(b. 26 FEB 1772, d. 15 OCT 1823)
(bp. 15 JUN 1770)
(b. 14 AUG 1808, d. 30 JAN 1881)
The birth date from family records is 07 dec 1807, but the church record says 08 dec 1807.
Her childhood adventures as part of the ill-fated Red River Colony in Canada are preserved for us in a letter she wrote to General Augustus L. Chetlain, who in 1878 had published his recollections of this colony in Harper's Magazine. The General sent her a copy of the magazine, and a few years later she replied with an account of her own family's experiences. This letter was published in 1893, when the General reissued his story in book form (Digital version on archive.org). Was her original letter in French or English? There are few passages that seem more at home in French. Here is the letter as published:
[Augustus L. Chetlain, The Red River Colony (Chicago: Rogerson & Stockton, 1893)]
[pp.29-34]
Letter from Mrs. Grisard (nee Simon).
Gen. A. L. Chetlain.
Dear Sir and Friend: I can offer no excuse for not acknowledging your kind letter and the Harper of 1878, except the desire to write you with my own hand. The description in the Harper was entirely correct, and, if I were with you and your dear mother, we would, without doubt, in talking over that terrible voyage, recollect many things. The ship that was run into by the iceberg was the "Lord Nelson." We were three ships fastened to the iceberg, and at one time there were five — two exploring vessels laden with merchandise for Quebec, and the two others for Ft. York. Mme. Quinche (nee Monnier) must remember that when we were invited on to one of the other ships, that, in returning, she fell into the water, greatly to our fright. On our voyage we were so near the North Pole that it was continually day — there being only fifteen to twenty minutes that we could not see to read on deck. Captain May, the Secretary of Lord Selkirk, had assured me that the climate on the borders of the Red River was perfect, maturing all kinds of grain and fruits; so the visits of the Esquimaux to our ship was another surprise, and showed us what high latitude we were in. Arriving at Ft. York, there were not enough boats for transporting our baggage, so we were obliged to leave everything that was not absolutely necessary for the winter, with the promise that in the spring everything would be delivered in good order at Ft. Douglas, on the Red River; but I do not know if the things ever arrived, for we left the colony the spring of 1822, after the second devastation from "grasshoppers," which covered the earth, coming like a great thunderstorm. As you say, we distributed ourselves among the Meurons, who belonged to a regiment commanded by a Swiss, of Neuchatel — Count de Meuron — who, much to our disappointment, was absent during our stay there. I do not remember his name, but his parents were sugar-refiners in Neuchatel at that time. During our stay there our expenses were great. Wheat was two dollars a bushel, and was ground in our own coffee-mills (mine we still keep as a relic); potatoes were the same price, but meat was only twelve pounds for one dollar; coffee, two dollars a pound; the same with tobacco; sugar, one dollar a pound, and salt, one dollar a quart. Our suffering was great toward spring, when there was a lack of all provisions, at which time we lived on fish, without even salt. Sturgeon and catfish are very large in that river. From that time my father decided to leave the colony. He chartered two boats, with two hunters to row and provide us with game. Arrived at Pembina, which at that time was considered to be in the English territory, we found the Sioux Indians on the war-path, which made traveling by water too dangerous, so we hired two carts, with guides, who drove cattle for Lord Selkirk, and with the two hunters for protection we went from Pembina to the River St. Peter (now Minnesota). Mamma and myself were the first white women who had ever crossed those prairies, and the danger was terrible. When leaving Pembina, all the half-breeds and Canadians said it would not be three days before the Indians would be dancing with the scalps of those white women, but God protected us, though many times I came near being captured, but our guides were faithful and on the alert; but, what is strange, those very same Indians recognized me at Fort Snelling, and told the interpreters how they had laid their plans to capture me. At Lake Traverse we were obliged to stop quite a time, as it was just that time that the Indians were there to receive their annuities from the government. At that time we heard that you had crossed without being massacres, and a number of families joined us there (among which were the Quinches), where we were cutting the trees to make our canoes, and as we had dismissed the hunters we had only the guides and my father, who was not accustomed to work, so the other families made their canoes long before us, and before we left the place we almost died of hunger. For two whole days we had not one mouthful to eat; on the third day we met some Indians who were picking wild rice. They took us to their tents and fed us bountifully with soup and little pieces of meat that were cooking on the fire when we came. We stayed with them two days.
Your list of names was correct, but I think I remember a family of Junot, and one named Jacard.
Arriving at Fort Snelling, I was received like a sister by Mme. Colonel Snelling, in whose family I stayed while there. Each day my father came and gave French lessons to Miss and Mrs. Snelling, and so our stay was lucrative as well as agreeable.
In the spring of 1823 a steamboat arrived there, named the "Virginia." This was the first steamboat that had ascended the Mississippi above the mouth of the Illinois River. It had been three weeks coming from St. Louis, as it did not run nights. The winter of 1822-23 was a remarkable one. During a number of weeks the garrison of Fort St. Peter was on the alert, fearing a surprise from the Indians, who were then massed together so near the fort that the sound of their war-cry was heard. Their plan was to massacre the whole garrison. From that time no Indian was allowed to come into the fort.
My father was a teacher, and did not have enough occupation, so we left for St. Louis, arriving in good health. We were introduced into the families of the Soulards and Chouteaus. Mrs. James G. Soulard and Colonel Snelling were brother and sister. Our stay there was pleasant, and my father had plenty of lucrative work (there being only one young lady who gave French lessons, a Miss Favre); but it was unhealthy at St. Louis, and my father wished to come here, where the settlers were almost entirely Vaudois Suisse. He died five weeks after our arrival.
I continued, for some time, to keep a little school, but at last had to turn my attention to sewing for the family. I was accustomed to fancy sewing, but at that time the necessaries of life were all one could possibly perform.
In 1825, I married Fred G. Grisard, from Villeret, Canton of Berne. We lived happily until January 30th, 1881, when he died.
Each day grows sadder, though I have my eldest daughter with me, and my children are all kind, and I have abundantly of this world's goods. I think God, hoping that some day not distant I shall join my husband, for I am past seventy-seven years.
Accept my assurance of esteem and, if you ever come to Vevay, I shall be delighted to have a visit from you.
Very truly,
Zelie C. Grisard
nee Zelie C. Simon.
Vevay, Indiana, December 21st, 1884.
The passport issued to her father at Neuchâtel in 1821 lists her age as 10, but the letter as well as other sources in Vevay say she was born in 1807. At the time they left Switzerland, the family was living at Neuveville, in the Canton of Bern.
There were so many stories of the extraordinary tribulations of frontier women published in the course of the 19th Century that modern readers often have serious doubts about their authenticity. But there can be little doubt about Zélie's story, especially since it was written to someone who had shared some of the adventures with her, and knew the people she mentioned. We have to remember, too, that these are the stories of the survivors. The stories of those who did not survive were surely even more desperate!
The settlement of Pembina, at the junction of the Red and Pembina Rivers, was treated as a part of Canada until a survey led to the recognition, about 1823, that it was actually below the 49th parallel, and therefore part of the United States. Today, it is in the northeast corner of Pembina County, North Dakota.
