Colonel Louis at Oriskany and
Valley Forge
by Darren Bonaparte
(Originally published in The
People's Voice, September 30, 2005)
Previously, we saw how Colonel Louis Cook
maneuvered his way to an officer’s commission in the Continental Army
by overemphasizing his influence over the Seven Nations of
Canada. Now we will focus on the record of his actual service to
the United States at the head of the “Company of Indian Rangers,” a
unit of Oneida, Tuscarora, and Caughnawaga warriors.
Louis was with an American force of 800 that was
sent to relieve Fort Schuyler (AKA Fort Stanwix) in August of
1777. They were ambushed by British troops and their Iroquois
allies at Oriskany Creek. This was another dark day in our history, as
Iroquois battled Iroquois with tremendous losses, similar to the
Mohawk-on-Mohawk carnage of the Bloody Morning Scout two decades
before. That Louis Cook had a hand in this hand-to-hand combat is found
in the following tradition:
Among
the Oneidas who rendered efficient aid to the American cause was one
Louis who was of St. Regis Indian birth. He was given a colonel’s
commission, and was ever afterward called Colonel Louis. The Rev. Dr.
George A. Lintner, late of Schoharie, introduced this anecdote in a
lecture before a Fort Plain audience some years ago, no doubt thinking
the hero was a white man. Here is the dominie's story as he gave it:
“A private
soldier named Louis, a rough and daring old hunter who, after the
Indian fashion, carried his knife and tomahawk with him, became so much
excited in the heat of the battle, that one of his comrades occupying a
tree next to him, asked him, ‘Louis, what is the matter?’ ‘Matter
enough,’ said Louis, ‘there is one of the black serpents lying in the
fork of a fallen tree and every time he rises up he kills one of our
men. I can stand it no longer; either he or I must die.’ As he said
this he raised his rifle and fired. The Indian leaped into the air and
fell dead across the fork of a tree which had sheltered him. Louis gave
a wild Indian whoop and then ran up to his victim.-tore off his scalp
and, returning to his comrades, threw it down before them, saying:
‘That fellow will do no more harm.’ Mr. Lintner assured the writer he
had this story well authenticated.”
Louis Cook was a fierce warrior, but he apparently
had his tender side, as noted by Peter Stephen Du Ponceau, a young
French officer assigned to Baron von Steuben:
Another
anecdote now strikes my mind, which relates to the first Indian that I
saw in the United States, and is also connected with my early
recollections of my native country which were very fresh and vivid at
that time. It was at Valley Forge, in the spring of 1778, sometime
before the evacuation of Philadelphia by the British. I was walking one
morning before breakfast, in a wood, not far from our quarters, when I
heard at a distance a French fashionable opera song, sung by a most
powerful voice, which the echoes reverberated. I feel tempted to give
you the whole song, and here it is:
Ce que je
dis est la verité même
Tous les
trésors de’ l’univers
N'ont de
valeur que par l’objêt qu’ on aime
Que par la
main dont ils nous sont offerts.
Un bouquet
qu ’unit un brin d’herbes
Donné par toi flatterait plus mon coeur
Il serait
un
don plus superbe
Il ferait
tout mon bonheur.
[What I say
is the truth
All the
treasures of the universe
Only have a
value by the object we love
Or by the
hand that offers them.
A bouquet
made of grass
Given by
you would please my heart
It would be
a more superb gift
It would be
total happiness.]
I cannot
describe to you how my feelings were affected by hearing those strains
so pleasing and so familiar to me, sung by what seemed to me a
supernatural voice, such as I had never heard before, and yet melodious
and in perfect good taste. I thought myself for a moment at the Comédie Italienne, and was lost in
astonishment, when
suddenly I saw before me a tall Indian figure in American regimentals
and two large epaulettes on his shoulders, my surprise was extreme. I
advanced towards him and told him in French vous chantez parfaitement
bien, Monsieur, [you sing perfectly well, Sir,] on this he also
appeared
astonished, he extended his hand toward me saying Ah! Mon père,
tu es Français; je suis bien content de te
voir; C’est que nous les aimons les Français, pourquois nous
ont-ils abandonné? [Ah! My father, you are French; I am
well content to
see you; It is that we love the French, why have you abandoned us?] I
was struck with this salutation and particularly with his calling me
father. C’est vous, said I, qui
êtes mon pére, je ne suis
qu ’un jeune homme. [It is you that is my father, I am but a
young man.] Ah!
replied he, tous les Français
sont nos pères,
C’est ainsi
que nous les appellons, les autres ne sont que nos frères.
[All the French
are our fathers, It is thus we call them, the others are only our
brothers.] Then he began to
explain to me that the English wanted them also to call them fathers,
but that the Indians would not consent; the French alone were their
fathers. He next asked me a number of questions about the King, the
Queen, the royal family and whether they did not mean to reconquer
Canada. I thought he would never have done.
The
conversation, however, took another turn, and he began to tell me who
he was. Je suis, said he, un sauvage de la nation des Abenakis; je
m’appelle Nia-man-rigounant, ce qui veut dire en Français
l’oiseau pi velé. [I am...a savage from the nation of Abenaki;
I am called
Nia-man-rigounant, which means in French the bird pi velé.] This
word pi velé is not in
the dictionary, but I presume it is
Canadian for variagated. He then told me that he had served the
United States in the ill-fated invasion of Canada under Montgomery and
that when our army retreated he had followed them, and had obtained the
rank of Colonel, “On m’appelle ici,”
said he, “Colonel Louis; c’est le
nom que j’ai recu au baptême, car,” added he, “je suis bon
Chrétien et bon Catholique.” [One calls me here Colonel
Louis, it is the name which I received with the baptism...for I
am [a] good Christian and [a] good Catholic.] While this conversation
was going on we reached the Baron’s
quarters, who received him cordially and invited him to breakfast.
After the repast was over, I again had a long conversation with him, in
which he told me that he had been educated by the Jesuits of whom he
spoke with great respect. They had taught him reading and writing and
many other things which he enumerated. He had some knowledge of vocal
music and I am convinced that with a little more teaching, he would
have been a valuable acquisition to the French Opera, where I have
never heard a voice of such extraordinary power, and at the same time
susceptible of modulation. I heard he was in the service of the United
States, and had the rank of Colonel. In what manner he was employed, or
what became of him afterwards, I never knew. All I can say is that I
parted with him with much regret, and never saw him since.
Louis Cook, the “rough and daring old hunter” who
sang French opera songs in the forests before breakfast, would have
many other encounters and adventures before the war was over, all of
them attested to by noted officers. In the next installment, we
will see how this activity brought him under the watchful eye of the
famous Mohawk Tories, Joseph Brant and his sister Molly.
[AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Translations in brackets were not contained in the referenced text. The
author did not have access to the original source. English translation of French text
courtesy of Mr.
Francois Boyer, “Old
Sigma” and Lee Miller.]
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