Ka ipnim passoaitataisha ishina tamanikash kaua kuna tamanikina
popsiaunu; hu mu ipalkalikina pawiskilktatasha kaua kunapki kokalh
haasu, tamanikina popsiaunu; kunapki kaua hiwasatitatasha tamanikitp,
ipalkalikina taks panitatasha, kaua hanaka wapshishuikash autsaiu laptit
wah pahat Wawia. Kush uiikalaham hiutsaiu ka kalaham kush hiuiakiu.
_continued from page 41_
William Gray, who had moved back to Waiilatpu from Lapwai, built a third
house in 1840-41. Situated 400 feet east of the mission house, it was a
neat, rectangular adobe building. Gray and his wife lived in it only a
short time. In 1842 he decided that his future lay elsewhere than in the
mission field. The Grays moved to western Oregon where they began an
active life as settlers.
Although a blacksmith shop and a gristmill had been erected at Lapwai to
serve all the stations, it became evident to Whitman that the central
location of Waiilatpu required similar facilities there. In 1841 the
blacksmith equipment was moved from Lapwai, and a small, adobe shop, 16
by 30 feet, was built half-way between the mission house and Gray’s
residence. Its adobe bricks were taken from the first house, which was
torn down at this time. A corral was also built near this shop.
A small, improvised gristmill was built on the south side of the mission
grounds in 1839. A second, more efficient mill soon replaced it. With
this mill, Whitman was able to produce enough flour to supply the other
stations and to sell to the emigrants of 1842. In addition, some of the
Cayuse began to bring their grain to the mill. After Whitman had
departed for the United States in the autumn of 1842, fire destroyed the
mill. Not until 1844 did Whitman find the opportunity to build his third
mill. Much larger than the others, the new gristmill had grinding stones
40 inches in diameter. Later, a threshing machine and a turning lathe
were built on the mill platform. For waterpower to operate the mill, a
ditch was dug from the Walla Walla River to a millpond formed by two
long earthen dikes.
Although some pine timber had been handsawed in the Blue Mountains and
dragged to the mission by horses, Whitman felt a dire need for a
waterpowered sawmill. Among other things, he wanted to replace his
leaky, earthen roofs with boards. He picked a spot on a stream in the
foothills about 20 miles from the station and, by 1846, had the mill
ready for operation. In 1847 a small cabin was built at the sawmill to
house two emigrant families whom Whitman hired that autumn for a season
of sawing. Physically, Waiilatpu was fast becoming the most substantial
and comfortable of all the stations. From time to time, the other
missionaries were just a shade envious of the Whitmans.
As the missionaries carried their work into the 1840’s, they continued
their efforts among the Indians. Whitman had his greatest success in
teaching them the rudiments of agriculture. In 1843 he wrote that about
50 Indians had started farms, each cultivating from a quarter of an acre
to three or four. The Cayuse also became interested in acquiring cattle,
and by 1845 nearly all possessed the beginnings of a herd.
Much slower progress was made in education and religious instruction. To
the Whitmans’ disappointment, the Cayuse became less and less interested
in learning the principles of Christianity. The demands made of them
were too great for their simple and seminomadic way of life. Then, too,
the Whitmans found they had less and less time to devote to Indian
affairs. In addition to the multitude of details involved in the
everyday job of acquiring food and shelter, the arrival of the annual
emigrant trains from the United States demanded much time and energy
from the Whitmans. Waiilatpu became not only an Indian mission but also
an important station on the Oregon Trail.
At Lapwai, Spalding was having greater success among the Nez Percé and
was able to convert several important Indian leaders. In 1839 he
obtained a printing press from the American Board mission in Hawaii and
printed parts of the Bible in the Nez Percé language. Both he and Asa
Smith had difficulty in devising a workable alphabet. But on the second
attempt, they contrived one that captured the sounds of the Nez Percé
tongue. At Tshimakain and Kamiah the work of teaching and converting
Indians proved a laborious and slow task. Although they recognized the
difficulties facing them, the missionaries clung tenaciously to the idea
of preparing the Indians for the day when white settlers would pour into
the fertile lands of the Far West.
Meanwhile, the signs of white migration were becoming more plentiful at
Waiilatpu, situated as it was on the main route of travel from the East.
One of the ways in which this movement was making itself apparent was in
the increasing number of white children who were to be seen at Whitman’s
station.
_The Mission Children_
On her 29th birthday, March 14, 1837, Narcissa Whitman gave birth to her
only child, a baby girl who was named Alice Clarissa after her two
grandmothers. Alice was the first child born of United States citizens
in the Pacific Northwest. Her arrival was a great joy not only to her
parents but to the Cayuse as well. The Indians had been aware of the
baby’s coming, and after her birth all the chiefs and elders of the
tribe visited the house to see the _temi_ or “Cayuse girl,” as they
promptly named her because she was born on their lands.
That autumn the Whitmans took 8-month-old Alice Clarissa on a visit to
the Spaldings at Lapwai. It was time for Eliza Spalding’s first
confinement, and Dr. Whitman had come to officiate. On November 15, the
baby arrived. The Spaldings named their daughter Eliza, after her
mother. Back home again, little Alice Clarissa provided her parents with
untold happiness. But that happiness was to be tragically short lived.
On a fine Sunday afternoon, June 23, 1839, Alice Clarissa Whitman met
death by drowning. Unattended for a few minutes, she had wandered down
to the steep bank of the nearby Walla Walla River and had fallen in.
Though her body was found but a short time later, all attempts to revive
her failed. Her heartbroken parents tried to console themselves with the
thought that her demise was the will of God. Yet their loneliness was
immense. Before long, however, the Whitmans once again had children in
their home to care for and to raise.
The first of these was Helen Mar, the half-breed daughter of the famous
mountain man, Joe Meek. Helen Mar’s Nez Percé mother had deserted Meek,
and when he journeyed to Waiilatpu in 1840, he persuaded Mrs. Whitman to
accept the care of the child. The next year, another little part-Indian
girl was added to the Whitman household when another famous mountain
man, Jim Bridger, sent his 6-year-old Mary Ann to the Whitmans.
In 1842 two Indian women brought a “miserable-looking child, a boy
between three and four years old,” to Narcissa and asked her to take him
in. This boy was also half-Indian; his Spanish father had once been an
employee of the Hudson’s Bay Company. Narcissa tried to decline the
responsibility, but her pity was too great. Taking the child, she named
him after an old friend back home, David Malin. Then, when Marcus
returned to Oregon in 1843 from his trip East, he brought with him his
13-year-old nephew, Perrin Whitman. Thus the Whitmans acquired their
fourth youngster.
The next seven children to be added to the household were all of one
family. In 1844 Henry and Naomi Sager left Missouri with six children.
On the trail to Oregon, Mrs. Sager gave birth to her seventh child. But
tragedy rode with the Sagers. Henry died when the family reached the
Green River; a month later, Mrs. Sager died near what is now Twin Falls,
Idaho. The children, benumbed by the loss of both parents, were brought
on by the wagon train. The women of the train took turns caring for the
baby, while Dr. Dagan, a German immigrant, drove the Sager cart with the
other six children toward the Whitmans’ mission.
For many days, the emigrants’ wagons had been passing through Waiilatpu.
Just before the seven orphans came, Narcissa had written home: “Here we
are, one family alone, a way mark, as it were, or center post, about
which multitudes will or must gather this winter.” On the morning the
children arrived Mrs. Whitman was called to the yard to greet them.
There she witnessed a poignant scene.
Before the cart stood the four barefoot girls in their tattered dresses.
Afraid of the unknown, they huddled speechlessly, first looking at Mrs.
Whitman then at one another, not knowing what to expect. John, the older
boy, still sat in the cart. Exhausted but relieved, he bent his head to
his knees and sobbed aloud. His brother, Francis, leaned on a wheel and
also began to cry. Dr. Dagan, who had been both father and mother to the
orphans, stood to one side and, filled with emotion, watched Narcissa
murmur a compassionate welcome. She then took the children into the
mission house.
[Illustration: An Indian woman made this doll for young Elizabeth
Sager.]
At that time Narcissa’s health was not good, and she and Marcus debated
that evening whether or not to take all seven orphans into their family.
But the plight of the children resolved all doubts. The Whitmans now
found themselves directly responsible for a family of 11 children.
In addition to this family, the children of the emigrant families
stopped at the mission each autumn and often stayed for the winter. Also
present were the children whom the Whitmans took into their school as
boarders—such as the young lady whom Dr. Whitman had brought into the
world, Eliza Spalding—and the two Manson boys, the half-breed sons of a
Hudson’s Bay employee at Fort Walla Walla. Thus, following the death of
Alice Clarissa, there was always a large number of youthful voices at
Waiilatpu, as indeed there was, to a lesser degree, at the other
missions.
_Missions in Oregon_
During the 11 years they operated in Oregon, the American Board stations
continually sent home requests for lay assistants to help convert the
Indian tribes. Despite these pleas, no additional reinforcements were
sent to Oregon after 1838. On the contrary, the mission stations were
reduced from four to three. Discouraged, lonely, and increasingly
concerned over his wife’s health, Asa Smith left Kamiah in 1841 and
sailed for the Hawaiian Islands. From then until 1847 only Waiilatpu,
Lapwai, and Tshimakain remained in operation.
In western Oregon the Methodist missions, established with the arrival
of Jason Lee in 1834, were suffering difficulties of their own. Faced
with a rapidly diminishing number of Indians, the Methodists began to
concentrate in the early 1840’s on establishing churches among the new
white settlements that were rapidly filling the Willamette Valley. In
1847 the Methodists offered to sell their remaining Indian mission,
Waskopum at The Dalles, to the American Board. Whitman, worried that
Catholic missionaries would take over the area if the American Board did
not, agreed to purchase it. Lacking a missionary to send there, he hired
Alanson Hinman and his wife, from the Willamette Valley, to take charge
of secular affairs and sent his nephew, Perrin, to live with them.
As early as 1834 French Canadian employees and ex-employees of the
Hudson’s Bay Company in Oregon had petitioned the Catholic bishop at Red
River in western Canada for priests. At first the Hudson’s Bay Company
refused to help priests come to Oregon, but in 1838 it agreed to
transport Catholic missionaries across the Rockies provided that no
missions were established south of the Columbia River.
The Bishop of Quebec accepted responsibility for sending Catholic
missionaries to the Pacific Northwest. As soon as the Hudson’s Bay
Company agreed to help with transportation, the bishop sent the Reverend
Francis N. Blanchet to be vicar-general of the new area. Joined at Red
River by Father Modeste Demers, Blanchet arrived at Fort Vancouver late
in 1838.
Because of the company’s restriction, Blanchet was careful not to
establish mission stations south of the Columbia. Before long, however,
the restriction was removed, and a Catholic mission was established at
French Prairie in the Willamette Valley.
[Illustration: PRINCIPAL MISSIONS AND STATIONS
Lower Columbia River and Its Tributaries
1834-1847]
LEGEND:
(A)—American Board
(C)—Catholic
(M)—Methodist
Fort Langley
Victoria (C)
Whidby Island (C) 1840
Fort Nisqually (C) 1839 (M) 1840,
Clatsop Plains (M) 1840, (C) 1840
Cascades (C) 1841
Fort Vancouver (C) 1838
Willamette Falls (M) 1840, (C) 1841
Old Mission (M) 1834
Chemeketa (M) 1841
Willamette R.
The Dalles (A) 1811
Clackamas (C) 1841
St. Paul’s (C) 1839
St. Louis (C) 1844
Fort Colville (C) 1838
St. Paul’s (C) 1845
St. Francis Regis (C) 1845
Tshimakain (A) 1839
Fort Okanagan (C) 1838
St. Ignatius (C) 1845
St. Michael’s (C) 1844
Sacred Heart (C)
1842
1843
1846
Immaculate Heart of Mary (C) 1845
The Assumption (C) 1845
St. Francis Borgia (C)
St. Rose Lima (C) 1847
Fort Walla Walla (C) 1838
Waiilatpu (A) 1836
St. Ann’s (C) 1847
Lapwai (A) 1836
St. Mary’s (C) 1841
Kamiah (A) 1839
During 1839 both Blanchet and Demers made extensive tours throughout
Puget Sound and on the upper Columbia. While at Fort Colville, near the
American Board station at Tshimakain, Demers learned that an American
priest, Father Peter DeSmet, was in the Flathead country to the east.
Father DeSmet had been sent out to Oregon by the Bishop of St. Louis in
answer to a call similar to that which had stimulated the Protestant
missions. In 1841 DeSmet founded St. Mary’s mission in the Bitter Root
Valley in present-day Montana and, in the next year, the Sacred Heart
mission among the Coeur d’Alene Indians, in what is now Idaho.
By 1842 the Canadian and American Catholic missions in Oregon were
united under the authority of Blanchet. Soon reinforcements were
received from Canada, the United States, and Europe. In 1844 Francis
Blanchet was designated as bishop and 2 years later was promoted to
archbishop when Oregon was elevated to an ecclesiastical province. The
brother of the archbishop, A. M. A. Blanchet, was made bishop of Walla
Walla. He arrived at Fort Walla Walla in September 1847, accompanied by
Vicar-General J. B. A. Brouillet, six priests, and two lay brothers.
The 1830’s and 1840’s were years of strong antagonisms between the
Protestant and Catholic churches in the United States. The missionaries
in Oregon shared in this feeling. When Marcus Whitman met Bishop A. M.
A. Blanchet at Fort Walla Walla, he was greatly disturbed by the
presence of the Catholic missionaries.
[Illustration: Peter John DeSmet, apostle to the Indians.]
[Illustration: DeSmet founded Sacred Heart mission among the Coeur
d’Alene Indians in 1842. From Thwaites, _Early Western Travels_.]
Bishop Blanchet proceeded to establish St. Ann’s mission among the
Cayuse on the Umatilla River and St. Rose of Lima near the mouth of the
Yakima River. The Catholic missionaries unwittingly had chosen a most
unpropitious time for establishing these missions. Their beginning was
to coincide with the disaster at “the place of the rye grass.”
With the outbreak of violence at Waiilatpu in November 1847, strong
anti-Catholic feeling flared up in Oregon that was to color many minds
for years to come. The troubles at Waiilatpu, however, were not the
result of religious rivalry, and the Catholic missionaries could in no
way be rightfully blamed. The tragedy at the Whitman station would have
occurred had there been no Catholics in eastern Oregon.
Besides the real and imagined troubles of rival churches during this
decade, the American Board missionaries were experiencing difficulties
within their own ranks. Out of this dissension came one of the most
remarkable cross-country journeys in American history.
_The Ride East_
In September 1842 an alarming letter from the American Board arrived at
Waiilatpu. It ordered the closing of Waiilatpu and Lapwai and directed
Whitman to move to Tshimakain. Spalding, Gray, and Smith were told to
return home.
These drastic orders were the result of letters written by Smith, Gray,
Rogers, and others, telling the Board of the many dissensions among the
missionaries. Reports were sent to Boston about Spalding’s bitterness
toward the Whitmans, about the feud between Spalding and Gray, and about
Smith’s constant faultfinding. They told, too, of the inability of the
missionaries to agree on policies toward the Indians and toward the
independent Protestant missionaries who strayed into the Northwest. The
letters recounted in painful detail the petty squabbles that had risen
from time to time among all the missionaries.
But before the orders reached Oregon, many of these problems had already
been solved. The missionaries, realizing the harm coming from
dissension, had agreed to patch up their differences and had had some
success in doing so. The Smiths had long since left the mission, and the
Grays were about to go. Meeting at Waiilatpu to discuss the orders, the
missionaries first decided not to put the directive into effect until
the Board should hear of the improvements that had been made. This would
take time, for it was not unusual to wait a year or more for an answer
to a letter. Deeply concerned over the matter, Whitman made the sudden
decision that he should go at once to Boston to talk to the Board’s
Prudential Committee. Reluctantly, the other missionaries agreed.
On October 3 Whitman set out on his remarkable ride across the continent
in the height of winter. Accompanied by a newly arrived emigrant, Asa
Lovejoy, and an Indian guide, Whitman reached Fort Hall on the upper
Snake River after 15 days of travel. Persuaded to detour to the south
because of rumors of Indian wars east of the Rockies, the tiny party
crossed the Uintah Mountains to Fort Uintah, in Utah. The hazardous trip
was made through deep snow and in bitter cold.
[Illustration: WHITMAN’S RIDE AND THE OREGON TRAIL]
Whitman’s Ride, 1842
Oregon Trail, 1843
Later cut-offs, Oregon Trail
International Boundaries
St. Louis
Liberty
Independence
{_Whitman_}
Bent’s Fort
Taos
Santa Fe
Fort Uncompahgre
Fort Uintah
{_Oregon Trail_}
Fort Laramie
_South Pass_
Fort Bridger
{_Oregon Trail Cutoff_}
Fort Bridger
Fort Hall
Fort Boisie
Waiilatpu
Fort Walla Walla
Fort Vancouver
Following the Uintah, Colorado, and Gunnison Rivers, Whitman reached
Fort Uncompahgre, Colo. From there, he set out for Taos in northern New
Mexico, but had to return when his guide became lost. Severe winter
storms continued to harass Whitman and Lovejoy, but by mid-December they
reached Taos. On the trail to Bent’s Old Fort on the Arkansas River,
they learned that a group of mountain men were leaving the fort for St.
Louis. Whitman pushed on ahead to catch this party before it left.
Later when Lovejoy reached the fort, he discovered that Whitman had not
yet arrived. Sending word to the mountain men to wait, Lovejoy turned
back and found Whitman, who in his haste had become lost. Exhausted,
Lovejoy stayed at Bent’s Old Fort until summer, when he joined Whitman
at Fort Laramie for the return trip to Oregon. On February 15 Whitman
reached Westport, Mo. By March 9 he was in St. Louis, and about March 23
he arrived in Washington, D.C.
Even after he reached Boston, Whitman left no written record of his
overland journey. Although Lovejoy did write about it in later years,
his account includes only the western part of the trip. For the last
half of the journey, we must rely on the accounts of those who saw
Whitman as he traveled toward the American Board headquarters at Boston.
On reaching civilization at St. Louis, it is probable that he gave up
the saddle gladly and traveled to Washington by steamer and stagecoach.
In Washington, Whitman visited Secretary of the Treasury J. C. Spencer,
an old friend. It is possible, too, that he was introduced to President
John Tyler. This stopover in Washington caused many people years later
to claim that Dr. Whitman had ridden East to persuade the government to
save Oregon from the British, an argument not widely accepted today.
Most historians agree that Whitman’s ride was to save the missions and
that the trip through Washington was secondary.
The great weakness in the “save Oregon” theory was that it failed to
distinguish between the reasons for the trip and the results that came
of it. This theory also tended to link the causes of the journey with
the results of all Whitman’s later efforts in Oregon, including
assistance to the American emigrants and the development of Waiilatpu as
an important way station on the Oregon Trail.
When Marcus Whitman arrived at New York City about March 25, he was
interviewed by Horace Greeley, the famed editor of the _Tribune_. At New
York the doctor boarded the _Narragansett_ and sailed to Boston, where
he arrived March 30. Despite the rough seas of the Atlantic coast, this
part of the extraordinary trip must have seemed calm to Whitman after
the hundreds of miles on horseback through the winter snows of the Rocky
Mountains and the western prairie—a journey of hardships rarely
paralleled in American history.
In the office of the American Board Whitman was greeted with coldness,
but the Board agreed to listen to his reports and arguments in favor of
the Oregon field. In all respects, Whitman’s visit was a successful one.
The Board rescinded the unfavorable orders and agreed to send
reinforcements to Oregon if suitable persons could be found.
His task accomplished and a hasty visit paid to his home, Whitman began
his return trip to Oregon in April 1843. At Independence, Mo., he joined
that year’s migration of almost 1,000 people who were preparing to
follow the Oregon Trail.
_A Caravan on the Oregon Trail_
The wagon train of 1843 was the largest yet to assemble for the trip to
Oregon. Its way had been paved by the triumphs and failures of the fur
traders, adventurers, missionaries, and settlers who had gone before.
Back in 1832, Capt. Benjamin Bonneville had taken 20 wagons beyond the
Continental Divide. However, he did not attempt to take them to the
Columbia River, which he visited in 1834 and again in 1835. In 1836
Whitman and Spalding set a new milestone by taking a light wagon, by
then converted to a two-wheeled cart, as far west as Fort Boise.
The first wagons reached the Columbia in 1840. They were brought from
Fort Hall, where earlier travelers had abandoned them, by a group of
mountain men who were on their way to settle in the Willamette Valley.
The trail was so rough that the men finally stripped the wagons down to
their bare frames to get through the sagebrush. The next year an
emigrant train of more than 100 people, led by Dr. Elijah White, reached
the Columbia, but their wagons were taken only as far west as Fort Hall.
It was the caravan of 1843 that brought all these efforts to fulfillment
by taking its wagons intact to the Columbia. One of the reasons for this
success was Dr. Whitman.
In May 1843 the emigrants held a general meeting at Independence to plan
the organization of the wagons. For better control, it was eventually
decided to divide the train into two parts: an advance group
unencumbered by livestock, and a slower group that would take the
cattle. Beyond Fort Hall, where the danger from Indian attack was much
less, the train was to split into smaller units, each to proceed at its
own speed. The emigrants also appointed a committee to talk to Dr.
Whitman to obtain advice on the journey. From his own experiences,
Whitman was in a position to offer many sound suggestions.
While the caravan crossed the prairie during June and July, Marcus
Whitman remained behind with the cow column. But when the lead wagons
reached the mountains in the first week of August, he moved up to the
advance party. From then on Whitman was active in helping to guide the
train westward. He assisted in finding the easiest fords and in crossing
the rivers. He pushed on ahead to locate and mark the best routes.
Whenever necessary, he treated the sick and the lame. Above all, he
constantly urged the emigrants, some of whom were experiencing great
discouragement, to keep on pushing westward so that they would reach
Oregon before winter set in. At Fort Hall, the Hudson’s Bay Company
trader, Richard Grant, in good faith advised the emigrants to leave
their wagons there. But Whitman insisted that the wagons could be taken
to the Columbia. Catching his enthusiasm, the emigrants formally hired
the doctor to lead them the rest of the way. From Fort Hall to the
Grande Ronde Valley, he went ahead of the train marking the route for
the wagons to follow.
Just before the difficult crossing of the Blue Mountains, Whitman
received word by messenger to hurry to Lapwai where both Henry and Eliza
Spalding were seriously ill. To help the emigrants in crossing the
mountains, he persuaded them to accept as a guide an outstanding Cayuse
leader named Stickus. This chief faithfully and carefully guided the
wagons across the timber-covered range and on to the mission station.
After a fast ride to Lapwai, Whitman treated the Spaldings, then hurried
on to Waiilatpu. He arrived home on September 28, just 5 days short of a
year since he had started on his trip. Stopping only long enough to
notice that the first of the emigrant wagons had already arrived, the
doctor mounted his horse once more in answer to another summons and rode
to the Tshimakain mission to deliver Myra Eells of a son.
By the time Whitman again returned to Waiilatpu, most of the emigrants
had already stopped at the mission and had gone on to the Columbia. From
the mission’s storerooms, the travelers had refurnished their supplies
with wheat, corn, potatoes, beef, and pork raised at Waiilatpu.
This migration of 1843 confirmed Marcus Whitman’s thoughts that his
mission was to be an important way station on the Oregon Trail. From
then on, by the time emigrants reached the Walla Walla Valley each
autumn many were sick, exhausted, or suffering from hunger. Marcus and
Narcissa welcomed these people, whether they stopped overnight or stayed
for the winter. The sick and injured were treated; produce from the
fields was sold or given to the needy; worn-out horses and cattle were
replaced with fresh ones from the mission’s herd. A few, not yet aware
of the high cost in the Far West of food, tools, and other things needed
by the emigrants, criticized Whitman for being mercenary, but most
visitors praised him for his aid. He turned no one away. Whitman felt it
was his special responsibility to care for the destitute and the sick.
The Oregon Trail was repeatedly changed with the discovery of shortcuts
during these years. In 1845 the majority of the emigrants by-passed the
mission when a trail was opened down the Umatilla River past present-day
Pendleton, Oreg. But each autumn many of the wagons still turned toward
Waiilatpu for shelter. The famous as well as the unknown came to the
mission: T. J. Farnham, emigrant leader; Capt. John Charles Frémont,
army explorer; Paul Kane, artist; and John Sutter, of later California
fame. These and hundreds more found comfort and aid at Waiilatpu.
Because Whitman was back at his station and relations among the
missionaries were greatly improved, the next few years seemed to be good
ones for the Oregon mission. But, despite the outward signs of success,
troubles were breeding that would lead to tragedy.
_The Gathering Storm_
One of the results of the increasing number of emigrants on the Oregon
Trail was the Cayuse’s conviction that their way of life was in danger.
Although the emigrants, up to now, had continued on to the rich
Willamette Valley, the Indians feared the day when the settlers would
stop on Cayuse land. The Cayuse were quick to identify the Whitmans with
the tide of settlers. Tom Hill, a Delaware Indian living among the
nearby Nez Percé, contributed to this conviction. He told the Cayuse
that before long the emigrants would be taking their lands. This, after
all, was what had happened to his own people. He also said that the
Whitmans were becoming rich from the sale of their produce to the
travelers, and he argued that this wealth should be used in helping the
Indians.
The Cayuse’s concerns were intensified by the increasing interest Dr.
Whitman was showing in the emigrants. The doctor himself foresaw that
the Indians’ mode of living would not be able to withstand the
encroachments of the aggressive settlers for very long. It seemed
obvious to him that the future of Oregon belonged to the whites. As
Whitman turned his attention more and more to the problems of
emigration, which he was forced to do by the very presence of the
travelers, there was naturally a decrease in the time and effort he
could devote to the Indians. Furthermore, the results of more than 10
years labor among the Cayuse offered little encouragement, and he feared
that the future would be little better. The Cayuse were quick to sense
this change. When they did, they lost their faith in the purpose of the
mission and in the missionaries themselves.
These growing resentments and suspicions were heightened in the autumn
of 1847 when a measles epidemic spread from that year’s wagon train to
Cayuse villages. This was a new disease for the Cayuse, and their bodies
had little resistance to it. The effect of the disease in the lodges was
disastrous. Within 2 months about half the Cayuse tribe died from
measles or from the accompanying dysentery, though the Whitmans tried
desperately to relieve the suffering. Panic stricken, the Cayuse lost
completely their faith in Whitman’s medicine and turned to their
traditional treatments. A sweat bath, followed by a plunge into the cold
river, practically assured their immediate death.
With the wagons of 1847, a half-breed named Joe Lewis had arrived at
Waiilatpu. Whitman soon learned that Lewis was a troublemaker, but had
no success in getting rid of him. When the epidemic struck, Lewis told
the Cayuse that Whitman was spreading poison in the air to kill off the
tribe. He said that when all the Indians were dead, Whitman was going to
take their lands for himself. The more desperate of the Indians believed
Lewis and decided to rid themselves of the doctor who now seemed a man
of evil design. In this belief, they were encouraged by Nicholas Finley,
another half-breed living near the mission. His lodge, a few hundred
feet from the mission house, became a headquarters for the malcontents.
In the minds of these Cayuse there was no question of their right to
dispose of Dr. Whitman. One of the practices of the tribe for
generations was that if a patient of a medicine man, or _tewat_, should
die, the sick person’s relative could seek revenge by killing the
_tewat_. Since measles was a white man’s disease and since Whitman, a
white doctor, surely knew the cure, they believed that he was
deliberately withholding that cure from them. Their people were dying,
and revenge should be extracted from _tewat_ Whitman.
The Whitmans had long been aware of the dangers that faced them because
of the Indians’ attitude toward medicine. But, with their high sense of
obligation and responsibility, they had threaded their way through the
maze of superstitions, sometimes at great risks, but always with
success—until 1847.
Although the majority of the Cayuse had become concerned with the events
of that autumn, only a few extremists took part in planning an attack on
the mission. As November 1847 drew to a close both the whites at the
mission and the Cayuse leaders knew that a crisis was at hand. This
crisis grew out of a conflict between two groups holding opposing ideas,
each believing itself to be right. The Whitmans believed they were
fulfilling a destiny that God had determined for them. The Cayuse
believed they were doing what was necessary to defend and preserve their
land and their way of life.
_The Massacre_
When Monday, November 29, 1847, dawned cold and foggy in the Walla Walla
Valley, there were 74 people staying at the Waiilatpu mission. Most of
them were emigrants, stopping over on the way to the Willamette Valley.
The mission buildings were crowded almost beyond capacity: 23 people
were living in the mission house; 8 in the blacksmith shop; 29 in the
emigrant house; 12 in the cabin at the sawmill, 20 miles up Mill Creek;
and the 2 half-breeds, Lewis and Finley, were living in lodges on the
mission grounds.
The Whitmans, aware that a crisis was at hand, had discussed what they
should do. Both Marcus and Narcissa rejected the idea of attempting
flight. Dr. Whitman believed that if the Cayuse went on the rampage only
he would be involved and the others would not suffer on his behalf.
Courageously, the missionaries decided to continue administering to the
sick and to attempt to keep peace with the Indians. On that Monday
morning, Marcus treated the ill and officiated at the funeral of an
Indian child. Narcissa, ill and temporarily despondent, remained in her
room until nearly noon, not touching the breakfast brought to her.
[Illustration: Tiloukaikt and Tomahas, Cayuse chiefs who led the
massacre. Paintings by Paul Kane. ROYAL ONTARIO MUSEUM, CANADA]
[Illustration: Tomahas]
After lunch Whitman stayed in the living room, resting and reading.
Narcissa, feeling better, was in the room also, bathing one of the Sager
girls. Throughout the rest of the mission, the duties of the day were
being carried out. Several children were in the classroom where L. W.
Saunders had begun to teach that day after a forced vacation caused by
the measles epidemic. Isaac Gilliland, a tailor, was working in the
emigrant house on a suit of clothes for Dr. Whitman. At the end of the
east wing of the mission house, Peter Hall was busy laying a floor in a
new addition being built that autumn. Out in the yard, Walter Marsh was
running the gristmill, and four men were busy dressing a beef. There
were more Indians than usual gathered about the grounds that day, but it
was thought they had been attracted by the butchering.
Into this scene walked two Cayuse chiefs, Tiloukaikt and Tomahas. They
entered the mission house kitchen and knocked on the bolted door that
led to the living room, claiming they wanted medicine. Dr. Whitman
refused them entry but got some medicine from the closet under the
stairway. Warning Mrs. Whitman to lock the door behind him, he went out
into the kitchen. There, Tiloukaikt deliberately provoked the doctor
into an argument. While the doctor’s attention was thus diverted,
Tomahas suddenly attacked him from behind with a tomahawk. Whitman
struggled to save himself but soon collapsed from the blows.
Mary Ann Bridger, in the kitchen at this moment, dashed out the north
door, ran around the building to the west entrance of the living room,
and cried out in terror, “They have killed father!” John Sager, the
oldest of the seven orphans, was also in the kitchen when the two
Indians fell upon the doctor. John, recovering from the measles, had
been busy preparing twine for new brooms. When the doctor was attacked,
John attempted to reach for a pistol but was assaulted by the Indians
before he could get it. He fell to the floor mortally wounded. At this
time, a shot rang out that was apparently the signal for an attack by
the Indians in the yard.
At the sound of the shot, the Indians dropped their blankets, which had
concealed guns and tomahawks, and began their attack on the men at the
mission. Saunders, the school teacher, was killed while trying to reach
his wife in the emigrant house. Hoffman, one of the butchers, was killed
while furiously defending himself with an ax. Gilliland, the tailor, was
killed in the room where he had been sewing. Marsh was killed working at
the gristmill. Francis Sager, the second oldest of the family, was in
the schoolroom when the attack began. With the other children, he hid in
the rafters above the room. Before long he was discovered by Joe Lewis,
and soon he too was shot and killed.
Two others—Kimball who also was working on the beef, and Andrew Rodgers
who was down by the river—were wounded; but both were able to reach the
mission house where Narcissa let them into the living room. A few
minutes later, Mrs. Whitman, looking though the window in the east door,
saw Joe Lewis in the yard. She called out to him asking if all this was
his doing. Lewis made no reply, but an Indian standing on the schoolroom
steps heard her voice and, raising his rifle, fired. The bullet hit Mrs.
Whitman in the left breast. She fell to the floor screaming but quickly
recovered her composure and staggered to her feet.
Narcissa gathered those about her, including several children and the
two wounded men, and led them upstairs just as the Indians burst into
the living room. In the attic bedroom, a broken, discarded musket was
found, and the refugees used it to fend off the Indians. Finally,
Tamsucky, an old Indian whom the Whitmans had long trusted, convinced
Narcissa that the mission house was about to be burned and that all must
go to the emigrant house for safety.
Narcissa and Rodgers agreed to come downstairs, but for the time being
the children and the wounded Kimball were to stay. At the foot of the
stairs Narcissa caught a glimpse of her husband who now lay dead, his
face horribly mutilated. Shocked and weak from loss of blood, she lay
down upon a settee. Rodgers and Joe Lewis picked up the settee and
carried Mrs. Whitman outdoors. Just beyond the north door of the
kitchen, Lewis suddenly dropped his end of the settee, and a number of
Indians standing there began firing at Narcissa and Rodgers. After her
body had rolled off the couch into the mud, one Indian grabbed her hair,
lifted her head, and struck her face with his riding whip. Mrs. Whitman
probably died quickly, but Rodgers lingered on into the night.
Kimball remained upstairs with the children through the long night. In
the early dawn of Tuesday, he slipped down to the river to get water for
them. But he was discovered by the Indians and killed. On that same day,
unaware of what had happened, James Young drove down from the sawmill
with a load of lumber. He was caught a mile or to from the mission and
slain on the spot. A few days later two more victims were added when the
Indians killed Crockett Bewley and Amos Sales, two sick youths who dared
to openly criticize the Cayuse for the massacre. These two young men
brought the death total to 13.
Peter Hall, the carpenter working on the house, managed to escape when
the Indians attacked. He made his way to Fort Walla Walla where he
received help from the trader, William McBean. Departing from there, he
started across the Columbia River to make his way down the north bank to
Fort Vancouver. But he never arrived. Perhaps he drowned in the
Columbia, perhaps he was caught and killed. Nothing further is known
about him.
A few of the people at the mission made successful escapes. W. D.
Canfield, one of those dressing the beef, managed to hide in the
blacksmith shop until nightfall. Then he set out on foot for Lapwai, 110
miles away. Though he had only a general knowledge of the trail and the
direction, he reached Spalding’s mission on Saturday. But the most
desperate escape was that of the Osborn family. Josiah Osborn, his wife,
and their three children were living in the “Indian Room” of the mission
house. When the attack came, Osborn hid himself and his family under
some loose boards in the floor and escaped detection throughout the
afternoon and evening. Crouched under the floor, they could hear the
groans of the dying and the sounds of looting above their heads.
After the coming of darkness when the rooms above them grew quiet, the
Osborns came out of hiding and made their way silently to the river.
They started walking to Fort Walla Walla, but after a short distance,
Mrs. Osborn, who had just recovered from measles and the loss of a child
at its birth, could not go on. Hiding his wife and two of the children
in the willows, Osborn continued on to the fort where he eventually was
able to get a horse and a friendly Indian to help him. After some
difficulty, he found his family where he had left them and took his wife
and children on to Fort Walla Walla. The Osborns did not reach the
security of the fort until Thursday—after 4 days in the damp cold of an
Oregon autumn. Sick and afraid, all five of the family survived the
ordeal and eventually reached the Willamette Valley.
At Waiilatpu, the Cayuse were exultant. They had destroyed what they
believed had been the cause of all their troubles; once again their
lands would be free from the tracks of wagon wheels and the unfathomable
ideas of the whites.
Their victory was to be but a short respite. Before long, the Cayuse
were to suffer heavily for these deeds. They could not foresee that
Marcus and Narcissa Whitman would be regarded as martyrs by their
countrymen. They did not understand that Americans could and would wreak
a terrible vengeance.
[Illustration: The second great grave, where the Oregon Volunteers
buried the massacre victims in 1848.]
_The Harvest of Violence_
[Illustration: Peter Skene Ogden.]
With the exception of David Malin and the two Manson boys, whom the
Indians allowed to go to Fort Walla Walla, they held all 49 survivors
captive at Waiilatpu. Although most of them suffered greatly from shock
and were fearful of the future, most of the captives were not treated
severely. Three of the older girls were singled out by Indians who
desired them for wives. Especially maltreated was Lorinda Bewley who was
subjected to the unwanted attentions of Five Crows, a chief who had not
participated in the attack and who had long enjoyed many favors from the
Whitmans. During their captivity, two young girls died—Louise Sager and
Helen Mar Meek. Both these children had been critically ill with measles
before the massacre, and it is possible they would have died even with
Dr. Whitman present to care for them.
On Tuesday, the day following the attack, Joe Stanfield dug a shallow,
mass grave near the mission cemetery north of the mission house. On the
same day, Father Brouillet, one of the priests whose arrival in the
vicinity a few weeks earlier had so greatly disturbed Dr. Whitman,
reached Waiilatpu. Horrified by the scene of death and destruction,
Brouillet helped Stanfield prepare the dead. Rendering “to those
unfortunate victims the last service in my power to offer them,”
Brouillet officiated at the burial. A few days later wild animals
disturbed the shallow grave, and it had to be covered again. In March
1848 the remains, which again had been disturbed by wolves, were placed
in a new grave and covered with an upturned wagon bed by the Oregon
Volunteers. On the 50th anniversary of the massacre, the bodies were
disinterred and reburied in a more fitting tomb, where they lie today.
News of the massacre reached Fort Vancouver early in December. Moving
quickly, Chief Factor James Douglas sent Peter Skene Ogden up the
Columbia with a supply of goods to bargain for the release of the
captives. On December 29, one month after the massacre, the prisoners
were exchanged for 62 blankets, 63 shirts, 12 guns, 600 loads of
ammunition, 37 pounds of tobacco, and 12 flints.
None of the other American Board missions were attacked. On January 1,
1848, the Nez Percé escorted the Spaldings to Fort Walla Walla, where
they joined the 49 Waiilatpu survivors for the journey to Willamette.
The Eellses and Walkers continued to live among the Spokan until the
following spring when they, too, left for Oregon City. Thus the
activities of the American Board came to an end in the Pacific
Northwest.
When Gov. George Abernethy, head of the provisional government in Oregon
Territory, heard of the massacre, a company of riflemen was enrolled to
punish the Cayuse. Soon the call was increased to 500 volunteers. At the
end of February the volunteer soldiers reached the Walla Walla Valley.
The Cayuse fled to the mountains north of the Snake River, but the
disorganized and poorly disciplined troops did not pursue them far.
These volunteers stayed at Waiilatpu until early summer. Then, leaving
behind a guard of 50 men at the mission—by now called Fort Waters—the
rest returned home.
After 2 years of wandering and hardships, the Cayuse gave up five of
their men in an effort to make peace with the whites. These five were
arrested for murder and tried by jury in Oregon City. All five were
found guilty (although one of them probably took no part in the
massacre) and were hanged in 1850. There is bitter irony in the fact
that the hangman was Joe Meek, the father of Helen Mar. The Indians’
problems were not solved by the hanging. In fact, the time of troubles
was just starting. For the next generation intermittent Indian wars
plagued the Pacific Northwest; but the Cayuse were never again a source
of real trouble.
At the time that he dispatched the Oregon Volunteers, Governor Abernethy
and the provisional legislature sent emissaries to Washington (led by
Joe Meek) to call attention to the state of affairs in Oregon. News of
the massacre moved Congress to act, and in August 1848 a bill was passed
creating the Territory of Oregon. Thus did Marcus and Narcissa Whitman
serve the Pacific Northwest and their country after death.
Alive, they had striven to prepare the Cayuse for the civilization that
was sure to engulf them. When the emigrants did arrive, the Whitman
mission became a haven in the wilderness for these weary wanderers. The
Whitmans’ deaths had the immediate result of creating the first formal
American territorial government west of the Rocky Mountains. Today, the
story of the Whitmans serves to inspire all people who would pursue the
way of high principles and ideals. Events at Waiilatpu were climaxed
with disaster, but from this tragedy there shines a rare courage,
dedication, and strength that men will ever need.
_Preservation of the Past_
For a brief time in 1848, the Oregon Volunteers occupied the mission in
their unsuccessful campaign to punish the Cayuse. Building an adobe wall
around the mission house, they named it Fort Waters. In 1859 the
Reverend Cushing Eells, the former associate of Dr. Whitman, established
a claim on the former mission site and lived there until 1872, when his
house burned down. His great achievement during these years was the
founding of Whitman Seminary (now Whitman College) in the new community
of Walla Walla, 6 miles east of the mission site.
For the next few generations the land that Dr. Whitman first tilled
continued to be farmed by a number of owners. In 1897, on the 50th
anniversary of the massacre, Mr. and Mrs. Marion Willard Swegle donated
about 8 acres, including the site of the Great Grave and the Memorial
Shaft Hill, to a group of citizens interested in perpetuating that
historic spot. As the 100th anniversary of the Whitmans’ arrival at
Waiilatpu approached, public-spirited citizens initiated efforts to
acquire and preserve the land on which the mission itself had been
located. In 1936 the Whitman Centennial Co. acquired 37½ additional
acres of land, which included the building sites. These two tracts were
donated to the Nation, and on January 20, 1940, Whitman National
Monument was formally established.
In 1961 an additional 45 acres of land were purchased by the Federal
Government, pursuant to an Act of Congress, to permit the proper
development of the monument. In 1962 Congress changed the name of this
area to Whitman Mission National Historic Site.
[Illustration: The great grave today.]