THE INDIANS WEST OF THE MISSISSIPPI.
The Omahaws are said to have formerly been a much larger tribe than they are at present, and a terror to their neighbours, being able to muster not less than a thousand warriors. But in the year 1802, they were attacked by the small-pox, and the tribe was reduced to about three hundred souls. The survivors, unwilling to remain in a place that had proved so fatal to them, burned their village, and became, for a time, a wandering people. But they have since returned to their country, north of the River Platte, and built a village on the southwest bank of the Missouri. The Pancas, having been nearly destroyed by the Sioux, after several removals from the Red River of Lake Winnipeg, joined the Omahaws, and, for a time, were merged in that tribe, but have now resumed their separate existence. These two tribes are allied with the Pawnees, and, some twenty years since, their chiefs accompanied some Pawnees and other Indian warriors to Washington, where Big Elk, the Omahaw chief, thus addressed the President.
“My great father, look at me! look at me, my father! My hands are unstained with your blood; my people have never struck the whites, and the whites have never struck them. It is not the case with other red-skins. Mine is the only nation that has spared the Long Knives. I am a chief, but not the only one in my nation; there are other chiefs who raise their crests by my side. I have always been the friend of the Long Knives, and, before this chief” (pointing to Major O’Fallon) “came among us, I suffered much in support of the whites. I was often reproached for being their friend; but when my father came among us, he strengthened my arms, and I soon towered over the rest.”
In reference to the proposition made him to have people come among them to teach them the arts of agriculture, he said:—“The Great Spirit made my skin red, and he made us to live as we do now; and I believe, that, when the Great Spirit placed us upon this earth, he consulted our happiness. We love our country, we love our customs and habits. I wish that you would permit us to enjoy them as long as I live. When we become hungry and naked; when the game of the country becomes exhausted, and misery encompasses our families; then, and not till then, do I want those good people among us. Then they may lend us a helping hand; then show us the wealth of the earth; the advantages and sustenance to be derived from its culture.”
In the recent report of the Commissioner for Indian Affairs, he says, “The agent states that the Omahaws waited on him, previous to their starting on their summer hunt, and most earnestly begged for arms and ammunition to enable them to defend themselves against their enemies, declaring, ‘If our great father will now furnish us arms and ammunition, we will defend ourselves.’ The agent remarks, further, ‘The Sioux, from all that we can learn, are resolved on exterminating this little band of Indians. Some few days after the visit of the Omahaws, above spoken of, I was called on by an express from the Omahaw camp, asking for the assistance of the troops to defend them against their enemies, and to retake thirty-six horses, which the Sioux had taken in a skirmish, a few days previous.’ He adds, that, ‘until the fierce and bloody war now prosecuted by the Sioux shall subside, it will be in vain to try to prosper the Omahaws in agricultural pursuits.—Owing to the game receding, the Omahaws have to seek food in the more distant prairies, which makes them the more accessible; and unless they can be provided for in agricultural pursuits, where they will be more remote from their harassing enemy, the same fierce and cruel war, in all probability, will continue. The Omahaws have this season returned to their old village, near the Missouri River, and, from present appearances, they will have to abandon it again.’”
The Pawnees own an extensive country on the Great Platte River, lying west of the Otoes and Omahaws. They still retain their fondness for savage life, and keep up among them many of their old customs. Various treaties have been formed with them, but, as yet, they evince no desire for civilization. They are divided into the Grand Pawnees, the Tapage Pawnees, the Wolf Pawnees, or Pawnee Loups, and the Republican Pawnees. They were formerly a numerous nation; but the small-pox being introduced in 1832, by the fur-traders and whisky-sellers, swept off ten thousand or more of them, in a few months, so that they do not now number more than ten or twelve thousand. They are a warlike people, and live in four villages, several miles apart, having their allies, the Omahaws and Otoes, so near them, that they may act in concert in case of invasion. The Pawnee chief who visited Washington, at the time before alluded to, in company with Major O’Fallon, like the Omahaw chief, declined the offer of teachers, on the ground that the Great Spirit made them for the chase, and intended them “to go to war, to take scalps, steal horses, and triumph over their enemies.”
One of the delegation, at this time, was a Pawnee brave, of a noble size, figure, and countenance. At the early age of twenty-one, his heroic deeds acquired for him the rank of the “bravest of the braves.” The following incident was related of him. An unfortunate female of the Paduca nation, as the Camanches are called by them, having been taken prisoner, was destined to torture. The fatal hour arrived; the trembling victim, far from her home and her friends, was fastened to the stake; the whole tribe was assembled on the surrounding plain to witness the awful scene. Just when the funeral pile was to be kindled, and the whole multitude of spectators were excited with expectation, this young warrior, having prepared two fleet horses, with the necessary provisions, sprang from his seat, rushed through the crowd, liberated the victim, seized her in his arms, placed her on one of the horses, mounted the other himself, and made the utmost speed towards the nation and friends of the captive. The multitude, struck dumb and nerveless by the boldness of the deed, made no effort to rescue their intended victim from her deliverer. They viewed it as the immediate act of the Great Spirit, submitted to it without a murmur, and quietly retired to their village. The young chief accompanied the released captive three days, through the wilderness, towards her home. He then gave her the horse on which she rode, with sufficient food for the remainder of the journey, and they parted. On his return to the village, no inquiry was made into his conduct, and no censure was passed on it. Since this transaction, no human sacrifice has been offered in this or any other of the Pawnee tribes, and the practice has been thus abandoned.
On the occasion of the visit of this Pawnee chief to Washington, the young ladies of a seminary in that city, having heard of the anecdote just related, presented him a handsome silver medal, in token of commendation of his noble act in rescuing one of their sex from a cruel death, closing their address with these words:—“Brother, accept this token of our esteem; always wear it for our sakes; and when again you have the power to save a poor woman from death and torture, think of this and of us, and fly to her relief and her rescue.”
His reply was to this effect:—“Sisters, I am glad you have heard of the good deed I have done. I did it partly in ignorance; but your gift makes me feel happy, and enables me more fully to see that I did right. I shall now be even more ready to listen to the words of the white man, for they tell me what is good.”
The following speech of a Pawnee chief was made at Fort Gibson in 1833, and addressed to Mr. Ellsworth, the United States commissioner, on taking leave of him to return home, after having accompanied him on a part of his tour.
“I have travelled with my grandfather many miles on foot. He came to our village. We ran to meet him. We followed him here. We came through many villages of hostile bands, whom we never have met before. All treated us kindly, and peace is made. My heart is glad. I am a wild man, and come naked to follow my grandfather; but I am not ashamed. A bird hovers over her young, and takes care of them; so does our Great Father pity and care for us. I feel now as though I was born again. I used to worship the Great Spirit as my forefathers did; but now I will worship him as the white men do. Every day, when I speak to you, I look to the Great Spirit to help me speak the truth, and what I say is true. I go out alone and speak to the Great Spirit, and ask his aid; but we now look to him together. I am now going home. The wild Indians will be glad to hear how we have been treated by our enemies, and how our great father has spoken to us. Our ears are bored out, and nothing shall be forgotten.”
Mr. Murray, an English gentleman, who travelled among the Indians about eight years since, gives us the following sketch.
“Within twenty or thirty miles of Fort Leavenworth are settled a great variety of Indian tribes, most of them emigrants from the country now inhabited by the whites, especially from the States of Illinois and Michigan. The nearest to the fort are the Kickapoos, who are settled in a village distant from it about four miles. They are a weak and daily decreasing tribe; their natural properties are much changed by constant communication with the whites. There is a Methodist missionary resident among them.
“The fort is supplied with beef and other meat, chiefly by a farmer who lives in the Great Bottom, immediately opposite to it. Among other articles for the supply of the table, one of the most abundant to be met with here, is the cat-fish. I found it somewhat coarse, but not unpalatable eating. These fish are caught, of a most enormous size, and in great quantities, by the settlers on the banks of the river; one of whom told me that he caught four in the course of one morning, weighing above fifty pounds each.
“On the 4th of July, the usual commemoration took place, of firing twenty-four guns; after which ceremony we adjourned to an excellent dinner, and madeira and champagne were the order of the day. We had spent an hour or two in the festivities of the table, when news was brought in that a hundred and fifty Pawnees had arrived, under the guidance of Mr. Dougherty, one of the principal Indian agents; and, upon an invitation from the officers, twelve or fourteen of their chief warriors came into the mess-room. I had already seen many Indians, but none so wild and unsophisticated as these genuine children of the wilderness. They entered the room with considerable ease and dignity, shook hands with us all, and sat down comfortably to cigars and madeira. I was quite astonished at the tact and self-possession of these Indians, two thirds of whom had never been in a settlement of white men before, nor had ever seen a fork, or table, or chair in their lives; yet, without asking questions, or appearing to observe what was passing, they caught the idea with intuitive readiness, and during the whole dinner were not guilty of a single absurdity or breach of decorum.
“The dress of these Indians consisted of a belt of deer-skin round the middle, with a flap passing between the legs, and fastened again to the belt behind. Their legs were covered with tight leggins of deer-skin, and their feet by moccasins; while their shoulders were loosely and gracefully covered, or half covered, by a blanket or buffalo-skin. Most of them had ear-rings, bead-necklaces, and armlets; and the two principal chiefs wore round their necks a large medal each, on which was engraved the head of the late president of the United States. The greater part of them were lusty, and a few even fat, giving no outward evidence of the privations to which their mode of life renders them so liable. Generally speaking, they were of middle height, with fine chests, arms well proportioned, but not muscular, and remarkably fine-shaped legs. I do not think there was a countenance among them that could be pronounced handsome, though several were pleasing and good-humored; but the prevalent character of their expression was haughty, impenetrable reserve, easily distinguishable through the mask of frank conciliation, which their present object rendered it expedient for them to wear.
“As we, in our mirth, sang one or two choral songs, we called upon our red brethren. They rose all at once; and I never shall forget the effect of that first Indian chorus which I ever heard. Each singer began, by strange and uncouth sounds, to work his mind and lungs up to the proper pitch of excitement; and when, at length, their shrill and terrible cry rose to its full height, its effect was astounding, and sufficient to deafen a delicate ear. Then, again, they would allow their strain to fall into a monotonous cadence, to which they kept time with inflections of the head and body, and again burst forth into full chorus of mingled yell and howl.”
During Mr. Murray’s stay among the Pawnees, he witnessed the following scene.
“While I was sitting near my packs of goods, like an Israelite in Monmouth Street, an elderly chief approached, and signified his wish to trade. Our squaws placed some meat before him, after which I gave him the pipe; and, in the meantime, had desired my servant to search my saddle-bags, and to add to the heap of salable articles every thing of every kind beyond what was absolutely necessary for my covering on my return. A spare shirt, handkerchief, and waistcoat were thus draughted; and, among other things, was a kind of elastic flannel waistcoat, made for wearing next to the skin, and to be drawn over the head, as it was without buttons or any opening in front. It was too small for me, and altogether so tight and uncomfortable, although elastic, that I had determined to part with it.
“To this last article my new customer took a great fancy; and he made me describe to him the method of putting it on, and the warmth and comfort of it when on. Be it remembered that he was a very large, corpulent man, probably weighing sixteen stone. I knew him to be very good-natured, as I had hunted once with his son; and, on returning to his lodge, the father had feasted me, chatted with me by signs, and taught me some of that most extraordinary Indian method of communication. He said he should like to try on the jacket; and as he threw the buffalo-robe off his huge shoulders, I could scarcely keep my gravity, when I compared their dimensions with the garment into which we were about to attempt their introduction. However, by dint of great industry and care, we contrived to get him into it. In the body, it was a foot too short, and fitted him so close that every thread was stretched to the uttermost; the sleeves reached a very little way below his elbow. However, he looked upon his arms and person with great complacency, and elicited many smiles from the squaws at the drollery of his attire; but, as the weather was very hot, he soon began to find himself too warm and confined, and he wished to take it off again. He moved his arms,—he pulled the sleeves,—he twisted and turned himself in every direction, but in vain. The woollen jacket was an admirable illustration of the Inferno of Dante and Virgil, and of matrimony as described by many poets; it was easy enough to get into it, sed revocare gradum was a difficult matter indeed. The old man exerted himself till the drops of perspiration fell from his forehead; but had I not been there, he must either have made some person cut it open, or have sat in it until this minute.
“For some time, I enjoyed this scene with malicious and demure gravity, and then I showed him that he must try and pull it off over his head. A lad, who stood by, then drew it till it enveloped his nose, eyes, mouth, and ears; his arms were raised above his head, and for some minutes he remained in that melancholy plight, blinded, choked, and smothered, with his hands rendered useless for the time. He rolled about, sneezing, sputtering, and struggling, until all around were convulsed with laughter; and the squaws shrieked, in their ungovernable mirth, in a manner that I had never before witnessed. At length I slit a piece of the edge, and released the old fellow from his straight-waistcoat confinement. He turned it round often in his hands, and made a kind of comic-grave address to it, of which I could only gather a few words. I believe the import of them was, that it would be a ‘good creature in the ice-month at the village.’ I was so pleased with his good humor, that I gave it to him, and told him to warm his squaw with it in the ice-month.”
Mr. Murray gives us, also, the following sketch.
“On the 6th, I rode out with Captain Hunter to the Kickapoo village, which is about five miles from the fort. The Kickapoos are a branch of the great northern nation of Indians, which includes the Potawatomies, the Chippewas, and other numerous tribes. Their former territory has been bought by the United States, and this tract of country, along the southern bank of the Missouri, allotted in its stead; beside which, the United States engaged to supply them, for a certain time, with a stipulated quantity of provisions, clothes, &c. Living so near the settlements, they have lost most of the traits of their original character, and are a reduced, debased race; nevertheless, they are now interesting in a religious point of view. A miniature Mahomet has arisen among them, and the tribe is divided into two sects, the religious and irreligious; these are pretty equal in number, and the former acknowledge and obey, as secular chief, the prophet who teaches the new creed. This man preaches very good and enlightened morality. He pretends to have seen the Great Spirit in a vision, and to have received his command to proclaim his truths and precepts to the Indians. I should have been astonished at the excellence of his doctrine, and the soundness of his religious views, if I had not learned from a gentleman, long resident among them, the fountain from which he drew his knowledge. It appears, that, when very young, he learned the English language thoroughly, and, in remote parts of the State of Illinois, attended many Christian meetings. He thus became acquainted with the outlines of the Christian scheme, and with the morality which the Bible inculcates; and afterward grafting the knowledge thus acquired upon his Indian prejudices and superstitions, he has used it as an engine of personal aggrandizement, and become priest, prophet, and chief of half his nation.
“I attended a preaching, which was held under a large, open, reed-thatched shed. The meeting was conducted with the greatest decorum; all the men under or near the shed stood uncovered; but in this, as in all the Christian churches that I have seen in any country, the greater part of the assembly were females. Each was supplied with a flat board, on which were carved symbols, which answered the purpose of letters, and enabled them to chime in with the prayer or hymn of the preacher.
“I regretted to find that the officiating preacher was not the ‘great prophet himself,’ but one of his favorite disciples. He was a man of middle age, with a quiet and earnest expression of countenance, and a voice capable of much modulation and variety of tone; he spoke without the slightest hesitation. I placed myself within hearing, and, keeping at my elbow the half-breed French interpreter, took down in pencil the following scraps from his lecture:—‘Look up at the heavens! look around you at the earth fertile with fruit, and the animals given for our use. All these show the goodness of the Great Spirit. If he were not good, much better than any of us, he would be angry with us, for we are all bad, and disobey him; he would punish, and not forgive us. But if we are good and obey him, we are happier and more flourishing here; all goes well with us. We are but half-taught children; we are poor Indians. It is only a few years since we learned his will and commands, through his prophet; but if we ask him, and obey him, we shall daily grow wiser and happier’;—and so on in a similar strain. After this sermon, a hymn was sung. It was a low, melancholy, and not unmusical air, and was rendered wild and peculiar by the closing of each verse in the minor key. I left the scene with strong emotions of interest and compassion, and must own that I entertain hopes, though but faint ones, that this twilight may be the forerunner of the sunrise of the gospel among them.”
There is another tribe of Indians, called Pawnee Picts, who live on the banks of the Red River, in alliance with the Camanches, and are sometimes reckoned as belonging to the Pawnees, though a thousand miles from them. Catlin asserts that “there is no family resemblance, nor any similarity in their language and customs.” Their village is described as being a large one, containing some five or six hundred wigwams. The nation consists of from eight to ten thousand persons. At a council held while Catlin was present, Colonel Dodge restored to them two Pawnee girls, who had been purchased from their captors, the Osages, and received in return a little boy, the son of Judge Martin, whose family had been murdered on the False Washita. On this occasion, “the heart of the venerable old chief seemed to melt at the evidence of the white man’s friendship; he rose on his feet, and, taking Colonel Dodge in his arms, and placing his left cheek against the left cheek of the Colonel, held him for some minutes without saying a word, whilst tears were flowing from his eyes. He then embraced each officer in turn, in the same silent and affectionate manner.” The chief, with two others, accompanied Colonel Dodge to Fort Gibson, and formed a treaty with the United States. Their residence is among the Rocky Mountains.
Close by the Pawnee Picts are the Kioways, who are described as being a fine looking race of men, very tall, some of them being seven feet high, and having a Roman outline of head. They are decidedly distinct from the Pawnee Picts and the Camanches, and also differ from them in language and customs.
The Camanches are supposed to be at least twenty thousand strong. Catlin even estimates them as high as thirty or forty thousand, and says they are able to show some six or seven thousand warriors, well mounted and well armed. They are a very warlike tribe, traversing the immense space of country extending far north and south, and east and west, from the Red River to the Pacific Ocean. They were long the dreaded enemy of the Spaniards, as they now are of the Mexicans, on whom they make frequent incursions, and bear off prisoners, especially female children, whom they adopt and marry. About sixty years ago, the daughter of the governor-general of Chihuahua was stolen by them. The father, by an agent, some weeks after, was allowed to ransom her. But she refused to return to her parents, and sent them word that the Indians had tattooed her face, and given her to be the wife of a young man of their tribe; that her husband treated her well, and had reconciled her to his mode of life. In her present circumstances, therefore, she preferred remaining where she was. She continued in the nation, and raised a family of children.
The Camanches have fought many a bloody battle with their enemies, and have always succeeded in preserving their independence. They particularly excel in catching and taming for use the wild horses of the plains, and form a terrible cavalry in war, particularly as they are able, in a moment, to throw themselves over to the opposite side of the horse, so as to be screened from their enemy, while they can shoot their arrows, either over or under the horse’s neck, with such force as to pierce through a buffalo. They also carry, in war, a shield, and a lance of fourteen feet in length, which they use with great effect. Numerous instances of their intrepidity are on record. The following incident is related by Farnham in his travels. About the middle of June, 1839, a band of fifty or sixty crossed the river in the night, and concealed themselves near where the animals of the establishment were feeding during the day. As they concealed themselves in the bushes, they were not perceived by the Mexican horse-guard, who, after having driven out his charge within reach of the guns of the fort, took his station, as usual, beyond them, holding his horse by a long rope, and suffering him to graze around him. While here on duty, the Indians suddenly rose, and ran towards the animals with horrible yells, seeking to drive them across the river. “The guard, however, nothing daunted, mounted quickly, and drove his horse at full speed among them. The mules and horses, hearing his voice amidst the frightening yells of the savages, immediately started at a lively pace for the fort; but the Indians were on all sides, and bewildered them. The guard still pressed them onward and called for help, and on they rushed, despite of the Indians to the contrary. The battlements were covered with men. They shouted encouragement to the brave guard, ‘Onward, onward!’ and the injunction was obeyed. He spurred his horse to his greatest speed from side to side, and whipped the hindermost of the band with his leading rope. He had saved every animal; he was within twenty yards of the open gate, when he fell; three arrows from the bows of the Camanches had cloven his heart. And, relieved of him, the lords of the quiver gathered their prey, and drove them to the borders of Texas, without injury to life or limb. Thus forty or fifty mules, and their best servant’s life, were lost to the Messieurs Bents in a single day.”
The Appachees are a numerous tribe of Indians, estimated at 20,000, who inhabit the country lower down than the Camanches. But little is known of them. The Eutaws, estimated at 19,200, dwell in the midst of the Rocky Mountains, occupying alternately both sides of the Eutaw or Anahuac range. They are continually migrating from one side to the other, still holding the superstitions of their fathers, though a few of them, principally half-breeds, have embraced the Catholic faith.
The Arrapahoes reside on the western side of the Rocky Mountains, and are said to number about 3,000 souls. They wander, in the winter season, around the head-waters of one branch of the Colorado of the West, and in summer hunt the buffalo farther east. They are said to be a brave, thrifty, and hospitable people. They derive their name, which signifies dog-eaters, from fattening and eating that animal. They admit whites, who desire it, to the privilege of citizenship on certain conditions.
The Shoshonies, or Snakes, reside north of the Arrapahoes, and are also a wandering tribe, who inhabit that part of the Rocky Mountains which lies on the Grand and Green River branches of the Colorado of the West, the valley of the Great Bear River, the habitable shores of the Great Salt Lake, and a tract of country on the Snake River. Some of them subsist principally on roots; while others live on fish. They are said to own many horses, and, from their first acquaintance with the whites, to have been averse to war and cruelty. They have, however, been obliged to fight with the Blackfeet, Crows, Sioux, and Eutaws, to defend portions of their territory; and these tribes have formerly been much accustomed to send parties to rob them of their horses. They are described as being an intelligent race, possessing many domestic comforts, and opposed to immorality. They refuse the use of intoxicating liquor, saying, “It unmans us for the hunt and for defending ourselves against our enemies; it causes unnatural divisions among ourselves; it makes the chief less than his Indian; and by its use, imbecility and ruin would come upon the Shoshonie tribe.”
The Nezpercés and Chinnooks, or Flatheads, with the Skyuse Indians, are found near the mouth and branches of the Columbia River. Catlin thinks the Chinnooks are related to the Choctaws, and tells a tradition of the latter which seems to favor this opinion. The Nezpercés excited much interest a few years ago, in consequence of a delegation which came from them across the Rocky Mountains, saying they had heard from a white man that the religion of the whites was better than theirs, and they would be lost if they did not embrace it, and they came to inquire for teachers. Missionaries were sent among them, who are said to be in some measure successful in their efforts.
The code of laws existing among this tribe, as given in the last report of the Commissioner of Indian Affairs, is very strict, and exhibits a determination on the part of the people to have justice truly administered. Murder and arson are punished with death; the burning of an outbuilding with six months’ imprisonment, fifty lashes, and the payment of all damages. Careless burning of a house subjects the person doing it to the payment of damages.
The Chiens are a small tribe, about 3,000 in number, neighbours to the Sioux on the west. They are a fine race of men, scarcely a man in the tribe being less than six feet in height. They are said to be the richest in horses of any tribe on the continent, living, as they do, where the greatest herds are grazing on the prairies; these they catch in great numbers, and vend to the Sioux, Mandans, and other tribes, as well as to the fur-traders. They are described as dexterous horsemen and fierce warriors, having carried on an unceasing contest with the Pawnees and the Blackfeet.
The Crows are a wandering tribe, usually found in the upper plains around the head-waters of the Great Platte, Snake, and Yellowstone Rivers. They are variously estimated at from 5,500 to 7,000. The general opinion seems to be, that they are the most arrant rascals among the western mountains. The traders say, “They have never been known to keep a promise, or do an honorable act.” No white man or Indian trusts them. Murder and robbery are their principal employments. Catlin is disposed to modify this view of the tribe, though he admits that such is their reputation. He says they are distinguished for their elegant lodges, and their beautiful skin dresses. They are always at war with the Blackfeet, in consequence of which they suffer greatly in battle.
The Blackfeet are a well known numerous and warlike tribe of Indians residing on the branches of the Missouri above the Great Falls. Various estimates have been made of their numbers. Catlin supposes that they may reckon as many as 40,000 or 50,000. In the year 1828, they suffered very severely by the small-pox, which was introduced among them in consequence of their stealing a blanket from the steamboat of the American Fur Company on the Yellowstone, which had belonged to a man who had died of that disease. The infected article, being carried to their encampment upon the left fork of the Missouri, spread the dreadful infection among the whole tribe. They were amazed at the appearance of the disease. The red blotch, the bile, the congestion of the lungs, liver, and brain, were all new to their medicine-men; and the corpse, falling in pieces while they buried it, struck horror into every heart. In their frenzy and ignorance, they increased the number of their sweat-ovens upon the banks of the stream; and whether the burning fever or the want of nervous action prevailed, whether frantic with pain, or tottering in death, they were placed in them, sweated profusely, and plunged into the snowy waters of the river. The mortality which followed this treatment was like that of the great plague in London. They endeavoured for a time to bury the dead, but these were soon more numerous than the living. Mad with superstition and fear, brother forsook sister; father his son; mother her sucking child. They fled to the elevated vales among the western heights, where the influences of the climate, operating on the already well-spent energies of the disease, restored the remainder of the tribe to health. To this hour do the bones of seven or eight thousand Blackfeet lie unburied among the decaying lodges of their deserted village on the banks of the Yellowstone.
The Blackfeet are a ferocious tribe, numbering among their enemies all the nations within their reach. They roam about, seeking their foes wherever they are to be found. To show the hostility of the other tribes to the Blackfeet, Catlin relates the following event as having occurred when he was present. A party of Knistenaux came from the north for the purpose of making their summer’s trade at the station of one of the fur companies; and whilst there, a party of Blackfeet came from the west, also to trade. They encamped on opposite sides of the fort, and spent some weeks together in apparent good-fellowship, their arms, according to the regulation at the fort, being locked up in the arsenal. The Knistenaux had completed their trade, yet loitered about the premises, until all, both Indians and white men, were getting tired of their company, and wished them quietly away. When they were ready to start, with their goods packed on their backs, their arms were given them, and they started, bidding every body, both friends and foes, a hearty farewell. They went out of the fort, and though the party gradually moved off, one of them, undiscovered, loitered about, until he got an opportunity to poke the muzzle of his gun between the pickets. He then fired it at one of the chiefs of the Blackfeet, who stood within a few paces, talking with Mr. McKenzie, and shot him with two musket-bullets through his body! The Blackfeet and the Frenchmen in the fort ran forth with their arms, and, after several shots were exchanged, drove off the Knistenaux, they having lost one man, and having several others wounded.
The Blackfeet are described as of a Herculean make, though of middling stature; they have broad shoulders, and great expansion of chest. They probably acquired their name from the black leggins or moccasins which they wear. They are divided into four bands or families, the Pe-a-gans, of five hundred lodges, the Blackfoot band, of 450 lodges, the Blood band, of 450 lodges, and the Small Robes, of 250 lodges. These four bands comprise about 1,650 lodges, and, probably averaging ten to a lodge, amount to about 16,500 souls. There are also, in the vicinity, the Grosventres des Prairies, 430 lodges; Circees, of 220 lodges; and Cotornés, of 250 lodges. These have languages distinct from each other and from the Blackfeet, yet they seem to be their confederates, and hunt, eat, fight, and intermarry with them.
The Minetarees, a small tribe of about 1,500 souls, reside in three villages, consisting of earth-covered lodges, on the banks of the Knife River, a branch of the Missouri. This people are supposed to be a part of the Crows, who, at some remote period, being cut off by their enemies, and unable to return, threw themselves upon the hospitality of the Mandans, with whom they became, in a measure, joined. In language and customs they are said much to resemble the Crows, though they have also become somewhat assimilated to the Mandans. They have a tradition to the following effect. They came to the vicinity of the Mandans, poor, and without wigwams or horses. They were nearly all women, as their warriors had been killed off in fight; the Mandans would not take them into their village, nor let them come nearer than where they are now living, but they assisted them to build wigwams.
Their chief, Black Moccasin, who treated Lewis and Clarke with great kindness, when they crossed the Rocky Mountains, in 1819, was still living when Catlin was among them, though probably more than a hundred years old. Lewis and Clarke constituted him chief of the tribe, and such has he been ever since. He remembered and inquired very earnestly after Red Hair and Long Knife, as he called those officers, from the fact that one had red hair and the other wore a broadsword. The Minetarees are a bold and daring tribe, often carrying war into their enemies’ country, and thus greatly diminishing their numbers.
Mr. Catlin gives an account of the following scene which occurred while he was with this tribe. “The sensation I created,” says he, “among the Minetarees, while on the Upper Missouri, by taking from amongst my painting apparatus an old number of the New York Commercial Advertiser, edited by my kind and tried friend, Colonel Stone, was extraordinary. The Minetarees thought that I was mad, when they saw me, for hours together, with my eyes fixed upon its pages. They had different and various conjectures about it; the most current of which was, that I was looking at it to cure my sore eyes, and they called it ‘the medicine-cloth for sore eyes.’ I, at length, put an end to this and several equally ignorant conjectures, by reading passages in it, which were interpreted to them, and the object of the paper fully explained; after which, it was looked upon as a much greater mystery than before, and several liberal offers were made me for it, which I was obliged to refuse, having already received a beautifully garnished robe for it from the hands of a young son of Esculapius, who told me, if he could employ a good interpreter to explain every thing in it, he could travel amongst the Minetarees, and Mandans, and Sioux, and exhibit it after I was gone, getting rich with presents, and adding greatly to his list of medicines, as it would make him a great medicine-man. I left with the poor fellow his painted robe and the newspaper; and just before I departed, I saw him unfold it to show some of his friends, when he took from around it some eight or ten folds of birch-bark and deer-skins, all of which were carefully enclosed in a sack made of the skin of a polecat, and undoubtedly destined to become, and to be called, his mystery or medicine-bag.”
The Ricarees are esteemed a part of the tribe of the Pawnees, as their language is nearly the same. They received Lewis and Clarke with great cordiality; but, owing to the abuses which they have suffered from the traders, they now harbour the most inveterate feelings of hostility towards the whole civilized race.
We come now to the Mandans, a tribe, a few years since, numbering about two thousand, but who are said to be now extinct. They appear to have been a remarkable and peculiar people, differing greatly from most other Indians. The impression has prevailed among many individuals who became acquainted with them, that they were the descendants of Madoc, the Welsh chief, who is supposed to have landed on the coast with a colony. This opinion is sustained by Mr. Catlin, who has given a full and interesting account of the peculiarities of the nation. He claims to have traced them up from the banks of the Ohio to their last residence, where he found them. In support of his views, he urges that there is a diversity of complexion among them, some being dark, and some light; that blue and gray eyes are often met with; and that striking resemblances to the Welsh, in language, manners, and customs, are to be found.
The Four Bears.
Dr. Morse, in his Indian Report, tells us that he was informed by a French priest at Detroit, that, in 1793, he was told at Fort Chartres, that twelve years before, Captain Lord, who commanded at this post, had heard some of the old people observe, that the Mandan Indians, who visited the post, could converse intelligibly with some Welsh soldiers in the British army. It is to be regretted that more attention was not devoted to the solution of this interesting question, before the last remnant of this people had become extinct. The account which Mr. Catlin gives of their warriors shows that there were many valiant men among them. The robe of one of their chiefs, called Mah-to-toh-pa, or the Four Bears, by means of its pictured records, set forth that he had been engaged in numerous encounters with the Sioux, Chiens, Ricarees, and Assinniboins. The following is the substance of his adventures. His brother having been killed by a noted Ricaree brave, whose spear was found in his body, he drew out the lance and kept it four years, with the blood dried on its blade. He then, according to an oath he had taken, prepared to avenge his brother’s death, with the spear by which he had fallen. Sallying forth, he brandished the weapon through the village, uttering these words:—“Let every Mandan be silent! Let no one sound the name of Mah-to-toh-pa; let no one ask for him, nor where he is gone, until you hear him sound the war-cry in front of the village; he will then enter it, and show you the blood of Won-ga-tap. The blade of this lance shall drink the heart’s blood of Won-ga-tap, or Mah-to-toh-pa shall mingle his shadow with that of his brother!”
He then directed his course toward the Ricaree village. When he approached it, he loitered about the wigwam of his destined victim, and, looking through the chinks, observed him smoking his last pipe. He saw him retire to bed. The village was silent, and wrapt in darkness. He now crept softly into the lodge, and seated himself by the fire, where he satisfied his appetite from the contents of a pot hanging over it; he then lighted his pipe, after which, stirring up the embers until he clearly saw his way, with lance in hand, he rose and drove it through the body of his enemy. Snatching his scalp from his head, he now darted from the lodge, and hurried across the prairie. The whole village was roused, but no one knew who had dealt the blow. He ran all night, and lay by during the day. On the sixth morning, at sunrise, he entered his village, showing the blood of his victim dried upon his spear, over that of his brother, while the scalp was suspended from the handle of the weapon.
On a certain occasion, a band of one hundred and fifty Chien warriors made an assault on the Mandan village at early dawn, drove off a number of horses, and took one scalp. Mah-to-toh-pa, though a young man, yet, as one of the most valiant of his tribe, pursued with a party of fifty. About noon of the second day, they came in sight of the enemy. Finding them more numerous than was imagined, the Mandans were about to return, when their young leader galloped out in front, and, after wheeling in a circuit, plunged his lance into the ground. The blade was driven up to the hilt. He then made another circuit, tore from his breast his red sash, and hung it on the lance as a flag. He now called out to the retreating Mandans, “What! have we come to this? Have we dogged the enemy three days, and found them, now to go back like cowards? Mah-to-toh-pa’s lance, which is red with the blood of brave men, has led you to the sight of your enemy; it now stands firm in the ground, where the earth will drink its owner’s blood; you may all go back, and Mah-to-toh-pa will fight these warriors alone.”
The Chiens had now turned back to give the Mandans battle, and their leader, admiring the gallant conduct of Mah-lo-toh-pa, galloped forward within hailing distance, and demanded who it was that had thus stuck down his lance, and alone defied his enemies? The answer was, “I am Mah-to-toh-pa, the second in command of the brave and valiant Mandans!” The Chien chief then said, “I have heard often of Mah-to-toh-pa; he is a great warrior. Dares he come forward and fight with me alone, while our warriors look on?” “Is he a chief who speaks to Mah-to-toh-pa?“ was the reply. The Chien answered, “My scalps you see hanging to my horse’s bits; and here is my lance, with the ermine-skins and the war-eagle’s tail.” “It is enough,” said Mah-to-toh-pa.
The Chien chief, mounted on a fierce white horse, now made a circuit at full gallop, and stuck his lance into the ground, leaving it standing by the side of Mah-to-toh-pa’s, and with a red flag also waving from it. They now drew near each other, and discharged their guns. They then passed each other, and, as they wheeled, Mah-to-toh-pa held up his powder-horn, and showed his antagonist that a bullet had shattered it in pieces. He then threw aside his firelock, drew out his bow and an arrow, and hung his shield on his left arm. The Chien did the same, and both dashed on, sending their whizzing shafts at each other in quick succession. Mah-to-toh-pa’s horse received an arrow through the heart, and fell to the ground. The rider sprang to his feet, and was instantly prepared for his antagonist. The Chien dismounted, drove back his horse, and presented his shield, inviting the Mandan to come on. After a few shots from the bow, the Chien held up his empty quiver, and, dashing it with his bow and shield to the ground, drew his knife, and brandished it aloft in air. “Yes!” cried out Mah-to-toh-pa, exultingly, throwing away also his quiver and shield; but, on feeling for his blade, it was missing,—he had not brought it in his belt! He had only his bow in hand, but with this he parried the blows of his assailant, and at last struck him to the ground. After a desperate struggle for the knife, in which the blade was several times drawn through Mah-to-toh-pa’s right hand, he gained possession of it, and plunged it into the heart of the Chien. Holding it up, the Mandan claimed it as his own, and, taking the scalp of his valiant enemy, he departed in triumph.
Such are some of the feats of the Four Bears. But he and his tribe are now no more. In the summer of 1838, the small-pox, that curse of the red race, was introduced among them by the fur-traders. The Mandans were then surrounded by several war-parties of the Sioux, so that they could not scatter into the plains, but were confined to their village. The disease became so malignant, that, after a person was attacked, death ensued in a few hours. Despair and madness seemed to seize upon the people, and a large number destroyed themselves with knives and guns, or by dashing out their brains in leaping headlong from a ledge of rocks in front of their village. None thought of burying their dead, and whole families were left in ghastly heaps in the wigwams.
Mr. Catlin gives the following account of the melancholy fate of Mah-to-toh-pa. “He sat in his wigwam and saw every one of his family die about him,—his wives and his little children. He was attacked with the disease himself, but he recovered. He then walked out, and, passing around the village, wept over the destruction of his tribe. His braves and warriors, whose sinewy arms once seemed to defy danger, were now but as heaps of clay. He came back to his lodge, and covered the bodies of his family in a pile with a number of robes; he threw another around himself, and went out upon a hill at a little distance and sat down. Despite the entreaties of some traders who chanced to be there, he utterly refused to eat. He remained on the earth till the sixth day, when, faint and exhausted, he staggered back to the village, and entered the horrid gloom of his own wigwam. Laying his body down beside the group of his sleeping wife and children, he drew his robe over his face, and, lingering for three days, at last died.”
Thus, in the course of two months, the whole tribe of Mandans perished, with the exception of some thirty or forty, that were taken as slaves by the Ricarees, who moved from their own abodes and took possession of the Mandan village. This remnant of the valiant Mandans could not endure a state of bondage. Some months after they had been reduced to captivity, when the Ricarees were attacked by their enemies, the Sioux, they ran out together upon the prairie, calling to the Sioux to kill them. “We are Ricaree dogs!” said they. “Our friends are dead,—our warriors are no more,—our villages are in the hands of strangers. We will not, we cannot live!” Then, brandishing their weapons in a manner to provoke the enemy, they were all cut in pieces. Not one escaped, and the Mandans are no more. Where is there a sadder page of history than this?