Saga of Chief Joseph

by Helen Addison Howard

  3

  Thunder-rolling-in-the-mountains

  Taken from Lapwai before he received more than a primary education in Spalding’s school, little Joseph’s knowledge came from lessons taught him by the experiences of his daily life. Under his father’s guidance he learned how to hunt the creatures of the forest and to fish the streams for salmon, and how to ride a pony without saddle or bridle. He could imitate the calls of birds and animals, and he acquired an intimate knowledge of their habits. He learned to fashion spears and knives, arrows and quivers, and other weapons of war. From the red fir he made a spear with barbed stone points to be used for hunting the buffalo when he grew older and stronger. He learned to watch for the roots of plants that provided food and medicine. This training developed his senses to a keen alertness, and fitted him for a life of economic self-sufficiency.

  Nor was his spiritual development overlooked. From the tribal myths and legends (akin to the moral lessons of Aesop’s Fables), little Joseph learned that selfishness and greed were great sins. Under the gentle teaching of his father, he learned to share his food, even to his last morsel, with the poor, and never wantonly to destroy animals nor plants, but to kill only when in need. His father taught him respect for the wisdom of his elders, and always to be thankful for the bounteous gifts of the Great Spirit.

  After he had grown to manhood, Young Joseph said regarding his spiritual training:

  Our fathers gave us many laws, which they had learned from their fathers. These laws were good. They told us to treat all men as they treated us; that we should never be the first to break a bargain; that it was a disgrace to tell a lie; that we should speak only the truth; that it was a shame for one man to take from another his wife, or his property without paying for it. We were taught to believe that the Great Spirit sees and hears everything, and that he never forgets; that hereafter he will give every man a spirit-home according to his deserts: if he has been a good man, he will have a good home; if he has been a bad man, he will have a bad home. This I believe, and all my people believe the same.1

  In this statement of his creed we may recognize the golden-rule philosophy of Christian precept, and the influence on Young Joseph’s father of the Reverend Henry Spalding’s missionary teaching.

  As the years rolled on there were new additions to the family of Young Joseph. Tu-eka-kas returned to the polygamous beliefs of his people, and in addition to his first wife, Arenoth, he married Walla Walla Woman, Cayuse Woman, and Ip-as-ship-ap-la-chon-my. In time the lodge resounded to the laughter of the seven children of his wives.

  Before the Whitman Massacre in 1847 diplomats in Washington and London were making decisions regarding the future of the Pacific Northwest, which were vitally to affect the destiny of the Nez Perce Indians. All that region then known as the Oregon country, and now comprising the states of Washington and Oregon, Idaho, western Montana and Wyoming was claimed by the United States by right of discovery, the Lewis and Clark explorations, and settlement by American emigrants. This vast territory had hitherto been shared with the British through the joint-occupation treaty of 1818. Mutual dissatisfaction with this agreement arose, and “Fifty-four Forty or Fight” became the ominous slogan of the American people. But a pacifistic English parliament and the United States government, occupied in a war with Mexico, averted armed hostilities by arbitration. The dispute was amicably settled by the compromise treaty of June 15, 1846, which placed the international boundary along the forty-ninth parallel. And so the Nez Perces became wards of the white chief at Washington instead of subjects of the king.

  Two years later, in 1848, the Territory of Oregon was established, with the new governor being inaugurated on March 3, 1849. The lands of Tu-eka-kas’ band were, without the old chief’s consent, embraced in this territory, and his people were made subject to the jurisdiction of the federal government.

  More important to Young Joseph at this time than these epochal events was the ceremony of the sacred vigil, the most momentous experience in a Nez Perce’s life. Every child eagerly looked forward to the time when he could earn his name by divine revelation. Should he, a future warrior, fail to earn it through the rites of the sacred vigil, the men would give him a derisive name and he would thus become the object of the tribe’s ridicule. The stigma of such a disgrace could only be removed by a heroic deed of war. So boys and girls between nine and ten years of age awaited a propitious day when their fathers should send them to hold a tryst with the Great Spirit.

  When little Joseph reached the proper age, his father sent for him. Here again documentary evidence is lacking, but certain it is that Young Joseph performed the ceremony of the sacred vigil, since it was obligatory for every Nez Perce child to do so. With grave earnestness the chief impressed upon his son the importance of the vigil. Tu-eka-kas cautioned him of danger from wild animals. The boy did not fear them, since he knew that all Nature was the handiwork of the Great Spirit. Flowers, trees, birds, and animals were His children, so surely one need have no fear of the cougar, the wolf, or the bear.

  In obedience to his father’s instructions, the lad stripped himself of his clothes, and without weapons, set out from the lodge early in the morning. Leaving the comfort and safety of the village behind, Young Joseph first journeyed across meadowland where he passed flowers in full bloom, ripening berries, and cool streams. Then he began to climb a steep ridge through a forest of pine, fir, and cedar. After several hours he came out on the summit. Here, on a rocky ledge near a clump of evergreens, he prepared to hold communion with the Great Spirit. If he had a good heart, his prayers would be answered. Perhaps the revelation would win him a place in the Wolf clan, whose members enjoyed special hunting favors from the Spirit Father.

  He made a rude bed of fir boughs and sat cross-legged upon them to begin his vigil. Far below him lay the gleam of winding waters, sparkling in the sunlight. On the banks of one river he could see the buffalo-hide lodges of his father’s village. He closed his eyes, the better to concentrate in prayer to Tah-Mah-Ne-Wes, the Spirit Chief.

  As darkness came on and the mountain air grew chill, Young Joseph made a small fire, although he was forbidden to eat or drink during the ceremony. In the forest around him deer grazed on the grassy slopes, and during the night hours mountain lions slunk among the trees, stalking their prey. Stout of heart and with patience the little watcher sat facing the flames. Except occasionally to place fresh wood on the fire, he remained as motionless as the stones around him. At intervals from the shadows of the forest the low, weird “hoo, hoo” of an owl came to him. Once in a while he heard the crackling of leaves and the brittle sound of dead branches being snapped as deer climbed the ridge to feed in the moonlight. But these sounds did not disturb the boy’s concentration.

  Finally the night hours passed, and the sun god mounted high into the heavens. Still Young Joseph sat, resisting sleep as long as possible, while his tongue grew parched and his stomach craved food, yet he prayed more fervently. The fast slowly weakened him, until he could no longer resist Nature’s demand for sleep. He fell into troubled slumbers and dreamed his big medicine dream.

  Three Eagles, an educated Nez Perce, gives a description of what Young Joseph probably saw in his vision as he dreamed that thunder appeared to him:

  He sees a man coming, and goes to him. He appears to be a man wrapped in a yellow blanket, and he gives the boy whatever he may be carrying. The little boy, if he could be seen now, would be found lying as if dead. When he awakens he may think, “I met a man.” That is all he would remember.2

  Joseph awoke, feeling somewhat refreshed, and started back to his father’s lodge, having been absent several days. A great peace filled his soul, and joy lightened his heart. Never again would he know that peace which comes to one who has communed with his God, bringing with it an ethereal calmness after a great emotional experience. The boy repeated the words of the sacred song which the Great Spirit had taught him while he slept. When the proper time came, he would chant the mysti
c words to his people, so that they might know the name the Spirit Father had bestowed on him. The full dream, though, would remain forever unrevealed, since it represented the most sacred experience of his life.3

  When he arrived at his father’s lodge, Young Joseph took a purifying bath and then ate sparingly of food. Afterwards he dropped into untroubled sleep, knowing he had successfully passed his tribe’s test of its youth.

  Young Joseph kept the words of the mystic song a secret throughout the summer and fall months. On a winter’s day when the Wal-lam-wat-kins were encamped in the Imnaha Valley, the voice of the herald rang out through the village: “People, lay everything aside, for now we are going to have a dance of the Guardian Spirit.” This ritual was held to bring Nature, people, and animals into close friendly relations, to promote better hunts, and to bring warm weather.

  For hours the Indians busied themselves in preparing their finest clothes for the religious rites. In the evening they gathered in the dance tent, a huge lodge sixty feet long and fifty feet wide. Two fires, with smoke curling up thirty feet to the ridgepole, warmed the tent for the ceremonies of Wee’ kwetset.4

  After the people had taken their places, a warrior started his dance and song without the accompaniment of a drum. Soon the others joined him in singing the words. They slowly shuffled their feet, keeping rhythmic time with their voices. As he chanted and crouched, partly covered by a wolfskin, the brave imitated the fierce growls of the wolf, and by the movements of his body faithfully mimicked the actions of that animal whose name he bore. Soon the dancer worked himself into a state of ecstasy, half religious and half hypnotic. In the flickering light from the flames, the scene took on a weird, barbaric, and dramatic reality.

  When Young Joseph’s turn came, he stepped forward within the circle of his tribespeople and sang the mystic words that the Spirit Chief had taught him. His studied movements revealed that Tah-Mah-Ne-Wes had blessed him with the name of Hin-mut-too-yah-lat-kekht, meaning “Thunder-rolling-in-the-mountains.”5 That was an auspicious name, for it offered the protection of Nature, so necessary to one who would become a chieftain. But the full dream would remain locked in Joseph’s soul for all time.

  Part II

  Treaty History

  4

  The Council Smoke of 1855

  There were enough settlers in the Northwest by 1853 to warrant an additional territorial government, and so Congress created the Territory of Washington out of the Old Oregon country. It embraced all the land from the forty-second parallel northward to the forty-ninth parallel, and westward from the crest of the Rockies to the Pacific Ocean. The confines of the new territory excluded the present state boundaries of Oregon, and any land which in the future might be set aside through treaties as Indian reservations. Washington thus comprised the land north from the Columbia River to the Canadian border, and from the Pacific Ocean to what is now the northern strip of Idaho south to the Snake River, and the western part of Montana to the summit of the Rockies just east of Butte.

  Major Isaac I. Stevens of the U. S. Army, then thirty-four years of age, was appointed the first governor of the new territory. His duties included the superintendency of Indian affairs. What a task faced the new executive! Congress, by the Donation Acts, urged American settlers to take up any piece of land they desired, regardless of whether it was claimed by the Indians. The governor immediately organized the Indian Service and appointed agents for the tribes east and west of the Cascade Mountains.

  Meanwhile, the ford of the Grande Ronde River in the valley of that name, which was fifteen or twenty miles west of Wallowa Valley, had become the favorite trading place of the Nez Perces and the emigrants traveling the Oregon Trail. By the time the latter had reached this point on their transcontinental journey, their cattle and horses were worn out. Knowing that fresh ones were desired by the whites, Tu-eka-kas and his people traded their animals for the larger and heavier stock of the emigrants. An Indian pony in good condition commanded in exchange several jaded horses, or a good gun with ammunition. To their discomfiture the settlers learned that the Nez Perces could outsmart a Yankee when it came to horse trading.

  The travel-worn animals thus procured by Tu-eka-kas and other chiefs were left to rest for months before being offered in trade to later emigrants. These horses from the East and stallions of Arabian descent, which had been captured in raids upon the Spanish settlements of California,1 were much sought after by the pioneers. Consequently, they brought more in exchange than ordinary Indian ponies. The Nez Perces used the better grade of American stock to improve the blood lines of their herds, which increased with much rapidity both in numbers and in quality. Some of the chiefs boasted of owning two thousand or more horses, in addition to their herds of cattle. Among other tribes and among white settlers the Nez Perces became noted for their numerous well-bred horses—a possession that counted heavily in their favor during the war of 1877.2

  Chief Tu-eka-kas at first welcomed American emigrants to his country, for he believed they would teach his people the good things of civilization. Only a few remained to settle in the Wallowa region though, as most of them were bound for the rich coastal valleys of western Oregon and Washington. The cupidity and greed exhibited by those who stayed soon aroused the old chief’s distrust.

  Despite his early faith in the white man, Tu-eka-kas had a canny insight into human nature. Says his son:

  My father was the first to see through the schemes of the white men, and he warned his tribe to be careful about trading with them. He had suspicion of men who seemed so anxious to make money. I was a boy then, but I remember well my father’s caution. He had sharper eyes than the rest of our people.3

  It was inevitable that friction should occur between the Indians and the pioneers who were pouring into the Columbia Basin. Governor Stevens, foreseeing grave trouble in the future, asked Congress for appropriations to negotiate treaties with all the tribes of the Northwest, for the purpose of placing the Indians on certain defined reservations. In spite of discouraging delays the governor, by his vigorous efforts, finally convinced Congress of the necessity for such action.

  Stevens believed that a treaty to segregate the two races would prevent any ruptures in the peaceful relations between the Nez Perces and the Americans. Prior to this time they had ever been friendly to white men. But serious complications threatened if the Nez Perces, the largest and most powerful nation in the Northwest, should become hostile as were the Cayuse and Klickitat and Yakima tribes. The governor hoped to pacify these belligerent Indians and to hold the friendship of the Nez Perces by a treaty that would be fair to both races, before any dangerous uprisings should occur.

  With the thought of peace uppermost in his mind, Stevens sent James Doty to all the representative Columbia River chiefs, asking them to meet the governor’s party for a big powwow in the latter part of May, 1855. Chief Kamiakin of the Yakimas chose Walla Walla, the ancient council ground of the tribes, as the meeting place.

  Tu-eka-kas accepted the invitation and with a large delegation from his band set out for the council. The two boys, Joseph, then around fifteen, and his brother Alokut, doubtless accompanied their father and mother. The Nez Perces arrived at the conference more promptly than any other tribe. At that, they did not reach Walla Walla until May 24, four days after the time appointed by Governor Stevens.

  Next to arrive, after several days’ delay, were the Cayuses; then came the Walla Wallas, the Umatillas, and the Yakimas. All tribes but the Palouses were represented. Five thousand Indians and a mere handful of white officials, attended by a military escort of forty-seven dragoons under Lieutenant Archibald Gracie, were present at the council. It was probably the greatest peace gathering of Indians ever held in the West.

  Besides Governor Stevens there were present his thirteen-year-old son, Hazard, General Joel Palmer, secretaries James Doty and William C. McKay, Agents R. R. Thompson, R. B. Metcalfe, R. H. Crosby, N. Olney, and R. H. Lansdale, Packmaster C. P. Higgins, the army esc
ort, and interpreters William Craig, N. Raymond, Matthew Danpher, and John Flette. Additional interpreters appointed by the government included A. D. Pambrun, John Whitford, James Coxie, and Patrick McKensie. Two Catholic missionaries, Fathers Chirause and Pandosy, attended the council. The whites—military, aides, and settlers—numbered about one hundred.

  The council ground was pleasantly situated on the right bank of Mill Creek, about six miles above the Whitman mission, in the fertile Walla Walla Valley, surrounded by rolling hills covered with grass and sage. As the different tribes arrived, their lodges were raised on the plain, until a veritable city of tepees stood along the creek.

  To impress the white officials, the Nez Perces spent hours painting themselves and their ponies with streaks of yellow, white, and crimson before they approached the council ground. Gaily bedecked then with bright beads, plumes, and warbonnets, and resplendent in gaudy paint, the Nez Perces, twenty-five hundred strong, presented an impressive sight when they came in view.

  The magnificent cavalcade of more than a thousand braves, naked except for breechclout, their brown bodies striped in garish colors, thundered across the prairie on sleek ponies. As they galloped two abreast toward the mound where the governor’s party stood in review, the column suddenly halted and formed a long line across the plain. Again they charged forward. With considerable trepidation Stevens and his aides observed that the warriors were armed with shields, lances, knives, and guns.

  Lieutenant Kip, who was a guest of the escort, vividly describes the scene:

  When about a mile distant they halted, and half a dozen chiefs [including Lawyer] rode forward and were introduced to Governor Stevens and General Palmer, in order of their rank. Then on came the rest of the wild horsemen in single file, clashing their shields, singing and beating their drums as they marched past us. Then they formed a circle and dashed around us, while our little group stood there, the center of their wild evolutions. They would gallop up as if about to make a charge, then wheel round and round, sounding their loud whoops until they had apparently worked themselves up into an intense excitement.4