While we know our northern friends may not feel it, in the South, Spring is
here. So we thought we'd share a few of our gardening sites appropriate
for this time of the year. Along with gardening, there's grilling, and getting
ready to diet so that you can fit back into that bathing suit this summer!
Condition Op The Tribe Previous To The Outbreak. A Warlike
Tribe. Civilization Commenced. Churches And Schools. Causes Of The Outbreak.
Injustice Of Our Government. Beginning Of The Massacre. Inhabitants Calling For
Help. - Little Crow. Attack On The Lower Agency. Escape Of Rev. Mr. Hindman. A
Noble Ferryman. Cut Nose. Twenty-Five Massacred. Heart-Rending Sight. Flight And
Death Of Dr. Humphreys. Whole Family Burned. Destruction Of Capt.
The massacre of the whites in Minnesota
by the Sioux Indians, in August, 1862, is
one of the bloodiest that has ever occurred
in the history of the Indian races in North
America. In the earlier periods of the
country, the frontier settlements were
constantly exposed to. Indian depredations,
and their destruction at any time seemed
probable from their comparative feebleness
and remoteness from succor; but that the
savage tribes should rise against the whites
almost within sight of our populous cities,
our railroads and steamboats, was not
dreamed of by any one.
The Sioux massacre, had it occurred in a
time of peace, would have moved the nation
more profoundly than any event in our
history, but coming as it did in the midst
of one of the most fearful civil wars the
world has ever seen, it lost half its
horrors. When our fathers, brothers and sons
were falling by the tens of thousands in our
very midst, the slaughter of a few hundred
settlers on our frontier seemed
comparatively a small evil.
The Sioux, or Dacotah Indians, as they have
been known from time immemorial, have always
been a warlike tribe, but as civilization
advanced and encroached upon them, their
savage character gradually changed, and for
years they had lived at peace with their
white neighbors. They had step by step
receded before the tide of emigration,
selling their lands to the government, until
by the last treaties, especially the one
ratified in 1860, they yielded all their
possessions in Iowa, Dakota and Minnesota,
except a tract a hundred and fifty miles
long, on the Minnesota river. In accordance
with these treaties, a large amount of money
and goods was annually delivered to them,
and an agent of the government resided among
them to superintend the transaction of all
public business. For the sake of convenience
two stations were established for this
purpose, one fourteen miles above Fort
Ridgely, on the Minnesota river, called the
"Lower," or "Redwood Agency," and the other
at the mouth of the Yellow Medicine River,
known as the "Upper," or "Yellow Medicine
Agency." A part of the nation, perhaps a
hundred families, had adopted civilized
customs, lived in frame-houses, dressed in
coats and pantaloons, attended churches and
schools, had plows, harrows, and all the
agricultural implements, and seemed fast
merging into civilization. The other
portion, however, lived in huts on the
prairie, and retained their savage customs
and habits.
A few miles above the Yellow Medicine were
churches and schools in charge of Rev. S. R.
Riggs and Dr. William son, who for a long
time had been missionaries among them. At
Lac qui Parle was another school under the
care of Rev. Mr. Huggins, while trading
posts were established at various points.
Besides the whites and Indians, a numerous
race of half-breeds had sprung up. A good
road ran through the reservation, with
eighteen well-constructed bridges. Some
three thousand acres of this fertile region
had been fenced and planted, while saw and
corn-mills and brickyards were established
at the agencies.
But although matters seemed in this
thriving, prosperous condition, there had
been at various times, indications of an
outbreak. The large annuities paid them by
the government furnished tempting bait to
unscrupulous traders and adventurers, who
managed from time to time to make large
fortunes at the expense of the Indian. On
two different occasions $2,900 that had been
placed on a table in payment to some of the
chiefs, was picked up by a half-breed and
given to a white man, and that was the last
ever seen of it. Receipts were obtained on
the promise of furnishing horses, guns, &c.
which were never paid. Once a man by the
name of Hugh Tyler, took $55,000 as pay due
him, as he alleged, for getting a treaty
through the Senate. The $166,000 which the
Indians were to receive for ceding their
lands north of the Minnesota, they never saw
or received a penny of for four years, or
until the very year of the massacre, and
then but $1,500 worth of goods were sent,
and even this was deducted from the money
due them under a former treaty. The Indians,
indignant at the fraud, refused for a long
time to receive them, and finally did so
only after the government had agreed to make
it right with them.
Things had gone on in this way until at the
outbreak the annuities amounted to scarcely
fifteen dollars a piece of the 6,200 that
composed the tribe. This was not sufficient
to keep them from starvation, and the winter
previous to the massacre numbers actually
died from want, and many others only lived
by eating their horses and dogs. Other and
slighter causes, but such as an Indian
keenly feels, incensed them against the
whites, and nothing but their powerlessness
kept them from violence long before. The
outbreak of civil war among us naturally
excited in their hearts the belief that
their day of revenge was at hand. Said a
famous Cherokee chief, many years ago, when
speaking of the wrongs done his nation, "One
of these days you will be at war among
yourselves, and then when you are weakened,
we will come down on you like the mountain
wolf on the fold, and tear you in pieces."
Such thoughts stirred the hearts of the
Sioux braves. Besides, they did not escape
the war excitement that filled the land.
Recruiting stations were in their midst, and
companies of half-breeds were organized for
the army. This also showed to them the
desperate straits of the government for men,
and its weakness. Added to all, the wildest
rumors spread among them of the sacking of
our cities by the south, the capture of
Washington, and even the President. All
these things tended to kindle the sullen
desire for revenge which for a long time had
smoldered in their breasts, into a belief
that their time for action had come.
About the first of July the young men of the
nation formed a secret association, called
the "Soldier's Lodge," the object of which
was to control matters when any thing of
great importance to the nation occurred. Yet
all this did not alarm the whites, and the
traders who had come to despise the Indians,
would tell them as Foulon did the mob of
Paris when they said they were starving, to
"Eat Hay." The very night before the
outbreak, a large council was held only
fifteen miles from the lower agency, in
which it was determined to go the next day
to the Agency and demand the money due them,
thence to Fort Ridgely, if refused, to St.
Paul; and if necessary, to resort to
violence to secure their rights. It will
thus be seen that the whole nation was
resting on the bosom of a volcano, which at
any moment might burst forth in a deluge of
fire.
Yet strange as it may seem, the whites
reposed in perfect security; the wholesome
fear, which kept the early settlers on the
alert, had been laid to rest so long that it
seemed impossible to rouse it. So complete
was this delusion that the government agent,
Mr. Galbraith, who visited the entire
reservation just before the outbreak, spoke
on his return with great satisfaction of the
prosperous condition of affairs in the
tribe.
Still, notwithstanding this apparent
preparation of a sudden uprising, the time
and manner of its occurrence seemed purely
accidental.
On the first of August a party of twenty
Indians went to the "Big Woods," an
extensive forest about eighty miles above
the falls of St. Anthony, to hunt and get a
wagon which a chief had left the previous
winter with Captain Whitcomb. They separated
on the way, some of them going towards
Acton. These got into a quarrel a few days
after, accusing each other of cowardice for
being afraid of the whites. They finally
separated, the larger number saying to four
who went off by themselves, "You will see
whether we are brave or not, for we are
going to kill a white man." Soon after, the
four heard the others firing, and supposing
they were shooting down whites, said they
must kill some too, to show that they were
equally brave. While they were debating the
project, they came to Acton. Here they got
into an altercation with three men named
Jones, Baker and Webster. At length one of
the Indians proposed they should go out and
shoot at a mark, for the purpose of getting
the guns of the whites discharged. They did
so, when the Indians, after firing,
carefully reloaded their guns, and
consulting a moment together, appeared about
to go away, when they suddenly turned and
fired, shooting down Jones and his wife, and
Baker and Webster. They then broke open
Jones house, shot a young lady in it named
Miss Wilson, and departed. Mrs. Webster, who
was in a covered wagon, near by, and Mrs.
Baker, who in her fright fell down cellar
and was not noticed, escaped. This was the
beginning of the massacre. The two women
crawled forth to find their families
weltering in blood. Hastening to the house
of a Norwegian a few miles distant, they
told their horrible story, and no man being
at home, a boy was dispatched to Ripley, a
distance of twelve miles, where a meeting
was being held to raise a company of
volunteers for the war. Seventy-five men
were speedily assembled at the spot, and
hearing that the other Indians were still in
the neighbor hood, threatening violence,
sent immediately to St. Paul, to the
governor, for help.
The four Indians who had begun the massacre,
hastened to the house of a Mr. Eckland, and
stealing two horses, mounted them, two on
each horse, and rode at a break neck pace to
Shakopee s village, into which they broke
before daylight with a savage shout. The
aroused natives were thrown into a state of
the wildest excitement at the story they
told. One thing they knew at once; these
murderers must be given up, or the tribe
held responsible; and the question arose
what should be done, surrender them or
fight, for there was no alternative. An
excited, angry discussion arose in the
council that was immediately called, but the
relatives of the men declared they should
not be given up. It was finally agreed, that
as it had been decided in council the night
previous, to go to Fort Ridgeley, and if
necessary to St. Paul, and demand their
annuity, they would start before daylight,
and taking "Little Crow" in their way,
consult with him respecting their future
action. This was one of the most eloquent
and crafty chieftains of the tribe. He had
been to Washington, had become civilized,
dressing like a white man, and living in a
brick house, and regarded himself as a
respectable citizen.
This wild delegation, mounted on horseback,
started before daylight, and passing down
the river, roused the Indian settlers on the
way with their shouts and war cries. It
needed but a spark to fire the tinder, and
all along the way, other Indians jumped on
their horses, and joined the wild cavalcade,
that kept increasing as it advanced, till a
hundred and fifty shouting, yelling madmen
streamed along the road. They reached Crow s
house before he was up, and the astonished
chieftain, roused by the war cries that had
so often stirred him in his youth, sat up in
his bed. The next moment his room was filled
with Indians, and wrapping himself in his
blanket he asked the meaning of this strange
gathering. Their story was soon told. They
had now reached a pitch of excitement where
counsel was useless. They did not want
advice; they demanded that Crow should be
their leader in a war against the whites. He
saw at once that he must, or part forever
with his tribe. Still, knowing the hazards
he runs, the struggle within him for a few
minutes was terrible. But his mind was soon
made up, arid exclaiming, "I am with you,"
leaped from his bed. Sending off swift
couriers to other bands, he mounted his
horse and led on the throng. It was agreed
to fall on the Agency at once. But to make
the blow sudden and overwhelming, they
decided to enter the village quietly and in
squads, as though nothing unusual was on
foot, and stationing themselves at different
points, wait a given signal, which was to be
the discharge of a single gun from near the
flag-staff, and then dash in and commence
their work of blood. When all was ready the
signal gun was fired, and in an instant the
air was filled with war whoops, and the
street with painted demons. The startled
inhabitants ran to the doors of their houses
and shops and stores, only to be shot down.
The love of plunder soon drew them away from
the work of slaughter, and many of the
citizens succeeded in escaping. Among these
was the Rev. Mr. Hindman, who lived in the
lower part of the, town. He thus relates
what he saw on this morning which ushered in
the work of blood. "I arose early, expecting
to go to Fairbault, had just finished
breakfast, and was sitting outside, smoking
a pipe, and talking with a mason about a job
which he had just finished upon the new
church which I was building. Presently I saw
a number of Indians passing down, nearly
naked, and armed with guns. The mason
exclaimed, I guess they are going to have a
dance.' No, said Dr. Humphrey's son, who was
standing near us, they have guns and are not
going to dance. Then I noticed, that instead
of going by, they commenced sitting down on
the steps of various buildings. About this
time I heard the guns in the upper town. A
man by the name of Whipple said, he guessed
the Chippeways had come over, and they were
having a battle. He then crossed the road to
his boarding house. I soon noticed that the
people at the boarding house, (who could see
the upper stores,) were running down the
bluff. Then four Indians came down the
street. One of them left the others and went
into the Indian farmer Prescott s house, and
came immediately out. Frank Robertson, a
young clerk in the employ of the government,
followed him out, looking very pale. I asked
him what was the matter. He said he did not
know, but that the Indian told them all to
stay in the house. He told me he thought
there was going to be trouble, and started
for Beaver Creek, a few miles above, where
his mother lived.
"Soon White Dog, formerly president of the
Farmer Indians, ran past, very much
frightened. I asked him what the matter was,
and he said there was awful work, and that
he was going to see Waboshaw about it. Then
Crow, with another Indian, went by the gate,
and I asked Crow what was the matter. He was
usually very polite, but now he made no
answer, and regarding me with a savage look,
went on towards the stable, the next
building below.
"Just before, Wagner ran by, and I asked him
also what the trouble was. He said the
Indians were going to the stables to steal
horses, and that he was going there to stop
them. I told him he had better not, as I was
afraid there was trouble. He paid no
attention to what I said. The next I saw was
the Indians leading away the horses, and
Wagner, and John Lamb and another person
trying to prevent them. By this time Crow
had reached there, and I heard him say to
the Indians, "What are you doing? Why don t
you shoot these men? What are you waiting
for? Immediately the Indians fired, wounding
Wagner, who escaped across the river to die,
and killing Lamb and the other man.
"Then I found Miss West, and we started for
the ferry. After we got about half way, she
ran into a house, and I lost sight of her.
"Just as I got to Dickerson's house, I came
across a German who was wounded. I managed
to get him down the hill and put him into a
skiff, and we passed safely over and arrived
at Fort Ridgeley about three o'clock. The
people were crossing the ferry rapidly, and
flying in every direction."
The ferryman, Manley, a Frenchman, of low
origin and among the most common and
illiterate of the settlers, now showed
himself to possess the elements of a true
hero. Instead of flying with the rest, as he
might have done and saved his life, he
stayed manfully at his post, and unmoved
amid the terror and panic around him, calmly
passed backward and forward, carrying the
fugitives over as fast as he could. This
humble man, whom no one cared for, suddenly
seemed to care for every body but himself.
He arose to that loftiest point of
self-sacrifice ever reached by man, to give
his life for others. The firing steadily
drew nearer, and the shots began to fall
around him, yet as long as a fugitive stood
on the shore, pleading for help, he kept
returning until no more was to be saved.
When the last man was over, and only
infuriated Indians darkened the bank, a shot
struck him, and he fell a true hero, though
no poet ever sings his fame. The Indians,
enraged that he had snatched so many from
their grasp, swam across, and tearing out
his bowels, cut off his head, hands and
feet, and crammed them into the body and
thus left him.
A few miles from the Agency several settlers
with their families had gathered together
previous to taking their flight. The Indians
coming suddenly upon them poured a volley
into their midst, which killed most of the
men. The frightened women and children
immediately huddled together in the wagons,
and bending down drew their shawls and
blankets over their heads to shut out the
terrible doom that awaited them. "Cut Nose"
then came up, and while two Indians sprang
to the horses heads to prevent them from
starting off, drove his tomahawk
deliberately into the head of each. A
smothered skriek from the survivors,
followed each dull, crushing blow of the
weapon, as they, powerless with terror,
awaited their turn. Taking an infant from
its mother s arms, Cut Nose handed it to the
Indians, who drawing a bolt from the wagon,
drove it through the body and pinned it to
the fence. There, before the mother s eyes,
they left it to writhe and die in agony. For
a little while they stood and gloated over
the mother s speechless misery at the awful
spectacle, and then chopped off her arms and
legs and left her to bleed to death.
Twenty-five were thus massacred. When all
had been disposed of, the savages kicked the
mutilated bodies out of the wagons, and
filling them with plunder, sent them back to
be added to the other spoils, and then
pushed on to other deeds of blood. Coming up
to a farmer s house in which were a husband
and wife and two children, the father fired
at them from the window. Before he could
reload, they broke in with a yell. Finding
no one within, the family having escaped by
a back way, they pursued after and butchered
the father, mother and son. The daughter,
left alone, threw herself on the ground,
pretending to be dead. The savages, after
hacking the dead bodies, seized her by the
feet to drag her off, when she instinctively
moved to adjust her clothes. She was saved
for a worse fate.
Dr. Humphreys, the physician, with three
little children, the oldest only twelve
years old, got off, and when two miles
distant stopped at a house to rest. Being
exhausted and thirsty, he sent h-s little
boy a short distance for some water. While
he was gone the Indians came up, and
shooting his father, set fire to the house,
and burned his mother and little brother
alive. Frightened half to death he hid in
some bushes. When the Indians left, he crept
forth and found his father lying on the
ground with his throat cut. Stupefied with
fear he crawled back to his hiding place,
where he remained till he was picked up in
the afternoon by a band of soldiers sent
from St. Peters. The Indians, having killed,
captured or driven away all the whites, and
filled the street with plunder, applied the
torch to the buildings, and soon the summer
sky was red with the conflagration. Couriers
in the mean time had been dispatched to
other bands, bearing the war cry.
Having finished the work of destruction at
the Agency, the savages streamed down the
river, slaughtering and burning as they
went. As the fearful tidings spread, the
terrified inhabitants fled from their homes,
carrying away what household stuff they
could collect, but in most cases they were
met or overtaken and shot down. The pleading
cries of women and children were unheeded,
even when made to those whom they knew and
had often befriended. Frenzied by their own
deeds, and with all the long- slumbering
fires of their savage nature fully aroused,
they committed every act of atrocity that a
devilish ingenuity could suggest. A farmer
and his two sons were engaged in stacking
wheat. Twelve Indians approached unseen to
the fence, and from behind it shot all
three. They then entered the farmer s house
and killed two of the young children in the
presence of their mother, who was ill with
consumption, and dragged the mother and
daughter miles away to their camp. There, in
the presence of the dying mother, they
stripped off the daughter's clothes,
fastened her back to the ground, and one by
one violated her person, till death came to
her relief. One Indian went into a house
where a woman was making bread. Her small
child was in the cradle. He split the
mother's head open with a tomahawk, and then
placed the babe in the hot oven, where he
kept it until nearly dead, when he took it
out and beat out its brains against the
wall.
Children were nailed living to tables and
doors, and knives and tomahawks thrown at
them till they were killed. The womb of the
pregnant mother was ripped open, the
palpitating infant torn forth, cut into bits
and thrown into the face of the mother.
Whole families were burned alive in their
homes. Such and similar deeds of horrid
barbarity are recorded by Mr. Heard, who has
published a book on the massacre, and by the
newspapers of the times, all of which were
verified. By noon the news reached Fort
Ridgely, and Captain Marsh, of the Minnesota
Volunteers, immediately started with
forty-eight men in wagons, for the scene of
destruction. On the way he met terrified
fugitives, who told him to turn back, for
the Indians outnumbered him three to one,
and he was sure to be killed. He however
kept resolutely on, and reached the ferry
opposite the Agency, at sundown. The Indians
came down to the opposite side of the river,
and a parley was held through an
interpreter. Marsh said he wished to come
across and investigate matters. They
declared he should not. The banks of the
river were lined with bushes, and while the
discussion was going on a large number of
Indians secretly crossed and surrounded him,
in concealed positions. Marsh, at first, was
determined to cross at all hazards, but at
length, at the earnest solicitations of
friends, who declared it was certain death
to make the attempt, he desisted. But the
order to his men to wheel had hardly escaped
his lips, when a sudden yell rose all around
him, and the next moment a tremendous volley
at close range, was poured into his little
band. Nearly twenty fell at the first fire.
With the survivors he stood his ground and
returned the fire. But resistance was vain;
his men dropped like leaves beside him, and
seeing it was hopeless to continue the
fight, he gathered nine men around him and
fought his way out of the circle of fire.
But after going two miles down the river, he
found his way to the fort cut off, and
seeing a spot where he thought the river
could be forded, he ordered his men to
plunge in, himself leading the way, with his
sword and revolver lifted above his head.
But he soon got beyond his depth, and sunk
to rise no more. His nine followers reached
the fort in safety, with the sad tidings of
their loss.
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Indian Races of North and South America, By Charles De Wolf Brownell, 1865
