‘My name is In-mut-too-yah-lat-lat (Thunder traveling over the
Mountains). I am chief of the Wal-lam-wat-kin band of Chute-pa-lu or
Nez Percés (nose-pierced Indians). I was born in eastern Oregon,
thirty-eight winters ago. My father was chief before me. When a young
man, he was called Joseph by Mr. Spaulding, a missionary. He died a
few years ago. There was no stain on his hands of the blood of a white
man. He left a good name on the earth. He advised me well for my
people. 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…The first white men of your people who came to our
country were named Lewis and Clarke. They also brought many things
that our people had never seen. They talked straight, and our people
gave them a great feast, as a proof that their hearts were friendly.
These men were very kind. They made presents to our chiefs and our
people made presents to them. We had a great many horses, of which
we gave them what they needed, and they gave us guns and tobacco in
return. All the Nez Percés made friends with Lewis and Clarke, and
agreed to let them pass though their country, and never to make war
on white men. This promise the Nez Percés have never broken. No
white man can accuse them of bad faith, and speak with a straight
tongue. It has always been the pride of the Nez Percés that they were
the friends of the white men. When my father was a young man there
came to our country a white man (Rev. Mr. Spaulding) who talked
spirit law. He won the affections of our people because he spoke good
things to them. At first he did not say anything about white men
wanting to settle our lands. Nothing was aid about that until about
twenty winters ago, when a number of white people came into our
country and built houses and made farms. At first our people made no
complaint. They thought there was room enough for all to live in peace,
and they were learning many things from the white men that seemed to
be good. But we soon found that the white men were growing rich very
fast, and were greedy to possess everything the Indian had. 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 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. Next there
came a white officer (Governor Stevens), who invited all the Nez Percés
to a treaty council. After the council was opened he made known his
heart. He said there were a great many white people in the country,
and many more would come; that he wanted the land marked out so
that the Indians and white men could be separated. If they were to live
in peace it was necessary, he said, that the Indians should have a
country set apart for them, and in that country they must stay. My
father, who represented his band, refused to have anything to do with
the council, because he wished to be a free man. He claimed that no
man owned any part of the earth, and a man could not sell what he did
not own. Mr. Spaulding took hold of my father’s arm and said, “Come
and sign the treaty.” My father pushed him away, and said: “Why do
you ask me to sign away my country? Is it your business to talk to us
about spirit matters, and not to talk to us about parting with our
land.” Governor Stevens urged my father to sign his treaty, but he
refused. “I will not sign your paper,” he said; “you can go where you
please, so do I; you are not a child, I am no child; I can think for
myself. No man can think for me. I have no other home than this. I will
not give it up to any man. My people would have no home. Take away
your paper. I will not touch it with my hand…” Eight years later (1863)
was the next treaty council. A chief called Lawyer, because he was a
great talker, took the lead in this council, and sold nearly all the Nez
Percés country. My father was not there. He said to me: “When you go
into council with the white man, always remember your country. Do
not give it away. The white man will cheat you out of your home. I have
taken no pay from the United States. I have never sold our land.” In
this treaty Lawyer acted without authority from our band. He had no
right to sell the Wallowa (winding water) country. That had always
belonged to my father’s own people, and the other bands had never
disputed our right to it. No other Indians ever claimed Wallowa.In order
to have all the people understand how much land we owned, my father
planted poles around it and said: “Inside is the home of my people- the
white man may take the land outside. Inside this boundary all our
people were born. It circles around the graves of our fathers, and we
will never give up these graves to any man.” The United States claimed
they had bought all the Nez Percés country outside of Lapwai
Reservation, from Lawyer and the other chiefs, but we continued to live
on this land in peace until eight years ago, when white men began to
come inside the bounds my father had set. We warned them against
this great wrong, but they would not leave our land, and some bad
blood was raised. The white men represented that we were going upon
the war-path. They reported many things that were false. The United
States Government again asked for a treaty council. My father had
become blind and feeble. He could no longer speak for his people. It
was then that I took my father’s place as chief. In this council I made
my first speech to white men. I said to the agent who held the council:
“I did not want to come to this council, but I came hoping that we
could save blood. The white man has no right to come here and take
our country. We have never accepted any presents from the
Government. Neither Lawyer nor any other chief had authority to sell
this land. It has always belonged to my people. It came unclouded to
them from our fathers, and we will defend this land as long as a drop
of Indian blood warms the heart of our men.” The agent said he had
orders, from the Great White Chief at Washington, for us to go upon
the Lapwai Reservation, and that if we obeyed he would help us in
many ways. “You must move to the agency,” he said. I answered him: “I
will not. I do not need your help; we have plenty, and we are contented
and happy if the white man will let us alone. The reservation is too
small for so many people with all their stock. You can keep your
presents; we can go to your towns and pay for all we need; we have
plenty of horses and cattle to sell, and we won’t have any help from
you; we are free now; we can go where we please. Our fathers were
born here. Here they lived, here they died, here are their graves. We
will never leave them.” The agent went away, and we had peace for a
little while. Soon after this my father sent for me. I saw he was dying. I
took his hand in mine. He said: “My son, my body is returning to my
mother earth, and my spirit is going very soon to see the Great Chief
Spirit. When I am gone, think of your country. You are the chief of
these people. They look to you to guide them. Always remember that
your father never sold his country. You must stop your ears whenever
you are asked to sign a treaty selling your home. A few years more, and
white men will be all around you. They will have their eyes on this
land. My son, never forget my dying words. This country holds your
father’s body. Never sell the bones of your father and your mother.” I
pressed my father’s hand and told him I would protect his grave with
my life. My father smiled and passed away to the spirit-land. I buried
him in that beautiful valley of winding waters, I love that land more
than all the rest of the world. A man who would not love his father’s
grave is worse than a wild animal. For a short time we lived quietly.
But this could not last. White men had found gold in the mountains
around the land of winding waters. They stole a great many horses
from us, and we could not get them back because we were Indians.
The white men told lies for each other. They drove off a great many of
our cattle. Some white men branded our young cattle so they could
claim them. We had no friend who would plead our cause before the
law councils. It seemed to me that some of the white men in Wallowa
were doing these things on purpose to get up a war. They knew that
we were not strong enough to fight them. I labored hard to avoid
trouble and bloodshed. We gave up some of our country to the white
men, thinking that then we could have peace. We were mistaken. The
white man would not let us alone. We could have avenged our wrongs
many times, but we did not. Whenever the Government had asked us
to help them against other Indians, we have never refused. When the
white men were few and we were strong we could have killed them all
off, but the Nez Percés wished to live in peace. If we have not done so,
we have not been to blame. I believe that the old treaty has never been
correctly reported. If we ever owned the land we own it still, for we
never sold it. In the treaty councils the commissioners have claimed
that our country had been sold to the Government. Suppose a white
man should come to me and say, “Joseph, I like your horses, and I
want to buy them.” I say to him, “No, my horse suit me, I will not sell
them.” Then he goes to my neighbour, and says to him: “Joseph has
some good horses. I want to buy them, but he refuses to sell.” My
neighbour answers, “Pay me the money, and I will sell you Josephs’s
horses.” The white man returns to me, and says, “Joseph, I have
bought your horses, and you must let me have them.” If we sold our
lands to the Government, this is the way they were bought…” I only
ask of the Government to be treated as all other men are treated. If I
can not go to my own home, let me have a home in some country
where my people will not die so fast. I would like to go to Bitter Root
Valley. There my people would be healthy; where they are now they are
dying. Three have died since I left my camp to come to Washington.
When I think of our condition my heart is heavy. I see men of my race
treated as outlaws and driven from country to country, or shot down like animals.
I know that my race must change. We can not hold our own with the white men as
we are. We only ask an even chance to live as other men live.
We ask to be recognized as men. We ask that the same law shall work alike on all men.
If the Indian breaks the law, punish him by the law. If the white man breaks
the law, punish him also. Let me be a free man- free to travel, free to
stop, free to work, free to trade where I choose, free to choose my own
teachers, free to follow the religion of my fathers, free to think and talk
and act for myself- and I will obey every law, or submit to the penalty.
Whenever the white man treats the Indian as they treat each other,
then we will have no more wars. We shall all be alike- brothers of one
father and one mother, with one sky above us and one country around
us, and one government for all. The the Great Spirit Chief who rules
above will smile upon this land, and send rain to wash out the bloody
spots made by brothers’ hands from the face of the earth. For this time
the Indians race are waiting and praying. I hope that no more groans
of wounded men and women will ever go to the ear of the Great Spirit
Chief above, and that all people may be one people.’
Chief Joseph, An Indian’s View of Indian Affairs,
North American Review, April 1879
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