Kitabı oku: «Ocean to Ocean on Horseback», sayfa 12
CHAPTER XVI.
TOLEDO TO DETROIT
Seventy-second Day
Erie Hotel,Erie, Michigan,July 22, 1876.
My Toledo friends were ready at the Boody House to give me good-bye when I mounted at nine o'clock, and I received a right hearty send-off. Upon leaving the city, instead of continuing westward as usual toward the "Golden Gate," I had determined for various reasons to swing off from the direct course, and ride northward to Detroit, moving thence to Chicago. This new route would take me through Monroe, a town with which the life of General Custer was more closely associated than any other, and knowing that I would find much there that would give me a more intimate knowledge of the man, I looked forward to this part of my journey with eager anticipation.
The ride to Erie being at some distance from the lake, and over a flat region, was rather monotonous. Erie itself is a small unimportant hamlet at the western end of the lake, and a modest landmark in my journey from Toledo to Detroit. Paul, probably impressed with the air of peace that enveloped the place, made up his mind upon his arrival to give the good people a display of his mettle, and accordingly tore through the village streets in the wildest fashion. Having thus introduced himself, he pranced after I had dismounted until he had had enough; then returning to his master, his eyes seeming to flash mischief, he looked as though he would have said, had he been given the power of speech: "I have been having a fine time, haven't I? and would you like to mount me and enjoy the fun too? but I dare you!"
When his superabundant spirits had found vent, I had him led away and myself attended to his wants. Beyond this animated exhibition of my horse the day passed uneventfully, and at night I enjoyed to its fullest extent the quietude of a country inn.
Seventy-third Day
Erie Hotel,Erie, Michigan,July Twenty-third.
Weather cool and pleasant; went to church in the morning and listened to a sermon by Rev. E. P. Willard, on the text, "Remember the Sabbath Day to keep it holy." Doubtless the preacher had his reasons for bringing to the minds of the Erieans this particular command, but judging from appearances they needed a very mild admonition. It looked as though every day were Sunday here.
A letter reached me at this point from my wife, full of concern as to my welfare if the journey were to be continued across the Plains; and as she was in very indifferent health at the time, I was about to abandon my purpose and return. The news of Custer's tragic death had reached the East, and my intended route running as it did across the Indian country, filled my friends with apprehension. Closely following this letter, however, came another, informing me that my wife was improving, and, with this assurance, I decided not to turn back. By this time, the freedom and charm of this mode of travel had aroused my enthusiasm; the imaginary line, losing itself in the Pacific, promised a rich experience, and the opportunity was golden. The good news from home was therefore joyfully received.
Seventy-fourth Day
Strong's Hotel,Monroe, Michigan,July Twenty-fourth.
I was detained at Erie until after dinner, spending part of the forenoon in a blacksmith shop, where Paul was being shod. By two o'clock I was on the road again, riding briskly toward Monroe, for the weather was so much cooler than it had been during the previous week, that I could move comfortably at a good pace. Paul seemed very proud of his new shoes, and, although I halted two or three times, covered something over ten miles by five o'clock.
As I reached the outskirts of Monroe, I was considerably surprised to find a large number of people assembled on the picnic grounds. They were accompanied by a band, and greeted me with several national air, including "Hail Columbia" and the "Star-Spangled Banner." The Custer Monument Association received me at the City Hall, where I had been announced to lecture in the evening, as it was my intention to speak in the interest of the Fund; but the date was changed to the Thursday following my arrival, with a view to giving its members an opportunity to co-operate with my advance agents.
Great enthusiasm was everywhere apparent, and the people of Monroe needed no urging to lend their patronage, when the movement was likely to reflect honor upon their illustrious dead.
My emotions upon entering this town, long the dearest place in all the world to Custer, can better be imagined than described. That it was a favorite with him is not strange, for aside from the tender associations which it held for him, its pretty homes and broad streets, deeply shaded by maples, make it a most lovely spot and the very type of peace.
Seventy-fifth Day
Strong's Hotel,Monroe, Michigan,July Twenty-fifth.
Wrote to my mother in the morning, and after dinner took a stroll about town. Beyond its associations with Custer, Monroe is interesting through its connection with one of the most romantic and sanguinary scenes connected with the war between Great Britain and the United States; for on the banks of the River Raisin, which runs through it to the lake, occurred the famous Indian massacre of 1812. Relics of the bloody encounter are still found on the field.
It was at a time when the British were making successful inroads upon Michigan, and General Winchester, at the head of eight hundred Kentuckians, had been ordered to Frenchtown, the old name for Monroe, the same point toward which General Miller had previously moved on a mission equally fatal.
Winchester was warned of the advance of the enemy, but thought there was no cause for immediate alarm, and on the night before the engagement, he crossed to the side of the river opposite his men, leaving the camp open to attack. The result was, that he awoke the next morning to find Proctor's troops putting his men to rout, at the point of the bayonet, while their Indian allies were adding to the confusion by their deadly assault.
Although a part of the Americans escaped on the ice of the river, the field was covered with their dead and wounded, General Winchester being among the former. When the engagement was over, Proctor rode away, leaving a detachment to guard the prisoners and wounded, with instructions that no violence was to be committed; but some of the savages who followed him having become intoxicated, returned and fell upon the prisoners with unrestrained frenzy. Most of the latter had been placed in two small cabins. These were fired, and the victims perished in the flames, the Indians pushing them back when they attempted to escape through the small windows. The remainder were massacred and their bodies left a prey to the wolves. It was this horrible affair that aroused the Americans and particularly the Kentuckians to revenge; and when Tecumseh, the Shawnee warrior, who was the chief instigator of these atrocities, urged the British to hazard an engagement at the Thames, after their defeat by Perry, they prepared to return with full interest the blow given their comrades on the Raisin. The battle of the Thames is well known. Tecumseh, with the war cry on his lips, met his reward through a Kentucky bullet early enough in the fight to be spared the shame of defeat. With him fell a powerful foe, but one whom we must admire even in his death.
"Like monumental bronze, unchanged his look,
As one whom pity touched, but never shook;
Train'd from his tree-rocked cradle to his bier
The fierce extremes of good and ill to brook.
Unchanging, fearing but the shame of fear,
A stoic of the woods, a man without a tear."
Seventy-sixth Day
Strong's Hotel,Monroe, Michigan,July Twenty-sixth.
Received a large forwarded mail from my advance agents and others, which I attended to in the afternoon. I was also favored with Detroit papers referring to my proposed lecture in that city, and the following notice from the Monroe Monitor, which, together with letters from the Fund Association, I kept as souvenirs of my stay at this place:
"The lecture announced to be given for the benefit of the Custer Monument Fund, on Monday evening, at the City Hall, was postponed for various reasons until Thursday evening, at the same place. On Monday evening several members of the association met Captain Willard Glazier, and were most favorably impressed with him. They are convinced that he is thoroughly in earnest, and that his proposition is a most liberal one. He offers to give the entire proceeds of his lecture to the association; and not only in this city, but throughout the State, he generously offers to do the same thing. This is certainly deserving of the warm recognition of our own people, at least, and we hope on Thursday evening to see the City Hall filled. Captain Glazier comes with the strongest endorsements from well-known gentlemen in the East, both as to his character as a gentleman and a soldier, and his ability as a speaker and writer. The Captain served under the late General Custer in the cavalry, and has something to say regarding his personal knowledge of the dead hero."
When I started from Boston in May, I little dreamed that before my journey was finished the troubles in the West with the Sioux would bring such a result as this! It is true, affairs in Montana and Wyoming territories had assumed a threatening aspect, but no one doubted the efficacy of "Custer's luck," and those who followed the campaign looked upon it as a dramatic and striking incident, rather than a tragic one.
News was slow in reaching points east of the Mississippi and was then often unreliable, so that if I may judge from personal observation, the people were wholly unprepared for the final result which was flashed across the country on the fifth of July.
Seventy-seventh Day
Strong's Hotel,Monroe, Michigan,July Twenty-seventh.
Rose at an early hour in the morning, and was very busily occupied during the day with correspondence and preparations for my lecture. The people of Monroe had asked that I would tell them something of my experience with Custer during the late war before beginning the lecture, as everything relating to him was at that time of the most thrilling interest to them. It was not difficult to comply with this request. The old scenes of 1863 were as fresh in memory as though they had been witnessed but yesterday.
My first meeting with Custer was at the third battle of Brandy Station on the twelfth of September, 1863, as the Cavalry Corps then acting as the advance of the Army of the Potomac was moving toward Culpeper in pursuit of Lee's retreating columns. Custer had but recently been commissioned brigadier-general and this was the first time he went into action at the head of his brigade. His appearance was very conspicuous. A mere boy in years, gorgeously equipped, in short, bearing upon his person all the gold lace and other paraphernalia allowed his rank, he formed a striking figure – such a one as is seldom seen on the battlefield. His arrival at Brandy Station was at a critical juncture, and while we were momentarily expecting a conflict with Stuart's cavalry, then directly in our front, all had a curiosity to see how the gayly dressed brigadier would acquit himself. It seemed to be the general impression that he would not have the nerve to "face the music" with his bandbox equipment, but he soon proved himself equal to the occasion. Being ordered to charge the enemy, he snatched his cap from his head, handed it to his orderly, drew his sword and dashed to the front of his brigade, then formed in column of squadrons. The command "Forward!" was instantly given. A moment later "Trot!" was sounded; then "Gallop!" and "Charge!" and before the Confederates had time to realize that we really intended an attack, they were swept from the field, and a section of a battery with which they had been opposing our advance was in the possession of the young general and his gallant cavalrymen.
No soldier who saw him on that day at Brandy Station ever questioned his right to a star, or all the gold lace he felt inclined to wear. He at once became a favorite in the Army of the Potomac and his fame was soon heralded throughout the country. After this engagement I saw Custer at Culpeper and Cedar Mountain, and in the skirmishes along the Rapidan during Lee's retreat from Gettysburg; later, when Lee again advanced through Northern Virginia, at Sulphur Springs, Newmarket, Bristoe and in the action of October 19, 1863, near New Baltimore, where I was taken prisoner.
The incidents which I recalled were those of war, but Custer's friends here gave me the incidents of peace. Mr. J. M. Bulkley, who is perhaps more intimately acquainted with the General's early life than any other man in Monroe, was his old school-chum and seat-mate at Stebbin's Academy.
When this institution was broken up, and its property sold, Mr. Bulkley bought the old desk at which he and Custer had sat, and on which as school-boys they had cut their initials. It stands in his store, and in it are kept all the papers relating to the Monument Fund.
Custer's next experience was in the Monroe Seminary, and it was while he was a student there that the pretty little face of his future wife flashed into his life. The story of this meeting is laughable and odd. Custer, then a rough, flaxen-haired lad, coming home one afternoon, his books under his arm, was passing Judge Bacon's residence, when a little brown-eyed girl swinging on the gate called out to him, "Hello, you Custer boy!" then, half-frightened by the blue eyes that glanced toward her, ran into the house. The little girl was Libbie Bacon, daughter of the Judge. It was love at first sight for Custer, and although they did not meet again for several years, he was determined to win the owner of those brown eyes.
Having finished a preliminary course of study and wishing to enter West Point, he urged his father to apply to John Bingham, then a member of Congress for the district in which Monroe was situated, for an appointment. This his father hesitated to do as Mr. Bingham's politics were opposed to his. The young man was therefore obliged to rely upon his own efforts. He called upon the dignitary himself. Mr. Bingham was pleased with the applicant, promised to lend his influence, and the result was that George Armstrong Custer ultimately received a formal notification from Washington, bearing the signature of Jefferson Davis, to the effect that the recipient was expected to report immediately to the commanding officer at West Point. His course there was about finished upon the breaking out of the late war. He went at once to Washington, and through General Scott was launched upon his military career. What sort of a soldier he was the world knows. What his character was the following incident may partially suggest. It occurred early in the war when Custer was beginning to feel somewhat discouraged over his affairs. He had already done much that was worthy of promotion and, having a boy's pride and ambition. Fate seemed to be against him. The clouds vanished one day, however, when the Army of the Potomac was encamped on the north bank of the Chickahominy near Richmond.
General Barnard, of the Engineers, starting out to discover if the river was fordable at a certain point, called upon Custer to accompany him. Arrived at the bank of the stream, he ordered the young officer to "jump in." He was instantly obeyed, although the pickets of the enemy were known to be on the opposite side, and dangerously near. Nor did Custer return, after having found that there was firm bottom, until he had made a thorough reconnoissance of the Confederate outposts.
Upon their return, Barnard rode up to McClellan, who was about to visit with his staff his own outposts, and began reporting the recently acquired information, while his late aide, wearied with the undertaking, and covered with Chickahominy mud, had fallen to the rear. Gradually it came out that Custer, and not Custer's superior officer, had performed the important duty. He was immediately called for, and to his great embarrassment, for his appearance was far from presentable, was asked by McClellan to make a report of the situation himself. At the end of the recital he was asked by his commander, to his amazement, how he would like to join his staff. McClellan had, by a rare power peculiar to him, in that short interview, won Custer's unfailing loyalty and affection, and when Custer was asked afterwards how he felt at the time, his eyes filled with tears, and he said: "I felt I could have died for him."
This promotion marked the beginning of his future success. In recalling his career, these simple lines, written by a poet unknown to me, and with which Frederick Whittaker, in his admirable life of Custer, brings his biography to a close, involuntarily suggest themselves:
"Who early thus upon the field of glory
Like thee doth fall, needs for his fame
Naught but the simple telling of his story,
The naming of his name."
Seventy-eighth Day
Varney House,Rockwood, Michigan,July Twenty-eighth.
Before ordering Paul in the morning, I called again at the home of the Custers. The General's father seemed greatly interested in my journey, and asked many questions concerning my plans for crossing the Plains. I was shown the rich and interesting collection of relics from the Indian country which Custer had accumulated, and which adds a picturesqueness to every corner of the house, and with these, some very striking photographs of the General taken in every variety of position and costume. After a pleasant chat, in the course of which Mr. Custer assured me of his kind solicitude, he walked back to the hotel with me to see me off.
While riding out of town, I met Mr. Bulkley, and was introduced to several gentlemen of his acquaintance, many of whom were schoolmates of Custer during his boyhood. Mr. Bulkley, speaking for the Monument Association, assured me that everything would be done that could further my wishes in Michigan.
The lecture last evening was well attended and proved a financial success. It was therefore gratifying to give the entire proceeds to the treasurer, Judge T. E. Wing, although he generously offered to divide. Parting with Mr. Bulkley, I continued on my route, my mind filled with the events of the three preceding days. Just beyond the town I halted to look back, and then, determined to prevent any sombre thoughts, which might follow, put spurs to Paul, who very soon covered the thirteen miles between Monroe and this place. As we neared the village, I caught sight of Huron River, the Wrockumiteogoe of the Indians, meaning, "clear water." On its banks are found those mysterious legacies of the Mound Builders – whether dwellings or tombs, remains for the antiquarian to determine.
Seventy-ninth Day
Farmers' Hotel,Ecorse, Michigan,July Twenty-ninth.
Moved from Rockwood at ten A. M., halting for a few minutes at Trenton, a small village seven miles north of Rockwood; and from there, riding on to Wyandotte, which I reached about one o'clock, and stopped only a moment at the Biddle House, finding that dinner was awaiting me at a private residence. I was ready to answer the hospitable summons promptly. Between two and five o'clock, I occupied part of the time in looking about the village, which is chiefly noted for its iron industries. Farm implements, iron ships, iron rails, and in fact everything that can be made out of iron, is produced here. After dinner I rode on to Ecorse, which is three miles beyond, and there found letters and papers telling me that I was expected at the Russell House, Detroit, on the evening of the coming Monday. Once within my hotel, I found the heat almost unbearable, but following a certain method which I had found by experience to be a successful one, I was enabled in a measure to improve my surroundings. To those who might think my modus operandi somewhat unbecoming, I would only suggest that they try my mode of travel through the same region of country, and at the same season of the year. Personal experience might change their opinion.
Having been shown to my apartment by the landlord or one of his assistants, I quietly entered and secured the door, betraying no surprise upon seeing the inevitable "feather bed." Taking off my coat, I began by removing the layers of mattresses, which had in them a wonderful reserve force of July heat. I then took my lamp and held it so that its lambent flame could warm the cockles of every mosquito's heart clinging to the ceiling. The mosquitoes, quite averse to the intense heat, quietly dropped into the little purgatory which I had prepared for them, and troubled me no more.
So did I secure my repose at the Farmers' Hotel, and in the morning was in the humor to give the good-natured proprietor, Louis Cicotte – a typical French Canadian – a very hearty greeting, and an assurance of my refreshment.
