
Thirty Years' View (Vol. II of 2)
Such was the statement of Mr. Carson, made to Senator Benton; and who, although rejected for a lieutenancy in the United States army because he did not enter it through the gate of the military academy, is a man whose word will stand wherever he is known, and who is at the head, as a guide, of the principal military successes in New Mexico. But why back his word? The very despatches he was carrying conveyed to the government the same information that he gave to General Kearney, to wit, that California was conquered and Frémont to be governor. That information was communicated to Congress by the President, and also sworn to by Commodore Stockton before the court-martial: but without any effect upon the majority of the members.
Colonel Frémont was found guilty of all the charges, and all the specifications; and in the secrecy which hides the proceedings of courts-martial, it cannot be told how, or whether the members divided in their opinions; but circumstances always leak out to authorize the formation of an opinion, and according to these leakings, on this occasion four members of the court were against the conviction: to wit, Brigadier-general Brooke, President; Lieutenant-colonel Hunt; Lieutenant-colonel Taylor, brother of the afterwards President; and Major Baker, of the Ordnance. The proceedings required to be approved, or disapproved, by the President; and he, although no military man, was a rational man, and common reason told him there was no mutiny in the case. He therefore disapproved that finding, and approved the rest, saying:
"Upon an inspection of the record, I am not satisfied that the facts proved in this case constitute the military crime of 'mutiny.' I am of opinion that the second and third charges are sustained by the proof, and that the conviction upon these charges warrants the sentence of the court. The sentence of the court is therefore approved; but in consideration of the peculiar circumstances of the case – of the previous meritorious and valuable services of Lieutenant-colonel Frémont, and of the foregoing recommendation of a majority of the court, to the clemency of the President, the sentence of dismissal from the service is remitted. Lieutenant-col. Frémont will accordingly be released from arrest, will resume his sword, and report for duty." (Dated, February 17, 1848.)
Upon the instant of receiving this order, Frémont addressed to the adjutant-general this note:
"I have this moment received the general order, No. 7 (dated the 17th instant), making known to me the final proceedings of the general court-martial before which I have been tried; and hereby send in my resignation of lieutenant-colonel in the army of the United States. In doing this I take the occasion to say, that my reason for resigning is, that I do not feel conscious of having done any thing to deserve the finding of the court; and, this being the case, I cannot, by accepting the clemency of the President, admit the justice of the decision against me."
General Kearney had two misfortunes in this court-martial affair: he had to appear as prosecutor of charges which he swore before the court were not his: and he had been attended by West Point officers envious and jealous of Frémont, and the clandestine sources of poisonous publications against him, which inflamed animosities, and left the heats which they engendered to settle upon the head of General Kearney. Major Cooke and Lieutenant Emory were the chief springs of these publications, and as such were questioned before the court, but shielded from open detection by the secret decisions of the majority of the members.
The secret proceedings of courts-martial are out of harmony with the progress of the age. Such proceedings should be as open and public as any other, and all parties left to the responsibility which publicity involves.
CHAPTER CLXXVII.
FREMONT'S FOURTH EXPEDITION, AND GREAT DISASTER IN THE SNOWS AT THE HEAD OF THE RIO GRANDE DEL NORTE: SUBSEQUENT DISCOVERY OF THE PASS HE SOUGHT
No sooner freed from the army, than Frémont set out upon a fourth expedition to the western slope of our continent, now entirely at his own expense, and to be conducted during the winter, and upon a new line of exploration. His views were practical as well as scientific, and tending to the establishment of a railroad to the Pacific, as well as the enlargement of geographical knowledge. He took the winter for his time, as that was the season in which to see all the disadvantages of his route; and the head of the Rio Grande del Norte for his line, as it was the line of the centre, and one not yet explored, and always embraced in his plan of discovery. The mountain men had informed him that there was a good pass at the head of the Del Norte. Besides other dangers and hardships, he had the war ground of the Utahs, Apaches, Navahoes, and other formidable tribes to pass through, then all engaged in hostilities with the United States, and ready to prey upon any party of whites; but 33 of his old companions, 120 picked mules, fine rifles – experience, vigilance and courage – were his reliance; and a trusted security against all evil. Arrived at the Pueblos on the Upper Arkansas, the last of November, at the base of the first sierra to be crossed, luminous with snow and stern in their dominating look, he dismounted his whole company, took to their feet, and wading waist-deep in the vast unbroken snow field, arrived on the other side in the beautiful valley of San Luis; but still on the eastern side of the great mountain chain which divided the waters which ran east and west to the rising and the setting sun. At the head of that valley was the pass, described to him by the old hunters. With his glasses he could see the depression in the mountain which marked its place. He had taken a local guide from the Pueblo San Carlos to lead him to that pass. But this precaution for safety was the passport to disaster. He was behind, with his faithful draughtsman, Preuss, when he saw his guide leading off the company towards a mass of mountains to the left: he rode up and stopped them, remonstrated with the guide for two hours; and then yielded to his positive assertion that the pass was there. The company entered a tortuous gorge, following a valley through which ran a head stream of the great river Del Norte. Finally they came to where the ascent was to begin, and the summit range crossed. The snow was deep, the cold intense, the acclivity steep, and the huge rocks projecting. The ascent was commenced in the morning, struggled with during the day, an elevation reached at which vegetation (wood) ceased, and the summit in view, when, buried in snow, exhausted with fatigue, freezing with cold, and incapable of further exertion, the order was given to fall back to the line of vegetation where wood would afford fire and shelter for the night. With great care the animals were saved from freezing, and at the first dawn of day the camp, after a daybreak breakfast, were in motion for the ascent. Precautions had been taken to make it more practicable. Mauls, prepared during the night, were carried by the foremost division to beat down a road in the snow. Men went forward by relieves. Mules and baggage followed in long single file in the track made in the snow. The mountain was scaled: the region of perpetual congelation was entered. It was the winter solstice, and at a place where the summer solstice brought no life to vegetation – no thaw to congelation. The summit of the sierra was bare of every thing but snow, ice and rocks. It was no place to halt. Pushing down the side of the mountain to reach the wood three miles distant, a new and awful danger presented itself: a snow storm raging, the freezing winds beating upon the exposed caravan, the snow become too deep for the mules to move in, and the cold beyond the endurance of animal life. The one hundred and twenty mules, huddling together from an instinct of self-preservation from each other's heat and shelter, froze stiff as they stood, and fell over like blocks, to become hillocks of snow. Leaving all behind, and the men's lives only to be saved, the discomfited and freezing party scrambled back, recrossing the summit, and finding under the lee of the mountain some shelter from the driving storm, and in the wood that was reached the means of making fires.
The men's lives were now saved, but destitute of every thing, only a remnant of provisions, and not even the resource of the dead mules which were on the other side of the summit; and the distance computed at ten days of their travel to the nearest New Mexican settlement. The guide, and three picked men, were despatched thither for some supplies, and twenty days fixed for their return. When they had been gone sixteen days, Frémont, preyed upon by anxiety and misgiving, set off after them, on foot, snow to the waist, blankets and some morsels of food on the back: the brave Godey, his draughtsman Preuss, and a faithful servant, his only company. When out six days he came upon the camp of his guide, stationary and apparently without plan or object, and the men haggard, wild and emaciated. Not seeing King, the principal one of the company, and on whom he relied, he asked for him. They pointed to an older camp, a little way off. Going there he found the man dead, and partly devoured. He had died of exhaustion, of fatigue, and his comrades fed upon him. Gathering up these three survivors, Frémont resumed his journey, and had not gone far before he fell on signs of Indians – two lodges, implying 15 or 20 men, and some 40 or 50 horses – all recently passed along. At another time this would have been an alarm, one of his fears being that of falling in with a war party. He knew not what Indians they were, but all were hostile in that quarter, and evasion the only security against them. To avoid their course was his obvious resource: on the contrary, he followed it! for such was the desperation of his situation that even a change of danger had an attraction. Pursuing the trail down the Del Norte, then frozen solid over, and near the place where Pike encamped in the winter of 1807-'8, they saw an Indian behind his party, stopped to get water from an air hole. He was cautiously approached, circumvented, and taken. Frémont told his name: the young man, for he was quite young, started, and asked him if he was the Frémont that had exchanged presents with the chief of the Utahs at Las Vegas de Santa Clara three years before? He was answered, yes. Then, said the young man, we are friends: that chief was my father, and I remember you. The incident was romantic, but it did not stop there. Though on a war inroad upon the frontiers of New Mexico, the young chief became his guide, let him have four horses, conducted him to the neighborhood of the settlements, and then took his leave, to resume his scheme of depredation upon the frontier.
Frémont's party reached Taos, was sheltered in the house of his old friend Carson – obtained the supplies needed – sent them back by the brave Godey, who was in time to save two-thirds of the party, finding the other third dead along the road, scattered at intervals as each had sunk exhausted and frozen, or half burnt in the fire which had been kindled for them to die by. The survivors were brought in by Godey, some crippled with frozen feet. Frémont found himself in a situation which tries the soul – which makes the issue between despair and heroism – and leaves no alternative but to sink under fate, or to rise above it. His whole outfit was gone: his valiant mountain men were one-third dead, many crippled: he was penniless, and in a strange place. He resolved to go forward – nulla vestigia retrorsum: to raise another outfit, and turn the mountains by the Gila. In a few days it was all done – men, horses, arms, provisions – all acquired; and the expedition resumed. But it was no longer the tried band of mountain men on whose vigilance, skill and courage he could rely to make their way through hostile tribes. They were new men, and to avoid danger, not to overcome it, was his resource. The Navahoes and Apaches had to be passed, and eluded – a thing difficult to be done, as his party of thirty men and double as many horses would make a trail, easy to be followed in the snow, though not deep. He took an unfrequented course, and relied upon the secrecy and celerity of his movements. The fourth night on the dangerous ground the horses, picketed without the camp, gave signs of alarm: they were brought within the square of fires, and the men put on the alert. Daybreak came without visible danger. The camp moved off: a man lagged a little behind, contrary to injunctions: the crack of some rifles sent him running up. It was then clear that they were discovered, and a party hovering round them. Two Indians were seen ahead: they might be a decoy, or a watch, to keep the party in view until the neighboring warriors could come in. Evasion was no longer possible: fighting was out of the question, for the whole hostile country was ahead, and narrow defiles to be passed in the mountains. All depended upon the address of the commander. Relying upon his ascendant over the savage mind, Frémont took his interpreter, and went to the two Indians. Godey said he should not go alone, and followed. Approaching them, a deep ravine was seen between. The Indians beckoned him to go round by the head of the ravine, evidently to place that obstacle between him and his men. Symptoms of fear or distrust would mar his scheme: so he went boldly round, accosted them confidently, and told his name. They had never heard it. He told them they ought to be ashamed, not to know their best friend; inquired for their tribe, which he wished to see: and took the whole air of confidence and friendship. He saw they were staggered. He then invited them to go to his camp where the men had halted, and take breakfast with him. They said that might be dangerous – that they had shot at one of his men that morning, and might have killed him, and now be punished for it. He ridiculed the idea of their hurting his men, charmed them into the camp, where they ate, and smoked, and told their secret, and became messengers to lead their tribe in one direction, while Frémont and his men escaped by another; and the whole expedition went through without loss, and without molestation. A subsequent winter expedition completed the design of this one, so disastrously frustrated by the mistake of a guide. Frémont went out again upon his own expense – went to the spot where the guide had gone astray – followed the course described by the mountain men – and found safe and easy passes all the way to California, through a good country, and upon the straight line of 38 and 39 degrees. It is the route for the Central Pacific Railroad, which the structure of the country invites, and every national consideration demands.
CHAPTER CLXXVIII.
PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION
Party conventions for the nomination of presidential candidates, had now become an institution, and a power in the government; and, so far as the party was concerned, the nomination was the election. No experience of the evils of this new power had yet checked its sway, and all parties (for three of them now appeared in the political field) went into that mode of determining the election for themselves. The democratic convention met, as heretofore, at Baltimore, in the month of May, and was numerously attended by members of Congress, and persons holding office under the federal government, who would be excluded by the constitution from the place of electors, but who became more than electors, having virtually supreme power over the selection of the President, as well as his election, so far as the party was concerned. The two-thirds rule was adopted, and that put the nomination in the hands of the minority, and of the trained intriguers. Every State was to be allowed to give the whole number of its electoral votes, although it was well known, now as heretofore, that there were many of them which could not give a democratic electoral vote at the election. The State of New York was excluded from voting. Two sets of delegates appeared from that State, each claiming to represent the true democracy: the convention settled the question by excluding both sets: and in that exclusion all the States which were confessedly unable to give a democratic vote, were allowed to vote; and most of them voted for the exclusion. Massachusetts, which had never given a democratic vote, now gave twelve votes; and they were for the exclusion of New York, which had voted democratically since the time of Mr. Jefferson; and whose vote often decided the fate of the election. The vote for the exclusion was 157 to 95: and in this collateral vote, as well as in the main one, the delegates generally voted according to their own will, without any regard to the people; and that will, with the most active and managing, was simply to produce a nomination which would be most favorable to themselves in the presidential distribution of offices. After four days work a nomination was produced. Mr. Lewis Cass, of Michigan, for President: General Wm. O. Butler, of Kentucky, for Vice-President. The construction of the platform, or party political creed for the campaign, was next entered upon, and one was produced, interminably long, and long since forgotten. The value of all such constructions may be seen in comparing what was then adopted, or rejected as political test, with what has since been equally rejected or adopted for the same purpose. For example: the principle of squatter sovereignty, that is to say, the right of the inhabitants of the territories to decide the question of slavery for themselves, was then repudiated, and by a vote virtually unanimous: it is since adopted by a vote equally unanimous. Mr. Yancy, of Alabama, submitted this resolution, as an article of democratic faith to be inserted in the creed; to wit: "That the doctrine of non-interference with the rights of property of any portion of this confederation, be it in the States or in the Territories, by any other than the parties interested in them, is the true republican doctrine recognized by this body." This article of faith was rejected; 246 against 36: so that, up to the month of May, in the year 1848, squatter sovereignty, or the right of the inhabitants of a territory to determine the question of slavery for themselves, was rejected and ignored by the democratic party.
The whig nominating convention met in Philadelphia, in the month of June, and selected General Zachary Taylor, and Millard Fillmore, Esq., for their candidates. On their first balloting, the finally successful candidates lacked much of having the requisite number of votes, there being 22 for Mr. Webster, 43 for General Scott, 97 for Mr. Clay, and 111 for General Taylor. Eventually General Taylor received the requisite majority, 171 – making his gains from the friends of Mr. Clay, whose vote was reduced to 32. The nomination of General Taylor was avowedly made on the calculation of availability – setting aside both Mr. Clay and Mr. Webster, in favor of the military popularity of Buena Vista, Monterey, Palo Alto, and Resaca de la Palma. In one respect the whig convention was more democratic than that of the democracy: it acted on the principle of the majority to govern.
But there was a third convention, growing out of the rejection of the Van Buren democratic delegates at the Baltimore democratic convention – for the exclusion, though ostensibly against both, was in reality to get rid of them – which met first at Utica, and afterwards at Buffalo, in the State of New York, and nominated Mr. Van Buren for President, and Mr. Charles Francis Adams (son of the late John Quincy Adams), for Vice-President. This convention also erected its platform, its distinctive feature being an opposition to slave institutions, and a desire to abolish, or restrain slavery wherever it constitutionally could be done. Three principles were laid down: First, That it was the duty of the federal government to abolish slavery wherever it could constitutionally be done. Second, That the States within which slavery existed had the sole right to interfere with it. Thirdly, That Congress alone can prevent the existence of slavery in the territories. By the first of these principles it would be the duty of Congress to abolish slavery in the District of Columbia; by the second, to let it alone in the States; by the third, to restrain and prevent it in the territories then free; the dogma of squatter sovereignty being abjured by this latter principle. The watchwords of the party, to be inscribed on their banner, were: "Free soil" – "Free speech" – "Free labor" – "Free men" – from which they incurred the appellation of Free-soilers. It was an organization entirely to be regretted. Its aspect was sectional – its foundation a single idea – and its tendency, to merge political principles in a slavery contention. The Baltimore democratic convention had been dominated by the slavery question, but on the other side of that question, and not openly and professedly: but here was an organization resting prominently on the slavery basis. And deeming all such organization, no matter on which side of the question, as fraught with evil to the Union, this writer, on the urgent request of some of his political associates, went to New York, to interpose his friendly offices to get the Free-soil organization abandoned. The visit was between the two conventions, and before the nominations and proceedings had become final: but in vain. Mr. Van Buren accepted the nomination, and in so doing, placed himself in opposition to the general tenor of his political conduct in relation to slavery, and especially in what relates to its existence in the District of Columbia. I deemed this acceptance unfortunate to a degree far beyond its influence upon persons or parties. It went to impair confidence between the North and the South, and to narrow down the basis of party organization to a single idea; and that idea not known to our ancestors as an element in political organizations. The Free-soil plea was, that the Baltimore democratic convention had done the same; but the answer to that was, that it was a general convention from all the States, and did not make its slavery principles the open test of the election, while this was a segment of the party, and openly rested on that ground. Mr. Van Buren himself was much opposed to his own nomination. In his letter to the Buffalo convention he said: "You all know, from my letter to the Utica convention, and the confidence you repose in my sincerity, how greatly the proceedings of that body, in relation to myself, were opposed to my earnest wishes." Yet he accepted a nomination made against his earnest wishes; and although another would have been nominated if he had refused, yet no other nomination could have given such emphasis to the character of the convention, and done as much harm. Senator Henry Dodge, of Wisconsin, had first been proposed for Vice-President; but, although opposed to the extension of slavery, he could not concur in the Buffalo platform; and declined the nomination. Of the three parties, the whig party, so far as slavery was concerned, acted most nationally; they ignored the subject, and made their nomination on the platform of the constitution, the country, and the character of their candidate.
The issue of the election did not disappoint public expectation. The State of New York could not be spared by the democratic candidate, and it was quite sure that the division of the party there would deprive Mr. Cass of the vote of that State. It did so: and these 36 votes, making a difference of 72, decided the election. The vote was 163 against 127, being the same for the vice-presidential candidates as for their principals. The States voting for General Taylor, were: Massachusetts, 12; Rhode Island 4; Connecticut, 6; Vermont, 7; New York, 36; New Jersey, 7; Pennsylvania, 26; Delaware, 3; Maryland, 8; North Carolina, 11; Georgia, 10; Kentucky, 12; Tennessee, 13; Louisiana, 6; Florida, 3. Those voting for Mr. Cass, were: Maine, 9; New Hampshire, 6; Virginia, 17; South Carolina, 9; Ohio, 23; Mississippi, 6; Indiana, 12; Illinois, 9; Alabama, 9; Missouri, 7; Arkansas, 3; Michigan, 5; Texas, 4; Iowa, 4; Wisconsin, 4. The Free-soil candidates received not a single electoral vote.
The result of the election was not without its moral, and its instruction. All the long intrigues to govern it, had miscarried. None of the architects of annexation, or of war, were elected. A victorious general overshadowed them all; and those who had considered Texas their own game, and made it the staple of incessant plots for five years, saw themselves shut out from that presidency which it had been the object of so many intrigues to gain. Even the slavery agitation failed to govern the election; and a soldier was elected, unknown to political machinations, and who had never even voted at an election.