CAMPAIGN AGAINST THE CHICKASAWS

Never felt one surer of success than Bienville when he took up afresh his expedition against the Chickasaws. By prearrangement, D'Artaguette was to descend from the Illinois region, and meet him near the stronghold of the Chickasaws and aid him in their subjection. Of ardent temperament, Bienville was easily made overconfident, and yet he had but little on which to rely. Save the veterans of the command, he had little else.

The motley horde that had enlisted under his banner at Mobile, was not worthy of trust in an emergency, nor did he know how far he could depend on his Indian allies, for Red Shoes hated the white man, only he hated the Chickasaws the more. He was going not so much in aid of the French, as he was to punish the Chickasaws. This made his influence a doubtful quality, and that influence was great with the Choctaws. But if Bienville could have the command of D'Artaguette to aid him, which was destined not to be, he could possibly succeed, though the Chickasaws were the fiercest fighters among the tribes, and they had among them English officers, who were training them for the coming attack.

The command was again ready to move, but the keen edge of the novelty and enthusiasm was now blunted, on the part of at least a large contingent of the command, which was going simply because they had to go. The scene was a peculiar one, as the boats were ranged along the bank of the river at Fort Tombeckbe. With refreshing complacency, the French took possession of the boats, Simon and his seventy-five black followers owned their crafts, and the Canadians and Indian allies were left to make their way, as best they could, along the river to the point where all were to unite to go against the Chickasaws.

On May 22, 1736, they reached the region where Cotton Gin Port, Mississippi, now is, where Bienville built a temporary fort which he named Fort Oltibia, and after securing his stores, locking his boats to the trees, and appointing a guard to protect them, he started with twelve days' rations to the Chickasaws' stronghold, still twenty-seven miles in the interior.

It was a rainy season, the prairie mud was deep, the inland streams were up, the country a tangled region of underbrush, the banks of the streams slippery with lime mud, and most of the host already demoralized. They started inland, the men sometimes being forced at times to wade waist deep in crossing the streams, the march was slow and laborious, and the prospect grew dimmer with decreasing enthusiasm, as they proceeded. There was straggling not a little, but from more of this Bienville was saved, by reason of the fact that they were in the enemy's country, and a sense of common interest welded them together. They marched past fortified villages of the Chickasaws, which villages Bienville disregarded, but he found it next to impossible to restrain the Choctaws, in their hatred of the Chickasaws from attacking these. One fortified village, Schouafalay, the Choctaws did attack, much against the judgment of Bienville.

There was partial relief afforded the troops when they emerged from the tangled wilderness and reached the open prairie. Here was an abundance of game, of much of which the troops availed themselves, while they were cheered not a little by the patches of ripe strawberries growing in wildness on the plain, and by the unbroken green of the prairie dashed here and there by patches of beautiful blossoms.

They were now within six miles of the object of attack. Here it was proposed that the commands of Bienville and of D'Artaguette were to unite, but the latter failed to appear. The scouts sent on in advance by Bienville, reported that they could not find D'Artaguette and could learn nothing of his whereabouts. This was a sore disappointment to Bienville, for he had counted much on D'Artaguette and his veterans, but he could not now stop. He still had about one thousand five hundred in his command, and he was confident of success.

Bienville's plan was to pa.s.s around Ackia, where the Chickasaws were strongly fortified, and proceed to the town of Natchez, overthrow the Indians there, and by that means inspire the troops, and at the same time demoralize the Chickasaws. In a council of officers now called, he advocated this plan, but the Choctaw leaders would not listen to a proposal like this. They wanted to attack the Chickasaws outright, crush them, and then quietly return. Some of the French officers concurred in the proposed policy of the Choctaws, while not a few coincided with Bienville. The Choctaws seemed almost uncontrollable in their frantic desire to reach the Chickasaws. To have heard them rave, one would have thought that there was little use of the French in the expedition, at all.

Nothing was now left but to traverse the remaining six miles, and give battle to the waiting Chickasaws. The line of march was again taken up, and another half day brought them within full view of the battlements of the enemy. The conditions were not such as to occasion much inspiration.

The fortifications were imposing, and seemed sufficiently strong to resist any force.

On an eminence stood the fort of heavy logs. Around it were palisades with port holes just above the ground, while just within the palisades was a trench, in which the defenders would stand, rest their guns within the port holes, and fire with ease on the plain below without the slightest exposure of their bodies. Outside the palisades were a number of strongly fortified structures or cabins. The fort itself was of triangular shape, with the roof of heavy green logs, overlaid with a thick stratum of dried mud, a double security against fire, should the French undertake the use of combustibles. The imposing fortifications had a disheartening effect even on the officers of the French troops, and much more the men.

A careful inspection was made, and there was nothing left but to plan for the attack. The French were to open the battle, and the Choctaws were left to attack as they might wish. The Indians occupied a camp some distance from the others, and proceeded to paint and to deck themselves for battle. They stood in readiness, as though waiting for the battle to open.

All plans were gotten in readiness, and at two o'clock in the afternoon the fight was to begin by regular a.s.sault from the outset.

BATTLE OF ACKIA

At two o'clock on the afternoon of May 26, 1736, the battle of Ackia was opened by Chevalier Noyan, who, as his troops advanced within carbine shot of the fort, could easily see English officers within the palisades directing the defense.

The French were moving to the attack in the open, without personal shields, which were too heavy to be brought so great a distance, and they had to resort to portable breastworks made of heavy ropes, closely woven together in strips of about four feet in width and about twenty feet in length. This wide strip of roping had to be borne at either end by strong men, who were of course exposed, while the firing line was somewhat protected. These mantelets, for such the movable fortifications were called, were carried by negroes, whom the French forced into this perilous service. A broadside of musketry was opened on the fort, in response to which the garrison vigorously replied, and among the casualties was that of killing one of the negroes, while another was wounded, whereupon every black man who was supporting the mantelets threw them down and fled the field. Without a waver in their line, the French pressed on to the attack.

The grenadiers led the advance and moved on into the outside village. The battle was now on in earnest, and one of the ablest of the French commanders, Chevalier de Contre Coeur, was killed, together with a number of grenadiers, but the fortified cabins were taken without, as well as some smaller ones, to the latter of which fire was applied. This quick advantage gained, led to an enthusiastic determination to carry the fort by a.s.sault. Noyan, at the head of his troops, saw the advantage and was ready to lead the charge. With sword upraised, he commanded the advance, but on looking back he found that all the troops, save a mere handful, had fled back to the fortified cabins, leaving the officers. The enemy taking advantage of this juncture, fired more vigorously still, and another of the brave commanders, Captain DeLusser, the same who commanded at Fort Tombecke, fell. The officers bringing up the rear urged, besought, exhorted the troops who had sought shelter in the cabins to rejoin their officers, but to no purpose. They were promised the reward of promotion, but that did not avail. Finally the officers sought to appeal to their pride by proposing to take such as would follow and themselves make the a.s.sault, to all of which the troops were agreed, but they did not propose to face again the galling fire of the Chickasaws. Suiting the action to the word, the officers proceeded to the a.s.sault, for which they paid severely, for every prominent leader was shot down wounded--Noyan, Grondel, Montburn and De Velles. Though bleeding and suffering, Noyan supported himself and, much exposed, held his ground with a remnant of troops. Hoping to elicit those from the cabins, he ordered an aide to request the secreted troops to come to his rescue, as he was wounded. As the officer turned to obey, he was shot dead.

The a.s.sault had been carried to within a short distance of the main walls where the officers lay bleeding from their wounds, the foremost of whom was the gallant Grondel. A number of Indian warriors issued from the fort to scalp him, on observing which a sergeant with four men rushed to his rescue, drove the Indians back into the fort, and raised his body to bear it off the field. Just as they started, every rescuer was killed. A stalwart Frenchman named Regnisse, seeing what had happened, dashed toward the body alone, under a galling fire, lifted the wounded man to his back and bore him off, though not without the receipt of another wound by Grondel.

Meanwhile, where were the courageous Choctaws who were so eager for the fray and who were the chief cause of bringing on the fight? While the French were exposed to a raking fire, these six hundred painted warriors remained at a safe distance on the plain, giving frequent vent to shouting and shrieking and yelling, interspersed now and then with dancing, and shooting into the air. This was the utmost of the service rendered by the Choctaw allies.

Though with a courageous few, Noyan had come under the shadow of the walls of the fort, he could do no more unsupported, and so proceeded to return, in order, to the fortified cabins, where he found his men crouching in fear, when he at once notified Bienville of the peril of the situation. He asked for a detachment to bear off the dead and wounded, and notified the governor that without troops to support him, nothing more could be done to capture the fort.

At this juncture, Bienville saw a demonstration made on the part of the savages in the fort, from an unconjectured quarter, to capture the cabins in which were gathered the men and officers, and made haste to send Beauchamp, with eighty men, to head off the movement, rescue the troops and to bring away the wounded and the dead. Beauchamp moved with speed, turned back the movement, and while many of the dead and wounded were recovered, he could not recover all. In this movement Beauchamp lost a number of men. So hot was the firing from the fort, that he was compelled to leave a number to the barbarity of the Chickasaws.

As Beauchamp was retiring in an orderly way, the Choctaws issued from their camp with much impetuosity and fury, as though they had at last resolved to carry everything before them. Fleet of foot, and filling the air with their wild yelling, they dashed toward the fort, but just then a well-directed fire into their ranks, from the Chickasaws, created a speedy rout, and they fled in every direction.

Had Bienville been able to bring his cannon so far into the interior, he would have demolished the fort in short order, but as it was, everything was against him. Instead of his plans being executed as originally formed, they fell to pieces, step by step, and his defeat was the most signal.

Thus ended the campaign against the Chickasaws, the fiercest and most warlike of all the tribes. After all the imposing grandeur at the outset of the campaign it ended in a fiasco. The situation was much graver than Bienville seemed to apprehend. He was in the heart of the enemy's country, without substantial support. His Choctaw allies had failed him, and in a grave crisis his own men had forsaken him. Nothing would have been easier than for the Chickasaws to cut him off from his boats, and extinguish the entire command, but, themselves unapprised of the conditions, they kept well within the enclosure of the fort. Other difficulties were in store for the unfortunate Bienville.

AFTER THE BATTLE, WHAT?

The battle of Ackia had lasted three hours, but during that brief time there were some as excellent exhibitions of bravery, as well as sad defections of soldiery, as can well be conceived. However, all the dramatic and tragical scenes were not confined to the battle, as other interesting details are to follow. The day was now closing. For about two hours, the utmost quiet had fallen on the scene. The noisy Choctaws, in a camp adjoining, had become strangely silent. Not a note of activity came from the fort, not a man was to be seen. The horses and cattle of the Chickasaws, grazing on the prairie when the battle began, had fled far across the plain, but now that the day was closing, and the firing had ceased, they came wending their way across the expanse to a small stream that flowed at the base of the hill.

In a group the French officers were standing, discussing the scenes of the recent conflict, and indignant at the conduct of the Indian allies; they turned jocularly to Simon, the negro commander, and chid him on the cowardice of his black crew. Simon was polite and bright, and was much in favor with the officers. While he smiled in return to the jocularity of the officers, he glanced about him, suddenly picked up a long rope, and said: "I'll prove to you that a negro is as brave as anybody, when it is necessary to be," and with this dashed toward the herd of cattle and horses, selected a milk-white mare, hastily made a halter, mounted on her back, and sped the entire circuit of the walls of the fort, perhaps a distance of a quarter of a mile. He was fired on by hundreds of rifles from the fort, but dashed back to the group of officers without having received a scratch, leaped from the back of the mare, gracefully saluted the officers and bowed, while they cheered his exploit. No one doubted the courage of Simon after that feat.

That night the French slept on their arms. Not a note came from the fort.

There was funereal silence everywhere. When, however, light broke over the scene on the following morning, a horrible spectacle met the gaze of the French. The Chickasaws had sallied forth during the night and had borne within the fort the dead left on the scene, had quartered them, and had hung from the walls portions of the bodies of the unfortunate slain. This act of barbarous defiance, added to the sting of defeat, infuriated many of the officers and men, and they demanded to be given another chance at the Chickasaws and they would demolish the fort. Incensed and insulted, they became almost uncontrollable, but Bienville admonished coolness and prudence, for he had had enough, and was now more concerned about how he should get away with his crippled command. As the Choctaw allies had proved an incubus to Bienville from the start, and a source of annoyance and of embarra.s.sment, the governor thought to enlist them in the removal of his stores and of the wounded. To this proposal they at first demurred, then became sullen, and finally refractory, and proposed to abandon the French outright, leave them to their fate, and hunt again their homes to the south.

Bienville was a shrewd diplomat and sagacious, and knew full well that if such an emergency should come, and the Choctaws would reach the boats first, take them and the stores left at Fort Oltibia, float down the river, and leave him and his men to perish in the wilds. In order to avert this calamity he proceeded on a policy of conciliation. It was ascertained that Red Shoes was the instigator of the discontent, who was as merciless as he was shrewdly ambitious of influence and leadership. Bienville dreaded him, and had distrusted him all along, but there was no way of disposing of him, and he had to accompany the command. The governor sent for the chief, who appeared before him accompanied by the despicable Red Shoes. Bienville not only persuaded the chief to remain steadfast, but gained his consent to have his warriors become burden-bearers of the camp equipage. At this agreement between the two leaders, Red Shoes indignantly protested, and in his rage s.n.a.t.c.hed his pistol from his belt and would have shot the chief on the spot, had not Bienville seized his brawny arm and prevented the commission of the deed.

The march back to the boats was tedious and irksome, covering only four miles the first day. Two of the wounded men died on the way and were buried in the woods. The showers under which the march to the fort had prevailed, ceased for a week or more, followed by a season of hot, dry weather, the river at that point had shrunk, and the water was scarcely of sufficient depth to float the craft. As quickly as possible, things were gotten in readiness, the Choctaws were again left to shift for themselves, and Bienville and his command drifted down the river to Fort Tombeckbe. Here he left De Berthel in command, with a year's supply of provisions, a quant.i.ty of merchandise with which to trade with the Indians, the wounded men to be cared for till restored, and Bienville, with spirit much subdued and humiliated over his discomfiture, returned to Mobile.

But what had become of D'Artaguette and his three hundred? His fate was the saddest. In seeking to comply with the request of Bienville to join him in the expedition against the fort, he had fallen in with a body of Chickasaws, who, by superior numbers, had overwhelmed him and captured him and his entire command. Himself and his men were prisoners in the fort during the engagement, and the ammunition used by the Chickasaws was that captured from the ill-fated D'Artaguette. Up to the time of the attack on the fort, D'Artaguette and his men were as well treated as Indians can treat the captured, but on the retirement of Bienville, D'Artaguette and his men were tied to stakes and burned.

For all the disasters attendant on the ill-starred campaign, including that of the fate of D'Artaguette, Bienville was held responsible by the Paris government, with which he lost favor, and the wane of influence and of power followed. Bienville was a victim of conditions over which no mortal could have had control, but it was a juncture of conditions that sometimes comes to the most meritorious of men, into which Bienville was brought, and he had to be sacrificed. While the work that he did laid the foundation of the civilization of three southern commonwealths, he was removed in dishonor, and left the scene of action and sank from view forever.

THE RUSSIAN PRINCESS

About the year 1721, a body of German colonists reached Mobile, and settled in the region adjoining. Among them was a woman of unusual personal beauty and of rare charm of manner. Her dress, and especially her jewels, indicated not only her station, but her wealth. She caused it to be understood that she was the daughter of the Duke of Brunswick Wolfenb.u.t.tel and the wife of Alexis Petrowitz, the son of Peter the Great, and accounted for her strange presence in the wilds of south Alabama, as due to the fact that she had been cruelly treated by the heir to the Russian throne; that she had fled the dominion of the great Peter, and for security, had sought the most distant region known to her. She furthermore a.s.serted that the younger Peter had duly advertised the death of his wife, but insisted that the monstrous Muskovite had done this in order to conceal the scandal of her forced flight from his castle, and in order, too, to explain her absence from the court circles of St. Petersburg.

All this she explained to be a mere ruse, and that she was the real princess who had escaped his tyranny, preferring the inhospitable wilderness of a distant continent, to the royal palace with its tyrannous cruelty. The story received general credence, since the splendor of her attire and her familiarity with the inner secrets of the Russian court proved that she was no ordinary personage. Besides all this, there was increased evidence afforded by her conduct. Her beautiful face was saddened by some evident trouble over which she seemed to brood, as with a far-away look she would sit and muse for hours together. How else could all this be explained, save by the story which she related? This is just the evidence one would look for in substantiation of a story of cruelty.

The prepossessing manner of the princess, her immense fortune, and her ability to discuss Russian affairs, served to win not alone the confidence of all, but their sympathy as well. Her wrongs were the burden of her conversation, and her own reported station in life elicited much deference, which was duly and promptly accorded by all alike.

Great as the credence was, as a result of the recital of her wrongs, it received a reinforcement from another source that seemed to place it beyond question. Chevalier d'Aubant, a young French officer, had seen the wife of the Russian prince, and he declared that this was none other than she. He could not be mistaken, for he had seen her at St. Petersburg. This insistence settled the ident.i.ty of the princess in the estimation of all.

But d'Aubant did not stop at this point of mere recognition. His profound sympathy awoke interest, which brought him frequently within the circle of the charms of the fair Russian, and, in turn, interest deepened into tenderness of affection. To the vivacious Frenchman, the glitter of wealth was far from proving an obstruction to the valiantness with which he a.s.sailed the citadel of her heart. At any rate, the chevalier and princess became one, lived in comparative splendor for years, and removed to Paris, where, in sumptuous apartments, they resided till the death of the chevalier.

The deep shadow which had come into the life of the princess, according to her own story, won her hosts of friends whom she was able to retain by reason of her charms. The well-known character of the second Peter, a dissolute, worthless wretch, and the fact that his father had sent him abroad in Europe, to travel with the hope that his ways might be reformed by a wider margin of observation of the affairs of the world, lent increased credence to the pathetic story and elicited fresh installments of interest and sympathy. Chevalier d'Aubant died in the belief that he had married the repudiated wife of the eldest son of Peter the Great of Russia.

But a fatal revelation was inevitable. It is said that while strolling in the Garden of the Tuileries she was one day met by the marshal of Saxe, who recognized her as one of the attendants of the Russian princess, an humble female who greatly resembled her mistress, and by reason of her contact with the most elevated of Russian society, had acquired the manners of the best, and while in the service of the princess had means of access to her wardrobe and purse, and by stealth, had enriched herself and at an unconjectured time fled the palace and escaped to America. The Chevalier d'Aubant, having seen the princess once, was easily deceived by the appearance of this woman, her wealth, and by the reputation of the Russian prince. On her ill-gotten wealth he lived for years, and died in blissful ignorance of her huge pretension.

It is said that the pretender died at last in absolute penury in Paris, leaving an only daughter as the result of the marriage with Chevalier d'Aubant. The story has been related in different forms by different writers, and at one time was quite prevalent as a sensational romance in the literary circles of Europe. The particulars of this rare adventure may be found recorded in much of the literature of that period, some insisting on its accuracy, while others deny it. Duclos, a prolific writer of European romance, furnishes the amplest details of the affair, while such writers as Levesque, in his Russian history; Grimm, in his correspondence, and Voltaire, straightway repudiate the genuineness of the story on the basis of its improbability. The incidents of the time at the Russian court, the career of d'Aubant, and much else afford some reason for believing that there is at bottom, some occasion for a romance so remarkable.

Without here insisting on its genuineness, such is the story, in one of its forms, as it has come to the present. However, this, as well as much else, indicates how much of interesting matter lies in literary mines unworked in connection with our primitive history. The literary spirit of the South has never been properly encouraged by due appreciation, with the consequence of a scant literature. The industrial spirit seized our fathers in other years, and the fabulous fertility of our soils, the cultivation of which beneath fervid skies, in an even climate, has largely materialized our thought, and still does. Who now reads a book? If so, what is the character of the book? We scan the morning daily, or read at sleepy leisure the evening press, skim the magazines, and this usually tells the story. From sire to son this has been the way gone for generations. Permit the bare statement without the moralizing.