[From the New York Herald,
1873; story by Edward Fox]
Herald
Headquarters.
Fairchild’s Ranch, February 22, 1873.
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he weather has moderated slightly during the past few days,
and a warm sun has cleared the low lands of their white and fleecy covering,
substituting the most unromantic slush. The Peace Commission are busy in the
discharge of their duties and hold mysterious talks together, which result in
more work for the clerk, Captain Oliver E. Applegate, who left his reservation
at Yainax in order to devote his services to the cause of peace. The settlers
in this neighborhood have not much confidence in the Peace Commission, and
openly assert that the Indians will not talk with either Meacham or Applegate,
as both these men have broken faith with them before. In justice to Meacham,
however, I believe he states that he is not responsible for their being starved
on the reservation, as, though he was Superintendent of Indian Affairs, the
agent on the reservation was Captain Knapp and he had charge of them.
Some time was lost here arranging to send in a messenger, but
at last a Klamath [woman], Matilda, the wife of Bob Whittle, and the Modoc
[woman] Artena were sent off last Thursday morning with the following message:—
That the President of the United States, General Grant, had heard
about the war and was very sorry his children were fighting. He looked upon all
the people, of every color, as his children, and he did not want them to spill
each other’s blood. He thought this might have been a misunderstanding between
the whites and the Indians, and he wanted to see about it. That he was trying
to have a new kind of law made that would do away with war, and that’s why he
said “Stop until we talk awhile.” Then he sent a man, A. B. Meacham, all the
way from Washington, and another man, Samuel Case, that was a friend to Indians
and acquainted with their character, to have a talk. They must not mistake the
reason why he “done” it, and think that he was weak or a coward, or think that
he was whipped, because he was not. The soldiers were beyond the Indians’ power
in number; if he had to fight and had not enough here he could send enough; he
never failed to win in war; that he would rather settle it without blood.
Matilda was instructed to deliver the above message and to
talk with the Indians, ascertain their feelings and see if they were willing to
have a talk. They both started about eleven o’clock, Artena in her war paint,
with a white handkerchief tied round her head, and Matilda in a neat-fitting
red dress, with a white cloth tied round her chest. Matilda was evidently a
little nervous as to the result of her mission, as she was afraid she would
find the Indians rather wild, and, although she is related to some of them, her
brother was fighting against them in the last battle. She, however, was gifted
with the indomitable Indian pluck, and started off to make good her promise,
but first left all her jewels and trinkets with her husband, in case she should
not come out again. As soon as these emissaries of peace had fairly started,
the ravens around the camp-fire began to croak as to the danger they would
encounter and spun yarns about the visit of One-eyed Dixie—how they licked her
when she went in, although she was closely related to many of the leading [men]
and sister of the charming Mrs. Shack Nasty Jim.
This ranch is now filled with attachés of the Indian
Department, as we have Captain Free [possibly Captain D. J. Ferree, A. B. Meacham’s
brother-in-law], one of the contractors supplying the Yainax Agency; Captain
Oliver E. Applegate, Indian Agent and Commissary at Yainax; Captain Ivan
Applegate, late Interpreter and Messenger; Mr. Samuel Case, Peace Commissioner
and Indian Agent at Alsea Reservation; Mr. A. B. Meacham, Peace Commissioner
and ex-Superintendent of Indian Affairs in Oregon, and some others. Mr. Jesse
Applegate, the other Peace Commissioner, is also here, and General Canby and
Aide-de-Camp Captain Anderson have their quarters in the same building. The
rest of our party consists of a newspaper correspondent, settlers and the
vaqueros attached to the ranch.
Accommodations are rather limited, as about fourteen occupy
the floor of one room, fifteen feet square; seven sleep in an adjoining
apartment, nine by fifteen, and General Canby and staff have an adjoining shed
about eight feet square. We have two meals per diem, one at eight A.M. and the
other at four P.M. These meals are decidedly simple in their nature, and are
served with a fair allowance of dirt. The sugar bowl is an article of
antediluvian extraction, coated with a brown crust of dirt, which has
accumulated by its constant service during the past few years without being
introduced to water. Although the proprietor of this ranch, Captain Fairchild—a
very good fellow, by the way—is the happy possessor of over three thousand head
of cattle, the lacteal produce of the bovine race has never been used in the
ranch, and even the butter that graces the hospitable board is brought all the
way from Yreka. The staple article of food at both meals is beef, fried in
grease in the morning and boiled in fat in the afternoon. Flour made up in the
style of hot biscuits is also used at each meal, as vegetables have not yet
made their appearance here. The fluid in use is called coffee, and has a brown
appearance resembling a liquid we have seen before bearing the same name; but
perhaps, on the whole, a man might make a campaign under worse auspices.
On Friday I rode with Captain Anderson to Van Bremer’s camp
and stopped there all night. It is very neatly laid out, at the foot of Van
Bremer’s hill, which overlooks the lava beds. The little shelter tents are all
laid out in streets, and everything around the camp is kept clean and orderly. Colonel
Miller, of the Fourth artillery, is in command. He arrived about a week ago and
relieved Major Throckmorton, who was in command at that time. I returned on
Friday morning, and passed a rather dismal afternoon awaiting the return of the
two [women], Matilda and Artena.
As the afternoon passed away and anxious gazers discerned no
sign of approaching horsewomen on the distant knoll over which the trail
mounted and fell, the ravens began to croak again with redoubled energy and
uttered fearful prophecies as to their fate. Shortly after five P.M. a solitary
horsewoman was seen riding over the crest of the hill, followed immediately
afterwards by another, and the quick eye of a looker-on discerned the expected
messengers. Uncle Jesse Applegate walked down to the corner of the fence to
meet them, and, for fear that unhallowed ears should first receive the message
from the famous Captain Jack, ordered the [women] to ride straight to the ranch
and speak to no one before they saw the Peace Commissioners.
After they had partaken of one of the standard ranch meals
they were escorted by the Commissioners and General Canby to an outlying hut,
where the session was to take place. As I was rather anxious to hear the
[women] tell their story in their own language I asked Mr. Meacham for
permission to be present. He said he had no objection and would ask his
colleagues. Mr. Meacham finally returned and said his colleagues objected. I
then asked Mr. Jesse Applegate, who said he did not mind, but Mr. Meacham
objected. Mr. Case said bluntly and honestly he objected, but finally agreed to
admit me if Mr. Meacham did not object. As all three by this time had decided
not to admit me they finally concluded to throw the onus of the refusal on
General Canby, and having extracted a mild negative to my request from that
gentleman, I was politely informed that the interview would be strictly
private.
The Star Chamber was thereupon convened, and the grand
inquisitor, Mr. A. B. Meacham, put the [women] through a most interesting
“course of sprouts.” After about two hours’ talk the session was closed, and
they all came up to the ranch. Mr. Meacham then came forward and said that the
Peace Commissioners were willing to give the press the following information:—
The Klamath [woman] Matilda made the following statement to
them:—When she arrived in the camp the Modocs received her kindly. Said they
were glad she had come. Were tired of waiting. Out of clothes, out of
provisions. They wanted no more war, and were ready to wash their hands of blood.
Captain Jack, John Schonchin, brother of the old chief, and another old [man]
were the only speakers. Captain Jack commenced by complaining that the Indians
were pitched into when asleep. They did not intend to trouble citizens. Wanted
to fight soldiers. Citizens should not have troubled them. They went to the
rocks for safety, and soldiers came and hunted them as if they were coyotes. Did
not want to live like that; wanted the blockade raised. They were tired of
seeing women come to them; women did not understand; often lied [“women did not
understand when men lied” according to other accounts]; he was a chief still;
Squire Steele had made him a chief; he did not want to talk to little Ty‑es
[Chinook Jargon for “chiefs”], or people who had been in the fight; wanted to
see them come in there; they would not be hurt. I am ready to talk, and I want
to talk to these men that come from a long way off.
John Schonchin, the brother of the old chief Schonchin, and
one of the surviving Modocs that took part in the war of 1852, then spoke and
said:—He was very tired waiting for some one to come and talk, because he could
not go out and talk. He remembered the Ben Wright treachery. These boys
(pointing to the other Indians) have all grown up since then. He wanted to wash
everybody’s hands of blood—all the past buried. He was the oldest there, would
control the boys and bring peace. He was glad men had come to talk to him from
a long way off. The Ty-es and those who had fought with them could not talk
with them. Wanted to see Mr. Case because he had come from a distance; wanted
to see Mr. Meacham because he had come from a distance. A man of his name, or
like it, had talked to him before and made his heart strong. Since then very
much blood shed, and he did not want any more.
He had given up all his country, but a very little place at
Lost River. Soldiers pitched into him there. Always tried to be friendly with
citizens. Boys got wild when soldiers pitched in; could not control boys then,
but could now. His heart had been wild; getting better now; thought the wild
got out of boys the same way. He liked the talk sent by the woman from the
President. “All the people were his children; he did not want them to fight.” He
felt like being a peacemaker among his own children; breaking the trouble as he
would break a string in the middle. These men were coming to do that. When
troubles came among his people he tried to separate them and prevent blood. He
had a red skin, but a white heart.
His heart was wild while fighting, but good news sent out wild
spirit. He was ready to see and talk at any time; did not want any more women;
they did not understand things well. When next messenger came they would
arrange to meet the men from afar off, where there were grass and water. They
were to come and not be afraid. I can control my people, but I am afraid you
cannot control your people. My men will do what they agree; we are afraid your
people will not. I am not afraid myself, and these men need not be afraid; they
will not be hurt, nobody will kill them. Went on the reservation promised place
by Link River Jack; no let stop there only little while; Captain Knapp move me
to Williamson River, and then again between the Klamaths; had to live on mud
(meaning roots, etc.); could not see happy home and rest, and came away. Did
not want any time lost about council; clothes worn out, sent men and women to
our caches for roots on Lost River; got scared and turned back. Send this woman
Matilda back with the next messenger, and they will all come out of roots [rocks?]
and talk. We like all the words that have been sent to us; they did not send
very many—we have replied all we want to send; when send more talk we send more
aback. Tell the white men not to be afraid.
The other old Modoc that talked did not say much, but the
drift of his observations was in favor of peace, but he was afraid of treachery
like Ben Wright’s. All the Modocs were very attentive to the speakers, and
grunted their approval at the words that had been sent to them. There were no dissenting
voices to the speeches, and the Indians seemed all to be in accord, except a
little jealousy on the part of Captain Jack lest he should not be recognized as
Chief. [Matilda Whittle] was of the opinion he had lost his influence, and that
John Schonchin was the acknowledged leader by the majority of the bucks. She
did not think that the jealousy would result in a conflict, as Schonchin had a
large majority on his side. She has the utmost confidence in their pretensions
for peace. The Indians sent no propositions.
I afterwards learnt from Mr. Whittle, who had a talk with his
wife, that Captain Jack appeared more anxious to talk with Elijah Steele or
Judge Rosborough, and that he also spoke very bitterly about being attacked by
soldiers in the dark. He also said the citizens on the other side of the river
fired the first shot, and killed a [woman] and two [children], which so
maddened the young men that five of them started on the raid and killed the
white men, but spared the women. He also complained about the broken treaty,
and how they were frozen out and starved on the reservation. The other [woman],
Artena, also said that Captain Jack would not make peace unless he was given a
portion of land on Lost River.
The result of this first mission to Captain Jack formed the
subject of discussion last evening, and all the settlers appeared surprised at
finding the Indians so anxious for peace. There were many opinions as to what
terms the Indians wanted, but the majority were impressed with the belief that
nothing except a general amnesty would effect peace. This morning Bob Whittle
and his [wife] Matilda started off to meet the Modocs and arrange for a meeting
with the Commissioners. This meeting will probably take place next Tuesday
somewhere between Van Bremer’s and the lava beds.
[Fox consistently refers to Oliver Applegate as Oliver E.
Applegate; Oliver’s middle name, however, was Cromwell. sbh]
[Probably Matilda Whittle and Artena were accompanied by
another Modoc woman, One-eyed Dixie. The Gillem
Report asserts that three women went in to the lava bed on this mission,
and this is confirmed by Bogart, writing in the San Francisco Chronicle for 1 March 1873. One-eyed
Dixie had previously acted as a messenger between Captain Jack and John
Fairchild. sbh]
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