Kate Mulhall A romance of the Oregon Trail
not navigable. There we slept, and this morning made the portage.
All were obliged to land, unload, carry our baggage and even the boat
for half a mile.
I had frequently seen a picture of Indians carrying a canoe, but now
saw the reality. We found plenty of Indians here to assist in making
the portage. After loading several with our baggage and sending them
on, the boat was turned over and placed upon the heads of about
twenty of them, who easily marched off with it.
September 9th.
We came to The Dalles just before noon. Here our boat was stopped by
two rocks of immense size and height, all the water of the river
passing with great rapidity between them in a very narrow channel.
We were obliged to land and make a portage of two and a half miles,
carrying the boat again.
The Dalles is a great fishing resort for Indians of several tribes;
we did not see many, however, for they had just left.
At Vancouver they were also cordially received and hospitably
entertained by that grand old man, Dr. John McLoughlin. It was a
never to be forgotten sight for me to observe this representative of
the all-powerful English fur company, of towering stature and
knightly dignity, standing with hat in hand at the portal of the fort
graciously bending to salute and welcome the two first white women to
set foot upon the immense territory over which he then held
undisputed sway. It was not a mere formal {271} greeting, but a
genuine expression of satisfaction to see devoted men and women
coming into the territory to improve both the spiritual and temporal
condition of his Indian wards, in whose welfare he was deeply
interested--for McLoughlin was by nature benevolent.
In consultation with Whitman, he advised the latter to establish his
Mission somewhere east of the Cascade Mountains, for the reason that
the Indians of the interior were mentally and physically superior to
those near the coast, as well as more likely to adopt the rudiments
of civilization and accept Christianity from the missionaries.
Thereupon Whitman, Spalding and Gray returned up the Columbia to the
vicinity of Fort Walla Walla for the purpose of selecting a site,
while the women remained at Fort Vancouver as Dr. McLoughlin's guests
until a Mission House could be erected.
After looking over the country for several days they decided that a
point called Waiilatpu, on the Walla Walla River about thirty miles
from its mouth, would be a desirable location for a Mission, as it
was convenient to the habitat of the Cayuse and Walla Walla tribes
and reasonably near the headquarters of the Hudson's Bay Company for
that vicinity, in case trouble should arise. Work was immediately
begun upon the construction of a comfortable log dwelling roofed with
poles covered with straw and dirt thrown upon the top, which very
well suited the purpose for which it was intended.
A site for another Mission to be in charge of Rev. Mr. Spalding was
located among the Nez Perces on the Clearwater River about 100 miles
northeast of Waiilatpu. Mr. Spalding then returned to Fort Vancouver
for the ladies, while Dr. Whitman continued work on the dwelling. In
about three weeks Mrs. Whitman arrived at Waiilatpu, and the
Spaldings went on to the Clearwater.
At this isolated and unattractive Mission in the midst of uncivilized
and unappreciative aborigines, practically shut off from people of
her own race and tongue, Narcissa Whitman spent eleven long weary
years in the prime of her young womanhood, endeavoring to enlighten
the {272} minds and improve and elevate the morals of the savages,
with no hope or prospect of being rewarded in this life, except by
the consciousness of doing the utmost for her fellow mortals, and
that her work might be pleasing in the eyes of God. The sacrifice of
her own life was her only visible reward.
In 1839 a great sorrow fell upon the Whitman household. They had a
beautiful little girl, an only child who was suddenly snatched away
from her loving parents, without the slightest inkling of approaching
danger or cause for apprehension. The poignancy of Mrs. Whitman's
grief was intensified by the peculiar circumstances surrounding them
at the time.
She was in a wilderness inhabited by cruel and treacherous Indians,
cut off by nearly three thousand miles from the old home and her own
family, with only Dr. Whitman to lend a helping hand or console her
with a loving voice; and he was overwhelmed with pressing duties.
Her anguish was beyond description, but with true Christian courage
and exalted faith she bowed to the Divine will. What sublime
resignation!
I have a copy of the characteristic letter she wrote to her father on
that sorrowful occasion, from which I will now read:
Waiilatpu, Sept. 30, 1839.
MY DEAREST FATHER:
Doubtless before this you have heard through the Board of the
melancholy death of our most precious and only child, Alice Clarissa.
That we loved her most ardently is true, and we feel keenly the
severe pangs of a separation from her. Yet it is the Lord that hath
done it, and He has dealt with us as a tender parent deals with the
children He loves. O, how often have I felt and thought what a
privilege it would be, if I could see and unburden to my dear parents
the sorrows of my broken and bleeding heart since we have been bereft
of our dear, sweet babe.
Although deprived of this inestimable consolation yet, dearest
father, I desire to ask you to unite with us in praise and gratitude
to God who has so mercifully sustained me, and that when crushed to
the earth because His hand lay heavily upon me, His grace was
manifest to preserve and sustain my soul from murmuring or repining
at His dealings with us.
{273}
This unspeakable consolation is ours, that our daughter is at rest in
the bosom of Him who said, "Suffer the little children to come unto
me, for of such in the kingdom of heaven." Young as she was, we
could plainly see a manifest relish and enjoyment in singing and
worship; the last month of her life she commenced learning to read,
and improved rapidly.
I would describe to you if I could her bright, lively appearance on
Sabbath morning, the day of her death. She had always slept with me
until just a week before then, and that night she proposed, of her
own accord, to sleep on the mat on the floor. This gave me a very
strange and singular feeling, for I never before could persuade her
to lie away from me, not even in her father's arms * * *. It being
very warm, and because she preferred it, I let her sleep on the floor
all night--but did not sleep much myself. Ever after this I made a
bed for her by the side of mine, where I could lay my hand upon her.
Her appearance at worship in the family was deeply interesting. For
some time she had been in the habit of selecting the hymn she wished
us to sing, and that morning her choice was "Rock of Ages Cleft for
Me." Oh, if dear father and mother could have seen with what
animation she sang, and how her sweet voice soared above ours!
* * * * * * * * * * *
Dear father, when you sing this hymn think of me, for my thoughts do
not recur to it without almost overcoming me and bringing fresh to my
mind how she appeared when she last sang it.
NARCISSA.
That letter bears the impress of having been written by a superior
woman suffering the keenest pangs of a mother's grief, yet bearing it
with all the fortitude and resignation of the early Christian martyrs.
The tragedy happened on a Sabbath morning, while Dr. and Mrs. Whitman
were reading the scriptures. Alice Clarissa went to bring some water
from the river which flowed near-by the Mission House, as she had
done many times before. She went from the house with a cup in each
hand, bounding down to the river bank to fulfill her errand, and
returned no more.
How it happened is simply conjecture, as there was no witness when
the cold waters of the Walla Walla River fanned out the precious life
of this first white American {274} child born west of the Rocky
Mountains. The little mound that marked her grave not far from the
house was kept green and bedecked with flowers until the day of the
massacre and destruction of the Mission.
The missionaries--particularly Rev. Mr. Spalding and Dr.
Whitman--never worked in harmony after their arrival in the Indian
country. It is said that the bitterness of Mr. Spalding against Mrs.
Whitman continued from the time he was a suitor for her hand; and
that the rankling of it led at least to a lack of co-operation on his
part with his successful rival, the Doctor, in carrying on the
Mission work. I will read a letter of Mrs. Whitman to her father,
which throws a flood of light upon the subject:
Waiilatpu, Walla Walla River,
Oregon Territory, Oct. 10, 1810.
MY DEAR FATHER:
The missionaries' greatest trials are but little known to the
churches. I have never ventured to write about them for fear it
might hurt. The man who came with us ought never to have come. My
dear husband has suffered more in consequence of his wicked jealousy
and great pique towards me than can be known in this world. Not he
alone but the whole Mission suffers, which is most to be deplored.
It has nearly broken up the Mission.
The pretended settlement with father before we started was only an
excuse; and from all we have seen and heard, both during the journey
and since we have been here, the same bitter feeling exists. * * *.
I never did anything before I left home to injure him, and nothing
since; and my husband is cautious in speaking and thinking evil of
him or treating him unkindly; yet he does not, nor has he received
the same kindness from him since we have been missionaries together.
Every mind in the Mission that he has had access to he has tried to
prejudice against us, and did succeed for awhile, which was the cause
of our being voted to remove and form a new station. This was too
much for my husband's feelings to bear, and so many arrayed against
him for no good reason. He felt as if he must leave the Mission, and
no doubt would have done it had not the Lord removed from us our
beloved child. This affliction softened his feelings and made him
willing to submit to the will of the Lord, although we felt that we
were suffering wrongfully.
The death of our babe had a great effect upon all in the {275}
Mission; it softened their hearts towards us, even Mr. S's for a
season. * * * The Lord in His providence has brought things around in
such a way that all see and feel where the evil lies. Some of them
are writing to the Board; and it may require his removal or return to
effect it, not so much for his treatment towards us as some others
also.
* * *. I have long desired to have some few judicious friends know
our trials, so that they may understand better how to pray for us.
If this Mission fails, it will be because peace and harmony does not
dwell among its members. Our ardent desire and prayer is that it may
not fail. It is this state of things among us that discourage us.
When we look at the people and the providence of God, we are more and
more encouraged every year.
As ever, I remain, your affectionate daughter,
NARCISSA WHITMAN.
During the early days of the Mission the Whitmans devoted themselves
almost exclusively to the difficult task of inducing the Indians to
receive instruction in both spiritual and temporal matters. The
Doctor was rough and ready in his manner, outspoken in his opinions
and, particularly, vigorous in his actions; when the Indians did not