Sketch of the Life of "Chee-Ho-Carte" Or the Five Scalps

By Reuben Holmes

Discover the Remarkable Journey of Edward Rose, the Enigmatic Mountain Man! 

• Language: English
• Publisher: TrueAdventureClassics
• Release date: May 28, 2024
• ISBN: 9798869399823

Book preview

Sketch of the Life of

Chee-Ho-Carte

Or the Five Scalps

by

Captain Reuben Holmes

(1798-Nov. 4, 1833)

This is a republication of

a public domain publication

originally published by

the St. Louis Beacon

in 1829,

in St. Louis Missouri,

United States

Table of Contents

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V.

CHAPTER VI.

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII.

CHAPTER IX.

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER XI—CONCLUSION

CHAPTER I

It once was, and perhaps now is, a question of considerable speculation among dreaming and metaphysical visionists, whether civilization, by increasing and extending the wants and gratifications of nature, has improved the condition and added to the happiness of mankind. In other words, whether nature, in the simplicity and nakedness of primeval beauty, affords more happiness to those who thus enjoy her, than when enjoyed after her change, brought by civilization. It was once a question of so much importance as to excite the particular attention of the Royal Institute of France. The Savans composing that learned society proposed it to the philosophers and metaphysicians of their country, offering, with their usual liberality, a handsome reward for the best essay on both sides of the question. A celebrated writer, and a great admirer of the beau ideal, gained both of the prizes. Such was the subtlety of his reasoning, that he alone could refute his own arguments.

It is true that in a perfect state of nature, the wants of life are much less than in an artificial state of society. We, however, of this country are now unable to judge or determine, as we once were, the truth of the question. The Indians, at the present day, are all more or less acquainted with the whites, and, of course, by this acquaintance, have increased their wants far beyond their original simplicity. They are now, in a greater or less degree, unhappy in their want of means to supply this increase.

Let their exertions in hunting or taking beaver be ever so successful, they will never again, if they once were, be satisfied. I doubt if contentment, that foe to misery an unhappiness, would be in perfection in a state of perfect equality. Cultivated or uncultivated, in all ages, an in all climes, human nature is much the same; and where one man, or set of men, enjoys more benefits than another, there will always be more or less dissatisfaction, discontent and unhappiness. There is, besides, a craving, a longing disposition of the mind, that is never satisfied. Give a savage a knife, and he will ask for a gun; give him a gun, and he will ask for something more. Give a man five hundred thousand dollars, and he will labor to make it a million.

Without entering into the discussion of this question, I shall take it for granted that every man, in choosing his situation in life, seeks that which he thinks will afford him the greatest pleasure and happiness. Few white men become Indians, and fewer Indians become white men; hence I think the conclusion very obvious, that, though they may occasionally envy each other’s pleasures and enjoyments, both are happier as nature has located them, more particularly where education and habit have confirmed their locality.

It is a fact, however, singular as it may appear to the man surrounded by all luxuries of the present age, that men have been known to renounce the comforts of a permanent home, the protections of the laws, the delights of refined society, the benefits of moral and intellectual improvement, and all the tenderest and most delicate ties that ever bound a man to his country, or to the little magic spot of his nativity, to embrace the roaming and brutal life of the savage. I say brutal, for some of their habits, though virtuous among men, are but little, if any, elevated above those of brute creation. I have known, or rather seen, several who have, in feelings and habits, to all appearances, become Indians. There was, not long since, an instance of the kind in the western country.

Edward Rose, the subject of this sketch, and whom I have instanced above, was a Kentuckian by birth. He was born and raised near Louisville. At the age of seventeen or eighteen years, he left Kentucky on a keel boat, and in the capacity of a boatman for New Orleans. After his arrival and during his stay at that place, he became celebrated for the eagerness with which he espoused the quarrels of his comrades, and particularly so as a true supporter of the dignity of Old Kentuck. He could lay claim to a large share of consideration on that subject, for, to the moment of his death, his visage most conspicuously displayed the marks of turmoil and strife. He had a large mark in the middle of his forehead, which some had thought was the effect of a hot iron, bearing the impression of the most unfortunate letter in the alphabet, but which had not done its duty in the application. This, probably, was scandal; for Rose said it was a scar made by the teeth of a Frenchman. The most remarkable, and, of course, the most honorable mark he bore, and the one by which he became subsequently well known to all the Indians between the Missouri and Rocky Mountains, was one made by the meeting of the upper and lower jaws of a big Chillicothean, about two thirds of an inch from the tip of his nose, and resulting in the total loss of the part thus separated.

Without the necessity of displaying his bosom and pointing, like the old would-be consul of Rome, to his wounds, Rose at once convinced those who took the trouble to