James's Account of S. H. Long's Expedition, 1819-1820, part 2

by Edwin James; Stephen H. Long; Thomas Say

On the following morning the Konzas were called to partake of the hospitality of different lodges, whilst the principal men of the village were assembled in council, to deliberate upon the subject of concluding a peace.

At noon the joint and grand council was held in the Crenier's lodge. The Otoes, Missouries, and Ioways took their seats around the apartment, with the Konzas in the centre. Herochshe, whose business it was first to speak, holding the bowl of the calumet in his hand, remained immovable for the space of three-fourths of an hour, when he arose, pointed the stem of the calumet towards each of the three nations successively, then towards heaven, and the earth, after which he stretched out his arm, with the palm of the hand towards the members of the council, moving round with his body so as to present the palm towards each of the members in succession. He then proceeded to shake each individual by the hand, after which he returned to his place, and renewed the motion of the hand as before.

Having performed all these introductory formalities, he stood firm and erect, though perfectly easy and unconstrained, and with a bold expression of countenance, loud voice, and emphatical gesticulation, he thus addressed the council.

"Fathers, brothers, chiefs, warriors, and brave men. You are all great men. I am a poor obscure individual. It has, however, become my duty to inform you, that the chiefs and warriors of my nation, sometime ago, held a council for the purpose of concerting measures, to terminate amicably, the cruel and unwelcome war, that has so long existed between us, and chose me, all insignificant as I am, to {36} bring to you this pipe which I hold in my hand. I have visited your village, that we might all smoke from the same pipe, and eat from the same bowl, with the same spoon, in token of our future union in friendship.

"On approaching your village, my friends and relatives, I thought I had not long to live. I expected that you would kill me, and these poor men who have followed me. But I received encouragement from the reflection, that if it should be my fate to die to-day, I would not have to die to-morrow, and I relied firmly upon the Master of life.

"Nor was this anticipation of death unwarranted by precedent. You may recollect that five winters ago, six warriors of my nation came to you, as I have now done, and that you killed them all, but one, who had the good fortune to escape. This circumstance was vivid in my memory when I yesterday viewed your village in the distance; said I, those warriors who preceded me in the attempt to accomplish this desirable object, although they were greater and more brave than I, yet were they killed by those whom they came to conciliate, and why shall not I share their fate; if so, my bones will bleach near theirs. If, on the contrary, I should escape death, I will visit the bones of my friends. The oldest of my followers here, was father-in-law to the chief of those slaughtered messengers; he is poor and infirm, and has followed me with difficulty; his relatives, also, are poor, and have been long lamenting the loss of the chief you killed. I hope you will have pity on him, and give him a pair of mockasins (meaning a horse) to return home with, for he cannot walk. Two or three others of my companions are also in want of mockasins for their journey homeward.

"My friends! we wish for peace, and we are tired of war; there is a large tract of country, intervening between us, from which, as it is so constantly {37} traversed by our respective hostile parties, we cannot either of us kill the game in security, to furnish our traders with peltries. I wish to see a large level road over that country, connecting our villages together, near which no one can conceal himself in order to kill passengers, and that our squaws may be enabled to visit from village to village in safety, and not be urged by fear, to cast off their packs, and betake themselves to the thickets, when they see any person on the route. Our nations have made peace frequently, but a peace has not hitherto been of long duration. I hope, however, that which we shall now establish will continue one day, two days, three days, four days, five days. My friends! what I have told you is true; I was not sent here to tell you lies. That is all I have to say."

Herochshe then lit his pipe, and presented the stem to the brother of the Crenier, Wa-sac-a-ru-ja, or He who eats raw, who had formerly been his intimate friend. The latter held the end of the stem in his hand, whilst he looked Herochshe full in the face, for a considerable space of time. At length he most emphatically asked, "Is all true that you have spoken." The other, striking himself repeatedly and forcibly upon the breast, answered with a loud voice, "Yes! It is all truth that I have spoken." Wasacaruja, without any further hesitation, accepted the proffered pipe, and smoked, whilst Herochshe courteously held the bowl of it in his hand; the latter warrior then held it in succession to each member of the council, who respectively took a whiff or two, after which the pipe itself was presented to Wasacaruja to retain.

It is impossible to convey an adequate idea of the energy, and propriety, with which this speech was delivered, or of the dignity and self-possession of the speaker. Before he commenced, he hesitated and looked around upon his enemies, probably in order to trace in the lineaments of their countenances, the {38} expression of their feelings towards him. He then began his address, by raising his voice at once to its full intonation, producing a truly powerful effect upon the ear, by a contrast with the deep and long continued silence which preceded it. He was at no loss for subject or for words, but proceeded right onwards to the close of his speech, like a full-flowing, bold, and impetuous stream.

Wasacaruja, in consequence of having first accepted of the calumet, was now regarded as responsible for the sincerity of his friend Herochshe. He therefore arose, and thus addressed the ambassador. "My friend! I am glad to see you on such an occasion as the present, and to hear that your voice is for peace. But I can hardly believe that we can ever rest in a permanent peace. A few winters ago, when we were in friendship with each other, I visited your village, and you gave me all your people, saying, that all the Konzas were mine. But it was not long afterwards, as we hunted near your country, that you stole our horses and killed some of our people, and I cannot but believe that the same course will be again pursued. Nevertheless, I shall again repair to the same place, of which I have spoken, this autumn, for the purpose of hunting, and in the spring I will again visit your town. You observed that you were apprehensive of being killed as you approached our village; and you most probably would have been so, coming as you did, late in the evening, and without the usual formality of sending a messenger to apprize us of your approach, had you not been accompanied by the Big-knife with whom you are so well acquainted. But we have now smoked together, and I hope that the peace thus established, may long continue. You say that you are in want of mockasins, we will endeavour to give you one or two for your journey home. That is all I have to say."