It should be remembered that the French sovereignty over the Northwest ceased in 1763, when, by a treaty made in Versailles, between the French and the English, all the lands embraced in what is now Minnesota were ceded by the French to England, so Carver came as an Englishman into English territory.
Carver left Boston in the month of June, 1766, and proceeded to Mackinaw, then the most distant British post, where he arrived in the month of August. He then took the usual route to Green Bay. He proceeded by the way of the Fox and Wisconsin rivers to the Mississippi. He found a considerable town on the Mississippi, near the mouth of the Wisconsin, called by the French "La Prairie les Chiens," which is now Prairie du Chien, or the Dog Prairie, named after an Indian chief who went by the dignified name of "The Dog." He speaks of this town as one where a great central fur trade was carried on by the Indians. From this point he commenced his voyage up the Mississippi in a canoe, and when he reached Lake Pepin he claims to have discovered a system of earthworks, which he describes as of the most scientific military construction, and inferred that they had been at some time the intrenchments of a people well versed in the arts of war. It takes very little to excite an enthusiastic imagination into the belief that it has found what it has been looking for.
He found a cave in what is now known as Dayton's Bluff in St. Paul, and describes it as immense in extent, and covered with Indian hieroglyphics, and speaks of a burying place at a little distance from the cavern,—Indian Mound park evidently,—and made a short voyage up the Minnesota river, which he says the Indians called "Wadapaw Mennesotor." This probably is as near as he could catch the name by sound; it should be, Wak-pa Minnesota.
After his voyage to the falls and up the Minnesota, he returned to his cave, where he says there were assembled a great council of Indians, to which he was admitted, and witnessed the burial ceremonies, which he describes as follows:
"After the breath is departed, the body is dressed in the same attire it usually wore, his face is painted, and he is seated in an erect posture on a mat or skin, placed in the middle of the hut, with his weapons by his side. His relatives, seated around, each harangues the deceased; and if he has been a great warrior, recounts his heroic actions nearly to the following purport, which in the Indian language is extremely poetical and pleasing:
"'You still sit among us, brother; your person retains its usual resemblance, and continues similar to ours, without any visible deficiency except it has lost the power of action. But whither is that breath flown which a few hours ago sent up smoke to the Great Spirit? Why are those lips silent that lately delivered to us expressions and pleasing language? Why are those feet motionless that a short time ago were fleeter than the deer on yonder mountains? Why useless hang those arms that could climb the tallest tree or draw the toughest bow? Alas! Every part of that frame which we lately beheld with admiration and wonder is now become as inanimate as it was three hundred years ago! We will not, however, bemoan thee as if thou wast forever lost to us, or that thy name would be buried in oblivion. Thy soul yet lives in the great country of spirits with those of thy nation that have gone before thee, and though we are left behind to perpetuate thy fame, we shall one day join thee.
"'Actuated by the respect we bore thee whilst living, we now come to tender thee the last act of kindness in our power; that thy body might not lie neglected on the plain and become a prey to the beasts of the field and the birds of the air, we will take care to lay it with those of thy ancestors who have gone before thee, hoping at the same time that thy spirit will feed with their spirits, and be ready to receive ours when we shall also arrive at the great country of souls.'"
I have heard many speeches made by the descendants of these same Indians, and have many times addressed them on all manner of subjects, but I never heard anything quite so elegant as the oration put into their mouths by Carver. I have always discovered that a good interpreter makes a good speech. On one occasion, when a delegation of Pillager Chippewas was in Washington to settle some matters with the government, they wanted a certain concession which the Indian commissioner would not allow, and they appealed to the president, who was then Franklin Pierce. Old Flat-mouth, the chief, presented the case. Paul Beaulieu interpreted it so feelingly that the president surrendered without a contest. After informing him as to the disputed point, he added:
"Father, you are great and powerful. You live in a beautiful home where the bleak winds never penetrate. Your hunger is always appeased with the choicest foods. Your heart is kept warm by all these blessings, and would bleed at the sight of distress among your red children. Father, we are poor and weak. We live far away in the cheerless north, in bark lodges. We are often cold and hungry. Father, what we ask is to you as nothing, while to us it is comfort and happiness. Give it to us, and when you stand upon your grand portico some bright winter night, and see the northern lights dancing in the heavens, it will be the thanks of your red children ascending to the Great Spirit for your goodness to them."
Carver seems to have been a sagacious observer and a man of great foresight. In speaking of the advantages of the country, he says that the future population will be "able to convey their produce to the seaports with great facility, the current of the river from its source to its entrance into the Gulf of Mexico being extremely favorable for doing this in small craft. This might also in time be facilitated by canals, or short cuts, and a communication opened with New York by way of the Lakes."