The Seat of Empire — Context and Discussion

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Coffin, Charles Carleton, 1823-1896 Project Gutenberg 2013 Not confirmed
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Coffin's 1870 travel narrative uses precise observation of emigrant wagons, campfire cooking, and regional speech to argue that the Northern Pacific Railroad will transform the Minnesota-Dakota frontier into the future seat of American empire.
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FROM CHICAGO TO MINNEAPOLIS.

PAGE Cutting loose from Care.--Map of the Northwest.--Leaving Chicago.--Fourth of July.--At La Crosse.--Dance on a Steamboat.--Up the Mississippi.--The Boundaries of Minnesota.--Winona.--St. Paul.--Minneapolis.--The Father of Waters in Harness 1

ST. CLOUD AND BEYOND.

St. Cloud.--Our Party.--First Night in Camp.--A Midnight Thunder-Storm.--Sunday in Camp.--Up the Sauk Valley.-- White Bear Lake.--Catching a Turtle.--Lightning Lake.-- Second Sabbath in Camp.--The River Systems of the Northwest --Elevations across the Continent.--The Future 25

THE RED RIVER COUNTRY.

Down the Valley of the Red River.--Breckenridge.--Fort Abercrombie.--Climate.--Winters at Winnipeg.--Burlington. --The Emigrant.--Father Genin.--Mackenzie.--Harman.--Sir John Richardson.--Captain Palliser.--Father De Smet.-- Winters on the Saskatchawan.--Snow-Fall 51

THE EMPIRE OF THE NORTHWEST.

Winnipeggers.--Ride over the Prairie.--Dakota City.-- Georgetown.--Hudson Bay Company Teams.--Parting with our Friends.--The 43d Parallel.--Dakota.--Wyoming.-- Montana.--Idaho.--Oregon.--Washington.--British Columbia. --Distances.--Fisheries of the Pacific.--Mr. Seward's Speech 77

Bottineau.--The Leaf Hills.--A Ride over the Plain.--The Park Region.--Settlers.--How they kept the Fourth of July.--Chippewa Indians.--Rush Lake.--A Serenade on the Prairie.--German Pioneers.--Otter-Tail Lake 109

Noon Lunch.--Toasting Pork.--A Montana Dutchman.--Emigrant Trains.--Camping at Night--Wheat of Minnesota.--The State in 1849.--A Word to Young Men.--Boys once more.--Our Last Camp-Fire 123

Down-Easters.--The Eden of Lumbermen.--Country East of the Mississippi.--The Climate of the Forest Region.--White Bear Lake.--Travellers from Duluth.--A Maine Farmer in Minnesota.--Chengwatona.--Pitching of the Mud-Wagon.-- Grindstone.--Kettle River.--Superior 137

Duluth.--Minnesota Point.--The Projected Breakwater.-- Comparison with the Suez Canal.--The Town.--Period of Navigation.--The Lake Superior and Mississippi Railroad. --Transportation.--Elevators.--St. Louis River.--Minnesota Slate Quarry.--An Indian Chief and his Followers.-- Railroad Lands.--Manufacturing Industry.--Terms of the Railroad Company 164

The Apostle Islands.--Bayfield.--The Harbor.--Breakfast with Captain Vaughn.--Ashland.--Big Trout.--Ontonagon.-- Approach to Marquette.--The Harbor.--The Town.--Discovery of Iron Ore.--Mining Companies.--Varieties of Ore.--The Miners.--The Coming Years 169

A Talk about the Northwest.--Mr. Blotter.--He wants a Farm.--Government Lands.--Homestead Law of Minnesota.-- Exemption Laws.--The St. Paul and Pacific Railroad.-- Liberal Terms of Payment.--Stock-Raising.--Robbing Mother Earth.--Native Grasses.--Fruit.--Small Grains.-- Productions of the State, 1869.--Schools.--When to Emigrate.--Prospective Development.--The Tide of Emigration 186

NORTHERN PACIFIC RAILROAD.

How Communities grow.--Humboldt.--What I saw in 1846.-- The Pacific Coast.--River-Systems.--Lewis and Clark.-- Jeff Davis.--Charter of the Company.--The Projectors.-- The Line.--From Lake Superior to the Mississippi.--To the Rocky Mountains.--Deer Lodge Pass.--The Western Slope.--Mr. Roberts's Report.--Snow Blockades.-- Elevations.--Power of Locomotives.--Bureau of Emigration.--Portable Houses.--Help to Emigrants.-- The Future 207

FROM CHICAGO TO MINNEAPOLIS.

Last summer I cut loose from all care, and enjoyed a few weeks of freedom and recreation with a party of gentlemen on the frontier between Lake Superior and the Missouri River. I was charmed by the beauty of the country, amazed at its resources, and favorably impressed by its probable future. Its attractions were set forth in a series of letters contributed to the Boston Journal.

People from every Eastern State, as well as from New York and the British Provinces, have called upon me since my return, for the purpose of "having a talk about the Northwest," while others have applied by letter for additional or specific information, and others still have requested a republication of the letters. In response to these calls this small volume has been prepared, setting forth the physical features of the vast reach of country lying between the Lakes and the Pacific, not only in the United States, but in British America as well.

The most trustworthy accounts of persons who have lived there, as well as of engineers who have been sent out by the United States, British, and Canadian governments, have been collated, that those seeking a home in Minnesota or Dakota may know what sort of a country lies beyond, and what will be its probable future.

The map accompanying the volume has been prepared for the most part by the Bureau of the United States Topographical Engineers. It gives me pleasure to acknowledge my indebtedness to Major-General Humphreys, in charge of the Bureau, and to Colonel Woodruffe, in charge of the map department, for permission to use the same.

Through their courtesy I am enabled to place before the public the most complete map ever published of the country between the 36th and 55th parallel, extending across the continent, and showing not only the entire railway system of the Eastern and Middle States, but also the Union Pacific Railroad and the Northern Pacific, now under construction. The figures followed by the letter T have reference to the elevation of the locality above tide-water, thus enabling the reader to obtain at a glance a comprehensive idea of the topographical as well as the geographical features of the country.

"All aboard for the Northwest!"

So shouted the stalwart porter of the Sherman House, Chicago, on the morning of the 5th of July, 1869.

Giving heed to the call, we descended the steps of the hotel and entered an omnibus waiting at the door, that quickly whirled us to the depot of the Chicago and Northwestern Railroad.

There were about a dozen gentlemen in the party, all bound for the Northwest, to explore a portion of the vast reach of country lying between Lake Superior and the great northern bend of the Missouri River.

It was a pleasant, sunny, joyful morning. The anniversary of the nation's independence having fallen on the Sabbath, the celebration was observed on Monday, and the streets resounded with the explosion of fire-crackers. Americans, Germans, Norwegians, Irish, people of all nationalities, were celebrating the birthday of their adopted country. Not only in Chicago, but throughout the cosmopolitan State of Wisconsin, as we sped over its fertile prairies and through its towns and villages during the day, there was a repetition of the scene.

Settlers from New England and the Middle States were having Sabbath-School, temperance, or civic celebrations; Irish societies were marching in procession, bearing green banners emblazoned with the shamrock, thistle, and harp of Erin; Germans were drinking lager beer, singing songs, and smoking their meerschaums. All work was laid aside, and all hands--farmers with their wives and daughters, young men with their sweethearts, children in crowds--were observing in their various ways the return of the holiday.

Our route was by way of La Crosse, which we reached late in the evening. We were to go up the Mississippi on a steamer that lay moored to the bank. Its cabin was aglow with lights. Entering it, we found a party of ladies and gentlemen formed for a quadrille. They were the officers of the boat and their friends from the town. A negro with a bass-viol, and two Germans with violins, were tuning their instruments and rosining their bows.

We were met upon the threshold by a rosy-cheeked damsel, who gleefully exclaimed,--

"O, yeau have arrived at the right moment! We are having a right good time, and we only want one more gentleman to make it go real good. Yeau'll dance neaw, won't ye? I want a partner. O, ye will neaw. I know ye will, and ye'll call off the changes tew, won't ye? Neaw dew."

Not having a "light fantastic toe" on either foot, we were forced to say no to this lively La Crosse maiden; besides, we were tired and covered with dust, and in sad plight for the ball-room. A member of Congress was next appealed to, then a grave and dignified Doctor of Divinity.

A more ungallant party than ours never stood on a Western steamboat. Governor, judge, parson, members of Congress, all shook their heads and resisted the enthusiastic lady. In vain she urged them, and the poor girl, with downcast countenance, turned from the obdurate Yankees, and sailed in gloriously with a youth who fortunately entered the cabin at the moment.

It was a rare sight to see, for they danced with a will. They made the steamer shake from stem to stern. The glass lamps tinkled in their brass settings, and the doors of staterooms rattled on their hinges, especially when the largest gentleman of the party came to a shuffle.

He is the Daniel Lambert of the Mississippi,--immense and gigantic, and having great development round the equator.

Quadrille, cotillon, and waltz, and genuine western break-downs followed one after the other. There was plenty to eat and drink in the pantry. The first thing we heard in the evening was the tuning of the instruments; the last thing, as we dropped off to sleep, was the scraping of the violins and the shuffling of feet.

We are awake in the morning in season to take a look at the place before the boat casts off from its mooring for a trip to Winona.

A company of Norwegian emigrants that came with us on the train from Chicago are cooking their breakfast in and around the station. They sailed from Christiania for Quebec, and have been six weeks on the way. All ages are represented. It is a party made up of families. There are many light-haired maidens among them with deep blue eyes and blonde complexions; and robust young men with honest faces, who have bidden farewell forever to their old homes upon the fiords of Norway, and who henceforth are to be citizens of the United States.

They will find immediate employment on the railroads of Minnesota, in the construction of new lines. They are not hired by the day, but small sections are let out to individuals, who receive a specified sum for every square yard of earth thrown up.

There is no discussion of the eight-hour question among them. They work sixteen hours of their own accord, instead of haggling over eight. They have no time to engage in rows, nor do they find occasion. They have had a bare existence in their old home; life there was ever a struggle, the mere keeping together of soul and body, but here Hope leads them on. They are poor now, but a few years hence they will be well off in the world. They will have farms, nice houses, money in banks, government bonds, and railway stocks. They will obtain land at government price, will raise wheat, wool, or stock, and will soon find their land quadrupled in value. They will make excellent citizens. Their hearts are on the right side,--not physiologically, but morally, politically, and religiously speaking. They are ardent lovers of liberty; they cannot be trammelled by any shackles, political or ecclesiastical. They are frugal, industrious, and honest. Already there are several daily papers published in the Scandinavian language.

The steamer is ploughing the Mississippi against the current northward. Wisconsin is on our right, Minnesota on our left; and while we are moving on toward the region of country which we are to visit, we may while away the time by thinking over the general characteristics of the State of Minnesota, in which our explorations are to commence.

The southern boundary strikes the river twenty-two miles below La Crosse. If I were to go down there and turn my steps due west, I might walk two hundred and sixty-four miles along the Iowa line before reaching the southwestern corner of the State. The western side is the longest, and if I were to start from the southwestern corner and travel due north, I should have a journey of three hundred and sixty miles to accomplish before reaching the northern boundary,--the line between the United States and British America.

Starting from Pembina, at the northwest corner of the State, on the Red River of the North, and travelling due east eighty miles, I should reach the Lake of the Woods; sailing across it sixty miles, then entering the river leading to Rainy Lake, I might pass through the wonderful water-way of lakes and rivers reaching to Lake Superior,--a distance of about four hundred miles.

The eastern boundary formed by the Mississippi, St. Croix, and Lake Superior is more irregular. Its general outline, as we look at it upon the map, is that of a crescent, cutting into Minnesota, the horns turned eastward. The area within the boundaries thus described is estimated at 84,000 square miles, or 54,760,000 acres. It is a territory larger than Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Connecticut combined.

Here, upon the Mississippi, I gaze upon bluffs of gray limestone wrought into fantastic shape by the winds and storms of centuries and by the slow wearing of the river; but were I to climb them, and gain the general level of the country, I should behold rolling prairies dotted with lakes and ponds of pure water, and groves of oak and hickory. All of Minnesota east of the Mississippi is a timbered region. Here and there are openings; but, speaking in general terms, the entire country east of the river is a forest, which through the coming years will resound with the axe of the lumberman.

When we go up the Mississippi eighty miles above St. Paul to St. Cloud, we shall find the Sauk River coming in from the west; and there the Mississippi is no longer the boundary of the timbered lands, but the forest reaches across the stream westward to Otter-Tail River, a distance of more than one hundred miles. The Sauk River is its southern boundary.

All the region north of the Sauk, at the head-waters of the Mississippi and north of Lake Superior, is well supplied with timber. A belt of woods forty miles wide, starting from the Crow-Wing River, extends south nearly to the Iowa boundary. It is broken here and there by prairie openings and fertile meadows. The tract is known throughout the Northwest as the region of the "Big Woods."

There are fringes of timber along the streams, so that the settler, wherever he may wish to make a home, will generally find material for building purposes within easy reach. In this respect Minnesota is one of the most favored States of the Union.

The formations of the bluffs now and then remind us of old castles upon the Rhine. They are, upon an average, three hundred and fifty feet above the summer level of the river. We are far from the Gulf of Mexico, yet the river at St. Paul is only six hundred and seventy-six feet above tide-water.

Northward of Minneapolis the bluffs disappear, and the surface of the river is but a few feet below the general level of the country, which is about one thousand feet above the sea.

It is one of the remarkable topographical features of the continent, that from St. Paul to the Peace River, which empties into the Athabasca, the elevation is about the same, though the distance is more than one thousand miles. Throughout this great extent of territory, especially in Minnesota, are innumerable lakes and ponds of pure fresh water, some of them having no visible outlet or inlet, with pebbly shores and beaches of white sand, bordered by groves and parks of oak, ash, and maple, lending an indescribable charm to the beauty of the landscape.

While we are making these observations the steamer is nearing Winona, a pleasant town, delightfully situated on a low prairie, elevated but a few feet above the river. The bluffs at this point recede, giving ample room for a town site with a ravine behind it.

Nature has done a great deal for the place,--scooping out the ravine as if the sole purpose had been to make the construction of a railroad an easy matter. The Winona and St. Peter's Railway strikes out from the town over the prairie, winds through the ravine, and by easy grades gains the rolling country beyond. The road is nearly completed to the Minnesota River, one hundred and forty miles. It will eventually be extended to the western boundary of the State, and onward into Dakota. It is now owned by the Chicago and Northwestern Railway Company, and runs through the centre of the second tier of counties in the State. The Southern Minnesota Railroad starts from La Crosse, and runs west through the first tier of counties. It is already constructed half-way across the State, and will be pushed on, as civilization advances, to the Missouri. That is the objective point of all the lines of railway leading west from the Mississippi, and they will soon be there.

This city of Winona fifteen years ago had about one hundred inhabitants. It was a place where steamers stopped to take wood and discharge a few packages of freight, but to-day it has a population of nine thousand. Looking out upon it from the promenade deck of the steamer, we see new buildings going up, and can hear the hammers and saws of the carpenters. It already contains thirteen churches and a Normal School with three hundred scholars, who are preparing to teach the children of the State, though the probabilities are that most of them will soon teach their own offspring instead of their neighbors'; for in the West young men are plenty, maidens scarce. Out here--

"There is no goose so gray but soon or late Will find some honest gander for her mate."

Not so in the East, for the young men there are pushing west, and women are in the majority. It is a certainty that some of them will know more of single blessedness than of married life. If they would only come out here, the certainty would be the other way.

Not stopping at Winona, but hastening on board the train, we fly over the prairie, up the ravine, and out through one of the most fertile sections of the great grain-field of the Northwest.

The superintendent of the road, Mr. Stewart, accompanies our party, and we receive pleasure and profit by having a gentleman with us who is so thoroughly informed as he to point out the objects of interest along the way. By a winding road, now running under a high bluff where the limestone ledges overhang the track, now gliding over a high trestle-bridge from the northern to the southern side of the deep ravine, we gain at length the general table-land, and behold, reaching as far as the eye can see, fields of wheat. Fences are visible here and there, showing the division of farms; but there is scarcely a break in the sea of grain, in flower now, rippling and waving in the passing breeze. Farm-houses dot the landscape, and white cottages are embowered in surrounding groves, and here and there we detect a small patch of corn or an acre of potatoes,--small islands these in the great ocean of wheat reaching westward, northward, and southward.

We are astonished when the train nears St. Charles, a town of two thousand inhabitants, looking marvellously like a New England village, to see a school-house just completed at a cost of $15,000! and still wider open we our eyes at Rochester, with a population of six thousand, where we behold a school-building that has cost $60,000! Upon inquiry we ascertain that the bulk of the population of these towns is from New England.

A ride of about ninety miles brings us to Owatona, a town of about three thousand inhabitants.

We are in Steele County. The little rivulets here meandering through the prairie and flowing southward reach the Mississippi only after crossing the State of Iowa, while those running northward join the Mississippi through the Minnesota River.

Here, as at Rochester, we behold charming landscapes, immense fields of grain, groves of trees, snug cottages and farm-houses, and a thrifty town. Owatona has a school-house that cost the citizens $20,000; yet nine years ago the population of the entire county was only 2,862! The census of 1870 will probably make it 15,000. So civilization advances, not only here, but all through the Northwest, especially where there are railroad facilities.

From Owatona we turn north and pass through Rice County, containing eighteen townships. It is one of the best-timbered counties west of the Mississippi; there are large tracts of oak, maple, butternut, walnut, poplar, elm, and boxwood. We glide through belts of timber where choppers are felling the trees for railroad ties, past fields where the industrious husbandman has turned the natural grasses of the prairie into blooming clover.

At Faribault a company of Norwegians, recently arrived from their homes beyond the sea, and not having reached their journey's end, are cooking their supper near the station. To-morrow they will be pushing on westward to the grounds already purchased by the agent who has brought them out.

Coffin opens The Seat of Empire not with a map or a manifesto but with a specific, almost homely image: a barefoot boy swinging from a tin kettle suspended beneath an emigrant wagon axle. That detail—the kettle, the dust, the yellow dog trotting behind—is the book's signature method. Coffin builds his argument for westward expansion not through abstract statistics but through the material texture of the frontier: the tin baker used to bake cakes over a campfire, the hoop-skirt and chicken-coop visible at the rear of a wagon, the bright-eyed boy marching behind with his sister driving a cow and calf. These are the particulars that give his prose its persuasive weight.

The Emigrant as Evidence

Coffin repeatedly turns to the emigrant wagon as a unit of measurement and a moral emblem. In one extended passage, he inventories a typical train: oxen, boxes, barrels, chairs, tables, pots, pans, a grandmother, a wife with an infant, romping children, a tow-headed urchin covered with dust. The list is deliberately exhaustive, as if Coffin wants the reader to feel the weight and smell the dust of the road. He notes that some teams have been two months en route, and that each night the family sleeps beneath the wagon while the father smokes his pipe and snores on the ground. These details are not sentimental; they are data points in Coffin's larger argument that settlement is an inexorable, almost mechanical process. The phrase "a great army of occupation" recurs, and Coffin treats each wagon as a soldier in that army. He is careful to let the emigrants speak through their possessions—the tin baker "such as was found in every New England home forty years ago"—rather than through direct quotation, which he uses sparingly.

The Voice of the Montana Farmer

When Coffin does quote a speaker, he chooses a Montana farmer who complains that he cannot sell anything because miners are scattered and there is no railroad. The farmer's testimony is presented as a kind of natural evidence: "This farmer says that Montana is destined to be a great stock-growing State." Coffin then corroborates the farmer's claim with "statements made by those who have visited the Territory." The effect is to make the farmer's voice representative rather than idiosyncratic. Coffin's own authorial voice remains that of a compiler and interpreter, not a participant. He does not claim to have interviewed the farmer; he simply records what the farmer said, then adds that the testimony "accords" with other reports. This method gives the book a documentary quality, as if Coffin is assembling a case file for the railroad's necessity. The farmer's words are the closest the book comes to dialogue, and they are used instrumentally, to advance the argument about infrastructure.

The Rhetoric of the Inevitable

Coffin's prose is driven by a series of rhetorical moves that transform observation into prediction. He notes that in 1854 Minnesota produced no wheat for export; by 1870, the fields are wider each year. He then projects this trajectory forward: "twelve months hence will be much larger than they are to-day." The present tense of the travel narrative—"we have met to-day a long train of wagons"—slides into a future tense of national destiny. Coffin uses the word "destined" repeatedly, and he frames the Northern Pacific Railroad not as a commercial venture but as a natural culmination: "What stronger argument can there be, what demonstration more forcible, for the immediate construction of the Northern Pacific Railroad?" The question is rhetorical, but it is grounded in the concrete details he has just provided. The book's structure mirrors this logic: each chapter accumulates evidence—climate, soil, mineral wealth, population movement—until the conclusion feels less like an argument than an inevitability.

The Texture of the Frontier

Coffin's descriptive passages are notable for their sensory precision. He notes the bunch-grass covering the hills, the oxen cropping the rich grasses, the cow supplying milk for the little ones. He observes that the emigrant's family gathers an armful of sticks for the fire, and that the mother bakes a cake in a tin baker. These details are not decorative; they function as evidence of self-sufficiency and resourcefulness. Coffin also attends to the sounds of the frontier: the serenade on the prairie, the dance on a steamboat, the midnight thunderstorm in camp. He is particularly attentive to the visual clutter of the wagon—the hoop-skirt, the chicken-coop, the pig in a box—which he presents as a kind of inventory of civilization in transit. The effect is to make the frontier feel both chaotic and orderly, a place where every object has a purpose and every person a role. Coffin's eye for the incongruous—the chromo-lithograph of Whittier's ideal boy adorning a home—adds a layer of cultural commentary without breaking the documentary tone.

Coffin's book is best read as a piece of advocacy journalism, not a neutral travelogue. He is explicit about his purpose: to demonstrate the necessity of the Northern Pacific Railroad. But the evidence he marshals—the emigrant wagons, the farmer's testimony, the expanding wheat fields—is presented with a journalist's eye for detail rather than a booster's bombast. Readers will find the most value in Coffin's descriptions of material life on the frontier, which are precise enough to serve as primary sources for the period. The argument itself is of its time; the observations remain vivid.

Reading Coffin’s wagons and campfire smoke, I remembered my grandfather’s stories of homesteading—dust on his boots, the slow arithmetic of distance. That same ache of watching a place become something else came back with Spring notes from Tennessee — Edition Insights, where the land feels transient too, each observation a kind of farewell. Both books hold time gently, like something you once held in your hands and can’t quite let go.

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