Thousands upon thousands, in and out of Minnesota . . . are anxiously and impatiently waiting for [an expected treaty] and for the opening of the magnificent country, which is spread out west of us like a beautiful map – a country full of game and heavy timber, and delightful prairies and rich bottom lands – its resources of natural wealth not only not exhausted, but as yet scarcely seen. Their civilization . . . is utterly hopeless; and the welfare of the Indians requires their speedy removal from a neighborhood which makes them daily more dependent, and in which they learn the vices, but attain to none of the virtues of civilized life.” -James Goodhue, Minnesota Pioneer Newspaper How do I explain this? There were no epic battles. There was no damsel in distress. No “once upon a time” or “happily ever after.” Yet, it was the most significant event in the history of Minnesota, the place you live. It was the beginning of everything you now know. It was the beginning of the world you live in, but you’ve never even heard of this event. You’ve never been told. For it happened long ago, too long ago for its effects to be seen as anything but ancillary. Commonplace. Routine. Allow me to give you an example. Have you ever glanced upon the Territorial Seal of Minnesota? I suspect not. Upon that seal is an image. It is an image of a white man with a plow at the Falls of St. Anthony. In the distance is an Indian atop a horse who is riding toward the setting sun. Never mind that the sun is setting in the east. The motto, which is written in Latin, states, “I fain would see what lies beyond.” In this rather brief rendition somehow lies the quintessential depiction of your history and how life came to be the way it is today. But you wouldn’t know it if not for me and for others like me. Those who had the foresight to record your history as it happened. And those who had the curiosity to seek out, perpetuate, and preserve your history. I am speaking of the Treaty of the Traverse des Sioux in 1851. It was this event in which the United States Government negotiated the sale of some thirty-five million acres of land west of the Mississippi River from the Dakota Indians. Much of this land would become the state of Minnesota. But let me back up just briefly in order to give you a better perspective of the monumental event. At the time of the treaty, Minnesota was a very young territory, having been organized on April 9, 1849. It was a large territory consisting of all the land west of Wisconsin and north of Iowa reaching to the Missouri River in the west and the 49th parallel in the north. But the population was quite small, being less than 10,000, and those people in the territory being limited to the settlements of Stillwater, St. Paul, St. Anthony, and the Red River Valley.
It was in 1837 that the territory first began to take shape. At this time the United States government completed the first major land cession with the Dakota and Ojibwe Indians living throughout the Minnesota region. According to these land cession treaties, the Dakota sold their lands east of the Mississippi River while the Ojibwe sold their lands between the Mississippi and St. Croix Rivers and south of the Crow Wing River. The land was purchased by the Americans in order to harness the rich timber resources in the triangle of land between the two rivers. But it also set into motion the destiny that lay ahead. The destiny that all the land would be open to settlement, to civilization, and to prosperity. The agriculturally rich land west of the Mississippi was known by frontier newspapers as the Suland. The next major step toward acquiring the Suland and achieving the American destiny occurred on May 29, 1848, when Wisconsin became the 30th state admitted to the Union. This was important because the western boundary of Wisconsin was fixed at the St. Croix River, thereby leaving those who lived west of the St. Croix in unorganized territory. This would not last long, as industrious and enterprising men such as Henry H. Sibley and Joseph R. Brown sought immediate action. These men, like nearly all men and women along the frontier, extolled popular sovereignty and they insisted upon controlling their own destiny. This, of course, led to the establishment of the Minnesota Territory. This was no small task, by the way, but took much political maneuvering. That is a story for another time. Upon the establishment of Minnesota as a territory came the duty of assigning its governor. This role was bestowed upon Alexander Ramsey, a Whig from Pennsylvania. The new governor arrived in Minnesota in May of 1849 where he took residence with Henry Sibley at Mendota. The two formed a friendship and a political bond which adverse political interests could not disturb. It also established an agreement of sorts: an agreement that the first and foremost political interest of the new territory was the opening of the Suland to white settlement. Congress itself called the region superior to any part of the American Continent. People were clamoring for it, and after all, it was their destiny. Before we go any further, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Frank Blackwell Mayer and I am a young artist from Baltimore, Maryland. I was born December 27, 1827, to a distinguished Baltimore family. My father, Charles F. Mayer, was a prominent lawyer while my mother, Eliza Blackwell, was the daughter of Captain Francis Blackwell, a commander in the merchant service.
At this point you may be wondering what a young artist from Baltimore has to do with the history of Minnesota. Please bear with me as I try to explain. As a child my parents encouraged my artistic talent. When I was still very young they hired for me a tutor named Alfred J. Miller, a local artist of some fame, who, in 1837, traveled all the way to the great Rocky Mountains in the far west. He divulged the tales of his travels and shared with me his experience with the strange and mysterious aborigines that populated the west. These stories inspired within me a sort of wanderlust: a thirst for travel. Just as Mr. Miller before me, I longed to utilize my skills and talents as an artist, to capture scenes of the nowshrinking frontier and to share those scenes with the rest of the world. My ambition led me to Washington City in order to obtain an appointment as an official artist to one of the government expeditions being sent west. I had a number of interviews, including one with the Office of the Topographical Bureau, but such appointments were scarce and I met only with rejection. But, early in 1851 I had heard of an expedition going to Minnesota to purchase from the Indians a land called the Suland. This immediately sparked my interest as I recalled a great explorer named Joseph Nicolett who had established himself near St. Mary’s College in Baltimore. My readers, you no doubt recognize that name as it has been given to a large island above the Falls of St. Anthony, a principal street in Minneapolis, a town, and a county. During the 1830s Joseph Nicolett led several expeditions throughout the upper Mississippi River Basin which included the land that would become Minnesota Territory. After visiting the region, Nicolett himself called it the garden spot of the Mississippi Valley. This, I knew, was the region that I must see. This was the region I must record. It was with this inspiration that I once again traveled to Washington City to apply not only as an artist, but for any position connected with the treaty negotiations in Minnesota Territory. Again I was disappointed, being told that all positions had been filled. But I was undaunted. As luck would have it, while I was at Washington I was introduced to Captain Seth Eastman. Years before Captain Eastman had been stationed at Fort Snelling where he, as an illustrator, was instrumental in recording the life of the Dakota Indians who lived within close proximity of the fort. Throughout our meeting he gave me much information and advice about travel in the west and he furnished me with many useful letters. Following this fortunate meeting I determined once and for all to undertake the trip at my own expense. Just a year earlier I had earned four hundred fifty dollars illustrating a book for my uncle, which I had saved
and could then use for travel expenses. It was my hope that the intercourse with the Indians and others and the sketches I would make would amply repay me for any expenditures I would incur. Hindsight proved me wrong. Yes, I made a living as an artist. But my journal and sketches from the 1851 treaty never became valuable. I thought perhaps I could create a volume from my journal with watercolor drawings worked out from my sketches to be offered to the Historical Society. My idea received some interest and in 1887 I was asked to send the journal and sketchbooks to St. Paul for inspection. However, the society decided against its publication and also against its purchase. Perhaps if I burned them by some degree they would become of value. Sadly, this was not the only time I was rejected in trying to create a lasting piece of Minnesota history through my art and through my experience. I sought wholeheartedly to prepare a painting of the Treaty of the Traverse des Sioux. Not just any painting but an original American work of art: the crowning effort of my life. I first submitted my proposal to the Minnesota state legislature in 1871, but the legislature did not see fit to spend money on an oil painting. Immediately thereafter I retained the hope that I might secure funds through private subscription but once again I was disappointed. For years nothing became of my project until interest was revived in 1885. Though the legislature again failed to pass a bill ordering the painting, the executive council at the Historical Society asked me to send a rough sketch that they might evaluate. I thus did so, but even with the sketch before them, members of the executive council decided they could not procure funds necessary for a larger painting. I was devastated. I made one last attempt to obtain an order from the state to paint a larger picture. This was in 1893 when I had heard that Minnesota planned to build a new capitol building. I immediately wrote the governor of Minnesota and proposed that I be allowed to develop my sketch of the treaty signing to fill a panel on the walls of the new state House. But my proposal was too early. It was not for another ten years, after my own passing, that America’s most talented artists were assigned to decorate the capitol. The project I so longed to do was given to Francis D. Millet. Following my own design and composition, Millet created a painting of the Treaty of the Traverse des Sioux which now decorates the governor’s reception room at the Minnesota State Capitol. I have now given you the information to understand who I am and the brief role I played in your history. What follows is my story and my experience as told through a thoughtful
observer. Believe what you will. Parts may be embellished or changed, dialogue imagined, thoughts projected. But among those things is an important and valuable history. A history that I sought to capture and preserve. This history has unthinkable relevance in your life today. I knew it then and I am sure of it now. Whether right or wrong, it happened, and you ought to know about it. That is why I wrote my story down. That is why I am sharing it once more.