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Nez Percé chief, Hin-mah-too-yah-lat-kekt, or Thunder Rolling Down the Mountain, was widely known by his Christian name, “Chief Joseph.” Born in 1840, in what is now northeastern Oregon, Chief Joseph inherited his father’s conflict with the white settlers. In 1855, the territorial governor of Washington set up a Nez Percé reservation that stretched from Oregon to Idaho. In 1863, following the discovery of gold in Nez Percé territory, the United States government took back six million acres of that land and attempted to force the tribe to move to a much smaller reservation in Idaho.
By 1877, the tribe’s refusal to leave their land prompted federal forces to threaten an attack. Chief Joseph reluctantly agreed to lead his people toward Idaho for their safety, but some young warriors from his tribe raided a nearby settlement and killed several whites. During the course of the tribe’s 1,400-mile retreat, 800 Nez Percé warriors valiantly defended their tribe against 2,000 U.S. soldiers in four major battles and numerous skirmishes. U.S. General William Tecumsah Sherman expressed admiration for the tribe’s battle strategy, saying they “fought with almost scientific skill, using advance and rear guards, skirmish lines, and field fortifications.” By the time he formally surrendered to the United States government on October 5, 1877, the American press widely referred to Chief Joseph as “the Red Napoleon.”
Although Chief Joseph surrendered with the understanding that he would be allowed to return home, the Nez Percé were instead taken to present-day Oklahoma, where many died of epidemic diseases. In 1879, Chief Joseph visited Washington, D.C., to plead his tribe’s case to U.S. President Rutherford B. Hayes, but it was not until 1885 that Joseph and the other refugees were allowed to return to the Pacific Northwest. Even then, half were taken to a reservation in northern Washington and separated from the rest of their people. Before his death in 1904, Chief Joseph spoke out against the injustice of United States policy toward Native Americans and proffered the hope that America's promise of freedom and equality might one day apply to all.
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Surrender in the Bear Paw Mountains, 1877
I am tired of fighting. Our chiefs are killed. Looking Glass is dead. Toohoolhoolzote is dead. The old men are all dead. It is the young men who say, "Yes" or "No." He who led the young men [Olikut] is dead. It is cold, and we have no blankets. The little children are freezing to death. My people, some of them, have run away to the hills, and have no blankets, no food. No one knows where they are -- perhaps freezing to death. I want to have time to look for my children, and see how many of them I can find. Maybe I shall find them among the dead. Hear me, my chiefs! I am tired. My heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands I will fight no more forever.
On a visit to Washington, D.C., 1879
At last I was granted permission to come to Washington and bring my friend Yellow Bull and our interpreter with me. I am glad I came. I have shaken hands with a good many friends, but there are some things I want to know which no one seems able to explain. I cannot understand how the Government sends a man out to fight us, as it did [with] General Miles, and then breaks his word. Such a government has something wrong about it. I cannot understand why so many chiefs are allowed to talk so many different ways, and promise so many different things. I have seen the Great Father Chief [President Hayes]; the Next Great Chief [Secretary of the Interior]; the Commissioner Chief; the Law Chief; and many other law chiefs [Congressmen] and they all say they are my friends, and that I shall have justice, but while all their mouths talk right I do not understand why nothing is done for my people. I have heard talk and talk but nothing is done. Good words do not last long unless they amount to something. Words do not pay for my dead people. They do not pay for my country now overrun by white men. They do not protect my father's grave. They do not pay for my horses and cattle. Good words do not give me back my children. Good words will not make good the promise of your war chief, General Miles. Good words will not give my people a home where they can live in peace and take care of themselves. I am tired of talk that comes to nothing. It makes my heart sick when I remember all the good words and all the broken promises. There has been too much talking by men who had no right to talk. Too many misinterpretations have been made; too many misunderstandings have come up between the white men and the Indians. If the white man wants to live in peace with the Indian he can live in peace. There need be no trouble. Treat all men alike. Give them the same laws. Give them all an even chance to live and grow. All men were made by the same Great Spirit Chief. They are all brothers. The earth is the mother of all people, and all people should have equal rights upon it. You might as well expect all rivers to run backward as that any man who was born a free man should be contented penned up and denied liberty to go where he pleases. If you tie a horse to a stake, do you expect he will grow fat? If you pen an Indian up on a small spot of earth and compel him to stay there, he will not be contented nor will he grow and prosper. I have asked some of the Great White Chiefs where they get their authority to say to the Indian that he shall stay in one place, while he sees white men going where they please. They cannot tell me.
I only ask of the Government to be treated as all other men are treated. If I cannot go to my own home, let me have a home in a country where my people will not die so fast. I would like to go to Bitter Root Valley. There my people would be happy; where they are now they are dying. Three have died since I left my camp to come to Washington.
When I think of our condition, my heart is heavy. I see men of my own race treated as outlaws and driven from country to country, or shot down like animals.
I know that my race must change. We cannot hold our own with the white men as we are. We only ask an even chance to live as other men live. We ask to be recognized as men. We ask that the same law shall work alike on all men. If an Indian breaks the law, punish him by the law. If a white man breaks the law, punish him also.
Let me be a free man, free to travel, free to stop, free to work, free to trade where I choose, free to choose my own teachers, free to follow the religion of my fathers, free to talk, think and act for myself -- and I will obey every law or submit to the penalty.
Whenever the white man treats the Indian as they treat each other then we shall have no more wars. We shall be all alike -- brothers of one father and mother, with one sky above us and one country around us and one government for all. Then the Great Spirit Chief who rules above will smile upon this land and send rain to wash out the bloody spots made by brothers' hands upon the face of the earth. For this time the Indian race is waiting and praying. I hope no more groans of wounded men and women will ever go to the ear of the Great Spirit Chief above, and that all people may be one people.
Hin-mah-too-yah-lat-kekht has spoken for his people.