USA > Tennessee > Old tales retold; or, Perils and adventures of Tennessee pioneers > Part 12
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A Typical Pioneer Life.
try," he needed no further proof that her fair person was fitly matched by her noble character.
Such was the beginning of a love story which re- sulted in a wedding and an "infair," a three days' feast, during which the good neighbors from all the country round came to congratulate the gallant bride- groom as, resplendent in velvet coat and lace, with buff-colored knee breeches and buckles and ruffles and ribboned cue, he stood beside the bride in her short-waisted brocade gown, veiled with a shower of shining hair whose extreme length the bridesmaids had sheared even with the border of the bridal robe. Here the story might end by saying, "They lived hap- py ever afterwards," for there was no happier pair, perhaps in all the world. But this were to leave un- told their life in the wilderness of Maury County, where a few years later Gideon Pillow went with his wife and two young children to seek his fortune in the fertile country then recently ceded to the white peo- ple by the Indians. It would be to say nothing of the journey thither by wagon, with household goods, live stock, and servants, nor tell how in the new clearing, surrounded by miles of uncut cane, Annie Payne Pil- low placed her simple furnishings on the bare ground, waiting while the log walls of their first rude dwelling rose around her.
Here for a while she lived fearlessly and cheerfully in the woods, though she might often be startled by the near scream of a panther or be awakened at night by the howling of wolves. It was not long, however, before the cabin was replaced by a permanent home, around which were fields and barns where flocks and herds multiplied. The growl of wild beasts had giv-
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en place to the cheerful sounds of loom and wheel whose constant bang and whirl testified to the indus- try of the young housewife. Under her skillful man- agement lard was rendered in its season and bacon cured. Soap was made in huge kettles, and tubs of snowy starch were pressed out from pounded wheat. At her command dairy and poultry yard, beehives, orchards, and maple trees, all yielded table delicacies in abundance, while her husband directed the labors that produced cotton and wool for clothing, and grain and stock for food. In truth the young pio- neers in their clearing in the wilderness were quite independent of the world which they seemed to have left forever behind them. Had the government itself been financially ruined, they would scarcely have felt the difference, for they had small need of money in their simple, rational life. Yet money, too, came in the course of years, as the country around them be- came thickly populated.
In the meantime there was nothing to interrupt their peace of mind unless it was a slight uneasiness when occasional bands of friendly Indians would wander back, in small parties, to haunt their old hunting grounds. Although the savage visitors usually en- tered the house unexpectedly and without ceremony, there appeared to be no real cause to fear them. All that was usually needed to keep the braves in fine humor until they chose to leave was some trifling gift-a piece of scarlet cloth, a string of beads, or a bright-colored picture, with the words: "They are yours. Give them to the squaw."
Nevertheless, Annie Payne Pillow had need of all her courage once when the Indians came. It was
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during her husband's absence from home. She was alone in her room, except for her baby Gideon, who was asleep in his cradle. Suddenly a shadow fell on the wall before her-the shadow of a man with tomahawk in hand ready to strike. She sprang to her feet, and turned to face a band of Cherokees. Almost as she turned the leader of the band had seized the would-be murderer, and with a powerful grip had hurled him out of doors, saying by way of apology for his follower, in the best English he knew, "Heap much whisky make bad Injun." Then leaning his gun against the wall he extended a hand, in token of friendship, with a short, guttural greeting of "How do?"
The visit was mercifully short. As soon as the childish savages had been feasted on battercakes (for which they called more rapidly than the cook could fry them, saying "Big Injun love heap battercakes") and had been loaded with trinkets they were ready to go. Hardly were the red men out of sight, though, before the drunken one was back again-alone. He staggered into the house, lurched over to the cradle, and lifting the infant from his pillow made off with him as fast as he could go with his unsteady feet. The young mother screamed aloud as she pursued them into the woods. Fortunately her cry of dis- tress reached the Cherokee leader, who hurried back to learn the cause of her alarm.
Among Indians one is accounted base who eats his brother's salt and repays the kindness with an injury. Such a man is despised even in his own tribe. Ac- cordingly, when the chief learned of his warrior's shameful act, he promptly seized him by the heels
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and ran off with him at full speed, dragging him with ingenious cruelty across a field of sharp-cut canes and stubble. The screams of agony which were heard trailing off in the distance showed that the kidnaper was suffering sufficiently for his crime, and that liq- uor had robbed him of the stoicism of the Indian na- ture.
Years afterwards, when the stolen infant had grown into the soldier, Gen. Gideon Pillow, con- spicuous in his country's wars, his mother, then an aged woman, delighted to gather her grandchildren and great-grandchildren about her knees and repeat to them the story of the drunken Indian and the child. Mrs. Annie Payne Pillow, one of the last of the hardy race of pioneers who by their courage and self-sacri- fice made our present privileges possible, was a note- worthy link between the earliest settlers in Tennessee and the living generation. Her numerous decendants scattered throughout the States have impressed them- selves upon the people among whom they live.
Some have inherited her patriotic zeal and courage to meet and overcome difficulties, and in others have reappeared her gifts of personal charm, particularly in her granddaughter, Miss Narcissa Saunders, who was in her day a belle and beauty in Washington City. Others of her descendants who are leaders in the com- munities in which they live bear witness to the far- reaching good influence of a typical pioneer life.
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TOMB OF GOVERNOR MERIWETHER LEWIS, Erected in Lewis County by the State of Tennessee.
XVII.
ON THE NATCHEZ TRACE WITH MERI- WETHER LEWIS.
IT is but little known that in the thick of a Ten- nessee wilderness lies buried Meriwether Lewis, the commander of Lewis and Clark's expedition to the Pacific in 1804-06-a man whose name was once on every lip. The reading public of fifty or seventy-five years ago was familiar with his career and his fate. The account of the expedition published by Biddle and Allen in 1814 was then considered fascinating literature. Many an aged man still recalls the ex- citement of pleasure with which in his youth he read the book, remembering that he was held spellbound by the recital of the romantic adventures and hair- breadth escapes of the forty-four men under Captain Lewis, who penetrated to the sources of the Missouri, and thence down to the mouth of the Columbia River, when the Northwest was yet an unknown land.
The leader of that expedition came to his death under peculiar circumstances while journeying through Tennessee in 1809. The Legislature of the State, in recognition of his greatness, caused a suitable monu- ment to be erected in the wilds of Lewis County, where he lies buried. The stately column of lime- stone, looming unexpectedly in the heart of a monoto- nous woodland, produces an impression of awe. The sculptured, broken shaft surmounting a square, pyr-
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amidal base of rough-hewn stone, is in striking con- trast to the absence of man's art elsewhere in the dense forest in which it is hidden. Rising amid pri- meval trees, it is enveloped by a solemn silence which is rarely disturbed by visitors. The old road con- ducting to the place is in many parts so dim as to be almost obliterated.
There was a time though when the Natchez Trace, as the road is called, was a thoroughfare of national importance, it being the United States post road from Nashville to Natchez on the Mississippi. For a num- ber of years it was the western boundary line of civilization. Originally an Indian trail, it was in 1801 improved by the United States troops under Lieutenant (afterwards Major General) George Pen- dleton Gaines, and converted into a public highway. This opened up communication with the southern In- dian tribes as well as with the French and Spanish settlements on the lower Mississippi.
It was on October the eleventh, when the Natchez Trace post road was still new, that Meriwether Lewis, then Governor of Louisiana, took his fatal journey along that part of it which lies in Lewis County, Tenn. It was on or near the spot on which his monu- ment stands that he died. Whether he came to his death by murder or suicide is a question still unan- swered. The cause of the deed has always remained a mystery. For two years previous to his death Lewis had been Governor of Louisiana. He was then on his way from his seat of government in St. Louis to Washington City on business connected with his department as well as to look after the publication of his account of the Western exploration.
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On the Natchez Trace.
His appointment at the early age of thirty-six years to the important position of Governor of Louisiana had been largely due to the warm personal attach- ment of President Jefferson, to whom he had endeared himself while acting as his private secretary. A no- ticeable trait of Lewis's character was his ability to attract and hold sincere friendship. He had early won a powerful friend in the President, and by his energy and thoroughness in the performance of every duty had remained to the last his special favorite and protégé. In a memoir of Lewis after his death, Jef- ferson wrote of his friend: "His courage was un- daunted ; his firmness and perseverance yielded to nothing but impossibilities ; a rigid disciplinarian, yet tender as a father to those committed to his charge ; honest, disinterested, liberal; with a sound under- standing and a scrupulous fidelity to truth."
This superlative praise from the "sage of Monti- cello" was justified by Lewis's courage in facing the dangers of his Western expedition, by his endurance of hardships, by the thorough discipline he exercised over his command, and by the completeness and effi- ciency of his preparations for the journey, though the exploration was made on a very limited appropriation from the government. The service rendered to his country was extraordinary. The expedition resulted in confirming to the United States the title to an area now comprising the States of Idaho, Washington, and Oregon. The information he secured concern- ing the botanical, zoölogical, geographical, and geo- logical resources of the country was of permanent value. His description of the scenery and his ac- count of the peaceable disposition of the Indians he
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met created an enthusiasm for settling up the great Northwest. The expedition was, in fact, accom- plished with success, and to the entire satisfaction of the government.
In 1806, after an absence of two years and five months, the exploring party returned triumphant, to receive unstinted praise for their services. The pub- lished journal of the explorer, which read like a tale of fiction, excited universal interest. Every detail of the narrative was read with avidity in the days when books were fewer than now. Not a scene was skipped, from the hour of departure from St. Charles, near the mouth of the Missouri River, to the moment when Captain Lewis cleared the stream with a bound near its source. The interest of readers still followed him when, at the instance of a friendly savage, and guided by the faithful squaw Sacajawea (the Bird Woman), he crossed the dividing range, there to find the source of another mighty stream-the Columbia- whose winding course he traced westward to the big water of the Pacific Ocean. The interest then awakened was revived in a slight measure a few years ago by the publication of a new edition of the once popular work .*
Aside from the qualities that gained renown for Meriwether Lewis, he had traits that made it easy for him to win affection. His dignity and courtesy, his courage and manly firmness were no less attract- ive than his handsome personal appearance which is preserved to us in a miniature taken of him in Paris at the age of thirty-five. He doubtless owed much
*The edition by Dr. Elliott Coues.
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On the Natchez Trace.
of his personal attractiveness to his mother, who, we are told, was "perfect in form and feature, and pos- sessed of a quick intelligence and a benevolent heart." She long survived her renowned son, and we read of her later as a very old lady, though still active enough to "come pacing home on her pony from a visit to a sick neighbor." Early widowed, she sustained alone the responsibility of forming her son's princi- ples and molding his character.
Viewing Lewis as an interesting composite of hu- man weakness and heroism, it is not hard to under- stand the epithet of "Sublime Dandy" which has linked itself with his name. Of his heroism he gave early proof at the age of nineteen years by saving the lives of the pioneers among whom his mother lived in Georgia. Mrs. Lewis had moved to that State from Virginia at a time when the country was great- ly plagued by bands of marauding Indians. On one occasion the new settlers had fled to the woods for refuge. Tents were struck for the night, and fires were brightly blazing for the evening meal when a party of savages descended upon the travelers. Con- fusion seized the camp. No one knew what to do until young Lewis, taking in the situation at a glance, put out the fires and helped the men to repel the at- tack.
As a social figure he was conspicuously elegant. Attired in blue coat, red velvet waistcoat, buff knee breeches, and brilliant shoe buckles (a costume he is described as wearing on occasion), Meriwether Lewis, the accomplished private secretary of the Pres- ident, should have been altogether irresistible to the belles of the young republic who adorned Washington
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society in the beginning of the nineteenth century. Yet, in truth, he was never married. An untold ro- mance may have been responsible for this sin of omission. Or a possible explanation may be found in the fact that he inherited from his father a tendency to melancholia, and was subject to moods of deep depression. It was with the hope of diverting him with new scenes and novel experiences that Jefferson had procured for him the command of the Western exploring party, as well as the commission of Gov- ernor of Louisiana. Jefferson's hopes seemed to be fulfilled when, at the end of a few years of exposure and danger in the West, Lewis's mind was apparently restored to healthy action.
This was the traveler who, on the evening of Octo- ber II, 1809, halted his roadster on the Natchez Trace, in front of Grinder's stand; this was the man of affairs hastening to give an account of his steward- ship; this the explorer on his way to superintend the publication of his valuable journal. But we lose sight of the august dignity of his excellency, the Governor, we forget the author and discoverer, and have thought only for the handsome young soldier, but thirty-eight years old, as we see him riding to his death.
All day his spirits have been weighed down by gloom. So intense was his melancholy that his fel- low-traveler, Mr. Neely (United States Indian Agent), was uneasy about Lewis's condition. According to the statement made by Mr. Neely afterwards to Pres- ident Jefferson, he had himself been obliged to tarry at a point ten miles back of Grinder's to recover stray- ing horses, and had seriously opposed Lewis's deter- mination to go on without him. But though Neely
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argued of the unsettled state of the country, with the highway infested as it was with robbers and cut- throats, and reminded him of the personal responsi- bility he felt for his safety, he could not turn the Governor from his purpose of pursuing his journey alone. Insisting that it was important for him to proceed, Lewis hurried ahead, accompanied only by his Spanish body servant and an Indian guide, with the intention of going as far as possible that day. He reached Grinder's stand at dark, and resolved to stop there for the night, as the next place of entertain- ment was many miles distant. Like most of the back- woods hostelries of those rude times, Grinder's house was only a log cabin. The remains of a stick-and- stone chimney still mark the spot it occupied, with a sad little mound near the monument. On that partic- ular evening Grinder was not at home. In his stead, his wife appeared in answer to Lewis's lusty halloo. She looked searchingly at the three men. Turning from the foreign face of the servant to that of the bronze savage, she took alarm, and was not reassured by a glance at the gloomy features of the white stranger. Her conclusion was that she could not give them entertainment in the absence of her hus- band. But after long parleying Lewis persuaded her to admit them on condition that the travelers should confine themselves to one of the two detached cabins in the yard, and leave her and her small children un- disturbed in the family room.
Not offering to give the men supper, the woman shut herself in her cabin and retired for the night. About three o'clock in the morning she heard firing. Other noises followed, to which she listened attentive-
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ly. Some one was groaning outside, and she thought she heard the words, "It is hard to die," but she was afraid to unlatch the door and go to the sufferer's aid. Presently she could distinguish the sound of the gourd scraping against the almost empty water bucket which was on the shelf outside. Evidently the wounded man was thirsty, and there was little, if any, water in the pail. It was pitiful, yet the woman dared not go out until broad daylight, by which time the noises had all ceased. Everything was quiet when she opened the door to find that the strangers had all vanished. Their horses were also gone from the stable, and there was no trace of them to be found anywhere. It was not until nearly noon that a clue of any sort was dis- covered. In the meantime Grinder had returned and the mail rider, Robert Smith, had stopped at the stand on his regular journey from Natchez to Nash- ville. Together the two men made a search which ended in their finding the dead body of Meriwether Lewis lying under a tree near the house. His fatal wound had come from a bullet which struck him under the chin and passed out through the top of the skull. No one knew then nor has ever learned cer- tainly since how the great man came to his death. The matter was discussed throughout the United States, and there were many differing opinions ex- pressed on the subject. Mr. Jefferson, after taking pains to collect all the evidence he could gather at such great distance from the scene as to the cause of his friend's tragic fate, concluded that it was an act of suicide, committed in a fit of mental depression. But the family of Governor Lewis thought differently. They argued that if he had destroyed himself his
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money and the many valuables he was known to have had upon his person would have been found, whereas neither the one nor the other was ever brought to light. "And where," they asked, "were his followers and the three horses?" All the circumstances led them to believe that the Spanish servant (with the Indian probably as an accomplice) had murdered and then robbed their master.
Another theory adopted by many was that Grinder had killed him. But though the keeper of the stand was afterwards arrested and tried, he was acquitted of the crime. Singular to relate, the evidence in the trial was torn from the record by some unknown hand in later years. It has been claimed by others that an investigation of the facts indicates that Grinder's son- in-law committed the murder, and that though he was strongly suspected at the time, he was not arrested because he was a half-breed Indian, and it was feared that his trial and punishment might involve the bor- der settlements in a disastrous war with the savages.
Whoever did the deed, the country people believed that the murderer or murderers, becoming alarmed by the groans which had disturbed Mrs. Grinder, had hastily hidden the stolen pouch of gold coins in the earth and then had fled, intending to come back later and get the booty. But as hue and cry was raised throughout the land, it was thought that the thieves did not dare to return. Quite naturally, superstition has added liberally to the story. Simple folk there are who believe that the gold lies hidden to this day in the ground on the very spot where Meriwether Lewis was buried, not far from the remains of Grind- er's cabin, on the old Natchez Trace.
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Recalling other historic associations connected with the old road, it seems invested with an air of wild romance. Along this route traveled Aaron Burr when on his way to interview General Jackson before visiting the island home of Blennerhasset in the Ohio. We can see, in imagination, the gifted man, who has been called the "Benedict Arnold of politics," riding along the lonely way, weaving schemes to tempt, if possible, Andrew Jackson, the very bulwark of free government, to join in his treasonable plot to form a great western empire of which Burr was to be the ruler. Happily, as we know, his artful sophistries failed to draw Old Hickory into his plans.
Jackson himself traveled the Natchez Trace at an early date. Another famous name associated with the road was that of Thomas Benton. Long before he was a Senator of the United States he lived as a rustic youth on the Natchez Trace at a point called Gordon's Ferry, where he acted as clerk and book- keeper for the pioneer, Capt. John Gordon, who had established a commissary where the road crosses Duck River. Along this road, when it was but an In- dian trail, Captain Gordon had chased many a party of hostile Creeks or Choctaws southward. Along its northward course he annually sent pack horses to Philadelphia with instructions to his men to pur- chase from Mr. Meeker or from Evans & Jackson (noted merchants in those days) such merchandise as was suited to his trading post on the frontier.
At a later date travel on the old highway was made hazardous by the robber band of Murrell, who was the Jesse James of his generation, and whose exploits furnished numerous themes for border stories.
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To a mind sensitive to impressions it would not seem incredible that savages might still be seen lurk- ing in the woods through which the ancient warpath leads. Remembering Tecumseh's frequent presence on the Natchez Trace, the withered leaves of some gnarled stump would not be unlike the tawny-red figure of the Indian statesman on his way from tribe to tribe. It was here he passed along when inaugu- rating his well-devised scheme for uniting all the southern and northwestern tribes in the general uprising against the whites which resulted in the massacre at Fort Mimms and led to the Creek war. Over this course, too, galloped Red Eagle (William Weatherford) when sent on missions to the "war party" by Tecumseh. Certain parts of the road were also frequented by the astute half-breed chief McGil- livray when engaged in his machinations with the Spaniards at Natchez to destroy the American settle- ments.
The scenes on the frontier highway have changed and passed like the slow shifting of a panorama. But a fixed memorial of the times stands, in the monument of Meriwether Lewis, apart from the hum of modern human interests, in the wilds of the county which bears his honored name.
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XVIII.
THE FIBER OF "OLD HICKORY."
A DREADFUL thing had happened in the Southern Alabama country. Six hundred Creek warriors had unexpectedly rushed through the gates into Fort Mimms and put to death every white human being in the fort. Scarce was the massacre over before a secret messenger spurred his horse northward to carry the news to far-away Tennessee. For where should men be found quick to spring to arms if not in the "Volunteer State?" And who would be able to stop the ravages of the Creeks, what white leader was there in all the border land wise enough and bold enough to conquer their great half-breed chief, Wil- liam Weatherford, unless it was the gifted soldier, Andrew Jackson, the Tennesseean whose heart and life were pledged to the needs of all Americans alike?
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