Frances Hunter
blog archive of the author To the Ends of the Earth
Frances Hunter's Journal
January 2006
January 23, 2006: Follow the River
I've been a fan of James Alexander Thom's for a couple of years now. His excellent historical novels are set in the early American West. I really admire Thom for his mastery of historical detail and his ability to bring complex realities to life. In my opinion, his dramatizations of Lewis and Clark's portage around the Great Falls of the Missouri and their back-breaking trek through the Bitterroots are the best accounts ever written of those key aspects of the Expedition.
Many Thom fans consider Follow the River to be his best book. This vivid historical novel depicts the true ordeal of Mary Ingles, a young mother on the Virginia frontier who in 1755 was kidnapped in a Shawnee raid along with her two small children. Mary, nine months pregnant at the time, was taken hundreds of miles from home to present-day Kentucky, having her baby along the way. Eventually, Mary's toddlers are taken away from her. When an escape opportunity presents itself, Mary is forced to make the agonizing moral choice of whether to leave her baby with the Shawnees and flee for home, or stay and condemn herself to a life of slavery.
Mary leaves the baby with a Shawnee woman and begins a harrowing ordeal, weeks of trekking through an unsettled and unmapped wilderness, unarmed and without any advantage but her wits to survive. Mary's journey reminded me of one of my all-time favorite books, The Long Walk by Slavomir Rawicz. It is incredible to think of someone making such a difficult journey.
There is a lot to like about Follow the River, but it was not my favorite Thom book. The reason is that I really disliked the main supporting character, Mary's fellow escapee Ghetel. Thom is a stickler for historical accuracy, so I'm sure he based his characterization of the treacherous Ghetel on sources.
I wouldn't have minded if he'd taken a few liberties with the facts. As it stands, Follow the River is an excellent depiction of how some human beings react to extreme circumstances with nobility and others with selfishness. A tale of survival and perserverance, it's also a surprisingly dark and depressing read.
January 17, 2006: Lewis's Suicide
As we begin to get back into Ends and do some revisions for its publication, I've just been thinking a little about Meriwether Lewis and his suicide. I think that Lewis suffered from manic depression, and that he sometimes had episodes -- compulsive talking, hair-trigger temper, followed by crashing depression. In his youth and during the Expedition, Lewis was able to be highly functional in spite of his troubles.
But the hellish stresses of being Louisiana governor sent him into a severe depression, one that he attempted to medicate himself, only making things worse. He was truly in a state of mental torture and tremendous suffering. He battles heroically to survive against this enemy, because in his heart, he desperately wants to live -- hence, the reason that he sends for Clark. Ultimately, he loses this fight. The depression sabotages his thinking, taking away his belief in the alternatives. The mental pain exceeds his capacity to bear it.
Many people reject the idea of Lewis's suicide, because they feel that suicide is a cowardly act. Since Meriwether Lewis was self-evidently a courageous man, suicide for him is an unthinkable death.
While I think suicide can be a cowardly way out in some circumstances, I totally disagree that it was in the case of Meriwether Lewis and many others who end their own lives. During the research for our book, I found this quote from a sermon from Norman Vincent Peale that pretty much captures my thinking about how we tried to portray Lewis' valiant battle:
“Our friend died on his own battlefield. He was killed in action fighting a civil war. He fought against adversaries that were as real to him as his casket is real to us. They were powerful adversaries. They took toll of his energies and endurance. They exhausted the last vestiges of his courage and his strength. At last these adversaries overwhelmed him. And it appeared that he had lost the war. But did he? I see a host of victories that he has won!
“For one thing, he has won our admiration, because even if he lost the war, we give him credit for his bravery on the battlefield. And we give him credit for the courage and pride and hope that he used as his weapons as long as he could. We shall remember not his death, but his daily victories gained through his kindnesses and thoughtfulness, through his love for family and friends, for animals and books and music, for all things beautiful, lovely and honorable. We shall remember not his last day of defeat, but we shall remember the many days that he was victorious over overwhelming odds. We shall remember not the years we thought he had left, but the intensity with which he lived the years that he had. Only God knows what this child of His suffered in the silent skirmishes that took place in his soul. But our consolation is that God does know, and understands.”
January 9, 2006: Forged in Conspiracy, Part IX and LAST (Yay!)
The Last Years of James Wilkinson
Today I'll finally conclude what has been a very long series of blog entries that gives the story behind some of our research for To the Ends of the Earth and a possible conspiracy theory in the death of Meriwether Lewis.
The conspiracies are fun to learn about, but they shouldn't obscure one simple fact. From the time (defined by historian Dale Van Every as around the 1760s) that Americans psychologically broke free from Britain, a large percentage of Americans were determined to seize the West one way or another. The Louisiana Purchase did not drive the settlement of the West; instead, it was a case of the government racing to take control of what the people had already made clear that they wanted and intended to do, with or without official sanction. The territory, contested by Spain, France, Britain, the United States, and Native Americans, would ultimately belong to those people who were able to master and control its primitive and rough conditions.
Our old friend James Wilkinson would finally play out his final act on the public stage not long after Lewis's death and the fiasco at Terre aux Boeufs discussed in the last post. In 1810, a House investigation strongly condemned Wilkinson for the deaths during the march from Terre aux Boeufs. He was court-martialed but acquitted, much to the disgust of President Madison. Madison felt he had no choice but to keep Wilkinson on. It's a testimony to the paucity of military leadership in early America that Wilkinson was actually given a command again at the outbreak of the War of 1812.
Early in the war, Wilkinson was back in New Orleans to command the southern front. Major-General Andrew Jackson of the Tennessee militia marched over 2000 backwoodsmen to New Orleans to assist in its defense, but Wilkinson (correctly) perceived Jackson as a dangerous rival. In typical fashion he refused forage for Jackson's horses and medical care for the militia troops, and engineered an order from the Secretary of War dismissing Jackson's force from the service.
An enraged Jackson first made his mark on the national stage during the difficult two-month march back to Nashville. Rather than let the setback become a rout, he kept a firm but compassionate hand on the men, spending his own money to make sure they were cared for and that enough horses and men were available for the sick. Jackson's dedication to the common soldier made him a hero to the people of the West years before the Battle of New Orleans made him a household name across the nation.
Wilkinson was ordered into active combat along the Canadian border in 1813-14. As his biographer James Ripley Jacobs noted, "He could not create in others what he himself did not feel." His command was a disaster and he was badly beaten at both Crysler's Farm and Lacolle Mill. The old scoundrel was through at last. He was dismissed from the army with three months' pay.
Frail and old from years of dissipation and use of opium, he wrote his incredibly self-serving Memoirs and dreamed of recapturing his old dreams of empire in the Spanish territory of Texas. In March 1822, he went to Mexico to apply for an empresario grant. Stephen F. Austin, there for the same purpose, took pity on him and nursed him. When Austin departed Mexico City, Wilkinson, evidentlystill in possession of some of his old charm, somehow persuaded the dignified young man to buy a bunch of watches from him and peddle them to people along the way for $13 apiece. Not long after, Wilkinson died in Mexico City and was buried in an unmarked grave, where he remains to this day.
January 2, 2006: Flames Across the Border
I feel a little petty saying I was disappointed in Pierre Berton's Flames Across the Border, the second volume in his opus about the vastly underrated (and misnamed) War of 1812. It's just that the first book, The Invasion of Canada, was one of the most interesting and insightful histories I've ever read. Flames, while a well-written and thorough survey of the war in 1813-14, just isn't as thought-provoking or compelling as Invasion.
Together the two books focus on the border war between the United States and Canada (leaving out other large topics such as the naval war in the Atlantic and the Battle of New Orleans). To the British, the war was an annoying sideshow in the larger picture of the Napoleonic Wars. To the Americans, the war was a matter of national honor, a Second American Revolution to determine who would dominate North America. To the Canadians, it was the beginning of their own national identity.
And to the people who lived along the U.S.-Canadian border, it was three years of misery and terror, culminating in a series of incendiary raids that climaxed when the British burned Washington, D.C. in August 1814. With some notable exceptions, the military and political leadership on both sides was stunningly incompetent, and the two sides slugged to a standstill without accomplishing much of anything. As Berton sums it up: "The two forces resemble equally matched prize fighters, staggering about the ring in the last round, scarcely able to raise their arms in combat."
While the historical consequences of the war were enormous, reading the detailed accounts of the battles was depressing rather than edifying. Each battle was different yet mind-numbingly the same.
The war in the American West is not dealt with in any depth, so I was rather stunned to come across the name of William Clark in a shocking context.
Then, on June 21, two voyageurs beach a small bark canoe under the brow of the frowning cliffs and inform [British Lt. Colonel] McDouall that that an American raiding party, three hundred strong, has seized Prairie du Chien on the Upper Mississippi. Its leader is General William Clark, Governor of Missouri. The following day, the Tête du Chien, one of the leading chiefs of the Winnebago, arrives with a grisly tale. Clark, on capturing the settlement, seized eight Winnebago, cajoled them at first with kindness, set food before them, and then as they were eating had them murdered in cold blood. Only one escaped. Worse was to follow. Clark shut up four others in a log building and then shot them. One was the Tête du Chien's brother, and another the wife of Wabasha, first chief of the Sioux.
This seemed like something I'd remember in my research about William Clark for our novel. I went and checked my Clark biographies; one made no mention of the incident at all. Landon Y. Jones's biography discusses the Prairie du Chien campaign in some detail, and mentioned the claim of the Tête du Chien. Jones says that the Tête was the sole source for the story and it was never confirmed by any other witnesses. He notes other contemporary sources that say some Indians were killed in an escape attempt after the battle.
I guess it's another historical case of "he said-he said." I must say the incident would be completely out of character for Clark as I understand him, and doesn't jibe with any portion of his career either before or after the war. Clark was well-liked by Native Americans throughout his life, which would hardly seem likely if he had committed such an atrocity.
Moreover, Clark, who negotiated a number of land treaties with the Indians, once told a nephew that he was afraid he would go to hell for his sharp dealing with the naive natives. If Clark had murdered a group of innocents in cold blood, I find it doubtful that a little lying would have bothered his conscience.