Among other prominent Indians, this man presents a stern and dramatic
figure. He has been praised and censured, flattered and abhorred; called
brave by some, cowardly by others. He is an anomaly if we judge him by
Departmental standards. More properly, he typifies the Plains spirit of
1840, and he was out of place in the reservation life of 1880–1890.
He bluntly told white people they lied; he refused to accept substitutes
for solemn treaties; he met falsehoods with trickery of his own. He
lived and died a strong, resentful man—his hand against white
domination, even as white men’s hands were against him.
Sitting Bull (_Tata^nka Yota^nka_, “sitting buffalo bull”) was a noted
medicine man, or shaman, of the Sioux Indians. He belonged to the Tetons
and was of the Hunkpapa division. According to the Handbook of American
Indians,[33] he was born in 1834. He presents one of the most
picturesque characters among all our Indians in any period of American
history. He was called Jumping Badger as a boy and manifested a great
deal of ability in buffalo hunting in his extreme youth.
At the age of fourteen he accompanied his father on the warpath against
the Crows, and counted his first coup on the enemy. His name (after
boyhood) was Four Horn, but when he became a medicine man in 1857, his
name was changed to Sitting Bull.
The Handbook presents a brief sketch, part of which I quote.
“He rapidly acquired influence in his own band, being especially
skillful in the character of peacemaker. He took an active part in the
Plains wars of the ’60’s, and first became widely known to the whites in
1866, when he led a memorable raid against Ft. Buford. Sitting Bull was
on the warpath with his band of followers from various tribes almost
continuously from 1869 to 1876, either raiding the frontier posts or
making war on the Crows or the Shoshoni, especially the former. His
autographic pictorial record in the Army Medical Museum at Washington
refers chiefly to contests with the Crows and to horse-stealing. His
refusal to go upon a reservation in 1876 led General Sheridan to begin
against him and his followers the campaign which resulted in the
surprise and annihilation of Custer’s troops on Little Big Horn River,
Montana, in June. During this battle, in which 2,500 to 3,000 Indian
warriors were engaged, Sitting Bull was in the hills ‘making medicine,’
and his accurate foretelling of the battle enabled him ‘to come out of
the affair with higher honor than he possessed when he went into it’
(McLaughlin). After this fight the hostiles separated into two parties.
Sitting Bull, in command of the western party, was attacked by General
Miles and routed; a large number of his followers surrendered, but the
remainder of the band, including Sitting Bull himself, escaped to
Canada, where they remained until 1881, when he surrendered at Ft.
Buford under promise of amnesty and was confined at Ft. Randall until
1883. Although he had surrendered and gone upon a reservation, Sitting
Bull continued unreconciled. It was through his influence that the Sioux
refused to sell their lands in 1888; and it was at his camp at Standing
Rock agency and at his invitation that Kicking Bear organized the Ghost
dance on the reservation. The demand for his arrest was followed by an
attempt on the part of some of his people to rescue him, during which he
was shot and killed. (_See page 124_). Although a chief by inheritance,
it was rather Sitting Bull’s success as an organizer and his later
reputation as a sacred dreamer that brought him into prominence.
According to McLaughlin, “his accuracy of judgment, knowledge of men, a
student-like disposition to observe natural phenomena, and a deep
insight into affairs among Indians and such white people as he came into
contact with, made his stock in trade, and he made ‘good medicine’. He
stood well among his own people and was respected for his generosity,
quiet disposition, and steadfast adherence to Indian ideals. He had two
wives at the time of his death (one of whom was known as Pretty Plume),
and was the father of nine children. His eldest son was called Louis.”
This in brief is an account of his life, but it fails to give a thorough
conception of the man.
He is referred to in many of the War Department reports, between 1800
and 1890. A Mr. W. F. Johnson wrote a book upon his career entitled,
“The Life of Sitting Bull,” in 1891; Major McLaughlin has devoted a
great deal of space to him, as has Mr. Mooney and others.
Sitting Bull’s favorite declaration which he was wont to inflict on
peace commissions from Washington, is an index to the character of the
man: “God Almighty made me. He never made me an agency Indian.”
Attuned to this strong chord, was his whole life. He was not a pleasant
man, and he incurred the dislike of his Agent, Major McLaughlin, and
many others. I do not agree with Major McLaughlin, that Sitting Bull was
altogether a coward. If he had been such, we would not have found him
associated with the hostile element in the later sixties and all through
the seventies. Neither would he have opposed the authorities at the time
of the Ghost dance. He knew that opposition must bring imprisonment, and
probably execution, and it did.
His boyhood, as was that of Red Cloud and other prominent Indians, was
spent among his own people in the chase, about the village, and
occasionally he accompanied war parties.
I suppose that he was present during the Fetterman massacre in 1869, and
the fact that he is not mentioned by Colonel Carrington and other
officers does not necessarily imply that he was absent. Carrington would
naturally record the names of such Indians as he met, and Sitting Bull
was not a man to seek interviews until he became, against his will, a
reservation Indian.
At the Custer fight he made the medicine. I have not presented an
account of the battle of the Little Big Horn, for the reason that
practically every other writer of modern days has mentioned it at
length, and several have devoted chapters to the subject.[34]
He made the medicine for the fight, and I have understood from the Sioux
at Pine Ridge that Sitting Bull sat on a hill, some distance from the
action, and went through with his incantations in plain view of many of
the warriors. McLaughlin states that Sitting Bull and his family fled
when the shooting began. Be that as it may, the success of the fight was
attributed, in no small part, to the efficacy of Sitting Bull’s
medicine, and he became a great man thereafter.
After the Custer fight the Indians separated into two parties, one soon
surrendering to the military, and the other, under Sitting Bull,
continuing fighting. Various army officers pursued them, and Sitting
Bull continued his flight towards the north, to escape capture. The
pursuit by General Miles occupied some time and the Indians were
continually harassed, and driven here and there, until finally they
found an asylum in Canada. Toward the close of the seventies a
Commission was appointed to visit him, and persuade Sitting Bull and his
followers to return to this country. In view of the dislike on the part
of our authorities toward him, it is incomprehensible that they should
seek his return. He was very abrupt in his treatment of the Commission,
and publicly shook hands with Her Majesty’s representatives and declined
to return to this country.
His later life was much embittered by his confinement at Fort Randall,
contrary to the promise made him.
Sitting Bull possessed a grim humor. He knew more of our ways than he
admitted, and always availed himself of the opportunity to get the
better of white people. McLaughlin tells this story:—
“He was not a nice character, Sitting Bull; he took what looked good to
him, whether it was a woman or property of other sort, and he was not in
any sense typical of his people. I never heard that he had a
love-affair, and the measure of the man was shown when Bishop Marty
tried to induce him to put away one of his wives. He went to see the
Bishop, who was visiting the missions. The Bishop pointed out to him the
evil of his ways, and the bad influence he exerted among the people,
finally asking him if he would not put away one of his wives. Sitting
Bull was crafty.
“‘You think that I should put away one wife and that would be good?’ he
asked.
“‘It would, and the woman would be taken care of. You should keep only
your first wife.’
“‘But I cannot put one away; I like them both and would not like to
treat them differently.’
“The Bishop admitted that it might be hard, but one should be put away;
the second wife.
“‘But I could put them both away without injuring either one,’ said
Sitting Bull.
“‘You could do that,’ was the reply of the good man, thinking he was
making some headway.
“‘The black gown is my friend,’ rejoined Sitting Bull, ‘and I will do
this for him; I will put away both my wives, and the black gown will get
me a white wife.’
“The Bishop gave him up as incorrigible, and the old chief retained both
his wives to the end.”[35]
In 1883 a Congressional Commission composed of Honorable H. L. Dawes,
John A. Logan, Angus Cameron, John T. Morgan and George G. Vest, visited
Standing Rock agency to investigate conditions. There had been great
discontent because of the failure of the Government to fulfill the
stipulations set forth in the treaty of 1808 (See pages 103–104.) Most
of the Indians, while mindful of their rights, exhibited no ill will
toward the Government, although they were insistent that the cattle and
goods promised them be forthcoming and were rather against the further
division of the reservation. After the conference had been in session a
day or two, the Chairman said to the interpreter, “Ask Sitting Bull if
he has anything to say to the Committee.”
The Committee, having the services of excellent interpreters, we may
assume that what followed is a literal translation of Sitting Bull’s
words. As they are very interesting, and the mind responsible for the
utterance of these words was the mind of an Indian who lived in the
past, I reproduce the conversation in full.
SITTING BULL: “Of course I will speak to you if you desire me to do
so. I suppose it is only such men as you desire to speak who must
say anything.”
THE CHAIRMAN: “We supposed the Indians would select men to speak for
them, but any man who desires to speak, or any man the Indians here
desire shall talk for them we will be glad to hear if he has
anything to say.”
SITTING BULL: “Do you not know who I am, that you speak as you do?”
THE CHAIRMAN: “I know that you are Sitting Bull, and if you have
anything to say we will be glad to hear you.”
SITTING BULL: “Do you recognize me; do you know who I am?”
THE CHAIRMAN: “I know you are Sitting Bull.”
SITTING BULL: “You say you know I am Sitting Bull, but do you know
what position I hold?”
THE CHAIRMAN: “I do not know any difference between you and the
other Indians at this agency.”
SITTING BULL: “I am here by the will of the Great Spirit, and by his
will I am a chief. My heart is red and sweet, and I know it is
sweet, because whatever passes near me puts out its tongue to
me;[36] and yet you men have come here to talk with us, and you say
you do not know who I am. I want to tell you that if the Great
Spirit has chosen anyone to be the chief of this country it is
myself.”
THE CHAIRMAN: “In whatever capacity you may be here today, if you
desire to say anything to us we will listen to you; otherwise we
will dismiss this council.”
SITTING BULL: “Yes; that is all right. You have conducted yourselves
like men who have been drinking whiskey, and I came here to give you
some advice.” (Here Sitting Bull waved his hand, and at once the
Indians left the room in a body).[37]
A little later, some of the Indians having told Sitting Bull that he had
treated the Committee very harshly and should apologize, he appeared and
made a much longer speech. In this he asked for many things; he pointed
out that the Whites were responsible for the destruction of the
buffalo—the Indians’ means of sustenance. He seemed to be aware that his
speech had caused ill feeling for his opening sentences are:—
“I came in with a glad heart to shake hands with you, my friends, for I
feel that I have displeased you; and I am here to apologize to you for
my bad conduct and to take back what I said. I will take it back because
I consider I have made your hearts bad. I heard that you were coming
here from the Great Father’s house some time before you came, and I have
been sitting here like a prisoner waiting for some one to release me. I
was looking for you everywhere, and I considered that when we talked
with you it was the same as if we were talking with the Great Father;
and I believe that what I pour out from my heart the Great Father will
hear. What I take back is what I said to cause the people to leave the
council, and want to apologize for leaving myself. The people acted like
children, and I am sorry for it. I was very sorry when I found out that
your intentions were good and entirely different from what I supposed
they were. Now I will tell you my mind and I will tell everything
straight. I know the Great Spirit is looking down upon me from above and
will hear what I say, therefore I will do my best to talk straight; and
I am in hopes that some one will listen to my wishes and help me to
carry them out. I have always been a chief, and have been made chief of
all the land. Thirty-two years ago I was present at councils with the
white man, and at the time of the Fort Rice council I was on the prairie
listening to it, and since then a great many questions have been asked
me about it, and I always said wait; and when the Black Hills council
was held, and they asked me to give up that land, I said they must wait.
I remember well all the promises that were made about that land because
I have thought a great deal about them since that time. Of course I know
that the Great Spirit provided me with animals for my food, but I did
not stay out on the prairie because I did not wish to accept the offers
of the Great Father, for I sent in a great many of my people and I told
them that the Great Father was providing for them and keeping his
agreements with them, and I was sending the Indians word all the time I
was out that they must remember their agreements and fulfill them, and
carry them out straight. When the English authorities were looking for
me I heard that the Great Father’s people were looking for me too. I was
not lost. I knew where I was going all the time. Previous to that time,
when a Catholic priest called ‘White Hair’ (meaning Bishop Marty) came
to see me, I told him all these things plainly. I meant to fulfill, and
did fulfill; and when I went over into the British possessions he
followed me, and I told him everything that was in my heart, and sent
him back to tell the Great Father what I told him; and General Terry
sent me word afterwards to come in, because he had big promises to make
me, and I sent him word that I would not throw my country away; that I
considered it all mine still, and I wanted him to wait just four years
for me; that I had gone over there to attend to some business of my own,
and my people were doing just as other people would do. If a man loses
anything and goes back and looks carefully for it he will find it, and
that is what the Indians are doing now when they ask you to give them
the things that were promised them in the past; and I do not consider
that they should be treated like beasts, and that is the reason I have
grown up with the feelings I have. Whatever you wanted of me I have
obeyed, and I have come when you called me. The Great Father sent me
word that whatever he had against me in the past had been forgiven and
thrown aside, and he would have nothing against me in the future, and I
accepted his promises and came in; and he told me not to step aside from
the white man’s path, and I told him I would not, and I am doing my best
to travel in that path. I feel that my country has gotten a bad name,
and I want it to have a good name; it used to have a good name; and I
sit sometimes and wonder who it is that has given it a bad name. You are
the only people now who can give it a good name, and I want you to take
good care of my country and respect it. When we sold the Black Hills we
got a very small price for it, and not what we ought to have received. I
used to think that the size of the payments would remain the same all
the time, but they are growing smaller all the time. I want you to tell
the Great Father everything I have said, and that we want some benefit
from the promises he has made us; and I don’t think I should be
tormented with anything about giving up any part of my land until those
promises are fulfilled—I would rather wait until that time, when I will
be ready to transact any business he may desire. I consider that my
country takes in the Black Hills, and runs from the Powder River to the
Missouri; and that all of this land belongs to me. Our reservation is
not as large as we want it to be, and I suppose the Great Father owes us
money now for land he has taken from us in the past. You white men
advise us to follow your ways, and therefore I talk as I do. When you
have a piece of land, and anything trespasses on it, you catch it and
keep it until you get damages, and I am doing the same thing now; and I
want you to tell all this to the Great Father for me. I am looking into
the future for the benefit of my children, and that is what I mean, when
I say I want my country taken care of for me. My children will grow up
here, and I am looking ahead for their benefit, and for the benefit of
my children’s children, too; and even beyond that again. I sit here and
look around me now, and I see my people starving, and I want the Great
Father to make an increase in the amount of food that is allowed us now,
so that they may be able to live.”[38]
In Sitting Bull’s speech, we have the thoughts and the desires of the
native Indian. It is the speech of a strong man. Omitting much that
followed, I desire to state that General Logan replied in a severe
manner to Sitting Bull.
There is a great deal of good advice in Logan’s speech. It indicates the
domination the authorities wished to exercise over the Indians. On page
82 of the report the following words occur:—“Here the interpreter said
that Two Bears desired to say a few words to the Committee, and
permission was given.” This would indicate that the Committee dominated
and had the right to designate such Indians as should speak, or withhold
permission from those who desired to talk. Most white men’s councils are
foreign to Indian methods of council. Where the white man sought to make
of the council a one-sided affair, friction was quite certain to
develop.
However, the Commission did what it could for the Indians and made a
very voluminous report to Congress.
There were numberless peace conferences in the early days, and we do not
lack Congressional committees at the present time, and with such an
Indian as Sitting Bull, most any of them might have had trouble.
McLaughlin himself found Sitting Bull a pretty handful, and much of his
dislike of the Indian is probably entirely justified.
Sitting Bull was never an agency Indian. He lived in the past. He was
tolerant of the white man and his ways because he was compelled to
subsist on the bounty of the white man. His own son, Crow Foot, believed
in his father’s medicine and died with him. Truly, greater proof of
faith could not be produced.
If Sitting Bull had been as cowardly as McLaughlin states, he would
rather have surrendered. Instead, he fought his way to Canada. He would
have spent his days on the reservation, meekly accepting whatever the
authorities wished to dole out to him. But he was the incarnation of the
fighting spirit of the Sioux. I think that a man possessed of the
ability of Sitting Bull, under different environment, would have become
an Indian Bismarck. He was a man of blood and iron, and accustomed to
scenes of bloodshed. He was unscrupulous—so was Bismarck—he tried to
lead his followers into action; although the cause for which he fought
was well-nigh hopeless. He realized that one person cannot single-handed
fight a regiment, yet he often fought when his support was meagre. He
brooded over the past greatness of his people. He saw little good in the
white race. If we are to judge Sitting Bull by our standards, we must
consider him a “bad Indian.” If we are to analyze Sitting Bull as a
Sioux of the old type, a man who desires to have our Government fulfill
its obligations, and having established certain Indians upon a tract of
land the boundaries of which are definitely defined, expects them to
live there and enjoy peace, liberty and happiness, Sitting Bull was
right. Sitting Bull could not fathom the intricacies and the duplicity
of the average white man’s mind. During his stormy career, he had met
more bad than decent white men. He had faith in the medicine of his
fathers, and he lived and died in that faith. He was consistent in his
belief and consistent in his hatred to the end.
He had been dissatisfied with life at Standing Rock, where those who
sought to cultivate the good will of the Superintendent carried stories
of his doings. Doubtless these lost none of their force in the
transmission. He could not dance, visit his relatives or friends at a
distance, because of continual espionage. To a man of strong feelings
this was intolerable and hastened the end. He believed all were against
him. “They have taken our game, our lands, our health, and now they take
our religion.” Well might he have said these words—as did another
prominent Indian.
So he broke his peace-pipe—deliberately. All his followers saw him. He
had kept it since his return from Canada in 1881. But now it was
destroyed. This was equivalent to saying to Washington, “I break with
you.” The word was carried to McLaughlin, and the police redoubled their
watch. The end came speedily and the curtain fell upon the last act of
Sitting Bull’s life.
A parallel between Sitting Bull and Geronimo is easily drawn. They were
not pleasant persons. They rendered an eye for an eye and a tooth for a
tooth, and by so doing they won more than did the leaders of the
California, or the Chippewa bands, whose last days have been pathetic in
the extreme.
The times in which Sitting Bull lived, and the incidents surrounding him
were such as will produce an unscrupulous, crafty, and cruel man. Yet,
with all of that, we must admit that he was a great man and that the
words of his prediction were verified—he never became a reservation
Indian.
* * * * *
After writing this chapter, the proofs were sent to my friend Dr.
Eastman. His reply is interesting.
AMHERST, MASS., SEPT. 30, 1914
Dear Mr. Moorehead:
I have read with interest your chapter on Sitting Bull. You are
right in believing that he was present at the Fetterman fight. In
regard to the Custer fight, I have carefully compared many stories
of Indians who were there, including several of my own relatives.
Sitting Bull did not run away, neither was he “making medicine” at
the time. He was on the Reno side of the fight at the first, and
later, when Custer appeared, was heard in a loud voice urging the
young men to be steady, etc. Most certainly I agree with you that he
was no coward, and do not agree with Major McLaughlin in his
estimate of Sitting Bull’s character. According to all my
researches, he was no medicine man, but a statesman, one of the most
far-sighted we have had, and as such I have represented him in my
study of his career, which has not yet been published. In his early
days, he won distinction as a warrior. After he came in from Canada,
his character was ruined by the humiliation to which he was
subjected, followed by his exhibition all over this country and
Europe by “Buffalo Bill,” and being lionized and his photographs and
autographs sold, etc. Then he was brought back to the agency and
again humiliated, and crushed by the Agent until he was both spoiled
and embittered. The weakest thing he ever did was to take up the
Ghost dance craze, which led to his death.
As to Red Cloud’s warriors, it must be remembered that the number of
Indians engaged in a fight with U. S. troops is nearly always
exaggerated in the military reports. They have no means of counting
the warriors, and their estimates are more than liberal, for obvious
reasons. At the Custer fight, for example, not more than 1,400
warriors were probably present.
You are welcome to use any or all of this letter in your book. I
wish to say that I like the tone of your work very much and agree
with most of what you say. I do not desire to idealize Sitting Bull,
but what he did, and the conditions of the period, and the Indians’
own estimate of him at the time, will tell their own story. It is
not the story of an Indian Agent, or an Indian on the reservation
who is very apt to say things to soothe the savage white man’s ear
for the favor he may receive.
Yours sincerely,
CHARLES A. EASTMAN
(OHIYESA)
-----
Footnote 31:
Mrs. Jackson’s “Century of Dishonor,” page 183.
Footnote 32:
Commissioner of Indian Affairs, Report 1890, page 49; 1891, pages 125,
410.
Footnote 33:
Handbook, Vol. II. p. 583.
Footnote 34:
Consult Writings of Doctor Eastman, Doctor Joseph K. Dixon, Major
James McLaughlin, Mrs. George A. Custer, Colonel Richard I. Dodge,
etc.
Footnote 35:
A My Friend The Indian, p. 65.
Footnote 36:
That his heart was “good.” He was a firm believer in signs.
Footnote 37:
The power of the man is here exhibited.
Footnote 38:
Senate Report, No. 283, 48th Congress, 1st Session, pp. 79, 80, 82.