It is impossible to follow the course of the whiskey traffic through its ups and downs. Numerous cases are recorded where the soldiers “knocked in the head” the whiskey barrels.[398] But it was probably true, as the missionary S. R. Riggs wrote from Lac qui Parle on June 15, 1847, to the Indian agent: “The whiskey destroyed by the efforts of yourself and the commanding officer at Fort Snelling forms the glorious exception, and not the rule.”[399]
Under the regulations existing in 1830 the traders were allowed to take with them into the Indian country one gallon per month for every person engaged in the party. Under plea of this they brought in high wines which were later diluted with water and distributed among the Indians. Of the amount brought in, the employees actually saw only one-third, and this they paid for at the rate of from eight to sixteen dollars per gallon.[400] Accordingly, Major Taliaferro issued a circular letter in which he stated that high wines and whiskey would be allowed to be brought in “in no case whatever”.[401] Actions such as these by the agent, who was still a young man, brought about the remark which Mr. Aitkin, a trader among the Chippewas, is reported to have made to some chiefs: “The Medals and Flags which you received at St Peters are nothing more than pewter and dish rags, and were given to you by a boy, and with a boys paw.”[402]
Much of the good which should have resulted from the activities of the officers was lost because the Indian could not be punished. If liquor was found in his possession and seized there was nothing to prevent his going back and obtaining more, taking the chance of being more successful in evading the authorities the second time.[403] Accordingly prevention as well as cure was tried, and Captain Eastman, Mr. Sibley, and others sought, with some success, to persuade the Indians to refuse to accept liquor.[404] Two years later the Indian agent, R. G. Murphy, organized a temperance society among the Sioux, who, an observer stated, were careful in living up to the pledge when once taken; and added, “One such man as Major Murphy does more real, practical good than all the missionary societies of New York and Boston.”[405]
X
SOLDIERS OF THE CROSS
Since the days of Father Marquette the Mississippi Valley has owed much to the missionaries. Parkman has recounted their sufferings and their glorious achievements in discovery, in exploration, and in inspiring others with their stories of the wonderful West. But when the black-robed Jesuit departed, and mass was no longer said in the log chapels about the lakes and tributary streams, the influence of Christianity still abided. There came a new generation of soldiers of the cross who served the great valley in a later stage of development as unselfishly and as thoroughly as their predecessors had done in the earlier days.
The Indian in the Northwest in 1830 was not unacquainted with or hostile to the whites; he did not fall down in awe to worship one of a different color. His grandfather had traded with the wandering traveller who often lived a whole winter in the village, and with his tribe had visited the great commercial center at Mackinac. His father remembered the day when the second class of strangers entered—the uniformed soldiers led by Pike—and now the sound of the big gun in the fort at the mouth of the Minnesota was no longer a dread portent.
But the missionary was a novelty. His purpose was unknown. He did not ask for furs; he did not stealthily give them whiskey; he did not come to summon them to councils at the agent's house; and he did not ask for cessions of land. If they would respect the white man's “medicine day”[406] and let their boys and girls attend the school, if they would listen patiently while he talked to them of things they did not understand, this newcomer was content. Out in the woods he cleared a patch of ground and grew corn. If the red men wanted to help he was very glad. When the winter storms came, and game was scarce, and the small supply of corn that the squaws had safely cached in the fall was eaten, then the missionary helped them in their difficulty. He often went with them on their hunts, shared all their privations, and eased their pain if accident or sickness befell them. As the activities of the mission broadened and its personnel enlarged, the Indian became more and more acquainted with whites who lived on farms and tilled the soil. So when at last the land was opened to settlement, the transition from the missionary's establishment to that of the American farmer was not sudden.
Much has been written of the degeneration which came to the Indians about a fort through their association with the soldiers. That such degeneration did result is true, but it came about in spite of the efforts of the officers. On the other hand, distinct steps were taken to improve the condition of the neighboring tribes; and although these efforts were soon transferred to the missionaries, yet these missionaries depended so much on support and encouragement from the soldiers that their enterprises may be considered as part of the history of Fort Snelling. The freedom from annoyance enjoyed by the missionaries living near the fort as compared with those at a distance indicates the influence of the post.[407]
Soon after Fort Snelling was established, Taliaferro attempted to persuade some Indians to undertake farming in order to supplement their hunting. But they preferred leaving this work to the rather desultory efforts of the squaws. One chief, however, remembered the advice during the next winter. Far out on the plains that border on the Missouri River he and his party were overtaken by a blizzard. Each one wrapped himself in his blanket and let the snow drift about and over him. With a little dried buffalo meat which they divided among them, they kept alive until the storm was over. While lying here, knowing not whether his companions were dead or alive, expecting himself to be a victim of either the cold or hunger or both, Chief Cloud Man resolved that if he ever returned to the vicinity of Fort Snelling he would not depend entirely upon the hunt for his living, but would also engage in farming under the direction of the Indian agent. This was no mere death-bed conversion. Many of his companions refused to follow him in the movement; other chiefs openly opposed him; but in the spring eight Indians settled upon the shores of Lake Calhoun to begin the life of agriculturists. This community was named Eatonville in honor of Secretary of War John H. Eaton.[408]