The Conquest: The True Story of Lewis and Clark

  XVII

  _THE GREAT COUNCIL AT PRAIRIE DU CHIEN_

  St. Louis was a cold place in those prairie years; a great deal ofsnow fell, and sleighbells rang beside the Great River. No Indianscame during the cold weather, but with the springing grass andblossoming trees, each year the Indians camped around the twin lakesat Maracasta, Clark's farm west of St. Louis.

  There were wigwams all over Maracasta. James Kennerly, Clark's Indiandeputy, busy ever with the ruddy aborigines, dealing out annuities,arranging for treaties and instructing the tribes, kept open house forthe chiefs at _Cote Plaquemine_, the Persimmon Hill. Clark's boys shotbows and arrows with the little Indians, Kennerly's little girls madethem presents of "kinnikinick," dried leaves of the sumac and redosier dogwood, to smoke in their long pipes.

  Every delegation came down laden with gifts for the Red Head,--costlyfurs, buffalo robes, bows, arrows, pipes, moccasins.

  Tragedies of the plains came daily to the ears of General Clark, far,far beyond the reach of government in the wild battle-ground of theWest.

  In 1822 the Sioux and Cheyennes combined against the Crows and fellupon their villages. In the slaughter of that day five thousanddefenceless men, women, and children were butchered on the prairie.All their lodges and herds of horses and hundreds of captive girlswere carried away. As a people the Crows never recovered.

  Drunk with victory the triumphant Sioux rolled back on the Chippewas,Sacs, Foxes, and Iowas.

  "If continued, these wars will embroil all the tribes of the West,"said Clark. "We must do something more to promote peace. They mustbecome civilised."

  President Monroe was working up a new Indian policy, with Clark as achief adviser.

  "Go, Paul Louise, take this talk to my Osages. I am coming up to theircountry. Tell them to meet me on the first of June."

  In his canoe, with his squaw and his babies, the wizened littleFrenchman set out. He could not read, he could not write, he couldonly make his mark, but the Indians loved and trusted Paul Louise.

  "And you, Baronet Vasquez, take this to the Kansas nation."

  Vasquez belonged to the old Spanish _regime_. As a youth he had goneout with the Spanish garrison at the cession of St. Louis, to return afur trader.

  Then came Lafayette from the memories of Monticello. Escorted by atroop of horse, he had ascended that historic mountain. The alertlithe figure of the little Marquis leaped from the carriage; at thesame moment the door opened, revealing the tall, bent, wasted figureof Jefferson in the pillared portico. The music ceased, and every headuncovered. Slowly the aged Jefferson descended the steps, slowly thelittle Marquis approached his friend, then crying, with outstretchedarms, "Ah, Jefferson!" "Ah, Lafayette!" each fell upon the other'sbosom. The gentlemen of the cavalcade turned away with tears, and thetwo were left to solitude and recollection.

  Long and often had Jefferson and Lafayette laboured together inanxious and critical periods of the past. It was in chasing "the boy"Lafayette that the British came to Charlottesville. When Jefferson wasminister in Paris, the young and popular nobleman assisted theunaccustomed American at the Court of France. Together they had seenthe opening of the French Revolution. What memories came back as theysat in the parlour at Monticello, discussing the momentous events oftwo continents in which they had been actors!

  "What would I have done with the Queen?" asked the aged Jefferson. "Ishould have shut her up in a convent, putting harm out of her power. Ihave ever believed if there had been no Queen there would have been noFrench Revolution."

  Lafayette went to Montpelier to see Madison, and then to Yorktown,over the same road which he himself had opened in 1781 in the retreatbefore Cornwallis. One long ovation followed his route. Even oldladies who had seen him in their youth pressed forward with the plea,"Let me see the young Marquis again!" forgetful of the flight ofyears. Echoes of his triumphal tour had reached the border. St. Louis,a city and a State not dreamed of in Revolutionary days, begged thehonour of entertaining Lafayette.

  Far down the river they saw the smoke of his steamer, coming up fromNew Orleans.

  "Welcome!" the hills echoed. "_Vive_ Lafayette!"

  The Marquis lifted his eyes,--white stone houses gay with gardens andclusters of verdure arose before him in a town of five thousandinhabitants. Below stood the massive stone forts of the Spanish time,and on the brow of the bluff frowned the old round tower, the lastfading relic of feudalism in North America.

  Every eye was fixed upon the honoured guest. A few were there whocould recall the pride of Lafayette in his American troops, with theirhelmets and flowing crests and the sabres he himself had brought fromFrance. The banquet, the toasts, the ball, all these have passed intotradition.

  The Marquis visited Clark's cabinet of Indian curios.

  "I present you this historic cloak of an Indian chief," said theGeneral, offering a robe like a Russian great coat.

  In turn, Lafayette presented his mess chest, carried through theRevolution, and placed on the Governor's finger a ring of his hair.Later Clark sent him the live cub of a grizzly bear, that grew to be awonder in the Jardin des Plantes of Paris.

  "And your great brother, George Rogers Clark?" inquired the Marquis.

  "He died seven years ago at Louisville," answered the Governor.

  "In securing the liberties of this country I esteem him second only toWashington," said Lafayette.

  "Those thieving Osages have taken six more of my horses," complainedChouteau the next morning at the office of Governor Clark.

  "And four blankets and three axes of me," added Baptiste Dardenne.

  "Worse yet, they have stolen my great-coat and razor case," saidManuel Roderique.

  Two thousand dollars' worth of claims were paid in that summer of1825.

  "We must get them out of the way," persisted the exasperated whites.

  "Acts and acts of Congress regulating trade and intercourse with thetribes are of no avail. They must be removed, and as far as possible.They are banditti, robbers!" said Benton.

  In spite of all proclamations clothes disappeared from the line, silkstockings and bed-quilts and ladies' hats mysteriously went into thewigwams of the vagrants.

  "This state of affairs is intolerable!" exclaimed Benton. "GovernorClark, if you will conclude a treaty removing those tribes to the WestI will stake my honour on putting a ratification through Congress.I'll present the case!"

  Again the great senator ground out the words between his teeth, "_I'llpresent the case_. It will be a kindness to both parties. The poorIndians have lost all,--we must reimburse them, we must take care ofthem, they must have a home,--but far away, _far away_!" shaking hisfingers and closing his eyes with the significant shrug so well knownto the friends of Colonel Benton.

  "Not so bad as eet once was," urged the kind-hearted Creoles. "Not sobad by far. In de old Spanish days dey once left St. Genevieve wit'outa horse to turn a mill. Dey came in to de village in de night andcarried away everyt'ing dey could find. Nobody ever pursue dem. But_les Americains_, dey chase dem. But den," commented the tolerantCreoles, "de Osage do not _kill_, like de Kickapoo and de Cherokee.Dey take de goods, steal de furs, beat with ramrods, drive himoff,--but dey don't _kill_!"

  So in May, after the departure of Lafayette, Governor Clark steamed upthe Missouri, met the Kansas and Osage Indians, and made treaties forthe cession of all their lands within the present boundary ofMissouri.

  "You shall have lands, hogs, fowls, cattle, carts, and farming toolsto settle farther west."

  This was wealth to the poor Osages, whose hunting fields had becomeexhausted.

  "Go to the earth and till it, it will give you bread and meat andclothes and comfort and happiness. You may talk about your povertyalways, and it will never make you better off. You must beindustrious," said Clark. "And your old friend, Boone, shall be yourfarmer."

  For almost forty years now they had known Daniel M. Boone, the son ofthe great pioneer,--since, indeed, those days when as a boy ofeighteen he trapped on the Kansa
s. Two springs later the removal wasmade, and Boone, as "farmer for the Kansas Indians," took up hisresidence in the Kaw Valley where his chimney stacks may yet be seennear the present Lecompton. The next year was born Napoleon Boone, thefirst white child in Kansas.

  All this time the northern clans were gathering at Prairie du Chien, awork of months. June 30 Governor Clark's barge started north from St.Louis, laden with presents, provisions, interpreters.

  "We are afraid to come," said the Omahas. "We are afraid to cross thehostile territory."

  William Preston Clark, in looks and dress the blonde double of thepoet Byron, said, "Let me bring them, father."

  So young Clark, intimate with Indians, went after the Omahas andbrought them safely in. But Big Elk left his medal with his son, "Inever expect to reach home alive," he said. "We cross the country ofthe Sacs!"

  The Yanktons refused. "Shall we be butchered by the Sacs?" But laterthey came to St. Louis, smoked with the Sacs and shook hands. Even theSioux feared the Sacs, the warriors of the central valley.

  Mahaska, head chief of the Iowas, with his braves went up with Clark,and Rant-che-wai-me, the Flying Pigeon. Rant-che-wai-me had been toWashington. A year ago, when her husband left her alone at the wigwamon the Des Moines, she set out for St. Louis. The steamer was at theshore, the chief was about to embark, when he felt a blow upon hisback. Shaking his plumes in wrath, Mahaska turned,--to behold theFlying Pigeon, with uplifted tomahawk in her hand.

  "Am I your wife?" she cried.

  "You are my wife," answered the surprised chief.

  "Are you my husband?"

  "I am your husband."

  "Then will I, too, go with you to shake the Great Father by the hand."

  Mahaska smiled,--"You are my pretty wife, Flying Pigeon; you shall goto Washington." Clark, too, smiled,--"Yes, she can go."

  The pretty Rant-che-wai-me was feted at the White House, and had herpicture painted by a great artist as a typical Iowa Princess. And nowshe was going to Prairie du Chien.

  Not for ten years had Clark visited his northern territory. Fewchanges had come on the Mississippi. Twice a year Colonel GeorgeDavenport brought a hundred thousand dollars' worth of goods to histrading post at Rock Island.

  Beyond, Julien Dubuque lay in perpetual state on his hills, wrappedonly in a winding sheet in his tomb, exposed to the view of everytraveller that cared to climb the grassy height to gaze through thegrated windows of his lonely mausoleum.

  "The Great Chief, the Red Head is coming," whispered all the Indians,as Clark's barges hove in sight.

  Prairie du Chien was alive with excitement. Governor Cass of Michiganwas already there. Not only the village, but the entire banks of theriver for miles above and below were covered with high-pointed buffalotents. Horses browsed upon the bluffs in Arabian abandon. Below, talland warlike, Chippewas and Winnebagoes from Superior and the valley ofSt. Croix jostled Menomonees, Pottawattamies, and Ottawas from LakeMichigan and Green Bay.

  "Whoop-oh-hoo-oh!"

  Major Taliferro from the Falls of St. Anthony made the grand entrywith his Sioux and Chippewas, four hundred strong, drums beating,flags flying. Taliferro was very popular with the Sioux,--even thesquaws said he was "_Weechashtah Washtay_,"--a handsome man.

  Over from Sault Ste. Marie the learned agent Schoolcraft had broughtone hundred and fifty Chippewas, brothers of Hiawatha.

  Keokuk, the Watchful Fox, with his Sacs and Iowas, was the last toarrive. Leagued against the Sioux, they had camped on an island belowto paint and dress, and came up the Mississippi attired in full warcostume singing their battle-song. It was a thrilling sight when theycame upon the scene with spears, battle-lances, and crested locks likeRoman helmets, casting bitter glances at their ancient foe, the Sioux.Nearly nude, with feather war-flags flying, and beating tambourines,the Sacs landed in compact ranks, breathing defiance. From hisearliest youth Keokuk had fought the Sioux.

  "Bold, martial, flushed with success, Keokuk landed, majestic andfrowning," said Schoolcraft, "and as another Coriolanus spoke in thecouncil and shook his war lance at the Sioux."

  At the signal of a gun, every day at ten o'clock, the chiefsassembled.

  "Children," said Governor Clark to the assembled savages, "your GreatFather has not sent us here to ask anything from you--we wantnothing--not the smallest piece of your land. We have come a great wayto meet for your own good. Your Great Father the President has beeninformed that war is carried on among his red children,--the Sacs,Foxes, and Chippewas on one side and the Sioux on the other,--and thatthe wars of some of you began before any of you were born."

  "Heigh! heigh!" broke forth the silent smokers. "Heigh! heigh!"exclaimed the warriors. "Heigh! heigh!" echoed the vast and impatientconcourse around the council.

  "Your father thinks there is no cause for continuation of war betweenyou. There is land enough for you to live and hunt on and animalsenough. Why, instead of peaceably following the game and providing foryour families, do you send out war parties to destroy each other? TheGreat Spirit made you all of one colour and placed you upon the land.You ought to live in peace as brothers of one great family. Your GreatFather has heard of your war songs and war parties,--they do notplease him. He desires that his red children should bury thetomahawk."

  "Heigh! heigh!"

  "Children! look around you. See the result of wars between nations whowere once powerful and are now reduced to a few wandering families.You have examples enough before you.

  "Children, your wars have resulted from your having no definiteboundaries. You do not know what belongs to you, and your peoplefollow the game into lands claimed by other tribes."

  "Heigh! heigh!"

  "Children, you have all assembled under your Father's flag. You areunder his protection. Blood must not be spilt here. Whoever injuresone of you injures us, and we will punish him as we would punish oneof our own people."

  "Heigh! heigh! heigh!" cried all the Indians.

  "Children," said General Cass, "your Great Father does not want yourland. He wants to establish boundaries and peace among you. Your GreatFather has strong limbs and a piercing eye, and an arm that extendsfrom the sea to Red River.

  "Children, you are hungry. We will adjourn for two hours."

  "Heigh! heigh! heigh-h!" rolled the chorus across the Prairie.

  As to an army, rations were distributed, beef, bread, corn, salt,sugar, tobacco. Each ate, ate, ate,--till not a scrap was left to feeda humming-bird.

  Revered of his people, Wabasha and his pipe-bearers were the observedof all.

  "I never yet was present at so great a council as this," said Wabasha.Three thousand were at Prairie du Chien.

  The Sioux? Far from the northwest they said their fathers came,--theTartar cheek was theirs. Wabasha and his chiefs alone had theCaucasian countenance.

  Three mighty brothers ruled the Sioux in the days ofPontiac,--Wabasha, Red Wing, and Little Crow. Their sons, Wabasha, RedWing, and Little Crow ruled still.

  "Boundaries?" they knew not the meaning of the word. Restless,anxious, sharp-featured Little Crow fixed his piercing hazel eye uponthe Red Head,--

  "_Taku-wakan!_--that is incomprehensible!"

  "Heigh! What does this mean?" exclaimed the Chippewas.

  "We are all one people," sagely observed Mahaska, the Iowa. "Myfather, I claim no lands in particular."

  "I never yet heard that any one had any exclusive right to the soil,"said Chambler, the Ottawa.

  "I have a tract of country. It is where I was born and now live," saidRed Bird, the Winnebago. "But the Foxes claim it and the Sacs, theMenomonees, and Omahas. We use it in common."

  Red Bird was a handsome Indian, dressed Yankton fashion in whiteunsoiled deerskin and scarlet, and glove-fitting moccasins,--the dandyof his tribe.

  The debate grew animated. "Our tract is so small," cried theMenomonees, "that we cannot turn around without touching ourneighbours." Then every Indian began to describe his boundaries,crossing and recrossing each other.

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sp; "These are the causes of all your troubles," said Clark. "It is betterfor each of you to give up some disputed claim than to be fighting forever about it."

  That night the parties two by two discussed their lines, the firststep towards civilisation. They drew maps on the ground,--"my huntingground," and "mine," and "mine." After days of study the boundaryrivers were acknowledged, the belt of wampum was passed, and the pipeof peace.

  Wabasha, acknowledged by every chief to be first of the Seven Fires ofthe Sioux, was treated by all with marked distinction and deference.And yet Wabasha, dignified and of superior understanding, when asked,"Wabasha? What arrangement did you make with the Foxes aboutboundaries?" replied, "I never made any arrangement about the line.The only arrangement I made was about peace!"

  "When I heard the voice of my Great Father," said Mongazid, the Loon'sFoot, from Fond du Lac, "when I heard the voice of my Father coming upthe Mississippi, calling to this treaty, it seemed as a murmuringwind. I got up from my mat where I sat musing, and hastened to obey.My pathway has been clear and bright. Truly it is a pleasant sky aboveour heads this day. There is not a cloud to darken it. I hear nothingbut pleasant words. The raven is not waiting for his prey. I hear noeagle cry, 'Come, let us go,--the feast is ready,--the Indian haskilled his brother.'"

  Shingaba Wassin of Sault Ste. Marie, head chief of the Chippewas, hadfought with Britain in the War of 1812 and lost a brother at thebattle of the Thames. He and a hundred other chiefs with their pipebearers signed the treaty. Everybody signed. And all sang, even thegirls, the Witcheannas of the Sioux.

  "We have buried our bad thoughts in the ashes of the pipe," saidLittle Crow.

  "I always had good counsel from Governor Clark," observed Red Wing.

  "You put this medal on my neck in 1812," said Decorah, the Winnebago,"and when I returned I gave good advice to the young men of ourvillage."

  After a fierce controversy and the rankling of a hundred wrongs, thewarring tribes laid down their lances and buried the tomahawk. Sacsand Sioux shook hands; the dividing lines were fixed; all the chiefssigned, and the tribes were at peace for the first time in a thousandyears.

  "Pray God it may last," said Clark, as his boat went away homewardalong with the Sacs down the Mississippi.

  The great Council at Prairie du Chien was over.