CHIEF JOSEPH, OF THE NEZ PERCES, OR HIN-MAH-
TOO-YAH-LAT-KEKT.
THUNDER ROLLING IN THE MOUNTAINS--THE MODERN XENOPHON.
This remarkable man, and greatest Indian since Tecumseh, was born,
according to his own statement, in eastern Oregon, in the year 1841.
In the _North American Review,_ of April, 1879, is an article dictated by
Joseph, in which he states that his tribe was originally called the
Chute-pa-lu, and gives the origin of the name Nez Perces (nose pierced), as
applied to them, as follows:
"We did not know there were other people besides the Indian until about one
hundred winters ago, when some men with white faces came to our country.
They brought many things with them to trade for furs and skins. They
brought tobacco, which was new to us. They also brought guns with flint
stones on them, which frightened our women and children.
"Our people could not talk with these white-faced men, but they used signs
which all people understand. These men were Frenchmen, and they called our
people 'Nez Perces,' because they wore rings in their noses for ornaments.
Although very few of our people wear them now, we are still called by the
same name.
"The first white men of your people who came to our country were named
Lewis and Clark. They also brought many things our people had never seen.
They talked straight and our people gave them a great feast, as proof that
their hearts were friendly. These men were very kind. They made presents
to our chiefs and our people made presents to them. We had a great many
horses, of which we gave them what they needed, and they gave us guns and
tobacco in return. All the Nez Perces made friends with Lewis and Clark,
and agreed to let them pass through their country, and never to make war on
white men. This promise the Nez Perces have never broken. No white man can
accuse them of bad faith and speak with a straight tongue. It has always
been the pride of the Nez Perces that they were the friends of the white
men."
Chief Joseph's father was also a chief, and called Joseph. It seems that
this name was given to him by Rev. Mr. Spaulding, who was associated with
Dr. Marcus Whitman, and at one time a missionary to the lower Nez Perces.
A strange man was old Joseph, a sturdy, strong-built man with a will of
iron and a foresight that never failed him, save when he welcomed the
Americans to his country. He had some strange notions, too, one of which
was that "no man owned any part of the earth, and a man could not sell what
he did not own." He seems to have been an aboriginal Henry George in his
idea that ownership in land should be limited to occupancy.
In 1855 Governor Stevens and Rev. Mr. Spaulding invited all the Nez Perces
to a treaty council. Old Joseph was present, and when Mr. Spaulding urged
him to sign the treaty, he answered, "Why do you ask me to sign away my
country? It is your business to talk to us about spirit matters, and not to
talk to us about parting with our land."
When Governor Stevens also urged him to sign the treaty he refused, saying,
"I will not sign your paper; you go where you please, so do I; you are not
a child. I am no child; I can think for myself. No man can think for me. I
have no other home than this. I will not give it up to any man. My people
would have no home. Take away your paper, I will not touch it with my
hand!"
Old Joseph was as firm as a rock and would never sign way his rights to
Wallowa (Winding Water), claiming that it had always belonged to his people
and their title should be perpetuated. He even went so far as to enclose
the entire tract with poles firmly planted in the ground, and said, "Inside
this boundary is the home of my people. The white man may take the land
outside. Within this boundary all our people were born. It circles around
the graves of our fathers, and we will never give up these graves to any
man."
Deluded old Joseph! Vain was your effort; nor would a Chinese wall have
long been an effectual barrier against the encroachments of the whites, who
had seen and coveted the beautiful valley of the "Winding Waters." Ere long
white settlers established homes _inside_ the boundaries of the aged chief,
in spite of his remonstrance. And the United States Government, instead of
protecting him in his rights, coolly claimed that it had bought all the Nez
Perces country outside of Lapwai reservation from Chief Lawyer and others.
On account of these encroachments another treaty was made in 1863. By this
time old Joseph had become blind and feeble, and could no longer speak for
his people. It was then that young Joseph took his father's place as chief,
and made his first speech to white men. Said he to the agent who held the
council: "I did not want to come to this council, but I came, hoping that
we could save blood. The white man has no right to come here and take our
country. We have never accepted any presents from the Government. Neither
Lawyer nor any other chief had authority to sell this land. It has always
belonged to my people. It came unclouded to them from our fathers, and we
will defend this land as long as a drop of Indian blood warms the hearts of
our men."
The agent told Joseph he had orders from the Great White Chief at
Washington for his band to go upon the Lapwai Reservation, and that if they
obeyed he would help them in many ways. "You _must_ move to the agency," he
said. To which Joseph replied, "1 will not. I do not need your help; we
have plenty, and we are contented and happy if the white man will let us
alone. The reservation is too small for so many people with all their
stock. You can keep your presents; we can go to your towns and pay for all
we need; we have plenty of horses and cattle to sell, and we won't have any
help from you; we are free now; we can go where we please. Our fathers were
born here. Here they lived, here they died, here are their graves. We will
never leave them." The agent went away, and the Indians had peace for a
little while.
In his narrative young Joseph said, "Soon after this my father sent for me.
I saw he was dying. I took his hand in mine. He said: 'My son, my body is
returning to my mother earth, and my spirit is going very soon to see the
Great Spirit Chief. When I am gone, think of your country. You are the
chief of these people. They look to you to guide them. Always remember that
your father never sold his country. You must stop your ears whenever you
are asked to sign a treaty selling your home. A few years more and white
men will be all around you. They have their eyes on this land. My son,
never forget my dying words. This country holds your father's body. Never
sell the bones of your father and your mother.' I pressed my father's hand
and told him I would protect his grave with my life. My father smiled and
passed away to the spirit land. I buried him in that beautiful valley of
'Winding Waters.' I love that land more than all the rest of the world. A
man who would not love his father's grave is worse than a wild animal."
Spoken like the noble son of an equally noble sire. Inspired by such words
of burning patriotism, is it any wonder that young Joseph resisted the
encroachments of the whites and the machinations of the Government
authorities to the bitter end, and not only gave them "a run for their
money," but the most stubbornly contested campaign of all our Indian wars?
Chief Joseph, of the Nez Perces, was more than six feet in height, of
magnificent physique, strikingly handsome and graceful, with a native
dignity, and a mind of great strength. He was a true patriot and in defense
of his country evinced the genius of a natural born general, and could he
have received the training of West Point, he would have become the peer of
Grant, Lee or Sherman. He conducted, as will be seen, one of the most
skilful and masterly retreats in the annals of warfare.
{Illustration: Chief Joseph of the Nez Perces, or
Hin-Mah-Too-Yah-Lat-Kekt.}
He was, moreover, as eloquent as Logan or Red Jacket, and a gifted
logician, who could not be refuted. He disposed of the question in dispute
in a manner that was at once logical and unanswerable. Said he, "If we ever
owned the land we own it still, for we never sold it. In the treaty
councils the commissioners have claimed that our country had been sold to
the government. Suppose a white man should come to me and say, 'Joseph, I
like your horses and I want to buy them.' I say to him, 'No, my horses suit
me; I will not sell them.' Then he goes to my neighbor and says to him,
'Joseph has some good horses. I want to buy them, but he refuses to sell.'
My neighbor answers, 'Pay me the money and I will sell you Joseph's
horses.' The white man returns to me and says, 'Joseph, I have bought your
horses and you must let me have them.' If we sold our lands to the
government this is the way they were bought."
After the wrong was consummated, when Joseph was permitted to go to
Washington and talk to our wise men, he said, "I have asked some of the
great white chiefs where they get their authority to say to the Indian that
he shall stay in one place, while he sees white men going where they
please. They can not tell me." That question will never be answered.
In his report of September, 1875, Gen. O. O. Howard said, "I think it a
great mistake to take from Joseph and his band of Nez Perces Indians that
(the Wallowa) valley. The white people really do not want it. They wish to
be bought out. I think gradually this valley will be abandoned by the white
people, and possibly Congress can be induced to let these really peaceable
Indians have this poor valley for their own."
Lieut.-Col. H. Clay Wood was another member of the commission who, in his
report of August 1, 1876, on "The Status of young Joseph and his band of
Nez Perces Indians," gave his opinion that the Government had so far failed
to comply with its agreements in the treaty of 1855; that none of the Nez
Perces were bound by it. He also made a minority report as commissioner,
recommending that although Joseph's band would have to be moved eventually,
yet that, "until Joseph commits some overt act of hostility, force should
not be used to put him upon any reservation."
The other members of the commission, D. H. Jerome, William Stickney and A.
C. Barstow, must have made a very different report, for certain it is, the
Department of the Interior, acting on its recommendations, ordered the
non-treaties to be placed on the Lapwai reservation.
By virtue of his office as commander of that district, General Howard was
the agent to enforce this order. He met the non-treaties in May, and found,
as he must have anticipated, that they were unwilling to go on the
reservation.
General Howard held three councils with the malcontent Indians at Fort
Lapwai, the station of the Indian agency for the Nez Perces reservation,
said to be the loveliest valley of Idaho. The last of these councils, that
of May 7, 1877, was indeed a stormy session. The principal speaker on this
occasion was Too-Hool-Hool-Suit, who was a dreamer as well as a prophet,
priest and chief. He taught that the earth having been created by God in
its completeness, should not be interfered with, disturbed or improved by
man, and that if the Indians continued steadfast in their belief, a great
leader would be raised up in the East, at a single blast of whose trumpet
all the dead warriors would start suddenly into life, and that the millions
of braves thus collected would expel the white man from the continent of
America, and repossess it for their own dusky race. The old dreamer was a
man of great importance and remarkable influence among the Indians.
As the council proceeded, Too-Hool-Hool-Suit arose and said to General
Howard: "The Great Spirit Chief made the world as it is, and as he wanted
it, and he made a part of it for us to live upon. I do not see where you
get authority to say that we shall not live where he placed us." Chief
Joseph says General Howard now lost his temper, and said: "Shut up! I don't
want to hear any more such talk. The law says you shall go upon the
reservation to live, and I want you to do so, but you persist in disobeying
the law [meaning the treaty]. If you do not move I will take the matter
into my own hand and make you suffer for your disobedience."
Too-Hool-Hool-Suit answered: "Who are you, that you ask us to talk, and
then tell me I shan't talk? Are you the Great Spirit? Did you make the
world? Did you make the sun? Did you make the river to run for us to drink?
or the grass to grow? Did you make all these things, that you talk to us as
though we were boys? If you did, then you have the right to talk as you
do."
General Howard replied, "You are an impudent fellow, and I will put you in
the guard-house," and then ordered a soldier to arrest him.
Too-Hool-Hool-Suit made no resistance. He asked General Howard: "Is that
your order? I don't care. I have expressed my heart to you. I have nothing
to take back. I have spoken for my country. You can arrest me, but you can
not change me or make me take back what I have said."
Continuing, Joseph said: "The soldiers came forward and seized my friend
and took him to the guard-house. My men whispered among themselves whether
they should let this thing be done. I counseled them to submit. If I had
said nothing, General Howard would never have given another unjust order
against my men. I saw the danger, and, while they dragged
Too-Hool-Hool-Suit to prison, I arose and said: '_I am going to talk now._
I don't care whether you arrest me or not.' I turned to my people and said:
'The arrest of Too-Hool-Hool-Suit was wrong, but we will not resent the
insult. We were invited to this council to express our hearts, and we have
done so.' Too-Hool-Hool-Suit was a prisoner five days before he was
released."
This Indian chief was, therefore, put under military arrest and confined
for five days for delivering himself of what General Howard calls a
"_tirade_" in a council to which the Indians had been invited to come for
the purpose of consultation and expression of sentiment. As the Indian
Commissioner, in his Annual Report for 1878, well says, "If such and so
swift penalty as this, for 'tirades' in council were the law of our land,
especially in the District of Columbia, it would be 'no just cause of
complaint' when Indians suffer for it. But considering the frequency,
length and safety of 'tirades' in all parts of America, it seems unjust not
to permit Indians to deliver them. However, they do come under the head of
'spontaneous productions of the soil;' and an Indian on a reservation is
invested with no such proprietorship in anything which comes under that
head."
The position of the Government was now plain to the Indians. They must go
to the reservation or fight. They decided to go. Joseph wrote: "I said in
my heart that rather than have war I would give up my country. I would give
up my father's grave. I would give up everything rather than have the blood
of white men upon the hands of my people. General Howard refused to allow
me more than thirty days to move my people and their stock. I said to him,
'My people have always been the friends of the white man. Why are you in
such a hurry? I can not get ready to move in thirty days. Our stock is
scattered, and Snake River is very high. Let us wait until fall, then the
river will be low. We want time to hunt up our stock and gather supplies
for winter. We want the people who live upon the lands we are to occupy at
Lapwai to have time to gather their harvest."
General Howard replied, "If you let the time run over one day, the soldiers
will be there to drive you on the reservation, and all your cattle and
horses outside the reservation at that time will fall into the hands of the
white men."
It does seem that this great haste was unnecessary and positively cruel,
and that those Indians should have been given time to collect their stock,
their sole means of subsistence, and get them safely over the river. But
the theory is we must have firmness in dealing with the Indian, if we have
nothing else; yet this time it proved to be a serious and costly blunder.
Joseph truly said, "If General Howard had given me plenty of time to gather
up my stock and treated Too-Hool-Hool-Suit as a man should be treated,
_there would have been no war._"
The Indians went to make their preparations; they looked on their old home
and their love for it increased at the thought that they were about to be
deprived of it by fraud, even though they had never sold or signed it away.
Too-Hool-Hool-Suit's indignation burned because of his imprisonment for the
offense of telling his convictions in the council, the very thing he was
expected to do. There was a warrior whose father had been killed by a white
man, and the wrong was unrebuked. There were the two warriors who had been
whipped by one Harry Mason. These formed a war party, and determined, over
Joseph's counsel, to fight the soldiers when they came. It is said that at
this time, Chief Joseph rode one day through his village, with a revolver
in each hand, saying he would shoot the first one of his warriors who
resisted the Government. Finally, they gathered all the stock they could
find, preparatory to moving. A heavy rain raised the river so high some of
the cattle could not be taken across. Indian guards were put in charge of
the cattle left behind. White men attacked these guards and took the
cattle. After this Joseph could not restrain his young men and the warfare
began.
It was the desire of Joseph and others that the settlers should not be
molested, in the hope that they would remain neutral; but it was voted down
in the war-council, on the grounds that it was the settlers who brought on
all the trouble, because they wanted the Nez Perces' land and stock, and,
in fact, some of them actually got both.
The Indians now bought arms and ammunition wherever they could. They
practiced military movements, in which they were already quite proficient.
General Shanks says that "Joseph's party was thoroughly disciplined; that
they rode at full gallop along the mountain side in a steady formation by
fours; formed twos, at a given signal, with perfect precision, to cross a
narrow bridge; then galloped into line, reined in to a sudden halt, and
dismounted with as much system as regulars."
June 18 arrived; the thirty days were up; the soldiers had not come. Over
on Salmon River three Indians killed an old hermit ranch man named Devine.
The taste of blood whetted their appetites, and the next day four more fell
victims. Mounting their horses, they hurried to Camas Prairie, where the
main body of Indians was encamped. Riding through the camp they displayed
the spoils of their bloodshed and exhorted the others to join them. Joseph
and his brother, Ollacut, were not in the camp; they had placed their
tepees some distance from the others, on account of Joseph's wife, who was
sick and wanted quiet. White Bird, the next in rank and influence, gave
way. Riding through the camp, he exclaimed, "All must join now. There is
blood. You will be punished if you delay." Seventeen warriors joined the
three and they hurried back to Salmon River. Eight more fell victims to
them, including Harry Mason, who had whipped the two Indians.
On the night of June 14 another party attacked the people of the Cottonwood
House, a ranch used as a frontier inn, on the road between Mount Idaho and
Fort Lapwai. At ten o'clock they were warned by a messenger of the
approaching Indians, and hurriedly started to Mount Idaho, two on
horseback, the rest, including several women and children, in a farm wagon.
When they had covered ten miles of their journey they were overtaken by the
Indians. Two men and a boy were killed and the others badly wounded, two
men subsequently dying of their injuries.
Joseph protested against hostilities until he saw that war was inevitable.
He then took command and moved his warriors to White Bird cañon, where
they prepared to fight the soldiers. Nor had they long to wait. Colonel
Perry, at the head of ninety soldiers, was soon on the road from Fort
Lapwai. On the evening of the 16th he reached Grangerville, four miles from
Mount Idaho, where he was joined by ten citizens. Marching on through the
night, he reached White Bird cañon at daylight and began the descent of
the broad trail, hoping to surprise the Indians. But the vigilant Joseph's
keen eye was the first to discover the group of horsemen silhouetted
against the sky at the head of the cañon, just as the sun was rising. "Get
the white man's glass I Tell White Bird. Horses! The soldiers are here!"
he shouted in command.
Some of his young men became a little nervous as they saw the soldiers
approaching and suggested that it would be better to move across the
Salmon River, where the soldiers could not reach them. "No." said Joseph,
"we will fight them here." The women and children were sent across the
river and a party of mounted warriors under White Bird took a position in
ambush behind a ridge on the south side of the cañon. The rest, under
Joseph, were crouched on the ground, squarely across the trail, hidden
behind rocks and in hollows. On came the soldiers until well within range,
when every bush and rock poured out its fire. At the same time White Bird's
men appeared on the left and poured in another deadly volley. The soldiers
were falling fast, and the order was shouted to fall back to the next
ridge. This was immediately done, but with the enemy at their heels there
was no time to stop. While the officers were trying to rally their men the
Indians were pressing along the sides of the cañon to gain the head and
cut off retreat. Part of the command reached the ascent and hurried out.
The remainder, under Lieutenant Theller, were cut off, and most of them,
including the gallant lieutenant, were killed. Across the rugged country
the Indians pursued the flying troops for twelve miles. But once out of
that death trap the officers obtained control, and the retreat was
conducted with some degree of order. Four miles from Mount Idaho Joseph
withdrew his men. He had fought and won his first battle, even though
largely outnumbered by his enemy.
Joseph says of this encounter: "We numbered in that battle sixty men, and
the soldiers one hundred. The fight lasted but a few minutes before the
soldiers retreated. They lost thirty-three killed, and had seven wounded.
When an Indian fights, he only shoots to kill; but soldiers shoot at
random. None of the soldiers were scalped. We do not believe in scalping
nor in killing wounded men. Soldiers do not kill many Indians unless they
are wounded and left upon the battlefield. Then they kill Indians."
The military reputation of the Nez Perces was altered. It would require a
stronger force to subdue them. Reinforcements were ordered from all the
neighboring forts. Skirmishing and minor engagements continued.
While waiting for these reinforcements a detachment was sent under Captain
Whipple to attack Chief Looking-Glass and his band, and bring them in
before they had time to join the hostiles. Whipple discovered the red men
in the neighborhood of Mount Idaho, and dispatched Lieutenant Rains with
ten picked men and a scout named Foster to reconnoiter. Following this
advance-guard at a distance of a mile with his main force, the sound of
firing was heard at the front. Hurrying forward with his command, Whipple
was horrified to find that Rains and every man in his detachment had been
killed. A company of seventeen volunteers, under Captain Randall, was
attacked on the Mount Idaho road; two were killed and two wounded. All
would have been cut to pieces, had not Captain Whipple and his company
hurried to the rescue. As to Looking Glass, his camp was destroyed, and
seven hundred and twenty-five ponies captured, but he and his warriors all
escaped and joined Joseph.
Meantime, General Howard was at Fort Lapwai impatiently waiting for
reinforcements. But the accounts of Indian horrors came so thick and fast
that further delay, though desirable, was yet impossible.
Mason, in his account of this expedition, says: "The little band of
men--cavalry and infantry--together with an old mountain howitzer and two
Gatling guns, are drawn up in marching order. The train of pack-mules, with
their immense loads of ammunition and provision, move restlessly back and
forward in the parade-ground. The trained white mare, with the tinkling
bell attached to her neck, stands thoughtful and attentive, ready to lead
her restless followers along the stony trail."
{Illustration: Buckskin Charlie, War-Chief of the Utes.}
"The last farewells are said. The last mule pack is adjusted. The last
red-shirted artillery man takes his stand by his gun. There is a moment of
quiet. Suddenly the commanding officer shouts, 'Attention!' and then a
moment later, 'Column, march!' Every man steps off with his right foot. The
cavalry are in front. The proud bell-mare, with her cavalcade of mules,
stubborn to all else, but to her yielding the most perfect obedience, {FN}
follow, and behind them, in column of fours, come the infantry."
* * * * *
{FN} The author's father has taken large droves of mules from Lexington,
Kentucky, on foot to New Orleans, with no help but one assistant and an
old white mare. If this queen of the drove was inclined to bite or kick
her followers on the slightest provocation, her influence over them, was
wonderful. Without her no fence would hold them overnight; with her in
their midst no fence was necessary, for where she was there would they be
also.
On July 11, General Howard and his little army of four hundred fighting
men, besides teamsters and train men, came in sight of the enemy.
Joseph, at the head of about three hundred warriors, had crossed the
country to the Lapwai reservation and taken a position on the Clearwater,
and was waiting to give battle, having erected breast works of the most
approved pattern.
This was done with the assistance of the squaws, who fought as hard as the
men, and, as usual, worked harder.
The soldiers advanced in line of battle, leaving the supply trains
unguarded. From the high point of vantage he had taken, Joseph was quick
to notice this and dispatched thirty warriors to attack them. An officer
with his field glass caught this movement just in time to send a messenger
to warn them to hurry into the lines. A company of cavalry also galloped to
their protection. The Indians gained the smaller train, killed two packers
and disabled their animals, but were driven off by the fire of the cavalry.
The large train, however, gained the lines uninjured. The battle raged all
that afternoon, with its charges and counter charges, its feinting and
fighting. During the night both parties kept up a desultory fire while
strengthening their positions. The battle was renewed in the morning, and
continued with no perceptible advantage to either side until the middle of
the afternoon. At that time a fresh company of cavalry reënforced General
Howard's command. The troops now redoubled their effort by charging the
enemy's line on the left. For a short time the Indians fought desperately
from behind their rocky breastworks, but at length gave way and fled in all
directions, bounding from rock to rock through the ravines, or plunging
into the river out of sight only to reappear when its swift current had
borne them out of range. The victorious troops pressed them so closely that
the Indian camp, with its blankets, buffalo robes and cooking utensils fell
into their hands. The Indians, however, made their escape with their herds
and sufficient supplies for their purpose, and before the soldiers could
cross the Clearwater, a large body of warriors was seen on the right front,
apparently returning for an attack. While preparations were being made to
meet this force, the remainder, of the Indians continued their flight and
escaped. The returning warriors, having accomplished their purpose by this
feint, shortly disappeared. In the morning the troops continued to pursue
the retreating Indians, only to fall into an ambush by the rear-guard of
the Nez Perces, and be thrown into confusion.
As Dunn says: "Night found the Indians safely encamped in an almost
impregnable position, at the entrance of Lolo trail. Joseph had fought his
second battle, against heavy odds, and though beaten, had brought off his
forces most creditably."
Finding they were largely outnumbered, the Indians retreated through the
mountain pass to Bitter Root valley, over what General Sherman says "Is
universally admitted by all who have traveled it--from Lewis and Clark to
Captain Winters--as one of the worst trails for man and beast on this
continent." The Nez Perces came safely over this trail, encumbered with
their women and children and herds.
In the valley of the Lou-Lou they were confronted by a hastily built fort,
held by Captain Rawn with a few regulars and some volunteers. Looking-Glass
said to them, "We will not fight the settlers if they do not fight us. We
are going by you to the buffalo country. Will you let us go in peace?" Rawn
replied, "you can not go by us." To this the Indian answered, "We are going
by you without fighting if you will let us, but we are going by you
anyhow."
The volunteers now interfered, and told the commander the Nez Perces had
always been "good Indians." The settlers on the Bitter Root had no grounds
for complaint in their conduct, as they passed each year to and from the
buffalo country. Besides, in the expressive frontier phrase, "they had not
lost any Indians," and consequently were not hunting for any. The Indians
might pass, and God speed them out of the country.
The Nez Perces not only passed by in peace, but they stopped at the
villages of Stevensville and Corvallis and traded with the whites. They
also left a spy at Corvallis, who stopped until Howard had come up and
passed on, and then sped away to Joseph with full particulars.
Meantime General Gibbon, with about two hundred cavalry, had hastened from
Helena across to Fort Missoula, on the Bitter Root, but arrived too late to
intercept Joseph. Gibbon followed the Indian trail, and overtook them
August 8. Waiting through the night for "that dark still hour which is just
before the dawn," he swept through the camp in a furious charge, completely
surprising the Indians. It seems that Joseph and his men supposed the war
was over, and having started to the buffalo country, were careless about
posting sentinels. Though taken by surprise, General Joseph rallied his
warriors and recaptured the camp. He also drove the soldiers back to a
grove of timber, where they erected rude barricades, and made a stand.
Joseph said of General Gibbon: "Finding that he was not able to capture us,
he sent to his camp for his big guns (cannon), but my men had captured them
and all the ammunition. We damaged the big guns all we could and carried
away the powder and lead." At eleven o'clock that night the Indians
withdrew, leaving Gibbon wounded and his command so crippled that it could
not pursue. Joseph had fought and won his third battle.
The Nez Perces remained long enough to bury their dead, but when General
Howard joined Gibbon at this place, his Bannock scouts, ghoul-like, dug up
the bodies, and in the presence of officers and men, scalped and mutilated
them. The body of Looking-Glass, their ablest diplomat, who fell here, was
abused in this manner, although the Nez Perces, being neither civilized nor
the allies of civilization, neither took scalps nor mutilated. It is also
their proud boast that they never made war on women and children while the
war lasted. Joseph said "We would feel ashamed to do so cowardly an act."
Continuing the retreat, Joseph and his band crossed the continental divide
again into Idaho, and camped on the great Camas prairie, on the
Yellowstone, west of the National Park. He had replenished his supplies,
captured two hundred and fifty good horses, and his forces were in
excellent condition. General Howard's troops also camped in the prairie a
day's march behind. Lieutenant Bacon had been dispatched with a squad of
men to hold Tacher's Pass, the most accessible roadway over the divide into
the park. The pickets and sentinels were posted, and the weary troopers
were soon sleeping, unconscious of war's alarms.
In the faint starlight dark forms might have been seen creeping through the
tall grass. Halter ropes and hobbles were cut and bells removed from the
necks of the bell-mares. Creeping away in the same manner, but with less
caution, a slight noise was made. "What was that?" asked a picket of a
comrade. "Nothing but a prowling wolf," was the reply. For some time
nothing could be heard in the camp but the regular foot falls of the
sentinel. Suddenly a troop of horsemen came in sight, riding back over the
trail of the Indians. They rode in column of fours, regularly and without
haste. "It must be Bacon's men returning," said the pickets. On came the
troopers to the very lines of the camp, but when they were challenged by
the sentinel they answered with a war-whoop. At once pandemonium was let
loose. A wild yell arose, followed by a fusillade of small arms, which
startled the soldiers and stampeded the horses and mules, which were seen
scampering away, with heads in the air, nostrils spread, snorting with
excitement, followed by the Indians, yelling like demons. We must credit
the great chieftain with a successful surprise.
The Nez Perces next eluded Bacon and retreated through Tacher's Pass into
the beautiful National Park. In the region of the hot springs and geysers,
they met a party of travelers. It consisted of Mr. Cowan, his wife,
sister-in-law, brother-in-law and two guides. Three of the men were left
for dead, but the other, together with the two ladies, were carried into
captivity. Horrible fate! General Howard said they were "afterward
rescued." But Joseph said, "On the way we captured one white man and two
white women. We released them at the end of three days. They were kindly
treated."
On September 9 word was brought that General Sturgis was coming from the
Powder River country with three hundred and fifty cavalry and some friendly
Crows. Joseph was now between the two forces. Can the Indian chieftain
again escape? Yes, this savage, with a genius for war which would have made
him famous among the military heroes of any age or country, made a feint
toward the West, fooling Sturgis, and sending him on a wild-goose chase to
guard the trail down the Stinking Water. At the same time Joseph and his
people, under cover of a dense forest, made their way into a narrow and
slippery cañon. This was immensely deep, but the almost perpendicular
walls were but twenty feet apart. Through this dark chasm slipped
and floundered the cavalry and infantry. It must have been a strange sight
as the column moved slowly along the bottom of the defile, men, horses,
pack-mules and artillery, with only a narrow ribbon of sky high above
them. All in vain, Joseph again escaped.
There was but one way to reach them and that was by direct pursuit. All day
long the Indians retreated, fighting desperately as they went, and at dark
the exhausted soldiers withdrew to camp at the mouth of the cañon. Nothing
had been accomplished during the day except to round up several hundred
ponies which had been abandoned by the Nez Perces, while they continued
their flight on fresh mounts. March as they would, the soldiers could not
diminish the distance between pursued and pursuers.
The Nez Perces retreated up the Musselshell River, and then, circling back
of the Judith Mountains, struck the Missouri September 23, at Cow Island.
General Joseph had fought his fourth battle, against a greatly superior
force, which he had held in check, while he brought off his own people in
comparative safety. Crossing the Missouri, the Nez Perces moved on
leisurely to the north. Having repulsed the forces of Howard, Gibbon, and
Sturgis, each in turn, the Indians began to feel secure. They were now
entering a beautiful country, a veritable paradise, lying between the Bear
Paw and Little Rocky Mountains. It is also rich in romance and tradition,
and the reputed locality of the "Lost Cabin of Montana," the new El Dorado
of miners' thoughts by day and dreams by night.
The Indians established their camp on Snake Creek, a tributary of Milk
River, within a day's march of the British dominions.
There was yet one hope. Days before, a messenger had embarked in a canoe
and started down the Yellowstone River to Fort Keough, to inform Gen. N. A.
Miles, the commandant, of the situation. General Miles at once put his
forces in order and started northward to intercept the wily Joseph. He
reached the Indian camp on the morning of September 30, at the head of
three hundred and seventy-five men, and at once began the attack.
The Nez Perces knew of their coming only long enough to take a position in
the ravines of the creek valley, and await the attack. General Miles
ordered a charge upon the Indian camp, which succeeded in cutting it in two
and capturing most of their horses. The soldiers, however, recoiled under
the deadly fire of the Indians, with one-fifth of their force killed and
wounded.
Joseph's warriors, though surprised, proved themselves worthy of the
reputation they had established at Camas prairie, Big Hole and elsewhere,
and fought with great valor. The continuous fire and unerring aim of their
magazine guns at close range inflicted a loss to General Miles of
twenty-six killed and forty wounded, while Joseph's loss for the first day
and night was eighteen men and three women.
Each side found foe men worthy of their steel. Never, on any occasion, did
the American Indians display more heroic courage, and never did the
American soldiers exhibit more unshaken fortitude.
For four days and as many nights the two forces faced each other. The
whites controlled the situation, as escape from the ravine was cut off, but
were unwilling to attempt to capture the camp by storm. They knew, from
their first experience, that such an attempt would involve a terrible loss
of life. Meantime, Joseph strengthened his intrenchments and prepared for a
siege. He also dispatched a messenger to Sitting Bull, who was just over
the line of the British dominions with twelve hundred discontented and
hostile Sioux. The hope was that this chief and his warriors would come to
their relief; but for some reason Sitting Bull failed them in their
extremity.
The Indians could not escape through the lines without abandoning their
wounded and helpless. Joseph said of this battle: "We could have escaped
from Bear Paw Mountain if we had left our wounded, old women and children
behind. We were unwilling to do this. We had never heard of a wounded
Indian recovering while in the hands of white men. I could not bear to see
my wounded men and women suffer any longer; we had lost enough already.
General Miles had promised that we might return to our country with what
stock we had left. I believed General Miles, or I never would have
surrendered. I have heard that he has been censured for making the promise
to return us to Lapwai. He could not have made any other terms with me at
that time. I would have held him in check until my friends came to my
assistance, and then neither of the generals nor their soldiers would have
ever left Bear Paw Mountain alive."
On the morning of October 5 Joseph and his band surrendered--those who were
left. Ollacut, his brother, had fallen here at Snake Creek, with
twenty-seven others. White Bird had flown in the night with a band of one
hundred and five, including Joseph's daughter. They reached the British
Dominions and joined Sitting Bull. So, to stop any further bloodshed, Chief
Joseph now handed his gun to General Miles, in the presence of General
Howard, who arrived the day previous with a small escort, and said with
impressive dignity: "Tell General Howard I know his heart. What he told me
before I have in my heart. I am tired of fighting. Our chiefs are killed.
Looking-Glass is dead; Too-Hool-Hool-Suit is dead. The old men are all
dead. It is the young men who say yes or no. He who led on the young men
(Ollacut) is dead. It is cold and we have no blankets. The little children
are freezing to death. My people, some of them, have run away to the hills,
and have no blankets, no food; no one knows where they are--perhaps
freezing to death. I want to have time to look for my children, and see how
many of them I can find. Maybe I shall find them among the dead. Hear me,
my chiefs. I am tired; my heart is sick, and sad. From where the sun now
stands I will fight no more against the white man forever."
"Thus," says General Sherman, "has terminated one of the most extraordinary
Indian wars of which there is any record."
The Indians throughout displayed a courage and skill that elicited
universal praise; they abstained from scalping, let captive women go free,
did not commit indiscriminate murder of peaceful families, which is usual,
and fought with almost scientific skill, using advance and rear guards,
skirmish lines and field fortifications.
{Illustration: "Comes Out Holy," Sioux.}
Gen. Nelson A. Miles, perhaps the greatest living authority, as he is
certainly one of our ablest generals and most successful Indian fighters,
says in his report: "As these people have been hitherto loyal to the
Government, and friends of the white race, from the time their country was
first explored, and in their skilful campaign have spared hundreds of lives
and thousands of dollars' worth of property, that they might have
destroyed, and as they have been, in my opinion, grossly wronged in years
past; have lost most of their ponies, property and everything except a
small amount of clothing, I have the honor to recommend that ample
provision be made for their civilization, and to enable them to become
self-sustaining. They are sufficiently intelligent to appreciate the
consideration which, in my opinion, is due them from the Government. The
Nez Perces are the boldest men, and the best marksmen of any Indians I have
encountered, and Chief Joseph is a man of more sagacity and intelligence
than any Indian I have ever met. He counseled against the war, and against
the usual atrocities practiced by Indians, and is far more humane than such
leaders as Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull. The campaign of the Nez Perces is
a good illustration of what would be the result of bad faith or
ill-treatment toward the large tribes of mountain Indians that occupy most
of the Rocky Mountain range."
It must be understood that Joseph surrendered on honorable terms. General
Miles said: "I acted on what I supposed was the original design of the
Government to place these Indians on their own reservation, and so informed
them, and also sent assurances to the war parties that were out and those
who had escaped, that they would be taken to Tongue River and retained for
a time, and sent across the mountains as soon as the weather permitted in
the spring." The Indians understood also that they were to retain what
stock they still had. General Howard also concurred in these conditions and
gave orders to General Miles to send the Indians to his department in the
spring, unless he received "instructions from higher authority."
The terms of this surrender were shamefully violated. Joseph and his band
were taken first to Fort Lincoln. Then to Fort Leavenworth, afterward to
the Quapaw Agency, Indian Territory. At Leavenworth they were placed
between a lagoon and the river, the worst possible place for sanitary
conditions that could have been selected, with no water but that of the
"Big Muddy" to drink. All were affected by the poisonous malaria of the
camp.
Joseph said, "Many of my people sickened and died, and we buried them in
this strange land. I can not tell how much my heart suffered for my people
while at Leavenworth. The Great Spirit Chief, who rules above, seemed to be
looking some other way, and did not see what was being done to my people."
Yet he is just and magnanimous enough to add in the same connection: "I
believe General Miles would have kept his word if he could have done so. I
do not blame him for what we have suffered since the surrender. I do not
know who is to blame. We gave up all our horses, over eleven hundred, and
all our saddles, over one hundred, and we have not heard from them since.
_Somehody has got our Horses._"
As Helen Hunt Jackson well says in her "Century of Dishonor," "This
narrative of Chief Joseph's is profoundly touching; a very Iliad of
tragedy, of dignified and hopeless sorrow; and it stands supported by the
official records of the Indian Bureau."
The Indian Commissioner, in his Annual Report for 1878, says: "After the
arrival of Joseph and his band in Indian Territory, the bad effect of their
location at Fort Leavenworth manifested itself in the prostration by
sickness at one time of two hundred and sixty out of the four hundred and
ten, and within a few months in the death of more than one-quarter of the
entire number."
It is gratifying to record that General Miles left no stone unturned to
have the conditions of the surrender respected. Some seven years later,
when he had been promoted, he succeeded in having Chief Joseph and the
remnant of his band returned to the neighborhood of their old home. Joseph
and a few others were placed at the Colville Agency, in Washington, and the
remainder were put with their people on Lapwai reservation.
A few years ago Chief Joseph attended the commencement exercises of the
Carlisle Indian Industrial School, and there sat at the same banquet table
with Gen. 0. 0. Howard. The two former foes, but at that time fast friends,
toasted each other.
A special correspondent of the _Inter Ocean_ wrote of this incident:
"These two men were the chief opposing figures in a most remarkable Indian
war twenty-seven years ago. During this war, in 1877, Chief Joseph's battle
line was fourteen hundred miles long. He proved one of the greatest foes
who ever fought against an American army, but his present attitude is
vastly different, as was shown by his speech at the banquet. He spoke in
the Indian language, the literal translation being as follows:
"'Friends, I meet here my friend, General Howard. I used to be so anxious
to meet him. I wanted to kill him in war. To-day I am glad to meet him, and
glad to meet everybody here, and to be friends with General Howard. We are
both old men, still we live, and I am glad. We both fought in many wars and
we are both alive. Ever since the war I have made up my mind to be
friendly to the whites and to everybody. I wish you, my friends, would
believe me as I believe myself in my heart in what I say. When my friend
General Howard and I fought together I had no idea that we would ever sit
down to a meal together, as to-day, but we have, and I am glad. I have lost
many friends and many men, women and children, but I have no grievance
against any of the white people, General Howard or any one. If General
Howard dies first, of course I will be sorry. I understand and I know that
learning of books is a nice thing, and I have some children here in school
from my tribe that are trying to learn something, and I am thankful to know
there are some of my children here struggling to learn the white man's ways
and his books. I repeat again I have no enmity against anybody. I want to
be friends to everybody. I wish my children would learn more and more every
day, so they can mingle with the white people and do business with them as
well as anybody else, I shall try to get Indians to send their children to
school.'"
During the Louisiana Purchase Exposition, at St. Louis, in 1904, Chief
Joseph was one of the greatest attractions at the Indian Congress, the
early part of the season. But the thought of exhibiting himself for money
was very distasteful and humiliating to the proud chieftain. This, together
with his habit of brooding over the wrongs and afflictions of his unhappy
people, brought on a sickness. He went back to the reservation the early
part of July, but it was simply going home to die. He lingered along until
the 21st day of the following September, when his great soul took its
flight to the "Great Spirit Chief," who will judge between him and the
Government who (it would almost seem) deliberately wasted and destroyed one
of the noblest and most civilized of the native American tribes.
Soon after his death, Dr. E. H. Latham, the agency physician, was
interviewed by a newspaper reporter, and he declared that "Joseph had died
of a broken heart."
No people on earth have a nobler patriotism, or greater love for their
country than the Indians. We doubt not the doctor's diagnosis was correct,
and we firmly believe that thousands of other leaders of that race have
died of the same malady.
All fair-minded people now believe it was a mistake, and a burning shame,
to take the Wallowa valley away from Joseph and his band for the benefit of
a few greedy settlers, when there were at that very time teeming millions
of acres of land just as good, and open to settlement, throughout eastern
Oregon and border States. All the vast treasure and bloodshed would have
been saved, and to-day there would have been in that valley of "Winding
Water" one of the most civilized, prosperous and progressive Indian
settlements in America.
It would actually pay our Government in dollars and cents to mete out the
same protection and justice to the Indian as it does to every one else
under the flag whose skin is white. Whatever the theory may be, the
practice has been to regard the Indian as the legal prey and predestined
victim for every white scoundrel who wanted to rob or even murder him, and
he was often justified on the theory that "the only good Indian is a dead
one."
But it is a long lane that has no turn. Those broken-hearted martyrs, like
Joseph, have not died in vain. We seem to be entering on a new era of human
brotherhood, in which the value is placed on the jewel rather than the
_color_ of the casket containing it. Manhood, worth, virtue, are now sought
for and honored even by the proud Anglo-Saxon, regardless of race or color.
The proof of this statement is found in the splendid monument erected by
the Washington University State Historical Society over the remains of
Chief Joseph.
We are indebted to Prof. Edmond S. Meany, secretary of the above society,
for an account of the exercises held at the unveiling and dedication of the
monument. This took place at Nespelim, Washington, June 20, 1905, in the
presence of a large number of white and Indian friends and admirers of the
great chief.
The monument is of white marble and measures seven and one-half feet in
height. On the front is carved a fine portrait of the famous warrior. On
the base, below this portrait, in large raised letters, appears the name,
CHIEF JOSEPH. On one side is his Nez Perce name, Hin-Mah-Too-Yah-Lat-Kekt,
and its translation, "Thunder Rolling in the Mountains." On the other side,
"He led his people in the Nez Perce war of 1877. Died 21 September, 1904,
age, about 60 years," On the back of the shaft: "Erected 20 June, 1905, by
the Washington University State Historical Society."
We also received from an Indian correspondent, Tom Eagle Blanket, of
Nespelim, a newspaper containing a report of the exercises of the occasion.
Several speeches were made by representatives of both races. The principal
Indian orator was Yellow Bull, an aged Nez Perce from Montana, who was a
sub-chief, next in rank to the younger Joseph, at the time of the war, and
fought with him, side by side. Though old and blind. Yellow Bull walked
erect and made quite an imposing appearance in his rich Indian dress. He
spoke very earnestly, and said in part: "I am very glad to meet you all
here to-day, my brothers and sisters, and children and white friends. When
the Creator created us, he put us on this earth, and the flowers on the
earth, and he takes us all in his arms and keeps us in peace and
friendship, and our friendship and peace shall never fade, but it will
shine forever. Our people love our old customs. I am very glad to see our
white friends here attending this ceremony, and it seems like we all have
the same sad feelings, and that would seem like it would wipe my tears.
Joseph is dead; but his words are not dead; his words will live forever.
This monument will stand--Joseph's words will stand as long as this
monument. We (the red and the white people) are both here, and the Great
Spirit looks down on us both; and now if we are good and live right, like
Joseph, we shall see him. I have finished."
As soon as the two widows of Joseph and other old squaws who were with the
fighting Nez Perces during the war heard the voice of Yellow Bull once
more, and his words of the dead chieftain, they broke forth into loud
wailing, thus proving that Indian women love as devotedly, and mourn for
the loved and lost, exactly like their white sisters.
After electing Albert Waters chief, to succeed Joseph, the bands returned
to their homes and reservations.