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[From the original in the British Museum]

Crossing the Kaskaskia River February 5, 1779, Clark’s army lay three miles from Kaskaskia, for two days, “to tighten belts.”[21] It is impossible to determine how much was known of their path onward. To many it had been well known for nearly a century—an old watershed prairie route marked out by the buffalo and followed by missionaries—the Appian Way of Illinois. The difficulty in studying this route, it should be stated at once, arises from the fact that while Kaskaskia was formerly the metropolis of western Illinois, the rise of St. Louis across the Mississippi had the effect of altering previously traveled routes. What has been ever known as the St. Louis Trace, coursing across Illinois from Vincennes to the Mississippi, became in the nineteenth century what the old Kaskaskia Trace had been in the eighteenth century, just as what had been the “Old Massac Road” became known as the St. Louis-Shawneetown Road. As a result, the later Kaskaskia travelers followed the St. Louis Trace—much-traveled, broad, and hard—as far westward as Marion County, and then turned due southwest to Kaskaskia. Therefore it is necessary not to confound the ancient Kaskaskia trace to Vincennes with the later Kaskaskia trace which was identical for some distance with the more northerly St. Louis Trace.[22] At the same time it is easy to err in separating the older and newer routes too widely in the attempt not to confound them. The newer St. Louis Trace runs across from Indiana (Vincennes) to Missouri (St. Louis) through the Illinois counties of Lawrence, Richland, Clay, Marion, Clinton, and St. Clair. The course is practically that of the old Mississippi and Ohio (now the Baltimore and Ohio Southwestern) Railway. The route passed over the best course between the points, as proved by the railway surveyors and engineers. But many rivers blocked the way; the first of these from Vincennes was the Embarras—so called, as in the case of many streams, because the great floods left deposits of driftwood which seriously impeded navigation. West of the Embarras came the petulant Little Wabash and the Big Muddy, draining thousands of square miles of swamp and prairie, and, in rainy seasons, uniting and spreading out five miles in width. West of the tributaries of the Little Wabash come those of the Kaskaskia. A few smaller Wabash and Mississippi tributaries, such as the Bonpas and St. Mary are headed by this trans-Illinois route, but it was not, in one sense, a watershed route, crossing the Embarras, Little Wabash, Fox, Beaucoup, and Kaskaskia and their tributaries.

These streams flow southward. Kaskaskia lay some fifty miles south of St. Louis and the later St. Louis Trace. The route of the more ancient Kaskaskia Trace to Vincennes, therefore, ran some seventy-five miles in a northeast direction; then, turning due east, it ran about one hundred miles to the Wabash. For the first seventy-five miles it was a watershed route, coursing along the highland prairies between Three Mile, Plum, Crooked, Grand Point, and Raccoon Creeks—all tributaries of the Kaskaskia River—on the west and north, and the heads of the St. Mary, Beaucoup, and Big Muddy Rivers on the east and south. This backbone line of prairie land runs straight northeast through Randolph and Washington Counties, cutting into corners of Perry, Jefferson, and Marion Counties. But here in Marion County the backbone, which had been accommodatingly trending eastward, turned quickly to the north to avoid the treacherous Little Wabash; at this point the old trace divided into two courses both of which ran to Vincennes. One course, probably that known later as the eastern half of the St. Louis Trace, passed through the center of Clay, Richland, and Lawrence Counties, crossing both the Little Wabash and Big Muddy a short distance above their junction, the Embarras near Lawrence, and the Wabash at Vincennes. The other branch of the Kaskaskia Trace passed through the northern portion of Wayne, Edwards and Wabash Counties, crossing the Little Wabash and Fox some two miles above their junction, the Bonpas River, near Bonpas, and the Wabash, two miles above St. Francisville. From this ford the route led up the eastern shore of the Wabash about nine miles to Vincennes. By any route, at any time of year, the journey across Illinois was a hardship no thinking man would undergo, save only on the most important mission; in the winter season—with the Wabash a surging sea, the Little Wabash a running lake, Crooked Creek treacherously straight, water frozen on the prairies, the “points” of timber swampy morasses—all communication landward was cut off, with the beavers and blue racers swimming for the high ground.

In their right mind, Clark’s adventurers would probably not have faced the wilderness into which they strode on the morning of February 7 on any private affair of life or death. Two magnetic influences drew them on; these Americans had brought to Illinois the spirit of 1775, a breath of a boasted freedom that was half license, in which the hot-headed French exulted. Believing the Americophobite British, the inhabitants of Kaskaskia had feared the barbarian Virginians more than any savages; Clark made capital of this in securing Kaskaskia, and later, by the kindness with which he treated the inhabitants and the freedom he gave them, accomplished a moral victory as sweeping and as picturesque as his military achievement. The proposed plan to carry to reconquered Vincennes the blessings of liberty enjoyed at Kaskaskia under Virginian rule appealed strongly to the impressionable habitants; to Clark’s own patriot soldiers the Vincennes campaign was the very acme of frontier adventure. Again, the young, daring Clark—quiet, resourceful, irrepressible—was a potent factor in pushing these men out on a journey of such unparalleled hardship. True, it is difficult to look beyond the later George Rogers Clark, of soiled reputation, to the cool, brave youth of twenty-seven years who led these men through the prairies of Illinois in 1779. To dim the brilliant lustre of such days as these was a heavy—if not the heaviest—price to pay for indiscretions of later years. Yet, as the records of this handful of men are studied, and especially when the track of their memorable march is picked out and followed, one can fancy the clear, bright picture of the Clark of 1779 and, happily, believe for the moment that there is no connection between him and the later Clark whom the Spaniards knew. It is plain that the French were charmed by the dashing Virginian and his Vincennes chimera. The record Clark left of the expedition—written ere the grasshopper was a burden or those were darkened who stood at the windows—clearly implies that the expedition was launched with a levity that it is sure all did not feel, though it may have been perfectly assumed; and as the days passed we shall see that Clark hurried on in order to get his men too far to turn back. His diplomatic endeavors, throughout those marvelous fifteen days, to lure his men on, to lift their thoughts from their sufferings and incite them to their almost superhuman tasks, are perhaps without parallel in the history of marching armies in America.

Departing from the two days’ camping-place, three miles from Kaskaskia, the course, for almost the entire first day, lay through thick forests, which have quite disappeared since that time, on the watershed between the Kaskaskia tributaries on the northwest and those of the St. Mary on the southeast.[23] Fortunately the journey at the outset was comparatively easy; the weather was warm for the season, though rainy. A good march was made on the seventh through the forests and out into Lively Prairie, half a mile northeast of Salem, Randolph County, where the course of the old trail is well known. Beyond this, Flat Prairie opened the way toward the “Great Rib,” as the French knew the ridge in Grand Cote Prairie (La Prairie de la Grande Côte) on which the present village of Coultersville, Randolph County, stands. The first night’s camp was pitched probably in Flat Prairie, between Salem and Coultersville.[24] The authoritative record for this day’s march, as of all others, is the official Bowman’s Journal:[25] “Made a good march for about nine hours; the road very bad, with mud and water. Pitched our camp in a square, baggage in the middle, every company to guard their own squares.” On the eighth the record continues: “Marched early through the waters, which we now began to meet in those large and level plains, where, from the flatness of the country, [water] rests a considerable time before it drains off; notwithstanding which, our men were in great spirits, though much fatigued.” By the eighth it would seem the little band had reached the lower plains in the northwest corner of Perry County, two and a half miles northwest of Swanwick, where the headwaters of the Big Muddy tributary of the Kaskaskia were crossed, and the prairie south of Oakdale, Washington County, at which point Elkhorn Creek was crossed at the famous “Meadow-in-the-Hole” of old French days. This region was also known as Corne de Cerf, Elkhorn Prairie, Elkhorn Point and Ayres Point.[26] Prairie, forest, and bottom land were not far apart here. The “Meadow-in-the-Hole” was a singular little meadow, fifty or sixty yards wide, located on a “dry branch” of the Elkhorn and thirty feet lower than the surrounding forests—at what is now Oakdale on the Elkhorn.[27] From the present Oakdale the pathway ran from Elkhorn Prairie through Nashville Prairie, circling half a mile to the north and northeast of Nashville, Washington County. Turning to the east here, it coursed onward to a celebrated “point” of woods called Grand Point, near the present Grand Point Creek, section 32, township 2, south range 1W, two miles and a half northwest of Richview, Washington County.[28] From thence it circled northeast through section 9 in Grand Prairie Township, the extreme northwest township of Jefferson County.[29] The second night’s camp may have been pitched on Grand Point Creek, near Richview; and that of the ninth on Raccoon Creek, near Walnut Point, one mile north of Walnut Hill, Marion County. The old trail from Grand Prairie, Jefferson County, entered Marion County at section 32, Centralia Township, on the old Israel Jennings farm. Walnut Hill was two miles north of due east from the Jennings farm, through which, it may be added in passing, ran the later famous St. Louis-Shawneetown road.[30] Bowman’s record for the ninth and tenth reads: “9th. Made another day’s march. Fair part of the day. 10th. Crossed the river of the Petit Fork upon trees that were felled for that purpose, the water being so high there was no fording it. Still raining and no tents. Encamped near the river. Stormy weather.”

Here we have the first definite mention of a camping-place; the Petit Fork was the Adams or Horse tributary of Skillet Creek—the first tributary of the Little Wabash and Big Wabash the army encountered.[31] The crossing-place was near Farrington, Jefferson County[32]—fifteen short miles from Walnut Point and known in early days as Yellow Bark.[33] The feat of felling trees across this rushing stream being accomplished, the men crawled over and encamped on the eastern bank. A picture of the army splashing along through the watery prairies would be greatly prized today, but a picture of it creeping across Petit Fork on felled tree-trunks would be of extraordinary interest; it is one of the remarkable incidents of the heroic adventure.

Of these days the accounts of Clark furnish us almost no information.[34] The incident of the Petit Fork was not sufficiently notable to receive mention, for Clark wrote Mason: “The first obstruction of any consequence that I met with was on the 13th [the Little Wabash];” yet in his Memoir—written, it must be remembered, as late as 1791—he describes the march to the Little Wabash as made “through incredible difficulties, far surpassing anything that any of us had ever experienced.” The Letter breathes the spirit of the youth, for it was written in 1779; the Memoir ever reads like an old man’s reminiscences. Clark’s diplomacy in securing the loyalty of his men through great discouragements indicates a high order of the best qualities of a military commander. “My object now,” he writes, “was to keep the men in spirits.” He allowed the men to kill game and hold typical Indian feasts after the hard day’s wet march. Before their rousing fires, with venison and bear meat savoring the air, little wonder the night brought partial forgetfulness of the day’s fatigue. The four companies took turns at being hosts; the company on duty each day being supplied with horses on which to transport the game brought down. And throughout every day’s march Clark, and his equally courageous officers, made light of all difficulties, and “putting on the woodsman, shouting now and then and Running as much through the mud and water as any of them. Thus, Insensibly, without a murmur, was those men led on to the Banks of the Little Wabash which we reached on the 13th.” The spectacle, here presented, of officers inveigling soldiers forward, is one of the most singular in the history of the West. We may well believe Clark refers particularly to the two French companies which composed a most important arm of his force—the Virginians, perhaps, not needing equal inspiration to endeavor. The climax in Clark’s diplomacy was reached as he now approached the flood-tides of the raging Little Wabash.

It is necessary here to emphasize that the army, turning eastward just north of present Nashville, abandoned the watershed to which their path had thus far held; the route now was nearly due east, across the tributaries of the Little Wabash. Of these, Petit Fork (Adams tributary of the Skillet) was the first to be encountered; it was passed with great heroism on the tenth of February. On the eleventh the eastward route was followed and the Saline River (Skillet Creek) was crossed. Bowman’s record reads: “11th. Crossed the Saline river. Nothing extraordinary this day.” The route between the Skillet and Little Wabash may have been either one of the two courses mentioned, not over five miles apart, and running parallel to each other. The northern passed through the southern portion of Clay County, the southern through the northern portion of Wayne. There were two encampments between the Petit Fork and the Little Wabash; if the northern route was pursued, these camps were near Xenia and Clay City in Wayne County; if the southern route was followed, the camps were near Blue Point and Mount Erie in Wayne County. Bowman’s record for the twelfth is: “12th. Marched across Cot plains;[35] saw and killed numbers of buffaloes. The road very bad from the immense quantity of rain that had fallen. The men much fatigued. Encamped on the edge of the woods. This plain or meadow being fifteen or more miles across, it was late in the night before the baggage and troops got together. Now twenty- [forty-] one miles from St. Vincent. 13th. Arrived early at the two Wabashes. Although a league asunder, they now made but one. We set to making a canoe.” Clark’s records of the arrival at the Little Wabash read (from his Memoir): “This place is called the two Little Wabashes; they are three miles apart and from the Heights of the one to that of the other on the opposite shores is five miles the whole under water genly about three feet Deep never under two and frequently four;” (from Letter to Mason) “Arriving at the two Little Wabashes, although three miles asunder—they now make but one—the flowed water between them being at least three feet deep and in many places four. Being near five miles to the opposite hills, the shallowest place, except about one hundred yards, was three feet.” So far as these records go, either the Clay or the Wayne County route might have been that pursued. The long prairie of which Bowman speaks would have been, on the Clay County route, “Twelve Mile Prairie” situated between the present towns on the Baltimore and Ohio Southwestern Railway, Xenia and Clay City; on the Wayne County route it would have been “Long Prairie” lying between Blue Point and Mount Erie. The “two Wabashes” on the Clay County route would have been the Little Wabash River and the Big Muddy Creek. By the Wayne County route the two Wabashes would have been the Little Wabash and Fox River.

The indefatigable Lyman C. Draper, after a large correspondence with many of the best informed men in Illinois on the subject of the crossing-place of the Little Wabash, came to the firm conclusion that the two Wabashes were the Little Wabash and the Fox; the present writer after studying that correspondence and visiting the ground in question—which Mr. Draper did not find time to do—quite as firmly believes that the crossing-place was above the junction of the Little Wabash and Big Muddy Creek at the old McCauley’s settlement—in the southeast corner of section 21 of Clay County, range 8E, two miles east of old Maysville, which was three-fourths of a mile south of the present Clay City station on the Baltimore and Ohio Southwestern Railway. By this upper route Clark would have been on higher ground before and after crossing the Little Wabash. It is quite sure his party passed a salt spring (see p. 66) and the only one in this region was on this upper route. And finally, Bowman states that on the day after crossing the Little Wabash the party crossed the Fox River. This could not have been possible if the Little Wabash and Fox were crossed simultaneously. But even a slight discussion of the question may well be relegated to an appendix.[36] At either crossing-place, and the two are but a few miles apart, a most desperate situation confronted the intrepid Clark and his tired band of invaders.