Chapter Summary
North America divided into two vast regions, one
inclining towards the Pole, the other towards the Equator—Valley of the
Mississippi—Traces of the Revolutions of the Globe—Shore of the Atlantic Ocean
where the English Colonies were founded—Difference in the appearance of North
and of South America at the time of their Discovery—Forests of North
America—Prairies—Wandering Tribes of Natives—Their outward appearance, manners,
and language—Traces of an unknown people.
Exterior Form Of North America
North America presents in its external form certain
general features which it is easy to discriminate at the first glance. A sort
of methodical order seems to have regulated the separation of land and water,
mountains and valleys. A simple, but grand, arrangement is discoverable amidst
the confusion of objects and the prodigious variety of scenes. This continent
is divided, almost equally, into two vast regions, one of which is bounded on
the north by the Arctic Pole, and by the two great oceans on the east and west.
It stretches towards the south, forming a triangle whose irregular sides meet
at length below the great lakes of Canada. The second region begins where the
other terminates, and includes all the remainder of the continent. The one
slopes gently towards the Pole, the other towards the Equator.
The territory comprehended in the first region descends
towards the north with so imperceptible a slope that it may almost be said to
form a level plain. Within the bounds of this immense tract of country there
are neither high mountains nor deep valleys. Streams meander through it
irregularly: great rivers mix their currents, separate and meet again, disperse
and form vast marshes, losing all trace of their channels in the labyrinth of
waters they have themselves created; and thus, at length, after innumerable
windings, fall into the Polar Seas. The great lakes which bound this first
region are not walled in, like most of those in the Old World, between hills
and rocks. Their banks are flat, and rise but a few feet above the level of
their waters; each of them thus forming a vast bowl filled to the brim. The
slightest change in the structure of the globe would cause their waters to rush
either towards the Pole or to the tropical sea.
The second region is more varied on its surface, and
better suited for the habitation of man. Two long chains of mountains divide it
from one extreme to the other; the Alleghany ridge takes the form of the shores
of the Atlantic Ocean; the other is parallel with the Pacific. The space which
lies between these two chains of mountains contains 1,341,649 square miles. *a
Its surface is therefore about six times as great as that of France. This vast
territory, however, forms a single valley, one side of which descends gradually
from the rounded summits of the Alleghanies, while the other rises in an
uninterrupted course towards the tops of the Rocky Mountains. At the bottom of
the valley flows an immense river, into which the various streams issuing from
the mountains fall from all parts. In memory of their native land, the French
formerly called this river the St. Louis. The Indians, in their pompous
language, have named it the Father of Waters, or the Mississippi.
a [ Darby's "View of the United States."]
The Mississippi takes its source above the limit of the
two great regions of which I have spoken, not far from the highest point of the
table-land where they unite. Near the same spot rises another river, *b which
empties itself into the Polar seas. The course of the Mississippi is at first
dubious: it winds several times towards the north, from whence it rose; and at
length, after having been delayed in lakes and marshes, it flows slowly onwards
to the south. Sometimes quietly gliding along the argillaceous bed which nature
has assigned to it, sometimes swollen by storms, the Mississippi waters 2,500
miles in its course. *c At the distance of 1,364 miles from its mouth this river
attains an average depth of fifteen feet; and it is navigated by vessels of 300
tons burden for a course of nearly 500 miles. Fifty-seven large navigable
rivers contribute to swell the waters of the Mississippi; amongst others, the
Missouri, which traverses a space of 2,500 miles; the Arkansas of 1,300 miles,
the Red River 1,000 miles, four whose course is from 800 to 1,000 miles in
length, viz., the Illinois, the St. Peter's, the St. Francis, and the Moingona;
besides a countless multitude of rivulets which unite from all parts their
tributary streams.
b [ The Red River.]
c [ Warden's "Description of the United
States."]
The valley which is watered by the Mississippi seems
formed to be the bed of this mighty river, which, like a god of antiquity, dispenses
both good and evil in its course. On the shores of the stream nature displays
an inexhaustible fertility; in proportion as you recede from its banks, the
powers of vegetation languish, the soil becomes poor, and the plants that
survive have a sickly growth. Nowhere have the great convulsions of the globe
left more evident traces than in the valley of the Mississippi; the whole
aspect of the country shows the powerful effects of water, both by its
fertility and by its barrenness. The waters of the primeval ocean accumulated
enormous beds of vegetable mould in the valley, which they levelled as they
retired. Upon the right shore of the river are seen immense plains, as smooth
as if the husbandman had passed over them with his roller. As you approach the mountains
the soil becomes more and more unequal and sterile; the ground is, as it were,
pierced in a thousand places by primitive rocks, which appear like the bones of
a skeleton whose flesh is partly consumed. The surface of the earth is covered
with a granite sand and huge irregular masses of stone, among which a few
plants force their growth, and give the appearance of a green field covered
with the ruins of a vast edifice. These stones and this sand discover, on
examination, a perfect analogy with those which compose the arid and broken
summits of the Rocky Mountains. The flood of waters which washed the soil to
the bottom of the valley afterwards carried away portions of the rocks
themselves; and these, dashed and bruised against the neighboring cliffs, were
left scattered like wrecks at their feet. *d The valley of the Mississippi is,
upon the whole, the most magnificent dwelling-place prepared by God for man's
abode; and yet it may be said that at present it is but a mighty desert.
d [ See Appendix, A.]
On the eastern side of the Alleghanies, between the base
of these mountains and the Atlantic Ocean, there lies a long ridge of rocks and
sand, which the sea appears to have left behind as it retired. The mean breadth
of this territory does not exceed one hundred miles; but it is about nine
hundred miles in length. This part of the American continent has a soil which
offers every obstacle to the husbandman, and its vegetation is scanty and
unvaried.
Upon this inhospitable coast the first united efforts of
human industry were made. The tongue of arid land was the cradle of those
English colonies which were destined one day to become the United States of
America. The centre of power still remains here; whilst in the backwoods the
true elements of the great people to whom the future control of the continent
belongs are gathering almost in secrecy together.
When the Europeans first landed on the shores of the West
Indies, and afterwards on the coast of South America, they thought themselves
transported into those fabulous regions of which poets had sung. The sea
sparkled with phosphoric light, and the extraordinary transparency of its
waters discovered to the view of the navigator all that had hitherto been
hidden in the deep abyss. *e Here and there appeared little islands perfumed
with odoriferous plants, and resembling baskets of flowers floating on the
tranquil surface of the ocean. Every object which met the sight, in this
enchanting region, seemed prepared to satisfy the wants or contribute to the pleasures
of man. Almost all the trees were loaded with nourishing fruits, and those
which were useless as food delighted the eye by the brilliancy and variety of
their colors. In groves of fragrant lemon-trees, wild figs, flowering myrtles,
acacias, and oleanders, which were hung with festoons of various climbing
plants, covered with flowers, a multitude of birds unknown in Europe displayed
their bright plumage, glittering with purple and azure, and mingled their
warbling with the harmony of a world teeming with life and motion. *f
Underneath this brilliant exterior death was concealed. But the air of these
climates had so enervating an influence that man, absorbed by present
enjoyment, was rendered regardless of the future.
e [ Malte Brun tells us (vol. v. p. 726) that the water
of the Caribbean Sea is so transparent that corals and fish are discernible at
a depth of sixty fathoms. The ship seemed to float in air, the navigator became
giddy as his eye penetrated through the crystal flood, and beheld submarine
gardens, or beds of shells, or gilded fishes gliding among tufts and thickets
of seaweed.]
f [ See Appendix, B.]
North America appeared under a very different aspect;
there everything was grave, serious, and solemn: it seemed created to be the
domain of intelligence, as the South was that of sensual delight. A turbulent
and foggy ocean washed its shores. It was girt round by a belt of granite
rocks, or by wide tracts of sand. The foliage of its woods was dark and gloomy,
for they were composed of firs, larches, evergreen oaks, wild olive-trees, and
laurels. Beyond this outer belt lay the thick shades of the central forest,
where the largest trees which are produced in the two hemispheres grow side by
side. The plane, the catalpa, the sugar-maple, and the Virginian poplar mingled
their branches with those of the oak, the beech, and the lime. In these, as in
the forests of the Old World, destruction was perpetually going on. The ruins
of vegetation were heaped upon each other; but there was no laboring hand to
remove them, and their decay was not rapid enough to make room for the
continual work of reproduction. Climbing plants, grasses, and other herbs
forced their way through the mass of dying trees; they crept along their
bending trunks, found nourishment in their dusty cavities, and a passage
beneath the lifeless bark. Thus decay gave its assistance to life, and their
respective productions were mingled together. The depths of these forests were
gloomy and obscure, and a thousand rivulets, undirected in their course by
human industry, preserved in them a constant moisture. It was rare to meet with
flowers, wild fruits, or birds beneath their shades. The fall of a tree
overthrown by age, the rushing torrent of a cataract, the lowing of the
buffalo, and the howling of the wind were the only sounds which broke the
silence of nature.
To the east of the great river, the woods almost
disappeared; in their stead were seen prairies of immense extent. Whether
Nature in her infinite variety had denied the germs of trees to these fertile
plains, or whether they had once been covered with forests, subsequently
destroyed by the hand of man, is a question which neither tradition nor
scientific research has been able to resolve.
These immense deserts were not, however, devoid of human
inhabitants. Some wandering tribes had been for ages scattered among the forest
shades or the green pastures of the prairie. From the mouth of the St. Lawrence
to the delta of the Mississippi, and from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean,
these savages possessed certain points of resemblance which bore witness of
their common origin; but at the same time they differed from all other known
races of men: *g they were neither white like the Europeans, nor yellow like
most of the Asiatics, nor black like the negroes. Their skin was reddish brown,
their hair long and shining, their lips thin, and their cheekbones very
prominent. The languages spoken by the North American tribes are various as far
as regarded their words, but they were subject to the same grammatical rules.
These rules differed in several points from such as had been observed to govern
the origin of language. The idiom of the Americans seemed to be the product of
new combinations, and bespoke an effort of the understanding of which the Indians
of our days would be incapable. *h
g [ With the progress of discovery some resemblance has
been found to exist between the physical conformation, the language, and the
habits of the Indians of North America, and those of the Tongous, Mantchous, Mongols,
Tartars, and other wandering tribes of Asia. The land occupied by these tribes
is not very distant from Behring's Strait, which allows of the supposition,
that at a remote period they gave inhabitants to the desert continent of
America. But this is a point which has not yet been clearly elucidated by
science. See Malte Brun, vol. v.; the works of Humboldt; Fischer,
"Conjecture sur l'Origine des Americains"; Adair, "History of
the American Indians."]
h [ See Appendix, C.]
The social state of these tribes differed also in many
respects from all that was seen in the Old World. They seemed to have
multiplied freely in the midst of their deserts without coming in contact with
other races more civilized than their own. Accordingly, they exhibited none of
those indistinct, incoherent notions of right and wrong, none of that deep
corruption of manners, which is usually joined with ignorance and rudeness
among nations which, after advancing to civilization, have relapsed into a
state of barbarism. The Indian was indebted to no one but himself; his virtues,
his vices, and his prejudices were his own work; he had grown up in the wild
independence of his nature.
If, in polished countries, the lowest of the people are
rude and uncivil, it is not merely because they are poor and ignorant, but
that, being so, they are in daily contact with rich and enlightened men. The
sight of their own hard lot and of their weakness, which is daily contrasted
with the happiness and power of some of their fellow-creatures, excites in
their hearts at the same time the sentiments of anger and of fear: the
consciousness of their inferiority and of their dependence irritates while it
humiliates them. This state of mind displays itself in their manners and
language; they are at once insolent and servile. The truth of this is easily
proved by observation; the people are more rude in aristocratic countries than
elsewhere, in opulent cities than in rural districts. In those places where the
rich and powerful are assembled together the weak and the indigent feel
themselves oppressed by their inferior condition. Unable to perceive a single
chance of regaining their equality, they give up to despair, and allow
themselves to fall below the dignity of human nature.
This unfortunate effect of the disparity of conditions is
not observable in savage life: the Indians, although they are ignorant and
poor, are equal and free. At the period when Europeans first came among them
the natives of North America were ignorant of the value of riches, and indifferent
to the enjoyments which civilized man procures to himself by their means.
Nevertheless there was nothing coarse in their demeanor; they practised an
habitual reserve and a kind of aristocratic politeness. Mild and hospitable
when at peace, though merciless in war beyond any known degree of human
ferocity, the Indian would expose himself to die of hunger in order to succor
the stranger who asked admittance by night at the door of his hut; yet he could
tear in pieces with his hands the still quivering limbs of his prisoner. The
famous republics of antiquity never gave examples of more unshaken courage,
more haughty spirits, or more intractable love of independence than were hidden
in former times among the wild forests of the New World. *i The Europeans
produced no great impression when they landed upon the shores of North America;
their presence engendered neither envy nor fear. What influence could they
possess over such men as we have described? The Indian could live without
wants, suffer without complaint, and pour out his death-song at the stake. *j
Like all the other members of the great human family, these savages believed in
the existence of a better world, and adored under different names, God, the
creator of the universe. Their notions on the great intellectual truths were in
general simple and philosophical. *k
i [ We learn from President Jefferson's "Notes upon
Virginia," p. 148, that among the Iroquois, when attacked by a superior
force, aged men refused to fly or to survive the destruction of their country;
and they braved death like the ancient Romans when their capital was sacked by
the Gauls. Further on, p. 150, he tells us that there is no example of an
Indian who, having fallen into the hands of his enemies, begged for his life;
on the contrary, the captive sought to obtain death at the hands of his
conquerors by the use of insult and provocation.]
j [ See "Histoire de la Louisiane," by Lepage
Dupratz; Charlevoix, "Histoire de la Nouvelle France"; "Lettres
du Rev. G. Hecwelder;" "Transactions of the American Philosophical
Society," v. I; Jefferson's "Notes on Virginia," pp. 135-190.
What is said by Jefferson is of especial weight, on account of the personal
merit of the writer, of his peculiar position, and of the matter-of-fact age in
which he lived.]
k [ See Appendix, D.]
Although we have here traced the character of a primitive
people, yet it cannot be doubted that another people, more civilized and more
advanced in all respects, had preceded it in the same regions.
An obscure tradition which prevailed among the Indians to
the north of the Atlantic informs us that these very tribes formerly dwelt on
the west side of the Mississippi. Along the banks of the Ohio, and throughout
the central valley, there are frequently found, at this day, tumuli raised by
the hands of men. On exploring these heaps of earth to their centre, it is
usual to meet with human bones, strange instruments, arms and utensils of all
kinds, made of metal, or destined for purposes unknown to the present race. The
Indians of our time are unable to give any information relative to the history
of this unknown people. Neither did those who lived three hundred years ago,
when America was first discovered, leave any accounts from which even an
hypothesis could be formed. Tradition—that perishable, yet ever renewed
monument of the pristine world—throws no light upon the subject. It is an
undoubted fact, however, that in this part of the globe thousands of our
fellow-beings had lived. When they came hither, what was their origin, their
destiny, their history, and how they perished, no one can tell. How strange
does it appear that nations have existed, and afterwards so completely
disappeared from the earth that the remembrance of their very names is effaced;
their languages are lost; their glory is vanished like a sound without an echo;
though perhaps there is not one which has not left behind it some tomb in
memory of its passage! The most durable monument of human labor is that which
recalls the wretchedness and nothingness of man.
Although the vast country which we have been describing
was inhabited by many indigenous tribes, it may justly be said at the time of
its discovery by Europeans to have formed one great desert. The Indians
occupied without possessing it. It is by agricultural labor that man
appropriates the soil, and the early inhabitants of North America lived by the
produce of the chase. Their implacable prejudices, their uncontrolled passions,
their vices, and still more perhaps their savage virtues, consigned them to
inevitable destruction. The ruin of these nations began from the day when
Europeans landed on their shores; it has proceeded ever since, and we are now
witnessing the completion of it. They seem to have been placed by Providence
amidst the riches of the New World to enjoy them for a season, and then
surrender them. Those coasts, so admirably adapted for commerce and industry;
those wide and deep rivers; that inexhaustible valley of the Mississippi; the
whole continent, in short, seemed prepared to be the abode of a great nation,
yet unborn.
In that land the great experiment was to be made, by
civilized man, of the attempt to construct society upon a new basis; and it was
there, for the first time, that theories hitherto unknown, or deemed impracticable,
were to exhibit a spectacle for which the world had not been prepared by the
history of the past.
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