Chapter XIII: Part 13

I mentioned that this is the nucleus or place of concentration of the numerous tribe of the Sioux, who often congregate here in great masses to make their trades with the American Fur Company; and that on my way up the river, some months since, I found here encamped, six hundred families of Sioux, living in tents covered with buffalo hides. Amongst these there were twenty or more of the different bands, each one with their chief at their head, over whom was a _superior chief_ and leader, a middle-aged man, of middling stature, with a noble countenance, and a figure almost equalling the Apollo, and I painted his portrait (+plate+ 86). The name of this chief is Ha-wan-je-tah (the one horn) of the Mee-ne-cow-e-gee band, who has risen rapidly to the highest honours in the tribe, from his own extraordinary merits, even at so early an age. He told me that he took the name of “One Horn” (or shell) from a simple small shell that was hanging on his neck, which descended to him from his father, and which, he said, he valued more than anything he possessed; affording a striking instance of the living affection which these people often cherish for the dead, inasmuch as he chose to carry this name through life in preference to many others and more honourable ones he had a right to have taken, from different battles and exploits of his extraordinary life. He treated me with great kindness and attention, considering himself highly complimented by the signal and unprecedented honour I had conferred upon him by painting his portrait, and that before I had invited any other. His costume was a very handsome one, and will have a place in my +Indian Gallery+ by the side of his picture. It is made of elk skins beautifully dressed, and fringed with a profusion of porcupine quills and scalp-locks; and his hair, which is very long and profuse, divided into two parts, and lifted up and crossed, over the top of his head, with a simple tie, giving it somewhat the appearance of a Turkish turban.

This extraordinary man, before he was raised to the dignity of chief, was the renowned of his tribe for his athletic achievements. In the chase he was foremost; he could run down a buffalo, which he often had done, on his own legs, and drive his arrow to the heart. He was the fleetest in the tribe; and in the races he had run, he had always taken the prize.

It was proverbial in his tribe, that Ha-wan-je-tah’s bow never was drawn in vain, and his wigwam was abundantly furnished with scalps that he had taken from his enemies’ heads in battle.

Having descended the river thus far, then, and having hauled out my canoe, and taken up my quarters for awhile with mine hospitable host, Mr. Laidlaw, as I have before said; and having introduced my readers to the country and the people, and more particularly to the chief dignitary of the Sioux; and having promised in the beginning of this Letter also, that I should give them some amusing and curious information that we picked up, and incidents that we met with, on our voyage from the Mandans to this place; I have again to beg that they will pardon me for withholding from them yet awhile longer, the incidents of that curious and most important part of my Tour, the absence of which, at this time, seems to make a “hole in the ballad,” though I promise my readers they are written, and will appear in the book in a proper and appropriate place.

Taking it for granted then, that I will be indulged in this freak, I am taking the liberty of presuming on my readers’ patience in proposing another, which is to offer them here an extract from my Notes, which were made on my journey of 1300 miles from St. Louis to this place, where I stopped, as I have said, amongst several thousands of Sioux; where I remained for some time, and painted my numerous portraits of their chiefs, &c.; one of whom was the head and leader of the Sioux, whom I have already introduced. On the long and tedious route that lies between St. Louis and this place, I passed the Sacs and Ioways—the Konzas—the Omahaws, and the Otoes (making notes on them all, which are reserved for another place), and landed at the Puncahs, a small tribe residing in one village, on the west bank of the river, 300 miles below this, and 1000 from St. Louis.

The Puncahs are all contained in seventy-five or eighty lodges, made of buffalo skins, in the form of tents; the frames for which are poles of fifteen or twenty feet in length, with the butt ends standing on the ground, and the small ends meeting at the top, forming a cone, which sheds off the rain and wind with perfect success. This small remnant of a tribe are not more than four or five hundred in numbers; and I should think, at least, two-thirds of those are women. This disparity in numbers having been produced by the continual losses which their men suffer, who are penetrating the buffalo country for meat, for which they are now obliged to travel a great way (as the buffaloes have recently left their country), exposing their lives to their more numerous enemies about them.

The chief of this tribe, whose name is Shoo-de-ga-cha (smoke), I painted at full length (+plate+ 87), and his wife also, a young and very pretty woman (+plate+ 88), whose name is Hee-la’h-dee (the pure fountain); her neck and arms were curiously tattooed, which is a very frequent mode of ornamenting the body amongst this and some other tribes, which is done by pricking into the skin, gunpowder and vermilion.

The chief, who was wrapped in a buffalo robe, is a noble specimen of native dignity and philosophy. I conversed much with him; and from his dignified manners, as well as from the soundness of his reasoning, I became fully convinced that he deserved to be the sachem of a more numerous and prosperous tribe. He related to me with great coolness and frankness, the poverty and distress of his nation; and with the method of a philosopher, predicted the certain and rapid extinction of his tribe, which he had not the power to avert. Poor, noble chief; who was equal to, and worthy of a greater empire! He sat upon the deck of the steamer, overlooking the little cluster of his wigwams mingled amongst the trees; and, like Caius Marius, weeping over the ruins of Carthage, shed tears as he was descanting on the poverty of his ill-fated little community, which he told me “had once been powerful and happy; that the buffaloes which the Great Spirit had given them for food, and which formerly spread all over their green prairies, had all been killed or driven out by the approach of white men, who wanted their skins; that their country was now entirely destitute of game, and even of roots for their food, as it was one continued prairie; and that his young men penetrating the countries of their enemies for buffaloes, which they were obliged to do, were cut to pieces and destroyed in great numbers. That his people had foolishly become fond of _fire-water_ (whiskey), and had given away everything in their country for it—that it had destroyed many of his warriors, and soon would destroy the rest—that his tribe was too small, and his warriors too few to go to war with the tribes around them; that they were met and killed by the Sioux on the North, by the Pawnees on the West; and by the Osages and Konzas on the South; and still more alarmed from the constant advance of the pale faces—their enemies from the East, with whiskey and small-pox, which already had destroyed four-fifths of his tribe, and soon would impoverish, and at last destroy the remainder of them.”

In this way did this shrewd philosopher lament over the unlucky destiny of his tribe; and I pitied him with all my heart. I have no doubt of the correctness of his representations; and I believe there is no tribe on the frontier more in want, nor any more deserving of the sympathy and charity of the government and Christian societies of the civilized world.

The son of this chief, a youth of eighteen years, and whose portrait I painted (+plate+ 90), distinguished himself in a singular manner the day before our steamer reached their village, by taking to him _four wives in one day_! This extraordinary and unprecedented freak of his, was just the thing to make him the greatest sort of _medicine_ in the eyes of his people; and probably he may date much of his success and greatness through life, to this bold and original step, which suddenly raised him into notice and importance.

The old chief Shoo-de-ga-cha, of whom I have spoken above, considering his son to have arrived to the age of maturity, fitted him out for house-keeping, by giving him a handsome wigwam to live in, and nine horses, with many other valuable presents; when the boy, whose name is Hongs-kay-de (the great chief), soon laid his plans for the proud and pleasant epoch in his life, and consummated them in the following ingenious and amusing manner.

Wishing to connect himself with, and consequently to secure the countenance of some of the most influential men in the tribe, he had held an interview with one of the most distinguished; and easily (being the son of a chief), made an arrangement for the hand of his daughter, which he was to receive on a certain day, and at a certain hour, for which he was to give two horses, a gun, and several pounds of tobacco. This was enjoined on the father as a profound secret, and as a condition of the espousal. In like manner he soon made similar arrangements with three other leading men of the tribe, each of whom had a young and beautiful daughter, of marriageable age. To each of the fathers he had promised two horses, and other presents similar to those stipulated for in the first instance, and all under the same injunctions of secrecy, until the hour approached, when he had announced to the whole tribe that he was to be married. At the time appointed, they all assembled, and all were in ignorance of the fair hand that was to be placed in his on this occasion. He had got some of his young friends who were prepared to assist him, to lead up the eight horses. He took two of them by the halters, and the other presents agreed upon in his other hand, and advancing to the first of the parents, whose daughter was standing by the side of him, saying to him, “you promised me the hand of your daughter on this day, for which I was to give you two horses.” The father assented with a “ugh!” receiving the presents, and giving his child; when some confusion ensued from the simultaneous remonstrances, which were suddenly made by the other three parents, who had brought their daughters forward, and were shocked at this sudden disappointment, as well as by the mutual declarations they were making, of similar contracts that each one had entered into with him! As soon as they could be pacified, and silence was restored, he exultingly replied, “You have all acknowledged in public your promises with me, which I shall expect you to fulfil. I am here to perform all the engagements which I have made, and I expect you all to do the same”—No more was said. He led up the two horses for each, and delivered the other presents; leading off to his wigwam his four brides—taking two in each hand, and commenced at once upon his new mode of life; reserving only one of his horses for his own daily use.

I visited the wigwam of this young installed _medicine-man_ several times, and saw his four modest little wives seated around the fire, where all seemed to harmonize very well; and for aught I could discover, were entering very happily on the duties and pleasures of married life. I selected one of them for her portrait, and painted it (+plate+ 89), Mong-shong-shaw (the bending willow), in a very pretty dress of deer skins, and covered with a young buffalo’s robe, which was handsomely ornamented, and worn with much grace and pleasing effect.

Mr. Chouteau of the Fur Company, and Major Sanford, the agent for the Upper Missouri Indians, were with me at this time; and both of these gentlemen, highly pleased with so ingenious and _innocent_ a freak, felt disposed to be liberal, and sent them many presents from the steamer.

The ages of these young brides were probably all between twelve and fifteen years, the season of life in which most of the girls in this wild country contract marriage.

It is a surprising fact, that women mature in these regions at that early age, and there have been some instances where marriage has taken place, even at eleven; and the juvenile mother has been blest with her first offspring at the age of twelve!

These facts are calculated to create surprise and almost incredulity in the mind of the reader, but there are circumstances for his consideration yet to be known, which will in a manner account for these extraordinary facts.

There is not a doubt but there is a more early approach to maturity amongst the females of this country than in civilized communities, owing either to a natural and constitutional difference, or to the exposed and active life they lead. Yet there is another and more general cause of early marriages (and consequently apparent maturity), which arises out of the modes and forms of the country, where most of the marriages are contracted with the parents, hurried on by the impatience of the applicant, and prematurely accepted and consummated on the part of the parents, who are often impatient to be in receipt of the presents they are to receive as the price of their daughters. There is also the facility of dissolving the marriage contract in this country, which does away with one of the most serious difficulties which lies in the way in the civilized world, and calculated greatly to retard its consummation, which is not an equal objection in Indian communities. Education and accomplishments, again, in the fashionable world, and also a time and a season to flourish and show them off, necessarily engross that part of a young lady’s life, when the poor Indian girl, who finds herself weaned from the familiar embrace of her parents, with her mind and her body maturing, and her thoughts and her passions straying away in the world for some theme or some pleasure to cling to, easily follows their juvenile and ardent dictates, prematurely entering on that system of life, consisting in reciprocal dependence and protection.

In the instance above described, the young man was in no way censured by his people, but most loudly applauded; for in this country polygamy is allowed; and in this tribe, where there are two or three times the number of women that there are of men, such an arrangement answers a good purpose, whereby so many of the females are provided for and taken care of; and particularly so, and to the great satisfaction of the tribe, as well as of the parties and families concerned, when so many fall to the lot of a chief, or the son of a chief, into whose wigwam it is considered an honour to be adopted, and where they are the most sure of protection.

LETTER—No. 27.

MOUTH OF TETON RIVER, _UPPER MISSOURI_.

When we were about to start on our way up the river from the village of the Puncahs, we found that they were packing up all their goods and preparing to start for the prairies, farther to the West, in pursuit of buffaloes, to dry meat for their winter’s supplies. They took down their wigwams of skins to carry with them, and all were flat to the ground and everything packing up ready for the start. My attention was directed by Major Sanford, the Indian Agent, to one of the most miserable and helpless looking objects that I ever had seen in my life, a very aged and emaciated man of the tribe, who he told me was to be _exposed_.

The tribe were going where hunger and dire necessity compelled them to go, and this pitiable object, who had once been a chief, and a man of distinction in his tribe, who was now too old to travel, being reduced to mere skin and bones, was to be left to starve, or meet with such death as might fall to his lot, and his bones to be picked by the wolves! I lingered around this poor old forsaken patriarch for hours before we started, to indulge the tears of sympathy which were flowing for the sake of this poor benighted and decrepit old man, whose worn-out limbs were no longer able to support him; their kind and faithful offices having long since been performed, and his body and his mind doomed to linger into the withering agony of decay, and gradual solitary death. I wept, and it was a pleasure to weep, for the painful looks, and the dreary prospects of this old veteran, whose eyes were dimmed, whose venerable locks were whitened by an hundred years, whose limbs were almost naked, and trembling as he sat by a small fire which his friends had left him, with a few sticks of wood within his reach and a buffalo’s skin stretched upon some crotches over his head. Such was to be his only dwelling, and such the chances for his life, with only a few half-picked bones that were laid within his reach, and a dish of water, without weapons or means of any kind to replenish them, or strength to move his body from its fatal locality. In this sad plight I mournfully contemplated this miserable remnant of existence, who had unluckily outlived the fates and accidents of wars to die alone, at death’s leisure. His friends and his children had all left him, and were preparing in a little time to be on the march. He had told them to leave him, “he was old,” he said, “and too feeble to march.” “My children,” said he, “our nation is poor, and it is necessary that you should all go to the country where you can get meat,—my eyes are dimmed and my strength is no more; my days are nearly all numbered, and I am a burthen to my children—I cannot go, and I wish to die. Keep your hearts stout, and think not of me; I am no longer good for anything.” In this way they had finished the ceremony of _exposing_ him, and taken their final leave of him. I advanced to the old man, and was undoubtedly the last human being who held converse with him. I sat by the side of him, and though he could not distinctly see me, he shook me heartily by the hand and smiled, evidently aware that I was a white man, and that I sympathized with his inevitable misfortune. I shook hands again with him, and left him, steering my course towards the steamer which was a mile or more from me, and ready to resume her voyage up the Missouri.[6]

This cruel custom of exposing their aged people, belongs, I think, to all the tribes who roam about the prairies, making severe marches, when such decrepit persons are totally unable to go, unable to ride or to walk,—when they have no means of carrying them. It often becomes absolutely necessary in such cases that they should be left; and they uniformly insist upon it, saying as this old man did, that they are old and of no further use—that they left their fathers in the same manner—that they wish to die, and their children must not mourn for them.

From the Puncah village, our steamer made regular progress from day to day towards the mouth of the Teton, from where I am now writing; passing the whole way a country of green fields, that come sloping down to the river on either side, forming the loveliest scenes in the world.

From day to day we advanced, opening our eyes to something new and more beautiful every hour that we progressed, until at last our boat was aground; and a day’s work of sounding told us at last, that there was no possibility of advancing further, until there should be a rise in the river, to enable the boat to get over the bar. After laying in the middle of the river about a week, in this unpromising dilemma, Mr. Chouteau started off twenty men on foot, to cross the plains for a distance of 200 miles to Laidlaw’s Fort, at the mouth of Teton river. To this expedition, I immediately attached myself; and having heard that a numerous party of Sioux were there encamped, and waiting to see the steamer, I packed on the backs, and in the hands of several of the men, such articles for painting, as I might want; canvass, paints, and brushes, with my sketch-book slung on my back, and my rifle in my hand, and I started off with them.

We took leave of our friends on the boat, and mounting the green bluffs, steered our course from day to day over a level prairie, without a tree or a bush in sight, to relieve the painful monotony, filling our canteens at the occasional little streams that we passed, kindling our fires with dried buffalo dung, which we collected on the prairie, and stretching our tired limbs on the level turf whenever we were overtaken by night.

We were six or seven days in performing this march; and it gave me a good opportunity of testing the muscles of my legs, with a number of half-breeds and Frenchmen, whose lives are mostly spent in this way, leading a novice, a cruel, and almost killing journey. Every rod of our way was over a continuous prairie, with a verdant green turf of wild grass of six or eight inches in height; and most of the way enamelled with wild flowers, and filled with a profusion of strawberries.

For two or three of the first days, the scenery was monotonous, and became exceedingly painful from the fact, that we were (to use a phrase of the country) “out of sight of land,” _i. e._ out of sight of anything rising above the horizon, which was a perfect straight line around us, like that of the blue and boundless ocean. The pedestrian over such a discouraging sea of green, without a landmark before or behind him; without a beacon to lead him on, or define his progress, feels weak and overcome when night falls; and he stretches his exhausted limbs, apparently on the same spot where he has slept the night before, with the same prospect before and behind him; the same grass, and the same wild flowers beneath and about him; the same canopy over his head, and the same cheerless sea of green to start upon in the morning. It is difficult to describe the simple beauty and serenity of these scenes of solitude, or the feelings of feeble man, whose limbs are toiling to carry him through them—without a hill or tree to mark his progress, and convince him that he is not, like a squirrel in his cage, after all his toil, standing still. One commences on peregrinations like these, with a light heart, and a nimble foot, and spirits as buoyant as the very air that floats along by the side of him; but his spirit soon tires, and he lags on the way that is rendered more tedious and intolerable by the tantalizing _mirage_ that opens before him beautiful lakes, and lawns, and copses; or by the _looming_ of the prairie ahead of him, that seems to rise in a parapet, and decked with its varied flowers, phantom-like, flies and moves along before him.

I got on for a couple of days in tolerable condition, and with some considerable applause; but my half-bred, companions took the lead at length, and left me with several other novices far behind, which gave me additional pangs; and I at length felt like giving up the journey, and throwing myself upon the ground in hopeless despair. I was not alone in my misery, however, but was cheered and encouraged by looking back and beholding several of our party half a mile or more in the rear of me, jogging along, and suffering more agony in their new experiment than I was suffering myself. Their loitering and my murmurs, at length, brought our leaders to a halt, and we held a sort of council, in which I explained that the pain in my feet was so intolerable, that I felt as if I could go no further; when one of our half-breed leaders stepped up to me, and addressing me in French, told me that I must “_turn my toes in_” as the Indians do, and that I could then go on very well. We halted a half-hour, and took a little refreshment, whilst the little Frenchman was teaching his lesson to the rest of my fellow-novices, when we took up our march again; and I soon found upon trial, that by turning my toes in, my feet went more easily through the grass; and by turning the weight of my body more equally on the toes (enabling each one to support its proportionable part of the load, instead of throwing it all on to the joints of the big toes, which is done when the toes are turned out); I soon got relief, and made my onward progress very well. I rigidly adhered to this mode, and found no difficulty on the third and fourth days, of taking the lead of the whole party, which I constantly led until our journey was completed.[7]

On this journey we saw immense herds of buffaloes; and although we had no horses to _run_ them, we successfully _approached_ them on foot, and supplied ourselves abundantly with fresh meat. After travelling for several days, we came in sight of a high range of blue hills in distance on our left, which rose to the height of several hundred feet above the level of the prairies. These hills were a conspicuous landmark at last, and some relief to us. I was told by our guide, that they were called the Bijou Hills, from a Fur Trader of that name, who had had his trading-house at the foot of them on the banks of the Missouri river, where he was at last destroyed by the Sioux Indians.

Not many miles back of this range of hills, we came in contact with an immense saline, or “salt meadow,” as they are termed in this country, which turned us out of our path, and compelled us to travel several miles out of our way, to get by it; we came suddenly upon a great depression of the prairie, which extended for several miles, and as we stood upon its green banks, which were gracefully sloping down, we could overlook some hundreds of acres of the prairie which were covered with an incrustation of salt, that appeared the same as if the ground was everywhere covered with snow.

These scenes, I am told are frequently to be met with in these regions, and certainly present the most singular and startling effect, by the sudden and unexpected contrast between their snow-white appearance, and the green fields that hem them in on all sides. Through each of these meadows there is a meandering small stream which arises from salt springs, throwing out in the spring of the year great quantities of water, which flood over these meadows to the depth of three or four feet; and during the heat of summer, being exposed to the rays of the sun, entirely evaporates, leaving the incrustation of _muriate_ on the surface, to the depth of one or two inches. These places are the constant resort of buffaloes, which congregate in thousands about them, to lick up the salt; and on approaching the banks of this place we stood amazed at the almost incredible numbers of these animals, which were in sight on the opposite banks, at the distance of a mile or two from us, where they were lying in countless numbers, on the level prairie above, and stretching down by hundreds, to lick at the salt, forming in distance, large masses of black, most pleasingly to contrast with the snow white, and the vivid green, which I have before mentioned.

After several days toil in the manner above-mentioned, all the way over soft and green fields, and amused with many pleasing incidents and accidents of the chase, we arrived, pretty well jaded, at Fort Pierre, mouth of Teton River, from whence I am now writing; where for the first time I was introduced to Mr. M‘Kenzie (of whom I have before spoken), to Mr. Laidlaw, mine host, and Mr. Halsey, a chief clerk in the establishment; and after, to the head chief and dignitaries of the great Sioux nation, who were here encamped about the Fort, in six or seven hundred skin lodges, and waiting for the arrival of the steamer, which they had heard, was on its way up the river, and which they had great curiosity to see.

After resting a few days, and recovering from the fatigues of my journey, having taken a fair survey of the Sioux village, and explained my views to the Indians, as well as to the gentlemen whom I have above named; I commenced my operations with the brush, and first of all painted the portrait of the head-chief of the Sioux (the one horn), whom I have before spoken of. This truly noble fellow sat for his portrait, and it was finished before any one of the tribe knew anything of it; several of the chiefs and doctors were allowed to see it, and at last it was talked of through the village; and of course, the greater part of their numbers were at once gathered around me. Nothing short of hanging it out of doors on the side of my wigwam, would in any way answer them; and here I had the peculiar satisfaction of beholding, through a small hole I had made in my wigwam, the high admiration and respect they all felt for their chief, as well as the very great estimation in which they held me as a painter and a magician, conferring upon me at once the very distinguished appellation of Ee-cha-zoo-kah-ga-wa-kon (the medicine painter).

After the exhibition of this chief’s picture, there was much excitement in the village about it; the doctors generally took a decided and noisy stand against the operations of my brush; haranguing the populace, and predicting bad luck, and premature death, to all who submitted to so strange and unaccountable an operation! My business for some days was entirely at a stand for want of sitters; for the doctors were opposing me with all their force; and the women and children were crying, with their hands over their mouths, making the most pitiful and doleful laments, which I never can explain to my readers; but for some just account of which, I must refer them to my friends M‘Kenzie and Halsey, who overlooked with infinite amusement, these curious scenes and are able, no doubt, to give them with truth and effect to the world.

In this sad and perplexing dilemma, this noble chief stepped forward, and addressing himself to the chiefs and the doctors, to the braves and to the women and children, he told them to be quiet, and to treat me with friendship; that I had been travelling a great way to see them, and smoke with them; that I was great _medicine_, to be sure; that I was a great chief, and that I was the friend of Mr. Laidlaw and Mr. M‘Kenzie, who had prevailed upon him to sit for his picture, and fully assured him that there was no harm in it. His speech had the desired effect, and I was shaken hands with by hundreds of their worthies, many of whom were soon dressed and ornamented, prepared to sit for their portraits.[8]

The first who then stepped forward for his portrait was Ee-ah-sa-pa (the Black Rock) chief of the Nee-caw-wee-gee band (+plate+ 91), a tall and fine looking man, of six feet or more in stature; in a splendid dress, with his lance in his hand; with his pictured robe thrown gracefully over his shoulders, and his head-dress made of war-eagles’ quills and ermine skins, falling in a beautiful crest over his back, quite down to his feet, and surmounted on the top with a pair of horns denoting him (as I have explained in former instances) head leader or war-chief of his band.

This man has been a constant and faithful friend of Mr. M‘Kenzie and others of the Fur Traders, who held him in high estimation, both as an honourable and valiant man, and an estimable companion.

The next who sat to me was Tchan-dee, tobacco (+plate+ 92), a desperate warrior, and represented to me by the traders, as one of the most respectable and famous chiefs of the tribe. After him sat Toh-ki-ee-to, the stone with horns (+plate+ 93), chief of the Yanc-ton band, and reputed the principal and most eloquent _orator_ of the nation. The neck, and breast, and shoulders of this man, were curiously tattooed, by pricking in gunpowder and vermilion, which in this extraordinary instance, was put on in such elaborate profusion as to appear at a little distance like a beautifully embroidered dress. In his hand he held a handsome pipe, the stem of which was several feet long, and all the way wound with ornamented braids of the porcupine quills. Around his body was wrapped a valued robe, made of the skin of the grizzly bear, and on his neck several strings of _wampum_, an ornament seldom seen amongst the Indians in the Far West and the North.[9] I was much amused with the excessive vanity and egotism of this notorious man, who, whilst sitting for his picture, took occasion to have the interpreter constantly explaining to me the wonderful effects which his oratory had at different times produced on the minds of the chiefs and people of his tribe.

He told me, that it was a very easy thing for him to set all the women of the tribe to crying: and that all the chiefs listened profoundly to his voice before they went to war; and at last, summed up by saying, that he was “the greatest orator in the Sioux nation,” by which he undoubtedly meant the greatest in the _world_.

Besides these _distingués_ of this great and powerful tribe, I painted in regular succession, according to their rank and standing, Wan-ee-ton, chief of the _Susseton band_; Tah-zee-kah-da-cha (the torn belly), a brave of the _Yancton band_; Ka-pes-ka-day (the shell), a brave of the _O-gla-la band_; Wuk-mi-ser (corn), a warrior of the _Nee-cow-ee-gee band_; Cha-tee-wah-nee-chee (no heart), chief of the _Wah-nee-watch-to-nee-nah band_; Mah-to-ra-rish-nee-eeh-ee-rah (the grizzly bear that runs without regard), a brave of the _Onc-pa-pa band_; Mah-to-chee-ga (the little bear), a distinguished brave; Shon-ka (the dog), chief of the _Ca-za-zhee-ta_ (bad arrow points) _band_; Tah-teck-a-da-hair (the steep wind), a brave of the same band; Hah-ha-ra-pah (the elk’s head), chief of the _Ee-ta-sip-shov band_; Mah-to-een-nah-pa (the white bear that goes out), chief of the _Blackfoot Sioux band_; Shon-ga-ton-ga-chesh-en-day (the horse dung), chief of a band, a great conjuror and magician.

The portraits of all the above dignitaries can be always seen, as large as life, in my very numerous Collection, provided I get them safe home; and also the portraits of two very pretty Sioux women (+plate+ 94), Wi-looh-tah-eeh-tchah-ta-mah-nee (the red thing that touches in marching), and (+plate+ 95), Tchon-su-mons-ka (the sand bar). The first of these women (+plate+ 94), is the daughter of the famous chief called Black Rock, of whom I have spoken, and whose portrait has been given (+plate+ 91). She is an unmarried girl, and much esteemed by the whole tribe, for her modesty, as well as beauty. She was beautifully dressed in skins, ornamented profusely with brass buttons and beads. Her hair was plaited, her ears supported a great profusion of curious beads—and over her other dress she wore a handsomely garnished buffalo robe.

So highly was the Black Rock esteemed (as I have before mentioned), and his beautiful daughter admired and respected by the Traders, that Mr. M‘Kenzie employed me to make him copies of their two portraits, which he has hung up in Mr. Laidlaw’s trading-house, as valued ornaments and keepsakes.[10]

The second of these women (+plate+ 95) was very richly dressed, the upper part of her garment being almost literally covered with brass buttons; and her hair, which was inimitably beautiful and soft, and glossy as silk, fell over her shoulders in great profusion, and in beautiful waves, produced by the condition in which it is generally kept in braids, giving to it, when combed out, a waving form, adding much to its native appearance, which is invariably straight and graceless.

This woman is at present the wife of a white man by the name of Chardon, a Frenchman, who has been many years in the employment of the American Fur Company, in the character of a Trader and Interpreter; and who by his bold and daring nature, has not only carried dread and consternation amongst the Indian tribes wherever he has gone; but has commanded much respect, and rendered essential service to the Company in the prosecution of their dangerous and critical dealings with the Indian tribes. I have said something of this extraordinary man heretofore, and shall take future occasion to say more of him. For the present, suffice it to say, that although from his continual intercourse with the different tribes for twenty-five or thirty years, where he had always been put forward in the front of danger—sent as a sacrifice, or _forlorn hope_; still his cut and hacked limbs have withstood all the blows that have been aimed at them; and his unfaltering courage leads him to “beard the lion in his den,” whilst his liberal heart, as it always has, deals out to his friends (and even to strangers, if friends are not by) all the dear earnings which are continually bought with severest toil, and at the hazard of his life.

I acknowledge myself a debtor to this good hearted fellow for much kindness and attention to me whilst in the Indian country, and also for a superb dress and robe, which had been manufactured and worn by his wife, and which he insisted on adding to my +Indian Gallery+ since her death, where it will long remain to be examined.[11]

[6] When passing by the site of the Puncah village a few months
after this, in my canoe, I went ashore with my men, and found the
poles and the buffalo skin, standing as they were left, over the
old man’s head. The firebrands were lying nearly as I had left
them, and I found at a few yards distant the skull, and others of
his bones, which had been picked and cleaned by the wolves; which
is probably all that any human being can ever know of his final and
melancholy fate.

[7] On this march we were all travelling in moccasins, which being
made without any soles, according to the Indian custom, had but
little support for the foot underneath; and consequently, soon
subjected us to excruciating pain, whilst walking according to the
civilized mode, with the toes turned out. From this very painful
experience I learned to my complete satisfaction, that man in a
state of nature who walks on his naked feet, _must_ walk with his
toes turned in, that each may perform the duties assigned to it in
proportion to its size and strength; and that civilized man _can_
walk with his toes turned out if he chooses, if he will use a stiff
sole under his feet, and will be content at last to put up with an
acquired deformity of the big toe joint which too many know to be a
frequent and painful occurrence.

[8] Several years after I painted the portrait of this
extraordinary man, and whilst I was delivering my Lectures in the
City of New York, I first received intelligence of his death,
in the following singular manner:—I was on the platform in my
Lecture-room, in the Stuyvesant Institute, with an audience of
twelve or fourteen hundred persons, in the midst of whom were
seated a delegation of thirty or forty Sioux Indians under the
charge of Major Pilcher, their agent; and I was successfully
passing before their eyes the portraits of a number of Sioux
chiefs, and making my remarks upon them. The Sioux instantly
recognized each one as it was exhibited, which they instantly
hailed by a sharp and startling yelp. But when the portrait of this
chief was placed before them, instead of the usual recognition,
each one placed his hand over his mouth, and gave a “hush—sh—” and
hung down their heads, their usual expressions of grief in case of
a death. From this sudden emotion, I knew instantly, that the chief
must be dead, and so expressed my belief to the audience. I stopped
my Lecture a few moments to converse with Major Pilcher who was by
my side, and who gave me the following extraordinary account of his
death, which I immediately related to the audience; and which being
translated to the Sioux Indians, their chief arose and addressed
himself to the audience, saying that the account was true, and that
Ha-wan-je-tah was killed but a few days before they left home.

The account which Major Pilcher gave was nearly as follows:—

“But a few weeks before I left the Sioux country with the
delegation, Ha-wan-je-tah (the one horn) had in some way been the
accidental cause of the death of his only son, a very fine youth;
and so great was the anguish of his mind at times, that he became
frantic and insane. In one of these moods he mounted his favourite
war-horse with his bow and his arrows in his hand, and dashed off
at full speed upon the prairies, repeating the most solemn oath,
‘that he would slay the first living thing that fell in his way, be
it man or beast, or friend or foe.’

“No one dared to follow him, and after he had been absent an hour
or two, his horse came back to the village with two arrows in its
body, and covered with blood! Fears of the most serious kind were
now entertained for the fate of the chief, and a party of warriors
immediately mounted their horses, and retraced the animal’s tracks
to the place of the tragedy, where they found the body of their
chief horribly mangled and gored by a buffalo bull, whose carcass
was stretched by the side of him.

“A close examination of the ground was then made by the Indians,
who ascertained by the tracks, that their unfortunate chief, under
his unlucky resolve, had met a buffalo bull in the season when
they are very stubborn, and unwilling to run from any one; and
had incensed the animal by shooting a number of arrows into him,
which had brought him into furious combat. The chief had then
dismounted, and turned his horse loose, having given it a couple of
arrows from his bow, which sent it home at full speed, and then had
thrown away his bow and quiver, encountering the infuriated animal
with his knife alone, and the desperate battle resulted as I have
before-mentioned, in the death of both. Many of the bones of the
chief were broken, as he was gored and stamped to death, and his
huge antagonist had laid his body by the side of him, weltering in
blood from an hundred wounds made by the chief’s long and two-edged
knife.”

So died this elegant and high-minded nobleman of the wilderness,
whom I confidently had hoped to meet and admire again at some
future period of my life. (_Vide_ +plate+ 86).

[9] _Wampum_ is the Indian name of ornaments manufactured by the
Indians from vari-coloured shells, which they get on the shores of
the fresh water streams, and file or cut into bits of half an inch,
or an inch in length, and perforate (giving to them the shape of
pieces of broken pipe stems), which they string on deers’ sinews,
and wear on their necks in profusion; or weave them ingeniously
into war-belts for the waist.

Amongst the numerous tribes who have formerly inhabited the
Atlantic Coast, and that part of the country which now constitutes
the principal part of the United States, wampum has been invariably
manufactured, and highly valued as a circulating medium (instead of
coins, of which the Indians have no knowledge); so many strings, or
so many hands-breadth, being the fixed value of a horse, a gun, a
robe, &c.

In treaties, the wampum belt has been passed as the pledge of
friendship, and from time immemorial sent to hostile tribes, as the
messenger of peace; or paid by so many fathoms length, as tribute
to conquering enemies, and Indian kings.

It is a remarkable fact, and worthy of observation in this place,
that after I passed the Mississippi, I saw but very little wampum
used; and on ascending the Missouri, I do not recollect to have
seen it worn at all by the Upper Missouri Indians, although the
same materials for its manufacture are found in abundance through
those regions. I met with but very few strings of it amongst the
Missouri Sioux, and nothing of it amongst the tribes north and
west of them. Below the Sioux, and along the whole of our Western
frontier, the different tribes are found loaded and beautifully
ornamented with it, which they can now afford to do, for they
consider it of little value, as the Fur Traders have ingeniously
introduced a spurious imitation of it, manufactured by steam or
otherwise, of porcelain or some composition closely resembling it,
with which they have flooded the whole Indian country, and sold at
so reduced a price, as to cheapen, and consequently destroy, the
value and meaning of the original wampum, a string of which can now
but very rarely be found in any part of the country.

[10] Several years after I left the Sioux country, I saw Messrs.
Chardon and Piquot, two of the Traders from that country, who
recently had left it, and told me in St. Louis, whilst looking at
the portrait of this girl, that while staying in Mr. Laidlaw’s
Fort, the chief, Black Rock, entered the room suddenly where the
portrait of his daughter was hanging on the wall, and pointing to
it with a heavy heart, told Mr. Laidlaw, that whilst his band was
out on the prairies, where they had been for several months “making
meat,” his daughter had died, and was there buried. “My heart is
glad again,” said he, “when I see her here alive; and I want the
one the medicine-man made of her, which is now before me, that I
can see her, and talk to her. My band are all in mourning for her,
and at the gate of your Fort, which I have just passed, are ten
horses for you, and Ee-ah-sa-pa’s wigwam, which you know is the
best one in the Sioux nation. I wish you to take down my daughter
and give her to me.” Mr. Laidlaw, seeing the _unusually_ liberal
price that this nobleman was willing to pay for a portrait, and
the true grief that he expressed for the loss of his child, had
not the heart to abuse such noble feeling; and taking the painting
from the wall, placed it into his hands; telling him that it of
right belonged to him, and that his horses and wigwam he must take
back and keep them, to mend, as far as possible, his liberal heart,
which was broken by the loss of his only daughter.

[11] Several years since writing the above, I made a visit with
my wife, to the venerable parent of Mr. Chardon, who lives in her
snug and neat mansion, near the City of Philadelphia, where we were
treated with genuine politeness and hospitality. His mother and two
sisters, who are highly respectable, had many anxious questions
to ask about him; and had at the same time, living with them, a
fine-looking half-breed boy, about ten years old, the son of Monsr.
Chardon and his Indian wife, whom I have above spoken of. This fine
boy who had received the name of Bolivar, had been brought from the
Indian country by the father, and left here for his education, with
which they were taking great pains.

LETTER—No. 28.

MOUTH OF TETON RIVER, _UPPER MISSOURI_.

Whilst painting the portraits of the chiefs and braves of the Sioux, as described in my last epistle, my painting-room was the continual rendezvous of the worthies of the tribe; and I, the “lion of the day,” and my art, the _summum_ and _ne plus ultra_ of mysteries, which engaged the whole conversation of chiefs and sachems, as well as of women and children. I mentioned that I have been obliged to paint them according to rank, as they looked upon the operation as a very great honour, which I, as “a great chief and medicine-man,” was conferring on all who sat to me. Fortunate it was for me, however, that the honour was not a sufficient inducement for all to overcome their fears, which often stood in the way of their consenting to be painted; for if all had been willing to undergo the operation, I should have progressed but a very little way in the “_rank and file_” of their worthies; and should have had to leave many discontented, and (as they would think) neglected. About one in five or eight was willing to be painted, and the rest thought they would be much more sure of “sleeping quiet in their graves” after they were dead, if their pictures were not made. By this lucky difficulty I got great relief, and easily got through with those who were willing, and at the same time decided by the chiefs to be worthy, of so signal an honour.

After I had done with the chiefs and braves, and proposed to paint a few of the women, I at once got myself into a serious perplexity, being heartily laughed at by the whole tribe, both by men and by women, for my exceeding and (to them) unaccountable condescension in seriously proposing to paint a woman; conferring on her the same honour that I had done the chiefs and braves. Those whom I had honoured, were laughed at by hundreds of the jealous, who had been decided unworthy the distinction, and were now amusing themselves with the _very enviable honour_ which the _great white medicine-man_ had conferred, _especially_ on _them_, and was now to confer equally upon the _squaws_!

The first reply that I received from those whom I had painted, was, that if I was to paint women and children, the sooner I destroyed _their_ pictures, the better; for I had represented to them that I wanted their pictures to exhibit to white chiefs, to shew who were the most distinguished and worthy of the Sioux; and their women had never taken scalps, nor did anything better than make fires and dress skins. I was quite awkward in this dilemma, in explaining to them that I wanted the portraits of the women to hang _under_ those of their husbands, merely to shew how their women _looked_, and how they _dressed_, without saying any more of them. After some considerable delay of my operations, and much deliberation on the subject, through the village, I succeeded in getting a number of women’s portraits, of which the two above introduced are a couple.

The vanity of these men, after they had agreed to be painted was beyond all description, and far surpassing that which is oftentimes immodest enough in civilized society, where the sitter generally leaves the picture, when it is done to speak for, and to take care of, itself; while an Indian often lays down, from morning till night, in front of his portrait, admiring his own beautiful face, and faithfully guarding it from day to day, to save it from accident or harm.

This _watching_ or _guarding_ their portraits, I have observed during all of my travels amongst them as a very curious thing; and in many instances, where my colours were not dry, and subjected to so many accidents, from the crowds who were gathering about them, I have found this peculiar guardianship of essential service to me—relieving my mind oftentimes from a great deal of anxiety.