Maximilian, Prince of Wied's, Travels in the Interior of North America, 1832-1834, part 1

by Prinz von Maximilian Wied

32 Returning to the inn, we loaded our guns and proceeded on our journey. As soon as we were out of the town, we went up the Delaware on the right bank, and crossed a bridge to Bushkill, a picturesque stream, flowing between lofty shady trees, on banks richly covered with a variety of plants. From this spot the way becomes extremely romantic and agreeable. It leads close by the bright mirror of the river, which may be full 200 paces broad, in the shade of the dark forest of plane, oak, tulip, walnut, chestnut, and other trees; and on the left hand rises the steep rocky wall, covered with many interesting plants, which are protected by the shade of the trees. The river soon becomes broader, and we came to isolated habitations situated in shady groves. We stopped at one of them to send a messenger, on horseback, back to Bethlehem, where the drawing materials, of which we had so much need, had been forgotten.

The rocks often came so close to the bank of the river, that there was scarcely room for two carriages to pass each other: lofty forest trees afforded a welcome shade. In many places the rock stood out. Dr. Saynisch struck off with his hammer some fine pieces of saussurite (Hornstone), and talc, with mica; but a slate formation soon succeeded, and we were glad that we had taken good specimens of the preceding. Continuing our way, in the shade, by the banks of the river, we frequently came to other steep rocks, till the wilderness again gave way to human habitations, where we stopped at the White House to water our horses and take some refreshment. From this place the country was more diversified. The road still runs by the side of the river, which was animated by boats, and by numbers of ducks and geese. The Mudrun creek here issues in a very picturesque manner, between high trees, from a small side valley. A little farther on, we left the Delaware to ascend some pretty high hills. We proceeded along the side valley of Martin's creek, in which there are some spots of marshy meadow, where the splendid Lobelia cardinalis, which is usually found on the banks of all these rivers, attracted the eye by its deep red flowers. We then passed a naked lateral defile, where stubble, and clover fields, and woods, which we saw at a distance, reminded us of some parts of our own country. The road led over the heights, alternately gently ascending and descending till we came to the little village of Richmont, where we watered our horses, which suffered from the great heat, and ascended a considerable eminence, on which there is a mean looking church, called Upper Mount Bethel. We then proceeded through a more elevated plain, where, on the left hand, in a north-west direction, is a near prospect of the Blue Mountains, which form the first chain of the Alleghany.

This first chain is said to be only 2,000 feet above the level of the sea; but it extends here further than the eye can reach, and is uniformly covered with verdant, primeval forests. It runs in the direction from north to south, and has no characteristically shaped peaks, or remarkable forms, so that there is nothing picturesque in the total effect. With the exception of some parts, especially the beautiful Catskill mountains, most of the landscapes of North America are characterized by this want of striking outlines, and this constitutes the great difference between them and 33 the views in Brazil, where the mountains and the outlines of the horizon are almost always marked by the most striking forms, as is usual in primitive mountains.

In the chain before us, we remarked an opening in a northerly direction, where the Delaware breaks through; this is called the Delaware Water Gap, or the Delaware Gap. It is twenty-three miles from Bethlehem, and was the place of our destination to-day. We were now two miles from it. After passing the little town of Williamsburg, we saw before us, almost in all directions, luxuriant verdant woods, and eminences rising behind each other. As our horses hastened to the valley, the height of the mountains seemed to increase. At length the bright Delaware appeared before us, and we soon reached its banks. The river here forms the boundary of Warren County in New Jersey. On the opposite side we perceived a large glasshouse, managed by Germans, called Columbia Glasshouse, where many who have possessed it have already become bankrupts.

As we approached this defile, we observed a water-snake swimming in the river, which suffered itself to be carried down with the stream, but disappeared as soon as we approached. We procured one on the following day, as they are not uncommon here.

We had now reached the mountain chain, which rose bold and steep on both sides, and at every step became more and more contracted. Just before the defile, or gap, is an inn, behind which, at the distance of hardly a couple of hundred paces, runs the steep rocky wall of grauwacke and clay slate, here the predominant kind of rock. This high wall is crowned on the summit with pines, and covered at the base with various other trees, while the middle part is naked and rugged. At the foot of the mountains are luxuriant fields and meadows, in which the fine cattle were grazing. From this spot the rocky wall approaches nearer and nearer to the river, the banks of which, rude and desolate, are covered with many broken trunks of trees confusedly thrown together, many of which were still lying in the water. This is the effect of the rising of the river, and the breaking-up of the ice in spring, which had caused more extensive damages in the spring of 1832 than on any former occasion within the memory of man. Where the banks of the river are flat and sandy, thickets of young planes often supply the place of the willows on the banks of our European rivers. The plane—called by the German inhabitants water maple, or water beech; by the Anglo-Americans, buttonwood, or sycamore—flourishes particularly near the water, or in low, moist situations, where it attains its colossal growth in perfection. These young planes, on the bank, were almost entirely stripped of their bark by the action of the water.

The inn, Delaware Gap, is supposed to be 600 feet higher than Philadelphia, and the steep wall of rock behind it is elevated 600 or 700 feet above it. We might have stopped here for the night, but, as it was early, we preferred passing the Gap. The road now led immediately along the bank of the river, and then obliquely upwards on the steep wooded western rocky wall. The savage grandeur of the scenery is very striking. The forest has underwood of 34 various kinds, where numbers of interesting plants attracted our attention. Picturesque rocks, over which water trickles, covered with various coloured mosses, lichens, and beautiful ferns, stand between the trunks of the trees, and form shady nooks, caverns, seats; while all the forest trees of this country, mixed with pines, particularly the hemlock spruce fir, and the Weymouth pine, make a dark wilderness that inspires a feeling of awe.

The valley of the Gap leaves the river just room enough to force its way between the steep walls of rock; and, if you turn and look back in this interesting ravine, you see against a steep-wooded height what is called the Indian ladder. There are several islands in this part of the river, which are partially stripped of their wood by the action of the current, but some of them have pretty lofty trees on them. At the distance of about a mile from the narrowest part of the Gap, we reached a lonely house, where a man, six feet high, and very corpulent, came to meet us; he was of German descent, and his name was Dietrich. He would willingly have received us for the night in his small public-house, but there was no accommodation for our horses, and we therefore proceeded on our journey. In a short time we reached an eminence, at the turn of the rocky wall, where the solitary dwelling of a Frenchman, named Dutot, is built on a steep rock, high above the river. From this place the valley becomes more open, and the mountains less steep as you recede from the Delaware. A bad road leads over some eminences to a large open place in the woods, forming a hollow, where the poor little village, Dutotsburg, consisting of twelve or thirteen scattered dwellings, is situated. Here we took up our night's lodging in a tolerable public-house, which is also the post-office for the stages, and is kept by a farmer named Broadhead.

We had scarcely taken a little rest, when a poor old man entered, who was the first person that had settled in this part of the country; his name was Dutot, and the village was called after him. He was formerly a wealthy planter in St. Domingo, and possessed 150 slaves; but, being obliged to fly during the revolution, had purchased a considerable piece of land here on the Delaware, and commenced building Dutotsburg. He had previously lost part of his property by the capture of ships, and his speculations here too seem to have failed. The property melted away, and the last remnant of his possessions was sold. He had built houses and sold them, so that he might be called the founder of the whole of Dutotsburg; yet, after all this, he is reduced to a state of great poverty, and his situation excites the compassion of travellers who pass that way.

As the country about Delaware Gap was highly interesting to me, we remained here on the following day, the 24th of August. We were early in motion, when the rising sun beautifully illumined the mountains. Our guide, Wöhler, had accompanied young Broadhead on a shooting excursion in the woods; the rest of us went different ways, each with his gun, till breakfast time. Near the village, a small stream, the Cherry Creek, meandered through the thickets and meadows, where numbers of birds came to drink, while the report of the fowling-pieces of our sportsmen 35 echoed from the neighbouring wood. After our return, I accompanied old Dutot to see his house and his family. He himself had nearly forgotten his native language, and his family knew nothing of it. We found in this house a delightful view into the ravine of the Delaware below, and afterwards took the way to the romantic wild tract which we passed through on the preceding evening. Several plants were here pointed out to me, to the roots of which the inhabitants of the country ascribe great medicinal virtues; for instance, the snake root, perhaps Aristolochia serpentaria, which is said immediately to stanch the most violent bleeding of any wound; and, above all, the lion's heart (Prenanthes rubicunda), which is commended as a sovereign remedy against the bite of serpents. Old Dutot related a number of successful cures which he had performed with this root. This plant has a tall flower stem with many flowers, and large arrow-shaped leaves; its root is partly tuberous, partly long, pretty large, and branching, of a reddish yellow colour, and contains a milky juice. It is boiled with milk, and two table-spoonfuls are taken as a dose. The swelling, caused by the bite of the reptile, is said speedily to disappear, after chewing the root. The Delaware Indians,[39] who formerly inhabited all Pennsylvania, made this remedy known to an old man, from whom it was inherited by the family of Dutot. The latter had himself been among the Indians, and gave me some information respecting them. They, as well as the river, were called after an English nobleman, but they named themselves Leni Lenape, that is, the aboriginal, or chief race of mankind, and they called the river Lenapewi-hittuck (river of the Lenape). They are the Loups, or Abenaquis of the French, inhabited Pennsylvania, New Jersey, &c., and were formerly a powerful tribe. A great part of them dwelt, subsequently, on the White River, in Indiana, after they had been much reduced by the whites; but, in 1818, they were compelled to sell the whole of this tract of country also, to the Government of the United States, and lands have been allotted to them beyond the Mississippi, where some half-degenerate remnants of them still live. They are said to have previously dwelt between fifty and sixty years in the territory of the present state of Ohio. They buried their dead in the islands of the Delaware, which are now partly in possession of old Dutot, but wholly uncultivated, and of little importance. It is said that human bones are still constantly met with on turning up the ground, and that, formerly, Indian corpses were found buried in an upright position, which, however, seems to be uncertain, and with them a quantity of arrow-heads and axes of flint; but all these things were disregarded and thrown away, nor had Dutot anything remaining but a thin, smoothly polished stone cylinder, with which those Indians used to pound their maize. I was filled with melancholy by the reflection that, in the whole of the extensive state of Pennsylvania, there is not a trace remaining of the aboriginal population. O! land of liberty!