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EDITED BY John Ely Briggs
| Volume VI |
April 1925 |
No. 4 |
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Copyright 1925 by the State Historical Society of Iowa
(Transcribed by Debbie Clough Gerischer)
When Iowa Was Young
Two hundred years ago most of North America
belonged to France. Form his seat of authority in old Quebec the personal
representative of King Louis XV sent his agents - the explorers, soldiers, and
traders - far into the wilderness surrounding the Great Lakes, while Louisiana -
the vast, unmeasured region west of the Mississippi - was ruled from New
Orleans. At strategic points along main-traveled routes, little settlements of
French men flourished. Impregnable Quebec stood at the doorway of the
continent. Farther up the broad St. Lawrence, Three Rivers and Montreal
prospered in none too friendly rivalry, while distant Mackinac and Detroit were
the chief outposts on the Lakes. In the Illinois country - the very heart of
New France - Cahokia and Kaskaskia, stimulated by John Law's fantastic
"Mississippi Bubble", were thriving villages of several hundred habitants,
and Fort Chartres, thirty or forty miles below the mouth of the muddy Missouri,
was known as "the centre of life and fashion in the West." But throughout the
whole country the population consisted mainly of Indians.
For a century and a quarter French soldiers, bold
explorers, black-robed priests, and venturesome traders had been penetrating
toward the interior - each intent upon his own mission. Conquest, exploration,
missionary zeal, and the fur trade were the interests that had driven the
pioneers of France into the wilderness of the new world, seeking their heart's
desire in the face of untold danger and hardship. Hither and thither on the
lakes and rivers they had plied their birch canoes. Forts had been built,
lonely trading posts established, and heathen savages converted to the white
men's faith. But the Indians as a whole had clung tenaciously to their
customary habits of life - hunting their food along the streams and on the
prairie, making "medicine" against disease and famine, moving their abode where
circumstance directed, and raising the tomahawk against their foes.
By the beginning of the eighteenth century,
however, the red men had lost their economic independence. Trained in the ways
of French traders, the savages of the "Upper Country" had developed new tastes.
Silver and copper ornaments from Paris seemed far preferable to their former
wampum belts and colored feathers; spears and arrows lost their potency in
comparison with thunder-belching firearms; and they wanted whisky with a passion
that would not be denied.
In return for the goods of civilization, the
French traders demanded peltries. The greed of the Europeans seemed inexorable.
No longer were the Indians free to go on the hunt when they pleased. They were
compelled to range farther and farther into the forest in search of game, and
their catch was never sufficient. They abandoned their former villages and
clustered their tepees around the trading posts at Green Bay, La Point,
Mackinac, Miami, and Detroit. There they were fed and clothed by the French,
while Jesuit and Sulpician missionaries baptized their papooses, connselled the
wayward, and buried their dead.
The French and Indians might have continued to
live together in harmony had it not been for the recalcitrant Foxes who refused
to submit to white paternalism. The Foxes lived in a strategic location along
the Wisconsin River and consequently were in a position to cut off communication
by way of the famous old Fox-Wisconsin route to the Upper Mississippi and the
rich fur-bearing lake region of Minnesota. No Frenchman passed that way except
at the risk of his life. Moreover, the Foxes, by means of an alliance with the
warlike Sioux to the west, were able to contend with the French on somewhat even
terms. They made war incessantly upon the Illinois and other faithful tribes,
until at last the scalping knife became so busy there was no time or place for
gathering peltries. The fur trade was on the verge of ruin. Trappers and
traders were no longer safe, and energy that would have been used in tracking
the beaver was employed in hunting human Foxes.
The story of the warfare which followed during
the next half century of conflict presents a repulsive succession of cruel deeds
and bloody scenes. At one time two hundred Fox warriors were put to death
without mercy at Detroit. Neighboring tribes continually harassed the hated
Foxes. In 1730, after a season of fierce fighting, the fleeing Renards, as the
French called the Foxes, were overtaken and almost exterminated. This terrible
blow seemed to have so completely destroyed all possibility of further
resistance that the French decided to reestablish their post at Green Bay and to
resume their former sway.
In 1733, however, an incident occurred which led
to renewed hostilities. A French officer, Nicolas Coulon de Villiers, was shot
by the Indians while imprudently visiting a Sauk village without a guard. The
Sauks, conscious of their inability to atone for the death of such a prominent
Frenchman, cast their lot with the remnant of the Foxes and sought refuge beyond
the Mississippi in the land of the Ioways. There the combined Sauk and Fox
tribes continued to prey upon French traders and to pursue the timid Illinois.
In order to maintain its prestige, the government
at Quebec decided to avenge the death of De Villiers and at the same time
destroy the new alliance of the Sauks and Foxes. Accordingly, in the summer of
1734, Governor Beauharnois selected Nicolas Joseph de Noyelles, one of the
best-known French Canadian officers, to lead a punitive expedition against the
Indians of Iowa. Captain de Noyelles was said to be "greatly loved by the
Savages" and to be capable of enduring the fatigues of an arduous campaign and
the hardships of inclement weather.
Reports from Jesuits and traders seemed to agree
that the Sauks and Foxes had established themselves on the Wapsipinicon River,
"two tribes occupied separate villages and it was thought that the Sauks were so
anxious to obtain pardon that they could easily be induced to desert their
allies. With that in view, De Noyelles was instructed to grant peace to the
Sauks "if they consent to give up the Renards", but if they should refuse he was
ordered to "destroy both nations" and let the "Savages eat them up".
Eighty-four Frenchmen eagerly volunteered to go
on the expedition. The force consisted of seven officers, fifty or sixty
cadets, sergeants, and soldiers, and "some settlers". Approximately two hundred
Iroquois, Hurons, and Pottawattamies also "expressed the greatest willingness"
to join the party. On August 14, 1734, this motley throng set out from Montreal
on their long and perilous journey to Iowa.
At Detroit more Indians joined the expedition,
impatient to taste the blood of the hates Foxes and the traitorous Sauks, but a
large party of Ottawas and Algonquins failed to arrive. They sent word that
they wished to live in peace and had decided that the French should forgive the
Sauks.
On January 2, 1735, Captain de Noyelles marched
away from Detroit at the head of his nondescript army, and the overland journey
of hundreds of miles in the dead of winter began. The route lay around the
southern end of Lake Michigan, through the country of the Oniatanous where the
French had a post on the Wabash River about four miles from the modern city of
Lafayette, Indiana. There the Indians began to cause trouble. They had
discovered six lodges of Sauks not far away and wanted to put on their war
paint. In spite of the captain's explanation that the lives of the Sauks should
be spared if they consented to desert the Foxes and that the murder of these
Indians who had sought refuge among the French would destroy the confidence of
other tribes in their white friends, eighty Hurons and Pottawattamies left to
"eat up those six cabins". The Iroquois remained with the expedition but took
no pains to conceal their disaffection.
Some Kickapoos told Captain de Noyelles that if
he went to their principal village on the Rock River near Rock Island he could
fine out where the Renards were dwelling. After holding a council with his men
and the savages, he decided not to proceed to the Illinois villages as he had
planned, but to take a more direct northwesterly course. The expedition had
already "been detained by the ice" for twenty-two days and provisions were
scarce. On snow-shoes and suffering from the cold of mid-winter, the company of
approximately two hundred and fifty men made their way across northern Illinois
to the Mississippi. There they were joined by about forty Kickapoos who, being
friendly with the Foxes, led the expedition astray and greatly lengthened the
journey. Some captive Sauks reported that the Foxes were no longer living on
the Wapsipinicon but "had withdrawn to the Riviere sans fourche", the Des
Moines. The Sauks were told that if they did not lead "straight to the Renards"
they would be "tied to the Stake to be burned".
On the twelfth of March, De Noyelles and his band
reached the old Fox village on the Wapsipinicon but "found Nobody". There they
remained two days on account of "the intense cold" and "without any food".
Provisions were completely exhausted, "the Buffalo were moving away", and a
long fast seemed to be in prospect. The savages had refused to "load themselves
with dried meat so that they might advance better, for they thought that they
were close to the Enemy." As the invaders moved westward, they had to be
content with one "very inferior" meal a day.
Meanwhile, a scouting party which had been sent
out reported the discovery of four recent camping grounds. Two days later they
saw smoke. The little army moved forward stealthily by night, crossing "several
Rivers" with water up to the men's waists. Finally, they halted behind a hill
and the Frenchmen, "greatly fatigued, wet through, and very hungry", wrapped up
in their robes to await daylight. In the morning they "reached a Wood bordering
on a River." The Indians, "who wished to have the glory of arriving first",
thinking that the goal was at hand and that the hostile camp numbered only "four
cabins", ran ahead about twelve miles with the Frenchmen following as best they
could. The race ended abruptly on the bank of the "very wide and rapid" Des
Moines River which was full of floating ice. On the opposite side was the Fox
village that they had come so far to find, but instead of four lodges there were
fifty-five. The place was probably not far from the present site of the capital
of Iowa.
An Iroquois chief proposed that the whole party
should swim across and attack the enemy forthwith. To this suggestion De
Noyelles prudently demurred. He pointed out that it was impossible to swim the
river when the cold was so great, that many of the men might not be able to
swim, that they would wet their arms and ammunition, that only sixty of the men
had arrived, and that the enemy would be able to kill them as fast as they
landed. He, in turn, proposed that the party should withdraw, move farther up
stream, reassemble their full force, build rafts, and cross the river in a
position to attack with some prospect of success. The Indian taunted De
Noyelles for not being a man, to which the captain angrily retorted, "Dog, if
thou art so brave, swim over and let us See what Thou wilt do." The chief did
not avail himself of this opportunity to display his valor, but instead,
accompanied by about forty of his band and several Frenchmen, he departed into
the forest.
Captain de Noyelles moved up the river about
three miles in the hope of joining other parties of the expedition who had
scattered in search of the enemy. Suddenly he heard death cries and came upon a
wounded Indian who reported that the fighting had begun. Seven Frenchmen and
twenty-three savages had crossed the river on a jam of driftwood and found
themselves face to face with about two hundred and fifty Sauks and Foxes.
Determined to sell their lives as dearly as possible, they fought so fiercely
that the enemy took refuge in the woods. The victory was brief, however, for
their adversaries soon pressed forward to surround them. De Noyelles, having
crossed the river, dispatched all of the men who were with him as
reinforcements. Half an hour later the captain himself deployed what forces had
joined him in the meantime and advanced to the combat.
For several hours the battle raged savagely. One
of the French officers was mortally wounded. Toward night the Foxes attempted
to scalp some of the wounded Iroquois, whereupon De Noyelles ordered a retreat
and divided his force into two bands - one to continue the fighting while the
other constructed fortifications where they could protect the wounded and defend
themselves. Meanwhile, the Kiekapoos had quietly watched the struggle from an
eminence, waiting to join the victorious side.
During the night the disgruntled Iroquois
established communication with the Sauks, and on the following morning they sent
for De Noyelles to come to a council of war. He went "without any hesitation".
At the meeting he found some Sauks whom he tried to persuade to abandon the
Foxes and return to Green Bay, but the Sauks hesitated to surrender for they
feared the French would not be able to control their Iroquois allies who, when
the friends of the Sauks were at a distance, would "put them in the Kettle". To
this De Noyelles replied that the Sauks had nothing to fear because if the
Iroquois wished to act treacherously he would oppose it and, though the French
were a few in number, the Iroquois "would not play" with them. But the Sauks
were still skeptical, and well they might be. In truth, the Iroquois held the
power of Captain de Noyelles in such utter contempt that they openly beat French
soldiers in his presence and he, to maintain a semblance of authority, was
compelled to pretend not to see it. Another obstacle prevented the Sauks from
joining the French. The weather was too cold for their women and children to
travel.
If the Sauks really had any desire to make peace
with the French, the Foxes promptly suppressed it. The next day they sent word
that their Renard allies had declared, "Dogs that ye are, if you abandon us, we
will eat your women and children as soon as you have gone out. We will fight
against you and afterward against the French."
For four days the French in their temporary
fortifications faced the Sauk and Fox village on the Des Moines River. Neither
party made any move against the other. The invaders suffered severely from
hunger, for during all that time they had nothing to eat but twelve dogs and a
horse. Some of the soldiers ate their moccasins. When De Noyelles requested
the Iroquois to send a party of braves to hunt, they blusteringly replied that
the whole company must fast four or five days longer. A little later they asked
to be allowed to go home. The soldiers begged their commander to lead them to
the assault, for they preferred death in battle to the slow torture of
starvation.
Convinced that his men could not hold out any
longer, Captain de Noyelles sent a token of peace to the Sauks with the message
that their father, the Governor of Quebec, would grant them their lives on
condition that they terminate their alliance with the Foxes. This they agreed
to do - as they had promised several times before. Obliged to be content with
an empty promise that was never fulfilled, the French troops marched away down
the river to old Fort Chartres and never again returned to the borders of Iowa.
JOHN ELY BRIGGS
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