On behalf of the confederate tribes, he made the leading speech in reply to the commissioners. It is thus given by the correspondent of the New York Times:
"You, the commissioners, have come from afar to listen to our grievances. My heart is glad, and I shall hide nothing from you. I understood that you were coming down to see us. I moved away from those disposed for war, and I also came along to see you. The Kiowas and Comanches have not been fighting. We were away down south when we heard, you were coming to see us. The Cheyennes are those who have been fighting with you. They did it in broad daylight so that all could see them. If I had been fighting I would have done it by day and not in the dark. Two years ago I made peace with Generals Harney, Sanborn, and Colonel Leavenworth at the mouth of the Little Arkansas. That peace I have never broken. When the grass was growing in the spring, a large body of soldiers came along on the Santa Fé road. I had not done anything and therefore I was not afraid. All the chiefs of the Kiowas, Comanches, and Arapahos are here today; they have come to listen to good words. We have been waiting here a long time to see you and are getting tired. All the land south of the Arkansas belongs to the Kiowas and Comanches, and I don't want to give away any of it. I love the land and the buffalo and will not part with it. I want you to understand well what I say. Write it on paper. Let the Great Father see it, and let me hear what he has to say. I want you to understand also, that the Kiowas and Comanches don't want to fight, and have not been fighting since we made the treaty. I hear a great deal of good talk from the gentlemen whom the Great Father sends us, but they never do what they say. I don't want any of the medicine lodges [schools and churches] within the country. I want the children raised as I was. When I make peace, it is a long and lasting one—there is no end to it. We thank you for your presents. All the headmen and braves are happy. They will do what you want them, for they know you are doing the best you can. I and they will do our best also. When I look upon you, I know you are all big chiefs. While you are in this country we go to sleep happy and are not afraid. I have heard that you intend to settle us on a reservation near the mountains. I don't want to settle. I love to roam over the prairies. There I feel free and happy, but when we settle down we grow pale and die. I have laid aside my lance, bow, and shield, and yet I feel safe in your presence. I have told you the truth. I have no little lies hid about me, but I don't know how it is with the commissioners. Are they as clear as I am? A long time ago this land belonged to our fathers; but when I go up to the river I see camps of soldiers on its banks. These soldiers cut down my timber; they kill my buffalo; and when I see that, my heart feels like bursting; I feel sorry. I have spoken."
The above is a plain unvarnished statement of facts, such as no Indian on the plains could produce but Satanta. It must be remembered that in cunning or native diplomacy Satanta has no equal. In worth and influence Red Cloud is his rival; but in boldness, daring, and merciless cruelty Satanta is far superior, and yet there are some good points in this dusky chieftain which command admiration. If a white man does him an injury, he never forgives him; but if on the other hand the white man has done him a service, death can alone prevent him from paying the debt. The speech of Satanta caused the commissioners to look rather blank, and when he pictured in his usual graphic manner how he loved his land, his buffalo, and his traditions, there was a world of feeling in his tones, betraying his knowledge of the vast difference between the power of the aggressive pale face and his waning race. A certain dim foreboding of the Indian's fate swept across his mind, and in its passage lit his eyes up with a fierce light, and his voice rose to a pitch of frenzy as he exclaimed: "We don't want to settle—I love to roam over the prairie; there I am free and happy."
His farewell speech, to the commissioners at the conclusion of the treaty is thus noted in the same newspaper:
On this occasion the old chief was accompanied by one hundred of the principal warriors of the Kiowa tribe; and immediately after its close, this tribe, as well as the Comanches, struck camp and left for the Cimarron River in the south. He spoke with a gravity and earnestness that added force to his words. "If," said he, "the treaty bring prosperity to us, we of course will like it the better. If it bring prosperity or adversity, we will not abandon it." He alluded delicately to the fact that the white man often forgot to keep his treaties with the Indian; and then at the close, referring to the treaty just made, he rose to the heights of friendship, offering his heart and his hospitality, and adding: "For your sakes, the green grass shall not be stained with the blood of the whites. Your people shall again be our people, and peace shall be our mutual heritage. Good-bye. You may not see me again. But remember Satanta as the white man's friend." He is spoken of as having a very grave yet musical voice, and at times displays the deepest emotion.
Another who heard him on this occasion says:
The great chief, Satanta, in delivering his address spoke with a dignity and force that could not but be appreciated. He is a great orator and of unbounded influence in the council (Ind. Miscel., xii, 3804—3833).
BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY— SEVENTEENTH ANNUAL REPORT PL. LXII
INSIDE OF SET-T'AIÑTE'S SHIELD.
He is thus described by Keim in 1870: