Chapter III (1)

For some time I have endeavoured to make an annual visit to Fort Ticonderoga and its neighborhood. September, October and November, before the ground freezes, when the lake is usually the lowest, are the best portions of the year for searching there. On the shores between high and low water marks around the Ticonderoga promontory; at Wright’s Point and on the Orwell shore opposite, the earth is black with flints. These are arrow and spear heads, knives, hammer stones and immense quantities of flakes. But few of the implements are perfect. I account for this condition because of the great numbers of soldiers there in the old wars. As you know, it was their practice to select the best arrow and spear heads and break them into pieces suitable for their flintlocks. But the native flint exists in great abundance in the limestone rocks of the locality; and so it was that, for centuries, the Indians resorted to this region, lived there and made weapons and implements for their own use, and for traffic with other savages passing by. I have obtained 2500 chipped stone implements from these shores alone. One November day, 1896, two of us left Plattsburgh by train at 8.30 a. m., reached Fort Ticonderoga at 10.30, picked up 575 wrought flints, and returning, got home at 6.15 the same evening. So, while I have considered that the great dwelling site in Plattsburgh was the most important for the manufacturing of pottery, and probably had the largest population of any village in the valley, yet certainly the Ticonderoga region surpassed it in the making of chipped implements. On this day of which I speak, my companion stopped on Mount Independence, while I pushed over to the Orwell shore, perhaps a hundred rods away. And, by the way, let me say that the historic ruins on Mount Independence are nearly as interesting as those on the Ticonderoga promontory. I could not see the gentleman on the mountain because of the trees, but when I called out to him, not only his reply came to me, but my voice echoed back first, so quickly, so distinctly and with such force as to startle me. It was uncanny.

Turning again to the Jesuit Relations, this time to Volume 51, pages 179–183; in the Relation of 1667–68, written by Francis Mercier, we find an account of the experiences of Fathers Fremin, Pierron and Bruyas, three Jesuits, on the way to the Iroquois country. It was one of these fathers who wrote from Ste. Anne, Isle La Motte, August 12, 1667, the interesting letter, a translation of which was printed in the Burlington Free Press of August 22, 1902.

Father Mercier says: “The Fathers Fremin, Pierron and Bruyas having set out to go to the lower Iroquois—and having been detained for a long time in Fort Sainte Anne at the entrance to Lake Champlain * * * left the fort at last.” Then he quotes from their journal: “About four o’clock in the afternoon we embarked to go and take shelter at a league distance from the last fort of the French—which is that of Sainte Anne * * We gaily crossed this entire great lake, which is already too renowned by reason of the shipwreck of several of our Frenchmen, and, quite recently, by that of Sieur Corlart, commandant of a hamlet of the Dutch near Agnie, who, on his way to Quebec for the purpose of negotiating some important affairs, was drowned while crossing a large bay, where he was surprised by a storm. Arriving within three-quarters of a league of the Falls by which Lake St. Sacrament empties, we all halted without knowing why, until we saw our savages at the water side gathering up flints, which were almost all cut into shape. We did not at that time reflect upon this, but have since learned the meaning of the mystery, for our Iroquois told us that they never fail to halt at this place to pay homage to a race of invisible men who dwell there at the bottom of the lake. These beings occupy themselves in preparing flints, nearly all cut, for the passers by, provided the latter pay their respects to them by giving them tobacco. If they give these beings much of it, the latter give them a liberal supply of these stones. These water men travel in canoes, as do the Iroquois; and when their great captain proceeds to throw himself into the water to enter his palace, he makes so loud a noise that he fills with fear the minds of these who have no knowledge of this great spirit and of these little men. * * * The occasion of this ridiculous story is the fact that the lake in reality is often agitated by very frightful tempests, which cause fearful waves, and when the wind comes from the direction of the lake, it drives on the beach quantities of stones which are hard, and capable of striking fire.”

Now, this place where the fathers “sheltered themselves at a league’s distance” from Fort Sainte Anne, may have been Cumberland Head. The bay in which “Sieur Corlart” was drowned has been considered to be Willsborough Bay. Allow me to state that Arendt Van Corlaer (“Sieur Corlart”) came to his death in this very year, 1667, in which these Jesuits saw the savages at the water side gathering up flints. So the Indians 235 years ago had an established custom of picking up flint implements around Ticonderoga; the same practice that I have indulged in, perhaps quite as successfully without having to offer tobacco to a race of invisible men; and the “loud noises” which their “great captain” made when he proceeded to throw himself into the water to enter his palace and “which filled with fear the minds of those who have no knowledge of this Great Spirit and of these little men,” may have been an echo, like that marvelous one which came back to me from Mount Independence, on that November day, so loud and distinct as to seem uncanny.

* * * * *

I have thus grouped these three different parts although they may not be homogeneous. In some degree they unite the present with the early historic and prehistoric past of the Champlain Valley. I understand that the United States Government is soon to issue a large volume of Place-Names, and such work is highly to be commended. What an immense number our own localities could furnish to be thus preserved!

In the early Voyages, Journals, Relations and Letters are references to many known locations. But, for instance, should Radisson, or the Jesuit Relations or even Hadden, go to new editions during the next half century, the present notes, though copious, would seem meagre and inadequate, compared with what should then appear.

Concerning matters prehistoric, I hope I have said enough to reveal what a vast field for research lies almost untouched at our very doors.

DAVID S. KELLOGG, M. D.

Read before the Vt. Hist. Society.

LINCOLN.

A young backwoodsman, tall and strong of limb,
We find him in the wilds of Illinois,
So brave, so faithful oft men said of him,
“A man while yet a boy.”

A man, indeed, while moving upward still,
They gazed at his advance with wondering eyes,
And saw his lofty aims, his steadfast will,
With glad surprise.

He reached the summit in a crucial hour,
When clouds and darkness hung above the land,
And proved himself to all a man of power,
Who could command.

He loved his country, not some special part
More dear than others, but the glorious whole.
He gave to save the Union, all his heart,
His brain, his soul.

In one brief respite from the awful strain,
The foul assassin’s bullet—then the end.
And all the wide world mourned, and mourned in vain,
The nation’s friend.

But was it all in vain, when proudly waves
The flag he loved—full starred—from shore to shore?
When North and South clasp hands o’er heroes’ graves,
Would he ask more?
MARY ISABELLA FORSYTH.
_The Christian Intelligencer._

CAPTAIN ABRAHAM LINCOLN _versus_ PRIVATE LORENZO DOW THOMPSON

THE STORY OF A CELEBRATED CONTEST

While searching for material affecting the history of the Black Hawk War, of course I found the stereotyped version of the noted wrestling match between Captain Abraham Lincoln and an obscure private from the St. Clair company of Captain William Moore; the same published in Nicolay and Hay’s Life of Lincoln. But not until too late for my purpose did I secure its details with anything like accuracy. A long course of investigation has just rewarded me with the facts.

The match was celebrated, the State over, long before Lincoln became famous and it must be admitted a pleasure to turn from the serious man, to the early, robust Lincoln; the young man of stature and strength, informal as he was when just reaching man’s estate and in possession of his first prize in life.

It may seem ridiculous to class the modest office of captain of a company of sixty day volunteers, as a proud position, yet Leonard Swett has told us the day of Lincoln’s election to such a position in 1832, was the proudest of the latter’s life.

When Governor Reynolds called out the militia to remove Black Hawk and his band from Illinois soil, “dead or alive,” Abraham Lincoln as he has told us, was “out of a job,” and enlistment therein invited him to place, adventure and perhaps renown. A company of sixty-eight intractable spirits (two more were added subsequently), was organized in Sangamon County and enrolled on April 21st, of which Lincoln was elected captain and from which he was expected to exact discipline. His First Sergeant was John Armstrong, the gentleman who had undertaken with disastrous personal results, to introduce Lincoln to New Salem “life” through the medium of a wrestling match. William Kirkpatrick, said to have filched a cant-hook from Lincoln, as well as the latter’s rival in the contest for captain, was another. The Clary boys, Royal and William, who acted disagreeable parts at the Armstrong function, were of the number, while as though smiling at the joke of it, “Pleasant” Armstrong was another private. Finally from the sentimental side we find the names of John M. and David Rutledge to add to the list. Truly a picturesque crowd!

Once organized, the company was marched to Beardstown to be sworn into the service of the State by Inspector General John J. Hardin, where too the captain fell in with such men as O. H. Browning, Edward D. Baker, Adam W. Snyder, John Dement, Gov. Carlin and others who became famous in the history of the State and Nation. At that point the companies were formed into regiments and moved toward “The Yellow Banks” _en route_ for the mouth of Rock River where Captain Lincoln was to meet General Henry Atkinson, and Lieut.-Col. Zachary Taylor, as well as Lieutenant Robert Anderson, Lieutenant Jefferson Davis, Captain William S. Harney, Lieut. Albert Sidney Johnston and many others who were to be prominent in his future during the great crisis of our country.

In referring to the nights of that period, O. H. Browning in his journal of May 2d, wrote that they were “cold and tempestuous;” so that choice camping grounds, affording wood and water, were eagerly sought and when found, the scramble for their possession was spirited.

At, or just out of Beardstown, the companies of Captain Lincoln and Captain William Moore from St. Clair County, came upon just such a camping ground simultaneously and for its occupation a strife arose of course. With the propensity for free fights, usual to those days, it may appear miraculous at this day that such an affray was avoided; but as Captain Lincoln felt his official oats at the time and may have desired to reap a little personal advantage from the collision, he proposed to Captain Moore that “‘captain for captain,’ the matter should be settled by a match.”

But as every rule of wrestling forbade a contest so unequal, Captain Moore, who declined, suggested as a substitute the selection of a man from each company. That appeared fair enough and with a metaphorical chip on his shoulder Captain Lincoln selected himself to represent his company, while Captain Moore who was not an authority on “wrestling form,” turned over the function of selection to his brother, Jonathan Moore, Orderly Sergeant.

The latter knew his business even though a shout of derision went up from Lincoln’s men when the champion was produced. When led up for slaughter, the victim was found to be just above medium height and weight and so unobtrusive and guileless that I had almost forgotten to mention his name:—Lorenzo Dow Thompson of St. Clair County.

Captain Lincoln chortled and gave the upstart a look of such fine scorn that the poor fellow should have been sorry for living and had the affair been one of to-day we surely could have heard the captain shout “what a cinch!” when the books were opened for bets.

Jonathan Moore was called to referee the match which was to consist of “best two in three” falls. He tossed up a coin, winning choice of “holts” for Thompson, who chose “side holt.” Lincoln’s was “Indian holt,” and generally speaking it was a scrappy sort of a “holt” too. At once a great scramble followed among Lincoln’s men to lay their bets before Captain Moore’s men got “scart.” But Captain Moore’s men refused to get “scart.” In fact there was a very suspicious degree of firmness and unanimity in their opinion of “Dow” Thompson’s ability to take care of himself and any loose change his friends might put up on him; so up went powder-horns, guns, watches, coats, horses, pay-rolls and reputations until there remained not one solitary article of property in possession or expectancy thereof which had not been put into the pot on that match.

To increase the zest of his men for gaming, Captain Lincoln who was cock-sure of victory, had urged them to offer odds and discount the future all they could, and the men did it. Then the combatants grappled—side holt,—Thompson’s choice.

They see-sawed. The spectators shouted. Momentarily Lincoln’s men bantered Thompson with words of encouragement, “just to drag the sport out and get their money’s worth,” but when they discovered their error there appeared a temporary inspiration by the Clary boys to meddle. The Armstrong boys wanted to get busy as the contest proceeded, but before any of these meddlers could devise a plan, the long legs of the captain cleft the air and in the very next instant Thompson had him fairly upon the ground. The din which followed would have silenced a thunderstorm.

As said of the boy who fell down cellar:—he did not hurt himself, but _did_ hurt his new pants, so it might be said of the chagrined captain after that first fall. His person had not been harmed but the disaster to his feelings was something dreadful. Particularly harmful because the crowd to witness it had quadrupled several times, each installment adding a few words of humiliation. Defeat in the presence of a few friends would have been dreadful, but surrounded by an army and he a captain, it was a catastrophe. Even the swagger back to the center did not square it. His friends shouted: “That’s only one fall, while two more are due.” That encouragement did not place his confidence _in statu quo_. But he made his bluff by stating icily when he had secured his “holt:” “Now Mr. Thompson, it’s your turn to go down.”

The Indian hug or “holt” did not work at all however. In fact the patronizing captain was kept busy trying to keep his feet solid against the multitude of tricks which Thompson had up his sleeve to thwart the captain’s favorite “holt.” At last it was abandoned as altogether useless.

The redoubtable captain followed with a “crotch-holt,” but that terrible device was resisted as easily as water runs from a duck’s back. A trick called “sliding away,” was introduced, only to confirm the growing opinion of the spectators that the doughty wrestler from Sangamon had met his master.

A moment of indecision followed, the slipping of a mental cog, so to speak,—just enough to allow the despised St. Clair man to get in his fine work, and once more the legs of the valiant captain rose in the air and both men fell to the ground in a heap.

“Dog fall!” yelled Lincoln’s men.

“Fair fall!” retorted Moore’s men.

A free fight was imminent, but Lincoln, disgruntled and defeated though he was—in one fall at least—was a “good loser.” Springing to his feet before the referee could act, he cried: “Boys! The man actually threw me once fairly; broadly so, and this second time—this very fall, he threw me fairly though not apparently so.” That settled the matter and the frankness of the speaker saved him his reputation although his men had lost all their available property.

On the 8th day of August, 1860, Professor Risdon Marshall Moore, then of McKendree College (now of San Antonio, Texas), son of the referee, Jonathan Moore, called upon Mr. Lincoln at the latter’s house in Springfield with a delegation of college men, devotedly attached to Mr. Lincoln’s cause. In introducing Prof. Moore, Lieutenant Governor Koerner added, “of St. Clair County.”

Prof. Moore then stated: “Mr. Lincoln, we have called to see the next President.” To which Mr. Lincoln replied: “You must go to Washington to see the next President.”

During this and other conversation which followed, Mr. Lincoln eyed Prof. Moore constantly with a suspicious twinkle of the eye, after which he asked: “Which of the Moore families do you belong to? I have a grudge against one of them.”

Professor Moore replied with a still merrier twinkle: “I suppose it is my family you have the grudge against, but we are going to elect you President and call it even.”

There were present at that meeting the same O. H. Browning who had witnessed the match nearly thirty years before, Norman B. Judd, Richard J. Oglesby and some others, to all of whom Mr. Lincoln related the story as herein told, concluding with these words: “I owe that Moore family a grudge, as I never had been thrown in a wrestling match until the man from that company did it. He could have thrown a grizzly bear.”

Poor Thompson! He migrated to Harrison County, Missouri, and became its first representative in the General Assembly of the State in 1846 and was re-elected in 1848. He was also a member of the first grand jury of the county. Politically he was called an anti-Benton Democrat. Positive in all his convictions, he was called eccentric toward the end of his life, but all who knew him testify that he was able, upright and a good neighbor and citizen.

In 1875 he died in indigence at the age of 65 and his body lies in Oakland cemetery six miles north of Bethany.

Singularly enough, we are told that to the same point migrated one Peter Rutledge who claimed to be brother to Ann Rutledge.

In the early history of Illinois, the Moores were known as the “fighting Moores,” by reason of their daring in the Indian war of 1812–14 and the border troubles which were constantly menacing our frontier.

Jonathan Moore who was born in Georgia, Nov. 20, 1799, was one of the number. He moved to Illinois in 1812, served in the Black Hawk War and enlisted in the Mexican War, but his company was rejected because troops enough had already been sent to the front.

At the breaking out of the Civil War, he enlisted and was made captain of company “G” Thirty-second Illinois Infantry and served at Shiloh and other hard fought engagements.

CHICAGO. FRANK E. STEVENS.

P. S.—I wish to express my indebtedness to Gen. Henry Cadle, of Bethany, Mo., for valuable favors connected with this story.

SIDE-LIGHTS ON CAROLINA HISTORY

My object in the following paper is not to present a summary of South Carolina history, enumerating well-known dates and facts already recorded by much better writers, but rather to furnish sundry varied items of information which, while not themselves entitled to rank as history, may yet serve a useful purpose as side-lights upon history proper.

South Carolina has always occupied an almost unique position in the family of States. Geographically small, numerically weak, she has nevertheless managed to make her influence felt throughout the Federation.

Thus much concerning her is known to the world at large, but the very peculiar conditions which existed for many years within her borders are not so generally known to outsiders. Yet it is these conditions which to a great extent moulded State character and influenced State politics. Indeed they are the key without which it would be impossible to explain many anomalies, in both her political and social history.

Presenting an unbroken front to the world, a solid unit on all questions of national policy, within herself she was divided into two jarring and irreconcilable factions. How this sectional antagonism originated, or when it first showed itself it is impossible to say. But the unnatural animosity once developed, the exceptional conditions existing in the State were unfortunately calculated to aggravate and perpetuate it. The root of the evil was that old grudge of the mass against class. Broadly speaking, the wealth and cultivation of South Carolina were confined to a single section of the State instead of being scattered throughout the whole. Orders and degrees of men have existed in all times and in all lands, but in South Carolina they were, so to speak, geographically distributed—the “orders” being found in the interior, and the “degrees” along the sea-board.

Thus, socially considered, a very broad line of demarcation separated the State into two distinct sections; and in many respects in manners, in habits, even in speech, the people of the two differed widely one from the other.

Along the coast lay the great rice-plantations, containing thousands of acres and worked by hundreds of slaves; their proprietors constituting the landed aristocracy of the State. In the interior, the plantations were smaller, there were fewer slaves, and their owners were “farmers” rather than “planters,” devoting themselves to the cultivation of a variety of crops instead of confining their efforts to the exclusive production of a single staple.

Thus in a very important particular South Carolina differed from both Virginia and Georgia—the two members of the State-sisterhood which in many respects she most closely resembled: for in Georgia the sea-board bore so small a proportion to the interior that the influence of the coast-dwellers could not be a very appreciable factor in the general equation. And in Virginia, a difference of climate produced a corresponding difference in the mode of life of the country gentry—Virginia planters for the most part making their homes on their plantations the year round, whereas Carolina planters were compelled by considerations of health to abandon their plantations during the summer months. Though some went no farther than to settlements among the pine woods or along the seashore near at hand, the great majority either spent their summers in Charleston—the center of South Carolina refinement and cultivation—or traveled abroad into the great outside world, thereby rubbing off their rusticity and keeping themselves in touch with passing events and current interests. Necessarily, the combined advantages of wealth, education and travel produced in the coast-folk a polish of manner and a breadth of mind not possessed by the dwellers of the interior of the State who, year in and year out, vegetated contentedly on their native soil.

The difference between the denizens of the two sections was inevitable. The trouble was that, instead of regarding their superior advantages as entailing upon them corresponding duties towards their less favored neighbors, the people of the sea-board arrogated to themselves the position of critics, and looked down with scarcely veiled condescension and contempt upon their rustic brethren of the interior; by whom, it is unnecessary to say, this attitude was deeply resented.

But having meted out the blame that of right belonged to the “low-country” in this matter, justice demands the statement that—as in all family disputes—the provocation was by no means entirely on one side. Except in the matter of politics, the coast had little in common with the interior. As a class, the people of the “up-country” were ignorant and unpolished. Their lack of breeding disgusted, their want of cultivation repelled, their marvelous thrift and instinct for money-getting absolutely bewildered the low-country intelligence. And when brought together the people of the coast recoiled with the feeling that they were in contact with an alien race.

Both sections were in fault and both paid the penalty. The development of the interior was greatly retarded by its obstinate antagonism to all that savored of the more advanced civilization of the coast; and the coast suffered in its turn, by frequently finding itself in a weak minority as regarded measures of sectional advantage. Each faction of the State Legislature was determined to consult solely its own interests whenever these appeared to conflict.

Such was the condition of affairs up to the period of the Civil War. At its close, a new era dawned in the life of South Carolina. Previous conditions were now reversed. The sea-board—formerly the garden spot of the State—was left depopulated, beggared, ruined; while the interior had escaped from the terrible ordeal almost unscathed.

It was also evident that in recuperative power, there could be no comparison between the two sections; the conditions which had formerly operated adversely to the progress of the interior now conducing to its development.

First, and chief of its advantages, were to be reckoned climatic conditions permitting of white agricultural labor.

Secondly, the greatly lessened disparity in numbers between whites and blacks in its population.

Thirdly, a hardier and more homely mode of life, which enabled its people to adapt themselves with greater readiness to the new order of things.

Fourthly, the varied character of its industries; and

Lastly, a staple (cotton) naturally suggestive of manufacturing enterprise.

When these combined advantages are taken into account, and the section possessing them compared with the coast, whose sole source of revenue lay in the fertile, but miasma-laden rice fields, for the cultivation of which negro labor was an absolute necessity, it is seen at once how completely “old things had passed away!”

The mere reversal of former conditions, however, was certainly not calculated in itself to heal the sectional breach. But, fortunately, ameliorating agencies were at work—the gradual spread of education—increasing intercourse between the sections, the result of improved facilities of travel, and also of business enterprises in which both were interested. And far above and beyond all else in mollifying power, the four years of fellowship in suffering for a common cause, which linked the erstwhile jarring sections together in a closer brotherhood than would probably have been brought about by generations of peace and prosperity.

The frightful race-problems with which South Carolina found herself confronted at the close of the Civil War, and the grim burlesque of government which followed, known as the “Reconstruction” period, during which chaos and crime ran riot in the land, served to weld still more firmly the new made bond. And when in 1876, after years of almost superhuman patience under provocation, the people of South Carolina decided that endurance had ceased to be a virtue, and rose in their righteous indignation; and in the face of overwhelming odds, by one supreme effort the State righted herself, “low-country” and “up-country” rejoiced together in true fraternal spirit.

Since that time the bond has continued to strengthen. And instead of being as of old, “a house divided against itself,” the State of South Carolina is gradually becoming one harmonious and homogeneous whole.

SOCIAL CONDITIONS

In the peculiar internal State-relations which we have been considering, South Carolina was unique. But in the social and domestic conditions now to be described, she was a true type and representative of the other Southern States.

It is an accepted truth that in all lands economic conditions determine social relations. In the South, the stability of the former insured a corresponding stability in the latter. To borrow a figure from geology, there were no “faults” in the stratification of Southern society. Each stratum rested secure and well-defined upon the one beneath it, with none of the perplexing sudden “dips” and “out croppings,” common in other parts of America. In that land of belated nineteenth century chivalry and feudalism, the long-exploded axiom that it took “three generations to make a gentleman” still held sway as the law governing social usage. As is the case with all laws, however, there were exceptions to this one. Men of force of character and intellectual gifts stepped over class barriers at one stride, and took their place at once in the very fore front of the social ranks.

Divisions and subdivisions of society existed, but into these intricate complexities it is not necessary to enter here. Enough to say that the “upper-crust” was composed exclusively of the landed proprietors and professional men. Of trade, this class had a holy horror, although they recognized “degrees” in infamy; holding with Cicero that, while the “retail” trader was to be regarded as “unmitigatedly base,” the “wholesale” trader might be accounted “mitigatedly” so.

Next to this topmost layer came the factors. The factor combined in his own person the functions of banker, commission merchant, and general factotum. He sold the planter’s crop, invested his proceeds, negotiated his loans, and advanced him money when required. Socially, the factor was the connecting link between the mercantile class and the landed gentry, to whom, indeed, he was often closely allied by blood. For it was the Southern custom to pass into a counting-house and thereby convert into “factors,” such planters’ sons as were considered incapable of receiving a classical or professional education, and showed no special aptitude for any particular calling.

Below the factor class were innumerable gradations gradually descending until, at the bottom of the social scale, were to be found the poor whites, or “crackers,” as they were contempteously termed. Of this element nothing need be said, as its influence was _nil_; the Old South being practically composed of but two classes—its aristocracy and its negroes.

In those old days the tone of public morals was pure and high. As a rule, a Southern gentleman’s word was as good as his bond; for any imputation on his honor he regarded as a disgrace, and disgrace was the one thing he dared not face. To these people wealth was not the be-all and the end-all of existence. Not that they underrated its importance or despised its advantages, but their whole manner of life was a protest against making wealth the standard by which to gauge the sum of human achievement, affixing, as it were, a money value to all things in the heavens above and in the earth beneath.

Again, they were—not obstructionists indeed—but strong conservatives; holding that change is not necessarily synonymous with improvement, but that it sometimes means retrogression rather than advance. And holding this creed, they were not carried away by every vagary which presented itself, whether masquerading in the guise of social panacea or political hocus-pocus.

The conditions of Southern life naturally tended to produce and foster individuality, and perhaps the most marked trait in Southern character was an almost fierce independence and a hot resentment of any semblance of control. The Southerner was quick tempered and somewhat over hasty in taking offence at fancied slights. But there was nothing vindictive or malevolent in his nature, and, his outburst of temper over, if cool reflection showed him to have been in the wrong, he did not hesitate frankly to acknowledge himself in fault, and make ample apology for his mistaken judgment and hot words. As a class, Southerners undoubtedly held a very good opinion of themselves; and sometimes, where mental ballast was lacking, this comfortable consciousness of being at quits with the world went to the head, and effervesced in silly superciliousness and irritating condescension. But for the most part, the people bore themselves with irreproachable courtesy and the quiet dignity which springs from self-respect. As a race they were a brave, fearless people, truthful, honest, and generous to a fault.

Besides this common heritage however, the folk of the Carolina coast possessed certain endowments peculiarly their own—a finished grace of manner, a keen sense of humor, and a power of quick repartee—their birthright by virtue of descent from a Huguenot ancestry. This French element was in truth, a very appreciable quantity in the Carolina equation, exercising considerable formative influence on character as well as manners. Unlike the French settlers in other parts of the United States, the Carolina Huguenots, notwithstanding the inhospitable reception given them on their arrival in the colony, held their own manfully in their adopted country; and soon established such friendly relations with their English neighbors, that in the course of a generation or so, by intermarriage with these, they had ceased to be a distinctive class of the population, and were only to be traced by their French names, which they had bestowed upon half the families in the lower section of the State.

One trait remains to be mentioned—a trait common to the entire South. I allude to the ardent patriotism and intense State-love of the people. This is proved by the records of the Civil War, which show how gladly substance and life were both devoted to the service of their beloved country. Even now, a thrill runs through one, at the recollection of the heroic self-sacrifice and whole-hearted devotion of the united Southern people to their “Lost Cause.”

CHARLESTON, S. C. H. E. BELIN

(_Conclusion next month._)

INDIAN AGRICULTURE IN SOUTHERN WISCONSIN

Early writers and travellers were lamentably negligent in recording many phases of Indian life which it would be desirable to know, especially those related to the economic activities of these primitive people. An undue amount of “historical divination” is required in arriving at satisfactory or even plausible conclusions concerning some of these matters. The real influence which aboriginal agriculture exercised upon the exploration, settlement, and development of the Western lands, is well worth our study. The new comer often received therefrom suggestions as to what crops would most likely flourish on the various soils and in the different rain-belts; not to mention the direct effect upon lines of supplies bought or stolen from the retreating tribes—these are interesting questions, but we must not expect much specific information concerning them. The methods of hunting and fighting; of making weapons, utensils, and implements; of dancing, singing, wooing, are all told by early chroniclers with painstaking minuteness and detail, but the products of the soil are noticed by them only in parenthetical phrases or general observations. There is hardly a line yet found, relating to the agricultural tools used, or the sort of ground chosen for fields—absolutely nothing as to yield, and next to nothing concerning the importance of these crops to the Indians themselves.

For a long time the Sauk and Foxes had their principal villages near the Wisconsin River, at the east end of Sauk Prairie, just opposite the northwest corner of Dane County. These Indians were somewhat above the average of the tribes of this region in civilization; they lived in more compact and larger settlements, hence naturally depended more on their corn-fields than did their more nomadic neighbors to the west. Their corn was planted along the edge of the woods which fringe the Wisconsin, and this belt is choice corn-land to-day. Some small parts of it have been kept in grass from the time of the earlier white settlement, and in those places old Indian corn-hills may still be seen, the sod holding them in shape. The Indian cultivated the growing corn by hoeing toward the hill; and as this became the mellowest spot, the corn was planted each succeeding year in the same little mound, which grew to be a foot or more in height.

“There was a large settlement of Sauk at the lower end of Sauk Prairie. I have often examined the remains of their tillage there, and should suppose they raised corn in one lot of at least four hundred acres * * * the four hundred acres is covered with well formed, regular corn-hills.”[4] Just what this writer means by “regular” is not quite clear—probably that the hills were of uniform size, and approximately the same distance apart, for it does not appear that the Indians often planted corn in rows, there being, with their mode of culture, very little occasion for such methods.[5] The Indians of northern Michigan at the present day generally care for their corn much as did their ancestors of a century ago; and the few who attempt its cultivation with a horse cultivator do not take the precaution to plant the corn in rows, but run here and there wherever there happens to be sufficient room between the hills.

Whether or not the Wisconsin Indians, like those of Ohio or New England, girdled trees so as to rid the land of them, and leave it in a suitable condition for cultivation by their rude and ineffective tools, is not stated; but the probability is that little of such work was necessary.[6] The field at Sauk Prairie just mentioned, lay along the border of the woodland; and as the prairie was burned off nearly every year, it is reasonable to suppose that the fire crept into the woods for a greater or less distance, killing the trees and leaving a considerable belt neither distinctively prairie nor woods. Naturally this would become overgrown with weeds and saplings, which could be much more easily eradicated than the heavy growth of trees or grass. The prairie sod was altogether too tough to be subdued by the Indians, and nowhere do we find them tilling any considerable area of genuine prairie soil.

There are one or two direct references to Indian fields within Dane County. While stationed at Fort Crawford, Jefferson Davis visited this section and left in his journal some remarks pertinent to our subject: “While on detached service in the summer of 1829, I think I encamped one night about the site of Madison. The nearest Indian village was on the opposite side of the lake. * * * The Indians subsisted largely on Indian corn and wild rice.”[7] Probably he referred to the place now known as Winnequah, on the eastern shore of Lake Monona, where a few Indian corn-hills are still discernable. The nature of the land here at the time of the Indian occupancy, cannot now be estimated with the same accuracy as in the case of the Sauk district. It is not on the edge of a prairie; but from the condition of the present woods about Winnequah, and the sandy nature of the soil, it is altogether likely that there were sufficient open spots for all the corn-fields which the small villages of Indians would be likely to cultivate.

Capt. Jonathan Carver, who made a trip through the northwest in 1766, in speaking of the Winnebago Indians remarks: “The land adjacent to the lake [Winnebago] is very fertile, abounding with grapes, plums, and other fruits, which grow spontaneously. The Winnebagoes raise on it a great quantity of Indian corn, beans, pumpkins, squashes, and watermelons, with some tobacco.”[8] Carver also gives an interesting description of the kind of corn grown by the Indians. We should infer from what little he says that it is very similar, although not identical, with the corn raised by the New England Indians in the seventeenth century: “One spike generally consists of about six hundred grains which are placed closely together in rows to the number of eight or ten, and sometimes twelve.”[9] He does not tell us whether or not it is dented; but since he finds it maturing as far north as Lake Winnebago, and especially as the ears are long and slender, it is safe to infer that it was the hard flint variety known as “Yankee corn.” In case the four hundred acres near Sauk Prairie produced such remarkably large ears—averaging, we should judge, at least a foot in length, the aggregate yield must have been very great. Reasoning from this, it is easy to believe the various reports of discoveries of fifty thousand bushels of corn in _cache_ by armies in the Ohio Valley, and to the southward. However, the element of uncertainty is by no means a negligible quantity, and the reader must draw his own conclusions as to the probable amount of farm produce raised by the Wisconsin Indian.

For the most part, the practices and methods of these Indians resembled those of the tribes farther east. The Sauk and Foxes were scattered up and down the Wisconsin and Fox rivers; wherever found, they depended for a living, in part, on the cultivated product of the soil.[10] In raising a crop of corn, or other field products, the Indians had many difficulties with which to contend, even more perplexing than those connected with subduing the native soil. Perhaps the depredations of blackbirds and crows were the worst; for as soon as other food began to fail them in the fall, they pounced upon the corn, usually when it was about in the milk or “roasting ear,” and wrought sad havoc. The Indians were always inordinately fond of the tender, green corn, and this fact, together with the danger of loss by birds or frost from leaving it out until maturity, induced them to gather it early. They were familiar with the fact that corn may be cured while yet in the green state, and still be desirable food; this fact, as well as the method of storing, appears in the following quotation:[11] “I observed several women with bags on their heads and shoulders, appearing heavily laden, bent down and not raising their faces from the path they were upon. I never saw individuals contend more with a load that almost mastered them, than did some of these females. Following them a short distance to a place where they stopped, I found they were making a _cache_ of the ripe maize of the season. A sort of cave had been hollowed out in the side of the hill, about eight feet in diameter at the bottom, and not more than two or three at the top. To this _cache_ the women were bringing the corn, a distance of about three miles, and some very young girls were in the cave storing it away. * * * The ears of maize are gathered and cured whilst the corn is in the milk, and the bags when filled with it are laid in the cave upon layers of dry grass, one layer above another. When the cave is full, straw is put in and covered over with dry earth. They cure the corn in the milk, because the blackbirds are numerous enough to devour it all if it were left to ripen in the field.[12] From this it is seen that the agricultural methods of Wisconsin Indians were not different from those farther east and south—the women do the work; the corn is gathered before fully ripe, and put in _caches_ for safe keeping.

It would be hazardous to attempt any estimate of the quantity of corn raised, even by any one tribe. The Sauk and Foxes appear to have depended more on products of the soil than did their neighbors. The four hundred acres raised near where Sauk City now stands, is good evidence of a total product of no slight proportions, for these Indians had many other villages scattered along the line of the Fox and Wisconsin rivers. Speaking of these tribes as a whole, Worden remarks: “The Sacs and Foxes raise corn, beans and melons, and derive a great part of their subsistence from agriculture and gardening.”[13]

Indian improvidence is usually spoken of as though the red man had no regard whatever for the morrow; but Pike credits the Osage with the virtue of rigid economy in saving their corn and beans for seasons when the chase is likely to fail in supplying the larder.[14] The same author mentions the drying of pumpkins, for winter use, by the Indians of the plains. In the same strain Father Allouez, who visited the Western Indians in the early part of 1670, says of the Outagami: “These savages * * * are settled in an excellent country,—the soil, which is black there, yielding them Indian corn in abundance. They live by hunting during the winter returning to their cabins towards its close, and living there on Indian corn that they had hidden away the previous Autumn; they season it with fish.”[15] Again, in speaking of the Oumamis, [Miami], he mentions the fact that on the first of May they still had corn which they offered him to eat; and of the Potawatomi, that their land is “very good for Indian corn, of which they plant fields, and to which they very willingly retire to avoid the famines that are too common in these quarters.” These famines were usually the result of drouth which, by drying up the forage plants, drove the big game away to other sections,[16] leaving the poor Indians dependent on fish and the grain in stock—the latter being, unhappily, seldom or never found in quantities sufficient to tide over a famine of any consequence.[17]

A traveller in 1669 makes this record on his visit to Green Bay: “I found here only one village of different nations—Ousaki, Pouteouatami, Outagami, Orenibigoutz (i. e. Ouinipegouk)—about six hundred souls. * * * All these Nations have their fields of Indian corn, squashes, beans, and tobacco.”[18]

In 1793, Robert Dickson wrote of the Indians near Portage: “At the Falls of the Fox River there is a portage of three-quarters of a mile. The Indians here raise Indian corn, squash, potatoes, melons, and cucumbers in great abundance, and good tobacco. On the low lands by the river great quantities of wild oats [rice] grow.”[19]

As a rule the Indian depended on corn and beans to support him during his long excursions, whether in peace or war. In the account of the capture of the Hall girls, which occurred about May, 1832, there is a good side-light on the Indian commissariat: “When we halted, the Indians having scalded some beans, and roasted some acorns, desired we should eat. * * * On our arrival several squaws came to our assistance * * * prepared a place for us to sit down, and presented us some parched corn, some meal, and maple sugar, mixed, and desired us to eat. * * * In the evening we were presented with a supper consisting of coffee, fried cakes, boiled corn, and fried venison, with fried leeks. * * * When our flour was exhausted we had coffee, meat, and pounded corn made into soup.”[20] Later, it is mentioned that the Indians carried pork and potatoes while on the march. The pork as well as the coffee was, of course, obtained from the whites, but the potatoes, so-called, were probably wild artichokes which Lapham found in use as food among the Indians in what is now Brown County. In 1844 he found them using “a very good kind of potato * * * the mode of preserving which was entirely new to us. The potatoes, which are of an oblong shape, and not longer than a man’s thumb are partially boiled, and carefully peeled while hot, without breaking the pulp, and strung like so many beads upon a twine or tough thread of bark and then hung in festoons on the ridge pole of the wigwam, over the smoke of the fire, where they became thoroughly dry. This process renders the potatoes fit for transportation and use during the severest frosts without injury. The squaws take great interest in preparing this article of food which is about the only vegetable they cultivate.”[21] However, the Indians around Green Bay were by no means restricted to one agricultural product, although contact with the white men tended to make them more and more dependent, since they found it easier to barter furs for food than to raise grain.

From the above citations, it appears that the cultivated fields of the Indians occupied a diagonal line across the state, following the courses of the Fox and Wisconsin rivers and Green Bay; and that the Sauk, Foxes, and Winnebago were the most inclined, in the struggle for existence, to make use of their agricultural knowledge and opportunities. It may also be shown that there were some important cultivated areas along the Mississippi and Rock rivers, and some insignificant patches near Lake Michigan. The settlement of Black Hawk’s followers on the lower part of the Rock, on the point between that river and the Mississippi is of interest, and these were Wisconsin Indians, who had resumed their agricultural labors in a new home.

Something of the skill of these people in choosing land on which to grow corn, also an idea of the quantity grown, are furnished by Black Hawk in his _Autobiography_: “In the front a prairie extended to the Mississippi, and in our rear a continued bluff gently ascended from the prairie. * * * On the side of this bluff we had our corn-fields, extending about two miles up parallel with the larger river, where they adjoined those of the Foxes, whose village was on the same stream opposite the lower end of Rock Island and three miles distant from ours. We had eight hundred acres in cultivation, including what we had on the islands in Rock River. The land around our village which remained unbroken, was covered with blue-grass which furnished excellent pasture for our horses. * * * The land being very fertile never failed to produce good crops of corn, beans, pumpkins, and squashes.”[22]

Black Hawk then goes on to state that, owing to encroachments of the white settlers, his people had hard work to find sufficient land on which to plant corn, and gives a sorrowful account of the distress caused by the confiscation of their crops by the whites. Black Hawk does not give any estimate of the area cultivated by the Foxes, but Col. John Shaw, in speaking of both settlements, estimates the fields at five thousand acres.[23] This is probably an exaggeration, but it serves its purpose in giving some notion of the importance of agricultural industry to the Indians themselves, and surely it was not inconsiderable. Anyone wishing to estimate the amount of these products by the various tribes, will find some data in the _Emigrant’s and Traveller’s Guide_, where a fairly good estimate of the numbers of the several Indian tribes in 1834 appears.[24]

A great many more references could be given, emphasizing the reliance of the red man on his rude husbandry; but perhaps enough has already been said to make it plain that something is due him for taking the initial step in the development of the great grain regions of the upper Mississippi valley. Neither are we left wholly to deduce our conclusions from circumstantial evidence. The early military expeditions of the West and Northwest were for the most part dependent on supplies obtained from the Indians.[25] The accounts of the Lewis and Clark expedition tell of the dependence of the party on provisions furnished by the Indians, and even so far north as the Mandan village they traded for Indian corn. At Mackinac Island, a point hardly within the present corn belt, the Indians raised a sufficient quantity of that cereal to attract the attention of the British garrison as well as of various travellers. As early as 1766 Jonathan Carver saw the importance of the agricultural products of the Wisconsin Indians, and after enumerating the crops grown by the “Saukies” before mentioned, speaks thus of the Sauk village: “This place is esteemed the best market for traders to furnish themselves with provisions, of any within eight hundred miles of it.”

Thus it is seen that the Indians, on their own account, furnished provisions for their own war parties; for the English forays against Americans and Spanish; for explorers like Marquette, Carver, and Lewis and Clark, and the long list of later adventurers who came to spy out the land and eventually to expel the tribesmen from their fields. The traders who ranged the woods and rivers for a century before civilization ruined their traffic, depended in a large measure on the meagre stores of Indian corn and beans; while even the troops which finally hunted the natives from their homes, filled their camp kettles either from the _caches_ or the corn fields of the fugitives. Nor was this all. The earliest settlers seized upon the little cultivated plots as the most desirable ground for their own first plantings, and utilized the native-grown seed, since it was known to be adapted to the soil and climate. It is interesting to note that the two crops which the Indians prized most highly, corn and tobacco, are at present two of the foremost products of Wisconsin.

BENJAMIN HORACE HIBBARD, PH. D.

(Communicated by Wisconsin Historical Society.)

THE AUTHENTICITY OF CARVER’S “TRAVELS”