Mrs Elton in Amercia

by Diana Birchall

  It was one of the happiest moments of her life, to be brought a large wooden tub full of hot water for washing; and to see the children, clean, bathed and tucked into a real featherbed was fairly joy unbounded. The supper table too: ham, beans, yams and berry pie were a finer feast than the Eltons had enjoyed for many weeks, and the only pity was that in their half-starved condition they could not do justice to it.

  There was no doubt that St. Louis, the bustling "Gateway City," was an improvement over life on the trail. The large central square with its wooden pavilion and stalls teeming with men busily trading furs and food supplies, was reassuringly civilized. It might be observed that the beaver seemed to be a great feature of St. Louis life; it was the main fur brought in for trade, and the inhabitants were all outfitted in beaver coats, beaver trousers, beaver hats and beaver boots. "It is all so terribly rough," said Mrs. Elton with a sigh, "but it does look prospering."

  "I am sure we shall do well here," replied Mr. Elton, enthusiastically. "There is the cathedral: do you see? Quite an impressive building! Remarkable that such a structure can be hewn in the wilderness. It speaks well for American enterprise. This is my given destination, Augusta, and so, if you will remain at the hotel with the children, where I can be secure of your safety, I will present my letters of introduction there."

  Mrs. Elton was not sorry to have an afternoon's rest, and to obtain some mid-day victuals for herself and the children, but it was near dinner time when her husband at last returned.

  "Well? What news? Are we to remain here, Mr. Elton?" she inquired anxiously.

  "Papa, I saw a buffalo head! And ever so many Indians!" cried young Philip Augustus.

  "Did you find us a nice little house, Papa?" Selina wanted to know.

  "Not so many questions, my dear ones," said Mr. Elton wearily, "it has been a long day, and not entirely successful."

  "Not successful! Why on earth should that be, Mr. Elton? Tell me what can be the matter? Surely in that handsome cathedral, there is work for a clergyman?" asked Mrs. Elton, alarmed.

  "Yes, Augusta, there is, but we have made a little miscalculation."

  "Miscalculation?" What do you mean? To do with the cathedral? But it is a famous place. We have been hearing about it forever; it is spoken of as the great religious centre of the West, to be. Is it not so?" Mrs. Elton sat down upon the bed, and anxiously awaited her husband's answer.

  "It is a veritable cathedral, in truth, Augusta - but - it is a Catholic one."

  "Catholic?"

  "Yes. I have been to see the Bishop - a very kind man, Bishop Rosati. An Italian. The cathedral was undertaken and built by Bishop DeBourg, and finished last year; and they have all kinds of fine works in progress. That is so far true enough. A seminary for the Indians - a model school, with everything being taught - even an orchestra and a choir, for their musical education - yes, these enterprises will indeed be the envy and admiration of the West! But in the end, it is a Catholic institution, Augusta, and I am not a Catholic."

  Mrs. Elton stared. "Can you not work with them? Surely the same good works can be undertaken by Catholic and Anglican ministers?"

  "No; they will not have me. They are as kind as possible, and will give us help, and guidance, to be sure. We are to receive an introduction to some Presbyterian clergymen who have established a missionary settlement outside the city, to Anglicise the Indians."

  "But that is the work you are to do, is it not? Surely you can join them? Where is this settlement?"

  "It is near the Great Osage Village, upriver. They are missionaries, and preach to the Indians to save their souls; their wives teach them the Bible, as well as reading and writing and useful arts like spinning and weaving. Bishop Rosati believes they are getting on very well. No; more to our purpose is that an Episcopalian Church, corresponding closely with our ministry, has been established by a banker of the town. The clergyman there is called Horrell; but you see it is only a small church. I am to see him tomorrow, and perhaps he will have some advice."

  The Eltons went to bed feeling very low, but this mood did not last out the following day. Mr. Horrell was the man they wanted. A sensible-spoken, educated man, though dressed in the inevitable beaver costume, he explained that he had received letters from Dr. Channing, and was delighted to see Mr. Elton, a man of education and ability, who had already proved his and his family's capacity for endurance by the journey they had undertaken to the Far West.

  "You are seasoned pioneers now," Mr. Horrell assured Mr. Elton, "and are just what is needed." He and his two young curates could handle the demands of their town parish, but there was good work to be done among the Indians, and the Eltons would serve admirably. The banker, Mr. Riddick, and fellow merchant parishioners, considered that taking the Gospel to the Indians was the best way to tame them, and render them harmless to deal with by turning them into peaceful souls instead of marauding savages who hampered commerce throughout the West. A circle of businessmen would raise funds for a mission led by Mr. Elton. He and his family would be provided with supplies enough to make the river journey up the Missouri by keelboat, to the frontier where they would set forth on their appointed mission: nothing less than to educate the wild Comanche Indians.

  This was not exactly the hopeful prospect Mrs. Elton had figured to herself, but it was the best chance that offered. To be sure, they might remain in St. Louis, but without a clergy berth for Mr. Elton, he must turn shopkeeper or trapper; and Mrs. Elton quite agreed that it was better that he retain his calling, even if it meant they must travel to the far ends of the earth to obtain an aboriginal parish. This adventure, however, need not be faced for some months yet, for all agreed it would be folly to "step West" in the autumn; the days were mild, but snow would soon fly, and the Eltons did not need much persuading to agree to spend the winter in safety and comfort in St. Louis, before venturing down the Missouri to the wild Indian country.

  CHAPTER NINE

  In the April of 1827, the keelboat Flora left Ft. Osage, the last white settlement of any size on the Missouri. The Eltons had been kindly met at Harmony Village, where the two Presbyterian ministers and their wives had everything in train for teaching the cooperative and friendly Arikawa Indians, who already could speak English, and were relatively prosperous owing to a thriving activity in going back and forth to St. Louis to trade their pelts. "These are not like the Indians you will find upriver," the Rev. McAllister, an earnest, red-haired young man, warned Mr. Elton. "The Arikawa - the Omaha - the Blackfeet - are not inordinately dangerous, but we hear very bad things of the Comanche, and if the Indian Removal Bill is passed, there may be open war."

  "In Washington I remember there was talk of removing the Cherokee, Delaware and Kickapoo to the southern plains," replied Mr. Elton, "and Senator Benton, with whom I was privileged to have some conversation in St. Louis, is making great progress in the land session treaties. The Indians will surely be removed from Missouri territory in the space of a very few years. However, I have heard of no such plans relating to the Comanche. Nobody seems to have had much contact with them."

  "They are masters of the art of not being found," agreed Rev. McAllister, "but depend upon it, when a white man intrudes into their territory, they will appear. I am not at ease about you making this journey with your family - the Comanche are scalpers, you know, and the danger from them is very great."

  "Of course, I would not take my family into the wilderness without protection," Mr. Elton assured him, "but there is quite a large party to accompany us as far as Ft. Montgomery, where the garrison will protect us. We shall be quite safe."

  "And travel on a keelboat? - for a lady like Mrs. Elton, and her young children?" put in Mrs. McAllister anxiously. Her own hands were hardened with incessant work, and she knew at a glance that Mrs. Elton, whose English finery was still fairly in evidence, lacked experience of life in the wilds.

  Mr. Elton smiled. "You do not know my wife," he said, "nothing daunts her. She is equal to anything; and she is v
ery glad to have found the little Indian maiden to help her."

  For an orphaned young girl of the Harmony community, Little Bear, had declared herself willing to travel with the English missionary family, and to care for their children; and Mrs. Elton had thankfully engaged her. The girl was well taught, and could talk about the story of Jonah and the Whale by the hour together, for it had impressed her very much; and more importantly she was able to instruct her mistress in many things that would be needful to know in a wild country. The children were fond of Little Bear, and Mrs. Elton took comfort in the knowledge that she would have the company of another woman aboard the keelboat; for there was no other.

  The Flora was a fine stout barge, sixty feet long, with thirty souls aboard: the captain and his crew including helmsmen, fireman and carpenter, cook, and sailors, accounted for one third, but there were also French fur traders and American hunters, intent on establishing trading posts upriver. Not all those aboard were traders; a man from Boston, who called himself an ethnologist, was making a study of the different Indians to be encountered, and there were two young Englishmen, who described themselves cheerfully as 'remittance men'.

  "Second sons, both of us," explained Mr. Whitney, "wanting to make our fortunes in the West." It was pleasing to the Eltons hear the home accents again, and both Mr. Whitney and Mr. Pierce enjoyed playing with the children, and made many polite attentions to the comfort of their mother, which she much appreciated, for conditions aboard the keelboat were crude in the extreme. The growing pile of furs, collected by the hunters on their days ashore, were stored in the centre of the boat, and smelled hideously. There was a grate for cooking on deck, and the kitchen performances, with game hung all about, often produced as high an odour as the furs. Many cords of wood had to be burned daily, to keep the paddle wheels turning, but at times when there was little wind, the crewmen were obliged to pole the boat forward. They wore few clothes, and took no care of their language, when about their work, and Mrs. Elton felt obliged to keep herself confined in the close, smelly cabin with its one crude porthole. The children enjoyed sliding on the piles of furs, when they were let to do so; but the heat, in the May sunshine, was considerable, and Mrs. Elton used to lie for hour after hour in her bunk, feeling that she was past speech, past everything. Whenever she ventured out upon the deck, there were sure to be males behaving coarsely: spitting, performing private functions, using vile language, singing, drinking, quarrelling.

  After a week of enduring such misery, Mrs. Elton could bear to keep to the cabin no longer, and she and the children began to spend more time out on the deck. They were becoming accustomed to the sights and sounds of the men; and there was comfort in knowing that, even if most of them could not, strictly speaking, be called gentlemen, they bore her no ill will, would not deliberately harm her, and would in fact fight to defend her if needful. From the time she attained to this sensible reflection, Mrs. Elton was more comfortable, and the men's attitude toward her became more natural as well.

  Daily, parties went ashore, and at such times anything might happen. The keelboat pushed over to the banks, and dropped anchor; a number of the men went ashore to collect firewood, or to trade in the Indian villages along the river. Mr. and Mrs. Elton ventured into many such villages, and the children were much entertained at seeing braves wearing leggings trimmed with skunk, and shoes embroidered with porcupine quills. They learned a little of the sign language, though many signs had to do with fighting and war and these Mrs. Elton did not care for the children to learn. Thus far, it had never occurred to her children that Indians could be dangerous, and she wanted to keep them from this knowledge for as long as possible.

  To little Philip Augustus and his sisters, Indians were people who wore clothing crafted from animal skins, far superior to their own dirty dresses and shirts that looked so poor now they were torn and shabby. An Indian might care for his skins by rubbing earth and water in them, and they only looked the better and were the softer. The Indians they met liked the children, and would give them corn bread baked in corn husks, and boiled beans, which tasted better than the weevily cakes cooked aboard the boat. Their tipis were cool and comfortable, shed water in rainy weather and were cosy with furs in cool. Boys often went naked, and Philip Augustus envied them; they had their own horses too, and they slept on buffalo robes.

  "Why can't we live like the Indians, Mamma?" asked Philip Augustus, when Mrs. Elton insisted on their washing vigorously after a visit to a village. "They don't have to wash."

  "That's just like a boy," said Selina disdainfully, "always wanting to be dirty. We are ladies and not Indians."

  "That's right, my own. A lady is a lady anywhere, and we must remain civilized, wherever we are," said Mrs. Elton.

  "I don't want to be civilized, I want to shoot a bow and arrow," complained her son.

  "So you shall, when you are a man," she agreed.

  "Now, now, Augusta, do not coddle him. A boy in these Western lands must learn such skills. He shall take lessons from Trapper Jean, a very good shot; he shoots with the Indians every winter up in Canada, and has brought down a grizzly eleven feet tall, he tells me."

  "Will I be able to do that?" asked Philip Augustus, pleased.

  "Perhaps; one day."

  At the end of June the keelboat's progress was stopped by low water, and some trade goods were off loaded, to lighten it. A party of Mandan Indians approached the boat offering delicacies such as buffalo tongues in exchange for any goods the traders did not want, such as whiskey; but whiskey was carefully hoarded and the Indians had to be contented with small metal tools and utensils instead. Some of these men, the Eltons noted, had their faces marked with smallpox, but they did not seem ill, and were helpful in showing the hunting parties where rabbits and ducks were most plentiful. Mr. Elton joined a fishing party, and was proud of making an enormous catch, a catfish that must have weighed nearly fifty pounds, which he brought in with only a little help from a brave called Fishcatcher: this fed the whole boat as well as numerous visiting Indians for a two-day feast.

  With the lightened boat, movement was again possible, and in another week a large Sioux village was reached, where the inhabitants lived in leather tipis, and ate their dogs. They were also remarkable for their beautifully decorated buckskin clothing, in which, they helpfully told the ethnographer, they also wrapped their dead, who they stowed them in trees. Mr. Prescott was very taken with these details, which he communicated to the two young Englishmen and the Eltons, but Mrs. Elton only sighed, "It does seem as if the Indians are more barbaric the farther West we go."

  The hunting was improving. The hunters now came back to the boat with elk, pronghorn and antelope, and all fared sumptuously. Mr. Elton's status as a gentleman and a clergyman, which bore little significance on the river, paled beside the fact that by the end of summer, he was acclaimed and recognized not only as a good fisherman but a fair shot. Mrs. Elton was not sure - but she was in a way to think that her husband was quite enjoying himself.

  One evening, as they sat over their venison and berries, she accused him of caring more for the wild West than for Highbury.

  "Why, the two are hardly to be compared, Augusta," he answered mildly. "They are so widely different. But this American life is more stirring than I expected, I confess. Such fine, free country; excellent scenery, and the hunting is magnificent: exactly so."

  "I like America more than England," said Philip Augustus, decidedly.

  "I do too," agreed little Gussie. "In England we did not hear such stories as Little Bear tells us, about witch-spirits, and the great shaman, and the wolf that ate the world."

  "No, there was only Miss Edgeworth and the moral tales," said Selina, making a face. "Do you remember how Miss Bates used to scold us for shouting like Indians?"

  "And how Mrs. Knightley said Phillie was a wild child for breaking the window with his ball."

  "And going to church - we had to sit so still, but they gave us sweetcake afterwards. And on Christma
s, oh, the sugared fruit - do you remember, Gussie, and the oranges?"

  "No, I don't, Phillie," she answered, injured. "I never ate an orange."

  "You did. Oh, sister, you are forgetting about home!"

  "We were clean there all the time, and me and Selina slept in a featherbed with Kitty, I know that," said little Gussie.

  "No, that was at Boston. Don't you remember? It was cold, and there were no wild horses, like here, but we had much better things to eat - roast beef, and apple dumplings."

  "Mamma, can't Little Bear bake us an apple dumpling?"

  "You know she cannot," said Mrs. Elton, with a sigh, "there is only corn flour, and open fires. Oh, I wish - " Mr. Elton stopped her with a look. "Never mind, Augusta," he said cheerfully, "a great land will be built here, and we shall all have dumplings and roasted hams, every Sunday."

  "That's not what Indians eat," said Philip Augustus, "but Trapper Jean says the Army's going to chase all the Indians out of Free Indian land, and then we can have it all. Do you think that is fair, Papa?"

  "My boy, we won't speak of this now. It will be many a day before the Indians are gone from Indian territory. They go where the buffalo goes, you know."

  Ft. Montgomery was as far as the keelboat would travel; the store of trading goods was spent, and autumn was setting in. The Eltons and some of the hunters were to spend the winter inside the wooden fort, and in the warm September and October days much hunting was done, and stores of meat and berries were collected and smoked, to build a supply of eatables, against the snows. The boat returned downriver, laden with furs, and carrying those traders who were bringing them back to St. Louis for sale. It promised to be a comfortable winter, and come spring, Mr. Elton and his family would settle in an Indian village, where his missionary efforts could begin in earnest.