Tamsen Donner’s Last Act of Devotion
A Remarkable Proposal
Twenty-six Present Survivors
McCutchen
Keseberg
The Graves Family
The Murphys
Naming Marysville
The Reeds
The Breens
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Chapter XXIII.
The Orphan Children of George and Tamsen Donner
Sutter, the Philanthropist
”If Mother Would Only Come”
Christian and Mary Brunner
An Enchanting Home
”Can’t You Keep Both of Us?”
Eliza Donner Crossing the Torrent
Earning a Silver Dollar
The Gold Excitement
Getting an Education
Elitha C. Donner
Leanna C. Donner
Frances E. Donner
Georgia A. Donner
Eliza P Donner
Chapter XXIV.
Yerba Buena’s Gift to George and Mary Donner
An Alcalde’s Negligence
Mary Donner’s Land Regranted
Squatters Jump George Donner’s Land
A Characteristic Land Law-suit
Vexatious Litigation
Twice Appealed to Supreme Court, and once to United States Supreme Court
A Well-taken Law Point
Mutilating Records
A Palpable Erasure
Relics of the Donner Party
Five Hundred Articles Buried Thirty-two Years
Knives, Forks, Spoons
Pretty Porcelain
Identifying Chinaware
Beads and Arrow-heads
A Quaint Bridle-bit
Remarkable Action of Rust
A Flint-Lock Pistol
A Baby’s Shoe
The Resting Place of the Dead
Vanishing Land-marks
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Chapter I.
Donner Lake
A Famous Tourist Resort
Building the Central Pacific
California’s Skating Park
The Pioneers
The Organization of the Donner Party
Ho! for California!
A Mammoth Train
The Dangers by the Way
False Accounts of the Sufferings Endured
Complete Roll of the Company
Impostors Claiming to Belong to the Party
Killed by the Pawnees
An Alarmed Camp
Resin Indians
A Mother’s Death.
Three miles from Truckee, Nevada County, California, lies one of the
fairest and most picturesque lakes in all the Sierra. Above, and on
either side, are lofty mountains, with casteliated granite crests, while
below, at the mouth of the lake, a grassy, meadowy valley widens out and
extends almost to Truckee. The body of water is three miles long, one
and a half miles wide, and four hundred and eighty-three feet in depth.
Tourists and picnic parties annually flock to its shores, and Bierstadt
has made it the sub ject of one of his finest, grandest paintings. In
summer, its willowy thickets, its groves of tamarack and forests of
pine, are the favorite haunts and nesting places of the quail and
grouse. Beautiful, speckled mountain trout plentifully abound in its
crystalline waters. A rippling breeze usually wimples and dimples its
laughing surface, but in calmer moods it reflects, as in a polished
mirror, the lofty, overhanging mountains, with every stately pine,
bounding rivulet; blossoming shrub, waving fern, and - high above all,
on the right - the clinging, thread-like line of the snow-sheds of the
Central Pacific. When the railroad was being constructed, three thousand
people dwelt on its shores; the surrounding forests resounded with the
music of axes and saws, and the terrific blasts exploded in the lofty,
o’ershadowing cliffs, filled the canyons with reverberating thunders,
and hurled huge bowlders high in the air over the lake’s quivering
bosom.
In winter it is almost as popular a pleasure resort as during the
summer. The jingling of sleighbells, and the shouts and laughter of
skating parties, can be heard almost constantly. The lake forms the
grandest skating park on the Pacific Coast.
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Yet this same Donner Lake was the scene of one of the most thrilling,
heart-rending tragedies ever recorded in California history. Interwoven
with the very name of the lake are memories of a tale of destitution,
loneliness, and despair, which borders on the incredible. It is a tale
that has been repeated in many a miner’s cabin, by many a hunter’s
campfire, and in many a frontiersman’s home, and everywhere it has been
listened to with bated breath.
The pioneers of a new country are deserving of a niche in the country’s
history. The pioneers who became martyrs to the cause of the development
of an almost unknown land, deserve to have a place in the hearts of its
inhabitants. The far-famed Donner Party were, in a peculiar sense,
pioneer martyrs of California. Before the discovery of gold, before the
highway across the continent was fairly marked out, while untold dangers
lurked by the wayside, and unnumbered foes awaited the emigrants, the
Donner Party started for California. None but the brave and venturesome,
none but the energetic and courageous, could undertake such a journey.
In 1846, comparatively few had dared attempt to cross the almost
unexplored plains which lay between the Mississippi and the fair young
land called California. Hence it is that a certain grandeur, a certain
heroism seems to cling about the men and women composing this party,
even from the day they began their perilous journey across the plains.
California, with her golden harvests, her beautiful homes, her dazzling
wealth, and her marvelous commercial facilities, may well enshrine the
memory of these noble-hearted pioneers, pathfinders, martyrs.
The States along the Mississippi were but sparsely settled in 1846, yet
the fame of the fruitfulness, the healthfulness, and the almost tropical
beauty of the land bordering the Pacific, tempted the members of the
Donner Party to leave their homes. These homes were situated in
Illinois, Iowa, Tennessee, Missouri, and Ohio. Families from each of
these States joined the train and participated in its terrible fate; yet
the party proper was organized in Sangamon County, Illinois, by George
and Jacob Donner and James F. Reed. Early in April, 1846, the party set
out from Springfield, Illinois, and by the first week in May reached
Independence, Missouri. Here the party was increased by additional
members, and the train comprised about one hundred persons.
Independence was on the frontier in those days, and every care was taken
to have ample provisions laid in and all necessary preparations made for
the long journey. Ay, it was a long journey for many in the party! Great
as was the enthusiasm and eagerness with which these noble-hearted
pioneers caught up the cry of the times, ”Ho! for California!” it is
doubtful if presentiments of the fate to be encountered were not
occasionally entertained. The road was difficult, and in places almost
unbroken; warlike Indians guarded the way, and death, in a thousand
forms, hovered about their march through the great wilderness.
In the party were aged fathers with their trusting families about them,
mothers whose very lives were wrapped up in their children, men in the
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prime and vigor of manhood, maidens in all the sweetness and freshness
of budding womanhood, children full of glee and mirthfulness, and babes
nestling on maternal breasts. Lovers there were, to whom the journey was
tinged with rainbow hues of joy and happiness, and strong, manly hearts
whose constant support and encouragement was the memory of dear ones
left behind in home-land. The cloud of gloom which finally settled down
in a death-pall over their heads was not yet perceptible, though, as we
shall soon see, its mists began to collect almost at the outset, in the
delays which marked the journey.
The wonderment which all experience in viewing the scenery along the
line of the old emigrant road was peculiarly vivid to these people. Few
descriptions had been given of the route, and all was novel and
unexpected. In later years the road was broadly and deeply marked, and
good camping grounds were distinctly indicated. The bleaching bones of
cattle that had perished, or the broken fragments of wagons or cast-away
articles, were thickly strewn on either side of the highway. But in 1846
the way was through almost trackless valleys waving with grass, along
rivers where few paths were visible, save those made by the feet of
buffaloes and antelope, and over mountains and plains where little more
than the westward course of the sun guided the travelers. Trading-posts
were stationed at only a few widely distant points, and rarely did the
party meet with any human beings, save wandering bands of Indians. Yet
these first days are spoken of by all of the survivors as being crowned
with peaceful enjoyment and pleasant anticipations. There were beautiful
flowers by the roadside, an abundance of game in the meadows and
mountains, and at night there were singing, dancing, and innocent plays.
Several musical instruments, and many excellent voices, were in the
party, and the kindliest feeling and good-fellowship prevailed among the
members.
The formation of the company known as the Donner Party was purely
accidental. The union of so many emigrants into one train was not
occasioned by any preconcerted arrangement. Many composing the Donner
Party were not aware, at the outset, that such a
tide of emigration was
sweeping to California. In many instances small parties would hear of
the mammoth train just ahead of them or just behind them, and by
hastening their pace, or halting for a few days, joined themselves to
the party. Many were with the train during a portion of the journey, but
from some cause or other became parted from the Donner company before
reaching Donner Lake. Soon after the train left Independence it
contained between two and three hundred wagons, and when in motion was
two miles in length.
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With much bitterness and severity it is alleged by some of the survivors
of the dreadful tragedy that certain impostors and falsifiers claim to
have been members of the Donner Party, and as such have written
untruthful and exaggerated accounts of the sufferings of the party.
While this is unquestionably true, it is barely possible that some who
assert membership found their claim upon the fact that during a portion
of the journey they were really in the Donner Party. Bearing this in
mind, there is less difficulty in reconciling the conflicting statements
of different narrators.
The members of the party proper numbered ninety, and were as follows:
George Donner, Tamsen Donner (his wife), Elitha C. Donner, Leanna C.
Donner, Frances E. Donner, Georgia A. Donner and Eliza P. Donner. The
last three were children of George and Tamsen Donner; Elitha and Leanna
were children of George Donner by a former wife.
Jacob Donner, Elizabeth Donner (his wife), Solomon Hook, William Hook,
George Donner, Jr., Mary M. Donner, Isaac Donner, Lewis Donner and
Samuel Donner. Jacob Donner was a brother of George; Solomon and William
Hook were sons of Elizabeth Donner by a former husband.
James Frazier Reed, Margaret W. Reed (his wife), Virginia E. Reed,
Martha F. (Patty) Reed, James F. Reed, Jr., Thomas K. Reed, and Mrs.
Sarah Keyes, the mother of Mrs. Reed.
The two Donner families and the Reeds were from Springfield, Illinois.
From the same place were Baylis Williams and his half-sister Eliza
Williams, John Denton, Milton Elliott, James Smith, Walter Herron and
Noah James.
From Marshall County, Illinois, came Franklin Ward Graves, Elizabeth
Graves (his wife), Mary A. Graves, William C. Graves, Eleanor Graves,
Lovina Graves, Nancy Graves, Jonathan B. Graves, F. W. Graves, Jr.,
Elizabeth Graves, Jr., Jay Fosdick and Mrs. Sarah Fosdick (ne Graves).
With this family came John Snyder.
From Keokuk, Lee County, Iowa, came Patrick Breen, Mrs. Margaret Breen,
John Breen, Edward J. Breen, Patrick Breen, Jr., Simon P. Breen, James
F. Breen, Peter Breen, and Isabella M. Breen. Patrick Dolan also came
from Keokuk.
William H. Eddy, Mrs. Eleanor Eddy, James P. Eddy, and Margaret Eddy
came from Belleville, Illinois.
From Tennessee came Mrs. Lavina Murphy, a widow, and her family, John
Landrum Murphy, Mary M. Murphy, Lemuel B. Murphy, William G. Murphy,
Simon P. Murphy, William M. Pike, Mrs. Harriet F. Pike (ne Murphy),
Naomi L. Pike, and Catherine Pike. Another son-in-law of Mrs. Murphy,
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William M. Foster, with his wife, Mrs. Sarah A. C. Foster, and infant
boy George Foster, came from St. Louis, Missouri.
William McCutchen, Mrs. W. McCutchen, and Harriet McCutchen were
from
Jackson County, Missouri.
Lewis Keseberg, Mrs. Phillipine Keseberg, Ada Keseberg, and L. Keseberg,
Jr., Mr. and Mrs. Wolfinger, Joseph Rhine