VIII John Charles Frémont
The Pathfinder.
The discovery and exploration of the trans-Mississippi region had many phases, the outcome of different conditions and varying individual efforts to determine the extent, possibilities, and resources of the undeveloped half of the American continent. The seamanship of Gray, the enthusiasm of Lewis, the courage of Clarke, the assiduity of Pike, the enterprise of Ashley, Wyeth, Sublette, Bonneville, and other trappers and traders, had done much to make known to the pioneer and settler the advantages and promise of the great West, and had roughly delineated the routes of travel best suited for the emigrant in his westward march.
In time many urged that the government of the United States, so long shamefully negligent of its magnificent acquisitions by purchase, discovery, and settlement, should enter in and possess its own. This, however, necessitated, first, a systematic examination of the physical features of the West to such an extent as to render possible its general and authoritative description; second, the granting of lands or homesteads to such of its daring citizens as might be willing to venture their lives as settlers in these remote regions.
Among public men who urged most strongly such action was one of the most distinguished of our Western statesmen, Thomas H. Benton, first Senator from the new and growing State of Missouri. He persistently advocated the settlement of the lower Columbia by Americans, the enforcement of the title of the United States to the Pacific Coast region from California northward to the forty-ninth parallel, and in 1825 he presented in the Senate a bill authorizing the use of the army and navy to protect American interests in Oregon.
In season and out of season Benton opposed the joint occupation of Oregon by England and America, unfailingly supporting every measure which promised to fill its fertile valleys with American settlers. So dominant was this idea in Benton’s career that artistic skill has fittingly shaped his statue in St. Louis with its bronze hand pointing west, with his prophetic words carved on the pedestal, “There is the east. There is India.”
In his efforts to put his ideas into practical shape, Benton threw the great weight of his influence as a Senator toward the employment in such explorations of a member of his family by marriage, John Charles Frémont, whose ability and inclinations specially suited him for the scientific examination and exploration of the trans-Mississippi region.
John Charles Frémont.
Born January 21, 1813, at Savannah, Ga., Frémont entered Charleston College, where his disregard of discipline prevented his graduating, although the faculty later honored him with the degrees of Bachelor and Master of Arts. Well grounded in the classics and familiar with the ordinary astronomical methods of determining latitude and longitude, Frémont visited South America on the United States ship Natchez, as a teacher. Later, appointed a professor of mathematics in the navy, he declined the position to accept more congenial service as assistant engineer of the United States Topographic Corps, where he had experience in preliminary surveys of railroads and also in a military reconnoissance among the Cherokees in Georgia. Commissioned in the United States Army, in 1838, as second lieutenant in the Topographic Corps, his initial service was fortunately as principal assistant to I. N. Nicolet, in the survey of the country between the Mississippi and the Missouri. Nicolet, an able and distinguished engineer, was the first explorer in America who made general use of the barometer for determining elevations of the great interior country, and his map of this region was one of the greatest contributions ever made to American geography.
Jessie Benton Frémont.
In 1841 Frémont married Jessie Benton, a daughter of Senator Benton, through whose influence Frémont was assigned to the command of the expedition ordered to explore the country between the Missouri River and the Rocky Mountains on the line of the Kansas and Platte Rivers.
In May, 1842, while Frémont was on the frontier making preparations for the journey, there came, as Mrs. Frémont relates, an order recalling him to Washington. Mrs. Frémont sent a special messenger to her husband, advising him to move immediately for good and sufficient reasons, to be given later. Meanwhile, holding the letter, she wrote the colonel who had given the order for the recall that she had neither forwarded the order nor informed Frémont of it, as she knew that obedience thereto would ruin the expedition. On such a small thread of circumstances hung the fate of his first separate command, which brought Frémont into such great prominence in connection with the exploration and development of the Pacific Coast region.
The journey of Frémont lay up the North Fork of the Platte, through South Pass, into Wind River Valley, his march being marked by the usual experiences of hardship and suffering inseparable from the time and region. The most notable event of the journey was the ascent of the main and highest peak of the Wind River range, now known as Frémont’s Peak. Their first attempts were unsuccessful, the party suffering from great cold, excessive fatigue, and mountain fever resulting from the rarity of the air. Frémont, however, persevered and succeeded. He describes the final ascent as follows:
“We reached a point where the buttress was overhanging, and there was no other way of surmounting the difficulty than by passing around one side of it, which was the face of a vertical precipice of several hundred feet. Putting hands and feet in the crevices between the blocks I succeeded in getting over it, and when I reached the top found my companions in a small valley below. Descending to them, we continued climbing and in a short time reached the crest. I sprang upon the summit and another step would have precipitated me into an immense snow-field five hundred feet below. At the edge of this field was a sheer icy precipice, and then, with a gradual fall, the field sloped off for about a mile until it struck the foot of another lower ridge. I stood on a narrow crest about three feet in width. As soon as I had gratified the first feelings of curiosity I descended, and each man ascended in turn, for I would only allow one at a time to mount the unstable and precarious slab, which it seemed a breath would hurl into the abyss below. We mounted the barometer in the snow at the summit, and fixing a ramrod in the crevice, unfurled the national flag to wave in the breeze where never flag waved before.” The elevation of this summit, as determined by Frémont, was 13,570 feet.
His success on this expedition caused his most favorable reception by the War Department on his return to the States.
Ascending Frémont’s Peak.
Frémont’s second expedition contemplated the connection of his first explorations with those made by Captain Wilkes on the Pacific Coast, so as to give a connected survey across the interior of North America. The party, which left Kansas City May 29, 1843, consisted of forty men, equipped with twelve carts for transportation and a light wagon for scientific instruments. The route followed was up the valley of the Kansas River, thence by the South Fork of the Platte to the vicinity of the present city of Denver. After considerable hesitation a northerly route was taken, skirting the westerly limits of the great Laramie plain, which brought Frémont to the emigrant trail in the vicinity of the South Pass. The volume of travel toward the Pacific Coast even at that early date may be estimated from his description of the Oregon trail as “a broad smooth highway where the numerous heavy wagons of the emigrants have entirely beaten and crushed the mountain sage.”
Crossing Green River and following up Ham’s Fork, Frémont reached the valley of Bear River, the principal tributary of Great Salt Lake, which was filled with emigrants travelling to the lower Columbia River. Frémont expressed his surprise at the confidence and daring of the emigrants as he met in one place “a family of two men and women and several children travelling alone through such a country so remote from civilization.” Turning south from this point and quitting the travelled road Frémont visited the Great Salt Lake, of which he says: “Hitherto this lake had been seen only by trappers, who were wandering through the country in search of new beaver streams, caring very little for geography; its lands had never been visited, and none were to be found who had entirely made the circuit of its shores, and no instrumental observations or geographical survey of any description had ever been made anywhere in the neighboring region. It was generally supposed that the lake had no visible outlet, but among the trappers, including those in my own camp, were many who believed that somewhere on its surface was a terrible whirlpool, through which its waters found their way to the ocean by some subterranean communication.”
The lake was eventually reached from the lower part of Bear River in an india-rubber canoe, by means of which Frémont also landed on a mountainous island near the centre of the lake, where from an elevation of eight hundred feet he was able to determine with considerable accuracy the contours and extent of this remarkable body of water. Instead of a tangled wilderness of shrubbery teeming with an abundance of game, as the party expected, the island proved to be broken, rocky land, some twelve miles in circumference, on which there was neither water nor trees; a few saline shrubs and other hardy plants formed the only vegetation. The lake is described as being enclosed in a basin of rocky mountains, which sometimes leave grassy fields and extensive bottoms between them and the shore, while in other places they come directly down to the water in bold and precipitous bluffs. He speaks of the water of the lake being at a low stage and the probabilities that the marshes and low ground are overflowed in the season of high water. Frémont says that “we felt pleasure in knowing that we were the first who in the traditional annals of the country had visited the island and broke with joyful sounds the long solitude.” But in view of the dissipation of his dream of fertility he named it Disappointment Island.
Turning northward Frémont reached, on September 18, 1843, Fort Hall, Idaho, then a post under British control, whose original importance as an Indian trading-post had been greatly enhanced by its location on the emigrant route to Oregon, at a distance of over one thousand three hundred miles from the then frontier settlement of Westport, Mo. Following closely the emigrant trail Frémont, on October 8th, passed Fort Boisé, then occupied by the Hudson Bay Company, and on the 25th of the month arrived at another trading establishment of this company, at the junction of the Walla Walla and Columbia Rivers. This was considered by emigrants as the practical termination of their overland journey since navigation down the river was rapid and convenient.
Frémont found many American emigrants at Fort Vancouver on his visit to that post and also learned that others already occupied the adjacent lowlands of the Willamette Valley. Moreover, these pioneers were not confining their efforts to Oregon, for while small parties were pushing southward through that valley to settlements in Northern California, still others, making detours near Fort Hall, reached, by a more direct route through passes in the Sierra Nevada, the banks of the Sacramento.
On November 10, 1843, Frémont left Vancouver to return to the United States, having in view an entirely new route whereby he might be able to complete the exploration of the great interior basin between the Rocky Mountains and the Sierra Nevada. His party then consisted of twenty-five. Leaving the Columbia at a point above The Dalles, Frémont followed Des Chutes River to its source, and passing over to Lake Klamath, contemplated a journey to and a winter camp on either Mary’s Lake or the mythical Buenaventura River. His trail brought him to Lake Klamath, and later to Goose Lake, the source of the Sacramento. Winter had now commenced; the weather in the mountains proved to be extremely cold, snow-storms became frequent, and his search for Mary’s Lake and Buenaventura River proved fruitless and dangerous.
These mythical water-courses, which had been eliminated from the domain of geography by Bonneville’s map of 1837, proved indeed to be veritable waters of the desert, mere mirages that nearly led Frémont to an untimely fate. Frémont’s frequent allusions in his field journal to these imaginary streams show his then belief in their existence, which appears extraordinary in view of existing publications. In Bonneville’s maps are charted with general accuracy the great interior basins of the Great Salt, Mud, and Sevier Lakes, the Humboldt and Sevier Rivers. The general extent and direction of the Willamette, Sacramento, and San Joaquin Rivers are indicated, and the non-existence of the Buenaventura and other hypothetical streams was conclusively determined. The existence of these maps was generally known, and their absence from Frémont’s topographic outfit is remarkable; a most unfortunate omission, as Benton in his “Thirty Years’ View” describes Frémont’s charts and geographic information as “disastrously erroneous.”
Struggling along in the snow through a forest of unknown extent, Frémont halted, on December 16th, on the verge of a rocky precipice, from which the party looked down more than one thousand feet upon a broad lake, the most westerly waters of the great interior basin, which, from its pleasing contrast to the wintry weather of the Sierra Nevada, they called Summer Lake. Attempting to travel in an easterly direction Frémont found himself beaten back by an impassable country, there being rocky, sterile mountains on either side which obliged him to keep to the south through a wild, barren, and uninhabited region. Frémont, describing the country, says: “On both sides the mountains showed often stupendous and curious-looking rocks, which at several places so narrowed the valley that scarcely a pass was left for the camp. It was a singular place to travel through—shut up in the earth, a sort of chasm, the little strip of grass under our feet, the rough walls of bare rock on either hand, and the narrow strip of sky above.”
The year 1844 opened with the party in a forlorn and dispirited condition, as they were practically lost in the tangle of the valleys and mountains. The grass had become so scanty and unwholesome that the overtaxed animals fell ill; some died and others were stolen by Indians, so that the party lost fifteen head of stock by the time they reached Pyramid Lake, where they camped from the 10th to the 16th of January. Here they found grass abundant, fire-wood plentiful, and from an Indian village they obtained salmon trout, a feast to the famished men. The Indians indicated the general direction of the route out of the desolate country, but no one would consent to accompany the party as guide. The region traversed continued so rough and lamed the animals so badly that on the 18th Frémont determined to abandon the easterly course, thinking it advisable to cross the Sierra Nevada to the valley of the Sacramento by the first practicable pass. Now and then a few Indians were met, and finally a guide was obtained, who led them to the southward, over a low range of mountains through a snow-covered pass into what proved to be Carson Valley. The snow deepened and the country became so broken as to make progress difficult, long, tedious detours necessary, and soon travel was only possible along high and exposed ridges, which were comparatively snow free. Finally it became necessary to abandon their mountain howitzer at an impracticable cañon that led into a valley which Frémont at first erroneously supposed to be to the westward of the Sierra Nevada. Continuing on without a guide they met other Indians, who stated it was impossible to cross the mountains on account of the deep snow, but after much persuasion, and by means of large presents, an Indian guide was finally induced to undertake the journey. Frémont, fully conscious of the desperate conditions, which entailed the possible death of all, endeavored to encourage his men by reminding them of the contrast between the fast falling snow of the surrounding Sierra Nevada and the flower-clad meadows in the adjacent valley of the Sacramento, and informed them that his astronomical observations showed that they were only sixty miles distant from Sutter’s great establishment.
Their provisions were now practically exhausted; neither tallow, grease, nor salt remained, and even their hunting dogs were killed for food. Making the best of the situation their clothing and outfit were put in the best of order, and on February 2d, crossing the frozen river on the ice, the party commenced the ascent of the mountain, the men, Frémont relates, being unusually silent over the hazardous and doubtful enterprise. Ten men, mounted on the strongest horses, broke the road, each man in succession opening the path, either on foot or on horseback, until he and his horse became exhausted, when he dropped to the rear. The very deep snow made it impossible to follow the main valley, and they necessarily worked along steep and difficult mountain-sides. On the third day the snow had become so deep that their best horses gave out entirely, refusing to make further effort; the day ended with the party at a stand-still and the camp equipage strewed along the route. Too exhausted to make huts, they camped that night without shelter and suffered bitterly from the unusual cold, as the temperature fell to twenty-two degrees below freezing. Two Indians who had joined the party expatiated on the impossibility of crossing at this point, and the guide, influenced by them, deserted the party the next morning.
Kit Carson.
Having obtained snow-shoes from the Indians, on February 6th, Frémont, accompanied by Carson and Fitzpatrick, made a reconnoissance and reached a high peak, from which Carson saw a little mountain to the westward which he recognized as one seen by him fifteen years before, so that confidence was somewhat restored. On examining the general depth of the snow it was found to be five feet, but in places it proved to be twenty. As this snow was plainly impracticable for the pack-train, sledges were made for transporting the baggage, which was dragged forward by the men with the expectation that the horses without load could break a path for themselves. Unfortunately the weather turned bitterly cold, and the temperature falling thirty-five degrees below the freezing-point, a number of the men were frost-bitten.
Frémont, and indeed the whole party, now realized that the crossing of the mountains into the valley of the Sacramento was a struggle for life, but this in no wise disorganized the party. This desperate march lasted during the whole of February. Finally Frémont with the advance party reached Sutter’s ranch on March 6th in a state of complete exhaustion; help was immediately sent to the main party, which arrived a few days later. Frémont’s route across the mountains was practically through the pass now crossed by the Central Pacific Railway, the descent into the Sacramento being through the valley of the American River. In crossing the Sierras not less than thirty-four out of the sixty-seven horses died of exhaustion or were killed for food, the meat of these animals being the only resource against starvation.
One of the party, De Rossier, became insane on March 1st, and Frémont says: “Hunger and fatigue joined to weakness of body and fear of perishing in the mountains had crazed him. The times were severe when stout men lost their minds from extremity of suffering, when horses died, when mules and horses ready to die of starvation were killed for food, yet there was no murmuring or hesitation.”
Sutter’s Fort, on the Sacramento, was then the most important American establishment in California; the fort itself was an adobe structure defended by twelve pieces of artillery. Sutter had a large force in his employ engaged in farming his extensive wheat-fields, in milling operations, in blacksmith- and other work-shops.
One might have thought that Frémont would have delayed long in the delightful climate and conditions that obtained at Sutter’s, but such was not the nature of the man. The entire party were reunited at Sutter’s Fort on March 8th, and under Frémont’s well-directed efforts, in the short space of fourteen days the starving band was reorganized, remounted, and equipped fully for instant march. The return journey was to be through the pass at the head of the San Joaquin River, discovered by Walker, whose name was affixed to it by Frémont. Crossing the Sierra Nevada the party struck the Spanish trail, which was then followed by all wagon-trains or mounted parties travelling to and fro between Los Angeles and Santa Fé. The region over which they passed was desolate in the extreme, the road rough and rocky, grass scanty and poor, while water was found only in holes and at long distances, In pointing to it, Frémont’s Spanish guide well states: “There are the great plains; there is found neither water nor grass—nothing; every animal which goes upon them dies.”
The party had to undergo not only terrible discomforts arising from the physical conditions of the country, but was also harassed by hostile Indians, who stole some of their stock. The expedition fortunately escaped with the loss of only one man, although parties in advance and in their rear were plundered and slaughtered. Speaking of their travelling alone in twenty-seven days a distance of five hundred and fifty miles through this inhospitable region, Frémont comments, that although their lonely journey gave them the advantage of more grass, yet they “had the disadvantage of finding also the marauding savages who had gathered down upon the trail, waiting the approach of their prey. This greatly increased our labors, besides costing us the life of an excellent man. We had to move all day in a state of watch and prepare for combat, scouts and flankers out, a front and rear division of our men, and baggage animals in the centre. At night camp duty was severe; those who had toiled all day had to guard by turns the camp and horses all night. Frequently one-third of the whole party were on guard at once, and nothing but this vigilance saved us from attack. We were constantly dogged by bands and even whole tribes of the marauders.”
Reaching, in Southern Utah, the head-waters of the Virgin River, where Santa Fé trains usually halt to recruit the strength of their animals in its grassy meadows, Frémont was joined by the famous trapper, Joseph Walker, who consented to serve as guide in the departure to the northeastward, as they now quitted the Spanish trail. Frémont then skirted the eastern edge of the great interior basin and visiting Sevier and Utah Lakes, thus completed practically the circuit of the basin. He then turned eastward through the valleys of the Du Chesne and Green Rivers, tributaries to the Colorado, and pushing through the very heart of the Rocky Mountains, by the way of the pass near Leadville, at an elevation of eleven thousand two hundred feet, he reached the Arkansas Valley June 29, 1844.
His journey eastward across the great Kansas plains was of an easy character, and the 31st of July, 1844, saw his expedition safe at Independence, Mo. He had been absent fourteen months, during which time he had travelled some six thousand five hundred miles, the greater part of his journey being through the most barren and inhospitable regions of North America.
Lake Klamath.
The character and extent of Frémont’s astronomical and other physical observations on this long, arduous, and dangerous journey constituted the great value of his exploring work. In few instances did it fall to Frémont’s lot to first explore any section of the country, but it was his good fortune, as it was his intent, to first contribute systematic, extended, and reliable data as to climate, elevation, physical conditions, and geographical positions. The hypsometrical work begun by Frémont culminated, indeed, in the unparalleled collation of elevations by Gannett; his climatic observations have been perfected by the Signal Corps; his astronomical and geological data have been overwhelmed by the magnificent collections and field work of the United States Coast and Geodetic and Geological Surveys; but it is to be noted that Frémont’s observations, which he gave in detail, were so honest and good that they have withstood successfully the test of hostile examination. Frémont’s scientific spirit was strikingly exemplified in this terrible mid-winter journey through the mountains of Nevada, when observations for time, latitude, elevation, or temperature were daily and regularly made despite snow, extreme cold, and physical weakness from semi-starvation.
On the recommendation of General Winfield Scott, in a special report, the unprecedented honor of double brevets—of first lieutenant and captain—was conferred on Frémont for gallant and highly meritorious services in connection with these two expeditions.
Frémont’s third expedition consisted of sixty men. They left Bent’s Fort, on the Arkansas, August 16, 1845. Its object, as far as exploration was concerned, included a survey of the head-waters of the Arkansas, Rio Grande, and Rio Colorado, the basin of the Great Salt Lake and the practicable passes of the Cascade and southern Sierra Nevada.
It was during this journey that Frémont quite fully surveyed the southern shores of Salt Lake. The water was then at an unusually low—possibly at its lowest known—level, and having been informed by the Indians that it was fordable to Antelope Island, Frémont with Kit Carson rode to the island, the water nowhere reaching above the saddle-girths of their horses.
Dividing his party Frémont crossed the Utah desert between the thirty-eighth and thirty-ninth parallels, while his subordinate, Walker, explored the valley and sink of the Humboldt. Rendezvousing at Lake Walker and again separating, Frémont reached Sutter’s Fort through the American River route, while Walker and the main party crossed the Sierras into the extreme southern part of the San Joaquin Valley, opposite Tulare Lake. Of the survey and explorations made by the expedition it may be briefly said that they added very greatly to a knowledge of Upper California, and resulted in the publication in 1848 of the most accurate map of that region extant.
There was, however, another and more important phase to the third expedition than that of mere exploration. Frémont before leaving Washington was informed that war with Mexico was possible, and received general unwritten instructions looking to such a contingency. The forecast of trouble proved correct, and the preliminary and extensive disturbances in California interfered most materially with the progress of his surveys. Frémont’s explorations westward of the Arkansas River had been through and over Mexican territory. In order to place himself in proper position as a non-invader he proceeded to Monterey, Cal., at the earliest practicable moment and applied to the commanding general, Don José Castro, for permission to extend, in the interests of science and commerce, the geographical survey of the nearest route between the United States and the Pacific Ocean. The request was granted promptly and courteously. Scarcely had Frémont commenced his survey in Northern California than he was peremptorily ordered by General Castro, who later appears to have been acting under orders from the Mexican Government, to quit the department; the message being coupled with an intimation that non-compliance would result in expulsion by an armed force. The message was delivered in such manner and language as incensed Frémont and caused him to peremptorily refuse. Withdrawing a short distance he erected a stockade and awaited expulsion by arms. The Mexican force made several forward movements, but carefully avoided an attack. Frémont finally judged it advisable to quit Mexican territory, as his remaining might be detrimental to the United States. He consequently withdrew slowly toward Oregon, surveying and exploring as he moved northward.
On May 7, 1845, Frémont was overtaken in the valley of the upper Sacramento by Lieutenant Archibald H. Gillespie, of the marine corps, who brought from Washington important despatches which were destined to settle the fate of California as a Mexican state. Frémont was informed through Gillespie that war with Mexico had been declared, that the government counted upon him to ascertain and conciliate the disposition of the people of California toward the United States, and especially to conserve American interests by ascertaining and counteracting any scheme looking to the cession of California to Great Britain. Frémont was then surrounded by hostile Klamaths, who killed several of his party and with whom he had several engagements, which resulted in the destruction of the principal village, fishing appliances, etc., of the offending tribe.
Frémont, turning promptly southward, his heart set on the important mission intrusted to him, saved from ravage the American settlements in the valley of the Sacramento, which were in imminent danger of destruction between the proclamation of the Mexican authorities ordering confiscation and expulsion and the threatening attitude of the Indian allies, incited by unscrupulous officials to activity. Aided by volunteers from the American settlers Frémont freed California permanently from Mexican domination, his actions receiving mention and approval from the President in his Annual Message to Congress, in December, 1846.
Commodore Stockton, United States Navy, charged with the control of affairs on the Pacific Coast, appointed Frémont Governor and military commander of California. When controversies arose between Commodore Stockton, of the navy, and General Kearney, of the army, each having authority from Washington to conquer California and organize its government, Frémont adhered to Stockton, his first commander. In consequence serious complications arose, which finally resulted in the trial of Frémont, and, although the findings of the court were partly disapproved and the sentence remitted, he resigned from the army.
His courage, persistency, and success in these expeditions gained for Frémont world-wide reputation. At home he was named The Pathfinder; abroad he received the Founders’ Medal from the Royal Geographical Society of England and many other well-deserved marks of appreciation from geographers.
Devoted to California and to its exploration Frémont immediately fitted out, at his own expense, another expedition, the fourth. In October, 1848, with thirty-three men and a large train he crossed the Rocky Mountains, undeterred by his fearful experiences in 1844, and again attempted the passage of the snow-covered Sierras in mid-winter. The snow was deep, the guide inefficient, and the winter unusually cold. One-third of his men and all his animals perished after suffering cold, hunger, and fatigue of the most appalling character, and the remnant of the expedition returned to Santa Fé. Unappalled by this overwhelming disaster Frémont reorganized at Santa Fé a new party, and after a long, perilous journey reached Sacramento in the spring of 1849.
Frémont’s experiences during his surveys of the great valleys of the San Joaquin and Sacramento caused him to fall under the fascinating spell which California exercises over the greater number of its Eastern settlers. The vast domain of its virgin forests, the luxuriance of its vegetation, the extent and fertility of its valley lands, and its incomparable climate were speedily recognized by Frémont as so many physical conditions calculated to insure unparalleled prosperity when once it should be occupied by Americans. He saw this vast region practically a waste; its magnificent harbors unvexed, unbroken by the keels of commerce; its unrivalled valleys awaiting the hand of intelligent labor to transform them from mere pastures for scattered herds of cattle into fruitful granaries, orchards, and vineyards capable of feeding a continent. Imbued with these ideas he cast in his lot with California, and was a potent power in making it a free State, and was honored by election as its first Senator, unfortunately, however, drawing the short term in the United States Senate.
Failing, through the defeat of his party, of re-election, Frémont visited Europe for a brief and well-earned rest, which was broken by the authorization of Congress for a survey of a trans-continental railway, which awoke his dormant exploring spirit. Returning promptly to the United States he organized an expedition under private auspices, which started westward in September, 1853. He travelled by the central route through the mountains of Colorado, passing over the Sierra Blanca, through the Sandy Hill Pass and the valley of the Grand River. Turning southward into Utah and crossing the Sawatch Mountains, Frémont’s march brought him to the Sierra Nevada near the end of winter, and their passage was attempted near the thirty-seventh parallel. Thereof he writes: “I was prepared to find the Sierra here broad, rugged, and blocked with snow, and was not disappointed in my expectations.” The snow being impassable and food failing he made a detour of some seventy miles to the southward and reached the Kern River Valley through Walker Pass. The march entailed endless suffering and extreme privations on the party, which was pushed to the direst extremities to preserve life. They were often without food of any kind for an entire day and for many weeks had only the flesh of their emaciated and exhausted horses. The disastrous outcome of this expedition impaired Frémont’s reputation, it appearing, then as now, surprising that, aware by bitter experience of the impracticability of such a journey, he should have so timed his march as to be again overwhelmed by the dreadful winter snow of the Nevada range.
This sketch has in view the treatment neither of Frémont’s career as a soldier nor as a politician, which phases of his life, viewed by ordinary circumstances, may be considered as unsuccessful. It need not be here dwelt on that his name became a watchword of the ever-growing spirit of human freedom, and that as the standard-bearer of an idea he astonished the country and the world by obtaining the suffrages of nearly one and a half millions of his countrymen for the highest office in the gift of the people. His unwavering, if impractical, devotion to freedom was forcibly illustrated by his emancipation proclamation in Missouri, which he declined to recall, even at the request of the President who revoked it.
It is undoubted that Frémont’s non-success in business and political ventures has tended to diminish his reputation as an explorer, a reputation which, it is safe to say, must continue to grow steadily in the future with the development of the great trans-Rocky Mountain region to which he gave the enthusiasm of his youth, the maturity of his manhood, and for which he sacrificed his profession and his private fortune. While Frémont loved all the great West, it was to California especially that he gave the best he had of mind, heart, and body, never sparing himself in any effort for the upbuilding of her future. So it is that in the scene of his activities on the shores of the golden Pacific, rather than on the coast of the Atlantic, should be more appreciated the labors and ever grow brighter and brighter the name of John C. Frémont, the Pathfinder.