewife would arrange them, to dis- 
 play them to the best advantaere — but piled 
 
THE nONEEK. 131 
 
 away, one within another, without reference to 
 show. As yet there is no sign of female taste 
 or presence. 
 
 But now the house receives its mistress. The 
 " liappy couple" ride up to the low rail-fence 
 in front — the bride springs off without assist- 
 ance, affectation, or delay. The husband leads 
 away the horse or horses, and the wife enters 
 ^he dominion, where, thenceforward, she is 
 queen. There is no coyness, no blushing, no 
 pretence of fright or nervousness — if you wnll, 
 no romance — for which the husband has rea- 
 son to be thankful! The wife knows what her 
 duties are and resolutely goes about performing 
 them. She never dreamed, nor twaddled, about 
 " love in a cottage," or " the sweet communion 
 of congenial souls" (who never eat anything) : 
 and she is, therefore, not disappointed on dis- 
 covering that life is actually a serious thing. 
 She never whines about " making her husband 
 happy" — but sets firmly and. sensibly about 
 making him comfortable. She cooks his din- 
 ner, nurses his children, shares his hardships, 
 and encourages his industry. She never com- 
 plains of having too much work to do, slie does 
 not desert her home to make endless visits — 
 she borrows no misfortimes, has no imaginary 
 
132 AVESTEEN CHAKACTEKS. 
 
 ailings. Milliners and mantua-makers she ig- 
 nQi'es — "shopping" she never heard of — scan- 
 dal she never invents or listens to. She never 
 wishes for fine carriages, professes no inability 
 to walk five hundred yards, and does not think 
 it a " vulgar accomplishment," to know how to 
 make butter. She has no groundless anxieties, 
 she is not nervous about her children taking 
 cold : a doctor is a visionary potentate to her 
 — a drug-shop is a depot of abominations. She 
 never forgets whose. wife she is, — there is no 
 " sweet confidante" without whom she " can not 
 live" — she never writes endless letters about 
 nothing. She is, in short, a faithful, honest 
 wife: and, "in due time," the husband must 
 make raore " three-legged stools" — for the " tow- 
 heads" have now covered them all ! 
 
 Such is the wife and mother of the pioneer, 
 and, with such influences about him, how could 
 he be otherwise than honest, straightforward, 
 and manly ? 
 
 But, though a life in the woods was an enemy 
 to every sort of sentimentalism — though a more 
 unromantic being than the pioneer can hardly 
 be imagined — yet his character unquestionably 
 took its hue, from the primitive scenes and 
 
THE PIONEEK. 133 
 
 events of liis solitary existence. He was, in 
 many things, as simple as a child : as credulous, 
 as unsophisticated. Yet the utmost cunning of 
 the wily savage — all the strategy of Indian 
 warfare — was not sufficient to deceive or over- 
 reach him ! Though one might have expected 
 that his life of ceaseless watchfulness would 
 make him skeptical and suspicious, his confi- 
 dence was given heartily, without reservation, 
 and often most imprudently. If he gave his 
 trust at all, you might ply him, by the hour, 
 with the most improbable and outrageous fic- 
 tions, without fear of contradiction or of un- 
 belief. He never questioned the superior 
 knowledge or pretensions of any one who 
 claimed acquaintance with subjects of which 
 he was ignorant. 
 
 The character of his intellect, like that of the 
 Indian, was thoroughly synthetical : he had 
 nothing of the faculty which enables us to de- 
 tect falsehood, even in matters of which we 
 know nothing by comparison and analogy. He 
 never analyzed any story told him, he took it 
 as a unit; and, imless it violated some known 
 principle of his experience, or conflicted with 
 some fact of his own observation, never doubted 
 its truth. At this moment, there are men in 
 every western settlement who have only vague, 
 
134 -SVESTEKN LiiAKACTEES. 
 
 ' -nde notions of what a city is — wlio would 
 feel nervous if they stepped upon the deck of a 
 steamboat — and are utterly at a loss to conjec- 
 ture the nature of a railroad. Upon either of 
 ■ lese mystical subjects they will swallow, with- 
 out straining, tlie most absurd and impossible 
 fictions. And this is not because of their igno- 
 rance alone, for many of them are, for their 
 sphere in life, educated, intelligent, and, what is 
 better, sensible men. 'Nov is it by any means 
 a national trait : for a genuine Yankee will 
 scarcely believe the truth ; and, tliough he may 
 sometimes trust in very wild things, his frith is 
 usually an active " craze," and not mere passive 
 credulity. The pioneer, then, has not derived it 
 from his eastern fathers : it is the growth of the 
 woods and pi-airies — an embellishment to a 
 charn • r^ ^j^'hich might otherwise appear naked 
 and -i-vero. 
 
 Another characteristic, traceable to the same 
 source, the stern reality of his life, is the pioneer's 
 gravity. 
 
 The agricultural population of this country 
 are, at the best, not a cheerful race. Tliougl; 
 they sometimes join in festivities, it is br.r, 
 seldom ; and the wildness of their dissipation is 
 too often in proportion to its infrequeticy. There 
 
THE ri02sF.Eli. 135 
 
 is none of the serene contentment — none of 
 that smiling enjoyment — which, according lo 
 travellers like Howitt, distinguishes tho lille" 
 of tlie ground in other lands. Sedateness is p 
 national characteristic, but the gravity oi ii.. 
 pioneer is quite another thing ; it includes 
 pride and personal dignity, and indicates a 
 stern, unyielding temper. There is, however, 
 nothing morose in it : it is its af^pect alone, 
 which forbids approach ; and that only makes 
 more conspicuous the heartiness of your recep- 
 tion, when once the shell is broken. Acquainted 
 with the character, you do not expect him to 
 smile much ; but now and then he laughs : and 
 that laugh is round, free, and hearty. You 
 know at once that he enjoys it, you are con- 
 vinced that he is a firm friend and " a good 
 hater." 
 
 It is not surprising, with a character such as 
 I have described, that the pioneer is not grega- 
 rious, that he is, indeed, rather solitary. Ac- 
 cordingly, we never find a genuine specimen of 
 the class, among the cmigrantF, who come in 
 shoals and fiocks, and pitch their < «^nts in " colo- 
 nies ;" who lay out, ^'^wns and cilies, projected 
 upon paper, anc cn'i them N- Boston, New 
 Albany, or A't'ot^ T "-tf'ord, b- ' 'o one log is 
 
136 WESTEEN CHARACTEES. 
 
 placed upon another ; nor are there many of the 
 unadulterated stock among that other class, who 
 come from regions further south, and christen 
 their towns, classically, Carthage, Rome, or 
 Athens : or, patriotically, in commemoration of 
 some Yirginian worthy, some Maryland sharp- 
 shooter, or " Jersey blue." 
 
 The real pioneer never emigrates gregarious- 
 ly ; he does not wish to be within " halloo" of 
 his nearest neighbor ; he is no city-builder; and, 
 if he does project a town, he christens it by 
 some such name as Boonville or Clarksville, in 
 memory of a noted pioneer : or Jacksonville or 
 Waynesville, to commemorate some " old hero" 
 who was celebrated for good fighting.* And 
 the reason why the outlandish and outre so much 
 predominate in the names of western towns 
 and cities, must be sought in the fact referred 
 
 * On the subject of naming towns, mnch might have been 
 said in the preceding article in favor of French taste, and espe- 
 cially that just and unpretending taste, which led them almost 
 alway to retain the Indian names. While the American has 
 pretentiously imported from the Old World such names as 
 Venice, Carthage, Rome, Athens, and even London and Paris, 
 or has transferred from the eastern states, Boston, Philadelphia, 
 Baltimore, and New York, the Frenchman, with a better judg- 
 ment, has retained such Indian names as Chicago, Peoria, Kas- 
 kaskia, Cahokia, Illinois, Wisconsin, Missouri, Wabash, and Mis- 
 sieaippi. 
 
THE PIONEER. 137 
 
 to above, that the western man is not essentially 
 a town-projector, and that, consequently, com- 
 paratively few of the towns were " laid out" by 
 the legitimate pioneer. We shall have more to 
 say of town-building under another head ; and, 
 in the meantime, having said that the pioneer 
 is not gregarious, let us look at the manner of 
 his emigration. 
 
 Many a time, in the western highwaj^s, have 
 I met with the sturdy " mover," as he is called, 
 in the places where people are stationary — ■ 
 a family, sometimes by no means small, wan- 
 dering toward the setting sun, in search of 
 pleasant places on the lands of " Uncle Sam." 
 Many a time, in the forest or on the prairie — 
 generally upon some point of timber Avhich puts 
 a mile or two within the plain — have I passed 
 the " clearing," or " pre-emption," where, with 
 nervous arm and sturdy heart, the " squatter"* 
 cleaves out, and renders habitable, a home for 
 himself and a heritage for his children. 
 
 Upon the road, you first meet the pioneer him- 
 
 * This word is a pregnant memento of the manner in which 
 the vain words of flippant orators fall, innocuous, to the ground, 
 when they attempt to stigmatize, with contemptuous terms, 
 the truly noble. "Squatter" is now, in the west, only another 
 name for "Pioneer," and that word describes all that is ad- 
 mirable in courage, truth, and manhood 1 
 
lo8 WESTEKN CHAKACTKRS. 
 
 polf, for he almost always walks a few hundred 
 yards ahead. He is nsnally above the inedinin 
 ]i eight, and rather spare. He stoops a little, 
 too ; for he has done a deal of hard wurk, and 
 expects to do more ; but you see at once, that 
 unless his lungs are weak, his strength is by no 
 means broken, and you are quite sure that many 
 a stately tree is destined to be humbled by his 
 sinewy arm. He is attired in frontier fashion : 
 he wears a loose coat, called a hunting-shirt, of 
 jeans or linsey, and its color is that indescriba- 
 ble hue compounded of copperas and madder ; 
 pantaloons, exceedingly loose, and not very ac- 
 curately cut in any part, of like color and 
 material, defend his lower limbs. His feet are 
 cased in low, fox-colored shoes, for of boots, he 
 is, yet, quite innocent. Around his throat and 
 wrists, even in midsummer, you see the collar 
 and wristbands of a heavy, deep-red, flannel- 
 si lirt. Examine him very closely, and you will 
 probably find no other garment on his person. 
 
 His hair is dark, and not very evenly trim- 
 med — for his wife or daughter has performed 
 the tonsure with a pair of rusty shears ; and the 
 longer locks seem changed in hue, as if his 
 dingy wool hat did not sufficiently protect them 
 against the wind and rain. Over his shoulder 
 he carries a heavy rifle, heavier than a " Har- 
 
THE PIONEER. 139 
 
 per's ferry musket," running about " fifty to the 
 pourd.'' Around liis neck are swung the 
 powder-liorn nnd bullet-pouch, the former pro- 
 tCv-ted by a square of deer-skin, and the latter 
 ornanienttd witli a squirrel's tail. 
 
 You take note of all these things, and then 
 recur to liis melaacholy -looking face, with its 
 mild blue eyes and sharpened features. You 
 think he looks thin, and conjecture that his chest 
 may be weak, or his lungs affected, by the stoop 
 in his shoulders ; but when he lifts his eyes, and 
 asks the way to Thompson's ferry, or how far it 
 is to water, you are satisfied : for the glance of 
 his eye is calm and firm, and the tone of his 
 A^oice is round and healthy. You answer his 
 question, he nods quietly by way of thanks, and 
 marches on ; and, though you draw your rein, 
 and seem inclined to further converse, he takes 
 no notice, and pursues his way. 
 
 A few minutes afterward, you meet the family. 
 A small, light wagon, easily dragged tli rough 
 sloughs and heavy roads, is covered with a white 
 cotton cloth, and drawn, by either two yokes of 
 oxen, or a pair of lean horses. A " patch-work" 
 quilt is sometimes stretched across the flimsy 
 covering, as a guard against the sun and rain. 
 Within this vehicle are stowed all the emigrant's 
 household goods, and still, it is not overloaded. 
 
140 WESTERN CHAEACTERS. 
 
 There is usually a, large chest, containing the 
 wardrobe of the family, witli such small articles 
 as are liable to loss, and the little store of money. 
 This is always in silver, for the pioneer is no 
 judge of gold, and, on the frontier, paper has 
 but little exchangeable value. There are then 
 two light bedsteads — one "a trundle-bed" — a 
 few plain chairs, most of them tied on behind 
 and at the sides ; three or four stools, domestic 
 manufacture ; a set of tent-poles and a few pots 
 and pans. On these are piled the "beds and 
 bedding," tied in large bundles, and stowed in 
 such manner as to make convenient room for the 
 children who are too young to walk. In the 
 front end of the wagon, sits the mother of the 
 family : and, peering over her head and shoul- 
 ders, leaning out at lier side, or gazing under 
 the edge of the cotton-covering, are numerous 
 flaxen heads, which you find it difficult to count 
 while you ride past. 
 
 There are altogether too many of them, you 
 think, for a man no older than the one you met, 
 a while ago ; and yon, j^erhaps, conjecture that 
 the youthful-looking woman has adopted some 
 of her dead sister's children, or, perchance, some 
 of her brothers and sisters themselves. But 
 you are mistaken, they are all her offspring, and 
 
THE PIONEER. 141 
 
 the father of every one of them is the stoop- 
 shouldered man you saw ahead. If you look 
 closely, you will observe that the mother, who 
 is driving, holds the reins with one* hand, while, 
 on the other arm, she supports an infant not 
 more than six months old. It was for the advent 
 of this little stranger, that they delayed their 
 emigration : and they set out while it was very 
 young, for fear of the approach of its successor. 
 If they waited for their youngest child to attain 
 a year of age, they would never " move," 
 until they would be too old to make another 
 "clearinoj." 
 
 You pass on — perhaps ejaculating thanks 
 that your lot has been differently cast, and 
 thinking you have seen the last of them. 
 But a few hundred yards further, and yon hear 
 the tinkling of a bell ; two or three lean cows 
 — with calves about the age of the baby — 
 [iome straggling by. You look for the driver, 
 and see a tall girl with a very young face — 
 the eldest of the family, though not exceeding 
 twelve or thirteen years in age. You feel quite 
 3ure, that, besides her sun-bonnet and well- 
 worn shoes, she wears but one article of ap- 
 parel — and that a loose dress of linsey, rather 
 narrow in the skirt, of a dirty brown color, with 
 a tinge of red. It hangs straight down about 
 
14:2 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 
 
 lu'i- limbs, as if it were wot, and with every 
 step — for she walks stoutly — it Haps and flies 
 about her ankles, as if shotted in the lower liein. 
 She presents, altog-ether, rather a slatternly 
 liiTinv, and her face is freckled and sunburnt. 
 
 J hit you must not judge her too rashly ; for 
 her eye is keen and expressive, and her mouth 
 is (piite pretty — especially when she smiles. 
 A few years hence — if you have the entree — 
 you nniy meet her in the best and highest cir- 
 cles of the country. Perhaps, wdiile you are 
 daiuiiig atlendance U]>on some new administra- 
 tion, asking for a " place," and asking, prob- 
 al>ly, in vain, she may come to AVashington, a 
 beautiful and accomplished woman ■ — the wife 
 of some mond)er of Congress, whose constitu- 
 ency is numbered by the hundred thousand ! 
 
 You may pass on, now, and forget her; but, 
 if you stop to talk live minutes, she will not 
 forget ijoii — at least, if you say anything stri- 
 . king or sensible. iVnd when you meet her again, 
 perhaps in a gilded saloon, among the brightest 
 and highest in the land — if you seek an intro- 
 duction, as you probably will — she will remind 
 you of the meeting, and to your astonishment, 
 will lau:;hingly describe the scene, to some of 
 her obsequious friends who stand around. And 
 then she will peihaps introduce you, as an old 
 
TJl]': l^lONKKIl. 143 
 
 friciH], to one of* tliose flax-lialred boyH, wlio 
 peeped out of the wagon over Iiis inotlier's 
 shoulder, as you passed them in tlie wihJerneBs: 
 and you recognise one of* the rneinhers from 
 California, or from Oregon, whose influence in 
 tlie house, though he is as yet a very young man, 
 is already quite conslderalde. If you are suc- 
 cessful in your application for a "place," it 
 may be tliat the casual meeting in the forest or 
 on the prairie was the seed which, germinating 
 through long years of obscurity, finally sprung 
 up tkuH^ and bore a ci«op of high official honors! 
 
 Tlie next time you meet a family of emigrants 
 on the frontier, you will probably observe them 
 a little more closely. 
 
 Not a few of those who bear a prominent 
 part in the government of our country — more 
 than one of the first men of the nation — men 
 whose names are now heard in connection with 
 the highest office of the people — twenty years 
 ago, occupied a place as humble in the scale of 
 influence, as that flaxen-haired son of the stoop- 
 shouldered emigrant. Such are the elements 
 of our civilization — such the spirit of our in- 
 stitutions ! 
 
144: WESTERN CHAKACTERS. 
 
 We have hitherto been speaking only of the 
 American pioneer, and we have devoted more 
 space to him, than we shall give to his contem- 
 poraries, because he has exerted more influence, 
 both in the settlement of the country, and in 
 the formation of sectional character and social 
 peculiarities, than all the rest combined. 
 
 The French emigrant was quite a different 
 being. Even at this day/ there are no two 
 classes — not the eastern and western, or the 
 northern and southern — between whom the 
 distinction is more marked, than it has always 
 been between the Saxon and the Frank. The 
 advent of the latter was much earlier than that 
 of the former; and to him, therefore, must be 
 ascribed the credit of the first settlement of the 
 country. But, for all purposes of lasting im- 
 pression, he must yield to his successor. It 
 was, in fact, the American who penetrated and 
 cleared the forest — who subdued and drove out 
 the Indian — who, in a word, reclaimed the 
 country. 
 
 In nothing was the distinction between the 
 two races broader, than in the feelings with 
 which they approached the savage. "We have 
 seen that the hatred, borne by the American 
 toward his red enemy, was to be traced to a 
 
THE PIONEER. 145 
 
 Ions: series of mutual hostilities and wrono-s. 
 But the Frenchman had no such injuries to 
 avenge, no hereditary feud to prosecute. The 
 first of his nation who had entered the country 
 were non-combatants — they came to convert 
 the savage, not to conquer him, or deprive him 
 of his lands. Even as early as sixteen hundred 
 and eight, the Jesuits had established friendly 
 relations with the Indians of Canada — and be- 
 fore the stern crew of the May Flower had land- 
 ed on Plymouth Rock, they had preached the 
 gospel on the shores of Lake Huron. Their 
 piety and wisdom had acquired an influence 
 over the untutored Indian, long before the com- 
 mencement of the hostilities, wdiich afterward 
 cost so much blood and suffering. They had, 
 thus, smoothed the way for their countrymen, 
 and opened a safe path through the wilderness, 
 to the shore of the great western waters. And 
 the people who followed and accompanied them, 
 were peculiarly adapted to improve the advan- 
 tages thus given them. 
 
 They were a gentle, peaceful, unambitious 
 people. They came as the friend, not the he- 
 reditary enemy, of the savage. They tendered 
 the calumet — a symbol well understood by 
 every Indian — and were received as allies and 
 brethren. They had no national prejudices to 
 7 
 
146 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 
 
 overcome : the copper color of the Indian was 
 not an insuperable objection to intermarriage, 
 and children of the mixed blood were not, for 
 that reason, objects of scorn. An Indian 
 maiden was as mnch a woman to a Frenchman, 
 as if she had been a Uoiide / and, if her form 
 was graceful and her features comely, he would 
 woo her with as much ardor as if she had been 
 one of his own race. 
 
 Nor was this jieculiarity attributable only to 
 the native gallantry of the French character, 
 as it has sometimes been asserted : the total 
 want of prejudice, which grows up in contem- 
 plating an inferior race, held in limited subjec- 
 tion, and a certain easiness of temper and tone 
 of thought, had far more influence. 
 
 The Frenchman has quite enough vanity, 
 but very little pride. Whatever, therefore, is 
 sanctioned by those who surrounded him, is, in 
 his eyes, no degradation. He married the In- 
 dian woman — first, because there were but few 
 females among the emigrants, and he could not 
 live without "the sex;" and, second, because 
 there was nothing in his prejudices, or in pub- 
 lic sentiment, to deter him. The descendants 
 of these marriages — except where, as in some 
 cases, they are upheld by the possession of 
 great wealth — have no consideration, and are 
 
THE PIONEER. 147 
 
 seldom seen in the society of tlie whites. But 
 this is only because French manners and feel- 
 ings have long since faded out of our social or- 
 ganization. The Saxon, with his unconquer- 
 able prejudices of race, with his pride and jeal- 
 ousy, lias taken possession of the country ; and, 
 as he rules its political destinies, in most places, 
 likewise, gives tones to its manners. Had 
 Frenchmen continued to possess the land — had 
 French dominion not given place to English — 
 mixture of blood would have had but little in- 
 fluence on one's position ; and there would now 
 have been, in St. Louis or Chicago, as many 
 shades of color in a social assembly, as may be 
 seen at a ball in Mexico. 
 
 The French are a more cheerful people, than 
 the Americans. Social intercourse — the in- 
 terchange of hospitalities — the enjoyment of 
 amusements in crowds — are far more import- 
 ant to them than to any other race. Solitude 
 and misery are — or ought to be — synonj'ms 
 in French; and enjoyment is like glory — it 
 must have \vitnesses, or it will lose its attrac- 
 tion. Accordingly, we find the French emi- 
 grant seeking companionship, even in the tiials 
 and enterprises of the wilderness. The Ameri- 
 can, after the manner of his race, sought places 
 
148 WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 
 
 where he could possess, for himself, enough for 
 his wants, and be " monarch of all he surveyed." 
 But the Frenchman had no such pride. He 
 resorted to a town, where the amusements of 
 dancing, fetes^ and social converse, were to be 
 found — where the narrow streets were scarcely 
 more than a division fence, " across which the 
 women could carry on their voluble conversa- 
 tions, without leaving their homes."* This 
 must have been a great advantage, and prob- 
 ably contributed, in no slight degree, to the 
 singular peace of their villages — since the 
 proximity afforded no temptation to going 
 abroad, and the distance was yet too great to 
 allow such whisperings and scandal, as usually 
 break up the harmony of small circles. Whether 
 the fact is to be attributed to this, or to some 
 other cause, certain it is that these little com- 
 munities were eminently peaceful. From the 
 first settlement of Kaskaskia, for example, down 
 to the transfer of the western country to the 
 British — almost a century — I find no record, 
 even in the voluminous epistolary chronicles, 
 of any personal rencontre, or serious quarrel, 
 among the inhabitants. The same praise can 
 not be given to any American town ever yet 
 built. 
 
 * Perkins's Western Annals. 
 
TIIE PIONEER. 149 
 
 A species of comminiism seems to be a por- 
 tion of the French character; for we discover, 
 that, even at that early day, ^;><:7y.s'(2?i5, or hcibi- 
 tans^ collected together in villages, had their 
 common fields^ where the separate portion of 
 each family was still a, part of the common 
 stock — and their tract of pasture-land, where 
 there w^as no division, or separate property. 
 One enclosure covered all the fields of the com- 
 munity, and all submitted to regulations made 
 b}" the free voice of the people. 
 
 If one was sick, or employed in the service 
 of the colony, or absent on business of his own 
 at planting or harvest time, his portion was not 
 therefore neglected : his ground was planted, 
 or his crop was gathered, by the associated 
 labor of his neighbors, as thoroughly and care- 
 fully as if he had been at home. His family 
 liad nothing to fear; because in the social code 
 of the simple villagers, each was as much bound 
 to maintain the children of his friend as his 
 own. This state of things might have its in- 
 conveniences and vices ^ — of which, perhaps, 
 the worst was its tendency to merge the family 
 into the community, and thus — by obliterating 
 the lines of individuality and personal inde- 
 pendence — benumbing enterprise and check- 
 ing improvements : but it was certainly produc- 
 
150 TVIESTEKN CnARACTEES. 
 
 tive of some good results, also. It tended to 
 make j^eople careful each of the other's rights, 
 kind to the afflicted, and brotherly in their 
 social intercourse. The attractive simplicity 
 of manners observable, even at this day, in 
 some of the old French villages, is traceable to 
 this peculiar form of their early organization. 
 
 It would be well if that primitive simplicity 
 of life and manners, could be combined w^itli 
 rapid, or even moderate improvement. But, 
 in the present state of the world, this can 
 scarcely be ; and, accordingly, we find the 
 Frenchman of the passing year, diifering but 
 little from his ancestor of sixteen hundi ed and 
 fifty — still living in the old patriarchal style, 
 still cultivating his share of the common field, 
 and still using the antiquated processes of the 
 seventeenth century. 
 
 But, though not so active as their neighbors, 
 the Americans, they were ever mucli happier. 
 They had no ambition beyond enough for the 
 passing hour: with that they were perfectly con- 
 tented. They were very patient of the depriva- 
 tion, when they had it not ; and seasons of 
 scarcity saw no cessation of music and dancing, 
 no abridgment of the jest a'nd song. If the 
 earth yielded enough in one year to sustain them 
 
TTTE riONEETJ. 151 
 
 till the next, the amount of labor expended for 
 that object was never increased — superfluity 
 they cared notliing for: and commerce, save 
 sucli limited trade as was necessary to provide 
 their few luxuries, was be^^ond both their capa- 
 city and desires. The prolific soil was suffered 
 to retain its juices; it was reserved for another 
 l^eople to discover and improve its infinite pro- 
 ductiveness. 
 
 They were indolent, careless, and improvident. 
 Great enterprises were above or below them. 
 Political interests, and the questions concerning 
 national dominion, were too exciting to charm 
 their gentle natures. Their intelligence was, of 
 course, not of the highest order : but they had 
 no use for learning — literature was out of place 
 in the wilderness — the pursuit of letters could 
 liave found no sympathy, and for solitary enjoy- 
 ment, the Frenchman cultivates nothing. Life 
 was almost altogether sensuous: and, though 
 their morals w^ere in keeping with their sim- 
 plicity, existence to them was chiefly a physical 
 matter. The fertility of the soil, producing all 
 the necessaries of life with a small amount of 
 labor, and the amenity of the climate, rendering 
 defences against winter but too easy, encouraged 
 their indolence, and soothed their scanty energy. 
 
152 WESTERN CHAKACTERS. 
 
 "They made no attempt," said one* who 
 knew them well, " to acquire land from the 
 Indians, to organize a social system, to intro- 
 duce municipal regulations, or to establish mili- 
 tary defences ; but cheerfully obeyed the priests 
 and the king's officers, and enjoyed the present 
 w^ithout troubling their heads about the future. 
 They seem to have been even careless as to the 
 acquisition of property, and its transmission to 
 their heirs. Finding themselves in a fruitful 
 country, abounding in game — where the neces- 
 saries of life could be procured with little labor 
 — where no restraints were imposed by govern- 
 ment, and neither tribute nor j^ersonal service 
 was exacted, they were content to live in un- 
 ambitious peace and comfortable poverty. They 
 took possession of so much of the vacant land 
 around them, as they were disposed to till, and 
 no more. Their agriculture was rude : and even 
 to this day, some of the implements of hus- 
 bandry and modes of cultivation, brought from 
 France a century ago, remain unchanged by the 
 march of mind or the hand of innovation. 
 Their houses were comfortable, and they reared 
 fruits and flowers, evincing, in this respect, an 
 attention to comfort and luxury, which has not 
 
 * "Sketches of the West," by Judge Hall, for many years a 
 resident of Illinois. 
 
THE PIONEER. 153 
 
 been practised by tlie English and American 
 first settlers. But in the accnmnlation of prop- 
 erty, and in all tlie essentials of industry, they 
 were indolent and improvident, rearing only the 
 bare necessaries of life, and living from genera- 
 tion to generation without change or in^p: ove- 
 ment." 
 
 "Tliey reared fruits and flowers," he says; 
 and this simple fact denotes a marked distinction 
 between them and the Americans, not only in 
 regard to the things themselves, as would seem 
 to be the view of the author quoted, but in 
 mental constitution, modes of thought, and 
 motives to action. Their tastes were elegant, 
 ornate, and refined. They found pleasure in 
 pursuits which the American deems trivial, 
 frivolous, and unworthy of exertion. 
 
 If any trees sheltered the house of the Ameri- 
 can, they were those planted by the winds ; if 
 there were any flowers at his door, they were 
 only those with which prodigal nature has car- 
 peted the prairies ; and you may see now in the 
 west, many a cabin which has stood for thirty 
 years, w^ith not a tree, of shade or fruit, within 
 a mile of its door ! Everything is as bare and 
 as cheerless about the door-j^ard, as it was the 
 first winter of its enclosure. But, stretching 
 away from it, in every direction, sometimes for 
 
154 V.'ESTERN CHARACTERS. 
 
 miles, you will see extensive and prodnctivO 
 fields of grain, in the highest state of cultivation. 
 It is not personal comfort, or an elegant resi- 
 dence, for which the American cares, but the 
 enduring and solid results of unwearied labor. 
 
 A Frenchman's residence is surrounded by 
 flower-beds and orchards ; his windows are 
 covered by creeping-vines and trellis-work ; 
 flower-pots and bird-cages occupy the sills and 
 surround the corridors ; everything presents the 
 aspect of elegant taste, comfort, and indolence. 
 The extent of his fields, the amount of his prod- 
 uce, the intelligence and industry of his culti- 
 vation, bear an immense disproportion to those 
 of his le^s ornamental, though more energetic, 
 neighbor. 
 
 The distinction between the two races is as 
 clear in their personal appearance and bearing, 
 as in the aspect of their plantations. The 
 Frenchman is generally a spruce, dapper little 
 gentleman, brisk, obsequious, and insinuating 
 in manner, and usually betraying minute atten- 
 tion to externals. The American is always plain 
 in drci^s — evincing no more taste in costume 
 than in horticulture — steady, calm, and never 
 lively in manner: blunt, straightforward, and 
 independent in discourse. The one is amiable 
 
THE PIONEER. 155 
 
 and submissive, the otlier choleric and rebel- 
 lious. The Frenchman alwa3^s recognises and 
 bows before superior rank : the American ac- 
 knowledges no superior, and bows to no man 
 save in courtes3\ The former is docile and 
 easily governed : the latter is intractable, be- 
 yond control. The Frencbman accommodates 
 himself to circumstances : the American forces 
 circumstances to yield to him. 
 
 The consequence has been, that while the 
 American has stamped his character upon the 
 whole country, there are not ten places in the 
 valley of the Mississippi, where you would in- 
 fer, from anything you see, that a Frenchman 
 had ever placed his foot upon the soil. The few 
 localities in which the French character yet 
 lingers, are fast losing the distinction ; and a 
 score or two of years will witness a total dis- 
 appearance of the gentle people and their primi- 
 tive abodes. Even now — excepting in a few 
 parishes in Louisiana — tlie relics of the race 
 bear a faded, antiquated look : as if they be- 
 longed to a past century, as, indeed, they do, 
 and only lingered now, to witness, for a brief 
 space, the glaring innovations of the nineteenth, 
 and then, lamenting tlie follies of modern civi- 
 lization, to take their departure for ever I 
 
 Let tliem depart in peace! For they were a 
 
156 WESTERN CHAliACTERS. 
 
 gentle and pacific race, and in their day did 
 many kindly things ! 
 
 "The goodness of the heart is shown in deeds 
 Of peacefulness and kindness." 
 
 Their best monnment is an affectionate recol- 
 lection of their simplicity : their highest wish 
 
 "To sleep in humble life, 
 
 Beneath the storm ambition blows." 
 
r II K K A .\ i; K K 
 
IV. 
 
 THE KANGEE. 
 
 "When purposed vengeance I forego, 
 
 Tenn me a wretch, nor deem me foe ; 
 
 And when an insult I forgive, 
 
 Then brand me as a slave, and live." 
 
 Scott. 
 
 In elaborating the character of the pioneer, 
 we have unavoidably anticipated, in some meas- 
 ure, that of the Ranger — for the latter was, in 
 fact, only one of the capacities in which the 
 former sometimes acted. But — since, in the 
 preceding article, we have have endeavored to 
 confine the inquiry, so as to use the term Pio- 
 neer as almost synonymous with Immigrant — 
 we have, of course, ignored, to some extent, 
 the subordinate characters, in which he fre- 
 quently figured. "We therefore propose, now, 
 briefly to review one or two of them in their 
 natural succession. 
 
 The progress of our country may be traced 
 and measured, by the representative characters 
 
158 -SVESTEKN CllAlJACTEES. 
 
 wliicli marked eacli period. The missionary- 
 priest came first, wlien the land was an un- 
 broken wiklerness. The military adventurer, 
 seeking to establish new empires, and acquire 
 great fortunes, entered by the path thus opened. 
 Next came the hunter, roaming tlie woods in 
 search of wild beasts upon which he preyed. 
 Making himself familiar with the "pathless for- 
 est and tlie rolling prairie, he qualified himself 
 to guide, even while he fled from, the stream 
 of immigration. At last came the pioneer, to 
 drive away the savage, to clear out the forests, 
 and reclaim the land. 
 
 At first, he was onltj a pioneer. lie had few 
 neiglibors, he belonged to no community — his 
 household was his country, his family were his 
 only associates or companions. In the course 
 of time others followed him — he could* occa- 
 sionally meet a white man on the prairies ; if he 
 wandered a few miles from home, he could see 
 the smoke of another chimney in the distance. 
 If he did not at once abandon his "clearing" 
 and go further west, lie became, in some sort, a 
 member of society — was the fellow-citizen of 
 his neighbors. The Indians became alarmed 
 for their-hunting grounds, or the nations went 
 to war and drew them into the contest: the 
 frontier became unsafe: \\\q presence of danger 
 
THE K ANGER. 159 
 
 drew the pioneers together : tliey adopted a sys- 
 tem of defence, and the ranger was the offspring 
 and representative of a new order of things. 
 
 Kougli and almost savage as he sometimes 
 was, he was still the index to a great improve- 
 ment. Rude as the system was, it gave shape 
 and order to what had before been mere chaos. 
 
 The ranger marks a new era, then ; his ex- 
 istence is another chapter in the history of the 
 west. Previous to his time, each pioneer de- 
 pended only on himself for defence — his sole 
 protection, against the wild beast and the savage, 
 was his rifle — self-dependence was his peculiar 
 characteristic. The idea of a fighting establish- 
 ment — the germ of standing armies — had never 
 occurred to him : even the rudest form of civil 
 government was strange to him — taxes, salaries, 
 assessments, w^ere all "unknown quantities." 
 
 But, gradually, all this changed ; and with 
 his circumstances, his character was also modi- 
 fied. He lost a little of his sturdy independ- 
 ence, his jealousy of neighborhood was softened 
 — his solitary habits became more social — he 
 acknowledged the necessity for concert of ac- 
 tion — he merged a part of his individuality 
 into the community, and — became a ranger. 
 
 In this capacity, his character was but little 
 
1^0 WESTERN CHAKACTERS. 
 
 different to what it had been before the change ; 
 and, though that change was a great improve- 
 ment, considered with reference to society, it 
 may safely be doubted whether it made the in- 
 dividual more respectable. He was a better 
 citizen^ because he now contributed to the com- 
 mon defence : but he was not a better rnan^ 
 because new associations brought novel temp- 
 tations, and mingling with other men Avore 
 away the simplicity, which was the foundation 
 of his manliness. ' Before assuming his new 
 character, moreover, he never wielded a weap- 
 on except in his own defence — or, at most, in 
 avenging his own wrongs. The idea of justice 
 
 — claiming reparation for an injury, which he 
 alone could estimate, because by him alone it 
 was sustained — protected his moral sense. But, 
 when he assumed tlie vindication of his neigh- 
 bor's rights, and the reparation of his wrongs 
 
 — however kind it may have been to do so — 
 he was sustained only by the spirit of hatred to 
 the savage, could feel no such justification as 
 the consciousness of injury. 
 
 Here was the first introduction of the mer- 
 cenary character, which actuates the hireling 
 soldier ; and, though civilization was not then 
 far enough advanced, to make it very conspicu- 
 ous, there were other elements mingled, which 
 
THE KANGEK. 161 
 
 could not but depreciate the simple nobility of 
 the pioneer's nature. Many of the qualities 
 which, in him, had been merely passive, in the 
 ranger became iierce and active. We liave al- 
 luded, for example, to his hatred of the Indian ; 
 and this, habit soon strengthened and exagger- 
 ated. JS'othing marks that change so plainly as 
 his adoption of the barbarous practice of scalp- 
 ing enemies. 
 
 For this there might be some little palliation 
 in the fact, that the savage never considered a 
 warrior overcome, though he were killed, un- 
 less he lost his scalp ; and so long#s he could 
 bring off the dead bodies of his comrades, not 
 mutilated by the process, he was but partially 
 intimidated. Defeat was, in that case, convert- 
 ed to a sort of triumph ; and having gone with- 
 in one step of victory — for so this half-success 
 was estimated ^ — was the strongest incentive to 
 a renewal of the effort. It might be, therefore, 
 that the ranger's adoption of the custom was a 
 measure of self-defence. But it is to be feared 
 that this consideration' — weak as it is, when 
 stated as an excuse for cruelty so barbarous — 
 had but little influence in determining the ran- 
 ger. Adopting the code of the savage, the prac- 
 tice soon became a part of his warfare ; and 
 the taking of the scalp was a ceremony neces- 
 
1G2 WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 
 
 pary to the completion of liis victoiy. It was a 
 l)loo(]v and inlmman trinmpli — a custom which 
 tended, more forcibly than any other, to de- 
 grade true courage to mere cruelty ; and which, 
 while it only mortified the savage, at the same 
 time, by rendering his hatred of the white men 
 more implacable, aggravated the horrors of In- 
 dian warfare. But the only measure of justice 
 in those days, was the lex talionis — "An eye 
 for an eye," a scalp for a scalp ; and, even 
 now, you may hear frontiermen justify, though 
 they do not practise it, by quoting the venera- 
 ble maximji^' Fight the devil with fire." 
 
 But, though the warfare of the ranger was 
 sometimes distinguished by cruelty, it was also 
 ennobled by features upon which it is far more 
 pleasant to dwell. 
 
 No paladin, or knight, of the olden times, 
 ever exhibited more wild, romantic daring, 
 than that which formed a part of the ranger's 
 daily action. Danger, in a thousand forms, 
 beset him at every step — he defied mutilation, 
 death by fire and lingering torture. The num- 
 ber of his enemies, he never counted, until after 
 he had conquered them — the power of the 
 tribe, or the prowess of the warrior, was no ele- 
 ment in his calculations. Where he could 
 
THE RxVXGER. 163 
 
 Bfrlkc first and most cffoctnally, was liis only 
 iiKjuiiy. Securing an avenue for retreat was 
 no part of his strategy — for he had never an 
 intention or thought of returning, except as a 
 victor. "Keeping open his communications," 
 either with the rear or the flanks, had no place 
 in his system ; " combined movements" he sel- 
 dom attempted, for he depended for victory, 
 upon the force he chanced to have directly at 
 hand. The distance from his " base of opera- 
 tions" be never measured ; for he carried all 
 his supplies about his person, and he never 
 lo tked for reinforcements. Brido^es and wao:on- 
 roads he did not require, for he could swim all 
 the rivers, and he never lost his way in the for- 
 est. He carried his artillerj^ uj^on his shoulder, 
 his tactics were the maxims of Indian warfare, 
 and his only drill was the " ball-practice" of 
 the w^oods. He was his own commissary, for 
 he carried his " rations" on his back, and re- 
 plenished his havresack with his rifle. He 
 needed no quartermaster ; for he furnished his 
 own "transportation," and selected his own 
 encampment ^ — -his bed was the bosom of moth- 
 er-earth, and his tent was the foliage of an oak 
 or the canopy of heaven. In most cases — 
 especially in battle — he was his own com- 
 mander, too ; for he was impatient of restraint, 
 
164: WESTERN CIIAKACTEES. 
 
 and in savage warfare knew Lis dntj as well as 
 an J man could instruct him. Obedience was 
 no part of liis nature — subordination was irk- 
 some and oppressive. In a word, lie was an 
 excellent soldier, without drill, discipline or 
 orsranization. 
 
 o 
 
 Pie was as active as he was brave — as un- 
 tiring as he was fearless. 
 
 A corps of rangers moved so rapidlj, as ap- 
 parently to double its numbers — dispersing on 
 the Illinois or Missouri, and reassembling on 
 the Mississippi, on the following daj^ — travers- 
 ing tlie Okan timber to-day, and fording the 
 Ohio to-morrow. One of them, noted among 
 the Indians for desperate fighting, and person- 
 ally known for many a bloody meeting, would 
 appear so nearly simultaneously in different 
 phices, as to acquire the title of a " Great Medi- 
 cine;" and instances have been known, where 
 as many as thiee distinct war-parties have told 
 of obstinate encounters with the same men in 
 one day ! Their apparent ubiquity awed the 
 Indians more than their prowess. 
 
 General Benjamin Howard, who, in eighteen 
 hundred and thirteen resis^ned the office of q-ov 
 ernor of Missouri, and accepted the appointment 
 of brigadier-general, in command of the militia 
 
THE KANGEK. 165 
 
 and rangers of Missouri and Illinois, at no time, 
 except for a few weeks in eighteen hundred and 
 fourteen, had more than one thousand men un- 
 der his orders : And yet, with this inconsider- 
 able force, he protected a frontier extending 
 from the waters of the Wabash, westward to the 
 advanced settlements of Missouri — driving the 
 savages northward beyond Peoria, and intimi- 
 dating them by the prom2)titude and rapidity 
 of his movements. 
 
 Our government contributed nothing to the 
 defence of its frontieis, except an act of Con- 
 gress, which authorized them to defend them- 
 selves ! The Indians, amounting to at least 
 twenty tribes, had been stirred up to hostility 
 by the Britisli, and, before the establishment 
 of rangers, were murdering and plundering al- 
 most with impunity. But soon after the organ- 
 ization of these companies, the tide began to 
 turn. The ranger was at least a match for the 
 savage in his own mode of warfare ; and he had, 
 moreover, the advantages of civilized weapons, 
 and a steadiness and constancy, unknown to 
 the disorderly war-parties of the red men. 
 
 He was persevering beyond all example, and 
 exhibited endurance which astonished even the 
 stoical savage. Three or four hours' rest, after 
 
166 WESTERN CHAKAOTERS. 
 
 weeks of hardsliip and exposure, prepared him 
 for another expedition. If the severity of his 
 vengeance, or the success of a daring enter- 
 prise, intimidated the Indian for a time, and 
 gave him a few days' leisure, he grew impa- 
 tient of inactivity, and was straightway phm- 
 ning some new exploit. The moment one sug- 
 gested itself, he set about accomplishing it — 
 and its hardihood and peril caused no hesita- 
 tion. He would march, on foot, hundreds of 
 miles, through an unbroken wilderness, until 
 he reached the j^oint where the blow was to be 
 struck ; and then, awaiting the darkness, in the 
 middle of the night, he would fall upon his un- 
 suspecting enemies and carry all before him. 
 
 During the war of independence, the ran- 
 gers had not yet assumed that name, nor were 
 they as thoroughly organized, as they became 
 in the subsequent contest of eighteen hundred 
 and twelve. But the same material was there 
 — the same elements of character, actuated by 
 the same spirit. Let the following instance 
 show what that spirit was. 
 
 In the year seventeen hundred and seventy- 
 seven, there lived at Cahokia — on the east 
 side of the ISlississippi below Saint Louis — a 
 Pennsylvanian by the name of Brady — a rest- 
 
THE KANGKR. 167 
 
 less, daring man, just made for a leader of ran- 
 gers. In an interval of inactivity, lie conceived 
 the idea of capturing one of the British posts in 
 Michigan, the nearest point of which was at 
 least three hundred miles distant ! lie forth- 
 with set about raising a company — and, at the 
 end of three days, found liiniself invested with 
 the command of sixteen men ! With these, on 
 the first of October, he started on a journey of 
 more than one hundred leagues, through the 
 vast solitudes of the prairies and the thousand 
 perils of the forest, to take a military station, 
 occupied by a detachment of British soldiers ! 
 After a long and toilsome march, tliey reached 
 the banks of the St. Joseph's river, on which 
 the object of their expedition stood. Awaiting 
 the security of midnight, they suddenlj^ broke 
 from their cover in the neighborhood, and by a 
 coup de main^ captured the fort without the loss 
 of a man ! Thus far all went well — for besides 
 the success and safety of the party, they found 
 a large amount of stores, belonging to traders, 
 in the station, and were richly paid for their en- 
 terprise — but having been detained by the foot- 
 sore, on their homeward march, and probably 
 delayed by their plunder, they had only reached 
 the Calumet, on the borders of Indiana, wlien 
 they were overtaken by three hundred British 
 
108 ^VESTKI^N ciiAiiAcnoRfl. 
 
 and Indijins! Tlioy were foi'ccd to Burrcnder, 
 tlioiigli not witboiit a liglit, for men of that 
 Btainp were not to be intimidated by nnmbere. 
 [Hwy lost in ibe slvirmish one fourtli of tlieir 
 nuiubcr: tlie snrvivors were carried away to 
 C^jUKubi, wlience r>rady, tbe leader, escaped, and 
 retnrned 1o (^aliokia tbe same winter. Tbe 
 twelve remained })risoners nntil seventeen bnn- 
 dred and seventy-nine. 
 
 Ao^ainst most men tbis reverse wonld bavo 
 i;Mvcn tlie liltle fort secnrity — at least, nntil tbe 
 memory of tbe disaster bad been obscured by 
 tiuK'. But tbe pioneers of tbat period were not 
 to be judiijed by ordinary rules. Tbe very next 
 spring (17TS), anotber company was raised for 
 tbe same object, and to wipe outwbat tbey con- 
 sidered tbe stain of a failure. It was led by a 
 man named Maize, over tbe same ground, to tbe 
 same i)bu'e, and was com]>letely successful. 
 Tbe fort was retaken, tbe trading-station plun- 
 dered, tlie wounded men of Brady's party re- 
 leased, and, loaded witb spoil, tbe little party 
 marcbed back in triumpb ! 
 
 Tbero is an ej^isode in tbe bistory of tbeir 
 bomeward marcb, wbicb illustrates anotber 
 cbaracteristic of tbe ranger — bis rutblessness. 
 
rilK UAMGlvR. 109 
 
 '^riic Baltic ppirit wliicli loci him to diBrcgiird 
 |»liy8icjil obstiiclcs, })reveiitod his Hhrinking iVom 
 even diroful necoBsitles. One of tho prisonors 
 ^v]l()^ll llicy had liberated, becaino exhausted 
 and unable to proceed. They could not cany 
 him, and would not have him to die of starva- 
 tion in Ihe wildeniefis. They could not halt 
 \vilh him, lewt the name i'ato nhould overtake 
 tluMn, which had defeated the enter])riKe of 
 l>rady. ]>ut one alternative I'emained, and 
 thou«;^h, to UH, it appears cruel and inhuman, it 
 was self-preservation to tliem, and mercy, in a 
 stran<^e guise, to tho unhap])y victim — he was 
 dc^patclxul hy the hand of the leader', and 
 bui-I(!(l upon tho prairie I His grave is some- 
 where near the head-waters of the Wabash, and 
 has probably been visited by no man from that 
 day to this ! 
 
 Mournful reflections cluster round such a 
 narrative as this, and we are impelled to use 
 the word " atrocious" when we speak of it. It 
 was certainly a bloody deed, but tho men of 
 those days were not nurturcid in drawing-rooms, 
 and never sh^pt upon down-beds. A state of 
 war, moreover, begets nuiny evils, and none 
 ol' Ihem are more to be d(^])lor(;d than the occa- 
 fiional occurrence of such terrible necessities. 
 8 
 
170 AVESTICKN C1IAKACTER8. 
 
 The raiigcr-clKiractcr, like tlie pioneer-natnre 
 of which it was a phase, was conipounded of 
 various and widely-differing elements. 'No one 
 of his evil qualities was more prominent than 
 several of the good ; and, I am sorry to say, 
 none of the good was more prominent than 
 several of the bad. No class**of men did more 
 efficient service in defending the western settle- 
 ments from the inroads of the Indians ; and 
 though it seems hard that the war should some- 
 times have been carried into the country of the 
 untutored savage by civilized men, with a 
 severity exceeding his own, we should remem- 
 ber that we can not justly estimate the motives 
 and feelings of the ranger, without first having 
 been exasperated by liis sufferings and tried by 
 his temptations. 
 
V. 
 
 THE REGULATOR. 
 
 ' Thieves for their robbery have authority, 
 When judges steal themselves."— 
 
 Measure fob Measubb. 
 
 At the coDcliision of peace between England 
 and America, in eighteen linndred and fifteen, 
 tlie Indians, who had been instigated and sup- 
 ported in their hostility by the British, suddenly 
 found themselves deprived of their allies. If 
 they now made war upon the Americans, they 
 must do so upon their own responsibility, and, 
 excepting tlie encouragement of a few traders 
 and commanders of outposts, whose enmity 
 survived the general pacification, without assists 
 ance from abroad. They, however, refused to 
 lay down their arms, and hostilities were con 
 tinued, though languidly, for some years longer. 
 But the rangers, now disciplined by the experi 
 ence of protracted warfare, and vastly increased 
 
172 WESTERN CHAEACTERS. 
 
 in numbers, had grown to be more than a match 
 for them, so that not many years elapsed before 
 the conclusion of a peace, which has lasted, 
 with but occasional interruptions, to the present 
 day. 
 
 When danger no longer threatened the settle- 
 ments, there was no further call for these irreg- 
 ular troops. The companies were disbanded, 
 and those who had families, as a large propor- 
 tion of them had, returned to their plantations, 
 and resumed the pursuits of industry and peace. 
 Those who had neither farms nor families, and 
 were unfitted by their stirring life for regular 
 effort, emigrated further west. Peace settled 
 uj)on our borders, never, we hope, to be seriously 
 broken. 
 
 But as soon as the pressure of outward danger 
 was withdrawn, and our communities began to 
 expand, the seeds of new evils were developed 
 — seeds which had germinated unobserved, 
 while all eyes were averted, and which now 
 began to shoot up into a stately growth of vices 
 and crimes. The pioneers soon learned that 
 there was among them a class of unprincipled 
 and abandoned men, whose only motive in 
 emigrating was to avoid the restraints, or escape 
 the penalties, of law, and to w^hom the freedom 
 
THE EEaULATOE. 173 
 
 of the wilderness was a license to commit every 
 sort of depredation. The arm of the law was 
 not yet strong enough to punish them. 
 
 The territorial governments were too busy in 
 completing their own organization, to give 
 much attention to details : where states had. 
 been formed, the statute-book was yet a blank : 
 few officers had been appointed, and even these 
 were strangers to their duties and charge of re- 
 sponsibility. Between the military rule of the 
 rangers — for they were for internal police as 
 well as external defence — and the establishment 
 of regular civil government, there was a sort 
 of inteiTcgnum, during which there was neither 
 law nor power to enforce it. The bands of 
 villains who infested the country were the only 
 organizations known ; and, in not a few in- 
 stances, these bands included the very magis- 
 trates whose duty it was to see that the laws 
 were faithfully executed. Even when this was 
 not the case, it was a fruitless effort to arrest a 
 malefactor ; indeed, it was very often worse than 
 fruitless, for his confederates were always ready 
 to testify in his favor : and the usual conse- 
 quence of an attempt to punish, was the draw- 
 ing down upon the head of the complainant or 
 prosecutor, the enmity of a whole confederacy. 
 Legal proceedings, had provision been made for 
 
174: WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 
 
 such, were worse than useless, for conviction 
 was impossible : and the effort exasperated, 
 while .the failure encouraged, the outlaw spirit. 
 An alibi was the usual defence, and to those 
 times may be referred the general prejudice en- 
 tertained among our people, even at the present 
 day, against that species of testimony. A jury 
 of western men will hardly credit an alihi^ 
 though established by unexceptionable wit- 
 nesses ; and the announcement that the accused 
 depends upon that for his defence, will create 
 a strong prejudice against him in advance. In- 
 justice may sometimes be done in this way, but 
 it is a feeling of which our people came honestly 
 in possession. They established a habit, in early 
 days, of never believing an alihi^ because, at 
 that time, nine alihls in ten were false, and 
 habits of thought, like legal customs, cling to 
 men long after their reason has ceased. It is 
 right, too, that it should be so, on the principle 
 that we should not suspend the use of the 
 remedy until the disease be thoroughly con- 
 quered. 
 
 In a state of things, such as we have de- 
 scribed, but one of two things could be done : 
 the citizens must either abandon all effort to 
 assert the supremacy of order, and give the 
 
TIIE KEGULATOK. 175 
 
 country over to tliievcs and robbers, or tliey 
 must invent some new and irregular way of 
 forcing men to live honestly. They wdsely 
 chose the latter alternative. They consulted 
 together, and the institution of Regulators was 
 the result of their deliberations. 
 
 These were small bodies of men, chosen by 
 the people, or voluntarily assuming the duty — 
 men upon whom the citizens could depend for 
 both discretion and resolution. Their duties 
 may be explained in a few words : to ferret out 
 and punish criminals, to drive out " suspicious 
 characters," and exercise a general supervision 
 over the interests and police of the settlements, 
 from which they were chosen. Their statute- 
 book was the "code of Judge Lynch" — their 
 order of trial was similar to that of a "drum- 
 head court-martial" — the principles of their 
 punishment was certainty, rapidity, and sever- 
 ity. Tbey were judges, juries, witnesses, and 
 executioners. 
 
 They bound themselves by a regular compact 
 (usually verbal, but sometimes in writing^), to 
 the people and to each other, to rid the commu- 
 nity of all thieves, robbers, plunderers, and 
 ^ illains of every description. They scoured the 
 
 * See note at the close of tliis article. 
 
176 WESTERN CHAKACTERS. 
 
 country in all directions and in all seasons, and 
 by the swiftness of their movements, and the 
 certainty of their vengeance, rivalled their pred- 
 ecessors, the rangers. When a depredation 
 had been committed, it was marvellous with 
 what rapidity every regulator knew it ; even 
 the telegra^^h of modern days performs no 
 greater wonders : and it frequently happened, 
 that the first the quiet citizens heard of a theft, 
 or a robbery, was the news of its punishment ! 
 Their acts may sometimes have been high- 
 handed and imjustifiable, but on the whole — 
 and it is only in such a view that social institu- 
 tions are to be estimated — they were the pre- 
 servers of the communities for whom they acted. 
 In time, it is true, they degenerated, and some- 
 times the corps fell into the liands of the very 
 men they were organized to punish. 
 
 Every social organization is liable to mis- 
 direction, and this, among others, has been per- 
 verted to the furtherance of selfish and unprin- 
 cipled purposes ; for, like prejudices and habits 
 of thought, organized institutions frequently 
 survive the necessities which call them into 
 existence. Abuses grow up under all systems ; 
 and, perhaps, the worst abuse of all, is a meas- 
 ure or expedient, good though temporary, re- 
 
THE REGULATOR. 177 
 
 tained after the passing away of the time for 
 which it was adopted. 
 
 But liaviiig, in the article " Pioneer," suffi- 
 ciently elaborated the character — for the regu- 
 lator was of course a pioneer also — we can best 
 illustrate the mode of his action by a narrative 
 of facts. From the hundreds of well-authenti- 
 cated stories which might be collected, I have 
 chosen the two following, because they dis- 
 tinguish the successive stages or periods of the 
 system. The first relates to the time when a 
 band of regulators was the only reliable legal 
 power, and when, consequently, the vigilance 
 of the citizens kept it comparatively pure. The 
 second indicates a later period, when the people 
 no longer felt insecure, and there was in fact no 
 necessity for the system ; and when, not having 
 been disused, it could not but be abused. We 
 derive both from an old citizen of the country, 
 who was an actor in each. One of them, the 
 first, has already been in print, but owing to 
 circumstances to wdiich it is needless to advert, 
 it was thought better to confine the narrative to 
 facts already generally known. These circum- 
 stances aie no longer operative, and I am now 
 at liberty to publish entire the story of " The 
 First Grave." 
 
 8* 
 
178 WESTERN CHAEACTERS. 
 
 THE FIRST GRAVE. 
 
 At the commencement of the war of eighteen 
 hundred and twelve, between Great Britain and 
 the United States, there lived, in the western 
 part of Virginia, three families, named, respec- 
 tively. Stone, Cutler, and Eoberts. They were 
 all respectable people, of more than ordinary 
 wealth ; having succeeded, by an early emigra- 
 tion and judicious selection of lands, in rebuild- 
 ing fortunes which had been somewhat impaired 
 east of the Blue Ridge. Between the first and 
 second there was a relationship, cemented by 
 several matrimonial alliances, and the standing 
 of both had been elevated by this union of for- 
 tunes. In each of these two, there were six or 
 seven children — the most of them boyS' — but 
 Captain Roberts, the head of the third, had bu^ 
 one child, a daughter, who, in the year named, 
 was approaching womanhood. 
 
 She is said to have been beautiful : and, from 
 the extravagant admiration of those who saw 
 her only when time and sufi'ering must have 
 obscured her attractions, there can be little 
 doubt that she was so. What her character 
 was, we can only conjecture from the tenor of 
 our story : though we have reason to suspect that 
 
THE KECrULATOE. 179 
 
 slie was passionate, impulsive, and somewhat 
 vain of lier personal appearance. 
 
 At the opening of liostilities between the two 
 conntries, she ^vas wooed by two suitors, young 
 Stone, the eldest of the sons of that family, and 
 Abram Cutler, who was two or three years his 
 senior. Both had recently returned home, after 
 a protracted absence of several years, beyond 
 the mountains, whither they had been sent by 
 their ambitious parents, " to attend college and 
 see the world." Stone was a quiet, modest, un- 
 assuming young man, rather handsome, but too 
 pale and thin to be decidedly so. Having made 
 the most of his opportunities at " William and 
 Mary," he had come home well-educated (for 
 that day and country) and polished by inter- 
 course with good society. 
 
 His cousin, Abram Cutler, was his opposite 
 in almost everything. He had been wild, reck- 
 less, and violent, at college, almost entirely 
 giving up his studies, after the first term, and 
 always found in evil company. His manners 
 were as much vitiated as his morals, for he was 
 exceedingly rough, boisterous, and unpolished : 
 so much so, indeed, as to approach that limit 
 beyond which wealth will not make society 
 tolerant. But his freedom of manner bore, to 
 most observers, tlie appearance of generous 
 
180 WESTERN CHARACTEES. 
 
 lieartinesSj and lie soon gained tlie good will of 
 the neigliborliood by the careless prodigality 
 of his life. He was tall, elegantly formed, and 
 quite well-looking ; and though he is said to 
 have borne, a few years later, a sinister and dis- 
 honest look, it is probable that most of this was 
 attributable to the preconceived notions of those 
 who thus judged him. 
 
 Both these young men were, as we have said, 
 suitors for the hand of Margaret Roberts, and 
 it is possible that the vain satisfaction of having 
 at her feet the two most attractive young men 
 in the country, led her to coquet with them both, 
 but decidedly to prefer neither. It is almost 
 certain, that at the period indicated, she was 
 sufficiently well-pleased with either to have be- 
 come his wife, had the other been away. If 
 she loved either, however, it was Stone, for she 
 was a little timid, and Cutler sometimes fright- 
 ened her with his violence : but the preference, 
 if it existed at all, was not sufficiently strong to 
 induce a choice. 
 
 About this time, the elder Cutler died, and it 
 became necessary for Abram, as executor of a 
 large estate, to cross the mountains into the Old 
 Dominion, and arrange its complicated affairs. 
 It was not without misgiving that he went away, 
 
THE REGULATOR. 181 
 
 but liis duties were imperative, and liis necessi- 
 ties, produced by his spendthrift habits, were 
 pressing. He trusted to a more than usually 
 favorable interview with Margaret, and full of 
 sanguine hopes, departed on his journey. 
 
 "Whether Stone entertained the idea of taking 
 an unfair advantage of his rival's absence, we 
 can not say, but he straightway became more 
 assiduous in his attentions to Margaret. He 
 was also decidedly favored by Captain Roberts 
 and his wife, both of whom had been alarmed 
 by the violent character of Cutler. Time soon 
 began to obscure the recollection of the absent 
 suitor, and Stone's delicate and considerate 
 gallantry rapidly gained ground in Margaret's 
 affections. It was just one month after Cutler's 
 departure that his triumph was complete ; she 
 consented to be his wife so soon as the minister 
 wdio travelled on that circuit should enter the 
 neighborhood. But the good man had set out 
 on his circuit only the day before the consent 
 was given, and it would probably be at least a 
 month before his return. In the meantime, 
 Cutler might recross the mountains, and Stone 
 had seen quite enough of Margaret's capricious- 
 ness to tremble for the safety of his conquest, 
 should that event occur before it was thoroughly 
 secured. 
 
182 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 
 
 This was embarrassing : but when a man is 
 in earnest, exj^edients are never wanting. 
 
 There was an old gentleman living a few 
 miles from the valley, who had once held the 
 commission of a justice of the peace, and 
 thongh he had not exercised his functions, or 
 even claimed his dignity, for several years. Stone 
 was advised that he retained his official power 
 '' until his successor was appointed and quali- 
 fied," and that, consequently, any official act of 
 his would be legal and valid. He was advised, 
 moreover, and truly, that even if the person per- 
 forming the ceremony were not a magistrate, a 
 marriage would be lawful and binding upon the 
 simple " consent" of the parties, properly pub- 
 lished and declared. 
 
 Full-freighted with the happy news, he posted 
 away to Captain Roberts, and without difficulty 
 obtained his sanction. He then went to Mar- 
 garet, and, with the assistance of her mother, 
 who stood in much dread of Cutler's violence, 
 succeeded in persuading her to consent. With- 
 out delay, the cidevant magistrate was called in, 
 the ceremony was performed, and Margaret was 
 Stone's wife ! 
 
 The very day after this event. Cutler return- 
 ed ! What were his thoughts no one knew, for 
 
THE EEGULATOE. 183 
 
 he spoke to none upon the subject. He went, 
 however, to see " the bride," and, in the presence 
 of others, bantered her pleasantly upon her new 
 estate, npon his own pretensions, and upon the 
 haste with which the ceremony had been per- 
 formed. He started away with the rest of the 
 company present; but, on reaching the door — 
 it was afterward remembered — pretended to 
 have forgotten something, and ran back into the 
 room where they had left Margaret alone. Here 
 he remained full ten minutes, and when he came 
 out walked thoughtfully apart and disappeared. 
 "What he said to Margaret no one knew ; but, 
 that evening, when they were alone, she asked 
 anxiously of her husband, " whether he was 
 quite sure that tbeir marriage had been legal?" 
 Stone reassured her, and nothing more was said 
 upon the subject. 
 
 Cutler had brought with him, over the moun- 
 tains, the proclamation of the governor of Yir- 
 ginia, announcing the declaration of war, and 
 calling upon the state for its quota of troops to 
 repel invasion. He manifested a warm interest 
 in the enrolling and equipment of vo'nnteers, 
 and, in order to attest his sincerity, placed his 
 own name first upon the roll. A day or two 
 afterward, on meeting Stone, in the presence of 
 
184 WESTEEN CHARACTERS. 
 
 several others who had enrolled themselves, he 
 laughingly observed, that the new bridegroom 
 " was probably too comfortable at home, to de- 
 sire any experience in campaigning :" and, turn- 
 ing away, he left the company laughing at 
 Stone's expense. 
 
 This touched the young man's pride — proba- 
 bly the more closely, because he was conscious 
 that the insinuation was not wholly void of truth 
 — and, without a moment's hesitation, he called 
 Cutler back, took the paper, and enrolled his 
 name. Cutler laughed again, said he would 
 not liave done so, had he been in Stone's cir- 
 cumstances, and, after some further conversa- 
 tion, walked away in the direction of Stone's 
 residence. Whether he actually entered the 
 house is not known ; but wlien the young hus- 
 band returned home, a few hours afterwai d, his 
 wife's first words indicated that she knew of his 
 enrolment. 
 
 "Is it possible," said she, with some asperity, 
 " that you ah-eady care so little for me as to en- 
 rol yourself for an absence of six months?" 
 
 Stone would much have preferred to break 
 the news to her himself, for he had some fore- 
 boding as to the view she might take of his 
 conduct. lie had scarcely been married a week, 
 and he was conscious that a severe construction 
 
THE REGULATOR. 185 
 
 of the act of enrolment, when there was no- 
 toriously not the least necessity for it, might 
 lead to inferences, than which, nothing could 
 he more false. If he had said, at once, that he 
 had been taunted by his old rival, and written 
 his name under the influence of pride, all would 
 have been well, for his wife would then have 
 understood, though she might not have ap- 
 proved his action. But this confession he was 
 ashamed to make, and, by withholding it, laid 
 the foundation for his own and his wife's de- 
 struction. He at once acknowledged the fact, 
 disclaiming, however, the indijBference to her, 
 which she inferred, and placing the act upon 
 higher ground : — 
 
 " The danger of the country," he said, " was 
 very imminent, and it became every good citizen 
 to do all he could for its defence. He had no 
 idea that the militia would be called far from 
 home, or detained for a very long time ; but, in 
 any event, he felt that men wer^ bound, in such 
 circumstances, to cast aside personal considera- 
 tions, and contribute, each his share, to the 
 common defence." 
 
 His wife gazed incredulously at him while he 
 talked this high patriotism : and well she might, 
 for lie did not speak as one moved by such feel- 
 ings. The consciousness of deceit, of conceal- 
 
186 WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 
 
 ment, and of cliildisli rashness, rendered his 
 manner hesitating and embarrassed. Margaret 
 observed all this, for her jealousy was aroused 
 and her suspicions sharpened ; she made no 
 reply, however, but turned away, with a toss of 
 the head, and busied herself, quite fiercely, with 
 her household cares. From that moment, until 
 the day of his departure, she stubbornly avoid- 
 ed the subject, listening, but refusing to reply, 
 when her husband attempted to introduce it. 
 "When Cutler came — rather unnecessarily, aa 
 Stone thought' — to consult him about the or- 
 ganization of a spy-company, to which both 
 were attaclied, she paid no attention to their 
 conversation, but walked away down a road 
 over which she knew Cutler must pass on his 
 return homeward. Whether this was by ap- 
 pointment with him is not known : probably, 
 however, it was her own motion. 
 
 TVe need not stay to detail all that took place 
 between her and her former suitor, when, as she 
 had expected, they met in a wood some hun- 
 dreds of yards from her home ; its result will 
 sufiiciently appear in the sequel. One circum- 
 stance, however, we must not omit. She re- 
 curred to a conversation whijch had passed some- 
 time before, in relation to the legality of her 
 
THE REGULATOR. 187 
 
 mnrnage ; and tlioiigli Cutler gave no positive 
 opinion, his parting advice was nearly in the 
 following words : — 
 
 " If jou think, from your three weeks' expe- 
 rience, that Stone cares enough for you to make 
 it prudent, I would advise you to have the mar- 
 riage ceremony performed by Parson Bowen, 
 immediately u})on his return ; and if you care 
 enough for him to wish to retain him, you had 
 better have it performed hefore he goes awayP 
 
 "With these words, and without awaiting an 
 answer, he passed on, leaving her alone in the 
 road. AVhen she returned home, she did not 
 mention the subject ; and though Parson Bowen 
 returned to the neighborhood quite a week 
 before Stone went away, she never suggested a 
 repetition of the ceremony. When Stone mani- 
 fested some anxiety on the subject, she turned 
 suddenly upon him and demanded — 
 
 " You do not think our marriage legal, then ?" 
 
 He assured her that he only made the sug- 
 gestion for her satisfaction, entertaining no 
 doubt, himself, that they w^ere regularly and 
 lawfully married. 
 
 " I am content to remain as I am," she said, 
 curtly, and the parson was not summoned. 
 
 Five days afterward the troops took up the 
 line of march for the frontier. Hull had not 
 
188 WESTEEN CIIARAC"rEE3. 
 
 jet surrendered Michigan ; but Proctor had so 
 stirred np tlie Indians (wlio, until then, had been 
 quiet since the battle of Tippecanoe), as to cut 
 off all communication with the advanced settle- 
 ments, and even to threaten the latter with fire 
 and slaughter. Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois, were 
 then oveirun by British and Indians; for Hop- 
 kins had not yet commenced his march from 
 Kentnckv, and Concrress was still debatin^^ meas- 
 ures for protection. Hull's surrender took place 
 on the sixteenth of August, eighteen hundred 
 and twelve, and in the following month. General 
 Harrison, having been appointed to the chief 
 command in the northwest, proceeded to adopt 
 vigorous measures for the defence of the country. 
 It was to one of the regiments organized by 
 him, that our friends from Virginia found them- 
 selves attached. They had raised a company 
 of spies, and in this both Stone and Cutler held 
 commissions. 
 
 They marched with the regiment, or rather in 
 advance of it, for several weeks. By that time, 
 they had penetrated many miles beyond the 
 settlement.^, and Harrison began to feel anxious 
 to ascertain the position of General Hopkins, 
 and open communications with him. For this 
 service Cutler volunteered, and was imme- 
 
I 
 
 THE r.EGULATOK. ISO 
 
 diately selected by the general. On the folloTT- 
 ing morning, he set out with live men to seek 
 the Kentuckians. He found them without dijQi- 
 eulty and delivered his despatches : but from 
 that day he was not seen, either in the camp of 
 Hopkins or in that of Harrison I It was sup- 
 posed that he had started on his return, and 
 been taken or killed by the Indians, parties of 
 whom were prowling about between the lines 
 of the two columns. 
 
 Stone remained with his company two or 
 three months longer, when, the enterprise of 
 Hopkins having failed, and operations being 
 suspended for the time, it was thought inex- 
 pedient to retain them for the brief period 
 which remained of their term of enlistment, 
 and they were discharged. Stone returned 
 home, and, full of anticipations, the growth of a 
 long absence, hastened at once to his own house. 
 The door was closed, no smoke issued from the 
 chimney, there was no one there ! After calling 
 in vain for a long time, he ran away to her 
 father's, endeavoring to feel certain that he would 
 find her there. But the old man received him 
 with a mournful shake of the head. Margaret 
 Lad been gone more than a month, no one knew 
 whither or with whom ! 
 
190 WESTERN CHARACTEE9. 
 
 A report had been in circulation that Cutler 
 was seen in the neighborhood, a few days before 
 her disappearance ; but no news having been 
 received of his absence from the army, it had 
 not been generally credited. But now, it was 
 quite clear! 
 
 The old man invited Stone to enter, but he 
 declined. Sitting down on a log, he covered his 
 face with his hands, for a few moments, and 
 seemed buried in grief. It did not last long, 
 however : he rose almost immediately, and going 
 a little aside, calmly loaded his rifle. Without 
 noticing the old man, who stood gazing at him 
 in wonder, he turned away, and, with his eyes 
 fixed upon the ground, took the path toward his 
 own house. He was seen to break the door and 
 enter, but he remained within only a few 
 minutes. On coming out, he threw his rifle 
 over his shoulder, and walked away through the 
 forest. Half an hour ftfterward, smoke was 
 seen issuing from the roof of the house in several 
 places, and on repairing thither, the neighbors 
 found the whole place in a bright flame ! It 
 was of no use to attempt to save it or any of its 
 contents. An hour afterward, it was a heap of 
 smouldering ruins, and its owner had disap- 
 peared from the country ! 
 
THE EEGULATOR. 191 
 
 * * -X- * ^ 
 
 Seven years passed away. 
 
 The war was over: the Indians had been 
 driven to the north and west, and the tide of 
 emigration had again set toward the Missis- 
 sippi. The northwestern territory — especially 
 that part of it which is now included within the 
 limits of Illinois and Indiana — was rapidly fil- 
 ling lip with people from the south and east. The 
 advanced settlements had reached the site of 
 Sj)ringfield, in the " Sangamon country,"* now 
 the capital of Illinois, and a few farms were 
 opened in the north of Madison county — now 
 Morgan and Scott. The beautiful valley, most 
 inaptly called, of the Mauvaisterre^ was then 
 an unbroken wilderness. 
 
 The grass was growing as high as the head 
 of a tall man, where now well-built streets and 
 public squares are traversed by hurrying crowds. 
 Groves which have since become classic were 
 then impenetrable thickets ; and the only guides 
 the emigrant found, through forest and prairie, 
 were the points of the compass, and the courses 
 
 * The "Sangamon country," as the phrase was then used, 
 included all the region watered by the river of that name, to- 
 gether with the counties of Cass, Morgan, and Scott, as far 
 Bouth as Apple creek. 
 
192 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 
 
 of streams. But in tlie years eighteen hundred 
 and seventeen, eighteen, and nineteen, the west- 
 ern slope of the Sangamon country began 
 rapidly to improve. Reports had gone abroad 
 of " the fertility of its soil, the beauty of its 
 surface, its genial climate, and its many ad- 
 vantages of position" — and there is certainly 
 no country which more richly deserves these 
 praises. 
 
 But the first emigrant who made his appear- 
 ance here, in the autumn of eighteen hundred 
 and nineteen, was probably moved by other 
 considerations. It was none other than Abram 
 Cutler ! And his family consisted of a wife and 
 three young children ! That wife was Margaret 
 Eoberts — or rather Margaret Stone ; for, not- 
 withstanding the representations of Cutler, her 
 union with Stone had been perfectl}^ legal. By 
 what arts he had succeeded in inducing her to 
 elope with him, we can only judge from his 
 previous proceedings ; but this is certain, that 
 resentment toward Stone, who, she probably be- 
 lieved, had unfairly trapped her, was as likely 
 to move her impulsive and unstable spirit, as 
 any other motive. Add to this, the wound 
 given to her vanity by the sudden departure of 
 her young husband upon a long campaign, with 
 
THE EEGULATOR. 193 
 
 the aciiteness given to this feeling by the arts 
 of Cutler, and we shall not be at a loss to ex- 
 plain her action. 
 
 Whether she had not bitterly repented her 
 criminal haste, we know not ; but that hardship 
 and suffering of some sort had preyed upon her 
 spirit, was evident in her appearance. Her 
 beauty was much faded ; she had grown pale 
 and thin ; and though she was scarcely yet in 
 the prime of womanhood, her step w^as heavy 
 and spiritless. She was not happy, of course, 
 but her misery was not only negative : the 
 gnawings of remorse were but too positive and 
 real ! 
 
 Cutler was changed almost as much as his 
 victim. The lapse of seven years had added a 
 score to his apparent age ; and, if we are to 
 credit the representations of persons who were 
 probably looking for signs of vice, the advance 
 of time had brought out, in well-marked linea- 
 ments, upon his countenance, the evil traits of 
 his character. His cheeks were sunken, his 
 features attenuated, and his figure exceedingly 
 spare, but he still exhibited marks of great per- 
 sonal strength and activity. His glance, always 
 of doubtful meaning, was now unsettled and 
 furtive ; and I have heard one of the actors in 
 this history assert, that it had a scared, appro- 
 9 
 
194: WESTERN CHAEACTERS. 
 
 hensive expression, as if he were in constant 
 expectation of meeting a dangerous enemy. 
 
 ISTor is this at all improbable, for during the 
 seven years which had elapsed since the con- 
 summation of his design upon Margaret, he had 
 emigrated no less than three times — frightened 
 away, at each removal, by some intimation, or 
 suspicion, that the avenger was on his track ! 
 !N"o wonder that his look was wary, and his face 
 pale and Laggard ! 
 
 On this, his fourth migration, he had crossed 
 the prairies from the waters of the Wabash ; 
 and having placed the wide expanse of waving 
 plain between him and the settlements, he at 
 length considered himself safe from pursuit. 
 Passing by the little trading-station, where 
 Springfield now stands, he traversed the beau- 
 tiful country lying between that and the Mau- 
 vaisterre. But the alternation of stately timber 
 and lovely prairie had no charms for him : he 
 sought not beauty or fertility, but seclusion ; 
 for his pilgrimage had become wearisome, and 
 his step was growing heavy. Remorse was at 
 his heart, and fear — the appealing face of his 
 patient victim kept his crime in continual re- 
 membrance — and he knew, that like a blood- 
 hound, his enemy was following behind. It 
 
TUE KEGULATOK. 195 
 
 was a weary load ! No wonder that his cheeks 
 were thin or his eyes wild ! 
 
 He passed on till he came to a qniet, secluded 
 spot, where he thought himself not likely soon 
 to be disturbed by emigration. It was sixteen 
 miles west of the place where Jacksonville has 
 since been built, upon the banks of the lower 
 Mauvaisterre, seven miles from the Illinois river. 
 The place was long known as Cutler's grove, 
 but a town grew up around it, and has been 
 christened by the sounding name of Exeter. 
 Those who visit it now, and have heard the 
 story of Cutler, will commend his judgment iu 
 selecting it for retirement ; for, town as it is, a 
 more secluded, dreamy little place is nowhere 
 to be found. It would seem that the passage 
 of a carriage through its street — for it has but 
 one — would be an event in its history ; and the 
 only things which redeem it, in the fanc}^, from 
 the category of visionary existences, are a black- 
 smith's shop and a mill ! 
 
 But Cutler's trail was seen upon the prairies, 
 and the course of many an emigrant was deter- 
 mined by the direction taken by his prede- 
 cessor. It was not long before others came to 
 " settle" in the neighborhood. Emigration was 
 
196 WESTERN CHARACTEES. 
 
 gradually encroaching, also, from tlie sontli ; 
 families began to take possession of the river 
 " bottoms ;" the smoke from frontier cabins 
 ascended in almost every point of timber ; and 
 by the summer of eighteen hundred and twenty, 
 Cutler found himself as far from the frontier as 
 ever ! But he was resolved not to move again : 
 a dogged spirit — half weariness, half desj^air 
 — had taken possession of him. " I have moved 
 often enough," he said to Margaret, " and here 
 I am determined to remain, come what may !" 
 
 Actuated by such feelings — goaded by a fear 
 which he could not conquer, and yet was reso- 
 lute not to indulo:e — the lurkino: devil in his 
 nature could not long remain dormant. Kothing 
 develops evil tendencies so rapidly as the con- 
 sciousness of wrong and the fear of punishment. 
 His life soon became reckless and abandoned, 
 and the first si^n of his deo-radation was his 
 neglect of his household. For days together 
 Margaret saw nothing of him ; his only com- 
 l^anions were the worthless and outlawed ; and, 
 when intoxicating liquors could be procured, 
 which was, fortunately, not often, he indulged 
 in fearful excesses. 
 
 Of evil compan}^, there was, unhappily, but 
 too much ; for the settlement was cursed with a 
 
THE REGULATOR. 197 
 
 band of desperadoes, exiles from organized so- 
 ciety, who had sought the frontier to obtain 
 impunity for their misdeeds. The leaders of 
 this band were three brothers, whom no law 
 could control, no obligation restrain ; and with 
 these men Cutler soon formed a close and sus- 
 picious intimacy. The eyes of the citizens had 
 been for some time directed toward the com- 
 panions, by circumstances attending various 
 depredations ; and, though unknown to them- 
 selves, they were constantly watched by many 
 of their neighbors. It is uncertain whether 
 Cutler was acquainted with the character uf the 
 men when his association with them first com- 
 menced, for in none of the places where he had 
 lived, had he hitherto been suspected of crime. 
 It is most probable that he sought their company 
 because they were " dissipated" like himself: 
 and that, in the inception of their acquaintance, 
 there was no other bond between them than the 
 habit of intoxication. 
 
 Had we time and space, we would fain pause 
 here to reflect upon the position and feelings 
 of the false wife — deserted, in her turn, by l)im 
 for whom she had given up truth and honor — 
 alone in the wilderness with her children, whose 
 birth she could not but regret, and harassed by 
 
198 WESTEEN CHAEACTEKS. 
 
 tlionglits wliicli could not but be painfally self- 
 condemning. But we must hasten on. 
 
 In the autumn of eighteen hundred and 
 twenty, information was brought to the settle- 
 ment, that a store at Springfield (as it is now 
 called), had been entered and robbed — that the 
 leaders of the desperadoes above alluded to, 
 were suspected — and that the goods stolen were 
 believed to be concealed in Cutler's grove, 
 where they lived. Warrants w^ere issued, and 
 the three were arrested; but the magistrate 
 before whom they were taken for examination, 
 was a timid and ignorant man ; and by the inter- 
 ference of Cutler, who assumed to be a lawyer, 
 they were examined separately, and allowed to 
 testify, each for the other ! An officer who 
 knew no more than to permit this, of course 
 could do no less than discharge them. Tlie 
 arrest and examination, however, crude and in- 
 formal as they were, confirmed the suspicions 
 of the citizens, and directed them, more vehe- 
 mently than ever, against Cutler, as well as his 
 friends. It satisfied them, moreover, that they 
 would never be able to reach these men through 
 tlie ordinary forms of law, and strengthened the 
 counsels of those who had already suggested 
 the organization of a company of regulators. 
 
THE REGULATOR. 199 
 
 AVhile these tliino'S were fermentino: in the 
 minds of the people, the desperadoes, encour- 
 aged by their success, and rendered bold by im- 
 punity, committed their depredations more 
 frequently and openly than ever. It was re- 
 marked, too, that Cutler, having committed 
 himself at the examination of friends, was now 
 more constantly and avowedly their associate ; 
 and, since he was not a man to play a second 
 part, that they deferred to him on all occasions, 
 never moving without him, and treating him at 
 all times as an acknowledged leader. The 
 people observed, moreover, that from being, like 
 his neighbors, a small farmer of limited posses- 
 sions, he rose rapidly to what, on the frontier, 
 was considered affluence. He soon ceased to 
 labor on his lands, and set up a very considera- 
 ble " store," importing his goods from Saint 
 Louis, and, by means of the whiskey he sold, 
 collecting all the idle and vicious of the settle- 
 ment constantly about him. His '^ store" was 
 in exceedingly bad repute, and the scanty repu- 
 tation whicli he had retained after the public 
 part he had taken before the magistrate, was 
 speedily lost. 
 
 Things were in this state in the spring of 
 eighteen hundred and twenty-one, when an old 
 
200 ^VESTEEN CHARACTERS. 
 
 gentleman of respectable appearance, who had 
 emigrated to this country bj water, having been 
 pleased with the land in the neighborhood of 
 the place where the town of Naples now stands, 
 landed his family and effects, and settled npon 
 the " bottom." It was soon rumored in the 
 settlement, that he had bronght with him a large 
 amount of money ; and it was also remarked 
 that Cutler and his three companions were con- 
 stantly with him, either at the " Grove" or on 
 the " bottom." Whether the rumor was the 
 cause of their attention, or their assiduity the 
 foundation of the report, the reader must deter- 
 mine for himself. 
 
 One evening in May, after a visit to this man, 
 where Cutler had been alone, he came home in 
 great haste, and suddenly announced to Mar- 
 garet his intention to " sell out," and move fur- 
 ther westward ! His unhappy victim supposed 
 she knew but too well the meaning of this new 
 movement : she asked no questions, but, with 
 a sigh of weariness, assented. On the follow- 
 ing day, he commenced hastily disposing of 
 his " store," his stock, his cabin — everything, in 
 fact, save a few farming ntensils, his furniture, 
 and a pair of liorses. It was observed — for 
 there were many eyes npon him — that he 
 
THE RKGULATOK. 201 
 
 never ventured out after twilight, and, even in 
 the broad sunshine, would not travel far, alone 
 or unarmed. In such haste did he seem, that 
 lie sold many of his goods at, what his friends 
 considered, a ruinous sacrifice. The fame of 
 great bargains brought many people to his 
 counter, so that, within ten days, his arrange- 
 ments were complete ; and, much to the satis- 
 faction of his neighbors, he set out toward the 
 river. 
 
 Two of his associates accompanied him on his 
 journey — a precaution for which he would give 
 no reason, except that he wished to converse 
 with them on the way. He crossed the Illinois 
 near the mouth of the Mauvaisterre, and, turn- 
 ing northward, in the evening reached a cabin 
 on the banks of M'Kee's creek, not more than 
 ten miles fiom his late residence. This house 
 had been abandoned by its former occupant, on 
 account of the foraj^s of the Indians ; Init was 
 now^ partially refitted, as for a temporarj^ abode. 
 Here, the people about "the grove" were sur- 
 prised to learn, a few^ days after Cutler's de- 
 parture, that he had halted with the apparent 
 intention to remain, at least for some time. 
 
 Their surprise w^as dissipated, however, with- 
 in a very few weeks. Tiie old gentleman, 
 9* 
 
202 WESTERN CHARACTEES. 
 
 spoken of abov^e, had left home upon a visit to 
 Saint Louis; and during his absence, his honse 
 had been entered, and robbed of a chest con- 
 taining a large amount of money — while the 
 family were intimidated by the threats of men 
 disguised as savages. 
 
 This was the culmination of villany. The 
 settlement was now thoroughly aroused ; and, 
 when one of these little communities was once 
 in earnest, it might safely be predicted that 
 something would be done ! 
 
 The first step was to call " a meeting of the 
 friends of law and order;" but no proclamation 
 was issued, no handbills were circulated, no 
 notices posted : not the least noise was made 
 about the matter, lest those against whom it 
 was to act, might hear of and prepare for it. 
 They came together quietly but speedily — 
 each man, as he heard of the appointment, 
 going forthwitli to his neighbor with the news. 
 They assembled at a central point, where none 
 need be late in coming, and immediately pro- 
 ceeded to business. The meeting was not al- 
 together a formal one — for purposes prescril)ed 
 bylaw — but it was a characteristic of those 
 men, to do everything " decently and in 
 order" — to give all their proceedings the 
 
THE REGULATOR. 203 
 
 sanction and solemnity of mature deliberation. 
 They organized the assemblage regularly — 
 calling one of the oldest and most respectable 
 of their number " to the chair" (which, on this 
 occasion, happened to be the root of a large 
 oak), and appointing a younger man secretary 
 (though they gave liim no desk on which to 
 write). There was no man there who did not 
 fully understand what had brought them to- 
 gether ; but one who lived in the " bottom," 
 and had been the mover of the organization, 
 w^as still called upon to '' explain the object of 
 the meeting." This he did in a few pointed 
 sentences, concluding with these significant 
 w^ords : " My friends, it is time that these ras- 
 cals were punished, and it is our duty to punish 
 them." 
 
 He sat down, and a silence of some moments 
 ensued, when another arose, and, without any 
 preliminary remarks, moved that " a company 
 of regulators be now organized, and that they 
 be charged with the duty of seeing the law ad- 
 ministeredP The motion was seconded by 
 half a dozen voices — the question was put in 
 due form by the chairman, and decided unan- 
 imously in the affirmative. 
 
 A piece of paper was produced, and the pre- 
 siding officer called on the meeting for volun- 
 
204 WESTERN CHAKAOTEES. 
 
 teers. Ten young men stepped forward, and 
 gave tlieir names as rapidly as the secretary 
 could enrol them. In less than five minutes, 
 the company was complete — the chairman and 
 four of the meeting, as a committee, \vere di- 
 rected to retire with the volunteers, and see 
 that they were fully organized — and the meet- 
 ing adjourned. All, except the volunteers and 
 the committee, went directly home — ^ satisfied 
 that the matter needed no further attention. 
 Those who remained entered the house and 
 proceeded to organize in the usual manner. 
 
 A " compact" was drawn up, by the terms 
 of which the regulators bound themselves to 
 each other, and to their neighbors, to ferret out 
 and punish the perpetrators of the offences, 
 which had recently disturbed the peace of the 
 settlement, and to rid the country of such vil- 
 lains as were obnoxious to the friends of law 
 and order. This was then signed by the vol- 
 lunteers as principals, and by the committee, 
 as witnesses ; and was placed in the hands of 
 the chairman of the meeting for safekeeping. 
 It is said to be still in existence, though I have 
 never seen it, and do not know where it is to be 
 found. 
 
 When this arrangement was completed, the 
 committee retired, and the company repaired 
 
THE llEGULATOK. 205 
 
 to the woods, to choose a leader. They were 
 
 not long in selecting a certain Major B , 
 
 who had, for some weeks, made himself con- 
 spicuous, by his loud denunciations of Cutler 
 and his associates, and his zealous advocacy of 
 "strong measures." They had — one or two 
 of them, at least — some misgivings about this 
 appointment; for the major was inclined to be 
 a blusterer, and. the courage of these men waa 
 eminently silent. But after a few minutes' dis- 
 cussion, the matter was decided, and the leader 
 was chosen without opposition. They at once 
 dispersed, to make arrangements for the per- 
 formance of their duties — having first appoint- 
 ed an hour and a place of meeting. They were 
 to assemble at sunset on the same day, at the 
 point where the state road now crosses the 
 "bluff;" and were to proceed thence, without 
 delay, to Cutler's house on M'Kee's creek, a 
 distance of little more than eight miles. There 
 they were to search for the stolen property, and 
 whether they found it or not, were resolved to 
 notify Cutler to leave the country. But under 
 no circumstances were they to take his life, un- 
 less it became necessary in self-defence. 
 
 Tlie hour came, and with it, to the bluff, 
 came all the regulators — save one. But tliat 
 
206 WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 
 
 one was a veiy important j^ersonage — none 
 other, indeed, than the redoubtable major, 
 who was to head the party. The nine were 
 there a considerable time before sunset, and 
 waited patiently for their captain's arrival; 
 though, already, there were whisperings from 
 those who had been doubtful of him in the 
 outset, that he would not keep his appointment. 
 And these were right — for, though they wait- 
 ed long beyond the time, the absentee did not 
 make his appearance. It was afterward ascer- 
 tained that he excused himself upon the plea 
 of sudden illness ; but he was very well again 
 on the following day, and his excuse was not 
 received. The ridicule growing out of the 
 affair, and his reduction from the rank of major 
 to that of captain, in derision, finally drove him 
 in disgrace from the country. 
 
 His defection left the little company without 
 a leader; and though they were determined 
 not to give up the enterprise, an obstacle to its 
 prosecution arose, in the fact that no one was 
 willing to replace the absent captain. Each 
 was anxious to play the part of a private, and 
 all had come prepared to discharge the duties 
 of the expedition, to the utmost of their ability. 
 But they were all young men, and no one felt 
 competent to take the responsibility of com- 
 mand. 
 
THE REGULATOR. 207 
 
 Tliey "were standing in a gronp, consnlting 
 eagerly about their course, and, as one of them 
 afterward said, ^'nearly at their wits' end," 
 when the circle was suddenly entered by an- 
 other. He had come upon them so noiselessly, 
 and they had been so much absorbed in their 
 council, that no one sa^v him until he stood in 
 their midst. Several of them, how^ever, at once 
 recognised him, as a hunter who had recentl}^ 
 aj3peared in the southern part of the county, 
 and had liv^ed a singularly solitary life. 'No 
 one knew his name, but, from his mode of 
 life, he was already known among those who 
 had heard of him, as "the wild hunter." 
 He was but little above the medium height, 
 and rather slender in figure ; but he was well 
 and firmly built, and immediately impressed 
 them w^ith the idea of great hardihood and 
 activity. His face, though bronzed by expo- 
 sure, was still handsome and exj^ressive; but 
 there was a certain wildness in the eye, and a 
 compression about the mouth, which gave it 
 the expression of fierceness, as well as resolu- 
 tion. He was dressed in a hunting-shirt and 
 "leffo-ino^s" of deerskin, frin<2:ed or "fino:ered" 
 on the edges ; and his head and feet were cov- 
 ered, the one by a cap of panther's hide, and 
 the others by moccasins of dressed buckskin. 
 
208 WESTEEN CHAKACTEE3. 
 
 At his belt hung a long knife, and in his hand 
 he carried a heavy "Kentucky rifle." 
 
 As he entered the circle, he dropped the 
 breech of the latter to the ground, and, leaning 
 calmly upon the muzzle, quietly surveyed the 
 countenances of the group, in profound silence. 
 The regulators were too much surprised to 
 speak while this was going on ; and the stran- 
 ger seemed to be in no haste to open tlie con- 
 versation. When he had finished his scrutiny, 
 however, he stepped back a pace or two, and 
 resuming his easy attitude, addiessed them : — 
 
 "You must pardon me, my friends," he 
 commenced, " when I tell you, that I have 
 overheard all you have said in the hist half 
 hour. I did not remain in that thicket, how- 
 ever, for the purpose of eaves-dropping; but 
 having accidentally heard one of you mention 
 a name, the sound of which touches a chord 
 whose vibrations you can not understand, I 
 remained, almost against my own will, to learn 
 more. I thus became acquainted with the 
 object of your m.eeting, and tlie dilemma in 
 which you find yourselves placed by the ab- 
 sence of your leader. Now, I have but little 
 interest in this settlement, and none in the pres- 
 ervation of peace, or the vindication of law, 
 anywhere : but I have been seeking this man, 
 
THE KEGULATOE. 209 
 
 Cutler, of whom you spoke, nearly nine years. 
 I supposed, a few days ago, that I had at last 
 found him ; but on going to his house, I learned 
 that he had once more emigrated toward the 
 west. You seem to know where he is to be 
 found, and are without a leader: I wish to find 
 him, and, if you will accept my services, will 
 fill the 2)lace of your absent captain !" 
 
 He turned away as he finished, allowing 
 them an opportunity for consultation among 
 themselves. The question was soon decided : 
 they called him back — announced their wil- 
 lingness to accept him as their leader — and 
 asked his name. 
 
 " My name is Stone^^ he replied. 
 
 It was after nightfall w^hen the little party 
 set out from the blufi*. They had, then, more 
 than eight miles to travel, over a country en- 
 tirely destitute of roads, and cut up by num- 
 berless sloughs and ponds. They had, more- 
 over, a considerable river to cross, and, after 
 that, several miles of their way lay through a 
 dense and pathless forest. But they were not 
 the men to shrink from difficulties, at any time ; 
 and now they were carried along even more 
 resolutely, by the stern, unwavering spirit of 
 their new leader. Having once learned the 
 
210 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 
 
 direction, Stone put himself at the head of the 
 party, and strode forward, almost " as the bird 
 flies," directly toward the point indicated, re- 
 gardless of slongh, and swamp, and thicket. 
 He moved rapidly, too — so rapidly, indeed, 
 as to tax the j)owers of some of his follovvers 
 almost too severely. IsTotwithstanding this 
 swiftness, however, they could not avoid a 
 long delay at the river; and it was conse- 
 quently near midnight, when, having at last 
 accomplished a crossing, they reached the 
 bank of M'Kee's creek, and turned up toward 
 Cutler's bouse. 
 
 This stood in the centre of a " clearing," 
 some two or three acres in extent ; and upon 
 reaching its eastern limit, the little company 
 halted to reconnoitre. Notwithstanding the 
 lateness of the hour, they discovered that the 
 people of the house were still awake ; and by 
 a bright light, which streamed through the 
 open door, they could see several men, sitting 
 and standing about the room. 
 
 " We shall make a good haul," said one of 
 the regulators ; " the whole gang is there." 
 And immediately the part3^ were for rushing 
 forward. But Stone restrained tliem. 
 
 " My friends," said he, " you have taken me 
 for your leader, and must obey my directions." 
 
THE EECa'LATOR. 211 
 
 lie tlien annoiinced his determination to o-q 
 forward alone ; instructing his men, however, 
 to follow at a little distance, but in no case to 
 show themselves until he should ffive the sip- 
 nal. Thej agreed, though reluctantly, to this 
 arrangement, and then — silently, slowly, hut 
 surely — the advance commenced. The hour 
 had at last arrived ! 
 
 In the meantime, Cutler and his three friends 
 were passing the time quite pleasantly over a 
 bottle of backwuods nectar — commonly called 
 whiskey. They seemed well pleased, too, with 
 some recent exploit of theirs, and w^ere evident- 
 ly congratulating themselves upon their dex- 
 terity ; for, as the "generous liquid" reeked 
 warmly to their brains, they chuckled over it, 
 and hinted at it, and w^inked knowingly at each 
 other, as if they enjoyed both the recollection 
 and the whiskey — as they probably did, ex- 
 ceedingly. There were four present, as we 
 said — Cutler and the three worthies so often 
 alluded to. These last sat not far from the 
 open door ; and each in his hand held a ker- 
 chief, or something of that descripticm, of 
 which the contents were apparently very pre- 
 cious ; for, at intervals of a few moments, each 
 raised his bundle between him and the light, 
 
212 WESTEEN CHAEACTEES. 
 
 and then were visible many circular prints, as 
 if made by the coinage of the mint. This idea 
 was strengthened, too, by several piles of gold 
 and silver, which lay upon the table near the 
 bottle, to which Cutler directed no infrequent 
 glances. 
 
 They had all been indulging pretty freely in 
 tlieir devotions to the mytliological liquid — 
 rewarding themselves, like soldiers after storm- 
 ing a hostile city, for their hardships and 
 daring. There were a few coals in the chim- 
 ney, although it was early in the autumn ; and 
 on them were lying dark and crumpled cinders, 
 as of paper, over which little sparks were slowly 
 creeping, like j&ery insects. Cutler turned them 
 over with his foot, and there arose a small blue, 
 flickering blaze, throwing a faint, uncertain light 
 beneath the table, and into the further corners 
 of tlie room, and casting shadows of the money- 
 bundles on the open door. 
 
 If the betrayer could have known what eyes 
 were strained upon him, as he thus carelessly 
 thrust his foot among the cinders, how changed 
 his bearing would have been. Stone had now 
 approached within fifty paces of the house, and 
 behind him, slowly creeping after, were the 
 regulators. A broad band of light streamed 
 
THE KEGULATOE. 213 
 
 out across the clearing from tlie door, while, on 
 eacli side of this, all lay in shadow deepened by 
 the contrast. Through the shadows, cautiously 
 and silently came the footsteps of the avenger! 
 TJiere was no trepidation, no haste — the strange 
 leader rather lingered, with a deadly slowness, 
 as if the movement was a pleasant one, and he 
 disliked to end it. But he never halted — not 
 even for a moment — he came, like fate, slowly, 
 but surely ! 
 
 " Come, boys," said Cutler, and his voice 
 penetrated the stillness quite across the clear- 
 ing, "let us take another drink, and then lie 
 down ; we shall have a long journey to-morrow." 
 
 They all advanced to the table and drained 
 the bottle. Cutler drank last, and then went 
 back to tlie fire. He again stirred the smoul- 
 dering cinders with his foot, and, turning 
 about, advanced to close the door. But — he 
 halted suddenly in the middle of the room — 
 his face grew ashy pale — his limbs trembled 
 with terror! Stone stepped upon the thresh- 
 hold, and, without speaking, brought his rifie 
 to his shoulder ! Cutler saw that it jDointed to 
 his heart, but he had not the power to speak or 
 move! 
 
 "Villain!" said Stone, in a low, suppressed 
 voice, "your hour has come, at last!" 
 
214: WESTERN CHARACTERS. 
 
 Cutler was by no means a coward ; by any 
 one else lie would not have been overcome, 
 even for an instant. As it was, he soon recov- 
 ered himself and sprang forward ; but it was 
 only to fall heavily to the floor; for at the 
 same moment Stone fired, and the ball passed 
 directly through his heart ! A groan was the 
 only sound he uttered — his arm moved, as in 
 the act of striking, and then fell to the ground 
 — he was dead ! 
 
 The regulators now rushed tumultuously into 
 the house, and at once seized and pinioned the 
 three desperadoes ; while Stone walked slowly 
 to the hearth, and resting the breech of his gun 
 upon the floor, leaned calmly upon its muzzle. 
 He had heard a scream from above — a voice 
 which he knew too welL Margaret had been 
 aroused from sleep by the report of the gun ; 
 and now, in her night-dress, with her hair 
 streaming in masses over her shoulders, she 
 rushed down the rude stairway. The flrst ob- 
 ject that met her wild gaze was the body of 
 Cutler, stretched upon the floor and already 
 stiffening in death. With another loud scream, 
 she threw herself upon him — mingling lament- 
 ations for his death, with curses upon his mur- 
 derers. 
 
 Stone's features worked convulsively, and 
 
THE REGULATOE. 215 
 
 once or twice bis hand grasped tlie hilt of the 
 knife which hung at his belt. At last, with a 
 start, he drew it from the sheath. But, the 
 next moment, he dashed it into the chimney, 
 and leaning bis gun against the wall, slowlj 
 adv^anced toward the unhappy woman. Grasp- 
 ing her arm, he lifted her like a child from the 
 body to which she clung. Averting his head, 
 be drew her, struggling madly, to the light; 
 and having brought her face full before the 
 lamp, suddenly threw off his cap, and turned 
 his gaze directly into her eyes. A scream, 
 louder and more fearful than any before, rang 
 even to the woods beyond the clearing ; she 
 closed her eyes and shuddered, as if she could 
 not bear to look upon him, whom she had so 
 deeply wronged. He supported her on his 
 arm, and perused her sunken and careworn 
 features, for many minutes, in silence. Then 
 slowly relaxing his grasp — 
 
 "You have been punished sufficiently," he 
 said ; and seating her gently upon the floor, he 
 quietly replaced his knife in its sheath, resumed 
 his rifle, and left the house. 
 
 He w^as never again seen by any of the par- 
 ties, except Margaret. She, soon after this 
 event, returned to Yirginia ; and here Stone 
 
216 WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 
 
 paid her an annual visit. He alwaj- & came with- 
 out notice, and departed as suddenly, always 
 bearing his rifle, and habited as a hunter. At 
 such times he sought to be alone with her but a 
 few moments, and never spoke more than three 
 words : "Your punishment continues," he would 
 say, after gazing at her worn and haggard face 
 for some minutes ; and, then, throwing his rifle 
 over his shoulder, he would again disappear for 
 twelve months more. 
 
 And truly her punishment did continue ; for 
 though no one accurately knew her history, she 
 was an object of suspicion to all ; and though 
 she led a most exemplary life, her reputation 
 was evil, and her misery was but too evident. 
 One after the other, her children died, and she 
 was left utterly alone ! At last her lamp also 
 began to flicker, and when Stone arrived in the 
 country, upon his twelfth annual visit, it was 
 but to see her die, and follow her to the grave ! 
 He received her last breath, but no one knew 
 what 2:>assed between them in that awful hour. 
 On the day after her burial he went away and 
 returned no more. 
 
 The regulators hastily dug a grave on the 
 bank of the creek, and in the silence of the 
 night placed Cutler within it. Then, taking 
 
THE KEGULATOR. 217 
 
 possession of the stolen money, tliey released 
 their prisoners, notifying them to leave the 
 country within ten days, and returned to the 
 east side of the river. A few years ago, a little 
 mound might be seen, where they had heaped 
 the dirt upon the unhappy victim of his own 
 passions. It was " the first grave^^ in which a 
 white man was buried in that part of the Illinois 
 valley. 
 
 At the expiration of the ten " days of grace," 
 it became the duty of the regulators to see that 
 their orders had been obeyed ; and, though the 
 death of Cutler had been more than they had 
 designed or foreseen, they had no disposition to 
 neglect it. They met, accordingly, on the morn- 
 ing of the eleventh day, and having chos.en a 
 new leader, proceeded to Cutler's grove. They 
 found the houses of all those to whom they had 
 given "notice" deserted excepting one. This 
 was the cabin of the youngest of the three 
 brothers ; and declaring his intention to remain, 
 in defiance of regulators and " Lynch law," he 
 put himself upon his defence. Without cere- 
 mony the regulators set fire to, the house in 
 which he had barricaded himself, and ten 
 minutes sufficed to smoke him out. They then 
 discovered what they had not before known: 
 10 
 
218 WESTERN" ClIAKACTERS. 
 
 tliat liis elder brothers were also within ; and 
 when the three rushed from the door, though 
 taken by surprise, they were not thrown off 
 their guard. The trio were at once seized, and, 
 after a sharp struggle, securely pinioned. A 
 short consultation tlien decided their course. 
 
 Leaving the house to burn at leisure, they 
 posted away for the river, driving their prisoners 
 before them, and a march of tliree hours brought 
 them to the mouth of the Mauvaisterre. Here 
 they constructed a " raft," by tying half-a-dozen 
 drift-logs together, and warning them that death 
 would be the penalty of a return, they placed 
 their prisoners upon it, pushed it into the middle 
 of the stream, and set them adrift without oar 
 or pole ! Although this seems quite severe 
 enough, it was a light punishment compared to 
 that sometimes administered by regulators ;. and 
 in this case, had not blood been spilt when they 
 did not intend it, it is probable that the culprits 
 would have been first tied to a tree, and 
 thoroughly '' lynched." 
 
 The involuntary navigators were not rescued 
 from their unpleasant position until they had 
 nearly reached Saint Louis; and though they 
 all swore vengeance in a loud voice, not one of 
 them was ever again seen in the Sangamon 
 country. 
 
THE REGULATOR. 219 
 
 Vigorous measures, like those we have de- 
 tailed, were usually eflectual in restoring good 
 order. Where there was no trial, there was no 
 room for false witnesses ; and where a punish- 
 ment, not unfrequently disproportioned to the 
 offence, so rapidly and certainly followed its 
 commission, there was little prospect of im- 
 punity, and therefore slight inducement to 
 violate the law. In most localities, it required 
 but few severe lessons to teach desperadoes that 
 prudence dictated their emigration ; and, it must 
 he acknowledged, that the regulators were 
 prompt and able teachers. 
 
 Bat we sho.uld give only a partial and incom- 
 plete view of this institution (for such, in fact, 
 it was), were we to notice its uses and say 
 nothing of its abuse; because, like everything 
 else partaking so largely of the mob element, it 
 was liable to most mischievous perversions. 
 Had the engine been suffered to rest, when it 
 had performed its legitimate functions, all would 
 have been well ; but the great vice of the sys- 
 tem was its obstinate vitality : it refused to die 
 when its life was no longer useful. 
 
 As soon as the danger was past, and the call 
 for his services had ceased, the good citizen, 
 who alone could confine sucli a system to its 
 proper limits, retired from its ranks : it was cou- 
 
220 WESTERN CHAEACTEKS. 
 
 sequently left, with all ifs dangerous authority, 
 in the hands of the reckless and violent. The 
 selfish and designing soon filled up the places 
 of the sober and honest, and from being a terror 
 to evil-doers, and a protection to the peaceful 
 citizen, it became a weapon in the hands of the 
 very men against whom it should have been 
 directed. 
 
 When this came to be the case, the institution 
 was in danger of doing more harm in its age, 
 than it had accomplished of good in its youth. 
 But it must not thence be inferred that it 
 should never have been adopted, or that it was 
 vicious in itself. In seasons of public danger, 
 extraordinary powers are often intrusted to 
 individuals — powers which nothing but that 
 danger can justify, and which would constitute 
 the dictators intolerable despots, if they were 
 retained after the crises are passed. The Con- 
 gress of our confederacy, for example, found it 
 necessary, at one period of our Revolutionary 
 struggle, to invest Washington with such 
 authority ; had he exercised it beyond tlie 
 pressure of immediate peril, the same outcry 
 which has been made against others in similar 
 circumstances, w^ould have been justly raised 
 against him. And most men, less soberly con- 
 stituted than "Washington, would have en- 
 
THE REGULATOR. 221 
 
 deavored to retain it ; for power is a pleasant 
 thing, which few have tlie self-denial to resign 
 withont a struggle. The wrong consists not in 
 the original delegation of the authority — for 
 that is justified by the highest of all laws, the 
 law of self-preservation — but in its retention 
 and exercise, when the exigency no longer sup- 
 ports it. 
 
 Having parted with the authority to redress 
 grievances, and provide for protection and de- 
 fence, the citizen can not at once recover it — 
 it remains for a time in the hands of the repre- 
 sentative, and is always difficult to regain. But 
 it does not therefore follow, that he should 
 never intrust it to anotlier, for the inconveni- 
 ence sometimes resulting from its delegation, is 
 one of the incidents to human life, teaching, not 
 obstinacy or jealousy, but circumspection. 
 
 Tlie following story, related by one who is 
 well-acr|uainted witli the early history of this 
 countr}^, will illustrate the manner in which the 
 regulator system was sometimes made subser- 
 vient to men's selfish purposes ; and there have, 
 unhappily, been too many instances, in which 
 such criminal schemes were more successful 
 than they were in this. I have entitled it 
 "The Stratagem." 
 
222 WESTERN CHARACTEES. 
 
 THE STRATAGEM. 
 
 Egbert Elwood emigrated from Kentucky to 
 Illinois, about the year in wliicli the latter was 
 erected into a state, and passing to the north- 
 west of the regions then occupied by the French 
 and Yirginians, pitched his tent upon the very 
 vero^e of the frontier. He was a man of violent 
 passions, impatient of the restraints of law — • 
 arrogant, overbearing, and inclined to the use 
 of " the strong-hand." His removal had been 
 caused by a difficulty with one of his neighbors, 
 in which he had attempted to right himself 
 without an appeal to the legal tribunals. In 
 this attempt, he had not only been thwarted, 
 but also made to pay rather roundly for his 
 temerity ; and, vexed and soured, he had at 
 once abandoned his old name, and marched off 
 across the prairies, seeking a country in which, 
 as he said, " a man need not meet a cursed con- 
 stable every time he left his own door." His 
 family consisted of three sons and one daughter, 
 the latter being, at the time of his emigration, 
 about sixteen years of age. 
 
 In journeying toward the north, ho halted 
 one day, at noon, within a " point" of timber, 
 
THE REGULATOR. 223 
 
 wliicli extended a mile into tlie prairie, and 
 was surrounded by as beautiful a piece of rol- 
 ling meadow-land, as one need wish to see. lie 
 was already lialf-a-daj's journey beyond tlie 
 thicker settlements ; and, indulging a reason- 
 able hope that he would not speedily be an- 
 noyed by neighbors, he at once determined 
 here to erect his dwelling and open a new 
 farm. With this view, he marked oif a tract 
 of about four hundred acres, including the 
 point of timber in which he was encamped ; 
 and before the heats of summer cauie on, he 
 had a cabin ready for his recej^tion, and a con- 
 siderable amount of grain planted. 
 
 About a mile to the south, th6re was a simi- 
 lar strip of timber, surrounded, like that of 
 w^hicli he took possession, by a rich tract of 
 "rolling prairie;" and this he at once resolved 
 to include in his farm. But, reflecting that it 
 must probably be some years, before any one 
 else would enter the neighborhood to take it 
 lip — and having only the assistance of his 
 eons, but two of whom had reached manhood 
 — he turned his attention, first, to the tract 
 npon which he lived. This was large enough 
 to engross his efforts for the present ; and, for 
 two years, he neglected to do anything toward 
 establishing his claim to the land he coveted. 
 
224 WESTERN CHAKACTEES. 
 
 It is true, that he told several of his neighbors, 
 Avho had now begun to settle around him, that 
 lie claimed that piece, and thus prevented their 
 enclosing it; but he neither "blazed" nor 
 marked the trees, nor "staked off" the prairie. 
 
 In the meantime emigration had come in, so 
 much more rapidly than he had expected, that 
 he found himself the centre of a populous 
 neighborhood ; and among other signs of ad- 
 vancing civilization, a company of regulators 
 had been organized, for the protection of life 
 and property. Of this band, Elwood, always 
 active and forward, had been chosen leader; 
 and the vigor and severity with which he had 
 exercised liis functions, had given a degree of 
 quiet to the settlements, not usually enjoyed 
 by these frontier communities. One example 
 had, at the period of the opening of our story, 
 but recently been made ; and its extreme rigor 
 had frightened away from the neighborhood, 
 those who had hitherto disturbed its peace. 
 This was all the citizens desired ; and, having 
 accomplished their ends, safety and tranquillity, 
 those whose conservative character had pre- 
 vented the regulator system from running into 
 excesses, withdrew from its ranks — but took 
 no measures to have it broken up. It was thus 
 
THE REGULATOR. 225 
 
 left, witli recognised authority, in tlie hands of 
 Elwood, and others of his violent and unscru- 
 pulous character. 
 
 Things were in this position, when, on his 
 return from an expedition of some length, El- 
 wood bethought him of the handsome tract of 
 land, upon which he had so long ago set his 
 heart. What were his surprise and rage on 
 learning^ — a fact, which the absorbing nature 
 of his regulator-duties had prevented his know- 
 ing sooner — that it was already in possession 
 of another ! And his mortification was im- 
 measurably increased, when he was told, that 
 the man who had thus intruded upon what he 
 considered his own proper demesne, was none 
 other than young Grayson, the son of his old 
 Kentucky enemy ! Coming into the neighbor- 
 hood, in the absence of Elwood, the young 
 man, finding so desirable a tract vacant, had at 
 once taken possession ; and by the re'airn of 
 the regulator had almost finished a neat and 
 " roomy" cabin. He had " blazed" the trees, 
 too, and "staked off" the prairie — taking all 
 those steps then deemed necessary, on the fron- 
 tier, to complete approi)riation. 
 
 Elwood's first step was to order him peremp- 
 torily, to desist, and give up his "improve- 
 ment" — threatening him, at the same time, 
 10* 
 
226 WESTEEN CIIAEACTEES. 
 
 with certain and nncertain pains and penalties, 
 If lie refused to obey. But Grayson only laugh- 
 ed at his threats, and went stoutly on with his 
 work. When the young men, whom he had 
 hired to assist him in building his house, gave 
 him a friendly warning, that Elwood was the 
 leader of a band of regulators, and had power 
 to make good his menaces, he only replied that 
 " he knew how to protect himself, and, when 
 the time came, should not be found wanting?" 
 Elwood retired from the contest, discomfited, 
 but breathing vengeance ; while Grayson fin- 
 ished his house and commenced operations on 
 his farm. But those who knew the headlong 
 violence of Elwood's character, predicted that 
 these operations w^ould soon be interrupted; 
 and they were filled with wonder, when month 
 after month passed away, and there were still 
 no signs of a collision. 
 
 In the meantime, it came to be rumored in 
 the settlement, that there was some secret con- 
 nection between Grayson and Elwood's daugh- 
 ter, Hannah. They had been seen by several 
 persons in close conversation, at times and 
 places which indicated a desire for conceal- 
 ment ; and one person even went so far as to say, 
 that he had been observed to kiss her, on part- 
 
THE REGULATOR. 227 
 
 ing, late in tlie evening. "Wliatever may have 
 been the truth in tliat matter, it is, at all events, 
 certain, that Grayson was an nnmarried man ; 
 and that the quarrel between the parents of the 
 pair in Kentucky, had broken up an intimacy, 
 which bade fair to issue in a marriage ; and it 
 is probable, that a subordinate if not a primary, 
 motive, inducing him to take possession of the 
 disputed land, was a desire to be near Hannah. 
 !N^or was this wish without its appropriate justi- 
 fication ; for, though not strictly beautiful, 
 Hannah was quite pretty, and — what is better 
 in a frontier girl — active, fresh, and rosy. At 
 the time of Grayson's arrival in the settlement, 
 she w^as a few months past eighteen ; and was 
 as fine material for a border wife, as could be 
 found in the new state. The former intimacy 
 was soon renewed, and before the end of two 
 months, it was agreed that they should be 
 married, as soon as lier father's consent could 
 be obtained. 
 
 But this was not so easily compassed ; for, 
 all this time, Elwood had been brooding over 
 his defeat, and devising ways and means of 
 recovering the much-coveted land. 
 
 At length, after many consultations with a 
 fellow named Driscol, who acted as his lieuten- 
 ant in the r^^gulator company, lie acceded to a 
 
228 WESTERN CHARACTEKS. 
 
 proposition, made long before by that worthy, 
 but rejected by El wood on account of its dis- 
 honesty. He only adopted the plan, now, be- 
 cause it was apparently the only escape from 
 permanent defeat ; and long chafing under 
 what he considered a grievous wrong, had 
 made him reckless of means, and determined 
 on success, at whatever cost. 
 
 One morning, about a week after the taking 
 of this resolution, it was announced that one of 
 El wood's horses had been stolen, on the night 
 before ; and the regulators were straightway 
 assembled, to ferret out and punish so daring 
 an offender. It happened (accidently, of 
 course) to be a horse which had cast one of its 
 shoes, only the day before ; and tliis circum- 
 stance rendered it easy to discover his trail. 
 Driscol, Elwood's invaluable lieutenant, dis- 
 covered the track and set off upon it, almost as 
 easily as if he had been present when it was 
 made. He led the party away into the prairie 
 toward the east; and though his companions 
 declared that they could now see nothing of 
 the trail, the sharp-sighted lieutenant swore 
 that it was "as plain as the nose on his face" 
 • — truly, a somewhat exaggerated expression: 
 for the color, if not the size, of that feature in 
 
THE EEGULATOE. 229 
 
 Ills countenance, made it altogether too appa- 
 rent to be overlooked! Tliej followed him, 
 however, convinced bj the earnestness of his 
 asseverations, if not by their own eyes, until, 
 after going a mile toward the east, he began 
 gradually to verge southward, and, having 
 wound about at random for some time, finally 
 took a direct course, for the point of timber on 
 which Grayson lived ! 
 
 On arriving at the point, which terminated, 
 as usual, in a dense hazel-thicket, Driscol at 
 once pushed his way into the covert, and lo ! 
 there stood the stolen horse ! He was tied to a 
 sapling by a halter, wliich was clearly recognised 
 as the property of Grayson, and leading oif 
 toward the latter's house, was traced a man's 
 footstep — his^ of course! Tliese appearances 
 fully explained the theft, and there was not a 
 man present, who did not express a decided 
 conviction that Grayson w^as the thief. 
 
 Some one remarked that his boldness was 
 greater than his shr..wdness, else he would not 
 have kept the horse so near. But Driscol de- 
 clared, dogmatically, that this was "the smartest 
 thing in the whole business," since, if the trail 
 could be obliterated, no one would think of 
 looking there for a horse stolen only a mile 
 above ! " The calculation" was a good one, lie 
 
230 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 
 
 said, and it only failed of success because he- 
 Driscol, happened to have a remarkably sharp 
 sight for all tracks, both of horses and men. To 
 this proposition, supported by ocular evidence, 
 the regulators assented, and Driscol stock, pre- 
 viously somewhat depressed by sundry good 
 causes, forthwith rose in the regulator market to 
 a respectable premium ! 
 
 Having recovered the stolen property, the 
 next question which presented itself for their 
 consideration, was in what way they should 
 punish the thief. To such men as they, this 
 was not a difficult problem : without much de- 
 liberation, it was determined that he must be at 
 once driven from the country. The " days of 
 grace," usually given on such occasions, were 
 ten, and in pursuance of this custom, it was 
 resolved that Grayson should be mercifully 
 allowed that length of time, in which to arrange 
 his affairs and set out for a new home : or, as 
 the regulators expressed it, " make himself 
 scarce." Driscol, having already, by his praise- 
 worthy efforts in the cause of right, made him- 
 self the hero of the affair, was invested with 
 authority to notifj^ Grayson of this decree. The 
 matter being thus settled, tlie corps adjourned 
 to meet again ten days thereafter, in order to see 
 that their judgment was duly carried into effect. 
 
THE EEGULATOE. 231 
 
 Meantime, Driscol, the official mouthpiece 
 of the self-constituted court of general jurisdic- 
 tion, rode away to discharge himself of his 
 onerous duties. Halting at the low fence which 
 enclosed the scant}^ door-yard he gave the cus- 
 tomary " Halloo ! the house !" and patiently 
 awaited an answer. It was not long, however, 
 before Grayson issued from the door and ad- 
 vanced to the fence, when Driscol served the 
 process of the court hi hcec verba: — 
 
 "" Mr. Grayson, the regulators of this settle- 
 ment have directed me to give you ten days' 
 notice to leave the country. They will meet 
 again one week from next Friday, and if you 
 are not gone by that time, it will become their 
 duty to punish you in the customary way." 
 
 " What for ?" asked Grayson, quietly. 
 
 " For stealing this horse," the functionary 
 replied, laying his hand on the horse's mane, 
 " and concealing him in the timber with the in- 
 tention to run him off." 
 
 '' It's Elwood's horse, isn't it ?" 
 
 " Yes," answered Driscol, somewhat surprised 
 at Grayson's coolness. 
 
 " When was he stolen ?" asked the notified. 
 
 " Last night," answered the official ; " I sup- 
 pose you know very well without being told." 
 
 "Do you, indeed?" said Grayson, smiling 
 
232 WESTEEN CHAKACTEES. 
 
 absentlj. And then he bent his ejes upon the 
 ground, and seemed lost in thought for some 
 minutes. 
 
 " Well, well," said he at length, raising his 
 eyes again. " I did n't steal the horse, Driscol, 
 but I suppose you regulators know best who 
 ought to be allowed to remain in the settlement, 
 so of course I shall have to obey." 
 
 " I am glad to find you so reasonable," said 
 Driscol, making a movement to ride away. 
 
 " Stop ! stop !" said Grayson : " don't be in a 
 hurry! I shall be gone before the ten clays are 
 up, and you and I may not meet again for a 
 long time, so get down and come in : let us take 
 a parting drink together. I have some excellent 
 whiskey, just brought home." 
 
 Now, the worthy functionary, as we have in- 
 timated, or as the aforesaid nose bore witness, 
 was " quite partial" to this description of prod- 
 uce : some of his acquaintances even insinuating 
 that he took sometimes " a drop too much ;" and 
 though he felt some misgiving about remaining 
 in Grayson's company longer than his official 
 duties required, the temptation was too strong 
 for him, and, silencing his fears, he sprang to 
 the ground. 
 
 "Tie your horse to the fence, there,." said 
 Grayson, "and come in." Driscol obeyed, and 
 
THE KEGULATOR. 233 
 
 it was not long before lie was seated in tlie 
 cabin with a tin-cup in his hand, and its gener- 
 ous contents finding their way rapidly down his 
 capacious throat. 
 
 ""Whiskey is a pleasant drink, after all, isn't 
 it ?" said Grayson, suiiling at the gusto with 
 which Driscol dwelt upon the draught, and at 
 the same moment he rose to set his cup on the 
 table behind the official. 
 
 '' Very pleasant indeed," said Driscol, in 
 repl}^, and to prove his sincerity, he raised his 
 cup again to his lips. But this time he was not 
 destined to taste its contents. It was suddenly 
 dashed from his hand — a saddle-girth was 
 thrown over his arms and body — and before he 
 was aware of what was being done, he found 
 himself securely pinioned to the chair ! A rope 
 was speedily passed round his legs, and tied, in 
 like manner, behind, so that he could, literally, 
 move neither hand nor foot ! He made a furious 
 effort to break away, but he would not have 
 been more secure had he been in the old- 
 fashioned stocks ! He was fairly entrapped, and 
 though he foamed, and swore, and threatened, 
 it all did no majiner of good. Of this he at 
 length became sensible, and grinding his teeth 
 in impotent rage, he relapsed into dogged silence. 
 
 Having thoroughly secured his prisoner, 
 
234 WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 
 
 Grayson, who was something of a wag, poured 
 out a small quantity of tlie seductive liquor, and 
 coming round in front of the ill-used official, 
 smiled graciously in his face, and drank " a 
 health" — 
 
 " Success to you, Mr. Driscol," said he, " and 
 long may you continue an ornament to the dis- 
 tinguislied company of which you are an honored 
 officer!" 
 
 Driscol ground his teeth, but made no reply, 
 and the toast was drunk, like some of those im- 
 pressive sentiments given at public dinners, " in 
 profound silence !" 
 
 Having drained the cup, Grayson deposited 
 it upon the table and himself in a chair ; and, 
 drawing the latter up toward his companion, 
 opened the conference thus : — 
 
 " I think I have you pretty ^afe, Diiscol : eh !" 
 
 The lieutenant made no reply. 
 
 " I see you are not in a very sociable humor," 
 continued Grayson ; " and, to tell you the truth, 
 I am not much that way inclined myself: but I 
 am determined to get to the bottom of this 
 affair before you shall leave the house. I am 
 sure you know all about it; and if you don't, 
 why the worse for you, that's all." 
 
 ''What do you mean?" demanded Driscol, 
 speaking for the first time. 
 
THE REGULATOR. 235 
 
 *' I mean this," Grayson answered sternly : 
 "I did not take that liorse from Elwood's — hut 
 you did : I saw yon do it. Ent since my testi- 
 mony will not be received, I am determined that 
 yon shall give me a certificate in waiting that 
 snch is the fact. You need n't look so obstinate, 
 for by the God that made us both ! you shall not 
 leave that chair alive, unless you do as I say !" 
 
 Grayson was a large, rather fleshy man, with 
 a light complexion and bine eyes ; and, though 
 good-natured and hard to arouse, when once in 
 earnest, as now, like all men of his stamp, he 
 both looked, and was, fully capable of carrying 
 his menaces into execution. The imprisoned 
 functionary did not at all like the expression of 
 his eye, he quailed before it in fear and shame. 
 He w^as, however, resolved not to yield, except 
 upon the greatest extremity. 
 
 " Come," said Grayson, producing materials 
 fur writing; "here are pen, ink, and paper: 
 are you willing to write as I dictate ?" 
 
 " ^o," said Driscol, doggedly. 
 
 "We'll see if I can't make you willing, 
 then," muttered his captor ; and, going to the 
 other end of the cabin, lie took down a coil of 
 rope, Avhich hung u})on a ])eg, and returned to 
 his captive. Forming a noose at one end, he 
 placed it about Driscol's neck, and threw the 
 
236 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 
 
 other end over a beam wliicli supported the 
 roof. 
 
 " Are you going to murder me ?'* demanded 
 the official in ahirm. 
 
 "Yes,'' answered Grayson, drawing the kiose 
 end down, and tightening the noose about Dris- 
 col's throat. 
 
 " You'll suffer for this," said the lieutenant 
 furiousl}^ 
 
 "That won't he\p you much," coolly replied 
 Grayson, tugging at the rope, until one leg of 
 the chair gave signs of rising fi-om the floor, 
 and Drisc'l's face exhibited unmistakable symp- 
 toms of incipient strangulation. 
 
 " Stop ! stop !" he exclaimed, in a voice re- 
 duced to a mere wheeze — and Grayson " eased 
 off" to hear him. 
 
 " Won't anything else satisfy you but a writ- 
 ten certificate ?" he asked — speaking with dif- 
 ficulty, and making motions as if endeavoring 
 to swallow something too large to pass the gate 
 of his throat. 
 
 "Nothing but that," answered Grayson, de- 
 cidedly ; " and if you don't give it to me, when 
 your regulator friends arrive, instead of me, 
 they will find you, swinging from this beam by 
 the neck !" And, seeing his victim hesitate, he 
 again tugged at the rope, until the same signs 
 
THE REGULATOR. ^ 237 
 
 were exhibited as before — onl}^ a little more 
 a^jpareiitly. 
 
 " Ho — hold, Grayson !" begged the fright- 
 ened and strangling lieutenant; and, as his ex- 
 ecutioner again relaxed a little, he continued : 
 "Just let nie up, and I'll do anything you 
 want." 
 
 " That is to say," laughed Grayson, '' you 
 would rather take the chances of a fight, than 
 be hung up like a sheep-stealing dog ! Let you 
 up, indeed !" And once more he dragged the 
 rope down more vigorously than ever. 
 
 "I — didn't — mean that — indeed!" gulped 
 the unhappy official, this time almost strangled 
 in earnest. 
 
 "What did you mean then?" sternly de- 
 manded Grayson, relaxing a little once again. 
 
 "I will write the certificate," moaned the 
 unfortunate lieutenant, " if you will let one arm 
 loose, and won't tell anybody until the ten days 
 are out — " 
 
 " Wliy do you wish it kept secret !" 
 
 " If I give such a certificate as you demand," 
 mournfully answered the disconsolate officer, 
 "I shall have to leave the country — and I 
 want time to get away." 
 
 " Oh ! that's it, is it? Well— very well." 
 
 About an hour after this, Driscol issued from 
 
238 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 
 
 tlie house, and, springing npon the horse, rode 
 away at a gallop toward Elwood's. Here he 
 left the animal, but declined to enter ; telling 
 Hannah, who happened to be in the yard, to 
 say to her father that "it was all right," he 
 pusbad on toward home — tenderly rubbing 
 his throat, first with the right hand and then 
 with the left, all the way. Three days after- 
 ward, he disappeared from the settlement, and 
 was heard of no more. 
 
 Grayson waited until near nightfall, and 
 then took his way, as usual, to a little chimp 
 of trees, that stood near Elwood's enclosures, 
 to meet Hannah. Here he stayed more than 
 an liour, detailing the circumstances of the ac- 
 cusation against him, and laughing with her, 
 over the ridiculous figure cut by her father's 
 respectable lieutenant. Before they parted 
 their plans were all arranged, and Grayson went 
 home in excellent humor. "What these plans 
 were, will be seen in the sequel. 
 
 Eight days went by without any event im- 
 portant to our story — Hannah and Grayson 
 meeting each evening, in the grove, and parting 
 again undiscovered. On tlie ninth day, the 
 former went to the liouse of a neighbor, where 
 it was understood that she was to remain dur- 
 
THE REGULATOR. 239 
 
 iiig tlie niglit, and return lionie on the follow- 
 ing morning. Grayson remained on Lis farm 
 until near sunset, when he mounted his horse 
 and rode away. This was the last of his " days 
 of grace ;" and those who saw him passing 
 along the road, concluded that he had yielded 
 to the dictates of prudence, and was leaving 
 the field. 
 
 On the following morning, the regulators as- 
 sembled to see that their orders had been 
 obeyed ; and, though Elwood was a little dis- 
 concerted by the absence of Driscol, since it 
 was understood that Grayson had left the 
 country, the meeting was considered only a 
 formal one, and the presence of the worthy lieu- 
 tenant was not indispensable. They proceeded 
 in high spirits to the premises, expecting to 
 find the house deserted and waiting for an oc- 
 cupant. Elwood was to take immediate pos- 
 session, and, all the way across the prairie, was 
 felicitating himself upon the ease and rapidity 
 of his triumph. What was their surprise, then, 
 on approaching the house, to see smoke issuing 
 from the chimney, as usual — tlie door thrown 
 wide open, and Grayson standing quietly in 
 front of it ! Tlie party halted and a council 
 was called, but its deliberations were by no 
 means tedious: it was forthwith determined, 
 
24:0 WESTERN CnAKACTEES. 
 
 that Grajson stood in defiance of the law^ and 
 must be punished — that is, "lynched" — with- 
 out delay ! The object of this fierce decree, all 
 unarmed as he was, still stood near the door, 
 while the company slowly approached the fence. 
 He then advanced and addressed them : — 
 
 " I think the ten days are not up yet, gen- 
 tlemen," said he mildly. 
 
 " Yes, they are," answered Elwood quickly ; 
 "and we are here to know whether you intend 
 to obey the authorities, and leave the country ?" 
 
 " I think, Elwood," said the young man, not 
 directly replying, " this matter can be settled 
 between you me, without bloodshed, and even 
 without trouble. If you will come in with 
 George and John [his sons], I w^ill introduce 
 you to my wife, and we can talk it over, with 
 a glass of whiske3^" 
 
 Another consultation ensued, when, in order 
 to prove their dignified moderation, they agreed 
 that Elwood and his sons should "go in and see 
 what he had to say." 
 
 Elwood, the elder, entered first : directly be- 
 fore him, holding her sides and shaking with 
 laughter, stood his rosy daughter, Hannah ! 
 
 " My wife^ gentlemen," said Grayson, grave- 
 ly introducing them. Hannah's laughter ex- 
 ploded. 
 
THE KEGULATOR. 241 
 
 " O, fatlier, father, father !" she exclaimeh, 
 leaning forward and extending her hands ; 
 "aVt you caught, beautifully!" 
 
 The laugh was contagious ; and though the 
 elder knit his brows, and was evidently on the 
 point of bursting with very different emotions, 
 his sons yielded to its influence, and, joining 
 Hannah and her husband, laughed loudly, peal 
 after peal ! 
 
 The father could bear it no longer — he seized 
 Hannah by the arm and shook her violently, till 
 she restrained herself sufficiently to speak ; as 
 for him, he was speechless with rage. 
 
 " It's entirely too late to make a ' fuss,' father," 
 she said at length '-for here is the marriage- 
 certificate, and Grayson is your son !" 
 
 " I have not stolen your horse, Elwood," said 
 the bridegroom, taking the paper which the 
 father rejected, " though I have run away with 
 your daughter. And," he added, significantly, 
 " since if you had this land, you would probably 
 give it to Hannah, I think you and I had better 
 be friends, and I'll take it as her marriage- 
 portion." 
 
 " If you can show that you did not take the 
 horse, Grayson," said George, the elder of the 
 two sons, "I'll answer for that: but " 
 
 "That I can do very easily," interrupted the 
 11 
 
242 WESTERN CIIAKACTEKS. 
 
 young liusband, "I have the proof in my 
 pocket." 
 
 He caught Elwood's eye as he spoke, and re- 
 assured him with a look, for he could see that 
 the old man began to apprehend an exposure in 
 the presence of his sons. This forbearance did 
 more to reconcile him to his discomfiture than 
 aught else, save the influence of George ; for, 
 like all passionate men, he was easily swayed 
 by his cooler children. While Hannah and her 
 brothers examined the marriage certificate, and 
 laughed over " the stratagem," Grayson drew 
 Elwood aside and exhibited a paper, written in 
 a cramped, uneven hand, as follows : — 
 
 " This is to certify, that it was not Josiah 
 Grayson who took Kobert Elwood's horse from 
 his stable, last night — but I took him myself, 
 by arrangement, so as to accuse Grayson of the 
 theft, and drive him to leave his new farm. 
 
 " Thomas Dkiscol." 
 
 Elwood blushed as he came to the words " by 
 arrangement," but read on witliout speaking. 
 Grayson then related the manner in which he 
 had entrapped the lieutenant, and the joke soon 
 put him in a good humor. The regulators were 
 called in, and heard the explanation, and all 
 laughing heartily over the capture of Driscol, 
 they insisted that Hannah and her husband 
 
TUE REGULATOR. 243 
 
 should mount, and ride with them to Ehvood's. 
 Neither ot* them needed mucli persuasion — the 
 whole party rode away together — the "lads 
 and lasses" of the neighborhood were sum- 
 moned, and the day and night were spent in 
 merriment and dancing. 
 
 Grayson and his wife returned on the follow- 
 ing morning to their new home, where a life of 
 steady and honorable industry, was rewarded 
 with affluence and content. Their descendants 
 still live upon the place, one of the most beau- 
 tiful and extensive farms upon that fertile 
 prairie. But on the spot where the disputed 
 cabin stood, has since been built a handsome 
 brick-house, and I pay only a just tribute to 
 amiable character, when I say that a more hos- 
 pitable mansion is not to be found in the western 
 country. 
 
 This was the last attempt at " regulating" in 
 that region, for emigration came in so rapidly, 
 that the supremacy of the law was soon asserted 
 and maintained. Whenever this came to be so, 
 the regulators, of course, ceased to be types of 
 the state of society, and were succeeded by 
 other characters and institutions. 
 
 To these we must now proceed. 
 
24:4: WESTERN CHAKAOTEES. 
 
 [Note. — The following is a copy of a compact, such as is 
 spoken of in the story of the " The Fh'st Grave," entered into 
 by a company of regulators in somewhat similar circumstances. 
 I am not sure that I can vouch for its authenticity, but all who 
 are familiar with the history of those times, will recognise, ia 
 its peculiarities, the characteristics of the people who then in- 
 habited this country. The affectation of legal form in such a 
 document as this, would be rather amusing, were it not quite 
 too significant ; at all events, it is entirely " in keeping" with 
 the constitution of a race who had some regard for law and its 
 vindicati on, even in their most high-handed acts. The technical 
 phraseology, used so strangely, is easily traceable to the little 
 "Justice's Form Book," which was then almost the only law 
 document in the country ; and though the words are rather 
 awkwardly combined, they no doubt gave solemnity to the act 
 in the eyes of its sturdy signers : — 
 
 " Know all men hy these presents : 
 
 " That we [Aere follow twelve names\ citizens of • 
 
 settlement, in the state of Illinois, have this day, jointly and 
 severally^ bound ourselves together as a company of Rangers 
 and Regulators, to protect this settlement against the crimes 
 and misdemeanors of, all and singular, every person or persons 
 whomsoever, and especially against all horse-thieves, renegades, 
 and robbers. And we do by these presents, hereby bind our- 
 selves, jointly and severally as aforesaid, unto each other, and 
 to the fellow-citizens of this settlement, to punish, according to 
 the code of his honor. Judge Lynch, all violations of the law, 
 against the peace and dignity of the said people of ■ 
 
 settlement ; and to discover and bring to speedy punishment, 
 all illegal combinations — to rid the country of such as are 
 dangerous to the welfare of this settlement — to preserve the 
 peace, and generally to vindicate the law, within the settlement 
 aforesaid. All of which purposes we are to accomplish as 
 
THE REGULATOR. 245 
 
 peaceably as possible : hut we are to accomplish them one way 
 or another. 
 
 " In testimony whereof, we have hereunto set our hands and 
 affixed our seals, this twelfUi day of October, Anno Doynini, 
 eighteen liundred and twenty. 
 
 (Signed by twelve men.) 
 " Acknowledged and subscribed in the presence of 
 
 "C T. H n, 
 
 "J P. D n," 
 
 and five others, who seem to have been a portion of " the fellow- 
 citizens of this settlement," referred to in the document.] 
 
VI. 
 
 THE JUSTICE OF THE PEACE. 
 
 " I beseech you, 
 Wrest once the law to your authority : 
 To do a great right, do a little v/rong," — 
 
 Merchant of Venice. 
 
 The reign of violence, when an evil at all, is 
 an evil whicli remedies itself: the severity of 
 its proceeding hastens the accomplishment 
 of its ends, as the hottest fire soonest consumes 
 its fuel. A nation will endure oppression more 
 patiently immediately after a spasmodic re- 
 bellion or a bloody revolution, than at any other 
 time ; and a community requires less law to 
 govern it, after a violent and illegal assertion of 
 the law's supremacy, than was necessary before 
 the outbreak. After having thrown off the 
 yoke of a knave — and perhaps hung the knave 
 up by the neck, or chopped his head off with 
 an axe — mankind not unfrequently fall under 
 the control of a fool ; frightened at their temerity 
 in dethroning an idol of metal, they bow down 
 before a paltry statue of wood. 
 
THE JUSTICE OF THE PEACE. 247 
 
 Men are not easily satiated with power, bnt 
 wlien it is irregular, a pause in its exercise must 
 eventually come. And there is a principle of 
 human nature, which teaches, that whatsoever 
 partakes of the mob-spirit is, at best, but tem- 
 porary, and ought to have a speedy end. This 
 is especially true of such men as first perma- 
 nently peopled the western country ; for though 
 they sometimes committed high-handed and 
 unjustifiable acts, the moment it was discovered 
 that they had accomplished the purposes of 
 order, they allowed the means of vindication to 
 fall into disuse. The regulator system, for ex- 
 ample, was directed to the stern and thorough 
 punishment of evil men, but no sooner was 
 society freed from their depredations, than the 
 well-meaning citizens withdrew from its ranks ; 
 and, though regulator companies still patroled 
 the country, and, for a time, assumed as much 
 authority as ever, they were not supported by 
 the solid approbation of those who alone could 
 give them lasting strength. They did many 
 outrageous things for which they were never 
 punished, and for some years, the shield which 
 the good citizen had raised above his head for 
 protection and defence, threatened to fall upon 
 and crush him. But the western people are not 
 *Jie first who have been temporarily enslaved 
 
248 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 
 
 bj their liberators, tbongh, unlike many another 
 race, thej waited patiently for the changes of 
 years, and tin.e brought them a remedy. 
 
 As the government waxed stronger, and 
 public opinion assumed a direction, the regula- 
 tors, like their predecessors, the rangers, found 
 their " occupation gone," and gradually faded 
 out from the land. Proclamations were issued 
 — leorislatures met — laws we-e enacted, and 
 officers appointed to execute them ; and though 
 forcing a legal system upon a people who had 
 so long been " a law unto themselves," was a 
 slow and difficult process, it was powerfully 
 assisted by the very disorders consequent upon 
 their attempts at self-government. They had 
 burnt their hands bv seizins^ the hot iron-rod of 
 irregular authority, and were, therefore, better 
 inclined to surrender the baton to those who 
 could handle it. Like Frankenstein, they had 
 created a power which they could not imme- 
 diatelv control : the reorulators, from beino- their 
 servants, had come to be their masters : and 
 thev willint^lv admitted anv authority which 
 promised deliverance. They had risen in wrath, 
 and chastised, with no hesitating hand, the 
 violators of their peace ; but the reaction had 
 taken place, and tbey were now content to be 
 
THE JUSTICE OF THE PEACE. 249 
 
 governed by whatsoever ruler Providence might 
 send them. 
 
 Tlie state governments were established, then, 
 without difficulty, and the officers of the new 
 law pervaded every settlement. The character 
 which I have selected as the best representative 
 of this period, is one of these new officers— 
 the early justice of the peace. 
 
 So far as history or tradition informs us, there 
 was never yet a country in which appointments 
 to office were invariably made with reference 
 only to qualification, and though the west is an 
 exception to more than one general rule, in this 
 respect we must set it down in the common cate- 
 gory. The lawyer-period had not yet arrived ; 
 and, probably, there was never an equal number 
 of people in any civilized country, of whom a 
 larger proportion were totally ignorant of legal 
 forms. There were not three in each hundred 
 who had ever seen the inside of a courthouse, 
 and they were quite as few who had c nee looked 
 upon a law-book ! Where such was the case, 
 some principle of appointment was of course 
 necessary, other than that which required fitness, 
 by training, for tlie office conferred; and it is 
 probable that the rule adopted. was but little 
 different to that in force among those who have 
 11* 
 
250 WESTEEN CIIAEACTEES. 
 
 the appointing power, where no such circum- 
 stances restrict the choice. 
 
 Men were appointed conservators of the 
 jpeace^ because thej had distinguished them- 
 selves in war y and he who had assumed the 
 powers of the law, as a reguhitor, was thought 
 the better qualified to exercise them, as a legal 
 officer! Courage and capacity, as an Indian- 
 fighter, gave one the prominence requisite to 
 his appointment ; and zeal for the preserva- 
 tion of order, exliibited as a self-constituted 
 judge and executioner, was a guaranty for 
 the faithful performance of new and regular 
 duties. 
 
 Nor was the rule a bad one. A justice of 
 the peace chosen upon this principle, possessed 
 two qualities indispensable to an efficient offi- 
 cer, in the times of which we write — he was 
 prompt in the discharge of his duties, and was 
 not afraid of responsibility. To obviate the 
 danger, however, which might arise from these, 
 he had also a rigid sense of justice, which usu- 
 ally guided his determinations according to the 
 rights of parties in interest. This, the iawj^ers 
 will say, was a very questionable trait for a 
 judicial officer ; and perhaps it is better for 
 society, that a judge should know the law, and 
 
THE JUSTICE OF THE PEACE. 251 
 
 administer it without reference to abstract jus- 
 tice, than that his own notions of right and 
 wrong should be taken, howev^er conscientious- 
 ly, as the standard of judgment: for in that 
 case, we shall, at least, have uniformity of ad- 
 judication ; whereas, nothing is more uncertain, 
 than a man's convictions of right. 
 
 But, in the times of which we are writing, 
 society was not yet definitely shaped — its ele- 
 ments were not bound together by the cohesive 
 power of any legal cement — and no better 
 rule was, therefore, to be expected, than the 
 spontaneous suggestions of common sense. The 
 minds of men were, moreover, habituated to a 
 certain course of thought and action — (such as 
 naturally obtains in a new state of society, 
 where the absence of organization remits them 
 to their own exertions for safety) — and it was, 
 therefore, impossible that any artificial system 
 should be at once adopted. The people had 
 been accustomed to such primitive associations, 
 as they had entered into " for the common de- 
 fence and general welfiire" of their infant com- 
 munities ; the rule of action had been swift, and 
 sometimes very informal punishment, for every 
 transgression ; and this rule, having very well 
 answered its purpose, though at the expense 
 of occasional severity and injustice, they could 
 
252 WESTERN CHAKACTEES. 
 
 not immediately understand the necessity for 
 any other course of proceeding. 
 
 One of the characteristics of the early jus- 
 tice, then, was a supreme contempt for all mere 
 form. He called it " nonsense" and could never 
 comprehend its utility. To him, all ceremony 
 was aifectation, and the refinements of legal 
 proceeding were, in his estimation, anti-repub- 
 lican innovations upon the oiiginal simplicity 
 of mankind. Technicalities he considered mere- 
 ly the complicated inventions of lawyers, to 
 exhibit their perverse ingenuity — traps to 
 catch the well-meaning or unwary, or avenues 
 of escape for the guilty. The rules of evidence 
 he neither understood nor cared for ; he desired 
 " to hear all about" every cause brought before 
 him ; and the idea of excluding testimony, in 
 obedience to any rule, he would never enter- 
 tain. He acted upon the j^rinciple — though 
 he probably never heard of the maxim — that 
 " the law furnishes a remedy for every wrong ;" 
 and, if he knew of none in positive enactment, 
 he would provide one, from the arsenal of his 
 own sense of right. He never permitted any- 
 thing to obstruct the punisliment of one whom 
 he had adjudged guilty ; and, rather than allow 
 a culprit to escape, he would order his judg- 
 
THE JTSTICE OF TITE PEACE. 253 
 
 ment to be carried at once into effect, in 
 the presence, and under the direction of the 
 court. 
 
 He had a strong prejudice against every man 
 accused of crime ; and sometimes almost re- 
 versed the ancient presumption of tlie law, and 
 held the prisoner guilty, until lie proved him- 
 self innocent. He had unbounded confidence 
 in the honesty of his neighbors and friends, and 
 was unwilling to believe, that they would ac- 
 cuse a man of crime or misdemeanor, without 
 very good cause. When it was proven that a 
 crime had been committed^ he considered the 
 guilt of the prisoner already half established : 
 it was, in his judgment, what one, better ac- 
 quainted with legal terms, might have called 
 ^^ 2i prima facia case," devolving the onus jpro- 
 Ijandi (or burthen of proof) upon the accused. 
 And this may have been one cause of the fre- 
 quent resort to alihis — a mode of defence 
 which, as we have already remarked, is even 
 yet in great disrepute. If a defence, of some 
 sort, was not, then, ver}^ clearly and satisfac- 
 torily made out, the justice had no hesitation 
 in entering judgment, and ordering immediate 
 ptmishment ; for the right of appeal was not 
 generally recognised, and the justice took origi- 
 nal and final jurisdiction, where now his duties 
 
254 WESTERN CHAEACTERS. 
 
 are merely those of preliminary examination 
 and commitment. 
 
 In civil controversies — wliere sncli causes 
 were presented for adjudication, wliicli, how- 
 ever, was not very often — the order of pro- 
 ceeding was quite as summary. Tlie justice 
 heard the statements of the parties, and some- 
 times, not always, would listen to witnesses, 
 also ; then, taking the general '' rights, inter- 
 ests, claims, and demands," of both sides into 
 consideration' — and viewing himself, not as a 
 judicial officer, but as a sort of referee or arbi- 
 trator — he would strike a balance between the 
 disputants, and dismiss them to their homes, 
 with a significant admonition to " keep the 
 peace." He usually acted upon the principle 
 — no very erronous one, either — that, when 
 two respectable men resort to the law, as arbi- 
 trater of their controversies, they are both about 
 eqnally blameable ; and his judgments were 
 accordingly based upon the corollar}^, that 
 neither deserved to have all he claimed. This 
 was the practice when any decision was made 
 at all ; but, in most cases, the justice acted as 
 a pacificator, and, by his authority and persua- 
 sion, induced the parties to agree upon a com- 
 promise. For this purpose, he not unfrequent- 
 
THE JUSTICE OF THE PEACE. 255 
 
 ly remitted botli fees and costs — those due to 
 the constables, as well as his own. 
 
 An instance of this pacific practice has been 
 related to me as follows : Two neighbors had 
 qnarrelled about a small anionnt of debt, and, 
 after sundry attempts to " settle," finally went 
 to law. The justice took them aside, on the day 
 of trial, and j^roposed a basis of settlement, to 
 which they agreed, on condition^ that all costs 
 should be remitted, and to this the magistrate 
 at once pledged himself. But a difficulty arose : 
 the constable, who had not been consulted in 
 the arrangement, had liad a long ride after the 
 defendant, and having an unquestionable right 
 to demand his fees, was unwilling to give them 
 up. The justice endeavored to prevail with him 
 by persuasion, but in vain. Finally, growing 
 impatient of his obstinacy, he gave him a 
 peremptory order to consent, and, on his refusal, 
 fined' him the exact amount of his ^qq^ for con- 
 tem2yt^ entered up judgment on the basis of the 
 compromise, and adjourned the court! 
 
 The man who thus discourages litigation at 
 the expense of his own official emoluments, may 
 be forgiven a few irregularities of proceeding, 
 in consideration of the good he effects ; for 
 although under such a system it was seldom 
 that either party obtained his full and jnst 
 
256 WESTERN CIIAFvACTEES. 
 
 rights, botli were always benefited by tlie spirit 
 of peace infused into the comni unity. It 
 would, perhaps, be well for the country now, 
 w^ere our legal officers actuated by the same 
 motives; unfortunately, however, such men 
 belong only to primitive times. 
 
 But the love of peace was not accompanied, 
 in this character, as it usually is, by merciful 
 judgment, for, as he was very swift in deter- 
 mining a prisoner's guilt, he was equally rigid 
 in imposing the penalty. The enactments of 
 the criminal code were generally so worded as 
 to give Some scope for the exercise of a com- 
 passionate and enlightened discretion ; but when 
 the decision lay in the breast of our justice, if 
 he adjudged any punishment at all, it was 
 usually the severest provided for by the statute. 
 Half-measures were not adapted to the temper 
 of the times or the character of the people ; 
 indeed, they are suited to no people, and are 
 signal failures at all times, in all circumstances. 
 Inflicting light punishments is like firing blank 
 cartridges at a mob, they only irritate, without 
 subduing; and as the latter course usually ends 
 in unnecessary bloodshed, the former invariably 
 increases the amount of crime. 
 
 CeTtainty of punishment may be — unques- 
 
THE JUSTICE OF TIIE PEACE. 257 
 
 tioriably is — a very important element in the 
 administration of justice, but as nothing so 
 strongly disinclines a man to entering the water 
 as the sight of another drowning, so nothing 
 "will so effectually deter him from the commis- 
 Bion of crime, as the knowledge that another 
 has been severely punished for yielding to the 
 same temptation. The justice, however, based 
 the rigor of his judgments upon no such argu- 
 ment of policy. His austerity was a part of 
 his character, and had been rendered more 
 severe by the circumstances in which he had 
 lived — the audacity of law-breakers, and the 
 necessity for harsh penalties, in order to pro- 
 tection. 
 
 It will be observed that I say nothing of 
 juries, and speak of justices of the peace, as 
 officers having authorit}^ to decide causes alone. 
 And, it must be recollected, that in the days of 
 which I am writing, resort was very seldom had 
 to this cumbersome and uncertain mode of ad- 
 judication. In civil causes, juries were seldom 
 empanelled, because they were attended by very 
 considerable expense and delay. The chief ob- 
 ject, in going to law, moreover, was, in most 
 cases, to have a decision of the matter in dis- 
 pute ; and juries were as prone to " hang" then 
 
258 WESTERN CHARACTEES. 
 
 as now. Suitors generally, therefore, would 
 rather submit to the arbitration of the justice, 
 than take the risk of delay and uncertainty, 
 with a jur}^ In criminal causes, the case was 
 very similar : the accused would as lief be 
 judged by one prejudiced man as by twelve ; 
 for the same rigorous spirit which actuated the 
 justice, pervaded also the juries ; and (besides 
 the chance of timidity or favor in the justice) 
 in the latter he must take the additional risks 
 of personal enmity and relationship to the party 
 injured. Thus, juries were often discarded in 
 criminal causes also, and we think their disuse 
 was no great sacrifice. Such a system can 
 derive its utility, in this country, only from an 
 enlightened public sentiment : if that sentiment 
 be capricious and oppressive, as it too often is, 
 juries are quite as likely to partake its vices as 
 legal oificers : if the sentiment be just and 
 healthy, no judicial officer dare be guilty of 
 oppression. So that our fathers lost nothing in 
 seldom resorting to this "palladium of our 
 liberties," and, without doubt, gained some- 
 thing by avoiding delay, uncertainty, and ex- 
 pense. 
 
 The reader will also observe, that I say 
 jUothing of higher courts. But the lines be- 
 tween the upper and lower tribunals were not 
 
THE JUSTICE OF TTTE TEACE. 259 
 
 SO strictly drawn tlien as tlicy now arc, and the 
 limits of jurisdiction were, consequently, very 
 indefinite. Most of the characteristics, more- 
 over, here ascribed to the justice of the peace, 
 belonged, in almost an equal degree, to the 
 judges of the circuit courts; and, though some 
 of the latter were men of respectable legal re- 
 quirements, the same off-hand mode of ad- 
 ministering the law which distinguished the 
 inferior magistrates, marked the proceedings of 
 their courts also. Both occasionally assumed 
 powers wdiicli they did not legally possess ; both 
 Avere guided more by their own notions of jus- 
 tice, than by the rules of law ; and both were 
 remarkable for their severity npon all trans- 
 gressors. Neither cared much for the rules of 
 evidence, each was equal to any emergency or 
 responsibility, and both had very exalted ideas 
 of their own authority. 
 
 But the functions of the justice were, in his 
 estimation, especially important — his dignity 
 was very considerable also, and his powers any- 
 thing but circumscribed. A few well-authenti- 
 cated anecdotes, however, will illustrate the 
 character better than any elaborate portraiture. 
 And, for fear those I am about to relate may 
 seem exceptions, not fairly representing the 
 class, I should state, in the ontset, that I have 
 
260 ^VESTERN CHAEACTERS. 
 
 selected tliein fi-om a great niimber wliich T can 
 recall, parlicnlarly because tliey are not excep- 
 tive, and give a very just impression of tlie 
 character wliicli I am endeavoring to portray. 
 
 'Sqnire A v^-as a plain, honest farmer, 
 
 who had distinguished himself as a pioneer and 
 ranirer, and Avas remarkable as a man of un- 
 doubted courage, but singularly peaceable tem- 
 per. In the year eightei^n hundred and twenty, 
 he received from Governor Bond of Illinois, a 
 commission as justice of the peace, and though 
 he was not very clear what his duties, dignities, 
 and responsibilities, precisely were, like a patriot 
 and a Roman, he determined to discharge them 
 to the letter. At the period of his appointment, 
 he was at feud with one of his neighbors about 
 that most fruitful of all subjects of quarrel, a 
 division-fenc^ ; and as such differences always 
 are, the dispute had been waxing warmer for 
 several months. He received his docket, blanks, 
 and " Form-Book," on Saturday evening, and 
 though he had as yet no suits to enter and no 
 process to issue, was thns provided with all the 
 weapons of justice. On the following Monday 
 morning, he repaired, as usual, to his fields, 
 about half-a-mile from home, and though full 
 of his new dignity, went quietly to work. 
 
THE JUSTICE OF THE PEACE. 261 
 
 He had not been there long, before his old 
 and only enemy made his appearance, and 
 opened npon him a volley of abuse in relation 
 to the division-fence, bestowing npon his honor, 
 among other expressive titles, the euphonious 
 
 epitliet of ''jackass." A bore the attack 
 
 until it came to this point — which, it would 
 seem, was as far as a man's patience ought to 
 extend — and, it is probable, that had lie not 
 been a legal function arj^, a battle would have 
 ensued " then and there." But it wns beneath 
 the dignity thus outraged, to avenge itself by a 
 
 vulgar fisticuff, and A bethought him of a 
 
 much better and more honorable course. He 
 threw his coat across his arm, and marched 
 home. There he took down his new docket, 
 and upon the first page, recorded the case of 
 the '^ People of the State of Illinois vs. John 
 Braxton^'' (his enemy). He then entered up tlie 
 following judgment: " The defendant in this 
 case^ this day^ fined ten dollars and costs, for 
 CONTEMPT OF COURT, he having called us a jacJc- 
 ass r On the opposite page is an entry of 
 satisfaction, by which it appears that he forth- 
 with issued an execution upon the judgment, 
 and collected the money ! 
 
 This pretext of "contempt" was much in 
 vogue, as a means of reaching offences not ex- 
 
262 WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 
 
 presslj provided for by statute ; but the justice 
 was never at a loss for expedients, even in cases 
 entirely without precedent, as the following 
 anecdote will illustrate : — 
 
 A certain justice, in the same state of Illinois, 
 was one day trying, for an aggravated assault, a 
 man who was too much intoxicated fully to 
 realize the import of the proceedings or the 
 dignity of the court. He was continually in- 
 terrupting witnesses, contradicting their testi- 
 mony, and swearing at the justice. It soon 
 became evident that he must be silenced or the 
 trial adjourned. The justice's patience at length 
 gave way. He ordered the constable to take 
 the obstreperous culprit to a creek, which ran 
 near the ofl&ce, " and duck him until he was 
 sober enough to be quiet and respect the court !" 
 This operation the constable alone could not 
 perform, but in due time he brought the de- 
 fendant back dripping from the creek and 
 thoroughly sobered, reporting, at the same time, 
 that he had availed himself of the assistance 
 
 of two men, Messrs. B and L , in the 
 
 execution of his honor's commands. The trial 
 then went quietly on, tlie defendant was fined 
 for a breach of the peace, and ordered to pay 
 the costs: one item of which was two dollars 
 
THE JUSTICE OF THE PEACE. 263 
 
 to Messrs. B and L " for assisting tlie 
 
 constable in ducking the prisoner !" But, as 
 the justice could find no form nor precedent for 
 hydropathic services, lie entered the charge as 
 " witness fees^'' and required ininicdiato pay- 
 ment ! The shivering culprit, glad to escape on 
 any terms, paid the bill and vanished I 
 
 Whatever might have been the prevailing 
 opinion, as to the legality of such a proceeding, 
 the ridicule attaching to it would cfTectually 
 have i^rcvented any remedy — most men being 
 willing to forgive a little irregularity, for the 
 sake of substantial justice and "a good joke." 
 But the summary course, adopted by these 
 magistrates, sometimes worked even greater 
 injustice — as might have been expected; and 
 of this, the following is an example : — 
 
 About the year eighteen hundred and twen- 
 ty-six, there lived, in a certain part of the west, 
 a man named Smedley, who, so far as the col- 
 lection of debts was concerned, was entirely 
 " law-proof." He seemed to have a constitu- 
 tional indisposition to paying anything ho 
 owed : and, though there were sundry execu- 
 tions in the hands of officers against him — 
 and though he even seemed thrifty enough in 
 his pecuniary affairs — no property could ever 
 
264: WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 
 
 be fonncl, upon wliicli they could be levied. 
 There was, at the same time, a constable in the 
 neighborhood, a man named White, who was 
 celebrated, in those days of difficult collections, 
 for the shrewdness and success of his official 
 exploits ; and the justice upon whom he usually 
 attended, was equally remarkable, for the high 
 hand with which he carried his authority. But, 
 though two executions were placed in the 
 hands of the former, upon judgments on the 
 docket of the latter, months passed awa}^, with- 
 out anything being realized from the impervi- 
 ous defendant, Smedley. 
 
 Whenever the constable found him in pos- 
 session of property, and made a levy, it was 
 proven to belong to some one else ; and the 
 only result of his indefatigable efforts, was the 
 additions of heavy costs to the already hopeless 
 demand. 
 
 At length, however, White learned that Smed- 
 ley had traded horses with a man named Wyatt, 
 and he straightway posted off to consult the 
 magistrate. Between them, the plan of opera- 
 tions was agreed upon. White levied first 
 upon the horse then in the possession of Smed- 
 ley, taking him under one of the two writs : he 
 then levied the other execution upon the horse 
 which Smedley had traded to Wyatt. The lat- 
 
THE JUSTICE OF THE PEACE. 265 
 
 ter, appreliending the loss of his property, 
 claimed the first horse — that which he had 
 traded to Sinedley. But, upon the " trial of the 
 right of property," the justice decided that the 
 horse was found in the possession of Smedley, 
 and was, therefore, subject to levy and sale. 
 He w^as accordingly sold, and the first judg- 
 ment w^as satisfied. Wyatt then claimed the 
 second horse — that which he had received 
 from Smedley. But, upon a similar "trial" — 
 after severely reprimanding AVyatt for claiming 
 l)oth horses, when, on his own showing, he 
 never owned but 07ie — the justice decided 
 that the property in dispute had been in the 
 possession of Smedley at the rendition of the 
 judgment, and was therefore, like the other, 
 subject to a lien, and equally liable to levy and 
 sale ! And accordingly, this horse, also; was 
 sold, to satisfj^ the second execution, and Wyatt 
 was dismissed by the justice, with no gentle 
 admonition, " to be careful in future with whom 
 he swapped horses !" A piece of advice which 
 he probably took, and for which he ought to 
 have been duly grateful! Fallen humanity, 
 however, is very perverse; and it is at least 
 supposable, that, having lost his horse, he con- 
 sidered himself hardly used — an opinion in 
 which my legal readers will probably concur. 
 V2. 
 
266 WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 
 
 Eefore leaA-ing this part of my subject, I will 
 relate another anecdote, w^liich, though it refers 
 more particularly to constables, serves to illns- 
 trute the characteristics of the early officers of 
 the law — justices, as well as others : — 
 
 The constable who figured so advantageously 
 in the anecdote last related, had an execution 
 against a man named Corson, who was almost 
 as nearly "law proof " as Sraedley. He had 
 been a long time endeavoring to realize some- 
 thing, but without success. At length, he was 
 informed, that Corson had sned another man, 
 upon an account, before a justice in a distant 
 part of the same county. This, the delinquent 
 officer at once saw, gave him a chance to secure 
 something; and, on the day of trial, away he 
 posted to the justice's office. Here, he quietly 
 seated himself, and watched the course of the 
 proceeding. The trial went on, and, in due 
 time, the justice decided the cause in favor of 
 Corson. At this juncture, "White arose, and, 
 while the justice was entering up judgment, 
 approached the table. "When the docket was 
 about to be laid aside, he interposed : — 
 
 "Stop !" said he, placing his hand upon the 
 docket, '-^ I levels on tliis judgment P'' And, 
 giving no attention to remonstrances, he de- 
 manded and obtained the execution. On this 
 
THE JUSTICE OF TKE PEACE. 267 
 
 he collected the money, and at once applied it 
 to that, which he had been so long carrying — 
 tlins settling two controversies, by diligence 
 and force of w^ll. He was certainly a valuable 
 officer ! 
 
 Thus irregular and informal were many of 
 the proceedings of the primitive legal function- 
 aries ; but a liberal view of their characters 
 must bring us to the conclusion, that their in- 
 fluence upon the progress of civilization of the 
 country, was, on the whole, decidedly benefi- 
 ciah 
 
VII. 
 
 THE PEDDLEK. 
 
 " This is a traveller, sir ; knows men and 
 Manners." — Beaumont and Flktcheb. 
 
 pREvioirs to the organization of civil govern- 
 ment, and " the form and pressure" given to the 
 times by this and its attendant circumstances, 
 the primitive tastes and habits of the western 
 people, excluded many of those artificial wants 
 which are gratified by commerce, and afibrded 
 no room for traders, excepting those who sold 
 the absolute necessaries of life. 
 
 In those days, housekeeping ^vas a very sim- 
 ple matter. IS'either steam-engines nor patent 
 cook-stoves were yet known, as necessary ad- 
 juncts to a kitchen ; the housewife would have 
 " turned up her nose" in contempt of a bake- 
 oven : would have thrown a " Yankee reflector" 
 over the fence, and branded the innovator wdth 
 the old-fashioned gridiron. Tin Avas then sup- 
 posed to be made only for cups and coffee-pots : 
 
THE PEDDLEE. 269 
 
 pie-pans had not yet even entered " the land of 
 dreams ;" and the tea-kettle, which then " sang 
 songs of family glee," was a quaint, sqnat 
 figure, resembling nothing so much as an over- 
 fed duck, and poured forth its music from a 
 crooked, quizzical spout, with a notch in its iron 
 nozzle. If its shut-iron lid was ornamented 
 with a brass button, for a handle, it was thought 
 to be manufactured in superior • style ? Iron 
 spoons were good enough for the daintiest 
 mouth ; and a full set of pewter was a house- 
 hold treasure. China dishes and silver plate 
 had been heard of, but belonged to the same 
 class of marvellous things, with Aladdin's lamp 
 and Fortunatus's purse. Cooking was not yet 
 reduced to a science, and eating was like sleep 
 — a necessity, not a mere amusement. The 
 only luxuries known, were coffee and sugar; 
 and these, with domestics and other cotton 
 fabrics, were the chief articles for which the 
 products of the earth were bartered. 
 
 French cloths and Parisian fashions were 
 still less known than silver spoons and " rotary 
 stoves." The men wore homemade jeans, cut 
 after the mode of the forest: its dye a favorite 
 '' Tennessean" brownish-yellow ; and the women 
 were not ashamed to be seen in linsey-wolsey, 
 woven in the same domestic loom. Knitting 
 
270 WESTERN CHAEACTERS. 
 
 was then not only an accomplishment, but a 
 useful art ; and the size which a " yarn" stock- 
 ing gave to a pretty ankle, was not suffered to 
 overbalance the consideration of its comfort. 
 The verge of nakedness was not then the region 
 of modesty : the neck and its adjacent parts 
 were covered in preference to the hands ; and, 
 in their barbarous ignorance, the women thought 
 it more shame to appear in public half-dressed, 
 than to wear a comfortable shoe. 
 
 They were certainly a very primitive people — 
 unrefined, unfashionable, "coarse" — and many 
 of their sons and daughters are even now 
 ashamed to think what " savages" tlieir parents 
 were ! In their mode of life, they sought com- 
 fort, not " appearances ;" and many things which 
 their more sophisticated descendants deem 
 necessaries, they contemned as luxuries. 
 
 But, in the course of time, these things began 
 to change, for simplicity is always " primitive," 
 and the progress of refinement is only tlie mul- 
 tiplication of wants. As the country was re- 
 duced to cultivation, and peace settled upon its 
 borders, new classes of emigrants began to take 
 possession of the soil ; and, for the immediate 
 purposes of rapid advancement, and especiallj^ 
 ♦f social improvement, they were better classes 
 
THE PEDDLEK, 271 
 
 than tliclr predecessors: for, as the original 
 pioneers liad always lived a little bej'ond the 
 influences of regular civilization, these had re- 
 mained within its limits until the 2)ressure of 
 legal organization began to grow irksome to 
 their partially untamed spirits. There was, in- 
 deed, an unbroken gradatioaof character, from 
 the nearl}^ savage hunter, who visited the 
 country only because it w^as uninhabited, except 
 by wild beasts, to the genuine Gitize7i, wdio 
 brought with him order, and industry, and legal 
 supremacy. 
 
 The emigrants, of whom we are now writing, 
 constituted the third step in this progression ; 
 and they imported along with them, or drew 
 after them, the peculiarities belonging to their 
 owm degree of advancement. Their notions of 
 comfort and modes of living, though still quite 
 crude, indicated an appreciable stage of refine- 
 ment. They were better supplied, for example, 
 with cooking utensils — their household furni- 
 ture was not so primitive — and in wearing ap- 
 parel, they manifested some regard to elegance 
 as well as comfort. Social intercourse dissemi- 
 nated these ideas among those to whom they 
 were novel ; where, previously, the highest 
 motive to improvement had been a desire for 
 convenience, the idea of gentility began to 
 
272 WESTEr^N CHARACTERS. 
 
 claim an influence ; and some of the more 
 moderate embellishments of life assumed the 
 place of the mere necessaries. 
 
 The transition was not rapid nor violent, like 
 all permanent changes, it was the work of 
 jears, marked by comparatively slow grada- 
 tions. First, tin-ware, of various descriptions, 
 became necessary to the operations of the 
 kitchen; and that which had been confined to 
 one or two articles, was now multiplied into 
 many forms. A housewife could no more bake 
 a pie without a " scalloped" pie-pan, than with- 
 out a fire : a tin-bucket was much more easily 
 handled than one of cedar or oak ; and a pepper- 
 box, of the same material, was as indispensable 
 as a salt-cellar. A little tea was occasionally 
 added to the ancient regimen of coflfee, and 
 thus a tin-canister became necessary for the 
 preservation of the precious drug. With tea 
 came queensware : and half-a-dozen cups and 
 saucers, usually of a dingy white, with a raised 
 blue edge, were needful for the pranking of the 
 little cupboard. 
 
 But it was not only in the victualing department 
 that the progress of refinement could be traced ; 
 for the thrifty housewife, who thought it proper 
 to adorn her table, and equip her kitchen with 
 
THE PEDDLER. 273 
 
 all the lute improvements, could not, of course, 
 entirely overlook "the fashions :" the decoration 
 of her person lias been, in all ages, the just and 
 honest pride of woman. Linsey-wolsey began 
 to give place to calicoes and many-colored 
 prints ; calf-skin shoes were antiquated by the 
 use of kid ; and ribands fluttered gracefully 
 upon new-fashioned bonnets. Progress of this 
 kind never takes a step backward : once pos- 
 sessed of an improvement in personal comfort, 
 convenience, or adornment, man — or woman 
 — seldom gives it up. Thus, these things, once 
 used, thenceforth became wants, whose gratifi- 
 cation was not to be foregone : and it is one of 
 the principles governing commerce, that the 
 demand draws to it the supply. 
 
 There were few " country stores," in those 
 days, and the settlements were so scattered as 
 to make it sometimes very inconvenient to visit 
 them. From ten to twenty miles was a moder- 
 ate distance to the depot of supplies; and a 
 whole day was usually consumed in going and 
 returning. The visits were, therefore, not very 
 frequent — the purchases for many weeks — 
 perhaps months — being made on each occa- 
 sion. This was a very inconvenient mode of 
 " shopping," even for tlie energetic women of 
 that day ; and, since the population would not 
 12^ 
 
274 WESTEEN CHARACTERS. 
 
 justify more numerous "stores," it was desira- 
 ble tluit some new system should be introduced, 
 capable of supplying the demand at the cost of 
 less trouble, and fewer miles of travel. To 
 answer tliis necessity there w^as but one way — 
 the " storekeeper" must carry his wares to the 
 doors of his customers. And thus arose the 
 occupation of the Peddler^ or, as he called 
 himself, the " travelling merchant." 
 
 The population of the country was then al- 
 most exclusively agricultural — the mechanic 
 arts belong to a more advanced period. The 
 consequence was, that the first articles carried 
 about from house to house, were such as are 
 manufactured by artisans — and the chief of 
 these was tin-ware. 
 
 Tlie tinkers of the rural districts in older 
 countries, were, however, not known in this — 
 they were not adapted to the genius of the peo- 
 ple. The men who sold the ware w^ere, scarcely 
 ever, the same who made it ; and, though the 
 manual dexterity of most of these ready men, 
 might enable them to mend a broken pan, or a 
 leaky cofi'eepot, their skill w^as seldom put in 
 requisition. Besides, since the mending of an 
 old article might interfere with the sale of a 
 new one, inability to perform the office was 
 more frequently assumed than felt. 
 
Tire PEDDLER. 275 
 
 In tlie course of time — as the people of the 
 country began to accjuire new ideas, and dis- 
 cover new wants — other articles were added 
 to the peddler's stock. Calicoes were often car- 
 ried in the same box with tin pans — cotton 
 checks and ginghams were stowed away be- 
 neath tin-cups and iron-spoons — shining coffee- 
 pots were crammed with spools of thread, 
 papers of pins, cards of horn-buttons, and cakes 
 of shaving-soap — ^and bolts of gaudy riband 
 could be drawn from pepper-boxes and sausage- 
 stuffers. Table-cloths, of cotton or brown linen, 
 were displayed before admiring eyes, which 
 had turned away from all the brightness of 
 new tin plates ; and knives and forks, all " war- 
 ranted pure steel," appealed to tastes, which 
 nothing else could excite. New razors touched 
 the men "in tender places," Tvhile shining 
 scissors clipped the purses of the women. Silk 
 handkerchiefs and " fancy" neckcloths — things 
 till then unknown — could occupy the former, 
 while the latter covetously turned over and ex- 
 amined bright ribands and fresh cotton hose. 
 The peddler was a master of the art of pleasing 
 all tastes : even the children were not forgot- 
 ten ; for til ere were whips and jew's-harps for 
 the boys, and nice check aprons for the girls. 
 (The taste for " playing mother" was as much 
 
276 WESTEJKN CHARACTERS. 
 
 an instinct, with the female children of that 
 day, as it is in times more modern; bnt life 
 was yet too earnest to display it in the dressing 
 and nursing of waxen babies.) To suit the 
 people from whom the peddler's income was de- 
 rived, he must consult at least the appearance 
 of utility, in every article he offered ; for, 
 though no man could do more, to coax the 
 money out of one's pocket, without leaving an 
 equivalent, even he could not succeed in such 
 an enterprise, against the matter-of-fact pioneer. 
 
 The '' travelling merchants" of this country 
 were generally what their customers called 
 "Yankees" — that is, I^ew-Englanders, or de- 
 scendants of the puritans, whether born east 
 of the Hudson or not. And, certainly, no class 
 of men were ever better fitted for an occupa- 
 tion, than w^ere those for "peddling." Tlie 
 majority of them were young men, too; for the 
 " Yankee" who lives beyond middle age, with- 
 out providing snug quarters for the decline of 
 life, is usually not even fit for a peddler. But, 
 though often not advanced in years, they often 
 exhibited qualities, which one would have ex- 
 pected to find only in men of age and experi- 
 ence. They could " calculate," with the most 
 absolute certainty, what precise stage of ad- 
 
THE TEDDLER. 277 
 
 vancement and cultivation, was necessary to 
 tlic introduction of every article of mercliandiso 
 their stock comprised. Up to a certain limit, 
 they offered, for example, linen table-cloths : 
 beyond that, cotton was better and more sale- 
 able ; in certain settlements, they could sell 
 numbers of the finer articles, whicli, in others, 
 hung on their hands like lead ; and they seemed 
 to know, the moment they breathed the air of 
 a neighborhood, what precise character of goods 
 "was most likely to pay." 
 
 Thus — by way of illustration — it might 
 seem, to one not experienced in reading the 
 signs of progress, a matter of nice speculation 
 and snbtle inquiry, to determine what exact 
 degree of cultivation was necessary, to make 
 profitable the trade in clocks. But I believe 
 there is no instance of an unsuccessful clock- 
 pedcller on record ; and, though this fact may 
 be accounted for, superficially, by asserting 
 that time is alike important to all men, and a 
 measure of its course, therefore, always a want, 
 a little reflection will convince us, that this ex- 
 planation is more plausible than sound. 
 
 It is, perhaps, beyond the capacity of any 
 man, to judge unerringly, by observation, of 
 the usual signs of progress, the exact point at 
 
278 WESTERN CIIAEACTERS. 
 
 wliicli a comninnitv, or a man, lias arrived in 
 the scale of cultiv^ation ; and it may seem es- 
 pecially difficult, to determine commercially, 
 wliat precise articles, of use or ornament, are 
 adapted to the state indicated by those signs. 
 But that there are such indications, which, if 
 properly attended to, will be unfailing guides, 
 is not to be denied. Thus, the quick observa- 
 tion of a clock-peddler would detect among a 
 community of primitive habits, the growing 
 tendency to regularity of life ; for, as refine- 
 ment advances, the common affairs of every- 
 day existence, feeling the influence first, assume 
 a degree of order and arrangement ; and from 
 the display of this improvement, the trader 
 might draw inferences favorable to his traffic. 
 Eating, for examj)le, as he would perceive, is 
 done at certain hours of the day — sleep is 
 taken between fixed periods of the night and 
 morning — especially, public worship — which 
 is one of the best and surest signs of social ad- 
 vancement — must be held at a time generally 
 understood. 
 
 The peddler might conclude, also, when he 
 saw a glazed window in a house, that the owner 
 was already p' ssessed of a clock — Avhich, per- 
 haps, needed rejjairing — or, at least, was in 
 great need of one, if he had not yet made the 
 
THE PEDDLER. 279 
 
 purchase. One of these shrewd " calculators" 
 once told me, that, when he saw a man with 
 four panes of glass in his house, and no clock, 
 he either sold him one straightway, or "set 
 him down crazy, or a screw." 
 
 " Have you no other ' signs of promise" ? I 
 asked. 
 
 " O yes," he replied, "many ! For instance: 
 When I am riding past a house — (I always 
 ride slowly) — I take a general and particular 
 survey of the premises — or, as the military 
 men say, I make a reconnaissance / and it must 
 be a very bare place, indeed, if I can not see 
 some ' sign,' by which to determine, whether 
 the owner needs a clock. If I see the man, 
 himself, I lot»k at his extremities; and by the 
 appearance of hat and boot, I make up my 
 opinion as to whether he knows the value of 
 time : if he wears anything but a cap, I can 
 pretty fairly calculate upon sulling him a clock ; 
 and if, to the hat, he has added hoots^ I halt at 
 once, and, without ceremony, carry a good 
 one in. 
 
 " When I see the wife, instead of the hus- 
 band, I have no difficulty in making up my 
 mind — though the signs about \\\q, women are 
 so numerous and minute, that it would be liard 
 to explain them. If one wears a check-apron 
 
280 WESTERN CIIARACTEES. 
 
 and sports a calico dress, I know that a * trav- 
 elling merchant' has been in the neighbor- 
 hood ; and if he has succeeded in making, a rea- 
 sonable number of sales, I am certain that he 
 has given her such a taste for buying, that I 
 can sell her anything at all : for purchasing 
 cheap goods, to a woman, is like sipping good 
 liquijr, to a man — she soon acquires the appe- 
 tite, and thenceforward it is insatiable. 
 
 "I have some customers who have si passion 
 for clocks. There is a man on this road, who 
 has one for every room in his house ; and I 
 have another with me now — with a portrait of 
 General Jackson in the front — which I expect 
 to add to his stock. There is a fanner not far 
 from here, with whom I have ' traded' clocks 
 every year since I first entered the neighbor- 
 hood — always receiving about half the value 
 of the article I sell, in money, 'to boot.' 
 There are clock-fanciers, as well as fanciers of 
 dogs and birds ; and I have known cases, in 
 which a man would have two or three time- 
 pieces in his house, and not a pair of shoes in 
 the family ! But such customers are rare — as 
 they ought to be ; and the larger part of our 
 trade is carried on, with people who begin to 
 feel the necessity of regularity — to whom tlie 
 sun has ceased to be a sufficient guide ■ — and 
 
THE PEDDLEK. 281 
 
 who liave acquired some notimis of elegance 
 and comfort. And we seldom encounter the 
 least trouble in determining, by the general ap- 
 pearance of the place, whether the occupant has 
 arrived at that sta£i:e of refinement." 
 
 "We perceive that the principal study of the 
 peddler is human nature ; and though he clas- 
 sifies the principles of liis experience, more 
 especially with reference to the profits of his 
 trade, his rapid observation of minor traits and 
 indications, is a talent which miglit be nseful in 
 many pursuits, besides clock-peddling. And, 
 accordingly, we discover that, even after he 
 has abandoned the occnpation, and ceased to be 
 a bird of passage, he never fails to turn his 
 learnino' to a i^ood account. 
 
 lie was distinguished by energy as w^ell as 
 shrewdness, and an enterprising spirit was the 
 first element of his prosperity. There was no 
 corner — no secluded settlement — no out-of-tlie 
 way place — where he' was not seen. Bad roads 
 never deterred him : he could drive his horses and 
 wagon where a four-wheeled vehicle never went 
 before. He understood bearings and dit^tanccs 
 as well as a topographical engineer, and ^\'ould 
 go, whistling contentedly, across a prairie or 
 
282 WESTEEN CHAEACTEES. 
 
 through a forest, where he had not even a 
 " trail" to guide him. He could iind fords and 
 crossings where none were previously known to 
 exist ; and his pair of lean horses, by the skil- 
 ful management of their driver, would carry 
 him and his wares across sloughs and swamps, 
 where a steam-engine would have been clogged 
 by the weight of a baby-wagon. If he broke 
 his harness or his vehicle in the wilderness, he 
 could repair it without assistance, for his me- 
 chanical accomplishments extended from the 
 shoeing of a horse to the repair of a watch, and 
 embraced everything between. He was never 
 taken by surprise — accidents never came un- 
 expected, and strange events never disconcerted 
 him. He would whistle " Yankee Doodle" 
 while his horses were floundering in a quag- 
 mire, and sing " HailColumbia" while plunging 
 into an unknown river ! 
 
 He never met a stranger, for he was in- 
 timately acquainted with a man as soon as he 
 saw him. Introductions were useless ceremo- 
 nies to him, for he cared nothing about names. 
 He call a woman " ma'am" and a man "mister," 
 and if he could sell either of them a few 
 goods, he never troubled himself or them with 
 impertinent inquiries* Sometimes he liad a 
 habit of learning each man's name from his 
 
THE PEDDLEK. 283 
 
 next neiglibor, and possessing an excellent 
 memory, lie never lost the intbnnation thus 
 acquired. 
 
 When he had passed through a settlement 
 once, he had a com]3lete knowledge of all its 
 circumstances, history, and inhabitants ; and, 
 the next year, if he met a child in the road, he 
 could tell you whom it most resembled, and to 
 what family it belonged. He recollected all 
 who were sick on his last visit — what peculiar 
 difficulties each was laboring under — and was 
 always glad to hear of their convalescence. He 
 gathered medicinal herbs along the road, and 
 generously presented them to the housewives 
 where he halted, and he understood perfectly 
 the special properties of each. He possessed a 
 great store of good advice, suited to every 
 occasion, and distributed it with the disinterested 
 benevolence of a philanthropist. He knew 
 precisely what articles of merchandise were 
 adapted to the taste of each customer ; and the 
 comprehensive "rule of three" would not have 
 enabled him to calculate more nicely the exact 
 amount of " talk" necessary to convince them 
 of the same. 
 
 His address was extremely insinuating, for he 
 always endeavored to say tlie most jigreeal le 
 things, and no ma'.i could judge more accurately 
 
284 WESTEKN CIIARACTEES. 
 
 wliat would best please the person addressed. 
 He might be vain enough, but his egotism was 
 never obtruded upon others. lie might secretly 
 felicitate himself upon a successful trade, but 
 he never boasted of it. He seemed to be far 
 more interested in the affairs of others than in 
 his own. He had sympathy for the afflictions 
 of his customers, counsel for their difficulties, 
 triumph in their success. 
 
 Before the introduction of mails, he was the 
 universal news-carrier, and could tell all about 
 the movements of tlie whole world. He could 
 gossip over his wares with his female customers, 
 till he beguiled them into endless purchases, for 
 he had heard of every deatlf, marriage, and 
 birth within fifty miles. He recollected the 
 precise piece of calico from wdiich Mrs. Jones 
 bought her last new dress, and the identical 
 bolt of riband from which Mrs. Smith trimmed 
 her " Sunday bonnet." He knew whose children 
 went to " meeting" in " store-shoes," whose 
 daughter was beginning to wear long dresses, 
 and whose wife wore cotton hose. He could 
 ring the changes on the "latest fashions" as 
 glibly as the skilfulest modiste. He was a 
 connoisseur in colors, and learned in their 
 effects upon complexion. He could laugh the 
 
THE PEDDLEK. 2S5 
 
 Imsband into half-a-dozen shirts, flatter the wife 
 into calico and gingham, and praise the children 
 till both parents joined in dressing them anew 
 from top to toe. 
 
 He always sold his goods " at a ruinous 
 sacrifice,'' but he seemed to have a depot of 
 infinite extent and capacity, from which he 
 annuall}^ drew new supplies. lie invariably 
 left a neighborhood the loser by his visit, and 
 the close of each season found him inconsolable 
 for his " losses." But the next year he was sure 
 to come back, risen, like the Phoenix, from his 
 own ashes, and ready to be ruined again — in 
 the same way. He could never resist the plead- 
 ing look of a pretty woman, and if she "jewed" 
 him twenty per cent, (though his profits were 
 only two hundred), the tenderness of his heart 
 compelled him to yield. AVhat wonder is it, 
 then, if he was a prime favorite with all the 
 women, or that his advent, to the children, made 
 a day of jubilee ? 
 
 But the peddler, like every other human 
 "institution," only had "his day." The time 
 Boon came when he was forced to give way 
 before the march of newfangledness. The 
 country grew densely populated, neighborhoods 
 became thicker, and the smoke of one man's 
 
286 WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 
 
 chimney could be seen from another's front- 
 door. People's wants began to be permanent 
 — the J were no longer content with transient 
 or periodical supplies — they demanded some- 
 thing more constant and regular. From this 
 demand arose the little neighborhood " stores," 
 establislied for each settlement at a central and 
 convenient point — usually at " cross-roads," or 
 next door to the blacksmith's shop — and these 
 it was which superseded the peddler's trade. 
 
 "We could wish to pause here, and, after de- 
 scribing the little depot, "take an account of 
 stock :" for no store, not even a sutler's, ever 
 presented a more amusing or characteristic 
 assortment. But since these modest establish- 
 ments were generally the nuclei^ around which 
 western towns were built, we must reserve our 
 fire until we reach that subject. 
 
 But the peddler had not acquired his experi- 
 ence of life for nothing, he was not to be out- 
 done, even by the more aristocratic stationary 
 shop-keeper. When he found his trade de- 
 clining, he cast about him for a good neighbor- 
 hood, still uninvaded by the Lombards, and his 
 extensive knowledge of the country soon enabled 
 him to find one. Here he erected his own 
 
TEE PEDDLEB. 287 
 
 cabin, and boldly entered the lists against his 
 new competitors. If he could find no eligible 
 point for such an establishment, or if he augured 
 unfavorably of his success in the new walk, he 
 was not cast down. If he could not "keep 
 store," he could at least "keep tavern," an 
 occupation for which his knowledge of the 
 world and cosmopolitan habits, admirably fitted 
 him. In this capacity, we shall have occasion 
 to refer to him again ; and have now only to 
 record, that in the progress of time, he grew 
 rich, if not fat, and eventually died, " universally 
 regretted." 
 
VIII. 
 
 1 kaev ant ■ut, aad every trwaa 
 * * * * 
 
 Tet he «■■ kiad ; or, if aanati m 
 The lone ke bore to v^«fMg «ae i 
 
 Gc U J KJlf T H'S '^I>552rTSI> T t r «g ig ■ 
 
 Ix the progress of eociety, the physical wanta^H 
 are felt before the intellectna]. Men appre-^^ 
 ciate the nece^tr for covering their backs and 
 lining their stomachs before storing their minds, 
 and they natnrally pri^vide a shelter fitim the 
 storms of heaven. t»efore they seek « with other 
 learning) a knowledge of the heavenly bodies. i 
 Thus the rudest social system comprises some- ) 
 thing of the mechanic arts — g«3vemment begins j 
 to advance toward the dignity of a science — | 
 commerce follows the establishment of legal 
 
t 
 
 T H F. !?(MI <M. L ii V r^T f. K 
 
 t 
 
THE SCIIOOLMASTEIJ. 289 
 
 supremacy — and the education of the citizen 
 conies directly after the recognition of his social 
 and political rights. So, the justice of the 
 peace (among other legal functionaries) indi- 
 cates subjection, more or less complete, to the 
 regulations of law ; the peddler represents the 
 beginning of commercial interests ; and the 
 schoolmaster succeeds him, in the natural order 
 of things. 
 
 It may be possible to preserve a high respect 
 for a calling^ while we despise the men who 
 exercise it: though I believe this is not one of 
 the rules which " work both ways," and the con- 
 verse is, therefore, not equally true. A man's 
 occnpation affects Jmn more nearly than he 
 does his occupation. A thousand contemptible 
 men will not bring a respectable profession into 
 so much disrepute, as a contemptible profession 
 will a thousand respectable men. All the mili- 
 tary talents, for example, of the commander-in- 
 chief of our armies, w^ould not preserve him 
 from contempt, should he set up a barber-shop, 
 or drive a milk-cart: but the barber, or the 
 milkman, might make a thousand blunders at 
 the head of an army, should extravagant democ- 
 racy elevate him to that position, and yet the 
 rank of a general would be as desirable, because 
 as honorable, as ever. 
 
 13 
 
290 WESTERN CIIAKACTEES. 
 
 It is certainly true, however, that the most 
 exalted station may be degraded by filling it 
 with a low or despicable incumbent, for the 
 mental effort necessary to the abstraction of the 
 employment from him w^ho pursues it, is one 
 which most men do not take the trouble to 
 make : an effort, indeed, which the majority of 
 men are incajpable of making. A vicious priest 
 degrades the priestly vocation — a hypocrite 
 brings reproach upon the religious profession — 
 a dishonest lawyer sinks the legal character 
 — and even the bravest men care but little for 
 promotion in an army, when cowardice and in- 
 competency are rewarded with rank and power. 
 But manifest incapacity, culpable neglect of 
 duty, or even a positively vicious character, 
 will not reduce a calling to contempt, or bring 
 it into disrepute so soon, as any quality which 
 excites ridicule. 
 
 An awkward figure, a badly-shaped garment, 
 or an ungainly manner, will sometimes out- 
 weigh the acquirements of the finest scholar; 
 and the cause of religion has suffered more, 
 from the absence of the softer graces, in its 
 clerical representations, than from all \\\q logic 
 of its adversaries. A laugh is more efi*ectual 
 to subvert an institution, tlian an argument — 
 for it is o.'it^ier to make men ashamed, than to 
 
THE SCIIOOLMxlSTER. 291 
 
 convince thctn. Trutli and reason are formida- 
 able weapons, but ridicule is stronger than 
 either — or botli. 
 
 Thus : All thinking men will eagerly admit, 
 that the profession of the schoolmaster is, not 
 onlj respectable, but honorable, alike to the in- 
 dividual, and to the community in which he 
 pursues it : yet, rather than teach a school fur a 
 livelihood, the large majority of the same men 
 would " split rails" or cut cord-wood ! And this 
 is not because teaching is laborious — though it 
 is laborious, and thankless, too, beyond all 
 other occupations ; but because a number and 
 variety of causes, into whicli w^e need not in- 
 quire, have combined to throw ridicule upon 
 him, who is derisively called the pedagogue — 
 for most men would rather be shot at, than 
 laughed at. Cause and effect are always inter- 
 reactive : and the refusal of the most compe- 
 tent men, to " take up the birch" — which is 
 the effect of this derision — has filled our 
 school-rooms with men, who are, not unfairly, 
 its victims. Thus the profession — (for such is 
 its inherent dignity) — itself, has fallen into dis- 
 credit — even thougli the judgment of men 
 universally i^, th;it it is not only useful, but in- 
 dispensable. 
 
 ISTor is that judgment incorrect. For, though 
 
292 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 
 
 home-education may sometimes succeed, it is 
 usually too fragmentary to be beneficial — pri- 
 vate tutors are too often the slaves of their pu- 
 pils, and can not enforce "attentioiu'' the first 
 condition of advancement, where ti.v\ have not 
 the paraphernalia of command — and, as for 
 self-education, logically there can be no such 
 thing : " one might as well attempt to lift him- 
 self over the fence, by the straps of his boots," 
 as to educate himself " witliout a master." 
 
 The schoolmaster, then, is a useful member 
 of society — not to be spared at any stage of its 
 progress. But he is particularly necessary to 
 communities which are in the transition state ; 
 for, upon the enlightenment of the rising gener- 
 ation depend the success and preservation of 
 growing institutions. JSTor does his usefulness 
 consist altogether — or even in a great measure 
 — in the number of facts, sciences, or theories, 
 with which he may store the minds of his pu- 
 pils. These are not the objects of education, 
 any more than a knowledge of the compart- 
 ments in a printer's " letter-case," is the ulti- 
 mate result of tlie art of printing. The types 
 are so arranged, in order to enable the com- 
 positors more conveniently to attain the ends, 
 for which that arrangement is only a prepara- 
 
THE SCTIOOL:\rASTEK. 293 
 
 tion : facts and sciences are tanght for the im- 
 provement of tliu faculties, in order tliat they 
 may work with more ease, force, and certainty, 
 npon otlier and really important things; for 
 education is only the marshalling of powers, 
 preliminary to the great " battle of life." 
 
 The mind of an uneducated man, however 
 strong in itself, is like an army of undisciplined 
 men — a crowd of chaotic, shapeless, and often 
 misdirected elements. To' bring these into 
 proper subjection — to enable him to bind 
 them, with anything like their native force, to 
 a given purpose — a prescribed "trainirg" is 
 necessary ; and it is this which education sup- 
 plies. If you can give a mind the hahit of at- 
 tention,, all the power it has -will be made 
 available : and it is through this faculty, that 
 even dull minds are so frequently able to 
 mount the car of triumph, and ride swiftly 
 past so many, who are immeasurably their 
 superiors. The first element of the discipline 
 which develops this power, is submission to 
 control ; and without such subordination, a 
 school can not exist. Thus, the first lesson 
 that children learn from the schoolmaster, is 
 the most valuable acquisition they can make. 
 
 But it was no easy task to teach this princi- 
 
294: WESTERN CIIAKACTEES. 
 
 pie to the sturdy cliildren of tlie early "Western 
 " settler ;" in this, as in all other things, the 
 difficulty of the labor was in exact proportion 
 to its necessity. The peculiarities of the peo- 
 ple, and the state of the country, were not 
 favorable to the establishment of the limited 
 monarchy, requisite to successful teaching. In 
 the first place, the parents very generally un- 
 dervalued, what they called '' mere book-learn- 
 ing." For themseives, they had found more 
 use for a rifle than a pen ; and they naturally 
 thought it a much more valuable accomplish- 
 ment, to be able to scalp a squirrel with a 
 bullet, at a hundred paces, than to read the 
 natural history of the animal in the " picture- 
 book." They were enthusiastic, also, upon the 
 subject of independence; and, though they 
 could control their children sternly enough at 
 home, they were apt to look, with a jealous eye, 
 upon any attempt to establish dominion else- 
 where. The children partook largely of the 
 free, wnld spirit of their fathers. They were 
 very prompt to resist anything like encroach- 
 ment upon their privileges or rights, and were, 
 of course, pretty certain to consider even salu- 
 tary control an attempt to assert a despotism. 
 I believe history contains no record, wliatever 
 the annals of fiction may display, of a boy, 
 
I 
 
 TiiE ?cirDOT.:\rASTKR. 205 
 
 with mncli spirit, submitting without a murmur 
 to the authority of the schoolmaster : if such a 
 prodigy of enlightened humility ever existed, 
 he certainly did not live in the west. But a 
 more important difficulty than either of these, 
 was the almost entire want of money in the 
 country ; and without this there was but little 
 encouragement for the effort to overcome ptlier 
 obstacles. Money may be onlj^ a rejyresentative 
 of value, but its absence operates marvellously 
 like the want of the value itself, and the primi- 
 tive people of those days, and especially that 
 class to which the schoolmaster belonged, had 
 a habit, however illogical, of considering it a 
 desirable commodity, jper se. 
 
 All these impediments, however, could, in the 
 course of time, be conquered : the country was 
 improving in social tone ; parents must eventu- 
 ally take some pride even in the accomplish- 
 ments they despised ; and patience and gentle- 
 ness, intermingled, now and then, with a little 
 wholesome severity, will ultimately subdue the 
 most stubborn spirit. As for the pecuniary 
 difficulty, it was, as the political economists 
 will tell us, only the absence of a medium at 
 the worst: and, in its stead, the master could 
 receive boarding, clothing, and the agricultural 
 products of the country. So many barrels of 
 
296 WESTEKN CHA"RACTET?S. 
 
 corn, or bushels of wheat, " per quarter," might 
 not be so conveniently handled, but were quite 
 as easy to be counted, as an equal number of 
 dollars ; and this primitive mode of payment is 
 even yet practised in many rural districts, per- 
 haps, in both the east and west. To counter- 
 balance its inconvenience of bulk, this " cur- 
 rency" possessed a double advantage over the 
 more refined "medium of exchange" now in 
 use: it was not liable to counterfeits, and the 
 bank from wdiicli it issued was certain not to 
 " break." 
 
 So the schoolmaster w^as not to be deterred 
 from pursuing his honorable calling, even by 
 the difficulties incident to half-organized com.mu- 
 nities. Indeed, teacliing was the resort, at least 
 temporary, of four fifths of the educated, and 
 nearly an equal number of the uneducated 
 young men, w^ho came to the west : for certainly 
 that proportion of both classes arrived in the 
 country, w^ithout money to suj^port, friends to 
 encourage, or 2~>ride to deter them. 
 
 They were almost all what western people 
 call "Yankees" — born and bred east of the 
 Hudson : descendants of tlie sturdy puritans — 
 and distinguished by tlie peculiarities of that 
 strongly-marked people, in personal appear- 
 
i 
 
 THE SCHOOLMASTER. 297 
 
 ancG, language, manners, and style and tone of 
 tli(»nght. Like tlie peddlers, they were gene- 
 rally on tlie sunny side of thirty, full of the 
 hopeful energy which belongs to that period of 
 life, and only submitting to ihe labors and 
 privations of the present, because through those 
 they looked to the future for better and brighter 
 things. 
 
 The causes which led to their emigration, 
 were as many and as various as the adventurers 
 whom they moved. They were, most of them, 
 mere boys : young Whittingtons, whom the 
 bells did 7iot ring back, to become lord-mayors ; 
 who, indeed, had not even the limited posses- 
 sions of that celebrated worthy ; and, thus des- 
 titute, they wandered off, many hundreds of 
 miles, " to see the world and make their for- 
 tunes," at an age when the youth of the present 
 day are just beginning to think of college. 
 They brought neither money, letters of intro- 
 duction, nor bills of exchange : they expected 
 to find neither acquaintance nor relatives. But 
 they knew — for it was one of the wise maxims 
 of their unromantic fathers — that industry and 
 honesty must soon gather friends, and that all 
 other desirable things would speedily follow. 
 They had great and just confidence in their own 
 abilities to "get along;" and if they did not 
 13* 
 
298 WESTEEN ClIAEACTEES. 
 
 actua.llj tliink that the whole world belonged to 
 them, the J were well-assured, that in an in- 
 credibly short space of time, they would be 
 able to possess a respectable portion of it. 
 
 A genuine specimen of the class to which 
 most of the early schoolmasters belonged, never 
 felt any misgivings about his own success, and 
 never hesitated to assume any position in life. 
 IN'either pride nor modesty was ever suffered to 
 interfere with his action. He would take charge 
 of a numerous school, when he could do little 
 more than write his own name, just as he would 
 have undertaken to run a steamboat, or com- 
 mand an army, wdien he had never studied 
 eno^ineerins: or heard of stratearv. 'Nor would 
 he have failed in either capacity : a week's ap- 
 plication would make him master of a steam- 
 engine, or a proficient (after i\\Q present manner 
 of proficiency) in tactics ; and as for his school, 
 he could himself learn at night what he was to 
 teach others on the following day ! Nor was 
 this mere "conceit" — though, in some otlier 
 respects, that word, in its limited sense, was 
 not inapplicable — neither was it altogether 
 ignorant presumption ; for one of these men 
 was seldom known to fail in anytliing he under- 
 took : or, if he did fail, he was never found to 
 
THE SCHOOLMASTER. 299 
 
 be cast down by defeat, and tlie resiliency of 
 his nature justified liis confidence. 
 
 The pursuit of a certain avocation, for a long 
 period, is apt to warp one's nature to its in- 
 equalities ; and as the character gradually 
 assumes the peculiar shape, the personal ap- 
 pearance changes in a corresponding direction 
 and degree. Thus, the blacksmith, becomes 
 brawny, square, and sturdy, and the character- 
 istic swing of his arm gives tone to his whole 
 bearing: the silversmith acquires a peering, 
 cunning look, as if he were alwa3^s examining 
 delicate machinery: the physician becomes 
 solemn, stately, pompous, and mysterious, and 
 speaks like " Sir Oracle," as if he were eternally 
 administering a bread-pill, or enjoining a regi- 
 men of drugs and starvation : the lawyer 
 assumes a keen, alert, suspicious manner, as if 
 he were constantly in pursuit of a latent per- 
 jury, or feared that his adversary might discover 
 a flaw in his " case :" and so on, throughout the 
 catalogue of human avocations. But, among 
 all these, that which marks its votaries most 
 clearly, is school-teaching. 
 
 There seems to be a sort of antagonism 
 between this employment and all manner of 
 neatness, and the circle of the schoolmaster's 
 
300 WESTERN CIIAKACTERS. 
 
 female acquaintance never included the Graces. 
 Attention to personal decoration is nsnally, 
 tliougli not universally, in an inverse ratio 
 to mental garniture ; and an artisticallj-tied 
 cravat seems inconsistent with the supposition 
 of a well-stored head above it. A mind which 
 is directed toward the evolution of its own 
 powers, has but little time to waste in adorning 
 the body ; and a fashionable costume would 
 appear to cramp the intellect, as did the iron- 
 vessel the ffenius of the Arabian tale. Althou o^h, 
 therefore, there are numerous exceptions — per- 
 sons whose externals are as elegant as their 
 pursuits are intellectual — men of assiduously- 
 cultivated minds are apt to be careless of ap- 
 pearances, and the principle applies, with espe- 
 cial force, to those whose business it is to develop 
 the minds of others. 
 
 Nor was the schoolmaster of early days in 
 the west, an exception to the rule. He might 
 not be as learned, nor as purely intellectual, as 
 some of our modern college-professors, but he 
 was as ungraceful, and as awkwardly clad, as 
 the most slovenly of them all. Indeed, he came 
 of a stock which has never been noted for any 
 of the lighter accomplishments, or '' carnal 
 graces ;" for at no period of its eventful history, 
 has the puritan type been a remarkable elegant 
 
THE SCTTOOLMASTER. 301 
 
 one. The men so named have been better 
 known for bravery than taste, for zeal tlian 
 polish; and since tliere is always a corre- 
 spondence between habits of thought and feeling 
 and the external appearance, the physique of 
 the race is more remarkable for rioror of muscle 
 and angularity of outline, than for accuracy of 
 proportion or smoothness of finish. ^N^either 
 Apollo nor Adonis was in any way related to 
 the family ; and if either had been, the proba- 
 bility is that his kindred would have disowned 
 him. 
 
 Properly to represent his lineage, therefore, 
 the schoolmaster could be neither dandy nor 
 dancing-master; and, as if to hold him to his 
 integrity, nature had omitted to give him any 
 temptation, in his own person, to assume either 
 of these respectable characters. The tailor that 
 could shape a coat to fit his shoulders, never 
 yet handled shears ; and he would have been as 
 ill at ease, in a pair of fashionable pantaloons, 
 as if they had been lined with chestnut-burrs. 
 He was generally above the medium height, 
 with a very decided stoop, as if in the liabit of 
 carrying burthens; and a long, high nose, with 
 light blue eyes, and coarse, uneven hair, of a 
 faded weather-stain color, gave his face the 
 expression answering to this lathy outline. 
 
302 WESTERN CnAr.ACTEES. 
 
 TlioTigli never very slender, he was always thin : 
 as if he had been flattened ont in a rolling-mill ; 
 and rotundity of corporation was a mode of 
 development not at all characteristic. His com- 
 plexion was seldom florid, and not often de- 
 cidedly pale ; a sort of sallow discoloration was 
 its prevailing hue, like that which marks the 
 countenance of a consumer of " coarse" whiskey 
 and strong tobacco. But these failings were 
 not the cause of his cadaverous look — for a 
 faithful representative of the class held them 
 both in commendable abhorrence — they were 
 not the vices of his nature. 
 
 There was a subdivision of the class, a sec- 
 ondary type, not so often observed, but common 
 enough to entitle it to a brief notice. He was, 
 generall}^, short, square, and thick — the latitude 
 bearing a better proportion to the longitude than 
 in his lank brother — but never approaching 
 anything like roundness. With this attractive 
 figure, he had a complexion of decidedly bilious 
 darkness, and what is commonly called a " dish- 
 face." His nose was depressed between the 
 eyes, an arrangement which dragged the point 
 upward in the most cruel manner, but gave it 
 an expression equally ludicrous and impertinent. 
 A pair of small, round, black eyes, encompassed 
 
\ 
 
 THE SCITOOLM ASTER. 303 
 
 — like two little feiulal fortresses, eacli by its 
 moat — with a circle of yelL>wisli wliite, peered 
 out from under brows like battlements. Coarse, 
 black hair, always cut short, and standing erect, 
 80 as to present something the appearance of 
 a chevaux de frise., protected a hard, round 
 head — a shape most appropriate to his lineage 
 — while, with equal propriety, ears of corre- 
 sponding magnitude stood boldly forth to assert 
 their claim to notice. 
 
 Both these types were distinguished for large 
 feet, which no boot could enclose, and hands 
 broad beyond the compass of any glove. ^Neither 
 was ever known to get drunk, to grow fat, to 
 engage in a game of chance, or to lose his ap- 
 petite : it became the teacher of '' ingenuous 
 youth" to preserve an exemplary bearing before 
 those whom he was endeavoring to benefit; 
 wdiile respectable " appearances," and proper 
 appreciation of the good things of life, were 
 the alj^ha and omega of his system of morality. 
 
 But the schoolmaster — and we now include 
 both subdivisions of the class — was not deficient 
 as an example in many other things, to all wlio 
 wished to learn the true principles of living. 
 Among other things, he was distinguished for 
 a rigid, iron-bound economy : a characteristic 
 
304 WESTERN CITAEACTERS. 
 
 wliicli it might have been well to impart to 
 many of his pupils. But that which tlie discreet 
 master denominated jprudi^nce^ the extravagant 
 and wrong-headed scholar was inclined to term 
 meanness : and historical truth compels us to 
 admit, that the rigor of grim economy some- 
 times wore an aspect of questionable austerity. 
 ^Notwithstanding this, however, when we reflect 
 upon the scanty compensation afforded the 
 benefactor of the rising generation, we can not 
 severely blame his penurious tenacity any more 
 than we can censure an empty wine-cask for not 
 giving forth the nectar wliich we have never 
 poured into it. If, accordingly, he was out at 
 the elbows, we are bound to conclude that it 
 was because he had not the money to buy a new 
 coat ; and if he never indulged himself in any 
 of the luxuries of life, it was, probabl}^ because 
 the purchase of its necessaries had already 
 brought him too near the bottom of his purse. 
 
 He was always, moreover, " a close calcu- 
 lator," and, with a wisdom worthy of all imita- 
 tion, never mortgaged the future for the con- 
 venience of the present. Indeed, this power 
 of " calculation" was not only a talent 1)nt a 
 passion : 3^011 would have tlionglit tliat liis ])ro- 
 genitors had been arithmeticians since tlie time 
 of Noah ! He could " figure up" any proposi- 
 
H 
 
 THE SCHOOLMASTER. 305 
 
 tion whatsoever: but lie was especially great 
 upon the question, how much lie could save 
 from his scanty salary, and yet live to the end 
 of tlie year. 
 
 In fact, it was only living that he cared for. 
 The n&efal, with him, was always superior to 
 the ornamental ; and whatever was not abso- 
 lutely necessary, he considered wasteful and 
 extiavagant. Even the profusion of western 
 hospitality was, in his'eyes, a crime against the 
 law of prudence, and he would as soon have 
 forgiven a breach of good morals as a violation 
 of this, his favorite rule. 
 
 As might have been expected, he carried this 
 principle with him into the schoolroom, and was 
 very averse to teaching anytliing beyond what 
 would certainly " pay." He rigidly eschewed 
 embellishment, and adorned his pupils with no 
 graceful accomplishments. It might be that he 
 never tauo^ht anvthino^ above the useful branches 
 of education, because he had never learned 
 more himself; but it is certain that he would 
 not have imparted merely polite learning, had 
 his own trainiug enabled him to do so : for he 
 had, constitutionnlly, a high contempt for all 
 "flimsy" things, and, moreover, he was not em- 
 ployed or paid to teach rhetoric or hellcs-Icttrcs^ 
 and, " on j^rinciple," he never gave more in re- 
 
306 WESTEEN CHARACTERS. 
 
 turn than the value of the money he re- 
 ceiv^ed. 
 
 With this reservation, his duties were always 
 thoroughly performed, for neither by nature, 
 education, nor lineage, was he likely to slight 
 any recognised obligation. He devoted his time 
 and talents to his school, as completely as if he 
 had derived from it the income of a bishop ; and 
 the iron constitution, of both body and mind, pe- 
 culiar to his race, enabled him to endure a greater 
 amount of continuous application than any other 
 man. Indeed, his powers of endurance w^ere 
 quite surprising, and the fibre of his mind was 
 as tough as that of his body. Even upon a 
 quality so valuable as this, however, he never 
 prided himself; for, excepting the boast of race, 
 which was historical and not unjustifiable, he 
 liad no pride. He might be a little vain ; and, 
 in what he said and did, more especially in its 
 manner, there might occasionally be a shade of 
 self-conceit : for he certainly entertained no 
 mean opinion of himself. This might be a little 
 obtrusive, too, at times ; for he had but slight 
 veneration for men, or their feelings, or opinions ; 
 and he would sometimes pronounce a judgment 
 in a tone of superiority justly oftensive. But 
 he possessed the uncommon virtue of sincerity : 
 lie thoroughly believed in the ijifallibility of liis 
 
THE SCnOOLM ASTER. 307 
 
 own conclusions ; and for tfiis tlic loftiness of 
 Lis tone might be forgiven. 
 
 The most important of the opinions thus ex- 
 pressed, were upon religious subjects, for Jews, 
 puritans, and Spaniards, have always been very 
 decided controversialists. His theology was 
 grim, solemn, and angular, and he was as 
 combative as one of Cromwell's disputatious 
 troopers. In his capacious pocket, he always 
 carried a copy of the ^N'ew Testament — as, of 
 old, the carnal controvertists bore a sword 
 buckled to tlie side. Thus armed, he was a 
 genuine polemical "swash-buckler," and would 
 whip out his Testament, as the bravo did his 
 weapon, to cut you in two without ceremony. 
 He could carve you into numerous pieces, and 
 season you with scriptural salt and pe])per ; and 
 he would do it with a gusto so serious, that it 
 would have been no unreasonable appi ehension 
 tliat he intended to eat you afterward. And 
 the value of his triumph was enhanced, too, 1)y 
 the consideration that it was won by no mere- 
 tricious graces or rlietorical flourislies ; for the 
 ease of his gesticulation was such as you see in 
 the arms of a windmill, and his enunciation was 
 as nasal and monotonous as that of the Reverend 
 Eleazer Poundtext, under whose ministrations 
 he had been brought up in all godliness. 
 
308 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 
 
 But he possessed other accomplishments be- 
 side those of tlie polemic. He was not, it is 
 true, overloaded with the learning of " the 
 schools" — was, in fact, quite ignorant of some 
 of the branches of knowledge vvhfch he im- 
 parted to his pnpils : yet this was never allowed 
 to become apparent, for as we have intimated, 
 he would fi-equentlj himself acquire, at niglit, 
 the lessons which he was to teach on the 
 morrow. But time was seldom wasted among 
 the people from whom he sprang, and this want 
 of preparation denoted that his leisure hours 
 had been occupied in possessing himself of other 
 acquirements. Among these, the most elegant, 
 if not the most useful, was music, and his 
 favorite instrument was the flute. 
 
 In " David Copperfield," Dickens describes 
 a certain flute-playing tutor, b}^ the name of 
 Mell, concerning Avhom, and the rest of man- 
 kind, he expresses the rash opinion, "after 
 many years of reflection," that "nobody ever 
 could have played worse." But Dickens never 
 saw Strongfaith Lippincott, the schoolmaster, 
 nor heard his lugubrious flute, and he therefore 
 knows nothing of the superlative degree of de- 
 testable playing. 
 
 There are instruments upon which even an 
 unskilful performer may make tolerable music, 
 
THE SCHOOLMASTER. 309 
 
 "but the flute is not one of tlieiii — the man who 
 murders that^ is a malefactor entitled to no 
 " benefit of clergy :" and our schoolmaster did 
 murder it in the most inhuman manner ! But, 
 let it be said in mitigation of his offence, he had 
 never received the benefit of any scientific 
 teaching — he had not been "under the tuition 
 of the celebrated Signor Wheeziana," nor had 
 he profited by "the invaluable instructions of 
 the unrivalled Bellowsblauer" — and it is very 
 doubtful whether he would have gained much 
 advantage from them, had he met the oppor- 
 tunity. 
 
 He knew that, in order to make a noise on 
 the flute, or, indeed, anywhere else, it was 
 necessary to hlow^ and blow he did, like Boreas ! 
 He always carried the instrument in his pocket, 
 and on being asked to play — a piece of polite- 
 ness for which he always looked — he dre^^'♦it 
 out with the solemnity of visage with wdiich a 
 tender-hearted sheriff produces a death^varrant, 
 and while he screwed the joints together, sighed 
 blasts like a furnace. He usually deposited 
 himself upon the door-sill — a favorite seat for 
 him — and collecting the younger members of 
 the family about him, thence poured forth his 
 strains of concentrated mourn fulness. 
 
 He invariably selected the most melancholy 
 
310 WESTERN CHAPwACTEES. 
 
 times, playing, with a more profound solemnity, 
 the gloomiest psalms and lamentations. When 
 he ventured upon secular music, he never per- 
 formed anytliing more lively than " The Misle- 
 toe Bough," or "Barbara Allen," and into each 
 he threw a spirit so much more dismal than the 
 original, as almost to induce his hearers to 
 imitate the example of the disconsolate " Bar- 
 bara," and " turn their faces to the wall" in 
 der^pair of being ever again able to muster a 
 smile ! 
 
 He was not a scientific musician, then — for- 
 tunately for his usefulness — because thorough 
 musicians are generally "good-for-nothing" 
 else. But music was not a science among the 
 pioneers, though the undertone of melancholy 
 feeling, to which all sweet sounds appeal, was 
 as easily reached in them as in any other people, 
 llfieir wants in this, as in other things, were very 
 easily satisfied — they wei'e susceptible of pleas- 
 ure from anything which was in the least com- 
 mendable : and not feeling obliged, by any 
 captious canon, to condemn nine true notes, be- 
 cause of the tenth false one, they allowed them- 
 selves to enjoy the best music they could get, 
 without thinking of the damage done their 
 musical ainl critical reputation. 
 
 But his flute was not the only means of 
 
THE SCIIOOL:\r ASTER. 311 
 
 pleasing witliin tlie sclioolmaster's reach : for 
 he could flatter as well as if the souls of ten 
 courtiers had transmigrated into his single body. 
 He might not do it quite so gracefully as one 
 of these, nor with phrases so well-chosen, or so 
 correctly pronounced, but what he said was 
 always cunningly adapted to the character of 
 the person wdiom he desired to move. lie had 
 " a deal of candied courtesy," especially for the 
 women ; and though his sturdy manhood and 
 the excellent opinion of himself — both of wliich 
 came to him from his ancestry — usuall}^ pre- 
 served him from the charge of servility, he was 
 sometimes a " cozener" whose conscience annoy- 
 ed him with very few scruples. Occasionally 
 he might be seen fawning u]Don the rich ; but it 
 was not Avith him — as it usually is with the 
 parasites of w^ealthy men — because he thought 
 Dives more respectable, but more useful, on 
 account of his money : the opulent possessed 
 what the indigent wanted, and the shortest road 
 to the goal of Cupidity, lay through the region 
 of Yanity. Tliere was none of that servility 
 which Mr. Carlyle has attempted to dignify with 
 the name of " hero-worship," for the rich man 
 was rather a bird to be plucked, than a " hero" 
 to be worshipped. And though it may seem 
 that I do the schoolmaster little honor by the 
 
312 WESTERN CIIARACTEES. 
 
 distinction, I can not but tliink cupidity a more 
 manl}^ trait than servility : the beast of prey a 
 more respectable animal than the hound. 
 
 But the schoolmaster's obsequiousness was 
 more in manner than in inclination, and found 
 its excuse in the dependence of his circum- 
 stances. It has been immemorially the custom 
 of tlie world, practically to undervalue his ser- 
 vices, and in all time teaching and poverty have 
 been inseparable companions. ITobody ever 
 cared how poorly he was clad, how laborious 
 his life, or how few his comforts ; and if he 
 failed to attend to his own interests by all 
 the arts in his power, no one, certainly, would 
 perform the office for him. He was expected to 
 make himself generally useful without being 
 particular about his compensation : he was wil- 
 ling to do the one, but was, very naturally, 
 rather averse to the other : that winch justice 
 would not give him, he managed to procure by 
 stratagem. 
 
 His manners thus acquired the characteristics 
 we have enumerated, with also others. He was, 
 for example, very officious ; a peculiarity which 
 might, perhaps, be derived from his parentage, 
 but which was never repressed by his occupa- 
 tion. The desire to make himself agreeable, 
 and his high opinion of his ability to do so, ren- 
 
THE SCHOOLMASTER. 313 
 
 dered his tone and bearing very familiar; but 
 this was, also, a trait which he shared with his 
 race, and one which has contributed, as much 
 as any other, to bring the people called 
 " Yankees" into contempt in the west. The 
 men of that section are not themselves reserved, 
 and hate nothing more than ceremonious polite- 
 ness : but they like to be the first to make ad- 
 vances, and their demonstrations are all hearty, 
 blunt, and open. They therefore disliked any- 
 thing which has an insinuating tone, and the 
 man who attempts to ingratiate himself with 
 them, whether it be by elaborate arts or sidelong 
 familiarity, at once arms them against them. 
 
 The schoolmaster was inquisitive, also, and 
 to that western men most decidedly object. 
 They have little curiosity themselves, and seldom 
 ask impertinent questions. When they do so, 
 it is almost always for the purpose of insulting 
 the man to whom they are put, and never to 
 make themselves agreeable. The habit of ask- 
 ing numerous questions was, therefore, apt to 
 prejudice them against men whose characteris- 
 tics might be, in other respects, very estimable ; 
 and it must be acknowledged, that vulgar and 
 obtrusive impertinence is an unfortunate accom- 
 paniment to an introduction. But the school- 
 master never meant to be impertinent, for he 
 14 
 
314: WESTERN CHAKACTEES. 
 
 was far from being quarrelsome (except with his 
 scholars), and the idea that any one could be 
 otherwise than pleased with his notice, however 
 given, never entered his mind. Though his 
 questions were, for the most part, asked to 
 gratify a constitutional curiosity, he was ac- 
 tuated in some degree, also, by the notion that 
 his condescension would be acceptably inter- 
 preted by those whom he thus favored. But, 
 like many other benevolent men, who put force 
 upon their inclinations for the benefit of their 
 neighbors, he was mistaken in his " calculation ;" 
 and where he considered himself a benefactor, 
 he was by others pronounced a " bore." The 
 fact is, he had some versatility, and, like most 
 men of various powers, he was prone to think 
 himself a much greater man than he really was. 
 He was not peculiarly fitted to shine as a 
 gallant " in hall or bower," but had he been the 
 climax of knightly qualities, the very imper- 
 sonation of beauty, grace, and accomplishment, 
 he could not have been better adapted than, in 
 his own estimation, he already was, to please 
 the fancy of a lady. He was blissfully uncon- 
 scious of every imperfection ; and displayed 
 himself before what he thouccht the admirine: 
 gaze of all dames and demoiselles^ as proudly 
 as if he had been the all-accomplished victor in 
 
THE SCnoOLMASTER. 315 
 
 some passage of arms. Yet lie carried himself, 
 in outward appearance, as meekly as the hum- 
 blest Christian, and took credit to himself ac- 
 cordingly, lie seldom pressed his advantages 
 to the utter subjugation of the sighing dames, 
 but deported himself with commendable for- 
 bearance toward the weak and defenceless whom 
 his perfections had disarmed. He was as mer- 
 ciful as he was irresistible : as considerate as he 
 was beautiful. 
 
 "What a saint of a knight is the knight of Saint Johul" 
 
 Tlie personal advantages which he believed 
 made him so dangerous to the peace of woman, 
 were counteracted, thus, by his saintly piety. 
 For — as it became him to be, both in the char- 
 acter of a man, and in that of a descendant of 
 the puritans — he was always habited in "the 
 livery of heaven." Some ill-natured and sus- 
 picious people, it is true, were inclined to call 
 his exemplary " walk" hypocritical, and to stig- 
 matise his pious " conversation" as cant. But 
 the ungodly world has always persecuted the 
 righteous, and the schoolmaster was correct in 
 attributing their sneers to the rebuke which his 
 example gave to their wickedness, and to make 
 " capital" out of the " persecution." And wlio 
 shall blame him — when in the weary intervals 
 
316 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 
 
 of a laborious and thankless profession, fatigue 
 repressed enthusiasm — if he sometimes eked 
 out the want of inspiration by a godly snuffle ? 
 True piety reduces even the weapons of the 
 scorner to the service of religion, and the citadel 
 of the Gloomy Kingdom is bombarded with the 
 artillery of Satan ! Thus, the nose, which is so 
 serviceable in the production of the devilish and 
 unchristian sneer, is elevated by a saintlike 
 zeal, to the expression of a devout whine : and 
 this I believe to be the only satisfactory explana- 
 tion which has ever been given, of the con- 
 nection, in so many good men, between the 
 nasal and the religious I 
 
 But the schoolmaster usually possessed gen- 
 uine religious feeling, as well as a pious manner; 
 and, excepting an occasional display of heredi- 
 tary, and almost unconscious, cunning, he lived 
 " a righteous and upright life." 
 
 The process of becoming a respectable and 
 respected citizen was a very short and simple one 
 — and whether the schoolmaster designed to re- 
 main only a lord of the ferrule, or casting the 
 insignia of his office beliind him, to seek higher 
 things, he was never slow in adopting it. 
 Among his scholars, there were generally half- 
 
THE SCHOOLMASTER. 317 
 
 a-dozen or more young women — marriageable 
 daughters of substantial men ; and from this 
 number he selected, courted, and espoused, some 
 healthy, buxom girl, the heiress of a considera- 
 ble plantation or a quantity of " wild land." 
 He always sought tliese two requisites combined 
 — for he was equally fond of a fine person and 
 handsome estate. Upon the land, he generally 
 managed to find an eligible town-site ; and, 
 being a perfect master of the art of building 
 cities on paper, and puffing them into celebrity, 
 his sales of town-lots usually brought him a 
 competent fortune. As years rolled on, his sub- 
 stance increased with the improvement of the 
 country — the rougher points of his character 
 were gradually rubbed down — age and gray 
 hairs thickened upon his brow — honors, troops 
 of friends, and numerous children, gathered 
 round him — and the close of his career found 
 him respected in life and lamented in death. 
 His memory is a monument of what honesty 
 and industry, even without worldly advantages, 
 may always accomplish. 
 
 [Note. — A friend expresses a doubt whether I have not made 
 the foregoing portrait too hard-featured for historical accuracy ; 
 and, by way of fortifying his opinion, points to illustrious ex- 
 amples of men who have taught schools in their youth — 
 Benators and statesmen — some of whom now hold prominent 
 
318 WESTERN CHARACTEES. 
 
 positions before the people, even for the highest offices in their 
 gift. But these men never belonged to the class which I have 
 Attempted to portray. Arriving in this country in youth, 
 without the means of subsistence — in many cases, long before 
 they had acquired the professions which afterward made them 
 famous — they resorted to school-teaching as a mere expedient 
 for present support, without any intention to make it the occu- 
 pation of their lives, or the means of their advancement. 
 They were moved by an ambition which looked beyond it, and 
 they invariably abandoned it so soon as they had prepared 
 themselves for another pursuit. 
 
 But the genuine character took it up as a permanent em- 
 ployment — he looked to it not only as a means of temporary 
 subsistence, but as a source, by some of the direct or indirect 
 channels which we have indicated, of lasting income — and he 
 never threw it up until he had already secured that to which 
 the other class, when they abandoned the occupation, were still 
 looking forward. In the warfare against Ignorance, therefore, 
 these, whom we have described, were the regular army, while 
 the exceptions were but volunteers for a limited period, and, 
 in the muster-roll of permanent strength, they are, therefore, 
 not included.] 
 
'I' II r: SCHOOL M [ ST k iisi 
 
IX. 
 
 THE SCHOOLMISTKESS. 
 
 "And yet I love thee not — thy brow 
 Is but the sculptor's mould : 
 It wants a shade, it wants a glow — 
 It is less fair than cold." L E. L. 
 
 But the family of the pioneer consisted of 
 girls as well as boys ; and though the former 
 were never so carefully educated as the latter, 
 they were seldom allowed to go wholly un- 
 taught. 
 
 The more modern system, which separates 
 the sexes while infants, and never suffers them 
 to come together again until they are " mar- 
 riageable," was not then introduced ; and we 
 think it would have been no great misfortune 
 to tlie country had it remained in Spain, whence 
 it would seem to have been imported. Children 
 of both sexes were intended to grow up together 
 — to be educated in company — at least until 
 they have readied the points where their paths 
 naturally diverge, for thus only can they bo 
 
320 WESTKKN CIIAEACTEKS. 
 
 most useful to eacli other, in tlie duties, trials, and 
 struggles, of after life. The artificial refinement 
 which teaches a little ghi that a boy is some- 
 thing to be dreaded — a sort of begist of prey — • 
 before she recognises any difference, save in 
 dress, can never benefit her at best ; for by-and- 
 by she will discover the falsehood : the very 
 instincts of her nature would unveil it, did she 
 learn it in no other way : and as action and re- 
 action are equal, the rebound may cause her to 
 entertain opinions altogether too favorable to 
 those v/hom she has so foolishly been taught to 
 fear. 
 
 ISTor is the effect of such a system likely to 
 be any better upon the other sex : for it is asso- 
 ciation with females (as early as possible, too, 
 all the better), which softens, humanizes, graces, 
 and adorns the masculine character. The boy 
 who has been denied such association — the in- 
 cidents to Vv'hose education have made him shy, 
 as so many are, even of little girls — is apt to 
 grow uj) morose and selfish, ill-tempered, and 
 worse mannered. "When the impulses of his 
 developing nature finally force him into female 
 society, he goes unprepared, and comes away 
 without profit: his ease degenerates into famili- 
 arity, his conversation is, at best, but washy 
 sentimentalism, and the association, until the 
 
THE SCIIOOLMISTKESS. 321 
 
 accumuUited rust of youtli is worn away, is of 
 veiy doubtful beneiit to both parties. Indeed, 
 parents who thus govern and educate their 
 children, can find no justification for the prac- 
 tice, until they can first so alter the course of 
 Kature, as to establish the law, that each family 
 shall be conq^osed altogether of girls, or shall 
 consist exclusively of boys I 
 
 But these modern refinements had not ob- 
 tained currency, at the period of which we are 
 writing ; nor was any such nonsense the motive 
 to the introduction of female teachers. But 
 one of the lessons learned by observation of the 
 domestic circle, and particularly of the influ- 
 ence of the mother over her children, was the 
 principle, that a woman can teach males of a 
 certain age quite as well as a man, m\d females 
 much hetter ; and that, since the school-teacher 
 stands, for the time in the place of the parent, 
 a mistress was far moi'e desirable, especially for 
 the girls, than a master. Hence, the latter liad 
 exercised his vocation in the west, but a few 
 years, before he was followed l)y the former. 
 
 lN"ew England was the great nursery of this 
 class, as it was of so many others, transplanted 
 beyond the Alleganies. Emigration, and the 
 14* 
 
322 WESTEEN CIIAEACTEES. 
 
 enticements and casualties of a seafaring life — 
 drawing the men into their appropriate chan- 
 nels of enterprise and adventure, had there re- 
 duced their number below that of the women — 
 thus remitting many of the latter, to other than 
 the usual and natural occupations of " the sex." 
 Matrimony became a remote possibility to large 
 numbers — attention to household matters gave 
 place to various kinds of light labor ^ — and, since 
 they were not likely to have progeny of their 
 own to rear, many resorted to the teaching of 
 children belonging to others. Idleness was a 
 rare vice; and New England girls — to their 
 honor be it spoken^- have seldom resembled 
 " the lilies of the field," in aught, save the fair- 
 ness of their complexions ! They have never 
 displayed much squeamishness — about work : 
 and if they could not benefit the rising genera- 
 tion in a maternal, were walling to make them- 
 selves useful in a tutorial capacity. The peo- 
 ple of that enlightened section, have always 
 possessed the learning necessary to appreciate, 
 and the philanthropy implied in the w^ish to 
 dispel, the benighted ignorance of all other 
 quarters of the world ; and thus a competent 
 number of them have ever been found willing 
 to give up the comforts of home, for the benefit 
 of the " barbarous west." 
 
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS. 323 
 
 The sclioolmistress, tlien, generally came from 
 the "cradle" of intelligence, as well as "of lib- 
 erty," beyond the Hudson ; and, in the true 
 spirit of benevolence, she carried her blessings 
 (herself the greatest) across the mountain bar- 
 rier, to bestow them, gratis^ upon the spiritual- 
 ly and materially need}^, in the valley of the 
 Mississippi. Her vocation, or, as it w^ould now 
 be called, her " mission" was to teach an im- 
 pulse not only given by her education, but be- 
 longing to her nature. She had a constitutional 
 tendency toward it — indeed, a genius for it; 
 like that which impels one to painting, another 
 to sculpture — this to a learned profession, that 
 to a mechanical trade. And so perfectly was 
 she adapted to it, that " the ignorant people 
 of the w^est" not recognising her " divine ap- 
 pointment," were often at a loss to conjecture, 
 who, or whether anybody, could have taught 
 her ! 
 
 For that same " ignorant," and too often, un- 
 grateful people, she w^as full of tender pity — 
 the yearning of the single-hearted missionary, 
 for the welfare of his flock. They were steeped 
 in darkness, but she carried the light — nay, she 
 was the light! and with a benignity, often 
 evinced by self-sacrifice — she poured it gra- 
 ciously over the land — 
 
324 WESTERN CXiAKAClTiSS. 
 
 "Heaven doth with us, as we with torches do: 
 ISTot light them for themselves ; for if our virtues 
 Did not go forth of us, 't were all alike 
 As if we had them not." 
 
 For the good of the race, or of any (male) in- 
 dividual, she would immolate herself, even upon 
 the altar of Hymen ; and, since the number, 
 who were to be benefited by such self-devote- 
 ment, was small in JSTew England, but large in 
 the west, she did well to seek a field for her 
 benign dedication, beyond the Alleganies ! 
 Honor to the all-daring self-denial, which 
 brought to the forlorn bachelor of the west, a 
 companion in his labors, a solace in his afflic- 
 tions, and a mother to his children ! 
 
 Her name was invariably Grace, Charity, or 
 Prudence ; and, if names had been always de- 
 scriptive of the personal qualities of those who 
 bore them, she would have been entitled to all 
 three. 
 
 In the early ages of the world, names were, 
 or, at least, were supposed to be, fair exponents 
 of the personal characters of those, upon whom 
 they were bestowed. But, tJien^ the qualities 
 must be manifested, before the name could be 
 earned, so that all who had never distinguished 
 themselves, in some way, were said to bo 
 
THE SCHOOLMISTEESS. S25 
 
 "nameless." In more modern times, however, 
 an improvement upon this system was intro- 
 duced : the character was anticipated, and pa- 
 rents called their children what they loished 
 them to be, in the hope that they would grow 
 to the standard thus imposed. And it is no 
 doubt, true, that names thus bestowed had 
 much influence in the development of charac- 
 ter — on the same principle, upon which the 
 boards, to which Indian w^omen lash tlieir infants 
 soon after birth, have much to do with the erect 
 carriage of the mature savage. Such an appel- 
 lation is a perpetual memento of parental coun- 
 sels — a substitute for barren precept — an end- 
 less exhortation to Grace, Charity, or Prudejice. 
 I do not mean, that calling a boy Cicero will 
 certainly make him an orator, or that all Jere- 
 miahs are necessarily prophets ; nor is it im- 
 probable, that the same peculiarities in the 
 parents, which dictate these expressive names, 
 may direct the characters of the children, by 
 controlling their education ; but it is unques- 
 tionable, that the characteristics, and even the 
 fortunes of the man, are frequently daguerreo- 
 typed by a name given in infancy. There is 
 not a little wisdom in the advice of Sterne to 
 godfathers — not "to Nicodemus a man into 
 nothing." — "Harsh names," says D'Israeli, the 
 
326 WESTERN CIIAEACTERS. 
 
 elder, " will liave, in spite of all our pliilosopliy, 
 a painful and ludicrous effect on our ears and 
 our associations ; it is vexatious, that the soft- 
 ness of delicious vowels, or the ruggedness of 
 inexorable consonants, should at all be connect- 
 ed with a man's happiness, or even have an in- 
 fluence on his fortune." 
 
 " That which we call a rose, 
 Bj any other name would smell as sweet ;" 
 
 but this does not touch the question, whether, 
 if it had not smelt as sweet we would not have 
 given it some other name. The celebrated 
 demagogue, Wilkes, is reported to have said, 
 that, "without knowing the comparative mer- 
 its of the two poets, we would have no hesita- 
 tion in preferring John Drjden to Elkanah Set- 
 tle, /*r^??^ the names onlyP And the reason of 
 this truth is to be found in the fact, that our 
 impressions of both men and things depend upon 
 associations, often beyond our penetration to de- 
 tect — associations with which sounds depending 
 on hidden laws, has quite as much to do, as sense. 
 
 Among those who have carried the custom 
 of picturesque or expressive naming, to an ex- 
 tent bordering on the ridiculous, were the hard- 
 headed champions of the true church-militant, 
 the English puritans — as Hume, the bigoted 
 
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS. 327 
 
 old tory, rather ill-iiatnredly testifies ! And tlie 
 puritans of Neio England — \vliatever advan- 
 cing intelligence may have made them in the 
 present — were, for a long time, faithful repre- 
 sentatives of the oddities, as well as of the vir- 
 tues, of their fathers. 
 
 And, accordingly, we find the schoolmistress 
 — being a descendent of the Jason's-crew, who 
 landed from the Argo-May flower, usually bear- 
 ing a name thus significant, and manifesting, 
 even at her age, traits of character justifying 
 the compellation. What that age precisely %cas^ 
 could not always be known ; indeed, a lady's 
 age is generally among indeterminate things ; 
 and it has, very properlj^, come to be consid- 
 ered ungallant, if not impertinent, to be curious 
 nj^on so delicate a subject, A man has no more 
 right to know how many years a woman has, 
 than how many skirts she wears ; and, if he have 
 any anxiety about the matter, in either case, 
 his eyes must be the only questioners. The 
 principle upon which the women themselves 
 proceed, in growing old, seems to be parallel 
 to the law of gravitation : when a storm, for 
 example, is thrown into the air the higher it 
 goes the slower it travels ; and the momentum 
 toward Heaven, given to a woman at lier birth, 
 appears to decrease in about the same ratio. 
 
328 WESTERN CUAEACTERS. 
 
 We will not be so ungallant, then, as to in- 
 quire too curiously into the age of the school- 
 mistress; but, without disparagement to her 
 youthfulness, we may be allowed to conjecture 
 that, in order to fit her so well for the duties 
 of her responsible station (and incline her to 
 undertake such labors), a goodly number of 
 years must needs have been required. Yet she 
 bore time well ; for, unless married in the mean- 
 while, at thirty, she was as youthful in man- 
 ners, as at eighteen. 
 
 But this is not surprising : for, even as early 
 as her twelfth year, she had much the appear- 
 ance of a mature woman — something like that 
 noticed in young quakers, by Clarkson* — and 
 her figure belonged to that rugged type, which 
 is adapted to bear, unscathed, more than the 
 ravages of time. She was never above the me- 
 dium height, for the rigid rule of economy 
 seemed to apply to flesh and blood, as to all 
 other things pertaining to her race ; at all events, 
 material had not been wasted in giving her ex- 
 tra longitude — at the ends. Between the ex- 
 tremities, it might be diff'erent — for she was 
 generally very long-waisted. But this might 
 be accounted for in the process of flattening 
 
 * Author of the Life of William Penn, whose accuracy has 
 lately been questioned. 
 
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS. 329 
 
 out: for like her compeer, the schoolmaster, 
 she had much more breadth than thickness. 
 She was somewhat angular, of course, and rath- 
 er bony ; but this was only the natural corre- 
 spondence, between the external development, 
 and the mental and moral organization. Her 
 eyes were usually blue, and, to speak with ac- 
 curacy, a little cold and grayish, in their ex])res- 
 sion — like the sky on a bleak morning in Au- 
 tumn. Her forehead was very higli and prom- 
 inent, having, indeed, an exposed look, like a 
 shelterless knoll in an open prairie : but, not 
 content with this, though the hair above it was 
 often thin, she usually dragged the latter forci- 
 bly back, as if to increase the altitude of the 
 former, by extending the skin. Her mouth 
 was of that class called "primped," but was 
 filled with teeth of respectable dimensions. 
 
 Her arms were long, and, indeed, a little 
 skinny, and she swung them very freely when 
 she walked ; while hands, of no insignificant 
 size, dangled at the extremities, as if the joints 
 of her wrists were insecure. She had large 
 feet, too, and in walking her toes were assidu- 
 ously turned out. She had, however, almost 
 always one very great attraction — a fine, clear, 
 healthy complexion — and the only blemishes 
 upon this, that I have ever observed, were a 
 
830 WESTERN CHARACTEES. 
 
 little red on the tip of her nose and on the points 
 of her cheek-h 
 lier upper lip. 
 
 of her cheek-bones, and a good deal of down on 
 
 In manners and bearing, she was brisk, prim, 
 and sometimes a little '^fidgety," as if she was 
 conscious of sitting on a dusty chair; and she 
 had a way of searching nervously for her pocket, 
 as if to find a handkerchief with which to brush 
 it off. She was a very fast walker, and an 
 equally rapid talker — taking usually very short 
 steps, as if afraid of splitting economical skirts, 
 but using very long words, as if entertaining no 
 such apprehension about her throat. Her gait 
 was too rapid to be graceful, and her voice too 
 sharp to be musical; but she was quite un- 
 conscious of these imperfections, especially of 
 the latter : for at church — I beg pardon of her 
 enlightened ancestors ! I should say at " meet- 
 ing'^ — her notes of praise were heard high over 
 all the tumult of primitive singing ; and, with 
 her chin thrown out, and her shoulders drawn 
 back, she looked, as well as sounded, the imper- 
 sonation oim,elody^ as contra-distinguished from 
 harmony I 
 
 But postponing, for the present, our considera- 
 tion of her qualifications as a teacher, we find 
 
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS. 331 
 
 that lier characteristics were still more respecta- 
 ble and valuaLle as a private member of society. 
 And in this relation, her most prominent trait, 
 like that of her brother teacher, was her stain- 
 less piety. In this respect, if in no other, 
 women are always more sincere and single- 
 hearted than men — perhaps because the dis- 
 tribution of social duties gives her less temp- 
 tation to hypocrisy — and even the worldly, 
 strong-minded, and self-reliant daughter of the 
 church-hating Puritan-Zion, displayed a ten- 
 dency toward genuine religious feeling.* 
 
 But in our subject, this was not a mere bias, 
 but a constant, unflagging sentiment, an every- 
 day manifestation. She was as warm in the 
 cause of religion on one day as upon another, 
 in small things as in great — as zealous in the 
 repression of all unbecoming and ungodly levity, 
 as in the eradication of positive vice. Life was 
 too solemn a thing with her to admit of thought- 
 less amusements — it was entirely a stato of 
 probation, not to be enjoyed in itself, or for 
 itself, but purgatorial, remedial, and prepara- 
 
 * By this form of expression, wliich niny seem awkward, I 
 mean to convey this idea : That consistency of character wouhl 
 seem to preclude any heartfelt reverence in the descendant of 
 those whose piety was manifested more in the hatred of earthly, 
 than in the love of heavenly, things. 
 
332 WESTERN CHARACTEKS. 
 
 toiy. She liated all devices of pleasure as her 
 ancestors did the abominations of popery. A 
 fiddle she could tolerate only in the shape of a 
 bass-viol ; and dancing, if practised at all, must 
 be called " calisthenics." The drama was to 
 her an invention of the Enemy of Souls — and 
 if she ever saw a play, it must be at a museum^ 
 and not within the walls of that temple of Baal, 
 the theatre. JSTone but " serious" conversation 
 was allowable, and a hearty langh was the ex- 
 pression of a spirit ripe for -the destination of 
 unforgiven sinners. 
 
 Errors in religion were too tremendous to be 
 tolerated for a moment, and the form (or rather 
 anti-form) of worship handed down by her 
 fathers, had cost too much blood and crime to 
 be oppugned. She thought Barebones's the 
 only godly parliament that ever sat, and did not 
 hate Hume half so much for his infidelity, as 
 for his ridicule of the roundheads. Her list of 
 martyrs was made up of the intruders ousted 
 by Charles's " Act of Conformity," and her 
 catalogue of saints was headed by the witch- 
 boilers of Massachusetts bay. She abhorred the 
 memory of all j^opisJi persecutions, and knew 
 no difi'erence between catholic and cannibal. 
 Her running calendar of living saints were born 
 " to inherit the earth," and heaven, too : they 
 
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS. 333 
 
 possessed a monopoly of all truth, an nnliniited 
 "indulgence" to enforce conformity, and, in 
 their zeal, an infallible safeguard against the 
 commission of error. She had no patience with 
 those who could not " see the truth ;" and he 
 who reviled the puritan mode of worship, was 
 " worse than the infidel." The only argument 
 she ever used with such, was the argumentum 
 ad hominem^ which saves the trouble of con- 
 viction by " giving over to hardness of heart." 
 Kew England was, to her, the land of Goshen 
 — whither God's people had been led by God's 
 hand — "the land of the patriarchs, where it 
 rains righteousness""^ — and all the adjacent 
 country was a land of Egyptian darkness. 
 
 She was commendably prudent in her personal 
 deportment: being thoroughly pure and cir- 
 cumspect herself, she could forgive no thought- 
 less imprudence in her sister-woman : but she 
 well-understood metaphysical distinctions, and 
 was tolerant, if not liberal, to marriageable men. 
 These she could hope to reform at some future 
 time : and she had, moreover, a just idea of the 
 w^eakness of man's nature. But being a woman, 
 and a staid and sober-minded woman, she could 
 
 * The language of a precious pamphlet, even now in circula- 
 tion in the west 
 
334 WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 
 
 never understand the power of temptation upon 
 her own sex, or the commonest impulses of high 
 spirits. Perhaps she was a little deficient in 
 charity : but, as we have seen, it was cliiefly 
 toward her female friends, and since none can 
 bear severe judgment more safely than woman, 
 her austerity did little harm. 
 
 But she sincerely regretted what she could 
 never palliate ; she hated not the guilty, though 
 she could not forgive the sin ; and no one was 
 more easily melted to tears by the faults, and 
 particularly by the follies, of the world. Wick- 
 edness is a very melancholy thing, but it is to 
 be punished as well as lamented : and like the 
 unfortunate governor who was forced to con- 
 demn his own son, she wept while she pro- 
 nounced judgment. But earthly sorrow, by 
 her, was given only to earthly faults : violations 
 of simple good morals, crimes against heavenly 
 creeds and forms (or rather the form) of worship, 
 claimed no tear. Her blood rose to fever-heat 
 at the mention of an unbeliever, and she would 
 as soon have wept for the errors of the fallen 
 angels, as for those of anti-Bobinsonians. 
 
 But though thus rigid and austere, I never 
 heard that she was at all disinclined to being 
 courted : especially if it gave her any prospect 
 
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS. 335 
 
 of being able to make herself useful as a wife, 
 either to herself, her husband, or her country. 
 She understood the art of rearing and managing 
 children, in her capacity as a teacher: she 
 was thus peculiarly well-fitted for matrimonial 
 duties, and was unwilling that the world should 
 lose the benefit of her talents. But the man 
 who courted her must do so in the most sober, 
 staid, and regulated spirit, for it was seldom any 
 unmixed romance about " love and nonsense," 
 which moved lier to the sacrifice : if she enter- 
 tained notions of that sort, they were such only 
 as could find a place in her well-balanced mind, 
 and, above all, were the subject of no raptures 
 or transports of delight. If she indulged any 
 enthusiasm, in view of the approaching change, 
 it was in the prospect of endless shirt-making, 
 and in calculations about how cheaply (not how 
 happily) she could enable her husband to live. 
 She had no squeamish delicacy about allowing 
 the world to know the scope and meaning of 
 her arrangements, and all her friends partici- 
 pated in her visions of comfort and economy. 
 False modesty was no part of her nature — and 
 her sentiment could be reduced to an algebraic 
 formula — excluding the " unknown quantities" 
 usually represented by the letters ^, c^ and d: 
 meaning " bliss," "cottages," and " devotion." 
 
336 WESTERN CHARACTEE3. 
 
 Yet, though she cared little for poetry, and 
 seldom understood the images of fancy, she was 
 not averse to a modicum of scandal in moments 
 of relaxation : for the faults of others were the 
 illustrations of her prudent maxims, and the 
 thoughtlessness of a sister was the best possible 
 text for a moral homily. The tense rigidity of 
 her character, too, sometimes required a little 
 unbending, and she had, therefore, no s^Decial 
 aversion to an occasional surreptitious novel. 
 But this she would indulge only in private ; for 
 in her mind, the worst quality of transgression 
 was its bad example ; and she never failed, in 
 public, to condemn all such things with be- 
 coming and virtuous severity. 'Nor must this 
 apparent inconsistency be construed to her dis- 
 advantage ; for her strong mind and well-forti- 
 fied morals, could withstand safely what would 
 have corrupted a large majority of those around 
 her ; and it was meet, that one whose " mission" 
 it was to reform, should thoroughly understand 
 the enemy against which she battled. And 
 these things never unfavorably aifected her life 
 and manner^, for she was as prudent in her de- 
 portment (ill-natured people say prudish) as if 
 some ancestress of hers had been deceived, and 
 left in the family a tradition of man's perfidy 
 and woman's frailty. 
 
THE SCHOULMISTKESS. 337 
 
 She was careful, then, of thiee things — her 
 clothes, her money, and her reputation : and, to 
 do her justice, the last was as spotless as the 
 first, and as much prized as the second, and that 
 is saying a good deal, both for its purity and 
 estimation. Neat, economical, and prudent, 
 were, indeed, the three capital adjectives of her 
 vocabulary, and to deserve them was her 
 eleventh commandment. 
 
 With one exception, these were the texts of 
 all her homilies, and the exception was, un- 
 luckily, one which admitted of much more 
 argument. 
 
 It was the history of the puritans. But uj^on 
 this subject, she was as dexterous a special 
 pleader as JSTeale, and as skilful, in giving a 
 false coloring to facts, as D'Aubigne. But she 
 had the advantage of these worthies in that her 
 declamation was quite honest: she had been 
 taught sincerely and heartily to believe all she 
 asserted. She was of the opinion that but two 
 respectable ships had been set afloat since the 
 world began: one of which was ISToah's ark, 
 and the other the Mayflower. She believed 
 that no people had ever endured such persecu- 
 tions as the puritans, and was especially eloquent 
 upon the subject of " ISTew England's Blarney- 
 Btone," the Rock of Plymouth. 
 15 
 
338 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 
 
 Indeed, according to the creed of lier people, 
 historical and religious, this is the only piece of 
 granite in the whole world " worth speaking of;" 
 and geologists have sadly wasted their time in 
 travelling over the world in search of the records 
 of creation, when a full epitome of everything 
 deserving to be known, existed in so small a 
 space ! All the other rocks of the earth sink 
 into insignificance, and "hide their diminished 
 heads," when compared to this mighty stone ! 
 The Rock of Lencas, from which the amorous 
 Lesbian maid cast herself disconsolate into the 
 sea, is a mere pile of dirt : the Tarpeian, whence 
 the Law went forth to the whole v\^orld for so 
 many centuries, is not fit to be mentioned in the 
 same day : the Rock of Cash el, itself, is but the 
 subject of profane Milesian oaths ; and the 
 Ledge of Plymouth is the real " Rock of Ages !" 
 It is well that every people should have some- 
 thing to adore, especially if that " something" 
 belongs exclusively to themselves. It elevates 
 their self-respect : and, for this object, even his- 
 torical fictions may be forgiven. 
 
 But, as we have intimated, in the course of 
 time the schoolmistress became a married 
 woman ; and as she gathered experience, she 
 gradually learned that 'New England is not the 
 
THE SCnOOLMISTRESS. 339 
 
 whole " moral vine^^ard," and that one might 
 be more profitably emplo^^ed than in disputing 
 about questionable points of history. Now 
 duties devolved upon her, and new responsi- 
 bilities rained fast. Instead of teaching the 
 children of other people, she now raised chil- 
 dren for other people to teach. New sources of 
 pride were found in these, and in her liusband 
 and his prosperity. She discovered that she 
 could be religious without bigotry, modest 
 without prudery, and economical without mean- 
 ness : and, profiting by the lessons thus learned, 
 she subsided into a true, faithful, and respectable 
 matron, thus, at last, fulfilling her genuine 
 
X. 
 
 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 'AH would be deemed, e'en from the cradle, fit 
 To rule in politics as well as wit : 
 The grave, the gay, the fopling, and the dunce, 
 Start up (God bless us I) statesmen all at once I" 
 
 Chukchill. 
 
 In a country where the popular breath sways 
 men to its purposes or caprices, as the wind 
 bends the weeds in a meadow, statesmanship 
 may become a system^ but can never rise to the 
 dignity of a science ', and politics, instead of 
 being an ay% is a series of arts. 
 
 A system is order without principle : a science 
 is order, based upon principle. Statesmanship 
 has to do with generalities — with the relations 
 of states, the exposition and preservation of con- 
 stitutional provisions, and with fundamental 
 organizations. Politics relates to measures, and 
 the details of legislation. The art of governing 
 is the accomplishment of the true politician : 
 
THB rOLITICIAN. 3-il 
 
 the arts of governing are the trickeries of the 
 demagogue. R'ujht is the key-note of one: 
 jpoj^ularity of the other. 
 
 The large majority of men are sufficiently 
 candid to acknowledge — at least to themselves 
 — that they are unfit for the station of lawgiver ; 
 but the vanity and jealousy begotten by par- 
 ticipation in political power, lead many of them, 
 if not actually to believe, at all events to act 
 npon the faith, that men, no more able than 
 themselves, are the best material for rulers. It 
 is a kind of compromise between their iii::>desty 
 and self-love: not barthening them with the 
 trials and responsibilities of positions for which 
 they feel incompetent, but soothing their vanity 
 by the contemplation of office-holders not at all 
 their superiors. Below a certain (or nncertain) 
 grade, therefore, political stations are usually 
 filled by men of very moderate abilities : and 
 their elevation is fiivored — indeed, often effect- 
 ed — by the very causes which should prevent 
 it. Such men are prone to thrust tliemselves 
 upon public notice, and thus secure, by persist- 
 ence and impudence, what might not be awarded 
 them on the score of merit. 
 
 It is a trite remark, that people are inclined 
 to accept a man's estimate of himself, and to 
 
342 WESTERN CHARACTEES. 
 
 put liim in possession of that place, in tlieir con- 
 sideration, which he has the hardiliood to claim. 
 And the observation is just, to this extent: if 
 the individual does not respect himself, probably 
 no one else will take that trouble. But in a 
 country where universal suffrage reigns, it may 
 be doubted whether the elevation of an ordinary 
 man indicates any recognition of tlie justice of 
 his claims. On the contrary, they may be en- 
 dorsed precisely because they are false : that is, 
 because he really possesses no other title to the 
 support of common men, than that which is 
 founded upon fellow-feeling or sympathy of 
 character. Many a man, therefore, who re- 
 ceives his election as a compliment from the 
 voters, if he understood the motives of their 
 action, would throw up his office in disgust ; for 
 in a large majority of cases, the popular choice, 
 so far from being an assertion of the candidate's 
 peculiar fitness to be singled out from among 
 his bretliren, is only a declaration that neither 
 talent nor character entitles him to the dis- 
 tinction. The cry that a man is " one of the 
 people," will bring him great strength at the 
 ballot-box: but this is a phrase which means 
 very different things, according as it is used by 
 the candidate or the voter; and, in many cases, 
 if they could thoroughly understand each other, 
 
THE roLrriciAX. 343 
 
 the latter would not give his support, and the 
 former would not ask it. 
 
 These remarks are applicable to all stages of 
 society's progress ; for, if the world were so en- 
 lightened, that, in the scale of intellect, such a 
 man as Daniel Webster could only be classed 
 as an idiot, there would still be the "ignorant 
 vulgar," the " uneducated classes." Society 
 is one entire web — albeit woven with threads 
 of wool and silk, of silver and gold : turn it as 
 you will, it must all turn together ; and if a 
 whirlwind of enlightenment should waft it to 
 the skies, although each thread would be im- 
 measurably above its present condition, the 
 relation of one to another would still be the 
 same. If the baser wool should be transmuted 
 into gold, the very same process would refine 
 and sublimate the precious metal, in a corre- 
 sponding ratio ; and the equilibrium of God's 
 appointed relations would remain undisturbed. 
 
 But it is more especially in the primitive 
 periods, before the great political truths be- 
 come household words, and while the reign of 
 law and municipal organization is a vague and 
 distant thing, that most citizens shriidv from 
 official duties. Diffidence, in this matter is, 
 
344 WESTERN CHAEACTERS. 
 
 fortunately, a disease wliicli time will alleviate 
 — a youthful weakness, which communities 
 " outgrow,'^ as children do physical defects ; 
 and, I believe, of late years, few offices have 
 '' gone begging," either east or west of the great 
 barrier of the Allegany. 
 
 In the earlier periods of its history, we have 
 seen that the western country was peculiarly 
 situated. The settlements were weak and the 
 population small ; with the exception of a few 
 narrow fields, in the vicinity of each frontier 
 fort, or stockade, the land was a wilderness, held 
 in undisturbed possession by the savages and 
 wild beasts. The great struggle, which we call 
 the devolution, but which was, in fact, only a 
 justifiable and successful rebellion, had ex- 
 hausted the force and drained the cofi*ers of the 
 feeble federal government ; had plunged the 
 infant states into enormous debts ; and the only 
 means of paying these were the boundless but 
 unclaimed lands of the west, which the same 
 causes rendered them unable to protect. The 
 scattered settlements on the Mississippi side of 
 the Alleganies, were thus left to their own 
 scanty resources ; and the distance was so 
 great, that, had the older states been able to 
 afi"ord assistance, tlie delays and losses attendant 
 upon its transmission across so wide a tract of 
 
THE POLIJICIAN. 345 
 
 wilderness, would have made it almost nuga- 
 tory. 
 
 In those times, therefore, though a few were 
 looking forward to separate political organiza- 
 tion and the erection of new states, the larger 
 number of the western people were too con- 
 stantly occupied with their defence, to give 
 much attention to internal politics. Such or- 
 ganization as they had was military, or pa- 
 triarchal: the early pioneer, who had dis- 
 tinguished himself in the first explorations of 
 the country, or by successfully leading and 
 establishing a new settlement, as he became the 
 commander of the local fort, was also tlie law- 
 giver of the community. The pressure of ex- 
 ternal danger was too close to allow a very 
 liberal democracy in government ; and, as must 
 be the case in all primitive assemblages of men, 
 the counsels and commands of him whom they 
 knew to be the most ahJe^ were always observed. 
 He who had proven himself competent to lead 
 was, therefore, the leader ipso facto and do 
 jure ; and the evidence required was the per- 
 formance of such exploits, and the display of 
 such courage and sagacity, as were necessary 
 to the defence, well-being, and protection of 
 the community. 
 
 It is obvious that no mere pretender could 
 15* 
 
346 WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 
 
 exhibit these proofs ; and that, where thej were 
 taken as the sole measure of a man's worth, 
 dexterity- with a rifle must be of more value 
 than the accomplishments of a talker — Indian- 
 fighting a more respectable occupation than 
 speech-making. Small politicians were, there- 
 fore, very small men, and saying that one had 
 " a turn for politics," would have been equiva- 
 lent to calling him a vagabond. The people 
 had neither time nor patience to listen to decla- 
 mation — the man who rose in a public assembly, 
 and called upon his neighbors to follow him in 
 avenging a wrong, made the only speech they 
 cared to hear. "Preambles and resolutions" 
 were unmeaning formalities — their "resolu- 
 tions" were taken in their own minds, and, to 
 use their own expressive words, they executed 
 them " without preamble." An ounce of lead 
 was worth more than a pound of advice : and, 
 in the vindication of justice, a " charge" of gun- 
 powder was more effectual than the most tedious 
 judicial harangue. It is, even now, a proud, 
 but well-founded boast, of western men, that 
 these traits have been transmitted to them from 
 their fathers — that they are more remarkable 
 for fighting than for loranglhig^ for acting than 
 for talking. 
 
 In such a state of society, civil oflices existed 
 
TIITi: IMLITT^'TAN'. 347 
 
 scarcely in name, and were never very eagerly 
 sought. That which makes official station de- 
 sirable is obedience to its authority, and if the 
 title of " captain" gave the idea of more abso- 
 lute power than that of " sheriff," one would 
 rather command a company of militia than the 
 ^'l^osse comitatusP Besides, the men of the 
 frontier were simple-hearted and unambitious, 
 desiring nothing so much as to be "left alone," 
 and willing to make a compact of forbearance 
 with the whole world — excepting only the In- 
 dians. They had never been accustomed to the 
 restraints of municipal regulations, they w^ere 
 innocent of the unhealthy pleasures of office- 
 holding, or the degrading impulses of office- 
 seeking. Their lives had given them little or no 
 knowledge of these things ; experience had never 
 suggested their importance, for their acquaint- 
 ance with life was, almost exclusively, such as 
 could be acquired in the woods and forest 
 pathways. 
 
 But as time rolled away, and the population, 
 of the country became more dense — as the 
 pressure of external danger was withdrawn, and 
 the necessities of defence grew less urgent — ■ 
 the rigor of military organization came gradu- 
 ally to be somewhat irksome. The seeds of 
 civil institutions began to germinate among the 
 
348 WESTEr.N CnA"RACTEE?;. 
 
 people, wliile the extending interests of com- 
 munities rerpii red corresponding enactments and 
 regulations. The instincts of social beings, love 
 of home and family, attachment to property, the 
 desire of tranquillity, and, perhaps, a leaven of 
 ambition for good estimation among neighbors, 
 all combined to oj^en men's eyes to the import- 
 ance of peaceful institutions. The day of the 
 rifle and scalping-knife passed away, and justice 
 without form — the rule of the elementary 
 strong-hand — gave place to order and legal 
 ceremony. 
 
 Then first began to appear the class of poli- 
 ticians, though, as yet, office-seeking had not 
 become a trade, nor office-holding a regular 
 means of livelihood. Politics had not acquired 
 a place among the arts, nor had its professors 
 become the teachers of the land. There were 
 few, indeed, who sought to fill civil stations; 
 and, although men's qualifications for office 
 were, probably, not any more rigidly examined 
 then than now, those who possessed the due 
 degree of prominence, either deemed them- 
 selves, or were believed by their fellow-citizens, 
 peculiarly capable of discharging such functions. 
 They were generally men who had made them- 
 selves conspicuous or useful in other capacities 
 
THE POLTTICTAN. 849 
 
 — who had become -well or favorably known to 
 their neighbors through their zeal, courngc, 
 sagacity, or public spirit. A leader of regula- 
 tors, for example, whose administration of his 
 dangerous 2:)owers had been marked by prompti- 
 tude and severity, was expected to be equally 
 efficient when clothed with more regular au- 
 thority. A captain of rangers, whose enter- 
 prises had been remarkable for certainty and 
 finish^ would, it was believed, do quite as' good 
 service, in the capacity of a civil officer. A 
 daring pioneer, whose courage or presence of 
 mind had saved himself and others from the 
 dangers of the wilderness, was supposed to be 
 an equally sure guide in the pathless ways of 
 politics. Lawyers were yet few, and not of 
 much repute, for they were, for the most part, 
 youthful adventurers, who had come into the 
 field long before the ripening of the harvest. 
 
 There was another class, whose members held 
 prominent positions, tliough they had never 
 been distinguished for the possession of any of 
 the qualifications above enumerated. These 
 might be designated as the noisy sort — loud- 
 talking, wise-looking men, self-constituted ora- 
 cles and advice-givers, with a better opinion of 
 their own wisdom than any one else was willing 
 
350 WESTERN CITA-RACTEKS. 
 
 to endorse. Sucli men became "file-leaders," 
 or " pivot-men," because the taciturn people of 
 the west, though inclmed to undervalue a mere 
 talker, were simple-minded enough to accept a 
 man's valuation of his own powers : or easy- 
 tempered enough to spare themselves the trouble 
 of investigating so small a matter. It was of 
 little consequence to them, whether the candi- 
 date was as wise as he desired to be thought ; 
 and smce, in political affairs, they knew of no 
 interest which they could have in disputing it, 
 for kis gratification they were willing to admit 
 it. These were halcyon days for mere pre- 
 tenders — though for no very flattering reason : 
 since their claims were allowed chiefly because 
 they were not deemed worth controverting. 
 Those days, thanks to the " progress of intelli- 
 gence !" are now gone by : the people are better 
 acquainted with the natural history of such 
 animals, and — witness, ye halls of Congress ! — 
 none may now hold ofiice excej^t capable, pa- 
 triotic, and disinterested men! 
 
 Nor must we be understood to assert that the 
 primitive politician was the reverse of all this, 
 save in the matter of capability. And, even in 
 that particular, no conception of his deficiency 
 ever glimmered in his consciousness. Tlis own 
 assumption, and the complaisance of his fellow- 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 351 
 
 citizens, were inter-reactive, mutually cause 
 and effect. They were willing to confirm liis 
 valuation of his own talents : he was inclined to 
 exalt himself in their good opinion. Parallel 
 to this, also, was the oracular tone of his speech : 
 the louder he talked, the more respectfully silent 
 were his auditors ; and the more attentive they 
 became, the noisier he grew. Submission always 
 encourages oppression, and admiration adds 
 fuel to the fire of vanity. IN^ot that the politi- 
 cian was precisely a despot, even over men's 
 opinions : the application of that name to him 
 would have been as sore a wound to his self- 
 respect as the imputation of horse-stealing. He 
 was but an oracle of opinion, and though allowed 
 to dictate in matters of thouglit as absolutely as 
 if backed by brigades of soldiers, he was a 
 sovereign whose power existed only through 
 the consent of his subjects. 
 
 In personal appearance, he was well-calcu- 
 lated to retain the authority intrusted to him by 
 such men. lie was, in fact, an e2:>itome of all 
 the physical qualities which distinguislied the 
 rugged people of the west : and between these 
 and the moral and intellectual, tlicrc is an in- 
 variable correspondence — as if tlie spirit within 
 had moulded its material encasement to the 
 
S52 WESTERN CHARACTEES. 
 
 planes and angles of its own "form and pres- 
 
 ]N"ational form and feature are the external 
 marks of national character, stamped more or 
 less distinctly in different individuals, but, in 
 the aggregate, perfectly correspondent and com- 
 mensurate. The man, therefore, who possesses 
 the national traits of character in their best de- 
 velopment, will be, also, the most faithful repre- 
 sentative of his race in physical characteristics. 
 At some periods, there are whole classes of these 
 types ; and if there be any one who embodies 
 the character more perfectly than all others, the 
 tranquillity of the age is not calculated to draw 
 him forth. But in all times of trouble — of 
 revolution or national ferment — the perfect 
 Man-emblem is seen to rise, and (which is more 
 to the purpose) is sure to stand at the head of 
 his fellows : for he who best represents the cliar- 
 acter of his followers, becomes, by God's ap- 
 pointment, their leader. To this extent, the 
 'COX populi is the vox Dei ; and the unf^iiling 
 success of every such man, throughout his ap- 
 pointed term, is the best possible justification 
 of tlie choice. 
 
 What was Washington, for example, but an 
 epitome of the steady and noble qualities com- 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 353 
 
 billed uf cavalier and puritan, wliieliwere then 
 coalescing in the American character? And 
 Avliat more perfect correspondence could be 
 conceived between the moral and intellectual 
 and the physical outlines? AYhat was Crom- 
 well but the Englishman^ not only of his own 
 time, but of all times ? And the testimony of 
 all who saw him, what is it, but that a child, 
 who looked upon him, could not fail to see, in 
 his very lineaments, the great and terrible man 
 he was? And Xapole<>n, was he aught but an 
 abridgment of the French nation, the sublimate 
 and "proof" essence of French character? 
 l!^ot one, of all the great men of history, 
 has possessed, so far as we know, a physical 
 constitution more perfectly representing, even 
 in its advancing grossness, both the strength 
 and weakness of the people he led. 
 
 In tranquil times, these things are not ob- 
 served in one individual more than in others of 
 his class, and we are, therefore, not prepared to 
 decide whether, at such periods, the one man 
 exists. The great Leviathan, the king of all tlio 
 creatures of the ocean, rises to the surface only 
 in the tumult of the storm ; his huge, portentous 
 form, lies on the ftice of the troubled waters only 
 when the currents are changed and the fountains 
 of the deep are broken up. 
 
354: WESTEEN CHAEACTERS. 
 
 IN'atiire does no superfluous work, and it may 
 require the same causes wliicli produce the 
 storm to organize its Kuler. If a great rebellion 
 is boiling among men, the mingling of the ele- 
 ments is projecting, also, the Great Rebel : if a 
 national cause is to be asserted, the principles 
 upon which it rests will first create its appro- 
 priate Exponent. But when no such agitation 
 is on the point of breaking out — when the 
 crisis is not near, and the necessity for such 
 greatness distant — national character probably 
 retains its level ; and though there be no one 
 whom the people will recognise as the arch-man, 
 the representatives, losing in intensity what they 
 gain in numbers, become a class. Thej^ fill the 
 civil stations of the country, and are known as 
 men of mark — their opinions are received, 
 their advice accepted, their leading followed. 
 Ko one of them is known instinctively, or 
 trusted implicitly, as the leader of JN'ature's ap- 
 pointment : yet they are, in fact, the exponents 
 of their time and race, and in exact proportion 
 to the degree in which they possess the char- 
 acter, will they exhibit, also, the physical pecu- 
 liarities. 
 
 Thus it was at the time of which we are 
 writing, with, tlie class to which belonged tlie 
 
THE POLTTTCTAN. 355 
 
 politician, and a description of liis personal ap- 
 pearance, like that of any other man, will con- 
 vey no indistinct impression of liis internal 
 character. 
 
 Such a description probably combined more 
 characteristic adjectives than that of any other 
 personage of his time — adjectives, some of 
 wliicli were applicable to many of his neigh- 
 bors, respectively, but all of which might be 
 bestowed npon him only. He was tall, gannt, 
 angular, swarthy, active, and athletic. His hair 
 was, invariabl}^, black as the wing of the raven ; 
 even in that small portion which the cap of 
 raccoon-skin left exposed to the action of sun 
 and rain, the gray was but thinly scattered ; 
 imparting to the monotonous daikness only a 
 more iron character. As late as the present 
 day, though we have changed in many things, 
 light-haired men seldom attain eminence among 
 the western people : many of our legislators are 
 yoimg enough, but none of them are heardlesft. 
 They have a bilious look, as if, in case of illness, 
 their only hope would lie in calomel and jalap. 
 One might understand, at the first glance, that 
 they are men of talent^ not of gpniufi ; and that 
 physical energy, the enduring vitality of the 
 body, has no inconsiderable share in the power 
 of the mind. 
 
356 WESTERN CHARACTEES. 
 
 Corresponrling to tlie sable of the hair, the 
 politician's eye was usually small, and in- 
 tensely black ^ — -not the dead, inexpressive jet, 
 which gives the idea of a hole through white 
 paper, or of a cavernous socket in a death's- 
 head ; but the keen, midnight darkness, in whose 
 depths you can see a twinkle of starlight — 
 where you feel that there is meaning as well as 
 color. There might be an expression of cunning 
 along with that of penetration — but, in a much 
 higher degree, the blaze of irascibility. There 
 could be no doubt, from its glance, that its pos- 
 sessor was an excellent hater; 3^ou might be 
 assured that he would never forget an injury or 
 betray a friend. 
 
 A stoop in the shoulders indicated that, in 
 times past, he had been in the habit of carrying 
 a heavy rifle, and of closely examining the 
 ground over which he walked ; but what the 
 chest thus lost in depth it gained in breadth. 
 His lungs had ample space in which to play — 
 there was nothing pulmonary even in the droop- 
 ing shoulders. Few of his class have ever lived 
 to a very advanced age, but it was not for want 
 of ironrconstitiitions, that they went early to 
 the grave. The same services to his country, 
 which gave the politician his prominence, also 
 shortened his life. 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 357 
 
 From shoulders tliiis bowed, Imug long, mus- 
 cular arms — sometimes, perhaps, dangling a 
 little ungracefully, but always under the com- 
 mand of their owner, and ready for any efibrt", 
 however violent. These were terminated by 
 broad, bony hands, which looked like grapnels 
 — their grasp, indeed, bore no faint resemblance 
 to the hold of those symmetrical instruments. 
 Large feet, whose toes were usually turned in, 
 like those of the Indian, were wielded by limbs 
 whose vigor and activity were in keeping with 
 the figure they supported. Imagine, with these 
 peculiarities, a free, bold, rather swaggering gait, 
 a swarthy complexion, and conformable features 
 and tones of voice: and — excepting his cos- 
 tume — you have before your fancy a complete 
 picture of the early western politician. 
 
 But tlie item of costume is too important to 
 be passed over with a mere allusion. As well 
 might we paint a mountain without its verdant 
 clothing, its waving plumes of pine and cedar, 
 as the western man without his picturesque and 
 characteristic habiliments. The first, and in- 
 dispensable article of dress, was the national 
 hunting-shirt : a garment whose easy fit was 
 well-adapted, both to the character of his figure 
 and the freedom of his movements. Its nature 
 did not admit much change in fashion : the only 
 
358 WESTERN CHARACTEES. 
 
 vai'iations of wliicli it was capable, were those 
 of ornament and color. It miglit be fringed 
 around the cape and skirt, or made plain ; it 
 might be blue, or copper-colored — perhaps 
 tinged with a little madder. And the variety 
 of material was qnite as limited, since it must 
 be of either jeans or deer skin. 
 
 Corresponding to this, in material, style, and 
 texture, he wore, also, a pair of wide pantaloons 
 — not always of precisely the proper length for 
 the limbs of the wearer, but having invariably 
 a broad waistband, coming up close under the 
 arms, and answering the purpose of the modern 
 vest. People were not so dainty about " set" 
 and " fit," in those days, as they have since be- 
 come ; and these primitive integuments were 
 equally well-adapted to the figure of any one to 
 whose lot they might fall. In their production, 
 no one had been concerned save the family of 
 the wearer. The sheep which bore the wool, 
 belonged to his own flock, and all the opera- 
 tions, subsequent to the shearing, necessary to 
 the ultimate result of shaping into a garment, 
 had been performed by his wife or daughter. 
 Many politicians have continued this affectation 
 of plainness, even when the necessity has ceased, 
 on account of its effect upon the masses ; for 
 people are apt to entertain the notion, that de- 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 359 
 
 cent clotliing is incompatible with mentiil 
 ability, and that be who is most manifestly be- 
 hind the improvements of the time, is best 
 qualified for official stations. 
 
 A neck-cloth, or cravat, was never seen about 
 the politician's throat ; and for the same reason 
 of expediency : for these were refinements of 
 affectation which had not then been introduced ; 
 and a man who thus compassed his neck, could 
 no more have been elected to an office, than if 
 he had worn the cap and bells of a Saxon jester. 
 The shirt-bosoms of modern days were in the 
 same category ; and starch was an article con- 
 traband to the law of public sentiment — inso- 
 much that no epithet expressed more thorough 
 contempt for a man, than the graphic word 
 " starched." A raccoon-skin cap — or, as a piece 
 of extravagant finery, a white-wool hat — with 
 a pair of heavy shoes, not unfrequently without 
 the luxury of hose — or, if with them, made of 
 blue-woollen yarn, from the back of a sheep 
 of the aforesaid flock — completed the element 
 of costume. 
 
 He was not very extravagantly dressed, as 
 the reader sees ; but we can say of him — what 
 could not be as truly spoken of many men, or, 
 indeed, of many women, of this day — that his 
 clothing bore distinct reference to his character, 
 
360 V\'ESTERK CHARACTERS. 
 
 and was well-adapted to Lis " style of beauty." 
 Ill fact, everything about liim, form, face, man- 
 ners, dress, was in " in keeping" with his char- 
 acteristics. 
 
 In occupation, he was usually a farmer ; for 
 the materials of which popular tribunes are 
 made in later times — such as law^^ers, gentle- 
 men of leisure, and pugnacious preachers — 
 were not then to be found. The population of 
 the country was thoroughly agricultural ; and 
 though (as I believe I have elsewhere observed) 
 the rural people of the west w^ere neither a 
 cheerful nor a polished race, as a class, they 
 possess, even yet, qualities, which, culminating 
 in an individual, eminently fit him for the role 
 of a noisy popular leader. 
 
 But a man who is merely fitted to such a 
 position, is a very difi'erent animal to one quali- 
 fied to give laws for the government of the 
 citizen. After all our vain boasting, that public 
 sentiment is the law of our Jand, there is really 
 a very broad distinction between forming men's 
 opinions and controlling their action. If the 
 government had been so organized, that the 
 pressure of popular feeling might make itself 
 felt, directly, in the halls of legislation, our 
 history, instead of being that of a great and ad- 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 361 
 
 vaiiciiig nation, would have been only a chroni- 
 cle of factious and unstable violence. It does 
 not follo^^", that one who is qualified to lead 
 voters at the polls, or, as they say here, " on 
 the stump," will be able to embody, in enlight- 
 ened enactments, the sentiment which he con- 
 tributes to form, any more than that the tanner 
 will be able to shape a well-fitting boot from the 
 leather he prepares. '' Saum cuique jyrojyriicm 
 dat Natiira domimP'^' A blacksmith, therefore, 
 is not the best manufacturer of silver spoons, a 
 lawyer the ablest writer of sermons, nor either 
 of them necessarily the safest law-maker. 
 
 But those things to which his qualifications 
 were appropriate, the politician did thoroughly 
 and well. For example, he was a skilful tanner 
 — at least in the leading branches of that calling, 
 thouo-h he cave little or no attention to the 
 merely ornamental. For the latter, he had 
 neither time nor inclination. Even in the es- 
 sentials, it was only by working, as he expressed 
 it, " to the best advantage," — that is, contriving 
 to produce the largest amount of results with 
 the least expenditure of labor and patience — 
 that he got sufficient leisure to attend to his 
 public duties; and as for "inclination," no 
 
 * Translate " donum" talent. 
 
 10 
 
362 WESTEEN" CHAKACTEES. 
 
 quaker ever felt a more supreme .contempt for 
 mere embellishment. 
 
 He was seldom very liappy in his domestic 
 relations ; for, excepting at those seasons when 
 the exigencies of his calling required his con- 
 stant attention, he spent but little of his time at 
 his own fireside. He absented himself until 
 his home became strange and uncomfortable to 
 him : and he then did the same, because it had 
 become so. Every man who may try the ex- 
 periment will discover that these circumstances 
 mutually aggravate each other — are, inter- 
 changeably, cause and effect. His children 
 were, however, always numerous, scarcely ever 
 falling below half-a-dozen, and not unfrequently 
 doubling that allowance. They generally ap- 
 peared upon the stage in rapid succession — one 
 had scarcely time to get out of the way, before 
 another was pushing him from his place. The 
 peevishness thus begotten in the mother — by 
 the constant habit of nursing cross cherubs — 
 though it diminished the amount of family 
 peace, contributed, in another way, to the 
 general welfare : it induced the father to look 
 abroad for enjoyment, and thus gave the country 
 the benefit of his wisdom as a political coun- 
 sellor. Public spirit, and the consciousness of 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 363 
 
 ability, have " brought out" many politicians : 
 but uncomfortable homes have j^roduced many 
 more. 
 
 He was an oracle on the subject of hunting, 
 and an unerring judge of whiskey — to both 
 which means of enjoyment he was strongly 
 attached. He was careful, however, neither to 
 hunt nor drink in solitude, for even his amuse- 
 ments were subservient to his political interests. 
 To hunt alone was a waste of time, while drink- 
 ing alone was a loss of good-fellowship, upon 
 which much of his influence was founded. He 
 was particularly attached to parties of half-a- 
 dozen, or more ; for in such companions, his 
 talents were always conspicuous. Around a 
 burgou* pot, or along the trenches of an im- 
 promptu barbecue, he shone in meridian splen- 
 dor ; and the approving smack of his lips, over 
 a bottle of "backwoods' nectar," was the seal 
 of the judgment which gave character to the 
 liquor. 
 
 " Militia musters" were days in his calendar, 
 "marked with a white-stone;" for it was upon 
 
 * A kind of soup, made by boiling all sorts of ganne with 
 corn, onions, tomatoes, and a variety of other vegetables. 
 When skilfully concocted and properly sensoned, not at all 
 unsavory. So called from a sonp made by seamen. 
 
36-i west]':rn ciiakactees. 
 
 these occasions that he ai)peared in his ntmost 
 magnificence. His grade was never lower than 
 that of colonel, and it not nnfreqoently extend- 
 ed to, or even beyond, the rank of brigadier- 
 general. It was w^orth " a sabbath-day's jour- 
 ney" on foot, to witness one of tliese parades ; 
 for I believe that all the annals of the burlesque 
 do not furnish a more amusing caricature of the 
 " pomp and circumstance" of war. Compai-ed 
 to one of those militia regiments, Falstaif's 
 famous corps, whose appearance was so un- 
 military as to prevent even that liberal-minded 
 gentleman from marching through Coventry in 
 their companj^, was a model of elegance and 
 discipline. Sedeno's cavalry in the South Amer- 
 ican wars, though their uniform consisted only 
 of " leggings," a pair of spurs, and a Spanish 
 blanket, had more the aspect of a regular corjps 
 Warmee than these ! A mob of rustics was 
 never armed with a more extensive variety of 
 weapons ; and no night's " haul" of a recruiting 
 sergeant's net, ever made a more disorderly ap- 
 pearance, when mustered in the morning for 
 inspection. 
 
 The " citizen-soldier" knew no more about 
 " dressing the line," than about dressing him- 
 self, and the front of liis company presented as 
 many >enualities as a "worm-fence." Tall 
 
THE poLrnciAN. 365 
 
 men and short men — beaver hats and raccoon- 
 skin caps — rusty firelocks and long corn-stalks 
 — stiff brogans and naked feet — composed the 
 grand display. There were as many officers as 
 men, and each was continually commanding 
 and instructing his neighbor, but never thinking 
 of himself. At the command " Eight dress !" 
 (when the officer jpar excellence knew enough 
 to deliver it) some looked right, others left — 
 some thrust their heads out before — some lean- 
 ed back to get a glimpse behind — and the 
 whole line waved like a streamer in the wind. 
 " Silence in line !" produced a greater clamor 
 than ever, for each repeated the command to 
 every other, sending the order along the ranks 
 like a rolling fire, and not nnfrequently enforcing 
 it with the push of a corn-stalk, or a vigorous 
 elbow-hint. When a movement was directed, 
 tlie order reached the men successively, by the 
 same process of repetition — so that while some 
 files were walking slowly, and looking back to 
 beckon on their lagging fellow-soldiers, others 
 were forced to a quick run to regain their places, 
 and the scramble often continued many minutes 
 after the word " halt !" The longer the parade 
 lasted, the worse was tlie drill ; and after a tedious 
 day's " muster," each man knew less, if possible, 
 of military tactics, than he did in the morning. 
 
366 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 
 
 But the most ludicrous part of the display, 
 was the earnest solemnity with wliich the poli- 
 tician-colonel endeavored " to lick the mass into 
 shape." If you had judged only by the ex- 
 pression of his face, you would have supposed 
 that an invading army was already within our 
 borders, and that this democratic army was the 
 only hope of patriotism to repel the foreign 
 foe. And, indeed, it might not be too mnch to 
 say, that some such idea actually occupied his 
 mind : for he was so fond of '' supposing cases." 
 that bare possibilities sometimes grew in his 
 mind to actual realities ; and it was a part of 
 his creed, as well as his policy to preach, that 
 " a nation's best defence" is to be found in '' the 
 undisciplined valor of its citizens." His mili- 
 tary maxims were not based upon the history 
 of such countries as Poland and Spain — and 
 Hungary had not then added her example to 
 the list. He never understood the relation be- 
 tween discipline and efficiency ; and tlie doc- 
 trine of the " largest liberty" was so popular, 
 that, on his theory, it must be universally right. 
 Tempered thus, and modified by some of the 
 tendencies of the demagogue, his love of military 
 parade amounted to a propensity, a trait which 
 he shared with most of the people among whom 
 he lived. 
 
THE rOLITICIAN. 367 
 
 The inference from this characteristic, that 
 he possessed what phrenologists used to call 
 " combativeness," is not unavoidable, though 
 such was tlie fact. He was, indeed, quite pug- 
 nacious, readj, at all times, to fight for himself 
 or for his friends, and never with any very 
 special or discriminating reference to the cause 
 of quarrel. He was, however, seldom at feud 
 with any one whose enmity could materially 
 injure him : extensive connections he always 
 conciliated, and every popular man was his 
 friend. Nor was he compelled, in order to com- 
 pass these ends, to descend to any very low 
 arts ; for " the people," were not so fastidious in 
 those days, as they seem since to have become ; 
 and a straightforward sincerity was then the 
 first element of popularity. The politician was 
 not forced to afi'ect an exemplary "walk and 
 conversation ;" nor was an open declaration of 
 principle or opinion dangerous to his success. 
 
 Tliis liberality in public sentiment had its 
 evils : since, for example, the politician was net 
 generally the less esteemed for being ratlier a 
 hard swearer. In the majority of the class, in- 
 deed, this amounted only to an energetic or em- 
 phatic mode of expression ; and such the people 
 did not less respect, than if, in the same person, 
 they had had Reason to believe the opposite tone 
 
368 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 
 
 hypocritical. The western people — to their 
 honor be it written! — were, and are, mortal 
 enemies to everything like cant : though they 
 might regret, that one's morals were no tetter 
 than they appeared, they were still more grieved, 
 if they found evidence, that thej^ were loorse 
 than they claimed to be. 
 
 But, though the politician was really very 
 open and candid in all the affairs of life, in liis 
 own estimation he was a verv dexterous and 
 dangerous intriguer : he often deceived himself 
 into the belief, that the success, which was in 
 fact the result of his manly candor, was attribu- 
 table only to his cunning management. He 
 was always forming, and attempting to execute, 
 schemes for circumventing his political oppo- 
 nents ; but, if he bore down all opposition, it 
 was in spite of his chicanery, and not by its 
 assistance. Left-handed courses are never ad- 
 vantageous " in the long run ;" and, perhaps, it 
 would be well if this lesson were better under- 
 stood by politicians, even in our own enlight- 
 ened day. 
 
 For the arts of rhetoric he had small respect ; 
 in his opinion, the man who was capable of 
 making a long, florid speecli, was fit for little 
 else. His own oratorical efforts«.were usually 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 369 
 
 brief, pitliy, and to the point. For example, 
 here follows a specimen, which the writer heard 
 delivered in Illinois, by a candidate for the 
 legislature: — 
 
 " Fellow-citizens : I am no speech-maker, but 
 what I say, Fll do. Fve lived among you 
 twenty years, and if I've show^i myself a clever 
 fellow, you know it, without a speech : if I'm 
 not a clever fellow, you know^ that, too, and 
 wouldn't forget it with a speech. I'm a candi- 
 date for the legislature : if you think I'm ' the 
 clear grit,' vote for me : if you think Major 
 
 R of a better ' strij^e' than I am, vote for 
 
 him. The fact is, that either of us will make 
 a devilish good representative !" 
 
 For the satisfaction of the reader, we should 
 record that the orator was triumphantly elected, 
 and, though " no speech-makei*," w^as an excel- 
 lent member for several years. 
 
 The saddest, yet cheerfullest — the quaintest, 
 yet most unaffected of moralists, has Avritten 
 " A Complaint upon the Decay of Beggars," 
 which will not cease to be read, so long as pure 
 English and pure feeling are understood and 
 appreciated. They were a part of tlie recollec- 
 tions of his childhood — images painted upon 
 his heart, impressions made in his soft and pity- 
 16^ 
 
370 WESTERN CIIAKACTEKS. 
 
 ing nature ; and tlie " besom of societarian ref- 
 ormation," legislating bus3^boclies, and tinkers 
 of the general welfare, were sweeping them 
 away, with all their humanizing influences, 
 their deep lessons of dire adversity and gentle 
 charity. 
 
 There are some memories of the childhood 
 of western men — unlike, and yet similar in their 
 generous persuasions on all pure young hearts 
 — upon whose " Decay" might, also, be written 
 a " Complaint," which should come as truly, 
 and yet as sadly, from the heart of him, who 
 remembers his boyhood, as did that from the 
 heart of Elia. Gatherings of the militia, bur- 
 gou-hunts, barbecues, and anniversaries — pha- 
 ses of a primitive, yet true and hearty time! — • 
 are fast giving way, before the march of a bar- 
 barous " progress" (erroneously christened) '* of 
 intelligence." The hard spirit of money-get- 
 ting, the harder spirit of education-getting, and 
 the hardest of all spirits, that of pharasaical 
 morality, have divorced our youth, a vinculo, 
 from every species of amusement ; and life has 
 come to be a probationary struggle, too fierce 
 to allow a moment's relaxation. The bodies of 
 children are drugged and worried into health, 
 their intellects are stuffed and forced into pre- 
 mature development, or early decay — but their 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 371 
 
 hearts are ntterl}^ forgotten ! Enjoyment is a for- 
 bidden tiling, and only the miserable cant of " in- 
 tellectual pleasure" is allowed. Ideas — of phi- 
 losophy, religious observance, and mathematics 
 — are supplied ad nauseam / but the encourage- 
 ment of a generous imjndse, or a magnani- 
 mous /(3€?m^, is too frivolous a thing to have a 
 place in our vile system. Children are " brought 
 up," and " brought out," as if they were com- 
 posed exclusively of intellect and body: And, 
 since the manifestations of any other element 
 are pronounced pernicious — even if the exis- 
 tence of the element itself be recognised — the 
 means of fostering it, innocent amusements, 
 which make the sunshine brighter, the spirits 
 more cheerful, and the heart purer and lighter, 
 are sternly prohibited. Alas ! for the genera- 
 tion which shall grow up, and be " educated" 
 (God save the mark!) as if it had no heart! 
 And wo to the blasphemy which dares to oifer, 
 as service to Heaven, an arrogant contempt of 
 Heaven's gifts, and claims a reward, like the 
 self-tormentors of the middle ages, for its vain 
 mortifications. 
 
 But, in the time of the politician, of whom 
 we write, these things were far different. We 
 have already seen him at a "militia muster," 
 and fain would we pause here, to display him 
 
372 AYESTERN ClIAEACTEKS. 
 
 at a barbecue. What memories, sweet, tbongb 
 sacl, we miglit evoke of " tbe glorious fourth" 
 in the olden time ! How savorj are even the 
 dim recollections of the dripping viands, which 
 hung, and fried, and crisped, and crackled, over 
 the great fires, in the long deep trenches! Our 
 nostrils grow young again with the thought — ■ 
 and the flavor of the feast floats on the breezes 
 of memory, even " across the waste of years" 
 which lie between ! And the cool, luxuriant 
 foliage of the grove, the verdant thickets, and 
 among them pleasant vistas, little patches of 
 green sward, covered with gay and laughing 
 parties — even the rosy-cheeked girls, in their 
 rustling gingham dresses, cast now and then a 
 longing glance, toward the yet forbidden tables! 
 how fresh and clear these images return upon 
 the fancy ! 
 
 And then the waving banners, roaring can- 
 non, and the slow procession, moving all too 
 solemnly for our imj)atient wishes ! And final- 
 ly, the dropping of the ropes, the simultaueous 
 rush upon the open feast, and the rapid, per- 
 haps ravenous consumption of the smoking 
 viands, the jest, the laugh, all pleasant merri- 
 ment, the exhilaration of the crowd, the music, 
 and the occasion ! What glories we heard from 
 the orator, of victories achieved by our fathers! 
 
THE roLITlCIAN. 373 
 
 How we longed — O ! brief, but glorious dream ! 
 to be one day spoken of like Washington ! 
 How wildly our hearts leaped in our boyish 
 bosoms, as we listened to the accents of the 
 solemn pledge and " declaration" — " our lives, 
 our fortunes, and our sacred honor!" The 
 whole year went lighter for that one day, and 
 at each return, we went home happier, and 
 better ! 
 
 How measureless we thought the politician's 
 greatness then ! This was his proper element 
 • — here he was at home ; and, as he ordered and 
 directed everything about him, flourishing his 
 marshal's baton, clearing the way for the march 
 of the procession — settling the "order of exer- 
 cises," and reading the programme, in a stento- 
 rian voice — there was, probably in his own esti- 
 mation, and certainly in ours, no more impor- 
 tant or honored individual in all that multi- 
 tude ! 
 
 In such scenes as these, he was, indeed, with- 
 out a rival ; but there were others, also, in 
 which he was quite as useful, if not so conspic- 
 uous. On election days, for instance, when a 
 free people assembled to exercise their " inesti- 
 mable privilege," to choose their own rulers — 
 he was as busy as a witch in a tempest. His 
 talents shone forth with especial and peculiar 
 
37tt Vv'ESTEEN CiIAIJACTi:i:S. 
 
 lustre — for, with lilm, tins was "the daj for 
 which all other cla3^s were made." He mar- 
 shalled his retainers, and led them to "the 
 polls" — not as an inexperienced tactician would 
 have done, with much waste of time, in seek- 
 ing ever}^ private voter, but after the manner 
 of feudal times — by calling upon his immedi- 
 ate dependants, captains over tens and twenties, 
 throuojh whom he manao:ed the more numerous 
 masses. These were the "file-leaders," the 
 "fugle-men," and "heads of messes;" and it 
 was by a judicious management of these, tliat 
 he was able to acquire and retain an extensive 
 influence. 
 
 The first article of his electioneering creed 
 was, that every voter was controlled by some- 
 body ; and that the only way to sway the pri- 
 vates was, to govern the officers : and, whether 
 true or not, it must be admitted that his theory 
 worked well in practice. He aflfected to enter- 
 tain a high respect for those whom he described 
 as " the boys from the heads of the hollows" — 
 men who were never seen beyond the precincts 
 of their own little " clearings," except upon the 
 Fourth of July and election day, from one end 
 of the year to the other. "With these he drank 
 bad whiskey, made stale jokes, and afi^ected a 
 flattering condescension. "With others, more 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 375 
 
 important or less easily imposed upon, lie 
 " whittled" sociably in the fence-corners, talked 
 solemnly in conspicuous places, and always 
 looked confidential and mysterious. 
 
 But, however earnestly engaged, he never 
 forgot the warfare in which he was chief com- 
 batant. Like a general npon a field of battle, 
 with his staff" about him, he had sundry of his 
 friends always near, to undertake any commis- 
 sion, or convey any order, which he desired to 
 have executed ; and not a voter could come 
 npon the ground, whom there was the remotest 
 chance to influence, that his vigilance did not 
 at once discover and seize upon, through some 
 one of these lieutenants. He resorted to every 
 conceivable art, to induce the freemen to vote 
 properly ; and, w^lien he could not succeed in 
 this, his next study was to prevent their voting 
 at all. The consequence usually was, that he 
 secured his own election, or that of his chosen 
 candidate ; for, in him, vigilance and shrewd- 
 ness were happily combined. 
 
 But, perhaps fortunately for the country, his 
 ambition was generally limited to such small 
 offices, as he was quite capable of filling. The 
 highest point at which he aijucd, was a seat in 
 the state legislature ; and on reaching that goal, 
 
376 WESTERN CIIAKACTEKS. 
 
 he signalized liis term, cliieflj, if at all, in advo- 
 cating laws about division fences, and trespas- 
 sers upon timber — measures wliicli he deemed 
 desirable for his own immediate constituency, 
 with very little care for the question of their 
 general utility. Indeed, he never went to the 
 capital, without having his pockets full of " pri- 
 vate bills," for the gratification of his personal 
 friends, or near neiglibors ; and if, after a reason- 
 able term of service, he had succeeded in get- 
 ting all these passed into laws, he came home, 
 contented to " subside," and live the remainder 
 of his days, upon the recollection of his legisla- 
 tive honors. 
 
 In the course of time, like all other earthly 
 things, his class began to decay. Tlie tide of 
 immigration, or the increasing intelligence of 
 the people, raised up men of larger views ; and 
 he speedily found himself outstripped in the 
 race, and forgotten by his ancient retainers. 
 Then — like his predecessor, the original fron- 
 tierman — disgusted with civilization and its 
 refinements — he migrated to more congenial 
 regions, and, in the scenes of his former tri- 
 umphs, was heard of no more. 
 
THE POLITICIAN. 877 
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 Hf.ke we mnst pause. 
 
 On the hitlier side of the period, represented 
 by the early politician, and between that and 
 the jiresent, the space of time is much too nar- 
 row, to contain any distinct development: those 
 who superseded the primitive oracles, are yet 
 in possession of the temple. We could not, 
 therefore, pursue our plan further, without 
 hazarding the charge of drawing from the life. 
 
 It is remarkable, that anytliing like a fair or 
 candid estimate of — for example — a public 
 man's character, while he is yet favored with 
 the people's suffrages, is very certain to be pro- 
 nounced a caricature; and it is not less singu- 
 lar, that, while the complaints of popnlar critics, 
 in effect, affirm that there is fidelity enongli in 
 the picture to enable even obtuse minds to fit 
 the copy to the original, they at the same time 
 vehemently assert that the whole portrait is a 
 libel. A just admeasurement of a demagogue's 
 ability is thus always abated by tlic imputation 
 of partisan falsehood or prejudice ; and wlioso- 
 ever declines to join in the adulation of a tem- 
 porary idol, may consider himself fortunate, if 
 he escape with only the reproach of envy. 
 
378 WESTERN CHARACTEKS. 
 
 Sketches of contemporaneous character — if 
 they seek recognition among the masses, must, 
 therefore, not reduce the altitude which blind 
 admiration has assigned, nor cut away the for- 
 eign lace, nor tear the ornaments, with which 
 excited parties have bedaubed their images of 
 clay. And, yet, so prone are men to overrate 
 their leaders, that no estimate of a prominent 
 man can be just, without impugning popular 
 opinion. 
 
 There is probably no other ground quite so 
 perilous as politics, unless it be literature : and, 
 as yet, the west is comparatively barren of those 
 '' sensitive plants," literary men. But any at- 
 tempt to delineate society, by portraiture of 
 living characters, even though the pictures 
 were purely ideal, would, upon the present plan, 
 involve the suspicion (and perhaps the tempta- 
 tion to deserve it), indicated above. Before 
 venturing upon such uncertain paths, therefore, 
 we must display a little generalship, and call a 
 halt, if not a council of war. "Whether we are 
 to march forward, will be determined by the 
 "General Orders.^'' 
 
 THE END. 
 
J. S. REDFIELD, 
 
 110 AND 112 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK, 
 
 HAS JUST PUBLISHED: 
 
 EPISODES OF INSECT LIFE. 
 
 By AcHETA DoMESTicA. In Three Series : I. Insects of Spring.— 
 II. Insects of Summer. — III. Insects of Autumn. Beautifully 
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 beautifully colored after nature, extra gilt, $4.00 each. 
 
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 made ugly or repulsive. A charm is thrown around every object, and life suffused 
 through all. suggestive of the Creator's goodness and wisdom." — N. Y. Evangelist. 
 
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 A 
 
 MEN AND WOMEN OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 By Arsene Houssaye, with beautifully Engraved Portraits of 
 Louis XV., and Madame de Pompadour. Two volume 12mo. 
 450 pages each, extra superfine paper, price $2.50. 
 
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 Motion Commonwealth. 
 
 "A Book of Books. — Two deliciously spicy volumes, that arc a perfect bonntl 
 
 fat «n epicure in reading."'— HoTne Journal. 
 
redfield's new and popular publications. 
 
 PHILOSOPHERS AND ACTRESSES 
 
 By Arsene Houssaye. With beautifully-engraved Portraits of 
 Voltaire and Mad. Parabere. Two vols., 12mo, price $2.50. 
 
 "We have here the most charming book we have read these many day8,~8« 
 powerful in its fascination that we have been held for hours from our imperious labor*, 
 or needful slumbers, by the entrancing influence of its pages. One of the mast desira- 
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 dom." — Yaiikee Blade. 
 
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 Indeed, the vividness of the book is extraordinary. The scenes and d"tjcription8 are 
 absolutely life-like." — Southern Literary Gazette. 
 
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 justice to those times, and in fascination of description and style equal the fascinations 
 they descant upon." — Nexc Orleans Commercial Bulletin. 
 
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 Christian Freeman. 
 
 ANCIENT EGYPT UNDER THE PHARAOHS. 
 
 By John Kendrick, M. A. In 2 vols., 12mo, price $2.50. 
 
 " No work has heretofore appeared suited to the wants of the his^torical student, 
 which combined the labors of artists, tj-arellers, interpreters and critics, during the 
 periods from the eailiest records of the monarchy to its final al)sorption in the empire 
 of Alexander. This work supplies this deficiency." — OUvi-. Branch. 
 
 "Not only the geography and political history of Kgypt under the Pharaohs are 
 given, but we are furnished with a minute account of the domestic manners and cus- 
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 of travellers, artists, and scientific explorers, which have efiected so much during the 
 present century toward the development of Egyptian archaeology and history." — Jour- 
 nal of Commerce. 
 
 " The descriptions are very vivid and one wanders, delighted with the author, through 
 the land of Egypt, gathering at every step, new phases of ht-r wondrous history, and 
 ends with a m(jre intelligent knowledge than he ever before had, of the laud of the 
 Pharaohs." — American Spectator. 
 
 COMPARATIVE PHYSIOGNOMY; 
 
 Or Resemblances between Men and Animals. By J. W. Redfield, 
 M. D. In one vol., 8vo, with several hundred illustrations, 
 price, $2.00. 
 
 " Dr. Redfield has produced a very curious, amusin?, and instructive book, curious 
 in its originality and illustrations, amusing in the comparisons and analyses, and in. 
 structive because it contains very much useful mfbrmdtion on a too much neglected 
 subject. It will be eagerly read and quickly appreciaUd." — National ^gis. 
 
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 and inirenuity."— Daj7j' Union. 
 
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 Detroit Daily Advertiser. 
 
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 information, and those who read lor amusement. For its originality and entertaining 
 character, we commend it to our readers." — Albany Express. 
 
 " It is overflowing with wit, humor, and originality, and profusely illustrated. The 
 whole work is distinguished by vast research and knowledge." — Knickerbocker. 
 
 "The plan is a novel one ; the proofs striking, and must challenge the attention of the 
 curious," — Daily Advertiser 
 
REDFIELDS XKW AND POPULAR PLRMC ATIONS. 
 
 uMOORE'S LIFE OF SHERIDAN. 
 Memoirs of the Life of tlie Rt. Hon. Richard Brinsley Sheridnn, 
 by Thomas Moore, with Portrait after Sir Joshua Reynohls! 
 Two vols., 12mo, doth, $2.00. 
 
 " Oiip of the most brilliant biofrrnphies in English literature. It is the lifo of a wit 
 written bj- a wit. and few of Tom Moore's most ^-pHrkling poems are morn brilliant and 
 fasciiiatin'T than this biography "—flos/ow Traiisiript. 
 
 " This is at once a most valuable hioirraphy of tlie most celel)ratpd wit of the times, 
 and one of the most entertainiiier works ol it's pifted R\\{\\or."—Sprhi^ficlil Repuhlican.^ 
 
 "The Life of Sheridan, the wit. contains as much food for serious thouglit as the 
 best sermon tlmt was ever penned." — Arthur's Home Gnzctte. 
 
 "The sketch of such n character and career as Sheridan's by such a hand as Moore's 
 can never ceacp to be attractive"— iV. Y Cmirier and Enquirer. 
 
 "The work is instructive and full of interest."— C'/(r?></rt7t IntelUgenccr. 
 
 " It is a gem of biography ; full of incident, elegantly written, warmly appreciative, 
 and on the whole candid and just. Sheridan was a rare and wond<-rlul genius, and baa 
 in this work justice done to his surpassing merits."— iY. r. Evaiigdisl. 
 
 barrinGton's sketches. 
 
 Personal Sketches of his own Time, by Sir Jonah BARRmcTON, 
 Judge of the High Court, of Admiralty in Ireland, with Illustra- 
 tions by Darley. Third Edition, 12mo, cloth, $1 25. 
 
 "A moie entertaining book than this is not often thrown in our way. His sketches 
 of character are inimitable ; and many of the prominent men of his time are hit oftm 
 the most striking and grncehil outMne." — Albany Argus. 
 
 " He was a very shrewd observer and eccentric writer, and hi.i narrative of his own 
 life, and sketches of society in Ireland during his times, are exceedingly humorous and 
 interesting." — N. Y. Connnerc.uil Aflvnlistr. 
 
 " It is one of those works which are <'{niceived and written in so hearty a view, and 
 brings before the reader so many jjalpable and amusing characters, that the entertain 
 ment and inlormation are equally balanced."— Boston Trnvscript. 
 
 " This is one of the most entertaining books of the season." — jV. 1' Rrrorder. 
 
 " It portrays in life-like colors the charaeters and daily habits of nearly all the Eng- 
 lish and Irish celebrities of that period."— iN'^. Y. Courier and Enquirer. 
 
 JOMINFS CAMPAIGN OF WATERLOO. 
 
 The Political and Military History of the Campaign of Waterloo, 
 from the P^rench of Gen. Baron Jomini, by Lieut. S. V. Bknet, 
 U. S. Ordnance, with a Maj), 12mo, cloth, 75 cents. 
 
 " Of great value, both for its historical merit and its acknowledged imjiartiulity." — 
 Christian Frienwn, Boston. 
 
 '• It has long been regarded in Eurojie as a work of more than ordinary merit, while 
 to military men his review of the tactics and manoeuvres of the French Emperor dur- 
 ing the fV'w days which preceded his final and must disastrous defeat, is considered r« 
 instructive, as it is \\\\.crvs\\x\s." — Arthur' s Home Gnzelte. 
 
 "It is a standard authority and illustrates a subject of permanent interfst. With 
 military students, and historical inquirers, it will be a favorite refi-renco, and for the 
 general reader it possesses great value and interest." — Boston Transcript. 
 
 " It throws much light on often mooted jioints respecting Napoleon's military and 
 political genius. The translation is one of much \\cot."— Boston Commonwralth. 
 
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 poleon's military career." — Savannah Daily News. 
 
 ** It is ably written and skilfully translated."— TanftM Bladt. 
 
REDFIFLDS NEW AND POPULAR PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 NOTES AND EMENDATIONS OF SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 Notes and Emendations to the Text of Shakespeare's Plays, from 
 the Early Manuscript Corrections in a copy of the folio of 1632, 
 in the possession of John Payne Collier, Esq., F.S.A. I'hird 
 edition, with a fac-simile of the Manuscript Corrections. 1 vol. 
 12mo, cloth, $1 50. 
 
 " It is not for a moment to be doubted, we think, that in this volume a contribution 
 has liepn made to the clearness and accuracy of Shakespeare's text, by far the most im- 
 portant of any otfered or attempted since Shakespeare li%'ed and wrote." — Lond. Exam. 
 
 "The corrections which Mr. Collier has here given to the world are, we venture to 
 think, of more value than the labors of nearly all the critics on Shakespeare's text put 
 togt'ther." — London Literary Gazette. 
 
 " It is a rare jrem in the history of literature, and can not fail to command the atten- 
 tion of all the amateurs of the writings of the immortal dramatic poet." — Ch'ston Cour. 
 
 " It is a book absolutely indispensablp to every admirer of Shakespeare who wishea 
 to read him understandiny;ly." — Louisville Courier. 
 
 " It is clear from internal evidence, that for the most part they are genuine restora- 
 tions of the original plays. They carry conviction with them." — Home Journal. 
 
 "This volume is an almost indispensable companion to any of the editions of 
 Shakespeare, so numerous and often important are many of the corrections."— iZe^isfcr, 
 Philadelphia. 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE CllUSADES. 
 
 By Joseph Francois Michaud. Translated by W. Robson, 3 vols. 
 12mo., maps, $3 75. 
 
 "It is comprehensive and accurate in the detail of facts, methodical and lucid in ar- 
 rangement, with a lively and Howing narrative." — .Jonrnal of Commerce. 
 
 "We ni'ed not say that tbe work of Michaud has superseded all other histories 
 of the Crusades. Tliis history has Ion? l>een the standard work with all who could 
 read it in its original language. Another work on the same subject is as improbable 
 as a new history of the 'Decline and Fa 1 of the Roman Empire.'" — Salem Freeman. 
 
 " The most faithful and masterly history ever written of the wild wars for the Holy 
 Land." — Philadelphia American Courier. 
 
 "The ability, diligence, and faithfulness, with which Michaud has executed hit 
 great task, are undisputed ; and it is to his well-filled volumes that the historical stu- 
 dent must now resort for copious and authentic facts, and luminous views respecting 
 this most romantic and wonderful period in the annals of the Old World," — Boston 
 Daily Courier. 
 
 MARMADUKE WYFIL. 
 
 An Historical Romance of 1651, hy HeiTry W. Herbert, author 
 
 of the "Cavaliers of England," &c., &c. Fourteenth Edition. 
 Revised and Corrected. 
 
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 pictorial beauty of style, which hav(! characterized all Mr. Herbert's fictions and imparted 
 to them such a bewitching interest." — Yankee Blade. 
 
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 of deep interest and of considerable historical value. It will be found well worth 
 v&ding."— National /'j.gis, Worcester. 
 
REDFIELD S NEW AND POPULAR PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 L.ife under an Italian Despotism ! 
 
 LORENZO BENONI, 
 
 OR 
 
 PASSAGES IN THE LIFE OF AN ITALIAN. 
 
 One Vol., 12mo, ClotJi^Pnce $1.00. 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 •' The author of ' Lorenzo Benoni' is Giovanni Ruffini, a native of Gonoa, who effected 
 his escape from his native country after the attempt at rcvohition in 18:53. His liook is, 
 In substance, an authentic account of real persons and incidents, though the writer has 
 chosen to adopt fictitious and fantastic designations for himself and his associates. Since 
 1833, Ruffini has resided chiefly (if not wholly) in England and France, where his quali. 
 ties, we understand, have secured him respect and regard. In 1848, he was selected by 
 Charles Albert to fill the responsible situation of embassador to Paris, in which city he 
 had lonff been domesticated as a refugee. He ere long, however, relinquished that office, 
 and again withdrew into private life. He appears to have employed the time of his exile 
 in this country to such advantage as to have acquired a most uncommon mastery over 
 the English language. The present volume (we are informed on good autliority) is ex- 
 clusively his own — and, if so, on the score of style alone it is a remarkable curiosity. 
 But its matter also is curious." — London Quarterly Review for July. 
 
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 lieve, been submitted to the English public by a foreigner, equal or nearly equal to this 
 Tolume in literary merit. It is not unworthy to be ranked among contemporary works 
 whose season is the century in which their authors live." — London Ezamintr. 
 
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 Messenger. 
 
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 " Under the modest guise of the biography of an imaginary ' Lorenzo Benoni,' we have 
 here, in fact, the memoir of a man whose name could not be pronounced in certain parts 
 of northern Italy without calling up tragic yet noble historical recollections. . . . lt« 
 merits, simply aa a work of literary art, are of a very high order. TTie style is really 
 beautiful — easy, sprightly, graceful, and full of the happiest and most ingenious turns of 
 phrase and fancy." — North British Review. 
 
 "This has been not unjustly compared to * Oil Bias,' to which it is scarcely inferior in 
 
 3){rited delineations of human character, and in the variety of events which it relates, 
 ut BS a description of actual occurrences illustrating the domestic and political condi- 
 tion of Italy, at a period fraught with interest to all classes of readers, it far transcendl 
 In importance any work of mere fiction." — Dublin Evening Mail. 
 
REDFIELD's new and rorULAR PUBLICATIONS. 
 " SHAKESPEARE AS HE WROTE IT." 
 
 THE WORKS OF SHAKESPEARE, 
 
 Keprinted from the neicly-discovered copy of tlie Folio of 1632 
 in the 2>ossession of J. Payne Collier, containing 7iearly 
 
 Twenty Thousand Manuscript Corrections, 
 
 With a History of the Stage to the Time, an Introduction to 
 each Play, a Life of the Poet, etc. 
 
 Br J. PAYNE COLLIER, F.S.A. 
 
 To which are added, Glossarial arid other Notes, the Readings of Formef 
 Editions, a Portrait after that by Martin Droeshout, a Vignette Title 
 on Steel, and a Facsimile of the Old Folio, with the Manuscript Cor- 
 rections. 1 vol, Imperial 8vo. Cloth $4 00. 
 
 The WORKS OF SHAKESPEARE the same as the above. 
 
 Uniform in Size with the celebrated Chiswick Edition, 8 vols. 
 
 l6mo, cloth $6 00. Half calf or moroc. extra 
 
 These are American Copyright Editions, the Notes being expressly prepared 
 for the work. The English edition contains simply the text, without a single 
 note or indication of the changes made in the text. In the present, the vari- 
 ations from old copies are noted by reference of all changes to former editions 
 (abbreviated f. e.), and every indication and explanation is given essential to a 
 clear understanding of the author. The prefatory matter, Life, &c., will be fuller 
 than in any American edition now published. 
 
 "This is the only correct edition of the works of the 'Bard of Avon' ever issued, 
 and no lover or student of Shakespeare should be without it." — Philadelphia Argus. 
 
 " Altogether the most correct and therefore the most valuable edition extant." — Alba- 
 ny Express. 
 
 •'This edition of Shakespeare will ultimately supersede all others. It must certainly 
 be depined an essential acquisition by every lover of the great dramatist."— Al Y. Cont' 
 mercinl Advertiser. 
 
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 ar and studpnt." — Philadelphia City Item. 
 
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 and correct." — Niagara Democrat. 
 
 " It must sooner or later drive all others from the market." — N. Y. Eveimig Post. 
 " iieyond all question, the very best edition of the great bard hitherto published." — 
 Hew England Religious Herald. 
 
 '• It must hereafter be the standard edition of Shakespeare's plays." — National Argus. 
 " It is clear from internal evidence that they are genuine restorations of the origi- 
 nal plays." — Detroit Daily Times. 
 
 "This must we thmk supersede all other editions of Shakespeare hitherto published. 
 Collier'ri corrections make it really a diflFerent work from its predecessors. Compared 
 with it we consider them hardly worth possessing."— 7?rt?7y Georgian, Savannah. 
 
 " One who will probably hereafter be considered as the only true authority. No one 
 we think, will wish to purchase an edition of Shakespeare, except it shall be conform- 
 able to the amended text by Collier." — Newark Daily Advertiser. 
 
 "A great outcry has been made in England against this edition of the bard, by Sin- 
 ger and others interested in other editions ; but the erhendations commend tbemselve* 
 too strongly to the good 8(;n6e of every reader to be dropped by the public — the old 
 editions must become obsolete." — Yankee Blade, Boston. 
 

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