Chapter XXVII — The Winds of War (and other subjects)
This is one of the longer chapters of the memoirs of Jesuit missionary Father Paul Ponziglione. His memories were recorded in his "diamond fine script" [1] in composition notebooks, ruled at about 22 lines per page. This chapter used nearly 52 pages, and the transcription, in 12pt. Times Roman, is 20 pages. As with many of his chapters, he provides a table of contents, or sorts (above in his writing, and below). As I started into the transcription it seemed like he was covering a hodgepodge of subjects, heading toward a pretty interesting subject. But then I realized I was experiencing hints and tidbits of the way life was changing as the Osages, settlers and the missionaries descended into the horrors of the Civil War.
This is one of the longer chapters of the memoirs of Jesuit missionary Father Paul Ponziglione. His memories were recorded in his "diamond fine script" [1] in composition notebooks, ruled at about 22 lines per page. This chapter used nearly 52 pages, and the transcription, in 12pt. Times Roman, is 20 pages. As with many of his chapters, he provides a table of contents, or sorts (above in his writing, and below). As I started into the transcription it seemed like he was covering a hodgepodge of subjects, heading toward a pretty interesting subject. But then I realized I was experiencing hints and tidbits of the way life was changing as the Osages, settlers and the missionaries descended into the horrors of the Civil War.
1861 Chapter XXVII
(Presented here as written with one exception. Considering length, I have added a few bold headers.)
(Presented here as written with one exception. Considering length, I have added a few bold headers.)
Indian life — Death of Gratamantze — Little White Hair succeeds him — The breaking of the Civil War — A plot against Father Schoenmakers life — The Father leaves the Mission— Ravages of the war — Some Osages join the Union army — Plunderers attack the Mission school — Confederates first raid against Humboldt — Capt. John Matthews protects the Sisters Convent — his death — Confederates second raid on Humboldt — Father James C. Van Goch's Life in danger.
The every day life of an Indian village might at first sight appear as miserable, wretched and not worth living. However, in reality it is not so; for the poor Indians, in their wigwams, are as happy as lords can be in their great palaces, yes, nay frequently more. In fact their knowledge not extending much farther that to what they see, their aspirations are also very limited, their needs very few, these once satisfied, they do not expect more. Eminently conservative in all their habits, they wish but to be allowed to follow their aboriginal customs. Contented with the state of life in which providence has placed them, they enjoy themselves with their family, live in peace with their neighbors. Very lovable by nature, favor public games the chase being the great object of their live, they consider it their duty to devote all their energy to it.
Their nomadic life keeps them in a continual migratory state, and from the year to the end of it, they are on a continual wandering up and down the country, pitching their tents and forming their villages wherever they can secure a good pasture for their horses, these being their principal dependency for the chase of the buffalos. Having passed the winter in the forests along some running stream sheltered from blizzards, well supplied with fuel, the winter grass, and the tops of saplings offering plenty of food for their stock; spring coming they gup up on higher lands to escape the danger of being submerged by the periodical floods of the season. As soon as the soil awakes, as it were, from its long sleep of winter, new grass begins to tinge the prairies, and the trees are decked with new foliage, out they move, and scatter along the creeks, where the land is richer. Here the squaws going to work make their parterres, plant and cultivate few patches of sweet corn and pumpkins. When these have taken a good start, and are growing nicely, they all leave and during some 3 weeks, are wading through the ponds gathering flags to make their mats. Next returning to their little gardens, harvest their harvest their hardy ripe crops, and go to build their summer villages on the highest bluffs to enjoy the benefit of a cool breeze and be free from the annoyance of mosquitoes.
And now in the long summer days, they are not wasting their time idling around, but they are busy at work. Numbers of squaws will every morning go down to the valley, either to gather fire-wood, or to get a supply of fresh water. Meanwhile the old women will be steady at the mortar grinding their sweet corn to make their hominy; eithers will be squatting on the grass to weave their mats.
The children, of whom they have a large number, keep playing about shooting their arrows at birds and rabbits; and the largest boys are always on the lookout, each one tending the horses on his charge. And if the old men are allowed to pass their time in dolce far niente [2] it is not so with the young braves, for every parties of them, starting early in the morning, they make short excursions on the plains to get fresh meat for their families and friends. At last by the midday of September all once more pack up, and leave for the great hunt. This will keep them rambling after buffalos for about 3 months, and by the end of December they all return to their old winter quarters.
Some might think that such periodical moving from one place to another must at long run prove very troublesome to the poor Indians, but far from being so, it is rather congenial and healthy, for being almost an impossibility to preserve cleanness in villages where no hygiene provision are made, the frequent moving of all to some new spot of ground becomes a necessity. Moreover this also proves most beneficial to their numerous horses, for by this system, they are always provided with fresh pastures.
To the traders who are dealing with the Indians, this migratory life sometimes occasions considerable trouble and expenses, however by the end of the year, they are abundantly compensated, by the heavy percentage they make on their goods. And this the Indians are willing to pay, for they well understand in what a rough condition their traders are placed on their account, and as long as they try, by kindness and moderation, to accommodate them, they never ae the losers. For the Indians are very much like children. They do not care about keeping money, they never trouble themselves about the next day; what they have, they freely use, and when they get out of provisions, they are bound to have a new supply of them. Cost what it may cost, they will willingly pay wat is due the traders. Their bows and arrows being always a sure guarantee that they will honorably pay their debts.
If ever there has been a trader who knew the importance of being accommodating with the Indians, and who did at times make large profits by showing to rely on their honesty, it was most certainly Mr. Henry Cardon, a French man by descent, but born in Louisiana. By the end of last year having opened a trading post among the Osages, had now given charge of it to his partner Mr. William Godfroy, a clever young man from Detroit in Michigan. Mr. H. Cordon and his partner had first located their store not far from that of Messrs. Edward Chouteau and Pappin on Canville Creek, and as they were liberal, nay perhaps even prodigal with the Indians, they idolized them and gave them large patronage.
Mr. H. Cardon having learned that the Little-Osages last fall had a rich hunt, kept on hand a quantity of nice buffalo robes, thought better not to lose such a good chance, and moved his store close to their town, to prevent anybody else from securing that trade. His store was now on the left bank of Big Creek about two miles above its confluence in the Neosho. The locality was a charming one, and soon became the nucleus of a small settlement made up of 4 halfbreeds families, and a few flood blood Osages. Mr. H, Cardon, a real gentleman in all bearings, was a sport loving man, always agreeable, enterprising, full of activity, and never refusing a favor to anyone, in in his power. The only trouble with his was that in the discharge of these good qualities, his heart did no peep at par with his funds! Having learned from his mother that in giving alms, the left hand should not know what the right hand had given, he, misapplying this evangelical counsel; now and then would neglect to bring to book his extra donations and the consequence was, that more than once he had considerable trouble with those terrible drummers, who with most scrupulous punctuality, do at due time, fall upon the traders to collect bills to examine books, to see whether the ends do meet together. An instance of this kind happened at the beginning of this year to our friend Mr. H. Cardon, and nothing, but what I can call French adroitness, or better shrewdness, brought him out all right, at least for the time being.
On the last day of January, just about sun-down, a tidy looking young man, driving a nice two horse buggy, comes on the premises of Mr. Cordon. And introduces himself as a drummer of a wholesale St. Louis house, supplying goods to Indian traders. Mr. Cardon knows at once what kind of bird this is! He receives him very kindly, shows him to his small cottage, tells him to make himself at home, meanwhile he would see to his horses. By the time he returns, dark has set in. HE first congratulates the stranger for coming to pay him a visit and inquires from how far he has come that day? And hearing that he was coming from Fort Scott, “My friend” says he “you must be very hungry, four you did not see a single souse through the long 40 miles you have been travelling!” To this the drummer replied “You are right, I never did expect to have to run on such a lonesome road; I had not a morsel of bread with me, and what was worse, more than once I thought I was lost ; and how happy did I not feel, when from the top of a hill, I notice smoke arising from your house!” “Well, well exclaims Mr. Cordon, that was too bad! But come on. Let us now have some supper, for I know you stand in need of it.” Here they walked to another cabin close by where Mrs. Mojard, a French lady keeping house for the traders, had prepared a good repast, which if in the line of dainties could not be compared to a French restaurant, it was nevertheless remarkably well furnished with an abundance of exquisite nutritious food, served with the greatest imaginable cleanness. The drummer felt surprised at finding so much neatness in an Indian settlement.
During the supper the drummer informed Mr. Cordon about the object of his visit, and said that he wished to get through his business as soon as possible, that he might start on the afternoon of the next day for Osage Mission, where he had to collect a few bills from the merchants at that post. “This is all right.” Replies Mr. Cardon, “tomorrow morning we will settle all the accounts, and you will have plenty of time to go down to the Missionin the afternoon, for it is only 15 miles distant from here, and you cannot miss the road, for there is but one main travel road between the two places. And now meanwhile the drummer is eating in good earnest Mr. Cordon entertains him relating different exploits of the Osage emphasizing how acute the care, and how cunning then can be when they put their mind to steal some horses. He represents how sometimes they can also be very rough, and even cruel with the white man if they only can get a chance to catch him when he is unprepared to defend himself. This kind of talk is not very encouraging to the young drummer, whose all knowledge concerning Indians is arising from Indian wars story books.
Once supper is over they remain for a while chatting by the fireplace. At last Mr. Cordon tells to the fatigued you man “I suppose you need rest after such a long drive.” So saying, he shows him a neat room where he had a comfortable bed prepared for him, and wishing him good night he leaves him alone. The drummer now retiring, and though very tired, he can find no rest/ His mind being preoccupied by the terrible accounts of deeds of violence, and blood shed he heard during his supper. In his dozing, he sees magnified figures of Indians coming to attack the story, steal his horses, and scalp him! The confuse voices of young warriors from the next village, who are passing the long hours of a winter night, singing their war songs, keep him in a great excitement, and the pitiful wailing of desolate squaws, lamenting over the loss of their dear ones, make him feel quite nervous. He turns from one side to the other, but to no avail. At las, perhaps one hour before day-break, he falls asleep, and rests undisturbed till the noise made by and Indian woman in the next room, notifies him that it will soon be breakfast time.
The sun was just rising from the folding of long pale looking clouds, when he got out of the cabin to see whether all was right about his horses. He looks at them through the chinks of the log-stable in which they have been locked up the evening before, and noticing that they had plenty of feed, he is satisfied. “But where is my buggy gone?” says he to himself. “I left it here last night, wonder where did they put it?” He looks around, but cannot get a sight of it. This renders him very uneasy, and a number of suspicions begin to arise in his mind, when stepping on a rock to survey the country at large, he discovers the top of hi buggy, way far off in a bent of the timber. “There it is.” He cries out. “I knew” says he “that the novelty of such a rare vehicle in this country would draw the attention of those wild fellows, and surely the scoundrels who mad such a noise las night with their yelling and whooping must have had a great time in driving it up and down the prairie! But why did they leave it so far off? I am very much afraid that there is some thing wrong about it!” And saying this he starts toward the place to examine whether all was right. Bu alas, when he reaches the spot, he sees that one of the buggy’s wheels is mission. In his great astonishment at the sight, remains silent for a while, nodding his head up and down, at last says he “This is what I expected! Had they broken anything else, I would put up with it, but now where can I here get another wheel?” He next takes a careful view of the whole carriage, and seeing that there was no other mishap, he returns to the cottage most terribly excited.
There, meeting Mr. Cordon, he says “My friend, it is all done with me; I am busted!” “Why? How so? What is the matter?” replies the trader; “Why?” said he. Last night some wicked Indian boys must have bee running my buggy all over the country, and now ne wheel is missing! They most certainly have broken it to splinters running through rocky ravines. If I could at least find the fracture splinters, we might perhaps succeed in fixing them together, but who can tell what became of them?” At hearing tis Mr. Cordon seemed to be very much affected, and in sympathetic tune said “I declare this is too bad! I knew that there were mean boys around here, but I never expected they would play such a trick as this! However” he added, “Do not grieve too much upon this matter for a remedy can always be found for most all kind of evils, and there are great many ways of getting out of trouble. Any how let us not make things worse than they are. Come on now, and let us have some breakfast and afterward we shall see what can best be done.”
Presently both sat at the table, the poor drummer looks like a man who is expecting an attack from some enemy at every moment. He drinks in haste two cups of black coffee; he does not eat a morsel of anything, he appears to be very nervous, and one would think that he is getting out of his mind. At last he asked Mr. Cordon, whether any of the Mission mechanics might be able to put up some kind of wheel, that might help him to go as far as to Fort Scott. This his Mr. Cardon answers that to his knowledge no such mechanic could be found. “But” Says he “I cannot believe that the boys have broken the wheel, for though some of them are very wicked, I do not think whey would be so mean as to do that. I am rather of opinion that last night, after having run your buggy for a while, they drove down to that point of the timber where it sands, and for the sake of fun, they took off one of the wheels, and went to hide it somewhere, just to make a little money by it.” And indeed he was correct is saying this, for the whole mystery of the missing wheel was but stratagem of his own devise to distract the mind of the inexperienced drummer from the object for which he had come.
The breakfast being over, Mr. Cardon told the drummer “Now we must find out the missing wheel. My store-soldier, young Tajutze said he, is one of the best detectives we have among our Indians. I shall send him around among the young bucks and he may likely discover the conspiracy, if there be any.” “You are very obliging, replied the drummer, and I willingly will give 5 dollars to the one, who will bring back the wheel.” Mr. Cardon at once called on Tajutze, told him to pick up another young man, and got together to fine out the clear about this matter. Tajutze understood perfectly well what he had to do; and taking in his company of his friends by the name of Cawa-tonka, off they go.
Now the drummer becomes very restless being perplexed between hope and fear. He keeps pacing up and down up and down in front of the store looking in every direction to see whether he might discover the two young men returning. And just about noon he gets a glance of them on the far high prairie. He looks at them again and again. They seem to be rolling something before them. He doubts whether really he sees right of perhaps is mistaken. At last sure that he is not under an illusion, he calls on Mr. Cardon with a voice full of joyful emotion “Mr. Cardon, Mr. Cardon” shouted he, “They are coming; you were right after all. Those fellows found the wheel. O I am so glad!”
And then the drummer seemed to be more pleased than if he had found 100 dollars. He quick paid the two pucks the promised reward, and turning to Mr. Cardon, requested him to have the team hitched up and once, for he is bound to leave as soon as possible. To this Mr. Cardon objected very kindly; requesting him to delay till next morning, but he would not listen, and declared that he was bound to be at Osage Mission before evening. This was exactly what Mr. Cardon was wishing. Without making any farther remarks, he replies that he would at once go and see to the horses. “But meanwhile” said he “you better seat down and take some dinner, for you did not eat anything at your breakfast.” The drummer willingly accepts the invitation, and by the time he gets through with his meal, Mr. Cardon drives in, and stops in front of the house. The drummer feels jubilant at the sight of his buggy, he thanks Mr. Cardon for having treated him so kindly, and after a warm hand shaking, and repeated good-bye’s, he starts never thinking, even for a moment, either about the books he was to inspect or the bills he had to collect.
Mr. Cardon felt exultant on the grand success he had on this occasion; and after several days, being on business at the mission, he came to pay a visit to Father Schoenmakers, with whom he was very familiar and related to him, with some satisfaction, how he had got rid of that troublesome visitor. The Father could not help but laughing most heartily, at the shrewdness with which the whole affair hand been conducted. But after a while taking a serious attitude, he remarked that he could not approve what he had done, and this on the general principle, that one should never do to another, what he would not wish to be done by. And moreover, said he, “Be careful my friend, in playing such tricks, for mind what I will tell you, the wittiest men frequently are outwitted by person who never would have been suspected to be able to do so.” The good Father on this occasion without intending it, spoke as a prophet, for about the end of February it really did happen that our Friend Cardo, as the father had said.
The Osages being frequently found to be without bread, especially when out on the plains, they form time to time immemorial, do use dry tallow as a substitute for it. For this reason, tallow is a most important staple of trade for them, To get plenty of it is a special object of the summer hunt, for in that season the buffalos are generally very fat. Summer hunt had been a very rich one for the Little Osages. Of buffalos, they met with an uncommonly large quantity, all in excellent good condition, the consequence was that they not only got a very large supply of tallow, for their own use, but also could store away a great deal of it for trade.
As spring was now approaching, before moving their villages from the timber bottoms to the high prairies, the Osages thought better to dispose of the surplus of tallow they had, and bringing it to Mr. Cardon they exchanged it for provisions. Mr. Cardon felt proud at seeing that at last he had a good opportunity of settling some of his accounts with the wholesale house of Mr. Northrop and Chick of Kansas City. He willingly gave to the Osages all they wanted in exchange, and hired several half breed teamsters to bring the whole cargo to Kansas City.
The employs of the wholesale house gave three cheers for the Osage boys when they saw them coming with such an important freight. Here without any delay, meanwhile the boys were unloading, Mr. Northrop began to melt the tallow into large barrels to store it away. But to his great surprise, as well as of those who were helping him, it was noticed that the kettles, in which it was melted, there remained a heavy deposit of small limestone slabs. At first they could not make out how that could be, they however soon found out what the matter! They wondered how Mr. Cardon, a clever French man, as he was thought to be , could have been so simple as to buy such a quantity of tallow from the Osages, without first ascertaining whether the whole was a genuine article. This they declared was a masterly trick the Indians had played on him/ Having had a merry laugh on the whole affair, Mr. Northrup directed his clerks how they should be cautious in melting the balance, and at the same time should set apart all of the little slabs they would find. Having got through their work, the first weighed the pure tallow, and next the slabs. In making up the bill Mr. Northrup credited Mr. Cardon for 3,500 pounds of pure tallow, and at the foot of the bill, requested him to pay to the teamsters what was due for faithfully freighting to Kansas City about 1,000 pounds of limestone., for which the wholesale house had no use.
When the news of the expedition reached the Neosho, people had quite a jolly time at Mr. Cardon’s expense. But he took the matter very philosophically, he would not talk much about it, and putting up a cheerful countenance, as if nothing wrong had happened to him, looked upon the whole as a good lesson he had received, and from that time indeed he became more careful in his dealings with the Indians.
Spite of this, and several other mishaps of the kind, Mr. Cardon as well as Mr. Godfroy, were having a tolerable good trade, and though of late, they had become a little more economical in their expenses, the nevertheless knew how to be liberal at proper times.
Their store had now become a regular rendezvous for the Indians of that vicinity. Chiefs and counsellors would have met every day to idle their time chatting, smoking, singing and gambling. Most prominent among was a chief from Wantze-Waspe generally known as old Ballist. This brave, for such he had been in his young days in St. Louis, when that great metropolis was but a small French town. As he had acquired some facility in speaking the French language, he was occasionally employed as an interpreter by the traders. This had given him a kind of superiority of the other Indians, and he felt as being a man of some importance.
Mr. Cardon for a while did not object to the daily gatherings taking place in his store, thinking that the presence of those men might help to draw more customers. But having found out that the result was quite different, he requested Mr. Godfroy to see whether he might put an end to this nuisance, without however hurting the sensibility of the Indians. Mr. Godfroy was a genius in matters of this kind, and as he enjoyed full confidence among the Osages, was the best man to reestablish order on the premises. His imagination was rich and as he was pacing up and down, studying on what he should do, he found out a stratagem, which in his opinion might clear the house of all those sycophants. On the next day, he proposed his plan to Mr. Cardon, who approved of it and added “William, if you do succeed in your scheme, you will deserve a civic crown!”
On the next morning Mr. Godfroy is coming to the store later than usual, and his appearance is so excited as to show that something strange must have happened to him. The Osages at once surround him, asking what may be the matter with him; whether perhaps he got bad news from his people; and as the difficulties between the norther man, and southern were growing every day more and more entreated, they wish to know whether the white people were going to have a war? But here, old Ballist stands up, and assuming great authority, tells them to shut up and leave Mr. Godfroy alone.
Next turning to him with familiar expressions, asks him whether perhaps he was sick? To this Mr. Godfroy answers, that he was not. “But I am bothered” Said he “on account of a bad dream I had last night.” These few words puzzled the Osages who now crowding on him, beg him t tell them the dream. To satisfy them he replies that if they would promise to behave themselves, and not interrupt him, he would tell them all. On their assurance that they would he spoke as follows.
“My dream was a terrible one.” Said he “I dreamed that I was laying very sick, nay on the point of death! When all at once two demons came and took me down to Hell! O what a desolate country did I see! It looked like an immense plain, no grass was growing on it, but long flames red, white blue, green and yellow were shooting out from numbers of large crevices very close one to the other. On that plain I saw a great crowd of people of all colors and age; they were all stripped and running to and fro, trying to escape the flames issuing from the ground, but to no use, for a number of devils, all armed with pitch-forks, were not allowing any one of them to get out. The confusion was horrible, for those coming forward meeting those who were running away from the devils, they would fall one on the other and remain enveloped by the flames that were coming out of the ground. I never saw such a distressing sight! Clouds of smoke were here and there arising from the burning mass of people; the air was sickening, my ears were deafened by the piercing screams of that doomed multitude. My heart was throbbing with most excruciating anxiety at the thought that no body was allowed to give any relief to those unfortunate people.
Here the two demons hurried me down in a deep underground cave, where Satan himself was seating on a big blazing iron chair, encircled by big rattlesnakes twisting themselves around his legs and arms, biting him mercilessly. On both his sides, I noticed seven chairs of red hot iron. I shuddered at the sight and asked Satan for whom were those seats prepared? And he answered that they were ready for the principal Chiefs of the Osages, and he named 14 (?) of them. As I did not hear the name of old Ballist, I asked him whether there was any room for him. At hearing this Satan shook his head and said, “I know whom you mean! That old rogue who keeps up a disturbance about you store, and wants to be bossing over ever body, I have a place for him too! When he will drop down here I shall let him have my very chair I am seating on now, and I do assure you that these snakes shall server him right!”
“In hearing this, I felt too much excited, that I trembled all over and got awake! I looked all around and I need not tell you how happy I did feel when I saw that I was yet in my bed.”
Now Godfroy changed the subject of his conversation, and began to attend to his regular business as usual. But what followed did evidently show that he had not spoken in vain. The narrative so struck old Ballist , as well as the chiefs who were present, that on after the other all gradually went out and from that day, to the great satisfaction of Mr. Cardon and his partner they gave up loitering around the store.
This winter more than one of our poor settlers would have suffered exceedingly had not been of the supply of dry meat which they did purchase from the Osages who having had a good hunt last fall, they could easy spare them what they needed. The trouble however was that the most ordinary article of exchange given them by the white was liquor and this generally of the worse kind.
The U.S. Agent, whose duty was to prevent its introduction in the nation, was unable to attend to it in person, on account of residing at 50 miles distance among the Quapaw’s. Truly he had appointed substitutes to see to it, but there, some way or other, were to lenient in enforcing the law. The consequence was that an amount of whiskey was being daily brought in, and no body seemed to know it was smuggled in.
The result of this abuse soon proved to be terrible. The Osages, like most all other Indians, once they taste of the fire water, seem to lose their reason, and will drink to excess. On account of it, this winter the nation lost several men. And no wonder, for once intoxicated, they would not mind to lay down for the night, either in the woods, or on the high prairies, exposed to the sudden changes of the weather, without any shelter against the terrible Kansas blizzards. And more than once on the morning some poor Indian would be found frozen to death, or in such miserable condition that he would die after few days.
Death of Gratamantze. If the number of Osages that died through their intemperance during this winter was considerable, that of those, who were carried away by the scurvy in the spring was not inferior! In fact, with the opening of the season, we hear of great many complaining, of hard suffering, on account of general stiffness in their limbs. Father Schoenmakers is going around from lodge to lodge trying to help the afflicted, giving them all the assistance in his power, but to no use. By the middle of March, the tops of the high bluffs siding the Neosho, look of being covered with battlements, so many are the graves arising in every direction. Each town had someone to lament. Among the victims that fell, Gratamantze, the Head Chief of the nation was the most remarkable. Gifted of very good common sense, he was just and kind in his administration. His constitution being strong and healthy, he never would take much care of himself; but when at last the fatal symptoms of the prevailing distemper made their appearance, he had to surrender himself to the Doctors.
Gratamantze had always shown a great respect for Father Schoenmakers, and in any matter of importance he would act according to his advice. Knowing very well how skillful a nurse he was, and how many Indians he had successfully treated in their sicknesses, now that this own case had become critical, he wished to he brought to the mission, that he might receive all the medical assistance he well knew the father would willingly give him.
His wigwam was raised in but few steps of our dwelling house, and the Father could be seen ministering to him by day and by night, watching him most carefully and trying by all possible means to assuage his pains. But the whole of his blood had by this time been poisoned, and apparently seemed to have stopped circulating in his veins. The many pustules, which now over a month, had marked his skin, had become disgusting ulcers. He has become a total wreck. His mind however being as yet perfectly sound, the Father seeing no hope of improving the condition of his body, tries by all means that of his soul, and to prepare him for death.
With loving words he represented to him his dangerous condition, and tells him in clear expressions that his recovery is despaired off. But at the same time he bids him not to be desponding nay rather to renew his belief in God, and trust his life into his hands. He recalls to his mind those eternal truths, which he firmly believed when in his young days, just now 33 years ago he had been baptized by Father Charles F. Van Quickenborne in St. Stanislaus house near Florissant. He recalls to his mind the happiness he then experienced, and assures him that if he does but repent, and confess is sins, God will be most merciful to him. The zeal which animated the words of the Father touched the heart of the dying chief, and as if an electric spark and run through his broken system, he seems to be animated with a new life. His eyes bright up, and his countenance is cheered by the expectation of that eternal life he had almost lost of sight. His heart feels encouraged with the hope infused in him by that religion, whose rules and teachings, thought he as disregarded for many years, he never had denied! Following the Fathers advises, in spirit of true repentance, he receives the last sacraments of the Church, and dies perfectly resigned to God’s will, the 12 of March, being about 48 years old.
On the death of Gratamantze, Little White Hair became the Head Chief of the Big and Little Osages, in place of Watcie-Chahickie (?), the son of the Great Chief Pawnee-no-pah-she, who should have succeeded by right but was not of yet of age. This White Hair was surnamed Little, on account of his small stature. He was a good honest man, but being sickly and half blind, never made much of a show in his nation. He lived in his town called Little-Town.
Hardly one month had passed since the death of Gratamantze, when the report of the first cannon fired from Fort Sumter, on the 12th April, resounding link a thunder clap from the infernal regions, and reverberating from the far Rocky Mountains, fills the whole of our peaceful country with horrible confusion! The Indians are bewildered, hearing of the fratricidal strife already going on among our neighbors in western Missouri and wonder what the end of this will be.
Rumors of War. The war excitement now spread all over like a wild fire, and the hunting grounds of the red man, are changed into military drilling camps. Here however the war is not carried on with any well ordered system, and the belligerent far from being regular troops, they are but independent factions of wrenched men, who at times call themselves Confederate militia, and again go under the name of Union Soldiers. In reality they are only bands of desperados, who have nothing to lose and aim at plunder.
Now both these factions wishing to get recruits from the Osages, have their agents going around the Indian villages, promising large bounties to all those who will enroll in their companies; and fearing least Father Schoenmakers influence might induce them to decline their offerings, and remain neutral, the leaders of these bands in their secret meetings determine that the Father should at once be considered an enemy of their cause, and put out of the way by assassination.
The fear however of the Father’s influence was only a sham pretext, the real cause was the greediness those men hand for the treasures they supposed the Father had accumulated, and secreted in the houses, and they thought tat by killing him and dispersing the balance of us all, they could (?) succeed in possessing themselves of a large booty. To carry on their plan with an appearance of honesty, they needed some plausible reason to show that the killing of the Father had been a necessity of the war. For ours being a government institution, it was to be expected that our superior should be in favor of the Union, and this was enough to make him appear of a declared enemy of the Confederacy. And behold that h truly Christian charity of the good Father soon offered them an occasion to execute the most wicked intent and they would certainly have succeeded, had not got in his mercy thwarted their plans.
At the very outbreak of the war, President Lincoln, wishing to conciliate the Indians boarding on the Kansas frontiers, dispatched a special commissioner to visit the, and provide for their wants. This extra-commissioner with his servitors were directed by the President to go take possession of the Quapaw Agency, locate at some 50 miles southeast of our mission. These gentlemen having reached our place without any opposition, did not dare to venture any farther by themselves alone, for fear of falling into the hands of hostile parties, then roving through that country. For this reason they requested Father Schoenmakers to be so kind as to accompany them, or rather to be their guide to the Quapaw Agency, feeling confident that no one would interfere with the Father, on account of his being so much know.
Father Schoenmakers was a man who would never refuse to accommodate anyone, if he only had an opportunity of so doing. Hence, though in this special case, he foresaw the possibility of some risk, he nevertheless offered his services most willingly. They started and reached the Quapaw Agency without meeting any difficulty. The Commissioner and his secretary were very thankful to the Father for having brought them safely to their destination and not doubting that they would be able to comply with their charge, without any farther assistance of the father, they bid him farewell and he returned to us.
The Indians, as well as the white-settlers around the Agency noticed the (?) of the Father in company of two strangers and made no remarks about it. But when they found out, that the Father had left, and the two gentlemen who had come with him, were remaining at the Agency, they became suspicious, and wished to know what their business might be. And having discovered what their character was, the alarm was given, and indignation meeting was held, inflammatory speeches were delivered, and it was openly declared that President Lincoln had no right to send there any of his officers. Hence, the passion of the people became greatly excited, a party is made on the spot, and the resolution is unanimously adopted that both the Commissioner and his secretary must be hung that very night.
Fortunately the Commissioner got wind of the conspiracy in time, and early in the evening he and his secretary succeeded in making their escape. Hardly one hour had passed since they had left when an infuriated mob surrounded the Agency, filling the air with horrible yells and curses. Full confident that the two strangers were hiding in the building, they rushed in and ransacked the whole place, but finding no body. , and nevertheless believing that they were secreted in some of the houses, they conclude to set fire to the Agency, and so they did. Jubilant at the idea that the two strangers were now most certainly burning in the midst of the great conflagration that had excited, they pass that night in barbarous orgies, threatening death to anyone who would dare to interfere with the new government inaugurated by the Confederacy.
Meanwhile this is going on; the Commissioner and his secretary are out of reach. A light glare illuminating the sky at a great distance, like an aurora borealis, tells them that the Agency, which was to be their residence, is turning into ashes. They feel thankful for their narrow escape; and wiser that Lot’s wife, they do not trust themselves to turn their head, even for a moment, to take a sight of the fire. They keep on traveling the whole night, and on the next morning they return to our mission. Father Schoenmakers, receiving them again with great cordiality, supplies them with whatever they need for their journey, and having rested for a couple of hours, they continue on their way to Humboldt in Allen County where there is no longer any danger for them, that place being garrisoned by Union Troops.
And now the wicked men, who were looking for a pretext to justify their coming to plunder and destroy our mission, felt happy, for the circumstance, was just of the kind they wanted. In their opinion our superior had betrayed them into the hands of their enemies, and on account of this very fact, he deserved to be court martialed, and put to death. Nay, one of the leading men, becoming very violent, swore before the excited crowd that he would give 500 dollars to anyone who would kill him! If the poverty of the miserable settlers, then living on the wester boundaries of the state of Missouri be taken into consideration, the sum offered for the assassination of the Father was a very large one, and it was no wonder if more than on would be found ready to commit such a crime. At once a plan of attack was concocted, and the prospect of a sure success, was smiling on them, when divine providence came to interfere in defense of the innocent Father.
Fr. Schoenmakers' Exile. A young Osage half-breed, who and been raised by Father Schoenmakers at the Mission School, by chance heard of this plot, and had too noble a heart not to feel indignant. Gratitude compels him to save the life of the one, by whom, he had been educated. Besides love and esteem for the persons with whom he had been associated for several years, when living with us, urges him to make use of all means in his power to save the father’s life, and prevent, if possible, the ruin of the mission. To this effect he quickly dispatched one of his friends with a message to notify the father about the danger he was in.
The messenger reached the Mission on the 21st of June. At 7 p.m. the man who had brought it, delivered it to Father Schoenmakers, who having perused it, thanks the carrier and having dismissed him, without showing the least excitement in his countenance, he handed the note to Father James C. Van-Goch, and next to me, requesting us to tell him what he should do. The matter was a very serious one. We felt that a heavy responsibility was laying on us, and for a while we could not speak a word! But there was no time to lose in vain speculations, something was to be done and we agreed that he should try to save his life by leaving the Mission at once. The Father reflected for a few minutes, and without any agitation replied that he would follow our advice.
A most heavy rain storm which had begun about sun-down was now raging in all its fury; but no attention was paid to it. The best racer we had in our stables, is soon saddled, and exactly 8 o’clock p.m. the Father is off, bound for Humboldt, some 30 miles north west of our mission. Spite of the great darkness prevailing, and the rain, which keep pouring down in torrents, the Father succeeds in making his way safely during that terrible night, and about 7:30 of the next morning, he finds himself in the midst of his friends in Humboldt. Having taken a much need rest, he resumes his journey, and by the end of the month he reaches St. Mary’s Mission among the Pottawatomie’s.
The storm of that memorable night was a real Godsend for all. The mob intending to come to assassinate the Father and destroy our Mission had made every thing ready to leave from Spring River in Jasper County, Missouri, on the 22 of June. But all of their calculations were baffled by the unexpected freshet, which lasted without and interruption for nearly 3 days, and flooded the whole country, to such an extent as to render impossible to travel. For all of the creeks were over their banks, the bottom lands along Spring River, as well as the Neosho, were for miles turned into ponds and lakes, the common roads had become so soaked with water that for over two weeks the best horse team could hardly pull an empty wagon through them. This sudden change disconcerted the mind of those murderous people, and forced them to give up their plans. As the war was daily making new development and men were badly needed by the different factions then being formed, those who had conspired against us were now hived to engage in other expeditions far east into Missouri. By this unexpected turn of circumstances, our enemies were dispensed to our great advantage.
By the beginning of July these belligerent parties, so far consisting of independent bands of mercenaries, hardly knowing who is their leader, and for whom they are fighting, the become organized into regular companies, these are growing into regiments, and volunteers, battalions, and as by magic in a very short time, two most formidable armies stand equipped on a war footing, one is known as the Army of the Southern Confederacy, the other that of the Union. The different states, almost equally divided according to their respective interests, either in favor or against slavery are taking the field to defend their rights. Skirmishes at once became events of ordinary occurrence. One day the Confederates are bitten, on the next the Union men meet with variances. Success is fluctuating between the two. Warlike spirit is developing, many deeds of bravery, worthy of a better cause, are daily performed. The ranks of soldiers decimated on the battle fields, are soon filled up by new recruits. War is the cry that fills the air, and the whole of our most beautiful country finds itself involved in the worse of civil strife’s.
The Indian Territory, south as well as west of Kansas, now becoming the natural boundary of a very extensive battle field, and as our mission, like an oasis in the center of interminable plains, if one of those few localities, were marching troops, straggling scouts, or military trains can repair their outfits, and receive assistance. This makes a great halting point for friends and foe, who in a moment of need, are always willing to unfurl the white flag, no matter where, but much more so on our grounds, well knowing that our Mission is like a neutral harbor, where party animosity are forgotten and kind hospitality is extended equally to all. In few months we become used to this sort of visitors who come to us by day and by night, calling either for food or medicines.
So for most perfect security and respect for personal property had existed in our territory, neither the Indian wigwam, nor the half breeds cabin needed any lock or bar to protect them against an evil intentioned passer. But this really golden age has now become a thing of the past, never more to return. For this war has flooded the country with persons of very bad character, who have not the least scruple of entering any house they can break in, to plunder it.
Those few of our full-blood Osages, who of late had applied themselves to agriculture, now see their houses and all their improvements destroyed by roving incendiaries; their oats and corn fields are turned into pastures for cavalry horses; their hogs and cattle are butchered by unruly troopers. The poor Indians feel waxed and provoked at the sight of such ravages, and well knowing that it is useless for them to look for any reparation, for the suffered damage in their despair abandon their homes, and scatter on the plains to depend again on hunting for their living. Only few families remain at not a great distance from our mission, camping on small, out of the way streams, where game is as yet plenty. Spite of all these troubles, their confidence in us is not diminished; and meanwhile they leave us to avoid meeting with white soldiers, they trust in our hands quite a number of children, full confident that they will be safe. In the weight of such an excitement, peace reigns undisturbed on our premises. Our school, as well as that of the near convent, are keeping on the usual routine and at recess-time you would be amused to see how nicely the little boys can now paly soldiers! At the very outbreak of the way, a considerable number of Osages had withdrawn far west toward the mountains to avoid having any difficulty with the belligerent parties. However, they gradually returned nearer to us, and formed two different settlements, on the banks of the Cimarron, the other of those the Washita in the Indian Territory.
Of the best warriors of the nation, some 200 were enrolled in a battalion, and were annexed to the Kansas Volunteers. Most of the able-bodied half-breeds, and all our school boys, were in age to stand military service, joined the IX Regiment of Kansas Volunteer Cavalry. These past made very good soldiers, but to what concerns the full-blooded Osages forming the battalion, they soon proved to be unfit for any well-organized army. Having no idea of discipline, the would not submit to regimental regulations, moreover, as the insisted on having their wives and children with them, they were a great encumbrance in all warlike expeditions. For this reason they were all discharged, with the exception of few, who were detained to act as scouts.
Military discipline was now being enforced, wherever these new troops were stationed. But spite of it, things in general were moving on in a very bad shape. Civil courts seemed to have lost all of their authority; wicked men getting the advantage offered them by the war’s excitement, would go around robbing their neighbors, and doing all sorts of mischief.
On the 27th of August, about 4 o’clock p.m. seven regular outlaws attack our premises, and after handling me in a rather unceremonious way, claim the right of searching the Mission houses, nay even the Sisters Convent to find out, so they say, Captain John Matthews [3], who is reported to be hiding with us. That this was only a mean pretext, and that in reality they were after plunder, it soon becomes evident, for once they get into our rooms, they forget all together the Captain they were looking after, and begin to examine our chests, and private desks to see whether they can find anything of value. But of neither money nor jewelry come to their hands, disappointed makes them violent. They abuse and threaten us, nay the Chief to the gang levels his pistol at my head, apparently determined to kill me, when providentially several half-breeds come in the room. At their sight the brigands understand very well, that if they would dare to hurt any of us, those men would take our defense, for this reason they at once drop their arms, apologize and decamp.
Stand Watie Visit. [4] Now Osage Mission has become a great rendezvous for warlike, expeditions. One day we are visited by Union Troops, and on the next by Confederacy. Sometimes both parties happen to call on us the same day. One night a few cavalry men, belonging to a detachment of Wisconsin Volunteers camping on the banks of Flat Rock, quite near us, overtake a party of Confederates who are on the point of stealing our horses. The noise of the troops, who in the stillness of the hour, are galloping up the hill to our defense, comes so unexpected to the Knight of the White Feather (as the guerillas were called) that they at once abandon their pray, just by the stables door, and run for their life. Bothe parties are for a while chasing one another in the dark over the prairie west of the mission, exchanging few shots, but once the Confederates reach the timber belt, which runs along the Neosho, the Wisconsin boys learning that they might be derived into some snares, give up the pursuit and return to their camp.
On the 8 of September a body of about 200 Confederates under the lead of Colonel Stand Watie, a Cherokee half-breed and two white men acting as Captains, Mr. Livingston and Mr. John Matthews, came to pay us a visit just at 2 o’clock p.m. We felt a little uneasy at their appearance, for thought it was Sunday, we know very well, that they were not coming to attend at Vespers. But the 3 officers of this band did not intend to give us any trouble. In fact, calling on us, they assured us of their esteem and tell us that we need not fear anything. For they were going to have a meeting with the Osages, at the residence of Mr. Joseph Swis (?), four miles farther west, and at the same time they would take part in the wedding feast of Mr. Louis Chouteau, who had just married a Cherokee young lady.
So, they were saying, but the real object of their expedition was to make a raid on the town of Humboldt in Allen County, to retaliate for damages the Union men had inflicted on them in west Missouri. They went to camp for the night at the old crossing of Four Mile Creek, due west of our mission, and to leave, as it were, a mark of having been there, about day light of the next morning they hung a poor white man, a stranger, who happened to fall into their hands during the night. This done, they started at full gallop for Humboldt. They took the town by storm, and no wonder, for most all the men able to carry arms, were out in Missouri under command of General T. H. Lane. Meeting with no opposition, but rather with full success at every step, they kidnapped a few Negros, plundered several stores, and houses of all the valuable they could find and satisfied with their booty, hurried out of town that night, with their captives.
Among the rich spoils they had taken, there were more than on kegs of whisky, and it was not surprising if the next day by the time those men reached our mission, they were all in very high spirits, quite boisterous, and all most anxious to get a drink of fresh water. Knowing that in our yard we had an excellent well, as soon as they touch our premises, all alighted, and rushed to the well for a drink. Captain John Matthews came in with his men, and seeing me, began to apologize for the liberty, said he, they had taken of entering the yard without being invited; next taking me aside he asked me, whether it was true that Father Schoenmakers had got to St. Louis? To this I replied that he has first gone to St. Mary’s Mission and from there to St. Louis. Hearing this, he said, “Father you know well, that I have always been a friend of this mission, and I am very sorry that the rumor has been circulate, that I have put a price on the Father’s head! But can you believe that I would ever have dared to commit such a crime? And stain my hands with the innocent blood of him, who with so much love and care has educated my children?” He was going to say more when being called by some of his party he left me.
Noticing that a large number of those drunken men had gathered around the well, I also went there. As it could be the expected, I heard them talking some very improper language, and declaring that they were bound to visit the Convent, which stood hardly 50 yards apart for the well. On hearing this, I remarked, that being then about 3 o’clock p.m. the girls were yet all at work with the Sisters, and It would be unbecoming for them to go to interfere with them. But the wretched sneered at me, saying that they would go in to help them? This placed me in a very painful position, for if they really would attempt to go in, I could not answer for what might next have been the result of such a visit.
Meanwhile, in the perplexity of my heart, I was praying to send his angel to protect those pure souls, to who I could offer no assistance. And Lo! Captain John Matthews is returning towards me! As soon as he is by me, I call on his attention; “Captain.” Said I “Look at these men, spite of my remonstrance’s to the contrary, they talk of going to visit the Convent. Now, what do you think of it? Do you think that is right?” Here the Captain stretched himself, and taking the attitude of a man who is going to wrestle, he clinched his fists, and cursing the crowd, he says “What? You vulgar set of scoundrels, you dare to talk of going to visit the Convent, where those angels of Sisters are educating our daughters? Shame on you dirty fellows! Clear out from here quick, and go to mind your horses, or I shall shoot some of you before we leave this place.” The men knew their Captain well, the considered him the best marksman in the country, and left on the spot.
Once they had all gone, John Matthews told me “Father, we shall leave in 10 minutes and shall got to camp for the night 8 miles east of this place on Hickory Creek. And you do not need to be uneasy, For I shall have a line of sentries around the camp, with positive orders, to shoot anyone who would dare to cross that line to come up to give you any trouble.” Having said this, he shook hands with me, and off he went to his command.
If John Matthews ever was accountable for the threats, which in a moment of party excitement, he had made against the life of Father John Schoenmakers, the noble and really gallant part he acted on this occasion to defend the Sisters Convent, and prevent them from being dishonored, deserves him our warmest thanks, and compels us to look upon him as our very great Benefactor.
No sooner did the Humboldt Volunteers, who were out in western Missouri with General F.H. Lane; hear of the raid the Confederacy had made on their town, that they organized a Company to start their pursuit. But well knowing that it was too late to overtake and punish the men, who had any part in it, for on their return to Spring River they had all disbanded and concluded to have their vengeance on Captain John Matthews, who was considered to have been the most influential leader of that expedition.
By the end of September a volunteer Company under the command of General J.G. Blunt came from Fort Scott to our Mission, looking for Captain John Matthews, and hearing that he was at his residence down the Neosho River near Little White Hairs town, they bivouac on our premises, and before the dawn of the next day, they resume their march following an old Indian trail through the woods to avoid being noticed by any body.
Here, different accounts are given concerning this expedition. According to some, General Blunts men at an early hour stormed Mr. Matthews’s house, and while he was trying to defend himself, General Blunt shot him dead. However, this is not correct. For it does not agree with the account I myself received from J. Matthews daughter, at that time living with him.
John Matthews Death. According to her testimony, J. Matthews, knowing that he had a great many enemies, who were looking for an opportunity to kill him, he would seldom sleep for two consecutive nights in the same place, but kept always moving, with a bodyguard of his braves from one house to another. The very day before he was assassinated, having heard that several suspicious characters had been loitering not far from his residence, he thought prudent to move, and went 8 miles down south, to pass the night with Mr. Louis Rogers, which stood where now stands the city of Chetopa.
J. Mathews thought nobody had noticed his movement, but he was mistaken. His enemies had seen him from the ambushes where they were hiding, and guided by a young man, whose name was John Burk, early on the next morning, they attacked the house in which he was sleeping, and as John Matthews was in the act of raising his rifle in his defense, he was shot dead by John Burk, and was buried not far from the spot where he fell. At his death he was 52 years old. After he had been killed, John Burk with his party, went to J. Matthews residence, and having taken from it as well as from his store, whatever was worth anything, they set fire to the buildings, and the conflagration that followed, Little White Hair’s town was completely destroyed.
This was the end of a man, who for many years labored hard to raise a large family of children, as well as to promote the welfare of the Osages. Had he kept himself from taking part in political strife, into which he was involved by the generosity and liberality of his heart, he might have enjoyed his old age with his children, and grandchildren, on the homestead his industry and energy had provided (?) him. But alas! His children were left orphans, his property was destroyed, the land to which he had a good title was taken away by strangers, the Indian settlement which was prospering under his guidance has disappeared and nothing is left to mark the spot where it was, but a humble and undisturbed grave of his younger daughter, lovely little Annie! How bright and sweet that child was! Just eleven years, seven months and 2 days old was she when being playing with her companions, not far from her father’s house, the fire which had been lurking through the grass communicated itself to her dresses, and at once she was enveloped in the flames, her screams drew immediate assistance, but not quick enough to save her life. She had inhaled the flames, he doom was sealed! On the 1st of April, 1857, her soul purified indeed by fire, took her fly to heaven!
To what concerns John Burk, I shall record to his everlasting shame, that he was one of the worse characters that ever did disgrace American soil and his heart must have been that of a tiger, not of a man. Previous to this event, he was for a time a school teacher in one of the Cherokee nation public schools, but being bound to fly away from that country, not to fall into the hands of a mob of infuriated people who were going to hang him, on account of some shameful crime he had committed, he ran to shelter himself under the hospitable roof of John Matthews, who thought a stranger to him, being however much respected by all of the Indians, might by his influence succeed in pacifying the mob and saving his life.
Burk was not mistaken. J. Matthews’ words tranquilized the excited crowd, he gave guarantee for his future behavior, and the man was left unmolested, and free to go around the country. But, as it is most frequently the case with men of such character, instead of getting better, be became worse. The presence of his benefactor, being a continual rebuke to his infamy, he anxiously looked for some opportunity to get rid of him and now meeting with that expedition with General Blunt, he joined it, nay became its guide; and escorted by this went to murder his benefactor. Blood always calls for more blood! Hardly one month had passed since this assassination had taken place, when being pursued by J. Matthews’ avengers, he was overtaken far west, and was shot dead, just at the moment he was trying to hide himself behind a bush. His body was left unburied to be the pray of varmints, and his name shall be in execration for ever! A terrible, but just retribution!
The good success that accompanied the Confederacy in their first raid on Humboldt encouraged them to attempt a second one. This time they are determined to destroy the whole town. This expedition is conducted by Colonel Talbot, a Missourian, and his command amounts to some 350 men. At noon of the 14 of October they dash into Humboldt the troops that were there stationed with General Blunt, apprehending no danger of any attack, had all left. A body of home guards, all together about 100 men under the command of Captain Miller and Lieutenant Charles Boland, are the only defense left to the town. The quickness with which Talbot’s brigade did rush in, raises such a panic that in the midst of the great confusion at once prevailing, far from taking arms, several of them made their escape. However, Captain Miller, as well as his lieutenant, succeed in rallying up the few that are left of the company, and taking a stand, they resist the invading party. But outnumbered, and encompassed by Talbot’s men, they are bound to capitulate; they are disarmed, and taken prisoners. Now Captain Miller, seeing that all was lost, calls on Col. Talbot. He acknowledges his superiority and declares that he and his company are willing to submit to their fate! But at the same time he entreats him to be merciful and spare the women and children, for they have injured nobody.
Col. Talbot was by no means a cruel man. All he wanted was to avenge the death of his friend John Matthews, and to retaliate for the burning of the town of Osceola in Missouri by General Lane. For this reason, replying to Captain Miller, he said that he did not want to kill anybody, unless armed resistance would make him.
On that spot he ordered his soldiers to take all the goods they could find in the stores. Next, he allows some of his men to help the women and children to move their valuables and household goods from their dwellings to a large house at some distance, where they would have a shelter. This done, the whole town was set on fire, with the exception of the churches, and also a Masonic Hall, besides some few residences scattered about, which could not be reached without disbanding his men on too large and extent of ground.
Col. Talbot fearing least (?) in the night he might be surprised by Union troops, coming down from the north would not allow his men to bivouac on the place, but left that very evening with his brigade, taking with him quite a number of prisoners. These, however, he did not intend to keep. In fact after marching them for a few miles, he released them all. On the next morning, about 10 o’clock was passing triumphantly on our premises, on his way to Missouri, and was followed by 200 wagons carrying all the booty he had taken.
Threat on Fr. Van Goch. On the 7 of December my dear friend and companion Father James C. Van Goch, who at that time was visiting the Catholic Families in the vicinity of Fort Scott, had a narrow escape from the hands of a company of drunken Union men, who about 3 o’clock p.m. attacked him on the high way, took his horse, and having ordered him to kneel down, they would most certainly have shot him, had it not been for the sagacity of their Captain Mr. Bell, who was the only sober man of the party. Thus seeing that his soldiers were determined on killing the Father, remonstrated that they were not allowed to do any such thing, without first giving him a fair trial. “Let us” said he, “bring our prisoner to the camp, there we shall hold a court-martial, and condemn him to be shot, doing so we will be all right.” This suggestion proved satisfactory to all. The Father was ordered to get again on his horse, and surrounded by those unruly fellows, who were sneering at him, and cursing him at every step, at last they reached the camp.
Here the Captain told the men to unsaddle their horses, and bring them down in the valley along the creek, where there was, as yet, some good grazing ground left. “This done, said he, “come up and we shall have a court-martial on the Father!” The men yelling like a gang of wild Indians now started down the hill to comply with the orders they had received. As soon as they got out of sight, the Captain addressing the Father with great respect and kindness told him not to fear, and asked him where he wanted to go? The Father replied that he was on his way to the residence of a Catholic family, where he was expected to have Mass on the next morning. Then the Captain answered “Well Father, let us go at once, we will soon be there.” Both started on a gallop, and in short time reached the house, where the Father was expected, and there apologizing for what his men had done, the Captain left him with his friends.
The every day life of an Indian village might at first sight appear as miserable, wretched and not worth living. However, in reality it is not so; for the poor Indians, in their wigwams, are as happy as lords can be in their great palaces, yes, nay frequently more. In fact their knowledge not extending much farther that to what they see, their aspirations are also very limited, their needs very few, these once satisfied, they do not expect more. Eminently conservative in all their habits, they wish but to be allowed to follow their aboriginal customs. Contented with the state of life in which providence has placed them, they enjoy themselves with their family, live in peace with their neighbors. Very lovable by nature, favor public games the chase being the great object of their live, they consider it their duty to devote all their energy to it.
Their nomadic life keeps them in a continual migratory state, and from the year to the end of it, they are on a continual wandering up and down the country, pitching their tents and forming their villages wherever they can secure a good pasture for their horses, these being their principal dependency for the chase of the buffalos. Having passed the winter in the forests along some running stream sheltered from blizzards, well supplied with fuel, the winter grass, and the tops of saplings offering plenty of food for their stock; spring coming they gup up on higher lands to escape the danger of being submerged by the periodical floods of the season. As soon as the soil awakes, as it were, from its long sleep of winter, new grass begins to tinge the prairies, and the trees are decked with new foliage, out they move, and scatter along the creeks, where the land is richer. Here the squaws going to work make their parterres, plant and cultivate few patches of sweet corn and pumpkins. When these have taken a good start, and are growing nicely, they all leave and during some 3 weeks, are wading through the ponds gathering flags to make their mats. Next returning to their little gardens, harvest their harvest their hardy ripe crops, and go to build their summer villages on the highest bluffs to enjoy the benefit of a cool breeze and be free from the annoyance of mosquitoes.
And now in the long summer days, they are not wasting their time idling around, but they are busy at work. Numbers of squaws will every morning go down to the valley, either to gather fire-wood, or to get a supply of fresh water. Meanwhile the old women will be steady at the mortar grinding their sweet corn to make their hominy; eithers will be squatting on the grass to weave their mats.
The children, of whom they have a large number, keep playing about shooting their arrows at birds and rabbits; and the largest boys are always on the lookout, each one tending the horses on his charge. And if the old men are allowed to pass their time in dolce far niente [2] it is not so with the young braves, for every parties of them, starting early in the morning, they make short excursions on the plains to get fresh meat for their families and friends. At last by the midday of September all once more pack up, and leave for the great hunt. This will keep them rambling after buffalos for about 3 months, and by the end of December they all return to their old winter quarters.
Some might think that such periodical moving from one place to another must at long run prove very troublesome to the poor Indians, but far from being so, it is rather congenial and healthy, for being almost an impossibility to preserve cleanness in villages where no hygiene provision are made, the frequent moving of all to some new spot of ground becomes a necessity. Moreover this also proves most beneficial to their numerous horses, for by this system, they are always provided with fresh pastures.
To the traders who are dealing with the Indians, this migratory life sometimes occasions considerable trouble and expenses, however by the end of the year, they are abundantly compensated, by the heavy percentage they make on their goods. And this the Indians are willing to pay, for they well understand in what a rough condition their traders are placed on their account, and as long as they try, by kindness and moderation, to accommodate them, they never ae the losers. For the Indians are very much like children. They do not care about keeping money, they never trouble themselves about the next day; what they have, they freely use, and when they get out of provisions, they are bound to have a new supply of them. Cost what it may cost, they will willingly pay wat is due the traders. Their bows and arrows being always a sure guarantee that they will honorably pay their debts.
If ever there has been a trader who knew the importance of being accommodating with the Indians, and who did at times make large profits by showing to rely on their honesty, it was most certainly Mr. Henry Cardon, a French man by descent, but born in Louisiana. By the end of last year having opened a trading post among the Osages, had now given charge of it to his partner Mr. William Godfroy, a clever young man from Detroit in Michigan. Mr. H. Cordon and his partner had first located their store not far from that of Messrs. Edward Chouteau and Pappin on Canville Creek, and as they were liberal, nay perhaps even prodigal with the Indians, they idolized them and gave them large patronage.
Mr. H. Cardon having learned that the Little-Osages last fall had a rich hunt, kept on hand a quantity of nice buffalo robes, thought better not to lose such a good chance, and moved his store close to their town, to prevent anybody else from securing that trade. His store was now on the left bank of Big Creek about two miles above its confluence in the Neosho. The locality was a charming one, and soon became the nucleus of a small settlement made up of 4 halfbreeds families, and a few flood blood Osages. Mr. H, Cardon, a real gentleman in all bearings, was a sport loving man, always agreeable, enterprising, full of activity, and never refusing a favor to anyone, in in his power. The only trouble with his was that in the discharge of these good qualities, his heart did no peep at par with his funds! Having learned from his mother that in giving alms, the left hand should not know what the right hand had given, he, misapplying this evangelical counsel; now and then would neglect to bring to book his extra donations and the consequence was, that more than once he had considerable trouble with those terrible drummers, who with most scrupulous punctuality, do at due time, fall upon the traders to collect bills to examine books, to see whether the ends do meet together. An instance of this kind happened at the beginning of this year to our friend Mr. H. Cardon, and nothing, but what I can call French adroitness, or better shrewdness, brought him out all right, at least for the time being.
On the last day of January, just about sun-down, a tidy looking young man, driving a nice two horse buggy, comes on the premises of Mr. Cordon. And introduces himself as a drummer of a wholesale St. Louis house, supplying goods to Indian traders. Mr. Cardon knows at once what kind of bird this is! He receives him very kindly, shows him to his small cottage, tells him to make himself at home, meanwhile he would see to his horses. By the time he returns, dark has set in. HE first congratulates the stranger for coming to pay him a visit and inquires from how far he has come that day? And hearing that he was coming from Fort Scott, “My friend” says he “you must be very hungry, four you did not see a single souse through the long 40 miles you have been travelling!” To this the drummer replied “You are right, I never did expect to have to run on such a lonesome road; I had not a morsel of bread with me, and what was worse, more than once I thought I was lost ; and how happy did I not feel, when from the top of a hill, I notice smoke arising from your house!” “Well, well exclaims Mr. Cordon, that was too bad! But come on. Let us now have some supper, for I know you stand in need of it.” Here they walked to another cabin close by where Mrs. Mojard, a French lady keeping house for the traders, had prepared a good repast, which if in the line of dainties could not be compared to a French restaurant, it was nevertheless remarkably well furnished with an abundance of exquisite nutritious food, served with the greatest imaginable cleanness. The drummer felt surprised at finding so much neatness in an Indian settlement.
During the supper the drummer informed Mr. Cordon about the object of his visit, and said that he wished to get through his business as soon as possible, that he might start on the afternoon of the next day for Osage Mission, where he had to collect a few bills from the merchants at that post. “This is all right.” Replies Mr. Cardon, “tomorrow morning we will settle all the accounts, and you will have plenty of time to go down to the Missionin the afternoon, for it is only 15 miles distant from here, and you cannot miss the road, for there is but one main travel road between the two places. And now meanwhile the drummer is eating in good earnest Mr. Cordon entertains him relating different exploits of the Osage emphasizing how acute the care, and how cunning then can be when they put their mind to steal some horses. He represents how sometimes they can also be very rough, and even cruel with the white man if they only can get a chance to catch him when he is unprepared to defend himself. This kind of talk is not very encouraging to the young drummer, whose all knowledge concerning Indians is arising from Indian wars story books.
Once supper is over they remain for a while chatting by the fireplace. At last Mr. Cordon tells to the fatigued you man “I suppose you need rest after such a long drive.” So saying, he shows him a neat room where he had a comfortable bed prepared for him, and wishing him good night he leaves him alone. The drummer now retiring, and though very tired, he can find no rest/ His mind being preoccupied by the terrible accounts of deeds of violence, and blood shed he heard during his supper. In his dozing, he sees magnified figures of Indians coming to attack the story, steal his horses, and scalp him! The confuse voices of young warriors from the next village, who are passing the long hours of a winter night, singing their war songs, keep him in a great excitement, and the pitiful wailing of desolate squaws, lamenting over the loss of their dear ones, make him feel quite nervous. He turns from one side to the other, but to no avail. At las, perhaps one hour before day-break, he falls asleep, and rests undisturbed till the noise made by and Indian woman in the next room, notifies him that it will soon be breakfast time.
The sun was just rising from the folding of long pale looking clouds, when he got out of the cabin to see whether all was right about his horses. He looks at them through the chinks of the log-stable in which they have been locked up the evening before, and noticing that they had plenty of feed, he is satisfied. “But where is my buggy gone?” says he to himself. “I left it here last night, wonder where did they put it?” He looks around, but cannot get a sight of it. This renders him very uneasy, and a number of suspicions begin to arise in his mind, when stepping on a rock to survey the country at large, he discovers the top of hi buggy, way far off in a bent of the timber. “There it is.” He cries out. “I knew” says he “that the novelty of such a rare vehicle in this country would draw the attention of those wild fellows, and surely the scoundrels who mad such a noise las night with their yelling and whooping must have had a great time in driving it up and down the prairie! But why did they leave it so far off? I am very much afraid that there is some thing wrong about it!” And saying this he starts toward the place to examine whether all was right. Bu alas, when he reaches the spot, he sees that one of the buggy’s wheels is mission. In his great astonishment at the sight, remains silent for a while, nodding his head up and down, at last says he “This is what I expected! Had they broken anything else, I would put up with it, but now where can I here get another wheel?” He next takes a careful view of the whole carriage, and seeing that there was no other mishap, he returns to the cottage most terribly excited.
There, meeting Mr. Cordon, he says “My friend, it is all done with me; I am busted!” “Why? How so? What is the matter?” replies the trader; “Why?” said he. Last night some wicked Indian boys must have bee running my buggy all over the country, and now ne wheel is missing! They most certainly have broken it to splinters running through rocky ravines. If I could at least find the fracture splinters, we might perhaps succeed in fixing them together, but who can tell what became of them?” At hearing tis Mr. Cordon seemed to be very much affected, and in sympathetic tune said “I declare this is too bad! I knew that there were mean boys around here, but I never expected they would play such a trick as this! However” he added, “Do not grieve too much upon this matter for a remedy can always be found for most all kind of evils, and there are great many ways of getting out of trouble. Any how let us not make things worse than they are. Come on now, and let us have some breakfast and afterward we shall see what can best be done.”
Presently both sat at the table, the poor drummer looks like a man who is expecting an attack from some enemy at every moment. He drinks in haste two cups of black coffee; he does not eat a morsel of anything, he appears to be very nervous, and one would think that he is getting out of his mind. At last he asked Mr. Cordon, whether any of the Mission mechanics might be able to put up some kind of wheel, that might help him to go as far as to Fort Scott. This his Mr. Cardon answers that to his knowledge no such mechanic could be found. “But” Says he “I cannot believe that the boys have broken the wheel, for though some of them are very wicked, I do not think whey would be so mean as to do that. I am rather of opinion that last night, after having run your buggy for a while, they drove down to that point of the timber where it sands, and for the sake of fun, they took off one of the wheels, and went to hide it somewhere, just to make a little money by it.” And indeed he was correct is saying this, for the whole mystery of the missing wheel was but stratagem of his own devise to distract the mind of the inexperienced drummer from the object for which he had come.
The breakfast being over, Mr. Cardon told the drummer “Now we must find out the missing wheel. My store-soldier, young Tajutze said he, is one of the best detectives we have among our Indians. I shall send him around among the young bucks and he may likely discover the conspiracy, if there be any.” “You are very obliging, replied the drummer, and I willingly will give 5 dollars to the one, who will bring back the wheel.” Mr. Cardon at once called on Tajutze, told him to pick up another young man, and got together to fine out the clear about this matter. Tajutze understood perfectly well what he had to do; and taking in his company of his friends by the name of Cawa-tonka, off they go.
Now the drummer becomes very restless being perplexed between hope and fear. He keeps pacing up and down up and down in front of the store looking in every direction to see whether he might discover the two young men returning. And just about noon he gets a glance of them on the far high prairie. He looks at them again and again. They seem to be rolling something before them. He doubts whether really he sees right of perhaps is mistaken. At last sure that he is not under an illusion, he calls on Mr. Cardon with a voice full of joyful emotion “Mr. Cardon, Mr. Cardon” shouted he, “They are coming; you were right after all. Those fellows found the wheel. O I am so glad!”
And then the drummer seemed to be more pleased than if he had found 100 dollars. He quick paid the two pucks the promised reward, and turning to Mr. Cardon, requested him to have the team hitched up and once, for he is bound to leave as soon as possible. To this Mr. Cardon objected very kindly; requesting him to delay till next morning, but he would not listen, and declared that he was bound to be at Osage Mission before evening. This was exactly what Mr. Cardon was wishing. Without making any farther remarks, he replies that he would at once go and see to the horses. “But meanwhile” said he “you better seat down and take some dinner, for you did not eat anything at your breakfast.” The drummer willingly accepts the invitation, and by the time he gets through with his meal, Mr. Cardon drives in, and stops in front of the house. The drummer feels jubilant at the sight of his buggy, he thanks Mr. Cardon for having treated him so kindly, and after a warm hand shaking, and repeated good-bye’s, he starts never thinking, even for a moment, either about the books he was to inspect or the bills he had to collect.
Mr. Cardon felt exultant on the grand success he had on this occasion; and after several days, being on business at the mission, he came to pay a visit to Father Schoenmakers, with whom he was very familiar and related to him, with some satisfaction, how he had got rid of that troublesome visitor. The Father could not help but laughing most heartily, at the shrewdness with which the whole affair hand been conducted. But after a while taking a serious attitude, he remarked that he could not approve what he had done, and this on the general principle, that one should never do to another, what he would not wish to be done by. And moreover, said he, “Be careful my friend, in playing such tricks, for mind what I will tell you, the wittiest men frequently are outwitted by person who never would have been suspected to be able to do so.” The good Father on this occasion without intending it, spoke as a prophet, for about the end of February it really did happen that our Friend Cardo, as the father had said.
The Osages being frequently found to be without bread, especially when out on the plains, they form time to time immemorial, do use dry tallow as a substitute for it. For this reason, tallow is a most important staple of trade for them, To get plenty of it is a special object of the summer hunt, for in that season the buffalos are generally very fat. Summer hunt had been a very rich one for the Little Osages. Of buffalos, they met with an uncommonly large quantity, all in excellent good condition, the consequence was that they not only got a very large supply of tallow, for their own use, but also could store away a great deal of it for trade.
As spring was now approaching, before moving their villages from the timber bottoms to the high prairies, the Osages thought better to dispose of the surplus of tallow they had, and bringing it to Mr. Cardon they exchanged it for provisions. Mr. Cardon felt proud at seeing that at last he had a good opportunity of settling some of his accounts with the wholesale house of Mr. Northrop and Chick of Kansas City. He willingly gave to the Osages all they wanted in exchange, and hired several half breed teamsters to bring the whole cargo to Kansas City.
The employs of the wholesale house gave three cheers for the Osage boys when they saw them coming with such an important freight. Here without any delay, meanwhile the boys were unloading, Mr. Northrop began to melt the tallow into large barrels to store it away. But to his great surprise, as well as of those who were helping him, it was noticed that the kettles, in which it was melted, there remained a heavy deposit of small limestone slabs. At first they could not make out how that could be, they however soon found out what the matter! They wondered how Mr. Cardon, a clever French man, as he was thought to be , could have been so simple as to buy such a quantity of tallow from the Osages, without first ascertaining whether the whole was a genuine article. This they declared was a masterly trick the Indians had played on him/ Having had a merry laugh on the whole affair, Mr. Northrup directed his clerks how they should be cautious in melting the balance, and at the same time should set apart all of the little slabs they would find. Having got through their work, the first weighed the pure tallow, and next the slabs. In making up the bill Mr. Northrup credited Mr. Cardon for 3,500 pounds of pure tallow, and at the foot of the bill, requested him to pay to the teamsters what was due for faithfully freighting to Kansas City about 1,000 pounds of limestone., for which the wholesale house had no use.
When the news of the expedition reached the Neosho, people had quite a jolly time at Mr. Cardon’s expense. But he took the matter very philosophically, he would not talk much about it, and putting up a cheerful countenance, as if nothing wrong had happened to him, looked upon the whole as a good lesson he had received, and from that time indeed he became more careful in his dealings with the Indians.
Spite of this, and several other mishaps of the kind, Mr. Cardon as well as Mr. Godfroy, were having a tolerable good trade, and though of late, they had become a little more economical in their expenses, the nevertheless knew how to be liberal at proper times.
Their store had now become a regular rendezvous for the Indians of that vicinity. Chiefs and counsellors would have met every day to idle their time chatting, smoking, singing and gambling. Most prominent among was a chief from Wantze-Waspe generally known as old Ballist. This brave, for such he had been in his young days in St. Louis, when that great metropolis was but a small French town. As he had acquired some facility in speaking the French language, he was occasionally employed as an interpreter by the traders. This had given him a kind of superiority of the other Indians, and he felt as being a man of some importance.
Mr. Cardon for a while did not object to the daily gatherings taking place in his store, thinking that the presence of those men might help to draw more customers. But having found out that the result was quite different, he requested Mr. Godfroy to see whether he might put an end to this nuisance, without however hurting the sensibility of the Indians. Mr. Godfroy was a genius in matters of this kind, and as he enjoyed full confidence among the Osages, was the best man to reestablish order on the premises. His imagination was rich and as he was pacing up and down, studying on what he should do, he found out a stratagem, which in his opinion might clear the house of all those sycophants. On the next day, he proposed his plan to Mr. Cardon, who approved of it and added “William, if you do succeed in your scheme, you will deserve a civic crown!”
On the next morning Mr. Godfroy is coming to the store later than usual, and his appearance is so excited as to show that something strange must have happened to him. The Osages at once surround him, asking what may be the matter with him; whether perhaps he got bad news from his people; and as the difficulties between the norther man, and southern were growing every day more and more entreated, they wish to know whether the white people were going to have a war? But here, old Ballist stands up, and assuming great authority, tells them to shut up and leave Mr. Godfroy alone.
Next turning to him with familiar expressions, asks him whether perhaps he was sick? To this Mr. Godfroy answers, that he was not. “But I am bothered” Said he “on account of a bad dream I had last night.” These few words puzzled the Osages who now crowding on him, beg him t tell them the dream. To satisfy them he replies that if they would promise to behave themselves, and not interrupt him, he would tell them all. On their assurance that they would he spoke as follows.
“My dream was a terrible one.” Said he “I dreamed that I was laying very sick, nay on the point of death! When all at once two demons came and took me down to Hell! O what a desolate country did I see! It looked like an immense plain, no grass was growing on it, but long flames red, white blue, green and yellow were shooting out from numbers of large crevices very close one to the other. On that plain I saw a great crowd of people of all colors and age; they were all stripped and running to and fro, trying to escape the flames issuing from the ground, but to no use, for a number of devils, all armed with pitch-forks, were not allowing any one of them to get out. The confusion was horrible, for those coming forward meeting those who were running away from the devils, they would fall one on the other and remain enveloped by the flames that were coming out of the ground. I never saw such a distressing sight! Clouds of smoke were here and there arising from the burning mass of people; the air was sickening, my ears were deafened by the piercing screams of that doomed multitude. My heart was throbbing with most excruciating anxiety at the thought that no body was allowed to give any relief to those unfortunate people.
Here the two demons hurried me down in a deep underground cave, where Satan himself was seating on a big blazing iron chair, encircled by big rattlesnakes twisting themselves around his legs and arms, biting him mercilessly. On both his sides, I noticed seven chairs of red hot iron. I shuddered at the sight and asked Satan for whom were those seats prepared? And he answered that they were ready for the principal Chiefs of the Osages, and he named 14 (?) of them. As I did not hear the name of old Ballist, I asked him whether there was any room for him. At hearing this Satan shook his head and said, “I know whom you mean! That old rogue who keeps up a disturbance about you store, and wants to be bossing over ever body, I have a place for him too! When he will drop down here I shall let him have my very chair I am seating on now, and I do assure you that these snakes shall server him right!”
“In hearing this, I felt too much excited, that I trembled all over and got awake! I looked all around and I need not tell you how happy I did feel when I saw that I was yet in my bed.”
Now Godfroy changed the subject of his conversation, and began to attend to his regular business as usual. But what followed did evidently show that he had not spoken in vain. The narrative so struck old Ballist , as well as the chiefs who were present, that on after the other all gradually went out and from that day, to the great satisfaction of Mr. Cardon and his partner they gave up loitering around the store.
This winter more than one of our poor settlers would have suffered exceedingly had not been of the supply of dry meat which they did purchase from the Osages who having had a good hunt last fall, they could easy spare them what they needed. The trouble however was that the most ordinary article of exchange given them by the white was liquor and this generally of the worse kind.
The U.S. Agent, whose duty was to prevent its introduction in the nation, was unable to attend to it in person, on account of residing at 50 miles distance among the Quapaw’s. Truly he had appointed substitutes to see to it, but there, some way or other, were to lenient in enforcing the law. The consequence was that an amount of whiskey was being daily brought in, and no body seemed to know it was smuggled in.
The result of this abuse soon proved to be terrible. The Osages, like most all other Indians, once they taste of the fire water, seem to lose their reason, and will drink to excess. On account of it, this winter the nation lost several men. And no wonder, for once intoxicated, they would not mind to lay down for the night, either in the woods, or on the high prairies, exposed to the sudden changes of the weather, without any shelter against the terrible Kansas blizzards. And more than once on the morning some poor Indian would be found frozen to death, or in such miserable condition that he would die after few days.
Death of Gratamantze. If the number of Osages that died through their intemperance during this winter was considerable, that of those, who were carried away by the scurvy in the spring was not inferior! In fact, with the opening of the season, we hear of great many complaining, of hard suffering, on account of general stiffness in their limbs. Father Schoenmakers is going around from lodge to lodge trying to help the afflicted, giving them all the assistance in his power, but to no use. By the middle of March, the tops of the high bluffs siding the Neosho, look of being covered with battlements, so many are the graves arising in every direction. Each town had someone to lament. Among the victims that fell, Gratamantze, the Head Chief of the nation was the most remarkable. Gifted of very good common sense, he was just and kind in his administration. His constitution being strong and healthy, he never would take much care of himself; but when at last the fatal symptoms of the prevailing distemper made their appearance, he had to surrender himself to the Doctors.
Gratamantze had always shown a great respect for Father Schoenmakers, and in any matter of importance he would act according to his advice. Knowing very well how skillful a nurse he was, and how many Indians he had successfully treated in their sicknesses, now that this own case had become critical, he wished to he brought to the mission, that he might receive all the medical assistance he well knew the father would willingly give him.
His wigwam was raised in but few steps of our dwelling house, and the Father could be seen ministering to him by day and by night, watching him most carefully and trying by all possible means to assuage his pains. But the whole of his blood had by this time been poisoned, and apparently seemed to have stopped circulating in his veins. The many pustules, which now over a month, had marked his skin, had become disgusting ulcers. He has become a total wreck. His mind however being as yet perfectly sound, the Father seeing no hope of improving the condition of his body, tries by all means that of his soul, and to prepare him for death.
With loving words he represented to him his dangerous condition, and tells him in clear expressions that his recovery is despaired off. But at the same time he bids him not to be desponding nay rather to renew his belief in God, and trust his life into his hands. He recalls to his mind those eternal truths, which he firmly believed when in his young days, just now 33 years ago he had been baptized by Father Charles F. Van Quickenborne in St. Stanislaus house near Florissant. He recalls to his mind the happiness he then experienced, and assures him that if he does but repent, and confess is sins, God will be most merciful to him. The zeal which animated the words of the Father touched the heart of the dying chief, and as if an electric spark and run through his broken system, he seems to be animated with a new life. His eyes bright up, and his countenance is cheered by the expectation of that eternal life he had almost lost of sight. His heart feels encouraged with the hope infused in him by that religion, whose rules and teachings, thought he as disregarded for many years, he never had denied! Following the Fathers advises, in spirit of true repentance, he receives the last sacraments of the Church, and dies perfectly resigned to God’s will, the 12 of March, being about 48 years old.
On the death of Gratamantze, Little White Hair became the Head Chief of the Big and Little Osages, in place of Watcie-Chahickie (?), the son of the Great Chief Pawnee-no-pah-she, who should have succeeded by right but was not of yet of age. This White Hair was surnamed Little, on account of his small stature. He was a good honest man, but being sickly and half blind, never made much of a show in his nation. He lived in his town called Little-Town.
Hardly one month had passed since the death of Gratamantze, when the report of the first cannon fired from Fort Sumter, on the 12th April, resounding link a thunder clap from the infernal regions, and reverberating from the far Rocky Mountains, fills the whole of our peaceful country with horrible confusion! The Indians are bewildered, hearing of the fratricidal strife already going on among our neighbors in western Missouri and wonder what the end of this will be.
Rumors of War. The war excitement now spread all over like a wild fire, and the hunting grounds of the red man, are changed into military drilling camps. Here however the war is not carried on with any well ordered system, and the belligerent far from being regular troops, they are but independent factions of wrenched men, who at times call themselves Confederate militia, and again go under the name of Union Soldiers. In reality they are only bands of desperados, who have nothing to lose and aim at plunder.
Now both these factions wishing to get recruits from the Osages, have their agents going around the Indian villages, promising large bounties to all those who will enroll in their companies; and fearing least Father Schoenmakers influence might induce them to decline their offerings, and remain neutral, the leaders of these bands in their secret meetings determine that the Father should at once be considered an enemy of their cause, and put out of the way by assassination.
The fear however of the Father’s influence was only a sham pretext, the real cause was the greediness those men hand for the treasures they supposed the Father had accumulated, and secreted in the houses, and they thought tat by killing him and dispersing the balance of us all, they could (?) succeed in possessing themselves of a large booty. To carry on their plan with an appearance of honesty, they needed some plausible reason to show that the killing of the Father had been a necessity of the war. For ours being a government institution, it was to be expected that our superior should be in favor of the Union, and this was enough to make him appear of a declared enemy of the Confederacy. And behold that h truly Christian charity of the good Father soon offered them an occasion to execute the most wicked intent and they would certainly have succeeded, had not got in his mercy thwarted their plans.
At the very outbreak of the war, President Lincoln, wishing to conciliate the Indians boarding on the Kansas frontiers, dispatched a special commissioner to visit the, and provide for their wants. This extra-commissioner with his servitors were directed by the President to go take possession of the Quapaw Agency, locate at some 50 miles southeast of our mission. These gentlemen having reached our place without any opposition, did not dare to venture any farther by themselves alone, for fear of falling into the hands of hostile parties, then roving through that country. For this reason they requested Father Schoenmakers to be so kind as to accompany them, or rather to be their guide to the Quapaw Agency, feeling confident that no one would interfere with the Father, on account of his being so much know.
Father Schoenmakers was a man who would never refuse to accommodate anyone, if he only had an opportunity of so doing. Hence, though in this special case, he foresaw the possibility of some risk, he nevertheless offered his services most willingly. They started and reached the Quapaw Agency without meeting any difficulty. The Commissioner and his secretary were very thankful to the Father for having brought them safely to their destination and not doubting that they would be able to comply with their charge, without any farther assistance of the father, they bid him farewell and he returned to us.
The Indians, as well as the white-settlers around the Agency noticed the (?) of the Father in company of two strangers and made no remarks about it. But when they found out, that the Father had left, and the two gentlemen who had come with him, were remaining at the Agency, they became suspicious, and wished to know what their business might be. And having discovered what their character was, the alarm was given, and indignation meeting was held, inflammatory speeches were delivered, and it was openly declared that President Lincoln had no right to send there any of his officers. Hence, the passion of the people became greatly excited, a party is made on the spot, and the resolution is unanimously adopted that both the Commissioner and his secretary must be hung that very night.
Fortunately the Commissioner got wind of the conspiracy in time, and early in the evening he and his secretary succeeded in making their escape. Hardly one hour had passed since they had left when an infuriated mob surrounded the Agency, filling the air with horrible yells and curses. Full confident that the two strangers were hiding in the building, they rushed in and ransacked the whole place, but finding no body. , and nevertheless believing that they were secreted in some of the houses, they conclude to set fire to the Agency, and so they did. Jubilant at the idea that the two strangers were now most certainly burning in the midst of the great conflagration that had excited, they pass that night in barbarous orgies, threatening death to anyone who would dare to interfere with the new government inaugurated by the Confederacy.
Meanwhile this is going on; the Commissioner and his secretary are out of reach. A light glare illuminating the sky at a great distance, like an aurora borealis, tells them that the Agency, which was to be their residence, is turning into ashes. They feel thankful for their narrow escape; and wiser that Lot’s wife, they do not trust themselves to turn their head, even for a moment, to take a sight of the fire. They keep on traveling the whole night, and on the next morning they return to our mission. Father Schoenmakers, receiving them again with great cordiality, supplies them with whatever they need for their journey, and having rested for a couple of hours, they continue on their way to Humboldt in Allen County where there is no longer any danger for them, that place being garrisoned by Union Troops.
And now the wicked men, who were looking for a pretext to justify their coming to plunder and destroy our mission, felt happy, for the circumstance, was just of the kind they wanted. In their opinion our superior had betrayed them into the hands of their enemies, and on account of this very fact, he deserved to be court martialed, and put to death. Nay, one of the leading men, becoming very violent, swore before the excited crowd that he would give 500 dollars to anyone who would kill him! If the poverty of the miserable settlers, then living on the wester boundaries of the state of Missouri be taken into consideration, the sum offered for the assassination of the Father was a very large one, and it was no wonder if more than on would be found ready to commit such a crime. At once a plan of attack was concocted, and the prospect of a sure success, was smiling on them, when divine providence came to interfere in defense of the innocent Father.
Fr. Schoenmakers' Exile. A young Osage half-breed, who and been raised by Father Schoenmakers at the Mission School, by chance heard of this plot, and had too noble a heart not to feel indignant. Gratitude compels him to save the life of the one, by whom, he had been educated. Besides love and esteem for the persons with whom he had been associated for several years, when living with us, urges him to make use of all means in his power to save the father’s life, and prevent, if possible, the ruin of the mission. To this effect he quickly dispatched one of his friends with a message to notify the father about the danger he was in.
The messenger reached the Mission on the 21st of June. At 7 p.m. the man who had brought it, delivered it to Father Schoenmakers, who having perused it, thanks the carrier and having dismissed him, without showing the least excitement in his countenance, he handed the note to Father James C. Van-Goch, and next to me, requesting us to tell him what he should do. The matter was a very serious one. We felt that a heavy responsibility was laying on us, and for a while we could not speak a word! But there was no time to lose in vain speculations, something was to be done and we agreed that he should try to save his life by leaving the Mission at once. The Father reflected for a few minutes, and without any agitation replied that he would follow our advice.
A most heavy rain storm which had begun about sun-down was now raging in all its fury; but no attention was paid to it. The best racer we had in our stables, is soon saddled, and exactly 8 o’clock p.m. the Father is off, bound for Humboldt, some 30 miles north west of our mission. Spite of the great darkness prevailing, and the rain, which keep pouring down in torrents, the Father succeeds in making his way safely during that terrible night, and about 7:30 of the next morning, he finds himself in the midst of his friends in Humboldt. Having taken a much need rest, he resumes his journey, and by the end of the month he reaches St. Mary’s Mission among the Pottawatomie’s.
The storm of that memorable night was a real Godsend for all. The mob intending to come to assassinate the Father and destroy our Mission had made every thing ready to leave from Spring River in Jasper County, Missouri, on the 22 of June. But all of their calculations were baffled by the unexpected freshet, which lasted without and interruption for nearly 3 days, and flooded the whole country, to such an extent as to render impossible to travel. For all of the creeks were over their banks, the bottom lands along Spring River, as well as the Neosho, were for miles turned into ponds and lakes, the common roads had become so soaked with water that for over two weeks the best horse team could hardly pull an empty wagon through them. This sudden change disconcerted the mind of those murderous people, and forced them to give up their plans. As the war was daily making new development and men were badly needed by the different factions then being formed, those who had conspired against us were now hived to engage in other expeditions far east into Missouri. By this unexpected turn of circumstances, our enemies were dispensed to our great advantage.
By the beginning of July these belligerent parties, so far consisting of independent bands of mercenaries, hardly knowing who is their leader, and for whom they are fighting, the become organized into regular companies, these are growing into regiments, and volunteers, battalions, and as by magic in a very short time, two most formidable armies stand equipped on a war footing, one is known as the Army of the Southern Confederacy, the other that of the Union. The different states, almost equally divided according to their respective interests, either in favor or against slavery are taking the field to defend their rights. Skirmishes at once became events of ordinary occurrence. One day the Confederates are bitten, on the next the Union men meet with variances. Success is fluctuating between the two. Warlike spirit is developing, many deeds of bravery, worthy of a better cause, are daily performed. The ranks of soldiers decimated on the battle fields, are soon filled up by new recruits. War is the cry that fills the air, and the whole of our most beautiful country finds itself involved in the worse of civil strife’s.
The Indian Territory, south as well as west of Kansas, now becoming the natural boundary of a very extensive battle field, and as our mission, like an oasis in the center of interminable plains, if one of those few localities, were marching troops, straggling scouts, or military trains can repair their outfits, and receive assistance. This makes a great halting point for friends and foe, who in a moment of need, are always willing to unfurl the white flag, no matter where, but much more so on our grounds, well knowing that our Mission is like a neutral harbor, where party animosity are forgotten and kind hospitality is extended equally to all. In few months we become used to this sort of visitors who come to us by day and by night, calling either for food or medicines.
So for most perfect security and respect for personal property had existed in our territory, neither the Indian wigwam, nor the half breeds cabin needed any lock or bar to protect them against an evil intentioned passer. But this really golden age has now become a thing of the past, never more to return. For this war has flooded the country with persons of very bad character, who have not the least scruple of entering any house they can break in, to plunder it.
Those few of our full-blood Osages, who of late had applied themselves to agriculture, now see their houses and all their improvements destroyed by roving incendiaries; their oats and corn fields are turned into pastures for cavalry horses; their hogs and cattle are butchered by unruly troopers. The poor Indians feel waxed and provoked at the sight of such ravages, and well knowing that it is useless for them to look for any reparation, for the suffered damage in their despair abandon their homes, and scatter on the plains to depend again on hunting for their living. Only few families remain at not a great distance from our mission, camping on small, out of the way streams, where game is as yet plenty. Spite of all these troubles, their confidence in us is not diminished; and meanwhile they leave us to avoid meeting with white soldiers, they trust in our hands quite a number of children, full confident that they will be safe. In the weight of such an excitement, peace reigns undisturbed on our premises. Our school, as well as that of the near convent, are keeping on the usual routine and at recess-time you would be amused to see how nicely the little boys can now paly soldiers! At the very outbreak of the way, a considerable number of Osages had withdrawn far west toward the mountains to avoid having any difficulty with the belligerent parties. However, they gradually returned nearer to us, and formed two different settlements, on the banks of the Cimarron, the other of those the Washita in the Indian Territory.
Of the best warriors of the nation, some 200 were enrolled in a battalion, and were annexed to the Kansas Volunteers. Most of the able-bodied half-breeds, and all our school boys, were in age to stand military service, joined the IX Regiment of Kansas Volunteer Cavalry. These past made very good soldiers, but to what concerns the full-blooded Osages forming the battalion, they soon proved to be unfit for any well-organized army. Having no idea of discipline, the would not submit to regimental regulations, moreover, as the insisted on having their wives and children with them, they were a great encumbrance in all warlike expeditions. For this reason they were all discharged, with the exception of few, who were detained to act as scouts.
Military discipline was now being enforced, wherever these new troops were stationed. But spite of it, things in general were moving on in a very bad shape. Civil courts seemed to have lost all of their authority; wicked men getting the advantage offered them by the war’s excitement, would go around robbing their neighbors, and doing all sorts of mischief.
On the 27th of August, about 4 o’clock p.m. seven regular outlaws attack our premises, and after handling me in a rather unceremonious way, claim the right of searching the Mission houses, nay even the Sisters Convent to find out, so they say, Captain John Matthews [3], who is reported to be hiding with us. That this was only a mean pretext, and that in reality they were after plunder, it soon becomes evident, for once they get into our rooms, they forget all together the Captain they were looking after, and begin to examine our chests, and private desks to see whether they can find anything of value. But of neither money nor jewelry come to their hands, disappointed makes them violent. They abuse and threaten us, nay the Chief to the gang levels his pistol at my head, apparently determined to kill me, when providentially several half-breeds come in the room. At their sight the brigands understand very well, that if they would dare to hurt any of us, those men would take our defense, for this reason they at once drop their arms, apologize and decamp.
Stand Watie Visit. [4] Now Osage Mission has become a great rendezvous for warlike, expeditions. One day we are visited by Union Troops, and on the next by Confederacy. Sometimes both parties happen to call on us the same day. One night a few cavalry men, belonging to a detachment of Wisconsin Volunteers camping on the banks of Flat Rock, quite near us, overtake a party of Confederates who are on the point of stealing our horses. The noise of the troops, who in the stillness of the hour, are galloping up the hill to our defense, comes so unexpected to the Knight of the White Feather (as the guerillas were called) that they at once abandon their pray, just by the stables door, and run for their life. Bothe parties are for a while chasing one another in the dark over the prairie west of the mission, exchanging few shots, but once the Confederates reach the timber belt, which runs along the Neosho, the Wisconsin boys learning that they might be derived into some snares, give up the pursuit and return to their camp.
On the 8 of September a body of about 200 Confederates under the lead of Colonel Stand Watie, a Cherokee half-breed and two white men acting as Captains, Mr. Livingston and Mr. John Matthews, came to pay us a visit just at 2 o’clock p.m. We felt a little uneasy at their appearance, for thought it was Sunday, we know very well, that they were not coming to attend at Vespers. But the 3 officers of this band did not intend to give us any trouble. In fact, calling on us, they assured us of their esteem and tell us that we need not fear anything. For they were going to have a meeting with the Osages, at the residence of Mr. Joseph Swis (?), four miles farther west, and at the same time they would take part in the wedding feast of Mr. Louis Chouteau, who had just married a Cherokee young lady.
So, they were saying, but the real object of their expedition was to make a raid on the town of Humboldt in Allen County, to retaliate for damages the Union men had inflicted on them in west Missouri. They went to camp for the night at the old crossing of Four Mile Creek, due west of our mission, and to leave, as it were, a mark of having been there, about day light of the next morning they hung a poor white man, a stranger, who happened to fall into their hands during the night. This done, they started at full gallop for Humboldt. They took the town by storm, and no wonder, for most all the men able to carry arms, were out in Missouri under command of General T. H. Lane. Meeting with no opposition, but rather with full success at every step, they kidnapped a few Negros, plundered several stores, and houses of all the valuable they could find and satisfied with their booty, hurried out of town that night, with their captives.
Among the rich spoils they had taken, there were more than on kegs of whisky, and it was not surprising if the next day by the time those men reached our mission, they were all in very high spirits, quite boisterous, and all most anxious to get a drink of fresh water. Knowing that in our yard we had an excellent well, as soon as they touch our premises, all alighted, and rushed to the well for a drink. Captain John Matthews came in with his men, and seeing me, began to apologize for the liberty, said he, they had taken of entering the yard without being invited; next taking me aside he asked me, whether it was true that Father Schoenmakers had got to St. Louis? To this I replied that he has first gone to St. Mary’s Mission and from there to St. Louis. Hearing this, he said, “Father you know well, that I have always been a friend of this mission, and I am very sorry that the rumor has been circulate, that I have put a price on the Father’s head! But can you believe that I would ever have dared to commit such a crime? And stain my hands with the innocent blood of him, who with so much love and care has educated my children?” He was going to say more when being called by some of his party he left me.
Noticing that a large number of those drunken men had gathered around the well, I also went there. As it could be the expected, I heard them talking some very improper language, and declaring that they were bound to visit the Convent, which stood hardly 50 yards apart for the well. On hearing this, I remarked, that being then about 3 o’clock p.m. the girls were yet all at work with the Sisters, and It would be unbecoming for them to go to interfere with them. But the wretched sneered at me, saying that they would go in to help them? This placed me in a very painful position, for if they really would attempt to go in, I could not answer for what might next have been the result of such a visit.
Meanwhile, in the perplexity of my heart, I was praying to send his angel to protect those pure souls, to who I could offer no assistance. And Lo! Captain John Matthews is returning towards me! As soon as he is by me, I call on his attention; “Captain.” Said I “Look at these men, spite of my remonstrance’s to the contrary, they talk of going to visit the Convent. Now, what do you think of it? Do you think that is right?” Here the Captain stretched himself, and taking the attitude of a man who is going to wrestle, he clinched his fists, and cursing the crowd, he says “What? You vulgar set of scoundrels, you dare to talk of going to visit the Convent, where those angels of Sisters are educating our daughters? Shame on you dirty fellows! Clear out from here quick, and go to mind your horses, or I shall shoot some of you before we leave this place.” The men knew their Captain well, the considered him the best marksman in the country, and left on the spot.
Once they had all gone, John Matthews told me “Father, we shall leave in 10 minutes and shall got to camp for the night 8 miles east of this place on Hickory Creek. And you do not need to be uneasy, For I shall have a line of sentries around the camp, with positive orders, to shoot anyone who would dare to cross that line to come up to give you any trouble.” Having said this, he shook hands with me, and off he went to his command.
If John Matthews ever was accountable for the threats, which in a moment of party excitement, he had made against the life of Father John Schoenmakers, the noble and really gallant part he acted on this occasion to defend the Sisters Convent, and prevent them from being dishonored, deserves him our warmest thanks, and compels us to look upon him as our very great Benefactor.
No sooner did the Humboldt Volunteers, who were out in western Missouri with General F.H. Lane; hear of the raid the Confederacy had made on their town, that they organized a Company to start their pursuit. But well knowing that it was too late to overtake and punish the men, who had any part in it, for on their return to Spring River they had all disbanded and concluded to have their vengeance on Captain John Matthews, who was considered to have been the most influential leader of that expedition.
By the end of September a volunteer Company under the command of General J.G. Blunt came from Fort Scott to our Mission, looking for Captain John Matthews, and hearing that he was at his residence down the Neosho River near Little White Hairs town, they bivouac on our premises, and before the dawn of the next day, they resume their march following an old Indian trail through the woods to avoid being noticed by any body.
Here, different accounts are given concerning this expedition. According to some, General Blunts men at an early hour stormed Mr. Matthews’s house, and while he was trying to defend himself, General Blunt shot him dead. However, this is not correct. For it does not agree with the account I myself received from J. Matthews daughter, at that time living with him.
John Matthews Death. According to her testimony, J. Matthews, knowing that he had a great many enemies, who were looking for an opportunity to kill him, he would seldom sleep for two consecutive nights in the same place, but kept always moving, with a bodyguard of his braves from one house to another. The very day before he was assassinated, having heard that several suspicious characters had been loitering not far from his residence, he thought prudent to move, and went 8 miles down south, to pass the night with Mr. Louis Rogers, which stood where now stands the city of Chetopa.
J. Mathews thought nobody had noticed his movement, but he was mistaken. His enemies had seen him from the ambushes where they were hiding, and guided by a young man, whose name was John Burk, early on the next morning, they attacked the house in which he was sleeping, and as John Matthews was in the act of raising his rifle in his defense, he was shot dead by John Burk, and was buried not far from the spot where he fell. At his death he was 52 years old. After he had been killed, John Burk with his party, went to J. Matthews residence, and having taken from it as well as from his store, whatever was worth anything, they set fire to the buildings, and the conflagration that followed, Little White Hair’s town was completely destroyed.
This was the end of a man, who for many years labored hard to raise a large family of children, as well as to promote the welfare of the Osages. Had he kept himself from taking part in political strife, into which he was involved by the generosity and liberality of his heart, he might have enjoyed his old age with his children, and grandchildren, on the homestead his industry and energy had provided (?) him. But alas! His children were left orphans, his property was destroyed, the land to which he had a good title was taken away by strangers, the Indian settlement which was prospering under his guidance has disappeared and nothing is left to mark the spot where it was, but a humble and undisturbed grave of his younger daughter, lovely little Annie! How bright and sweet that child was! Just eleven years, seven months and 2 days old was she when being playing with her companions, not far from her father’s house, the fire which had been lurking through the grass communicated itself to her dresses, and at once she was enveloped in the flames, her screams drew immediate assistance, but not quick enough to save her life. She had inhaled the flames, he doom was sealed! On the 1st of April, 1857, her soul purified indeed by fire, took her fly to heaven!
To what concerns John Burk, I shall record to his everlasting shame, that he was one of the worse characters that ever did disgrace American soil and his heart must have been that of a tiger, not of a man. Previous to this event, he was for a time a school teacher in one of the Cherokee nation public schools, but being bound to fly away from that country, not to fall into the hands of a mob of infuriated people who were going to hang him, on account of some shameful crime he had committed, he ran to shelter himself under the hospitable roof of John Matthews, who thought a stranger to him, being however much respected by all of the Indians, might by his influence succeed in pacifying the mob and saving his life.
Burk was not mistaken. J. Matthews’ words tranquilized the excited crowd, he gave guarantee for his future behavior, and the man was left unmolested, and free to go around the country. But, as it is most frequently the case with men of such character, instead of getting better, be became worse. The presence of his benefactor, being a continual rebuke to his infamy, he anxiously looked for some opportunity to get rid of him and now meeting with that expedition with General Blunt, he joined it, nay became its guide; and escorted by this went to murder his benefactor. Blood always calls for more blood! Hardly one month had passed since this assassination had taken place, when being pursued by J. Matthews’ avengers, he was overtaken far west, and was shot dead, just at the moment he was trying to hide himself behind a bush. His body was left unburied to be the pray of varmints, and his name shall be in execration for ever! A terrible, but just retribution!
The good success that accompanied the Confederacy in their first raid on Humboldt encouraged them to attempt a second one. This time they are determined to destroy the whole town. This expedition is conducted by Colonel Talbot, a Missourian, and his command amounts to some 350 men. At noon of the 14 of October they dash into Humboldt the troops that were there stationed with General Blunt, apprehending no danger of any attack, had all left. A body of home guards, all together about 100 men under the command of Captain Miller and Lieutenant Charles Boland, are the only defense left to the town. The quickness with which Talbot’s brigade did rush in, raises such a panic that in the midst of the great confusion at once prevailing, far from taking arms, several of them made their escape. However, Captain Miller, as well as his lieutenant, succeed in rallying up the few that are left of the company, and taking a stand, they resist the invading party. But outnumbered, and encompassed by Talbot’s men, they are bound to capitulate; they are disarmed, and taken prisoners. Now Captain Miller, seeing that all was lost, calls on Col. Talbot. He acknowledges his superiority and declares that he and his company are willing to submit to their fate! But at the same time he entreats him to be merciful and spare the women and children, for they have injured nobody.
Col. Talbot was by no means a cruel man. All he wanted was to avenge the death of his friend John Matthews, and to retaliate for the burning of the town of Osceola in Missouri by General Lane. For this reason, replying to Captain Miller, he said that he did not want to kill anybody, unless armed resistance would make him.
On that spot he ordered his soldiers to take all the goods they could find in the stores. Next, he allows some of his men to help the women and children to move their valuables and household goods from their dwellings to a large house at some distance, where they would have a shelter. This done, the whole town was set on fire, with the exception of the churches, and also a Masonic Hall, besides some few residences scattered about, which could not be reached without disbanding his men on too large and extent of ground.
Col. Talbot fearing least (?) in the night he might be surprised by Union troops, coming down from the north would not allow his men to bivouac on the place, but left that very evening with his brigade, taking with him quite a number of prisoners. These, however, he did not intend to keep. In fact after marching them for a few miles, he released them all. On the next morning, about 10 o’clock was passing triumphantly on our premises, on his way to Missouri, and was followed by 200 wagons carrying all the booty he had taken.
Threat on Fr. Van Goch. On the 7 of December my dear friend and companion Father James C. Van Goch, who at that time was visiting the Catholic Families in the vicinity of Fort Scott, had a narrow escape from the hands of a company of drunken Union men, who about 3 o’clock p.m. attacked him on the high way, took his horse, and having ordered him to kneel down, they would most certainly have shot him, had it not been for the sagacity of their Captain Mr. Bell, who was the only sober man of the party. Thus seeing that his soldiers were determined on killing the Father, remonstrated that they were not allowed to do any such thing, without first giving him a fair trial. “Let us” said he, “bring our prisoner to the camp, there we shall hold a court-martial, and condemn him to be shot, doing so we will be all right.” This suggestion proved satisfactory to all. The Father was ordered to get again on his horse, and surrounded by those unruly fellows, who were sneering at him, and cursing him at every step, at last they reached the camp.
Here the Captain told the men to unsaddle their horses, and bring them down in the valley along the creek, where there was, as yet, some good grazing ground left. “This done, said he, “come up and we shall have a court-martial on the Father!” The men yelling like a gang of wild Indians now started down the hill to comply with the orders they had received. As soon as they got out of sight, the Captain addressing the Father with great respect and kindness told him not to fear, and asked him where he wanted to go? The Father replied that he was on his way to the residence of a Catholic family, where he was expected to have Mass on the next morning. Then the Captain answered “Well Father, let us go at once, we will soon be there.” Both started on a gallop, and in short time reached the house, where the Father was expected, and there apologizing for what his men had done, the Captain left him with his friends.
Some Reference Information.
1. "Diamond fine script." I first saw this term in the bibliography of Sister Mary Paul Fitzgerald's Book Beacon on the Plains (Copyright 1939, The Saint Mary College). On page 272 she writes "Without the writings of Father Paul Mary Ponziglione, S.J., (IX - P77), this study would not have been possible as the basic material has been culled from his numerous notebooks. Most of these notebooks are of the home-made variety, folded sheets of paper that have been sewed together, on which Father Ponziglione has written his accounts in a diamond-fine script. With his thirty-eight years of service at the mission, he was necessarily an authority not only of the work among the Indians but also on the early history, ecclesiastical and civil, of the white settlements in southeastern Kanas. ...." Little did I know when I read that years ago, that I would be reading that script carefully, in transcribing his work.
For anyone interested in getting familiar with our glorious local story I story, I strongly recommend Beacon on the Plains. It is well written, compact and very well laid out. It is truly "Osage Mission 101."
2. "Dolce far niente" is an Italian phrase about life. Seldom used in by Italians in a serious context, it is the art of doing nothing — the essence of doing nothing and enjoying it. It is also a poem by Finnish poet Aero Hellaakoski, a 1999 film, and a California wine.
1. "Diamond fine script." I first saw this term in the bibliography of Sister Mary Paul Fitzgerald's Book Beacon on the Plains (Copyright 1939, The Saint Mary College). On page 272 she writes "Without the writings of Father Paul Mary Ponziglione, S.J., (IX - P77), this study would not have been possible as the basic material has been culled from his numerous notebooks. Most of these notebooks are of the home-made variety, folded sheets of paper that have been sewed together, on which Father Ponziglione has written his accounts in a diamond-fine script. With his thirty-eight years of service at the mission, he was necessarily an authority not only of the work among the Indians but also on the early history, ecclesiastical and civil, of the white settlements in southeastern Kanas. ...." Little did I know when I read that years ago, that I would be reading that script carefully, in transcribing his work.
For anyone interested in getting familiar with our glorious local story I story, I strongly recommend Beacon on the Plains. It is well written, compact and very well laid out. It is truly "Osage Mission 101."
2. "Dolce far niente" is an Italian phrase about life. Seldom used in by Italians in a serious context, it is the art of doing nothing — the essence of doing nothing and enjoying it. It is also a poem by Finnish poet Aero Hellaakoski, a 1999 film, and a California wine.
John Allen Mathews
3. John Allen Mathews. First of all, Father Ponziglione spelled John Mathews' name with two "t's" (Matthews) throughout the chapter. I left it as he wrote it. John Mathews, born in 1809 was a native Kentuckian. He lived in Missouri for a time and then moved to Kansas where he settled and started a trading post at Blacksmith Town, later known as Little Town, now known as Oswego. Mathews is generally considered to be the founder of the town of Oswego. Mathews had a very close relationship with the Osage people. He married two Osage wives and his children were educated at the Osage Mission schools. He was also a slave-holder, Confederate sympathizer and was commissioned as a Captain in the Confederate Army.
Mathews has received both poor and good grades with historians with regard to his relationship with Father John Schoenmakers. Many accounts place the blame for Father Schoenmakers' assassination plan and Father's subsequent nine-month exile on Mathews shoulders. Clearly, Father Ponziglione is on the other side of the fence. From his writing, here, he believed that Mathews had nothing to do with the plot against Schoenmakers. Perhaps more significant, he has given John Mathews full credit for stopping the assault on that Osage Mission Convent in September of 1861. If that event had escalated, the Osage Mission story could have ended then, and there — No St. Paul. Kansas!
It is also clear that Father Paul had a very low opinion of Mathews' assassin, John Burk. As I was transcribing his discussion of Burk I was thinking "Strong words from a Catholic Priest!"
Also, modern Osage writer and spokesman John Joseph Mathews (1894 - 1997) was John Allen's Grandson.
Mathews has received both poor and good grades with historians with regard to his relationship with Father John Schoenmakers. Many accounts place the blame for Father Schoenmakers' assassination plan and Father's subsequent nine-month exile on Mathews shoulders. Clearly, Father Ponziglione is on the other side of the fence. From his writing, here, he believed that Mathews had nothing to do with the plot against Schoenmakers. Perhaps more significant, he has given John Mathews full credit for stopping the assault on that Osage Mission Convent in September of 1861. If that event had escalated, the Osage Mission story could have ended then, and there — No St. Paul. Kansas!
It is also clear that Father Paul had a very low opinion of Mathews' assassin, John Burk. As I was transcribing his discussion of Burk I was thinking "Strong words from a Catholic Priest!"
Also, modern Osage writer and spokesman John Joseph Mathews (1894 - 1997) was John Allen's Grandson.
4 . Stand Watie. When Stand Watie visited the mission in 1861 he was a colonel in the Confederate Army. During his career he became the only Native American to attain the rank of General in either the Confederate or Union armies during the Civil War. He was also the last Confederate commander to cease field operations, surrendering in June of 1865. But his story goes back several years before the war. His family members have the tragic distinction of supporting the removal of the Cherokees to the present Cherokee Nation in Indian Territory, Oklahoma. That caused a rift in the nation that led to the assassination of some family members. Here are a couple of links about this remarkable Cherokee leader:
