In 1815 began his longest journey through the West. He encountered at Olean, on the Allegheny, a large body of Eastern emigrants who were awaiting the opening of navigation and the rise of the Western rivers. Swept rapidly down on the freshet, Buttrick landed in Kentucky; but having been attacked by his old enemy, fever and ague, he embarked for New-Orleans, thus enabling him to draw for us a brief but vivid picture of Mississippi navigation. From the Southern metropolis Buttrick started on foot for the North, over the route known as the Natchez trail—a wild and lonely journey of a thousand miles, through the land of semi-hostile Indians and backwoodsmen nearly as savage. Upon this hazardous journey he was “generally alone, always sick, often hungry, sometimes nearly starved,” and beset by drunken Indians; but he struggled on, arriving in Cincinnati after forty-seven days en route.
While the chief interest of Buttrick’s journal lies in his own adventures, yet these are in a way typical of Western conditions, and throw much light on the hardships of pioneers, and the devastations of the War of 1812–15. The book we here reprint is very rare. Published as an eleemosynary appeal to readers on behalf of its unfortunate author, who had become blind through his hardships, a small edition was put forth, and no copies are now known to be upon the market. Its reprint will, therefore, be a welcome addition to the journals of Western travellers.
Estwick Evans, whose Pedestrious Tour of Four Thousand Miles, through the Western States and Territories, comprises the second part of this volume, was, in his way, a philosopher—a man imbued with early nineteenth century views of the return to nature and the charm of savage life. Slipping the leash of the restraints of civilization, and influenced by a strange mixture of Quixotism and stoicism, our author set forth from his New-Hampshire home in the dead of an extreme winter, and crossed the frozen, almost trackless waste to the frontier post of Detroit. His copyright notice contains the following epitome of the journey: “The blast of the north is on the plain: the traveller shrinks in the midst of his journey.”
Evans was born (1787) of good New-England ancestry, at Portsmouth, New-Hampshire. Largely self-educated, he was admitted to the bar in 1811, and won popularity by espousing the cause of the oppressed, taking up cases for sailors, people in poor circumstances—those fleeced by self-seeking lawyers. A prominent colleague said of him: “Evans had about as much influence as any one, because he was a clever fellow, honest, poor, and not well treated, and the people sympathized with him.” He volunteered for the War of 1812–15, but was rejected on account of a physical disability. After his adventurous Western journey, he married and settled in New-Hampshire, at one time (1822–24) serving in the state legislature. His vein of Quixotism never left him; he desired to fight for South American independence, and actually left for Greece in order to join her armies, but arrived after the battle of Navarino and saw no bloodshed. In 1829 he removed to Washington, and throughout the remainder of his life practiced law, and served in the government offices, frequently contributing to the National Intelligencer. He died in New-York, November 20, 1866.[[1]]
Despite the eccentricity of Evans’s purpose, and the grotesque dress of buffalo skins in which he attired himself for his Western journey; despite, also, his constant tendency to moralize and involve himself and the reader in a maze of speculation, his comments upon the men and conditions which he saw in the course of his long tour are shrewd, eminently sane, and practical. The Western New-York of 1818 is vividly portrayed; the solitude of Northern Ohio, and the difficulties of the Sandusky swamps are made known; glimpses of the Indians of the vicinity are afforded. However, the chief value of the narrative commences when the author reaches Detroit. From that place through the remainder of the journey, to Presqu’ Isle, and down the Allegheny, Ohio, and Mississippi to New-Orleans, Evans was keenly alert for all manner of information that bore upon the war, the state of agriculture, the topography and settlement of the country, and the general industrial conditions. Much of his material was obtained from first-hand participants and explorers, and bears the stamp of accuracy. He gives us one of the best pictures we possess of early Michigan Territory, the French habitants contrasted with American settlers, the influence of the fur trade, and the scattered posts in this far-away region. His description, also, of early Indiana and Illinois presents interesting phases. At New-Orleans he encountered the remnants of French civilization, whose picturesque mingling with American backwoods life presented startling contrasts. “Here may be seen in the same crowd Creoles, Quadroons, mulattoes, Samboes, Mustizos, Indians, and Negroes; and there are other combinations not yet classified.” Evans viewed the dissipations, pleasures, and excitements of the Southern metropolis with the eye of a New-England Puritan, broadened, however, by his contact with French philosophy and liberalism. “The wonderful wealth and physical force of the United States” makes a strong impression on his mind; and looking forward with the eye of a prophet, he foresees the development which a hundred years will bring, and the power that will make all Europe tremble.
From New-Orleans, Evans returned to New-Hampshire by sea, having had, perchance, his fill of travels in the wilderness, and having found “amidst the solitude and grandeur of the Western wilds more correct views of human nature and of the true interests of man.” His book is both diverting and informing, and fills its place in the chronicles of the early West.
Louise Phelps Kellogg, Ph.D., Edith Kathryn Lyle, Ph.D., and Mr. Archer Butler Hulbert have assisted the Editor in the annotation of this volume.
R. G. T.
Madison, Wis., September, 1904.