[At the council] I had some brandy and tobacco distributed and gave the chief some presents. Whereupon he took the peace pipe and handed it to me as token of deepest friendship, at the same time delivering an address with much decorum. Naturally I could not understand its content, since the interpreter was not there. This unfortunate circumstance soon brought the meeting to a close. All the Indians arose and one after the other gave me his hand. I must say in honor of the Indians that I did not see one of them drunk, although the opportunity was not lacking, for the half-bloods and Creoles set them a bad example. All had indulged immoderately with whisky.
John C. McCoy, government surveyor (1830):
[There] was a stone building built by the government for White Plume, head chief of the Kanzans, in 1827 or 1828. . . . We passed by it in 1830 and found the gallant old chieftain sitting in state, rigged out in a profusion of feathers, paint, wampum, brass armlets, etc. at the door of a lodge he had erected a hundred yards or so to the northwest of his stone mansion, and in honor of our expected arrival the stars and stripes were gracefully floating in the breeze on a tall pole over him. He was large, fine-looking, and inclined to corpulency, and received my father with the grace and dignity of a real live potentate and graciously signified his willingness to accept any amount of bacon and other presents we might be disposed to tender him. In answer to an inquiry as to the reasons that induced him to abandon his princely mansion, his laconic explanation was simply, “Too much fleas.” A hasty examination I made of the house justified the wisdom of his removal. It was not only alive with fleas, but the floors, doors, and windows had disappeared, and even the casings had been pretty well used up for kindling-wood.
George Catlin, painter (1831):
The present chief of this tribe [Konzas] is known by the name of White Plume; a very urbane and hospitable man, of good portly size, speaking some English, and making himself good company for all white persons who travel through his country and have the good luck to shake his liberal and hospitable hand.
It has been to me a source of much regret that I did not get the portrait of this celebrated chief, but I have painted several others distinguished in this tribe, which are fair specimens of these people. Sho-me-cos-se (The Wolf), a chief of some distinction, with a bold and manly outline of head, exhibiting, like most of his tribe, an European outline of features, signally worthy the notice of the enquiring world.
The hair is cut as close to the head as possible, except a tuft the size of the palm of the hand, on the crown of the head, which is left of two inches in length; and in the center of which is fastened a beautiful crest made of the hair of the deer’s tail (dyed red) and horsehair, and oftentimes surmounted with the war-eagle’s quill. In the center of the patch of hair, which was left of a couple of inches in length, is preserved a small lock, which is never cut, but cultivated to the greatest length possible and uniformly kept in braid and passed through a piece of curiously carved bone, which lies in the center of the crest, and spreads it out to its uniform shape, which they study with great care to preserve. Through this little braid and outside the bone passes a small wooden or bone key which holds the crest to the head. This little braid is called in these tribes the scalp-lock and is scrupulously preserved in this way and offered to their enemy, if they can get it, as a trophy, which it seems in all tribes they are anxious to yield to their conquerors in case they are killed in battle and which it would be considered cowardly and disgraceful for a warrior to shave off, leaving nothing for his enemy to grasp for when he falls into his hands in the events of battle.
Amongst those tribes who thus shave and ornament their heads, the crest is uniformly blood-red, and the upper part of the head, and generally a considerable part of the face, as red as they can possibly make it with vermilion. I found these people cutting off the hair with small scissors, which they purchase of the fur traders, and they told me that previous to getting scissors, they cut it away with their knives, and, before they got knives, they were in the habit of burning it off with red-hot stones, which was a very slow and painful operation.
John Treat Irving, traveler (1833):
The [Konza] band before us were all finely formed men; for with the exception of the Osage Indians of the Arkansaw, they are considered the most noble of the tribes which yet roam within the neighborhood of the settlements. As yet from their communion with the whites they have derived benefit alone. Too far from them to imbibe their vices, they have yet been able to hold sufficient intercourse to promote their own interest. They have thrown aside their buffalo skin robes and adopted the blanket. They have become skillful in the use of the rifle, and, except in hunting the buffalo, make no use of bows and arrows.
The two bands seated themselves upon the long wooden benches on opposite sides of the room. There was a strong contrast between them. The Konzas had a proud, noble air, and their white blankets as they hung in loose and graceful folds around them, had the effect of classic drapery.
The Pawnees had no pride of dress. They were wrapped in shaggy robes, and sat in silence—wild and uncouth in their appearance, with scowling brows and close-pressed mouths.
John Kirk Townsend, touring physician and naturalist (1834):
In the evening the principal Kanzas chief paid us a visit in our tent. He is a young man about twenty-five years of age, straight as a poplar, and with a noble countenance and bearing, but he appeared to me to be marvellously deficient in most of the requisites which go to make the character of a real Indian chief, at least of such Indian chiefs as we read of in our popular books. I begin to suspect, in truth, that these lofty and dignified attributes are more apt to exist in the fertile brain of the novelist than in reality. Be this as it may, our chief is a very lively, laughing, and rather playful personage; perhaps he may put on his dignity, like a glove, when it suits his convenience.
Frederick Chouteau, Kaw trader (c. 1835):
Wa-ho-ba-ke was a noted brave [Once,] when the Kaws were out on hunt, Wa-ho-ba-ke was surprised when alone bathing in a creek, and shot through the body by two Pawnees, two bullets passing through his body the same instant, large thirty-two to-the-pound bullets. He fell and floated downstream. The two Pawnees sprang in and clubbed him. A blow on his head reanimated him so that he sprang to his feet in the shallow water, startling his two enemies, and causing them to flee. He then mounted his horse, which the Pawnees had left in their panic, and rode to the camp; reaching it, he fell to the ground exhausted. Having been brought back to the Fool Chief’s village, he lay a long time nearly dead in his lodge. Finally he was about to die, as he supposed, and it came into his mind that before he died he must have one more ride on his best hunting horse. He called for his horse to be brought to his lodge. The Indians placed him in his saddle. He was so weak and emaciated that he could not sit upon the pony by his own strength. The Indians tied him on, strapping his legs under the horse’s belly. He then started off, the pony running carelessly over the prairie. The agitation and shaking up, in this race, caused the bursting and discharge of an abscess, which had been formed in connection with his wounds. Returning to his wigwam, he immediately began to recover, and finally restored to health. This circumstance, together with his many acts of bravery, gave him great prominence in his tribe. [He died at Council Grove, of the smallpox, about 1850.]
The oldest girl is always first married. Her husband marries the younger girls successively as they become old enough, he being entitled to the privilege of marrying all the daughters for the family, a privilege which is almost universally taken advantage of. If, however, a young man declines to marry all the daughters, a second son-in-law may be taken into the family. I have seen some men have six or seven wives—sisters. They never have wives that are not sisters. If there be but one daughter, her husband has but one wife.
Victor Tixier, French traveler (1839):
The Kansa girls, much prettier than the Osage ones, looked at us without showing any shyness; their glances were even encouraging. . . . Th
e beauty of the Kansa girls made Baptiste [the half-blood Osage guide] worry a great deal; he had a daughter who was, in his opinion, one of the prettiest women who had ever lived on the prairie. He gave her rich ornaments and made her ride his most beautiful horse, harnessed with all the luxury the savages are so fond of. He even had his daughter’s name proclaimed several times. When one wants to bring a brave or girl to the attention of the public, he gives horses, arms, or red blankets to young warriors, who run about the village crying out the name of the one who has been so generous. . . . Baptiste, vain half-breed that he was, had given ten horses to have the name of his daughter, the Prairie Rose, cried out. Baptiste made it clear to us on several occasions that he did not want her to marry a savage; it is true that he refused her hand to an Osage who offered fifty horses for her. This worthy father doubtless hoped that he might make us decide to imitate the example of young Europeans who, while traveling in this country, forgot their countries and their families to become savages and to live with the young beauties whom they loved. He let us understand that our asking would be favorably received. However, the beauty of Mile. Baptiste was thrown into the shade by that of the Kansa girls, so the father was very critical about the latter and always mentioned, by comparison, the wealth, the large lodge, and the intelligence of his daughter. The poor man was going through useless trouble, for none of us was tempted to marry in the manner of the savages, although it is a bond which one can break easily. Besides, the morals of the girls were not very strict. The Kansa girls came to bathe near us; they splashed us; threw sand at us.
Nicolas Point, traveler and Jesuit missionary (1840):
It would be difficult to give an account of all the singular things we saw during the half hour we passed in the midst of these strange figures. A Flemish painter would have found a treasure there in the Kansa lodge]. What struck me most were the strong character written on the faces of some of those about me, the artlessness, the attitudes, the facility of gesture, the vivacity of expression, the singularity of their dress and, most of all, the great variety of occupations. Only the women were working and, in order not to be distracted from their tasks, those who had children still unable to walk had placed them, strapped to a kind of board, large enough to prevent injury to their limbs, either in a corner or at their feet.
Some of the men were preparing to eat, which was their principal occupation when they were not fighting or hunting. Others were smoking, sleeping, talking, laughing, or were occupied with plucking the hair from their faces, including eyelashes and eyebrows. Still others were attending to their hair, an occupation they seemed to find most pleasing.
Soon I became aware that I, myself, was becoming the object of attention, almost the occasion for hilarity on the part of the Indian children. For some days I had given no attention to the matter of shaving. In their estimation, the acme of [male] beauty was the complete absence of hair from the chin, the eyelashes, the eyebrows, and the head. This was only a minor part of their grooming, but the trouble they took to achieve the ultimate perfection in this detail of appearance is only a small indication of their vanity.
If you wish a picture of the supremely self-satisfied Kansa in all his glory, you must imagine an Indian with vermilion circles about his eyes; blue, black, or red streaks on his face, pendants of crockery, glass, or mother-of-pearl hanging from his ears; about his neck a fancy necklace, making a large semi-circle on his breast, with a large medal of silver or copper in the middle of it. On his arms and wrists he would have many bracelets of brass, iron, or tin. About his middle would be a girdle, a belt of garish colors from which hung a tobacco pouch decorated with beads, and cutlass scabbard striped in various colors. And on top of all this would be a blue, white, green or red blanket, draped in folds about the body according to the caprice or need of the wearer. This, then, would be the finery one would see on the most envied of the Kansa tribe.
The Kansa were quite tall and very well shaped. Their physiognomy . . . was quite virile. Their abrupt, guttural language was remarkable for its long and sharp accentuation of inflection. But this did not prevent their singing from being most monotonous. To their strength, shrewdness, and courage, they added good common sense, something lacking in most Indians. . . . Among their chiefs were some men of true distinction. The best-known of them . . . was White Feather [White Plume].
Pierre-Jean De Smet, traveler and Jesuit missionary (1840):
It is not to be inferred . . . that the Kansas, like all the Indian tribes, never speak on the subject [of religion] without becoming solemnity. The more they are observed the more evident does it become that the religious sentiment is deeply implanted in their souls, and is, of all others, that which is most frequently expressed by their words and actions. Thus, for instance, they never take the calumet without first rendering some homage to the Great Spirit. In the midst of their most infuriate passions they address him certain prayers, and even in assassinating a defenceless child or woman, they invoke the Master of life. To be enabled to take many a scalp from their enemies, or to rob them of many horses, becomes the object of their most fervid prayers, to which they sometimes add fasts, macerations, and sacrifices. What did they not do last spring to render the heavens propitious? And for what? To obtain the power, in the absence of their warriors, to massacre all the women and children of the Pawnees! And in effect they carried off the scalps of ninety victims, and made prisoners of all whom they did not think proper to kill. In their eyes, revenge, far from being a horrible vice, is the first of virtues, the distinctive mark of great souls, and a complete vindication of the most atrocious cruelty. It would be time lost to attempt to persuade them that there can be neither merit nor glory in the murder of a disarmed and helpless foe. There is but one exception to this barbarous code: it is when an enemy voluntarily seeks a refuge in one of their villages. As long as he remains in it, his asylum is inviolable—his life is more safe than it would be in his own wigwam. But woe to him if he attempt to fly—scarcely has he taken a single step, before he restores to his hosts all the imaginary rights which the spirit of vengeance had given them to his life!
However cruel they may be to their foes, the Kansas are no strangers to the tenderest sentiments of piety, friendship, and compassion. They are often inconsolable for the death of their relations, and leave nothing undone to give proof of their sorrow. Then only do [the men] suffer their hair to grow—long hair being a sign of long mourning. The principal chief apologized for the length of his hair, informing us of what we could have divined from the sadness of his countenance, that he had lost his son.
Rufus Sage, journalist-traveler (1841):
A bevy of our [Caw] chief’s villagers, rigged in their rude fashion, came flocking up, apparently to gratify their curiosity in gazing at us, but really in expectation of some trifling presents, or in quest of a favorable opportunity for indulging their innate propensities for theft. However, they found little encouragement, as the vigilance of our guards more than equalled the cunning of our visitors. During their stay we were frequently solicited for donations of tobacco and ammunition in payment for passing through their country. This was individually demanded with all the assurance of government revenue officers, or the keepers of regular toll-bridges.
The Caws are generally a lazy and slovenly people, raising but little corn and scarcely any vegetables. For a living they depend mostly upon the chase. Their regular hunts are in the summer, fall, and winter, at which time they all leave for the buffalo range, and return laden with a full supply of choice provisions. The robes and skins thus obtained furnish their clothing and articles for traffic. As yet, civilization has made but small advances among them. Some, however, are tolerably well educated, and a Protestant mission established with them is beginning its slow but successful operations for their good, while two or three families of half-breeds nearby occupy neat houses and have splendid farms and improvements, thus affording a wholesome contrast to the poverty and misery of their rude neighbors.
/> Richard W. Cummins, Kaw agent (1845):
The Kansas are very poor and ignorant. I consider them the most hospitable Indians that I have any knowledge of. They never turn off hungry white or red, if they have anything to give them, and they will continue to give as long as they have anything to give.
James Josiah Webb, Santa Fe Trail trader (1847):
Two little boys from the Kaw village came into camp, and after gratifying their curiosity and eating of the best we were able to offer them, they commenced playing around camp and through the timber.
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