CHAPTER XIX. SITTING BULL—THE IRRECONCILABLE
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 (Tatanka Yotanka, “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)