University of Virginia Library

LA BUTTE DES MORTS.[77]

La Butte des Morts is, as its name implies,
a little hill at the confluence of the Fox and Wolf
rivers, and in the angle between them. From its
summit the voyageur may have a view of the lake
of Graise d'Ours to the east, and of a long reach
of the Fox River, and many a rood of fat prairie
land to the westward. When he is tired of beholding
the prospect, he may descend to the water
side, and amuse himself by shooting at the blue
winged teal, the most delicious of the feathered
creation, as they fly past him in myriads. He
will do well not to fire if they fly high, for they
are fattened on the wild rice of the river, and

usually burst open on falling. Or if he is given to
moralizing, he may go to the field between the hill
and the woods, and speculate on the bones that
have been whitening there for more than the age
of man.

The last time the author was on the spot, a pit
had just been dug on the top of the hillock, and
in it were put, with shrieks and howling, the remains
of a noted Winnebago brave, whose war
cry had been heard at Tippecanoe and the battle
of the Thames. At the head of the grave was
planted a cedar post, on which the rude heraldry
of the natives had emblazoned the rank and
achievements of the deceased. Three black emblems
represented three American scalps. Let
us be forgiven, reader, for dwelling on the place.
Silent and solitary as it now is, it is the scene of
events that mayhap it will please thee to hear related.
Alas, that strife and slaughter, and the
extermination of a native tribe should be pleasant
things for us to write, or for thee to read.

About the year seventeen hundred and twen-tyfive,
the principal village of the Saque nation
stood on the Butte des Morts. Here the Saques
were accustomed to stop traders passing into the
Indian country, and to exact of them a tribute; as
the Winnebagoes have since done. The traders
submitted with reluctance; but there was no help.

At last, emboldened by impunity, the savages increased
their demands; so that a total cessation of
the trade was likely to ensue; and bickerings
arose between the plunderers and the plundered.
In the autumn of seventeen hundred and twenty-four
a hot headed young Canadian trader refused
to pay the customary tribute, and severely wounded
a Saque who attempted to take it forcibly.
He was instantly shot dead and scalped, and his
boat was pillaged. Some accounts say that his
men were killed too, but this part of the story,
though probable, is not certain. As no notice of
the affair was taken that winter by the authorities
commissioned by the Grand Monarque the insolence
of the Saques increased greatly, and they
imagined in their ignorance that the French stood
in fear of them. But in this they reckoned without
their host, or rather without Jean St Denis
Moran.

The Sieur Moran, a man of a decided and energetic
character, held an office in the French
Indian Department. He was, moreover, an old
campaigner and had been at Friedlingen and
Malplaquet. When tidings of what had happened
were communicated to him at Quebec, his mustachios
twisted upward for very anger, and he
swore, sachristie! and mort de sa vie! that the
Saques should repent their presumption. In order
to the fulfilment of this laudable vow, he demanded
of the commanding officer at Quebec
that three hundred regulars should be placed at
his disposal, and the request was granted. With
these troops he proceeded to Michilimacinac,

where he remained till the first of October, to mature
his plans.

Here he caused eight or ten Macinac boats to
be constructed. For fear that some of our readers
may not know what a Macinac boat is, we
will try to inform them. It is a large, strong built,
flat bottomed boat, pointed at both ends, and peculiarly
adapted to the Indian trade; in which it
is often necessary to ascend and descend dangerous
rapids. It is always furnished with a parlas,
or sheet of painted canvass, large enough to protect
the lading from the weather. But this equipage
was never used for the purpose for which
the Sieur Moran designed it before nor since.

Furthermore, he provided many kegs of French
brandy, and all things being in readiness, proceeded
from island to island across the head of
Lake Michigan to Green Bay. Here he might
have speculated on the phenomenon of a tide in
fresh water, as Mr Schoolcraft and other learned
philosophers have done; but different matters
occupied his mind. He encamped, and sent a
messenger to the Hillock of the Dead to require
the instant surrender of all persons concerned in
the late breach of the peace, as well as reparation
for all robberies and injuries committed by the
offending tribe. The Saque chief laughed the
summons to scorn. `Tell our father,' said he,
`that the Saques are men. Tell him too, that
even if he should in earnest be disposed to punish
his children, they have legs to take them out of
the way, if he should prove too hard for them.'
Having made this lofty speech, he looked round

with much self-complacency, and when the concurrence
of the audience had been signified, he
added, `I am a wise man.' Had he foreseen the
consequences of his words, it is probable his opinion
of his own wisdom would have suffered some
diminution.

He smoked a pipe with the disconcerted envoy,
gave him to eat, and desired him to make the best
of his way back to whence he came.

On receiving this answer, M. Moran convened
a band of Menomenies that had encamped in the
vicinity, and whose chief, unless tradition deceives
us, was called Auskinnawwawwitsh. To him the
old soldier communicated his intention of bringing
the Saques to condign punishment, and requested
his assistance. `Father,' replied Auskinnawwawwitsh,
`what you say is good. You are
a wise man. We have wished to see you a great
while, because we are very poor, and we know
that you are rich. We have few guns, and no
ammunition or tobacco, and our women have no
clothing. Above all, we want a little of your
milk,[78] to make us weep for our deceased relations.
[61] So kind a father will give us all these
things. But wisdom requires that we should deliberate
on your proposal. Father, a little of your
milk will brighten our understandings.' And to
all these sayings the inferior Menomenies assented
with a grunt, or groan of applause, for it might
be called either.

M. Moran was obliged to acknowledge the justice

of these axioms. He supplied the immediate
wants of the savages, and gave them a keg of
brandy. The consequence was, a frightful riot
of three days duration, in which three of the intended
allies were killed. Auskinnawwawwitsh
required a further delay of three days, `to cry for
the slain;' and he even suggested that a little
more milk would make the tears flow faster, and
more readily. To this hint, M. Moran returned
a peremptory refusal. In the mean while, the
crafty Menomenie sent to the Saques a warning
of their danger; but they persisted in believing
that they would not be attacked, and that they
should be able to defend themselves if they were.

After the mourning had terminated, Auskinnawwawwitsh
announced the result of his deliberations.
`If my father,' said he, `will give us the
land the Saques now live upon, and if he will
make us a handsome present, and if he will give
us more of his milk, we will assist him.' To all
which postulates the Sieur Moran agreed, only
stipulating that the payment should take place after
the work was done.

M. Moran told the Menomenies that he should
want them after two sleeps, [62] and dismissed
them. Then he loaded one of his boats with merchandize,
not forgetting a goodly quantity of brandy,
and gave her in charge to a non-commissioned
officer and four Canadian boatmen. They received
his instructions to ascend the river to the
Butte des Morts, and there suffer the boat to be
pillaged without resistance or remonstrance. They

were then to proceed a few miles further, encamp,
and wait for further orders.

His orders were obeyed to the letter. The
Saques plundered the boat, and drinking the
brandy, were soon in no condition for attack or
defence. Now was the time for Moran to act,
and fearfully did he avail himself of it.

A mile below the Hillock of the Dead, and on
the same side of the river, is a stream, just wide
enough to allow a Macinac boat to enter, a few
rods. To this the Sieur Moran succeeded in
getting, at noon, the day after his advanced boat
had passed. Here, out of sight of the village, he
landed his Menomenies and half of his soldiers.
He ordered them to gain the woods in the rear of
the Saques, and there wait till the firing commenced
in front. When sufficient time had elapsed
for his orders to be obeyed, the remaining
troops couched in the bottoms of the boats, with
their arms ready, and were covered with the canvass
before mentioned. This done, he put off,
and the crews, disguised like boatmen, rowed up
the river, singing this ditty, which is still popular
in the North-west.

They were soon within ken of the village. The
Saques, not expecting the entertainment prepared
for them, rejoiced at the sight. They were all
drunk, or at least, suffering the effects of intoxication.
`Here come the traders to supply us with
fire water and blankets,' they said to each other;
`Let us make haste to the spoil.' The women
screamed with delight, the children bawled in
concert, and the host of dogs added to the uproar.
Young and old hurried to the water side.

As the foremost boat came opposite the crowd
of dark forms on shore, a dozen balls were fired
athwart her course. None struck her, but the
proximity was sufficiently intimate to show that
her further progress would be attended with danger.
[63] `Scie, scie partout,' cried the frightened
steersman, and the rowers backed water simultaneously.
M. Moran rose, and commanded the
interpreter to ask what they wanted. `Skootay
wawbo, skootay wawbo,' (fire water) shouted five
hundred voices. `Shore,' said Moran, and as
the other boats were now alongside, they all
touched the ground together.

`I let you all know, that if you touch anything
in the boats, you will be sorry for it,' cried the interpreter.
But an hundred hands were already
dragging them farther aground, and his voice was
drowned by the clamor. `Help! help! thieves!
thieves!' cried Moran, in a full deep tone. At
once the coverings were thrown off, and an hundred
and fifty soldiers were brought to view, as if
by the spell of an enchanter. `Fire!' cried Moran.
The muskets flashed, and twenty Saques

fell dead where they stood. To the poor misguided
savages, the number of their enemies
seemed treble the reality. They fled precipitately
to their village, to prepare for defence.
Two minutes sufficed for the troops to form and
pursue.

The Saques found at their lodges another and
more terrible enemy than the French. A Menomenie
had entered the place unsuspected, and set
it on fire on the windward side. [64] The wind was
high, and in a few moments the frail bark dwellings
were wrapped in a sheet of flame. The
Saques then retreated toward the woods in the
rear, one and all. Ere they were reached, Moran's
reserve met them, and they were placed between
two fires. Then burst forth one heart-rending,
agonized shriek; and the devoted Saques
prepared to defend themselves with the courage
of despair. Ball and bayonet now began their
bloody work. The victims were hemmed in on
every side. The Menomenies precluded the possibility
of escape on the flanks, and the knife and
glittering tomakawk cut off what the sword had
spared. The inhabitants of the village fought
with unshrinking courage. Few asked quarter;
none received it. They perished, man, woman,
and child. The horrors of the dreadful tragedy
may not be repeated, yet in less than an hour it
had been enacted, and the actors were gone. A
heap of smoking ruins, and a few houseless dogs,
howling after the dead bodies of their masters,
were the only objects the sad hillock presented.
But five Saque families, that had been absent at

the time, survived the slaughter; the poor remains
of what had been a considerable tribe. They left
their country, and emigrated to the Mississippi,
where they incorporated with the Foxes, and
where their descendants remain to this day.

It is due to the Sieur Moran to say, that he did
all he might to mitigate the fate of his victims.
But his voice was exerted in vain. Victorious
troops are seldom merciful in the field, and the
Menomenies would not be restrained. There was
no room for rapine, for there was nothing to take;
but Lust, and red handed Murder, stalked openly
over the Butte des Morts on that day. From this
carnage of the Saques it derived its name.

That evening, Auskinnawwawwitsh appeared
before the Sieur Moran, and demanded the promised
recompense. `Let what you have seen be
a warning to you,' said the leader. `If your people,
now masters of the soil, offend in the same
sort, be assured, they shall drink of the same cup
that the Saques have drained.'