Who is Susan Shelby Magoffin, by Kelley Pounds

1. She left an extensive diary of her travels on the Santa Fe Trail in 1846.

2. She was one of the few women to travel the Santa Fe Trail, which was primarily a trade route at the time she traveled.

3. She traveled the Santa Fe Trail just after the United States declared war with Mexico, and she witnessed events of that war from the female perspective. That war later led to the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo in 1848.

"My journal tells a story tonight different from what it has ever done before. The curtain rises now with a new scene. This book of travels is Act 2nd, litterally [sic] and truly. From the city of New York to the Plains of Mexico, is a stride that I can scarcely realize. But now for a bit of my wonderful travels so far. . . ."

Unlike the trails to Oregon and California, the Santa Fe Trail was strictly a trade route between the years 1822 and 1846. During this time, women rarely traveled between Independence, Missouri--the most popular "jumping-off place" for westbound trails at the time of Susan Shelby Magoffin's writing--and Santa Fe. One woman who did, Susan Shelby Magoffin, left a diary, and the opening passage is not only a reflection of her eager and dramatic personality at the beginning of a fateful journey, it epitomizes the expansionist mood and sentiment of the United States in the 1840s.

" . . . The fulfillment of our manifest destiny to overspread the continent allotted by Providence. . . ." was a phrase coined in 1845 by John L. O'Sullivan in the United States Magazine and Democratic Review. Soon, politicians used the term "manifest destiny" to glorify and defend their desire for the United States to annex Texas, occupy the Oregon Territory, and declare war on Mexico. This latter action was due in part to the millions of dollars in revenue brought into the United States economy by the Santa Fe trade.

Born in Kentucky, of a long line of war heroes and pioneers, Susan Shelby was raised in a wealthy home with servants and private tutors. Despite the ease of her life, her family background primed her for her own adventure with "manifest destiny" when, at age eighteen, she fell in love with and married Samuel Magoffin, a veteran Santa Fe trader twenty-seven years her senior.

Following a six-month honeymoon in New York and Philadelphia, which probably served equal time as a merchandise-purchasing trip, the couple set off on the trail in June of 1846, shortly after war had officially been declared with Mexico.

Though Susan likened herself to her pioneer grandmother, in truth she traveled in luxury. With a Rockaway carriage and driver at her disposal, Susan rode in relative comfort, her greyhound, Ring, either at her side or bounding after antelope and buffalo. Even Jane, her personal maid, traveled in her own Dearborn. Her husband hired three Mexican servants to put up and take down the specially made tent, and each night the newlyweds slept in a bed complete with mattress, sheets, blankets, counterpane, pillows, and mosquito netting. The Magoffins also took chickens to provide fresh eggs.

" . . . It is the life of a wandering princess, mine. When I do not wish to get out [of the carriage] myself to pick flowers the Mexican servants riding on mules pick them for me. . . ."

Gifted with enthusiasm, avid curiosity, and a determination to learn, she practiced speaking Spanish and used several endearing terms for her husband in her diary, her favorite being mi alma (my soul). She also recorded a wealth of trail information, important not only for its historical significance, but for its insight into the changes that occurred in her personality.

Early in her journey, her entries crackle with a vitality and theatrical sense of humor not yet stifled by the hardships of trail life. But as their caravan nears Bent's Fort, where they must wait until more American troops arrive to provide the traders safe passage into Santa Fe, the mood of her diary begins to shift to a more serious tone. For several days prior to her arrival at the fort, she writes of being sick, but does not mention the true cause, only that she supposes her illness is due to her "rare celebration of the 4th."

Her "rare celebration" of Independence Day was, in fact, a carriage accident at the Ash Creek crossing. It isn't until she sees Dr. Masure at Bent's Fort and describes his excellence as a physician, "especially in female cases," that the reader begins to understand just what her illness implies. On the day after her nineteenth birthday, Susan miscarried her first child.

Strangely, given her earlier reticence, her entries about this event are detailed and straightforward, even as they signal a more religious and philosophical turn to her character.

She laments her loss by writing, "In a few short months I should have been a happy mother and made the heart of a father glad, but the ruling hand of a mighty Providence has interposed and by an abortion deprived us of the hope, the fond hope of mortals! But with the affliction he does not leave us comfortless! . . ." And later she says: "My situation was very different from that of an Indian woman in the room below me. She gave birth to a fine healthy baby, about the same time, and in half an hour she went to the River and bathed herself in it . . ."

When the Magoffins reached Santa Fe, some of Susan's earlier vivacity returned, although her writings continue to be laced with contemplations of death and mortality-two subjects she had spoken of somewhat jokingly prior to Ash Creek.

On their first night in the village, the Magoffins celebrated with a supper of oysters and champagne in the company of Samuel's brother, James. Known by many as Don Santiago, James Magoffin had been involved in the Santa Fe trade since 1825, and because of his relationship by marriage to the governor of New Mexico, he was instrumental in securing the northernmost settlements for the United States without a battle.

At first Susan shared the common American sentiment that regarded the Mexican people as inferior. But as she entertained the wives of her husband's colleagues and grew accustomed to the cultural differences, her opinion changed. She was constantly impressed, especially by the maturity of manners displayed by many of the children. She worked to improve her Spanish, helped Samuel in his store, and learned to beat the more wily bargainers at their own game. Although she grew to love and respect the people, she did become tired of being the constant object of curiosity, since she was the only American woman most of the New Mexican citizens had ever seen.

Soon she was eager to travel on, and their caravan left Santa Fe for El Paso del Norte, Chihuahua, and points south in the wake of Colonel Alexander Doniphan's troops. As they move closer to the threat of war, her entries become less concerned with trail manners, and the emphasis shifts to movements of the various armies, battle reports, and unfounded rumors of James Magoffin's death. The religious theme continues, even stronger now due to the overwhelming danger of their situation and her fear of impending attack and massacre by dispossessed Mexicans.

On top of "wars and rumors of wars," Susan is expecting again, and for the first time the reader glimpses a hint of change regarding her relationship with Samuel. Gone are the girlish, hero-worshipping references she made early in her journey. Instead, the reality of womanhood has set in, bringing with it a mood of seasoned experience.

"I do think a woman emberaso [embarazada-pregnant] has a hard time of it, some sickness all the time, heart-burn, head-ache, cramp etc. after all this thing of marrying is not what it is cracked up to be."

The couple and their entourage continue to Monterey and Mier. By now, after thirteen months of adventure, Susan is clearly exhausted and has lost interest in recording her experiences and those of her companions. The diary ends unceremoniously just before they embark on a steamship for Comargo.

But that is not the end of Susan's story. She contracted yellow fever at Matamoras. During her illness she gave birth to a son, who might have been named Isaac Shelby after her grandfather, if one of her sisters hadn't already used the name for her own child. Sadly, her son died soon after his birth. Upon her recovery, she and Samuel boarded a vessel from the Mexican coast to New Orleans, then returned to Kentucky.

Samuel abandoned the Santa Fe trade to deal in real estate. Susan gave birth to her third child, Jane, without complications in 1851, and in 1852 the couple moved to Barrett's Station near Kirkwood, Missouri. Shortly after the birth of another daughter in 1855, named after herself, Susan passed away. She was buried in Bellefontaine Cemetery in St. Louis.

Little did Susan Shelby Magoffin realize in her short lifetime that destiny would choose her, through her diary, to be a testimony to the strength, courage, and invincible spirit of the pioneer woman. Her grandmother would have been proud.

Source: Down the Santa Fe Trail and Into Mexico: The Diary of Susan Shelby Magoffin