“_Married._--Clallam Bay is alive! One of the sensations of the season
occurred at that place on the sixteenth of November, and is news, though
not published till this late day. Five of the citizens having complied
with the laws of the Territory in regard to licenses were married by
Rev. M. Eells to their respective partners. Nearly all the inhabitants
of the place assembled, without regard to race or color, some of whom
had come from miles distant. First came a short address by Mr. Eells on
the history of marriage, beginning with the days of Adam and Eve, and
setting forth some of the reasons against polygamy and divorce, after
which Mr. Charles Hock-a-too and Mrs. Tau-a-yi stood up. Mr. H. has been
the only Mormon of the place, having had two whom he called wives, but
being more progressive than the Mormons, he boldly resolved to choose
only one of them, and cleave only to her so long as they both should
live. When the marriage ceremony was over, and he was asked if thus he
promised to do, he replied in a neat little speech, fully as long as the
marriage ceremony, very different from the consent of some persons whom
the public presume to have said yes, simply because silence gives
consent. It is impossible to reproduce the speech. It will live in the
memories of those who heard it, however, as coming from an earnest heart
and being all that could be desired. The bride did not blush or faint,
but also made her speech, showing that she knew what was said to her.
After this the four other couples stood up, Mr. Long John Smittain and
Kwash-tun, alias E-ni-so-ut; Mr. Tom Jim-myak and Wal-lis-mo; Captain
Jack Chats-oo-uk and Nancy Hwa-tsoo-ut; also Mr. Old Jack Klo-tasy,
father of the Captain, and Mary Cheenith. In regard to the ages of the
last two, from what we learn, the familiar lines would apply:--
‘How old is she, Billy boy, Billy boy,
How old is she, charming Billy?’
‘She’s three times six, four times seven,
Twenty-eight and eleven.
She’s a young thing and can not leave her mother.’”
While she probably is not eighty-five, yet she was old enough to obtain
a license and leave her mother. He was about seventy years old. These
were all married with one set of words, when congratulations
followed--regular hand-shaking, none of those present so far forgetting
themselves as to indulge in the (im)propriety of kissing the brides. The
ceremony having been concluded, a part of those present, the invited
guests (but here there was a distinction as to race and color) sat down
to the marriage-feast. It was none of your light, frosted, airy cake (in
fact, there was not any cake in sight), but substantial _solid_ bread
and the like. [Here the line went down, and the meager accounts we could
gather about the elegant and varied costumes worn by the charming
brides, the number and appearance of the bridesmaids, etc., had better
be supplied from the vivid imaginations of the readers.] All of the high
contracting parties, we may say, however, are tax-payers of Clallam
County and land-owners. _Kloshe hahkwa_ (“good so”).
Not much of a direct war was waged on plural marriages. They were simply
fenced in and allowed to die out. In 1874 there were only five Twana men
who had more than one wife, and there were about as many more among the
Clallams. Those who had one wife were never allowed to obtain another as
long as they were living with the first. When one of the wives died of
those who had more than one, or was willingly put away, they were not
allowed to take another in her place. On some reservations where plural
marriages have been numerous, the plan has been adopted of having the
man choose one of his wives as the one to whom he should be legally
married; and then, in order to save the others and their children from
suffering, they have been told to provide for them until the women
should be married to some other man. Among these Indians it has now come
to be practically the same. One is the real wife, and the others are so
old that they are simply taken care of by their husbands, except when
they take care of themselves, until they shall get married again; only
they do not get married to any one else, being willing to be thus cared
for.
They soon learned that a legal marriage meant more than an old-fashioned
Indian one and that a divorce was difficult to obtain. The agent took
the position that he had no legal right to grant a divorce even on the
reservation, and that if the parties obtained one they must apply to the
courts. This involved too much expense, and so not a divorce has been
obtained by those legally married. But it has taken a long, strong,
firm hand to compel some of the parties to live together, and this made
others of them somewhat slow to be legally married. One day I asked a
man who had then recently obtained a wife, Indian fashion, if he wished
to be married in white style. “I am a little afraid,” he said, “that we
shall not get along well together. I think we will live together six
months; and then, if we like each other well enough, we will have you
perform the ceremony.” It was never done, for they soon separated.
The most severe contest the agent ever had with the Indians on the
reservation was to prevent divorce. In 1876 one man, whose name was
Billy Clams, had considerable trouble with his wife and wanted a
divorce, but the agent would not allow it. He tried every plan he could
think of to make them live peaceably together, and consulted with the
chiefs and the relations of the parties; but they would still quarrel.
At one time he put him in charge of his brother-in-law, a policeman,
with handcuffs on; but with a stone he knocked them off and went to the
house of his uncle, a quarter of a mile from the agency. To this place
the agent went with two Indians and told him to go with him. With an
oath Billy Clams said he would not. The agent then struck him with a
stick quite severely. Billy got a larger stick, which the agent wrenched
from him. Then Billy grabbed the agent around the waist, and, with the
help of his uncle, threw him down. The other Indians who went with the
agent took them off. Then the agent locked the door and sent the
friendly Indians to the agency for two white men, the carpenter and the
blacksmith, for help. Twice Billy and his uncle tried to take the key
away from the agent, but failed; three times Billy tried to get out of
the window, but the agent stopped him. Then they made an excuse that a
very old man must go out; and while the agent was letting him go, Billy
ran across the room, struck the middle of the window with his head, and
went through it; and the agent went so quickly out in the same way, that
he lit on Billy’s neck with one foot, after which the window fell on
him, and, as he was knocking that off, Billy got away and ran through
the woods. Being swift of foot, he escaped; but there had been a fresh
fall of snow, and the agent and two white men, with a number of Indians,
followed him all day. They, however, could not take him. The agent at
night offered a reward of thirty dollars if any of the Indians would
bring him in; but their sympathies were too much with him, and at night
one sub-chief and his son, with a cousin of Billy Clams, helped him off,
and he went to some relations of his at Port Madison, sixty or seventy
miles away. The next day Billy’s uncle was put in irons in the jail, and
not long after those who had furnished Billy with a canoe, blankets, and
provisions also went into the jail, while the sub-chief was deposed. The
Indians worked in every way possible to have them released, but the
agent said that he would only do so on condition that Billy Clams should
be brought in. They had said that they did not know where he was; but in
a short time after the agent said this, he came in and delivered himself
up and was confined in the jail for six months. But a number of the
Indians, including the head chief and a sub-chief, encouraged by some
white men near by, had been to a justice of the peace and made out
several charges against the agent for various things done during all his
residence among them, and had them sent to the Commissioner of Indian
Affairs at Washington. The principal charges were for shooting at an
Indian (or ordering an employee to do so), burning ten Indian houses,
selling annuity goods, collecting large fines for small offences, and
having the employees work for him. The real cause of their sending
these was the trouble with Billy Clams and his friends. The commissioner
sent to General O. O. Howard, in charge of the military department of
the Columbia, and requested him to investigate the charges. The
commissioner said that on the face of the letter, it bore evidence of
being untrue; but still he desired General Howard’s opinion. Accordingly
Major W. H. Boyle was detailed for this purpose. He examined six Indians
and three white men, as witnesses against the agent, and one white
employee in his favor,--giving the agent an opportunity to defend
himself,--and found that the charges amounted to so nearly nothing that
he went no further.
After Billy Clams had served out his term of six months in jail, he
secretly abandoned his wife and took another, and then they ran away to
Port Madison. The agent quietly bided his time, found out the
whereabouts of the offending party, and, with a little help from the
military, had him arrested and conveyed to Fort Townsend, where he
worked six months more, with a soldier and musket to watch him. This
showed the Indians that they could not easily run away from the agent,
or break the laws against divorce, and greatly strengthened his
authority among them.