To Pike’s Peak and New Mexico, 1858
Julia Anna Archibald (Holmes)
INTRODUCTION
The two letters that follow tell the story of the Pikes Peak gold rush through the eyes of a young woman who participated in it:
The first letter was written by Julia Anna Archibald [Holmes], who took part in the famous Lawrence, Kansas, Company which headed for the Colorado mines in early June 1858. She told her story for the benefit of the readers of The Sibyl, a little paper advocating the women’s movement of the 185os, published in Middleton, New York. A strong emphasis is on the journey as a special part of that movement. Julia does not use her husband’s surname, Holmes, at any time in this letter. She tells of how she wore the “American” or “Reform” dress — i.e. the Bloomer costume,1 which was named for Amelia Bloomer, a women’s rights advocate of that day.
Julia addressed her letter to “Sister Sayer,” the editor and publisher of The Sibyl. It appeared in the editions of March 15 and April I, 1859. “Sister Sayer” was really Lydia Sayer Hasbrouck.2 She, too, chose to use her maiden name and not her husband’s surname.
Julia’s letter is saturated with her feelings about her part in the women’s movement. She wore her bloomers throughout, even to the top of Pikes Peak. She asked to stand watch even as the men were required to do. Her letter/diary is a classic of the American westward movement; it is also a classic feminist statement of the mid-nineteenth century. We have transcribed it directly from The Sibyl.
There is an interesting contrast between Julia’s letter to The Sibyl and the second letter published in the Lawrence, Kansas, Republican on October, 1858. This was addressed to her mother, Jane B. Archibald of Lawrence who sent it to the Republican. In contrast to the first letter this one contains not a word about women’s rights. She says nothing about the clothing she wore on the journey, nor one word about her wanting to share everything with the men, even standing guard. Her married name, Holmes, is the appellation used both by her mother and by the editor of the newspaper.
In a remarkable book entitled A Bloomer Girl on Pike’s Peak the Denver Public Library made Julia Holmes’ story available to a wider public than the original by publishing it as a “Limited Edition” in 1949. The editor, Agnes Wright Spring, made a comprehensive study of the life of the diarist. It is to this detailed study that we turn for information on Julia Holmes’ life. We have chosen to publish the letter once more to make it available to an even greater readership.
Julia Anna Archibald was born in Noel, Nova Scotia, on February 15, 1838, to John Christie and Jane B. Archibald. The family moved to Worcester County, Massachusetts, in 1848. She was second to the oldest in a family of eight children. When the Kansas-Nebraska act was passed in 1854, the family moved to Kansas as members of the free state movement. They were pioneer founders of Lawrence, Kansas. They were also closely associated with John Brown and his anti-slavery movement. Jane Archibald, her mother, was an early advocate of woman suffrage.
James H. Holmes arrived in Kansas in 1857 and settled near newly blossoming Emporia on the Neosho River. He named his farm “Holmes Ford.” On October, 1857, he and Julia Archibald were married near Clinton by a “Reverend Nute.” She and her husband and her brother, Albert W. Archibald, 18 years old, decided to join a party from Lawrence for the purpose of going to the Pikes Peak mines. This was in June 1858. She takes up the story herself from then on.
After their journey, unsuccessful as far as finding gold was concerned, she and her husband traveled part way home and then turned south to New Mexico. Her letter to The Sibyl was sent from Fort Union,3 New Mexico, on March 15, 1859.
Over the following years the family spent much time in New Mexico. For a period James Holmes was Secretary of the Territory, having been appointed to the position by President Abraham Lincoln.
During the late years of the Civil War the family moved to Washington, D.C. where Julia lived out her life. There were four children: Charles and June died in their early years; Ernest Julio Holmes grew up to become a citizen of Trinidad, Colorado, and Phoebe became a teacher in Washington, D.C.
It was not long after they moved to the District of Columbia that Julia and James H. Holmes were divorced. She worked in federal bureaus over the years and continued her activities in women’s organizations. She died on January 19, 1887.
THE LETTER OF JULIA ANN ARCHIBALD [HOLMES]
Fort Union, New Mexico, Jan. 25th, 1859. SISTER SAYER. — I think an account of my recent trip will be received with some interest by my sisters in reform, the readers of The Sibyl — if not by the rest of mankind — since I am, perhaps the first woman who has worn the “American Costume” across the prairie sea which divides the great frontier of the states from the Rocky Mountains. In company with my husband, James H. Holmes, and my brother, I traveled in an ox wagon and on foot upwards of eleven hundred miles during the last three summer months.
We were on our farm on the Neosho River, in Kansas, when news reached us that a company was fitting out in Lawrence for a gold adventure to Pike’s Peak. Animated more by a desire to cross the plains and behold the great mountain chain of North America, than by any expectation of realizing the floating gold stories, we hastily laid a supply of provisions in the covered wagon, and two days thereafter, the 2d of last June, were on the road to join the Lawrence company.1 The next morning we reached the great Santa Fe Road, and passed the last frontier Post Office, Council Grove. Here we mailed our last adieus, and felt somewhat sad that we should hear no more from our friends for so long a time — a period of six months, it afterwards proved, we were to be imprisoned from the world and friends. Here we learned that the train we were to join had passed the day before, and we drove as rapidly as staid cattle could travel for the next fifty miles to overtake it. Several millions of dollars’ worth of merchandize is transported annually over this road from the Missouri River to New Mexico, entirely in wagons, and we now met many trains from that Territory coming to Independence for loads. These teams are composed of from five to seven pairs of cattle, attached to huge wagons, capable of carrying seventy to ninety hundred pounds of freight each. Many Americans follow freighting for a living, and have made large fortunes. The price of freight from Independence to Santa Fe is ten cents per pound, so that a good team will earn $800 a load. One freighter, an American, residing in this Territory, (New Mexico,) realized last year from a single trip with eighteen wagons, from Kansas City, Mo., to Salt Lake, the sum of $12,000.
But I am digressing from the subject of my trip. We reached the Cottonwood Creek, crossing the 5th of June, where we found the train encamped. We were now fairly launched on the waving prairie. A person who has beheld neither the ocean nor the great, silent, uninhabited plains, will find it impossible to form any adequate idea of the grandeur of the scene. With the blue sky overhead, the endless variety of flowers under foot, it seemed that the ocean’s solitude had united with all the landscape beauties. In such a scene there is a peculiar charm for some minds, which it is impossible for me to describe; but it made my heart leap for joy.
Finding that we were to have all day to rest, we took our cooking stove out of the wagon and cooked up provision for two or three days. Nearly all the men were entire strangers to me, and as I was cooking our dinner some of them crowded around our wagon, gazing sometimes at the stove, which, with its smoke pipe, looked quite as much out of place as will perhaps the first engine which travels as far away from civilization; but oftener on my dress, which did not surprise me, for, I presume, some of them had never seen just such a costume before. I wore a calico dress, reaching a little below the knee, pants of the same, Indian moccasins for my feet, and on my head a hat. However much it lacked in taste I found it to be beyond value in comfort and convenience, as it gave me freedom to roam at pleasure in search of flowers and other curiosities, while the cattle continued their slow and measured pace.
I was much pleased to learn, on my arrival, that the company contained a lady, and rejoiced at the prospect of having a female companion on such a long journey.2 But my hopes were disappointed. I soon found that there could be no congeniality between us. She proved to be a woman unable to appreciate freedom or reform, affected that her sphere denied her the liberty to rove at pleasure, and confined herself the long days to feminine impotence in the hot covered wagon. After we had become somewhat acquainted, she in great kindness gave me her advice. “If you have a long dress with you, do put it on for the rest of the trip, the men talk so much about you.” “What do they say?” I inquired. “O nothing, only you look so queer with that dress on.” “I cannot afford to dress to please their taste,” I replied; “I could not positively enjoy a moment’s happiness with a long skirt on to confine me to the wagon.” I then endeavored to explain to her the many advantages which the reform dress possesses over the fashionable one but failed to make her appreciate my views. She had never found her dress to be the least inconvenient, she said; she could walk as much in her dress as she wanted to, or as was proper for a woman among so many men. I rejoiced that I was independent of such little views of propriety, and felt that I possessed an ownership in all that was good or beautiful in nature, and an interest in any curiosities we might find on the journey as much as if I had been one of the favored lords of creation.
Soon after we overtook the company a division occurred on the question of keeping the Sabbath. It was Saturday morning, and was thought necessary for the train to lie over one day and make preparations for traveling. Two days, however were considered too long a delay. Some of the more conscientious christians desired the train to travel that day and rest the next, Sunday. But it was two days’ journey to wood and good water after leaving the present camp. It was, therefore, decided that we could not on this journey rest on the seventh day, but must take some time when we were convenient to wood, good water, and grass for the cattle. The next day we moved on, and every one was looking out for buffalo. Every solitary wolf or mound of earth in the distance, was transformed by some of our most anxious and imaginative hunters into a buffalo. A few short pursuits of these delusive objects served to render our braves more cautious, and towards the close of the day the cry, “a buffalo! a buffalo!” became less frequent.
After the merits of several different camping grounds had been vigorously discussed by our several leading men, one was finally selected; and the corral made by driving the teams so that the wagons formed a circle enclosing a yard large enough to contain the cattle belonging to the train. The cattle were allowed to feed until dark, and then driven into the corral for safe keeping, and guarded until morning. This was the course pursued throughout the journey. The next morning the camp was aroused at daylight by a chorus of mingled yelling and screeching — music wild and thrilling as only a band of prairie wolves can make. Civilized man has his prototype in the noisy Indian, so the canine domestic has his lupine prototype, which can make comparatively savage sounds.
When camped on the Little Arkansas River, as I was searching for different flowers, a few rods from the camp, I cast my eyes across the river, and there within forty yards of me stood a venerable buffalo bull, his eyes in seeming wonder fixed upon me. He had approached me unobserved, behind the trees which lined the bank. His gaze was returned with equal astonishment and earnestness. Much as I had heard and read of the buffalo, I had never formed an adequate idea of their huge appearance. He was larger and heavier than a large oxe; his head and shoulders being so disproportionate, he seemed far larger than he really was. He looked the impersonation of a prairie god — the grand emperor of the plain. His countenance expressed terrible majesty and fierceness, and on his chin he wore hair sufficient for the faces of a dozen French emperors. His presence soon became known in camp, and in a few seconds he was coursing westward with our fleetest horses in pursuit. He was overtaken and shot within three or four miles. Buffalo now began to be a common object.
One evening we neglected the precaution to cross the stream before camping.3 During the night a heavy rain came swelling the creek to a depth of twelve or fifteen feet, and flooding the camp, which was pitched on low ground, with several inches of water. The men were thus driven from the tents to the wagons or a more uncomfortable upright position. In consequence of this neglect, we were detained three days. During this time my husband went out buffalo hunting and returned bringing with him a buffalo calf apparently but a week old. It was a great curiosity to all; and, in the fullness of my compassion for the poor little thing, I mixed up a mess of flour and water, which I hoped to make it drink. I approached it with these charitable intentions, when the savage little animal advanced toward me and gave me such a blow with its head as to destroy the center of gravity. His hair was wooly in texture, and of an iron grey color. Unlike the young of our domestic cows, he seldom cried, and when he did only made a faint noise. The buffalo cow as well as the bull is naturally a very timid animal, save when wounded or driven to bay. I learned that the mother of the captured calf made a heroic stand, and presented a beautiful illustration of the triumph of maternal feeling over fear. She was in a herd of many hundreds of buffaloes, fleeing wildly over the plain before the hunter. After a few miles chase the calf gave signs of fatigue. At its faint cry she would turn and come to the calf, but at sight of the hunter bounded off to the herd. This she did two or three times during a chase of as many miles, the calf falling behind more and more, and his mother wavering between fear for his life and her own, at last her decision was made, and she determined to defend her offspring alone on the prairie. She died in his defence.
While camped here, the company was thrown into great anxiety by a member becoming lost on the prairie.4 Much search was made, and he was given up as dead, when some Cheyenne Indians came into camp bringinga note from him, stating he was at a trading post two days in advance. We feasted the Indians in our gratitude. They were large, finely formed, and noble looking men, and but for one sight with which they regaled our eyes they would not have appeared very disgusting. I refer to a habit with them which seems almost too nauseating to write of — that of picking vermin from each other’s heads, and eating them with seeming eagerness and gusto.
I commenced the journey with a firm determination to learn to walk. At first I could not walk over three or four miles without feeling quite weary, but by perservering and walking as far as I could every day, my capacity increased gradually, and in the course of a few weeks I could walk ten miles in the most sultry weather without being exhausted. Believing, as I do, in the right of woman to equal privileges with man, I think that when it is in our power we should, in order to promote our own independence, at least, be willing to share the hardships which commonly fall to the lot of man. Accordingly, I signified to the Guardmaster that I desired to take my turn with the others in the duty of guarding the camp, and requested to have my watch assigned with my husband. The captain of the guard was a gentleman formerly from Virginia,5 who prided himself much upon his chivalry, (and who, to use his own expression, was “conservative up to the eyes,”) was of the opinion that it would be a disgrace to the gentlemen of the company for them to permit a woman to stand on guard. He would vote against the question of universal franchise, were it to be submitted to the people, although he was a hero in the struggle in Kansas, and must have witnessed the heroic exertions of many of the women of that Territory to secure for their brothers the boon of freedom. He believes that woman is an angel, (without any sense,) needing the legislation of her brothers to keep her in her place; that restraint removed, she would immediately usurp his position, and then not only be no longer an angel but unwomanly.
After reaching the Great Bend of the Arkansas River, we camped on Walnut Creek, where we found many new varieties of flowers, some of them of exceeding beauty. Among others the sensitive rose, a delicate appearing flower, one of the most beautiful I ever saw, having a fine delicious aroma. It grew on a running vine. In an eastern conservatory it would be the fairy queen among the roses — the queen of flowers.
Yours, J. Annie Archibald.
THE LETTER, PART II
We passed, on the 14th of June, a large number of Cheyenne and Arrapahoe Indians. Fifty men armed with Sharp’s rifles and revolvers were afraid to allow the Indians to know that the company contained any women, in consequence of something which the carriers of the Santa Fe mail told them when they passed a few days previous. I was, therefore, confined to the wagon, while we passed many places of interest which I wished much to visit. Notwithstanding this care to be unobserved, my presence became known. At one time, by opening the front of the wagon for ventilation, at another by leaping from it to see something curious which two or three Indians had brought, not knowing, as afterward proved true, that we were very near a village. I soon discovered my mistake, and though I did not myself feel there was any cause for alarm, I was sorry I had been seen on account of the feeling existing in the train. It was of no use to hide now, for every Indian within a mile knew of my whereabouts. Though there was not a shadow of danger in such a company as ours, as many of us well knew at the time and as many experienced men have since informed us, it is very true that the red men have an unaccountable fancy for white women. My husband received several very flattering offers for me. One Indian wanted to trade two squaws for me, who could probably perform four times the physical labor that I could. Others, not quite so timid, approaching the wagon made signs for me to jump up behind them on their ponies, but I declined the honor in the most respectful language I knew of their dialect — a decided shake of the head.
We now had a stretch of land to pass over, of forty or fifty miles, on which there was ordinarily no water, no wood, nor any good grass. We started an hour or so before sundown, and traveled until midnight without resting. Here we halted a half hour, and made some coffee over a fire made of wood we had brought from our camp the day before. Resuming our journey, we continued traveling until after sunrise in the morning, when we arrrived at Coon Creek, which we were glad enough to find was not dry as it generally is. Here we camped, having traveled thirty miles or more.
Touching the Arkansas again, we found many new varieties of flowers, some of them of very delicate tint and odor. While camped here, we received a visit from six Californians who were returning to the states, with pack mules. Some of us who had letters prepared gladly availed ourselves of the opportunity to send word home. These men had started from the southern line of Oregon, and come around by the way of the river Gila and Lenora [Senora] — to avoid the Mormon country — a distance of near two thousand miles, in sixty days. They reported traveling in Sonora over a space of four hundred miles where scarcely a blade of grass or any water was to be found. As the train passed the Arkansas crossing, James and I went to the river to see some Santa Fe wagons cross. The river was here perhaps half a mile wide, and the bottom one broad bed of sand, with here and there a channel nearly as deep as the cattle’s backs. After unloading a part of their freight, and placing perishable articles above where the water would enter the wagons, they attached twelve or more yoke of cattle and entered the swift running river. It was indeed an amusing scene. Twenty Mexicans with sharp sticks punching the cattle, shouting and tumbling in the water, the leading cattle continually endeavoring to turn back, the wagon master on horseback, swearing in Mexican, now at the cattle and then at the men — creating a wonderful confusion. There were in the wagon a number of barrels of whiskey standing on end. When in the middle of the stream, as the wagon ascended out of the channel one of these tipped out, together with some of the Mexicans’ coats. After a deal of excitement to the Mexicans, and diversion to those on the bank, the whiskey and clothing were saved.
The next day, the 20th, being Sunday, we had intended to rest. We had not, however, camped ere a number of Cheyenne Indians came upon us, and we learned there was a large village a few miles above. These Indians are very friendly. They are not the best neighbors to have. Not being at all proud, they accept of anything their white brother chooses to give them, and more too, if they can get it. The next morning we traveled on to pass our troublesome neighbors. Near their village we noticed several hundred ponies. These Indians have the custom of suspending their dead in trees, where the dry air of this elevated plain speedily shrivels them up. While searching for Indians skeletons in trees, one of the men found a pair of young eagles not quite fledged, whose feathers were of a pure beautiful white.
The Arkansas river is very beautiful. Dotted as it is with many little islands, the banks in all cases adorned with flowers, and in many places lined with trees and shrubs. But the current is so swift that it is very unpleasant bathing — that delightful and grateful recreation to the dusty traveler. A number of large rattlesnakes were killed along this river. They were formerly very numerous, but have been killed off to a great extent by California emigrants and others.
On the 28th we reached Bent’s Fort — a large stone structure built by a Mr. Bent for the purpose of trading for robes with the prairie Indians, and the Cheyennes in particular. The price paid for a buffalo robe at present is ten cups of sugar, about eight pounds. They were formerly bought for from one to four cups of sugar or coffee. Many of the men were so enthusiastic in their admiration of the fort that they took the liberty of getting very drunk by way of compliment, perhaps to it and the very gentlemanly man who did the honors of the house in Mr. Bent’s absence.6 After tarrying an hour or so, the merry men continued their journey, but went only three miles further that day. Up to this time our company had been remarkably healthy. This afternoon, however, several were taken ill. Among the sufferers some of the quasi moralists who so opposed my mode of dress, and woman’s freedom. One of the actors in this disgraceful occurrence — the one-fourth of which I have not described — an eminent attorney,7 has since returned to eastern Kansas and written a long letter on the trip, in whch he stigmatizes “strong minded women and weak minded men,” and greatly fears for the morality of the world on their account. But of such stuff are generally the croakers against reform everywhere.
After leaving Bent’s Fort we began to look anxiously for a glimpse of Pike’s Peak. On the evening of July 3d, after camping, a sudden rain and hail storm came upon us, penetrating more or less every wagon cover, and blowing down most of the tents. The next morning we bid farewell to the Arkansas River, whose company we had kept three hunded miles. Traveling but fifteen miles, the train camped early this evening, in order to celebrate the “glorious fourth.” This was done by consuming what little whiskey remained among the members. This day we obtained the first view of the summit of the Peak, now some seventy miles away. As all expected to find precious treasure near this wonderful Peak, it is not strange that our eyes were often strained by gazing on it. The summit appeared majestic in the distance, crowned with glistening white.
We were passing over an uneven road to-day, and getting a mile or two in advance of wagons, we came upon a pair of antelope grazing. Immediately dropping upon the ground that we might not frighten them, we had a fine opportunity to examine their beautiful form and motion. They advanced toward us until they were scarcely ten rods off, with eyes riveted upon us, perhaps a minute, when sudden as lightning they started and bounded away like the wind. Their smooth form, with slender, tapering legs, glossy hair, bright large eyes, their graceful, lofty and intelligent motion, left a deep impress of their beauty.
Proceeding up the Boiling-Spring River, we arrived on the 8th as near as wagons could approach the mountains.
From this time until the tenth of Aug., with the exception of two days, the train remained encamped in this locality. For one who has not experience to aid his effort, it will be quite impossible to imagine the disgusting inactivity, and monotony of camp life. Eating, sleeping, smoking tobacco, manufacturing pipes out of a soft white magnesia limestone rock, found near camp, which they also made into finger rings; playing cards a very large portion of the days, the chief game being eucre and cribbage; becoming weary of playing for fun, to add a little excitement to the game staking their guard, consisting four hours of day watch and four hours of night, each occurring about once a week. Occasionally the routine would be interrupted by alarms of Indians trying to stampede the cattle. Sometimes, too, a few of the men would wake up and start out for a trip of three of four days, perhaps in search of gold; for the summit of the mountain; or as was more frequently the case to hunt deer, antelope, bears, &c. On these hunting expeditions they always started in fine spirits, but returned generally serious, without game, reporting having seen thousands of deer and antelope, but the timid animals would not permit them to approach near enough to kill them. For a description of our visit to the summit of Pike’s Peak, I take the following extract from my journal.
’’Aug. 1st 1858 — After an early breakfast this morning, my husband and I adjusted our packs to our backs and started for the ascent of Pike’s Peak. My own pack weighed 17 pounds; nine of which were bread, the remainder a quilt and clothing. James’ pack weighed 35 pounds, and was composed as follows — tens pounds bread, one pound hog meat, three fourths pound coffee, one pound sugar, a tin plate, knife and fork, half gallon canteen, half gallon tin pail and a tin pint cup, five quilts, clothing, a volume of Emerson’s Essays, and writing materials made up the remainder. We calculate on this amount of food to subsist six days. A walk of a mile brought us to the crossing of Boiling spring river. It is an impetuous, ice cold stream at this point, about twelve feet wide, knee deep, with a cobble stone bottom. Undressing our feet we attempted it several times before we could cross, the water was so intensely cold we were ready to drop down in pain on reaching the opposite bank. Three miles further we reached the wonderful Boiling springs, which Fremont has made known to the world in his expeditions. There are but three which we noticed. The strong carbonated waters mingled with bubbles of carbonic acid gas, boil continually in the rocky fountains within which they are set by nature better than they could be by art. In the center of broad solid rocks somewhat elevated above the ground around them, composed by the deposition of their own waters, these springs ceaselessly boil. We speculated on the limestone cave which may somewhere exist above the spring in the heart of the mountain, since they are constantly bringing away limestone in solution. We drank deep from these Saratogas of the wilderness, and leaving them, in another mile were vigorously attacking the mountain. The first mile or so was sandy and extremely steep, over which we toiled slowly, as we frequently lost all we gained. But by persevering and every rod laying, or rather falling on our backs to rest, we at last reached the timber where we could obtain better footing. We neglected to fill our canteens and now began to feel the want of water. We toiled on and up in hope of soon finding a spring. At one time we went too far to the left — not knowing the route — and got among some huge boulders which we soon saw the necessity of getting out of the best way we could. After finding the right track we continued, but we had lost so much time in getting among the rocks, and become so hungry, that after proceeding a couple of miles farther, and catching a glimpse of water in a deep canyon, we halted and considered the state of our case. The question was, should we descend that terrible canyon only to ascend again, or proceed on our journey not knowing when we should reach water? Our longing for water triumphed and down we rushed with such eagerness as is only inspired by suffering. We are camped here until tomorrow. It is now ten o’clock in the evening, and I am reclining before some blazing logs beside a torrent in a mountain canyon several hundred feet deep. The straight slender, tapering pines that stand around so beautiful in their death, smooth, white and sound, having been stripped of their bark by fire, calmly point to a sky more serene, and to stars far brighter than usual. The trees and the sky almost seem to strive together in preserving a deeper silence. But there is music from the foaming stream, sounds from a dozen little cascades near and far blend together — a thundering sound, a rushing sound, a rippling sound, and tinkling sounds there are; and a thousand shades of sound to fill up between them. The burning pine crackles and snaps, showering sparks, cinders and even coals around and all over the sheet I am writing on, as if to mock the tame thoughts they light me to write.”
“Snowdell, Aug 4th. — We have given this name to a little nook we are making our home in for a few days. It is situated about four or five rods above the highest spring which gushes from the side of the Peak. On the cold moss overhung by two huge rocks, forming a right angle, we have made a nest of spruce twigs. Some smaller rocks form, with the larger ones just mentioned, a trough about three feet wide, and ten feet long. At the outlet of this narrow space we have built up a chimney. When we lie down the fire is burning but a yard from our feet, while we can stretch our hands over the smaller rocks into a large bank of snow. This we call our home. Eastward, we can look on a landscape of Kansas plains, our view hemmed only by the blue haze of the atmosphere, and extending perhaps two hundred miles. The beauty of this great picture is beyond my powers of description. Down at the base of the mountain the corral of fifteen wagons, and as many tents scattered around it, form a white speck, which we can occasionally distinguish. We think our location grandly romantic. We are on the east side of the Peak, whose summit looming above our heads at an angle of forty-five degrees, is yet two miles away — towards the sky. We arrived here day before yesterday about one o’clock P.M. during a little squall of snow. Yesterday we went in search of a supposed cave about three fourths of a mile along the side of the mountain. We penetrated the canyon with much difficulty, being once obliged to take off our moccasins that we might use the toes and balls of our feet in clinging to the asperities of the sidling rock. We found no cave but a tremendous amphitheater shaped space, whose perpendicular walls rose seven or eight hundred feet high. Piled around this vast circle at the foot of the walls, were granite boulders of all sizes and shapes rising against the walls like the terraced seats of a circus or theater. Deep in the center is a circular spot of green grass, with flowers, and a silvery stream winding through it. We called the place Amphitheater Canyon.
“To-day we remain at home resting, writing and admiring the mocking landscape. For with beauty and deep truth does Emerson remark, “the landscape must always appear mocking until it has human figures as good as itself.”
“These whole mountains are of a feldsparic formation, with an occasional sample of quartz soil that is covered with vegetation which does not occupy one fourth of the mountain where we are. Granite boulders and stones of every size and shape, with granite gravel occupy over three fourths. Beautiful flowers delicate in texture and aroma, grow everywhere, except on the bare rocks, and even within reach of the snow.
“Aug. 5 th — We left Snowdell early this morning for the summit, taking with us nothing but our writing materials and Emerson. We deviated somewhat from our course in order to pass the rim of Amphitheater Canyon. Here on the edge of the perpendicular walls, were poised stones and boulders of all sizes ready to be rolled, with a slight effort, into the yawning abyss. Starting these stones had been a favorite amusement with those who ascended before us, and it savored somewhat of the terrible. When a stone was started it seemed first to leap into the air, and passing from sight nothing would be heard from it for several seconds. Then would come a crashing, thundering sound from the hidden depths below, which seems to continue until lost in the distant lower region. From these hollow distant sounds some of the men had supposed the existence of an inaccessable cave below. As we proved yesterday, however, nothing but a tremendous circular chasm exists. After enjoying this sport a short time we proceeded directly up towards the summit. Arriving within a few hundred yards of the top the surface changed into a huge pile of loose angular stones, so steep we found much difficulty in clambering up them. Passing to the right of a drift of snow some three or four hunded yards long, which sun and wind had turned into coarse ice, we stood upon a platform of near one hundred acres of feldspathic granite rock and boulders. Occasionally a little cranny among the rocks might be found in which had collected some coarse soil from the disintegration of the granite, where in one or two instances we found a green tuft about the size of a teacup from which spring dozens of tiny blue flowers most bewitchingly beautiful. The little ultramarine colored leaves of the flower seemed covered with an infinitude of minute sparkling crystals — they seemed children of the sky and the snow. It was cold and rather cloudy, with squalls of snow, consequently our view was not so extensive as we had anticipated. A portion only of the white back-bone ridge of the Rocky Mountains which forms the boundary lines of so many territories could be seen, fifty miles to the west. We were now nearly fourteen thousand feet above sea level. But we could not spend long in comtemplating the granduer [sic] of the scene for it was exceedingly cold, and leaving our names on a large rock, we commenced letters to some of our friends using a broad flat rock for a writing desk. When we were ready to return I read aloud the lines from Emerson.
“A ruddy drop of manly blood,
The Surging sea outweighs;
The world uncertain comes and goes,
The looser rooted stays.”
Leaving this cloud capped bleak region, we were soon in Snowdell, where we remained only long enough to make up our packs. Before we were ready to say ‘good bye’ the snow was falling quite fast and we left our pretty home as we first saw it, in a snowstorm. We pursued our journey in all possible haste, anxious to find a good camp for the night before dark. At last when I thought I could not go a rod further, we found a capital place, a real bears den it seemed, though large enough for a half a dozen. And here we are enclosed on every side by huge boulders, with two or three large spruce trees stretching their protecting arms over our heads.
The next day near noon we arrived at camp, where we found some excitement existing regarding an attempt which the Indians had made the night before, to drive away the cattle belonging to the train.
I must now close this letter, which has already grown too long, though I have omitted many things equally interesting as those I have recorded. In accordance with a decision of a previous meeting, the camp broke up on the ioth and moved toward New Mexico. We arrived in Sangro Christi (blood of Christ) Pass, N.M., on the 18th, and after remaining there a few days, decided, so far as our wagon was concerned, to abandon camp life and spend the winter in New Mexico. When we last saw the gold seekers most of them were engaged in fishing for trout in the creek of the Sangro de Christi.
Your truly, J.A. Archibald.
EPILOGUE:
The following items are all to be found in the same issue, October 7, 1858, of the Lawrence, Kansas, Republican: First there is an introduction by the editor of the newspaper; then there is an introduction written by the mother of Mrs. Holmes, Jane B. Archibald; and third there is Julia Holmes’ own letter written right on Pikes Peak during her climb of the famous mountain.
FROM THE PEAK
An interesting account of the ascent of Pike’s Peak, by Mrs. Holmes, formerly of this city, will be found in our columns to-day — for which we are indebted by the politeness of Mrs. Archibald, mother of Mrs. Holmes.
In conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Archibald, we learn that they are in receipt of a letter from their son and daughter, dated August 31st. The Lawrence company, as was stated by us a week or two since, have gone to Spanish Peaks, in New Mexico, but had not found gold in paying quantities, at the latest dates. Mr. and Mrs. Holmes, with true American enterprise, had gone to Taos, New Mexico, and engaged in teaching school. This letter also states that while at Pike’s Peak, the Lawrence company sent out prospecting parties over a good deal of the surrounding country, who found gold in all the streams, and at one place on the Platte in quantities sufficient, as they thought, to yield from five to eight dollars a day. It was stongly desired by a portion of the party to go directly to these diggings, and spend the winter there; but another portion were determined on going to Spanish Peaks, and as the whole company were none too numerous for safety among the Indians, they all finally went to Spanish Peaks. Cherry Creek [Denver] does not seem to have been visited by the party at all.
All these accounts do but confirm the unvarying testimony of the existence of gold all along the head waters of the Platte and Arkansas.
FROM THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS — MRS HOLMES ASCENDS PIKE’S PEAK.
Eds. Republican: — I send you the following short extract from a letter recently received from my daughter, Mrs. Holmes, who has been traveling with her husband in the vicinity of Pike’s Peak, and the western extremity of Kansas, and now probably in some of the frontier towns of New Mexico. Though not written with any view to publication, yet, as I have thought that it would very much gratify her numerous friends and acquaintances to hear from her through the medium of your paper. I send you the enclosed. Yours truly.
JANE B. ARCHIBALD.
Aug. 2d, 1858
DEAR MOTHER: — I write to you sitting in our little house among the rocks, about one hour’s walk from the summit of Pike’s Peak. It is a curious little nook which we have selected as our temporary home, formed by two very large overhanging rocks, and enclosed by a number of smaller ones, while close beside it is a large snow bank which we can reach with ease. Our couch is composed of a large quantity of spruce boughs, (cut with that little knife which you have used so much). These we arrange on the rock, upon which we spread some quilts — reserving others for covering — and by the help of a good fire which we keep burning all night, we can manage to keep the cold off very well.
Two days of very hard climbing has brought me here — if you could only know how hard, you would be surprised that I have been able to accomplish it. My strength and capacity for enduring fatigue have been very much increased by constant exercise in the open air since leaving home, or I never could have succeeded in climbing the rugged sides of this mountain. There was some steep climbing the first day, and I would sometimes find it almost impossible to proceed. I was often obliged to use my hands — catching, now at some propitious twig which happened to be within reach and now trusting to some projecting stone. But fortunately for me this did not last more than a mile or so.
We have brought about a week’s provisions, purposing to remain here and write some letters, &c. This is the most romantic of places. Think of the high rocks projecting out in all imaginable shapes, with the beautiful evergreens, the pines, the firs, and spruces, interspersed among them; and then the clear, cold mountain stream, which appears as though it started right out from under some great rock —and on it goes, rushing, tumbling and hissing down over the rough mountain sides, now sparkling in the sunbeams and now hiding behind some huge rock, and now rising again to view, it rushes on, away down, down, until at length it turns a corner and is lost to our sight. Then think of the fragrant little flowers — so many different kinds, and some of them growing within reach of our snowbank: I will send you some of the different kinds. — There is one little blue flower here which, for some reason, I cannot tell exactly what, whether it is the form, color, or fragrance, but it has had the effect to carry me back in imagination to the days of my childhood, in my far down Eastern home.
But I shall not write any more now, for I mean to finish this on top of the mountain.
PIKE’S PEAK, AUG. 5, 1858.
I have accomplished the task which I marked out for myself, and now I feel amply repaid for all my toil and fatigue. Nearly every one tried to discourage me from attempting it, but I believed that I should succeed; and now here I am, and feel that I would not have missed this glorious sight for anything at all.
In all probability I am the first woman who has ever stood upon the summit of this mountain, and gazed upon this wondrous scene which my eyes now behold. How I sigh for a poet’s power of description, so that I might give you some faint idea of grandeur and beauty of this scene. Extending as far as the eye can reach, lie the great level plains, stretched out in all their verdure and beauty, while the winding of the grand Arkansas is visible for many miles. We can also see distinctly where many of the smaller tributaries unite with it. — Then the rugged rocks all around, and the almost endless succession of mountains and rocks below, the broad blue sky over our heads, and seemingly so very near, — and everything, on which the eye can rest fills the mind with infinitude and sends the soul to God.
1This costume had been worn by a number of other women on the western trails. See Covered Wagon Women, Volume IV, 1852 to California, for a discussion of this subject (pp. 12-15).
2Benjamin M. Shambaugh, “Hasbrouck, Lydia Sayer.” Dictionary of American Biography, VIII (New York, 1932). pp. 306–07; Robert E. Riegel, American Women: A Story of Social Change(Cranbury, N.J, .1970), pp.204–05: Paul S. Boyer, “Hasbrouck, Lydia Sayer,” in Edward T. James, ed., Notable American Women, 1607–1950, II (Cambridge, MA, 1971), pp. 151–52.
3Now Fort Union National Monument, located on U.S. Freeway #25, 27 miles northeast of Las Vegas. It was established by Col. Edwin V. Sumner in 1851 at a spring called Las Posas by the Mexicans, “The Holes” by the Americans. It served as a military center of activities for smaller posts throughout the southwest. It was a key point to be defended during the Civil War. It was abandoned by the military in 1891. Chris Emmett, Fort Union and the Winning of the Southwest (Norman, OK, 1965), passim. The massive James W. Arrott Collection on Fort Union is located at New Mexico Highlands University Library, Las Vegas, N M.
1In a “Report of William B. Parsons,” in the Lawrence Republican, Oct. 28, 1858, he says that on June 4 their party was joined while camped on the Cottonwood by “Messrs. Hutchins, Easter, Mills, Turner, Maywood, Archibald, Holmes and wife.” LeRoy R. Hafen, ed., Pike’s Peak Gold Rush Guidebooks of 1859, in The Southwest Historical Series, IX (Glendale, CA, 1941)323–24.
2“Rohert Middleton, wife and child” were listed in a roster prepared by J. F. Younker as member of the Lawrence party. lbid. pp. 62–63.
3William B. Parsons in his guidebook with a most extended title, The New Cold Mines of Western Kansas: Being a Complete Description of the Newly Discovered Gold Mines, the Different Routes, Camping Places, Tools and Outfit, and Containing Everything Important for the Emigrant and Miner to Know, says “ And here, in starting, let me mention the rule — ALWAYS CROSS A CREEK BEFORE CAMPING. The streams rise so rapidly upon the plains that a slight shower at night might prevent crossing in the morning …” Ibid., p. 172.
4J.T. Younker was rhe lost man. Ibid., pp. 124–25.
5Luke V. Tierney became a pioneer of Denver. In the Rocky Mountain News of Feb. 1, 1860, there is the following item: “Directly opposite the Capitol [saloon, on Ferry street] is the new frame residence of Luke Tierney, one of the first settlers, a letter-writer, and the author of a little book on this country, published at Pacific City, Iowa, in February 1859.” The little guidebook published by Tierney was History of the Cold Discoveries on the South Platte River. Ibid., pp. 88–145.
6The indentity of this “very gentlemanly man” is obscure. William Bent was on a business trip east to Kansas City. David Lavender, Bent’s Fort (Garden City, N.Y., 1954), 336–37.
7This was William Bostwick Parsons, a brilliant student of the classics and a lawyer from Burlington, KS. See LeRoy R. Hafen, op. cit.s p. 152, for a brief biography.