Assignment to the Department of the Missouri--A Cordial Reception
from Former Opponents in St. Louis--Origin of the Military School
at Fort Riley--Funeral of General George H. Thomas--Death of General
George G. Meade--Assigned to the Division of the Pacific--A Visit
to Hawaii--Military Men in the Exercise of Political Power--Trouble
with the Modoc Indians--The Canby Massacre.
When I went into the War Office in 1868, the cordial greeting
extended from all quarters was exceedingly gratifying to me, and,
I thought, highly honorable to those gentlemen, especially in the
Senate, who had so long opposed me, only one of whom, I believe,
failed to call at the office and express a kindly welcome; and that
one was so great a man, in his own estimation, I flattered myself
that was the only reason he had not called to greet me. So when
I returned to St. Louis in March, 1869, the good citizens of that
place gave me a banquet and a most cordial welcome, in which all
participated, save one, of those who had seemed to be my most bitter
enemies in 1862 and 1863. It was especially noteworthy that the
Hon. Charles D. Drake, who had been chairman of the large delegation
which went to Washington, and one of the recognized leaders in the
movement, to obtain my removal from the command in Missouri, was
among the most cordial in his expressions of esteem and regard from
March, 1869, up to the time of his death, at which time I was in
command of the army. But his principal associate, the Hon. Henry
T. Blow, could not forgive me, for what thing especially I do not
know, unless for my offense in arresting a "loyal" editor, for
which he denounced me in a telegram to the President. That was,
no doubt, a very grave offense, but a natural one for a young
soldier. Indeed, old as I am now, and much sad experience as I
have had with the press, I would probably do the same thing again.
That "loyal" editor, professing the greatest zeal for the Union
cause and devotion to the National Government, had published, in
a city under martial law, a confidential letter from the President,
the commander-in-chief of the army, to the commanding general of
that department. The ever kind and indulgent President was only
too willing to overlook such an offense on the part of one who
professed to be a friend of the Union. But a soldier could not
overlook such an outrage as that upon his commander-in-chief, and
upon the cause he was sworn to defend. Though his respect for a
free press be profound, there are some kinds of freedom which must,
in time of war, be crushed, even though the soldier himself may
also be crushed. A soldier who is not ready to meet his fate in
that way, as well as in battle, is not fit to command.
ASSIGNMENT TO THE DEPARTMENT OF THE MISSOURI
In President Grant's order of March, 1869, assigning the general
officers to commands, the Department of the Missouri again fell to
my lot. I relieved Lieutenant-General Sheridan, who took command
of the Division of the Missouri, and removed his headquarters from
St. Louis to Chicago, which then became for the first time the
principal military center of all the Western country. These
arrangements were intended to be as nearly permanent as practicable,
so that all might have a period of comparative rest after the eight
years of war and strife. I then reverted, for the first time in
those eight years, to the thoughts and ambitions of my youth and
young manhood, for I had grown much older in that time. First was
the ambition, inherited from my grandfather McAllister, to acquire
a farm big enough to keep all the neighbors at a respectful distance.
In company with my brother and another officer, I bought in Colorado
a ranch about ten miles square, and projected some farming and
stock-raising on a large scale. My dream was to prepare a place
where I could, ere long, retire from public life and pass the
remainder of my days in peace and in the enjoyment of all those
out-of-door sports which were always so congenial to me. But events
"over which I had no control" soon defeated that scheme. That,
like all the other plans of my own invention, came to naught. The
ranch was sold, and I got out of it, as I always tried to do, about
as much as I had put in.
Upon a suggestion from General Henry J. Hunt, the famous chief of
artillery, when I was in the War Department, I ordered a light-
artillery school to be established at Fort Riley, Kansas. Also,
upon his suggestion, I directed that the four batteries which were
to compose that school should be supplied with carbines, so that
they might serve as cavalry when necessary to protect the neighboring
settlements against Indian raids, and thus overcome any objection
which might be urged on the ground that the barracks at Fort Riley
were needed for cavalry. The school was organized, under Colonel
John Hamilton; the batteries did good service as cavalry in the
summers of 1869 and 1870; and all was working, as I thought, in a
highly satisfactory manner so long as I remained in command of that
department. But after I went to California, for some inscrutable
reason the school was broken up and the batteries again scattered
to separate posts.
ORIGIN OF THE MILITARY SCHOOL AT FORT RILEY
When that department again came under by command, as part of the
Division of the Missouri, and General Sheridan was in command of
the army, a move was made by somebody to get possession of that
splendid military reservation of Fort Riley for some other purpose.
Hence it became necessary to manifest in some more striking way
the importance of that place for military uses. The occasion had
again come for carrying out that scheme which Hunt and I had devised
for doing what was so much needed for the artillery. Fortunately,
General Sheridan wanted also to do something beneficial for the
cavalry, in which he felt much the same special interest that I
did in the artillery. So a sort of alliance, offensive and defensive,
was formed, which included as its most active and influential member
Senator Plumb of Kansas, to obtain the necessary funds and build
a suitable post and establish at Fort Riley a school of cavalry
and light artillery. The result finally attained, when I was in
command of the army, is well known, and is an honor to the country.
The department headquarters were removed to St. Louis during the
winter of 1869-70 to make room at Fort Leavenworth for the cavalry
who had been on the plains during the summer. I then had the
pleasure of renewing the intimate friendships which had been formed
between 1860 and 1863 in that most hospitable city. Even those
ties which had been so rudely severed by war in the spring of 1861
were restored and became as strong as ever. I found that the memory
of a little humanity displayed in mitigating somewhat the horrors
of war had sufficed to obliterate in those few years the recollection
of a bitter sectional enmity; while, on the other hand, a record
of some faithful service far enough from their eyes to enable them
to see it without the aid of a microscope, and the cooler judgment
of a few years of peace, had so far obscured the partizan contests
of a period of war that none were more cordial friends in 1869 than
those who had seemed bitterest enemies six years before. Human
nature is not half so bad as it sometimes pretends to be. As a
rule, it would be pretty good all the time if men could only keep
cool. Among all the enjoyments of that season in St. Louis, that
which left the deepest impression on my memory, as has always been
the case with me, was the sport at Hat Island, under the management
of that most genial of companions, Ben Stickney. We hunted with
hounds before breakfast every morning, and shot water-fowl from
breakfast till supper. What was done after supper has never been
told. What conclusive evidence of the "reversionary" tendency in
civilized man to a humbler state! He never feels so happy as when
he throws off a large part of his civilization and reverts to the
life of a semi-savage. The only thing that saves him from total
relapse is the fact that he takes with him those little comforts,
both liquid and solid, which cannot be found in the woods. He thus
keeps up the taste that finally draws him back again to a civilized,
or, more accurately, semi-civilized life. If any sportsman knows
any better reason than that for not living like a savage when in
his hunting-camp, I would like him to give that reason to me!
We returned to Fort Leavenworth in the spring, and expected to make
that our permanent home. Some necessary improvements had been made
in the quarters during the winter, and no one could have desired
a more comfortable residence, more congenial companionship, or more
agreeable occupation than that of guarding and protecting the infant
settlements of industrious but unarmed and confiding people rapidly
spreading far out upon the plains. With my cavalry and carbined
artillery encamped in front, I wanted no other occupation in life
than to ward off the savage and kill off his food until there should
no longer be an Indian frontier in our beautiful country.
FUNERAL OF GENERAL GEORGE H. THOMAS
But soon after my pickets were put out on the plains, there came
the sad news of the sudden death, in San Francisco, of my old
commander, General George H. Thomas. His body was brought east to
Troy, New York, for interment. All his old companions, including
President Grant, assembled to pay the last tribute of respect and
honor to that noble old soldier, whose untimely death was deeply
mourned by all. It was a most impressive scene, All the high
commanders of the vast army which had been disbanded five years
before assembled around the grave of one of their number. The hero
was buried, as he had lived, honored by all who knew him, and
mourned by the nation he had so faithfully served.
Immediately after the funeral of General Thomas there was, if I
recollect rightly, a large assembly, in Philadelphia, of the Society
of the Army of the Potomac. General Grant and General Sherman were
there, and we met at an early dinner at the house of General Meade,
who had been designated by General Sherman to succeed General Thomas
in command of the Division of the Pacific. After dinner General
Meade took me to drive through Fairmount Park, in which he was
greatly interested as president of the commission having it in
charge. He explained to me the great sacrifice he would make in
giving up command of the Division of the Atlantic, and his congenial
occupation and pleasant home in Philadelphia, where he was best
known and most highly respected, and where, as I could see in
driving along, almost everybody recognized and saluted him. I
thought he had indeed better reason to feel satisfied with his home
than any other man I had known. But he, too, great and brave
soldier, was given but little longer to enjoy the high honors he
had so nobly won in command of the Army of the Potomac. When I
had so far recovered from a severe attack of pneumonia as to be
permitted to look for the first time at a morning paper, one of
the first things that attracted by attention was the death of
General Meade, from the same disease, the day before.
Of course the President did not hesitate to accede to General
Meade's desire, for he had given him, only a year before, the
division of his choice. As is well known, the relations between
General Meade and General Hancock were not at that time quite
satisfactory. As I knew the exact truth at the time, I think it
my duty to state that General Grant believed that General Hancock
had not at one time shown that degree of subordination which a
soldier ought always to feel. But to the honor of both be it said
that their difference was ere long removed, and General Hancock
was assigned to command the Division of the Atlantic, according to
his rank. In the meantime, it fell my lot to take the Division of
the Pacific, which I had a year before gladly relinquished in favor
of General Thomas.
Soon after my arrival in San Francisco, General Sherman met me
there, and we went together, by sea, to Oregon, where we met General
Canby, then commanding the Department of the Columbia. We ascended
the Columbia River to Umatilla, and rode by stage from that place
to Kelton, on the Central Pacific Railroad, seven hundred and fifty
miles. After a visit to Salt Lake City, we returned to St. Louis,
where I had some work to complete as president of a board on tactics
and small arms, upon the completion of which I returned to San
Francisco.
In the summer of 1871, after the great earthquake of that year, I
made a trip across the Sierra to Camp Independence, which had been
destroyed, to consider the question of rebuilding that post. Of
the buildings, brick or adobe, not one remained in condition to be
occupied. Very fortunately, all in the garrison had received timely
warning from the first shock, so that none were injured by the
second and third shocks, which tumbled everything to the ground.
Some thirty people living in small adobe houses in Owens River
valley were killed. Sounds like heavy artillery in the distance
were still heard at intervals after our arrival. For many miles
along the length of the valley a great crevasse had been formed by
the upheaval, which must have been many feet in height. In the
subsidence one side had fallen several feet lower than the other,
and at a place where the crack crossed the wagon-tracks a horizontal
motion of several feet had taken place, the road marking its
permanent effect.
ASSIGNED TO THE DIVISION OF THE PACIFIC
We ascended Owens River valley to the source of that stream,
recrossed the mountains by the "bloody" cañon, and descended through
the great Yosemite valley, which from the higher altitude looked
like a little "hole in the ground." That was the least interesting
of all my four visits to that wonderful work of nature. Our round
trip occupied about seven weeks.
At our last camp, in Tuolumne meadows, some time in August, after
the temperature had been above eighty degrees in the daytime, it
fell below thirty at night. I contracted a cold which developed
into pneumonia, from which I did not recover for many months. It
was during my convalescence that I went with Colonel B. S. Alexander
to the Hawaiian Islands, under an arrangement previously made with
the War Department.
It was the year 1872 when I and Colonel Alexander, the senior
engineer officer on the Pacific coast, who had applied to the War
Department and obtained an order to visit the Hawaiian Islands for
the purpose of reporting to the War Department, confidentially,
the value of those islands to the United States for military and
naval purposes, went to Hawaii with Rear-Admiral Pennock on the
flag-ship _California_, and returned, three months later, on the
war-steamer _Benicia_. During our stay we visited the largest
island of the group,--Hawaii,--and its principal seaport,--Hilo,--
and the great crater of Kilauea. We made a careful examination of
the famous harbor of Pearl River, in the island of Oahu, a few
miles from Honolulu, including a survey of the entrance to that
harbor and an estimate of the cost of cutting a deep ship-channel
through the coral reef at the extremity of that entrance toward
the sea.
At that time the young king Lunalilo had just ascended the throne
made vacant by the death of the last of the ancient reigning house
of Hawaii. The policy of the preceding king had been annexation
to the United States; but the new sovereign and his advisers were
opposed to that policy, although very friendly to Americans, and
largely controlled by their influence in governmental affairs. It
was manifest that the question of annexation ought not to be
discussed at that time, but that action ought to be taken at once
to secure to the United States the exclusive right to the use of
Pearl River harbor for naval purposes, and to prepare the way to
make annexation to the United States sure in due time. This could
readily be done by making such concessions in favor of the products
of Hawaiian industries as would develop the resources of the islands
and increase their wealth, all of which would be to the ultimate
benefit of the United States when the islands should become a part
of this country.
A VISIT TO HAWAII
The continuous and rapid decay of all the ancient families of
chiefs, from which alone would the people ever think of electing
a king or a queen, and the notorious corruption in blood and
character of the few remaining half-castes nominally belonging to
those ancient families, made it plain to all that the monarchical
government must soon die a natural death, or become so intolerably
corrupt as to make its overthrow inevitable. Americans by birth
or descent were then, and had been for a long time, the controlling
element in the government. While perfectly faithful to that
government, they had lost none of their love for their native
country, and looked forward with confidence to the time when the
islands, like ripe fruit, should fall into the lap of their beloved
mother. These American Hawaiians were men of very high character,
and much above the average of intelligence even in this country.
They had no desire to force the ripening of the fruit, but were
perfectly content to bide the course of nature, which must of
necessity produce the result in no long time.
It seems to me a very narrow view of the intelligence of the people
of this country which suggests any serious difficulty in the
government of outlying possessions which are essentially military
and naval outposts simply because their heterogeneous populations
are not yet capable of self-government, or fit for admission to
the Union as a State. If the Territorial system to which the
country is accustomed is not appropriate in any special case, and
the prejudice against a military government is regarded as
insurmountable, we have an example in the present government of
the District of Columbia,--one of the best and most economical in
the world,--which would require very slight modification to make
it perfectly applicable to any of the islands of the Atlantic, the
Pacific, or the gulf which may be acquired by this country. I do
not believe any man worthy of the title of statesman will admit
for a moment that the United States cannot govern, and govern well,
any national outposts or other possessions which the interests of
the country may require it to hold. In fact, it seems an almost
self-evident proposition that a government, under exclusive national
authority, exercised over comparatively small districts of country
and small population, under the constant observation of the people
and public press of the entire country, is more likely to be just
and pure than any other. Responsibility to a local constituency
undoubtedly has great advantages, but responsibility to the government
and entire people of the United States has vastly greater.
When it was proposed to me in Virginia, in 1867, that I become a
candidate for the United States Senate under the State government
which I was trying to "reconstruct," I replied that in my opinion
the highest qualification I possessed for that difficult duty I
was then required to perform resided in the fact that there was
"nothing in the gift of Virginia which I could afford to accept."
I believe now that the highest external incentive to honorable
conduct anywhere in the world is that of responsibility to the
government and the whole people of the United States. There need
be no apprehension that any American who has a national reputation
at stake will be guilty of any of the crimes which are said to
stain the administration of viceroys in some parts of the world.
The prejudice which still exists in this country in respect to
military government is due solely to the fact that the people do
not yet appreciate the legitimate influence which they themselves
exercise over their public servants, military no less than civil.
Indeed, there is perhaps no other class of citizens so sensitive
to public criticism as those in the military service, certainly
none who value more highly their reputation for faithful and
honorable conduct in the public service. I do not hesitate to give
it as my deliberate judgment, based upon the experience of half a
century, that the best and most satisfactory government any island
of the West Indies can have in the next hundred years will be a
military government under an officer of the United States army.
It is only an incident of despotic governments, past or present,
that soldiers have been employed to execute despotic orders. The
common inference that military government is essentially despotic
is absolutely false. On the contrary, military men are, as a rule,
the most humane. This has been most notably so in the history of
this country. Almost without exception, the soldiers of all grades
in the Union army desired to treat the conquered South with all
possible kindness and humanity, while the men who inflicted upon
the Southern people the worst form of cruelty were men who had
never fought a battle. There have been some cruel soldiers in the
world, many more cruel men who were not soldiers except perhaps in
name. Men of that character generally avoid danger. What mankind
has most to dread is the placing of military power in the hands of
men who are not real soldiers. They are quite sure to abuse it in
one way or the others, by cruelty to their own men, or else to
others. The same disregard for human life which induces an ignorant
man to take command of troops and send them to useless slaughter
may well manifest itself in barbarity toward prisoners of war or
non-combatants; but a real soldier is never guilty of either of
those crimes, which seem to me alike among the greatest in military
experience.
TROUBLE WITH THE MODOC INDIANS
The Modoc Indians were a brave people, and had always been friends
of the whites; but their old home in southern Oregon was rich
grazing-land, and was much coveted by the ranchmen of that region.
Hence the Modocs were induced in some way to leave their homes and
go upon the Klamath reservation. There they were starved and
generally abused until they could stand it no longer. They went
back to their old place, and declared they would die rather than
go to live with the Klamaths again. Repeated requests were made
by the Indian Bureau to the War Department to force the Modocs to
go back to the Klamaths; but this was firmly opposed by General
Canby, commanding the department; by me, who then commanded the
Division of the Pacific; and by General Sherman, commanding the
army. No such order could be obtained in the regular way. Resort
was had to an innocent old army regulation which directed department
commanders to render such military assistance as might be necessary
to enable the Indian superintendents to carry out their orders from
Washington. Without the knowledge of the President, or the Secretary
of War, or the general of the army, an order was sent from the
Indian Bureau in Washington to send the Modocs back to the Klamath
reservation, and to call on the department commander for troops to
enforce the order. General Canby, honorable and simple-hearted
man that he was, never imagined that such an order could come from
Washington, after all that had been said about it, unless with the
sanction of the highest authority and the knowledge of the War
Department. He did not even think it necessary to report to the
division commander the requisition which had been made upon him
for troops, but loyally obeyed the old regulation. The first
information that came to me was that the troops had been beaten
with heavy loss, and that many of the surrounding settlers had been
killed by the Indians. A long and bloody war ensued, with some
results which were deplorable in the extreme. General Canby's
confiding nature had led him into a terrible mistake. He had
executed an unwise regulation which placed military power in unworthy
hands, without waiting to inquire whether that power was not, in
fact, about to be unlawfully abused, and thus had become a party
to the sacrifice of many innocent lives. The brave and noble-
hearted Canby strove in every possible way to make peace with the
Modocs without further shedding of innocent blood. But the savage
red man, who had never been guilty of breaking faith with a civilized
white man, would no longer trust any one of the "treacherous race."
He paid them back "in their own coin," according to his traditional
method. Though warned of the danger, Canby went calmly into the
trap they had laid for him, in the hope that his confidence might
inspire their respect; but he was the very man whose troops had
been ordered to drive them out from their happy homes, and they
treacherously killed him. And I doubt not, if more blood must be
shed, he preferred to be the first to die. This is the true history
of the "Canby massacre."
THE CANBY MASSACRE
After a long contest, costing many lives, the Modocs were subdued
and made prisoners. Those Indians who had been engaged in the
massacre were tried and justly executed according to the laws of
civilized war, while those white men who, in no less flagrant
disregard of the laws of civilization, brought on the war were not
called to any account for their crime. But President Grant, when
I called his attention to the abuse of that old regulation, promptly
abolished it. Since that time, as I understand it, no man but the
head of the nation can order the army to kill unless necessary in
defense, nor determine for what purposes the army may be employed.
The people of the United States are advancing, though slowly, in
civilization. Their fundamental law has very wisely always provided
that Congress alone should have power to "declare war"; but for
many years any Indian agent, or any bloodthirsty white man on the
frontier, who chose to kill an Indian in cold blood, could inaugurate
a war without waiting to declare it, and that without the slightest
danger of punishment. A little military justice, in the absence
of any possible civil government, in what was so long called the
"Indian country" would have saved many hundreds of millions of
dollars and many thousands of lives. But the inherited prejudice
against "military despotism" has hardly yet been eradicated from
the minds of the millions of freemen who inhabit this country--as
if seventy or fifty, or even thirty, millions of people could not
defend their liberties against a little standing army! A white
murderer was long regarded as so much better than an honest Indian
that the murderer must go free because there was no judge or jury
to try him, while the Indian must be shot by the soldiers, without
trial, for trying to protect himself from murder. If the innocent
could be separated from the guilty, "plague, pestilence, and famine"
would not be an unjust punishment for the crimes committed in this
country against the original occupants of the soil. And it should
be remembered that when retribution comes, though we may not
understand why, the innocent often share the fate of the guilty.
The law under which nations suffer for their crimes does not seem
to differ much from the law of retribution which governs the savage
Indian.
No possible plea of the demands of civilization, or of the interests
of a superior race, can be held to justify such a policy as that
long pursued by the people of this country. The natural law of
the "survival of the fittest" may doubtless be pleaded in explanation
of all that has happened; but that is not a law of Christianity,
nor of civilization, nor of wisdom. It is the law of greed and
cruelty, which generally works in the end the destruction of its
devotees. In their greedy and blind pursuit of their own prey,
they lose sight of the shark that is waiting to devour them. It
is still the "fittest" that survives. It were wiser to remember
that the shark is always well armed, and if you would survive him
you must be fitter than he. If the benign law of civilization
could be relied upon always to govern, then all would be well.
But as long as sharks still live, the cruel law of nature cannot
be ignored. The highest principles and the highest wisdom, combined,
would seem to suggest the higher law as the rule of action toward
the weaker, and the natural law as the rule for defense against
the stronger. This country has, happily, already made some progress
in both directions. If that is continued a few more years, then
all, strong as well as weak, will be glad to "arbitrate" if we ask
them to.