What a parody is this on our national history! We boast of a father of his country who always told the truth. The Indian knows our Government by the name of “Washington,” and the Indian says “Washington always lies.” Gen. Stanley has said: “When I think of the way we have broken faith, I am ashamed to look an Indian in the face.” Gen. Harney said to the Sioux in 1868: “If my Government does not keep this agreement, I will come back and ask the first Indian I meet to shoot me.” (Bishop Whipple in Faribault Democrat, Jan. 5, 1877.) Gen. Harney does not revisit the Sioux.
We have stolen from the Indians; we are stealing from them all the time. I do not speak of the lordly robbery, in which the strong possesses himself of the lands, and if occasion serve, of the home of the weak, and justifies it by the right of the stronger. I speak of the petty stealing of the thief. Three years ago there came past my home a long procession of Indian ponies. Where did they come from? They were the property of the Sioux on the reservations west of us. In the face of the ordinance of 1789, which expressly declares that their lands and property shall never be taken, nor their liberties invaded, except in lawful wars authorized by Congress, in violation of the terms of their treaties, and in disregard of the express declaration of the President in response to the telegram of the agent, “Tell the friendly Indians that they shall be protected in their persons and property,” their ponies were gathered and driven off by officers of the army acting under orders. The Indians were left without their only means of transportation for fuel or food, and no redress has ever been secured. No inventory of individual personal property was kept, and the stolen ponies were scattered through Minnesota, and what were left sold for a song in St. Paul.
Gen. Crook has recently said that the Sioux of the Red Cloud and Spotted Tail bands have been robbed during the past winter and spring of over a thousand ponies, which robbery the army, under the new posse comitatus act, is powerless to prevent. (Letter of June 19, 1879, in New York Tribune.)
What I am saying must not be understood as an arraignment of the officers of the army, or indeed of the chief officials of the Government. The army officers have been almost without an exception the firm friends of the Indian, and none have borne more emphatic testimony to their bad treatment than such generals as Sherman, Harney, Stanley, Augur, Howard, Pope and Crook. The latter said the other day, in response to the remark that it was hard to be called to sacrifice life in settling quarrels brought about by thieving contractors, “I will tell you a harder thing. It is to be forced to fight and kill Indians when I know they are clearly in the right.” The responsibility is with the representatives of the people, with Congress.
But to return to the indictment. We have forced the Indians to break the law by placing them under conditions in which it was not possible for them to obey the law and live. This can be proven by the records of many of the Indian reservations when we have attempted to shut them in on lands where starvation was inevitable. Of my own knowledge I can speak of a reservation on which some 1,700 Indians were commanded to remain where there was barely food for a grasshopper, and where in the month of September the little children begged the passer for food, and the dogs were the picture of famine. We have debauched their women. Remember that an Indian has no standing in our courts, and it is easy to see what contact with the whites means to him and his family. He has no redress when his home is violated; and the knowledge of his helplessness makes him the prey of every libertine, until on the distant plains the proximity of a Government post is a sign of his misery. (General Carrington construed this remark to apply to army officers, and corrected it publicly. That was not its intent. The officers of the army are gentlemen. The fort brings into the neighborhood of the Indians and offers more or less of shelter to many men of a very different stamp.)
We have not stopped short of murder. The record is a long and bloody one. The details of the Custer massacre are still fresh in your minds. The nation stood still and lifted up its hands in horror at the disaster which in a moment had annihilated every man of a large detachment of U.S. troops, not sparing their noble and brilliant leader. But where was the real “Custer massacre”? Go back to 1868, to where, under the shadow of Fort Cobb, on land assigned to them by the United States, stood a small Indian village. Its chief was Black Kettle, a man whose name was a by-word among his fellows for cowardice, because he could not be induced to fight the whites—a man of whom Gen. Harney said, “I have worn the uniform of the United States for fifty-five years; I knew Black Kettle well; he was as good a friend of the white man as I am.”
He had been to the commandant of the post seeking protection for himself and his people, because troops were in the neighborhood. Four days afterwards Gen. Custer surrounded that village, and although the Indians fought with desperation, not a man, woman or child escaped alive. Gen. Custer doubtless believed he had fallen upon a hostile camp. Was the mistake any the less terrible? Was the butchery any the less shocking? The blood of innocent Indians on the Wischita cried unto God, and the answer came in the deluge of blood on the Rosebud. * * * *
But you ask, has this been the history of our other Indian wars?
Our first war with the Sioux was in 1852 to 1854. For thirty years it had been the boast of the Sioux that they had never killed a white man. How did the war begin? A Mormon emigrant train crossing the plains lost a cow, which a band of Sioux, who were living in the neighborhood in perfect peace, found and took. The Mormons discovering this, made complaint at Fort Laramie, and a lieutenant with a squad of soldiers was sent to recover the lost property. It could not be found. It was already assimilated into Indian. But the Indians offered to pay for it. This the lieutenant refused to accept, demanding the surrender of the man who had taken the cow for punishment. The Indians said he could not be found; whereupon—will it be believed?—the lieutenant ordered his troops to fire, and the Indian chief fell dead. Those troops never fired again; they were killed in their tracks; and this was the beginning of the great Sioux war which cost the Government forty millions of dollars and many lives. (Speech of President Seeley, of Massachusetts, in Congress, April 13, 1875.)
You know the story of the Sioux war in Minnesota—the withheld appropriations, the taunts and the starvation. We need not open that terrible chapter again.