Oregon Historical Quarterly/Volume 4/Oregon and Its Share in the Civil War
THE QUARTERLY
OF THE
Oregon Historical Society.
OREGON AND ITS SHARE IN THE CIVIL WAR.[1]
By the Convention of 1818, renewed in 1827, the Oregon Country, comprising a large part of what is now denominated in general terms, the Pacific Northwest, was under the joint occupancy of Great Britain and the United States.
The practical evidence of this joint sovereignty on the part of the British, was the sway of the Hudson Bay Company through its network of trading stations and outfitting points for its cohorts of frontiersmen and trappers. Until the advent of the missionary movement from the States, there was little practical evidence of the coordinate sovereignity of the United States.
When the missionary movement took important shape numerically it resulted in a vital need for some form of local government, and hence there arose the Provisional Government of Oregon, as it was called, fashioned on the lines of state or territorial governments on the other side of the intervening mountains and plains, "deriving its just powers from the consent of the governed," and empowered by that consent to maintain inviolate as far as possible "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness."In 1846, abandoning the political war cry of "Fifty-four Forty or Fight," which had served its demagogic use as a partisan rallying call, a boundary treaty was finally concluded between England and the United States fixing the forty-ninth parallel of latitude as the northern most boundary of the Oregon Country and of the United States in the Northwest.
But still the provisional Government of the immigrants, incomplete in concept, rude in operation, imperfect in power, was the only form of government, the ten to fifteen thousand Americans in this vast domain had to insure domestic tranquillity or oppose resistance to the ever present savage foe.
In message after message President Polk called the attention of Congress to its inaction and the dangers to which that inaction exposed the settlers and how far short of its manifest duty the national legislators were in their neglect; but there were mighty reasons back of this neglect; mighty forces were battling in the halls of legislation—the titanic combat was on between Freedom and Slavery and the Missouri Compromise line was some leagues to the northward of where California began. The Provisional Legislature of 1845 had taken firm ground on the slavery question and the ordinance of 1787 prohibiting slavery was incorporated in its organic law.
The Douglas house bill of 1846, seeking to organize a territorial government for Oregon, followed in this regard the expressed desire of the colonists, and met a prompt and instant defeat at the hands of the Southern senators. Thereupon, Douglas sought to get around the question by a different bill (he was then in the Senate) containing a clause sanctioning the colonial laws of Oregon, which would, as a matter of fact, accomplish the same result. Joseph L. Meek, an accredited representative of the colonists had undergone a dangerous overland winter journey to enforce upon the President and Congress the necessity of immediate action and of Federal aid in the constant conflict with the surrounding Indian tribes.
Judge Thornton, the personal representative of Governor Abernethy of the provisional government, was also in Washington on the same errand, having come by ocean.
The senate bill of Douglas was finally passed, after being amended in the spirit of compromise ever dominant in those days, whereby the colonial laws on the subject of slavery were to be continued in force until such time as "the legislature could adopt some other law on the subject," but the House promptly laid this bill on the table and rejoined with a measure practically identical with the Douglas house bill of 1846, and after a long and bitter contest, in which Thomas H. Benton led the fight for Oregon, on the fourteenth of August, 1848, Oregon became a territory of the United States on her own terms, and free soil in name as well as in fact.
President Polk promptly appointed General Joseph Lane, of Indiana, a native of North Carolina, and a veteran commander of the Mexican war, as the first territorial governor of Oregon, and urged upon him the immediate organization of the government, in order that it might be inaugurated before March 4, 1849, when there would be a change in the presidency.
The long journey of Governor Lane, accompanied by ex-Delegate Meek, now United States Marshal, across the continent by the Santa Fé trail, and up the coast from San Francisco, is one of the stirring incidents of those stirring times, and on the third of March, 1849, but one day before the expiration of President Polk's term of office, General Lane issued a proclamation making known that he entered upon the discharge of the duties of his office, and proclaiming the Federal laws in force over the Oregon country. Thus was the consummation so longed for by the President brought to pass, and what he had striven for so long and so patriotically fulfilled in the closing hours of his administration. During the years of territorial government the slavery question that was tormenting the brain and conscience of the North and the heart and chivalry of the South, played but little part in the life of the far distant territory.
The political complexion of the territory was overwhelmingly Democratic, but it was democracy of the free soil order, which only asked of the negro to keep out of its sight and out of its mind. In line with this temper was the enforcement against two unfortunate blacks of the territorial enactment against free negroes, which being promptly held constitutional by the territorial supreme court, the two offenders were gently but firmly deported from the boundaries of the "white man's country." This same deep-lying sentiment found added expression in the forth coming State Constitution, wherein it was enacted "No free negro or mulatto not residing in this State at the time of the adoption of this Constitution shall come, reside, or be within this State, or hold any real estate, or make any contracts, or maintain any suit therein; and the legislative assembly shall provide by penal laws for the removal by public officers of all such negroes and mulattoes, and for their effectual exclusion from the State, and for the punishment of persons who shall bring them into the State or employ or harbor them." Added expression was given to this point of view in the vote on the subject of admission of free negroes, submitted to the people in connection with the vote on the adoption of the proposed constitution—here the vote in favor of their admission was 1,081, contrarywise 8,640.
A potent influence at Washington towards Oregon's admission as a state was the well-known democracy of the State, and at home the indebtedness to the colonists of the National Government in connection with the Indian wars—it seemed plain that two senators and one congressman who could vote as well as talk could accomplish more than one delegate who could only talk; and so the vote for the adoption of the State Constitution was 7,195 for and only 3,215 against.
On the subject of slavery, submitted to the people at the same election, the vote was likewise significant and illuminating, 7,727 voted for freedom and but 2,645 for slavery. Coming as this overwhelming vote did when the agitation of the slavery question was at a white heat both in and out of Congress, it was startling in its clear and unequivocal verdict on this great question—and it is especially significant when we recall the great preponderance of Oregon voters born in slaveholding states and cradled in the doctrine of African bondage. Can the conclusion be other than that they realized the economic and moral blight of the slave system and resolved to have none of it in their fair State.
In this election the free soil democrats and the whigs under Thomas J. Dryer were found quietly but none the less actually fighting shoulder to shoulder.
It is a delicate task to attempt to chronicle history while yet the actual participants are some of them living and the children and grandchildren of many more constitute our friends and neighbors, and far be it from me to criticise the motives or sincerity of those who were wrong in the troublous days that followed except in so far as is necessary to set forth the facts of history.
On the fourteenth of February, 1859, Oregon became a State of the Union. From the loins of the old Whig party in Oregon, as well as elsewhere in the country, sprang forth that young giant the Republican party, and to the leadership of Dryer was added the silvery eloquence of Edward D. Baker, lately come from California. The uncompromising slavery wing of the Democratic party nominated John C. Breckinridge for President and Joseph Lane, Oregon's first territorial governor and present senator, for Vice President. Stephen A. Douglas headed the regular Democratic ticket and Abraham Lincoln was the Republican chieftain.
In Oregon there was a new alignment alike of leaders and of the rank and file—despite the wonderful personal popularity of Oregon's favorite son Joseph Lane, and the passionate oratory of Delazon Smith his chief campaigner, Oregon cast her vote for Abraham Lincoln for President of the United States. The combined Douglas and Lincoln vote was 9,480, while Breckinridge and Lane polled 5,074; and from this computation we see that a trifle more than one third of the voters of Oregon were apparently prepared to follow the programme of disunion and secession. Colonel Baker, by a coalition of republicans and Douglas democrats, was chosen United States Senator, and left almost immediately for Washington to take up his official duties; but he left behind him the courageous inspiration of his lofty patriotism—he had played upon and touched both the heart and conscience of the young Commonwealth, and while the months that followed were months of waiting and watching and of prayer, as elsewhere in the Union, there was never any real question, after the wonderful rousing of the public mind and the public heart of Oregon, largely wrought by his matchless eloquence and high ideals, that should war, that saddest of all conflicts, a civil war, ensue, the brave young State would stand by the flag of the Fathers and the cause of human liberty. At the city of San Francisco, en route for Washington, Colonel Baker, in fiery and impassioned rhetoric, nailed his banner and Oregon's to the Nation's masthead.
He said "As for me, I dare not, will not, be false to freedom. Where the feet of my youth were planted, there by freedom my feet shall ever stand. I will walk beneath her banner. I will glory in her strength. I have seen her in history struck down on a hundred fields of battle. I have seen her friends fly from her, her foes gather around her. I have seen her bound to a stake. I have seen them give her ashes to the winds; but when they turned to exult, I have seen her again meet them face to face, resplendent in complete steel, brandishing in her strong right hand a flaming sword, red with insufferable light. I take courage. The people gather round her. The genius of America will yet lead her sons to freedom."
How could such a spirit, such a faith fail to overcome the forces of disunion and slavery or fail to inspire his fellow-Oregonians with his own unalterable patriotism. Despite all the warnings, despite all the months and years of anticipation and alarm, here, as elsewhere, the fall of Sumpter came like an electric shock.
Douglas democrats and republicans alike became but Union men and the old flag waving in the breeze brought tears, tears of shame and tears of determination, even to the eyes of many who had voted for Breckinridge and Lane.
On the same steamer that brought the news of the fall of Sumpter, came Joseph Lane, the ex-senator, the defeated candidate for Vice President. It is known that he came prepared, if not officially, yet fully authorized to head a movement for capturing Oregon for disunion. Numerous boxes of guns and ammunition accompanied him to his destination for this purpose.
But scarcely had he put foot on the wharves of the Oregon metropolis, than he realized the vast misconception he had made of his home people. Douglas democrats and republicans, and many who had but lately voted for him for the vice presidency, declared without hesitation for the Union; and the idol of the Oregon democracy, tainted with secession and disunion, spurned even by his former friends, made his way unaccompanied and unheralded to his southern Oregon home by a devious trail, fearing the mob justice of the justly enraged citizens of the leading valley towns. And yet it was not all one way in Oregon in those troublous days. In certain quarters the disunion sentiment was powerful and dangerous.
In the Historical Society's rooms in Portland hangs a banner first flung to the breeze on July 4, 1861, not forty miles from that city. It is fashioned of long strips of red and white ribbon, and in the center of its starry field is an eagle, made by the deft fingers of a pioneer woman. The old immigrant who donated it to the Historical Society has related how, when he heard the news of the fall of Sumpter, he immediately determined to celebrate the Fourth of July by flinging the Stars and Stripes to the breeze from his own home and with that end in view had procured the ribbon and caused his liberty loving wife to fashion it into his country's flag. This coming to the ears of certain hot-heads among his neighbors, he was called upon by a committee and asked if it was true that he intended hoisting the Old Flag on the anniversary of the nation's birth. To his affirmative reply came the sharp retort that it would never be allowed to stay, but would forthwith be torn down.
"No man will haul down that flag except over my dead body," was the stern reply of the sturdy old pioneer. The days ran by and the self-formed committee thought that the old pioneer had heeded their warning, when one day the news spread that a flagstaff, tall and straight, and as unbending as the old man's determination, lay before the pioneer house. Then the elders of the hot-heads began to counsel moderation, to tell of the old neighbor's good deeds, of his unswerving sense of duty, of his faultless marksmanship that before that flag could be lowered not only the rough old patriot must lie cold in death but many of the attacking party would bite the dust.
Reflection cooled the disunion ardor; perhaps "a tinge of sadness, a blush of shame o'er the face of the leader came," howbeit on the Fourth of July, 1861, that beautiful silken banner floated on the wings of the whispering wind and in the eagle's beak a dead serpent hung, sounding a note of derision as well as of triumph from the old man's heart.
And while in a few days a more generous impulse came over him, and he himself took down the flag and had the serpent removed from the eagle's beak, yet with that single exception, until the final pæan of victory was sung at Appomattox, that silken emblem of his beloved country caressed by summer zephyrs and kissed by the soft mists of winter, floated undisturbed above his patriotic home.
Col. George Hunter, in his quaintly interesting narrative "Reminiscences of an Old Timer," tells of a somewhat similar incident down in the Rogue River country. He says: "One day there had assembled at a store, where the double-distilled extract of corn was chiefly dispensed, a considerable crowd of men, most of whom were violent secessionists, and they were soon filled up, as good democrats were supposed to be, with the exhilarating beverage. From some cause or other the grand old Stars and Stripes had on this day been raised on a pole or staff near by, and pretty soon these half-tipsy fellows took offense at the defiant colors, and swore they would tear it down. Two or more of them started to execute the threat. Some of the crowd remonstrated, but to no avail. I being a stranger and a democrat, supposed the republicans present would protect the flag, but seeing no movement in that direction, and that if the flag was kept floating something must be done and done quickly, I grabbed an old musket that chanced to be standing in the corner of the store, and with my best speed I made for that flagstaff. My great-grandfathers had both served with Washington at Brandywine and Valley Forge, and my grandfather with Jackson at New Orleans, and I could't stand by and see the grand old banner disgracefully lowered by a drunken rabble of rebel sympathizers. As I ran swiftly forward I called frequently to their leader to stop, but he paid no attention to me. Knowing that nearly all men carried pistols in those days, and that these men were made desperate by drink, I determined to have the first shot. I took a quick aim and drew the trigger. The cap burst clear, but no report followed. Then there was a race between me and their leader for the flagstaff (all the rest stopped when the cap burst). We met at the flagstaff, and just as he was about to cut the halyards to lower the flag, my gun went off in a different way (it didn't snap that time), and the barrel brought down on his head proved more effective than the bullet which refused to leave the barrel.
"Well, he laid down sudden like, and as I now had time to draw my revolver, I informed the mob that I would shoot the first man that attempted to haul down that flag before sundown. That settled it. Friends removed my man to the store, and many Union men gathered to my assistance, which had the effect of stopping any further demonstrations in that direction. At the going down of the sun, we lowered the flag, cheering as we did so, and laid it away with the honor we considered to be due the 'flag of the brave and the emblem of the free.'"
In 1861 there were only about seven hundred men and nineteen commissioned officers in the regular army in the whole of Oregon and Washington, the force having been reduced to its lowest possible limit by withdrawals to strengthen the forces in the East. These troops were distributed as follows: 111 men, under Capt. H. M. Black, at Vancouver; 116 men, under Major Lugenbeel, at Colville; 127 men, under Major Steen, at Walla Walla; 41 men, under Captain Van Voast, at the Cascades; 43 men, under Capt. F. T. Dent, at Hoskins; 110 men at the two posts of Steilacoom and Camp Pickett, and 54 men under Lieutenant-Colonel Buchanan, at The Dalles, all under the general command of Colonel Wright, with Brig.-Gen. E. V. Sumner commanding the military department of the Pacific.
Twofold dangers threatened the widely scattered settlements; from without, the ever hostile Indians who were further emboldened by the inevitable spirit of uncertainty and unrest that followed on the heels of civil war, and from within, disunion intrigue might at any time blaze into armed rebellion. It was a time that tried men's souls.
In June, 1861, Colonel Wright made a requisition upon Governor Whiteaker for a three-year cavalry company to be mustered into the service of the United States and A. P. Dennison, former Indian Agent at The Dalles, was appointed enrolling officer. Suspicion of the loyalty of both the Governor and of Dennison to the Union cause, retarded enlistment and finally led to the abandonment of the undertaking.
In November, 1861, the War Department made Thomas R. Cornelius colonel, and directed him to raise ten companies of cavalry for the service of the United States for three years, to be a part, as it was supposed, of the five hundred thousand volunteers called for by President Lincoln. Colonel Baker from Washington had taken an active interest in encouraging the raising of this famous regiment—it was the original regiment of Rough Riders of the West. There was an impression that nowhere in the East could there be gathered together cavalrymen to withstand the onslaughts of the dashing Southron on his black charger and the First Oregon Cavalry was recruited on the express promise that should the war continue they would be speedily transferred to the Army of the Potomac and given opportunity to cross swords with the flower of Southern chivalry.
From the lava beds of Jackson County to the plains of the Tualatin rang the bugle call to duty and the pick of the youth of this young State were soon in the saddle under the guidon of freedom. R. F. Maury was commissioned lieutenant-colonel, Benjamin F. Harding, quartermaster, C. S. Drew major, and J. S. Rinearson junior major. Each volunteer furnished his own horse and received for himself and mount $31 a month, $100 bounty and a land warrant for one hundred and sixty acres of land. Company "A" was raised in Jackson County, Capt. T. S. Harris; Company "B" in Marion County, Capt. E. J. Harding; "C" at Vancouver, Capt. Wm. Kelly; "D" in Jackson County by Capt. S. Truax; "E" by Capt. George B. Currey in Wasco County; "F" by Capt. William J. Matthews in Josephine County; and Capt. D. P. Thompson of Oregon City and Capt. R. Cowles of the Umpqua also had companies. Six complete companies rendezvoused at Vancouver in May, 1862, and were clothed in government uniforms and armed with old-fashioned muzzle-loading rifles, pistols, and sabres.
Colonel Baker was the warm personal friend of Lincoln; he had promised the boys of the First Oregon Cavalry before recruiting began that they should have a chance, if the war continued, of serving in the East; many of the present survivors have told me that they enlisted on this express promise, and had Colonel Baker lived there is every reason to believe that with his strong personal influence with the President, "Tom Cornelius' Rough Riders of Oregon" would have been the prototype in fame, as they were in fact, of "Roosevelt's Rough Riders" of the Spanish war. Colonel Baker was the colonel of the Fourth Illinois in the Mexican war, and it was hardly to be expected that a man of his ardent temperament could sit tamely in the halls of legislation while the rattle of musketry and the roll of drums were heard at the very gates of the national capital.
And thus it came to pass, for on June 28, 1861, he was mustered into service for three years as colonel of the First California Infantry, a regiment he recruited largely in Pennsylvania, and which was afterwards denominated the Seventy-first Pennsylvania. On August 6, 1861, he was commissioned Brigadier-General of Volunteers, to rank from May 17, which commission, although confirmed by the Senate, he declined, as he did also a later appointment as Major-General of Volunteers, as either appointment would have necessitated his resignation as senator from Oregon. It is stated that when General Scott had to give up general command of the army on account of his advancing years, President Lincoln tendered the succession to Colonel Baker, which was alike declined for the same reason.
With impetuous courage and passionate desire to serve his country upon the field of battle as well as on the floor of the Senate, Colonel Baker could not stay at the rear, but joined his regiment at the front, and was as active in the work of the camp as he had been upon the stump and rostrum. Occasionally he would revisit the Senate and participate in a day's debate and then hurry back to his military duties. It was at such a time, sitting in his seat in the Senate, clad in his colonel's uniform that John C. Breckinridge of Kentucky, late pro slavery candidate for the presidency with Joseph Lane, delivered a speech which was but a reflection of the secession views of those braver Southerners who were already in armed rebellion. Colonel Baker grew restive under the words of Breckinridge, his face glowed with passionate excitement, and he sprang to the floor when the senator from Kentucky took his seat and then and there without previous preparation delivered that wonderful philippic, abounding in denunciation and invective which alone would make a niche for him in the world's temple of fame.
Passionately he asked "What would have been thought, if in another capitol, in a yet more martial age, a senator with the Roman purple flowing from his shoulders, had risen in his place, surrounded by all the illustrations of Roman glory, and declared that advancing Hannibal was just and that Carthage should be dealt with in terms of peace? What would have been thought, if after the battle of Cannæ, a senator had denounced every levy of the Roman people, every expenditure of its treasure, every appeal to the old recollections and the old glories?" Mr. Fessenden, of Maine, who sat near, responded in an undertone, "He would have been hurled from the Tarpeian rock;" and in tones of thunder Baker flashed forth the suggested fate and continued "Are not the speeches of the senator from Kentucky intended for disorganization? Are they not intended to destroy our zeal? Are they not intended to animate our enemies? Sir, are they not words of brilliant polished treason even in the very capitol of the Republic?" And then replying to a taunt of Breckinridge about the loyalty of the Pacific coast, he went on "When the senator from Kentucky speaks of the Pacific I see another distinguished friend from Illinois, now worthily representing the State of California, who will bear witness that I know that State, too, and well. I take the liberty, I know that I but utter his sentiments, to say that that State will be true to the Union to the last of her blood and treasure. There may be some disaffected men there and in Oregon, but the great portion of our population are loyal to the core and in every chord of their hearts. They are offering to add to the legions of the country, every day, by the hundred and the thousand. They are willing to come thousands of miles with their arms on their shoulders, at their own expense, to share, with the best offering of their heart's blood, in the great struggle of constitutional liberty."
Can there be any different conclusion than that in that strong passage, Colonel Baker referred among others to the First Oregon Cavalry, which, though largely recruited after his death, was the direct product of his inspiration and suggestion. On the twenty-first of October, 1861, while gallantly leading his regiment at the battle of Ball's Bluff, Colonel Baker was instantly killed, and with his death went the chance of the Oregon regiment to obtain service at the seat of war.
As the months rolled by and no fulfillment came of the promises that had been made for Eastern service, the regiment joined in a round robin to President Lincoln in which they recited the promises that had been made to them and asked for their fulfillment. The President's answer, filled with the lofty patriotism and spirit of unselfishness, that was his daily part, told them that the greatest and highest duty for all, was that which lay nearest at hand and with the regular troops almost all withdrawn from Oregon and Washington, and the tide of immigrants and scattered settlements open to Indian attack and the towns and villages liable to disunion, intrigue, and plot, their nearest as well as their highest duty was to guard the State from foes both savage and traitorous from without and from open treason within.
And to the gallant men of the First Oregon Cavalry the word of the great President was final. They accepted the task he set them to accomplish, and although to them the pomp and circumstance of war were missing, although no patriotic millions stood by to applaud their gallant feats, and the eye of Government was not upon them, yet for three long weary years they did their duty faithfully and well, and by that faithfulness preserved their beautiful State for the Union and the wonderful future that has come to it.
Some there were of Oregon blood and Oregon soil, however, who could not remain away from the greater theater of war, where the more dramatic destiny of the nation was being wrought out in havoc of blood and treasure. Col. Joseph Hooker, "Fighting Joe Hooker," living at Salem when the war broke out, went East, and became a brigadier-general, and Bancroft speaks of others as follows: "Volney Smith, son of Delazon Smith, was for a short time lieutenant in a New York regiment; James W. Lingenfelter, residing at Jacksonville, was made captain of a volunteer company, and killed at Fortress Monroe October 8, 1861; John L. Boon, son of the state treasurer, who had been a student of the Wesleyan University, Delaware, Ohio, was at the battles of Shiloh and Corinth, in an Ohio regiment, in Gen. Lew Wallace's division; Major Snooks, of the Sixty-eighth Ohio, was formerly an Oregonian of the immigration of '44; George Williams, of Salem, was second lieutenant of the Fourth Infantry, and in the second battle of Bull Run, Antietam, Frederickburg, and Gettysburg, losing a foot at Gettysburg; Frank W. Thompson, of Linn County, was colonel of the Third Virginia Volunteers in 1863; Henry Butler, of Oakland, was a member of the eighty sixth Illinois Volunteers; Charles Harker was a lieutenant; Roswell C. Lampson, still living in Portland, was the first naval cadet from Oregon, and served with conspicuous gallantry and fidelity throughout the war; Capt. W. L. Dall, of the steamship Columbia, was appointed a lieutenant in the navy; and many of the regular army officers, whose northwestern service is indissolubly connected with its early history, rose to great eminence during the progress of the war.
"Notable among them was Rufus Ingalls, who became lieutenant colonel on McClellan's staff; Captain Hazen and Lieutenant Lorraine, who was wounded at Bull Run. Grant, Sheridan, Augur, Ord, Wright, Smith, Casey, Russell, Reynolds, and Alvord, all became generals, as well as Stevens, who had received a military education, but was not in the regular army."
It is not the purpose of this paper to follow the patriotic service of the First Oregon Cavalry during the long and wearisome months and years during which they labored in heat and cold, in storm and sunshine, under pioneer and frontier hardships, in chastising the hostile Indians, guarding the immigrant caravans, or holding in check the forces of disunion and secession. That there was need of them, for all these high and patriotic duties, there is no doubt.
As early as shortly after Lincoln's election in 1860, Senator Gwin, of California, with the undoubted knowledge and coöperation of Joseph Lane, of Oregon, formulated a plan for a slave-holding republic on the Pacific coast, with an aristocracy similar to the old Republic of Venice, vesting all power in a hereditary nobility, with an executive elected from themselves.
Should the Southern States succeed in withdrawing from the Union and setting up a Southern Confederacy without war, then with a continuous line of slave territory from Texas to the Pacific, the Pacific coast should combine with the South; but if war ensued between the North and South, then the coast should be captured, and the Venetian Republic be inaugurated separately, and slaves imported from the Isles of the Sea.
Bancroft, the historian, asserts that but for the strong restraining advice of Jesse Applegate and the overwhelming sentiment against him on his return, there is no doubt but what General Lane would have embarked in the enterprise, and that the boxes of arms and ammunition which accompanied his return were intended for that purpose. In 1862 it became known all through the Pacific coast that an oath bound secret organization of confederate sympathizers were holding almost nightly meetings at many places; and self-appointed Union detectives, from points of vantage could hear the tread of martial feet and the hoarse notes of command.
High authority has asserted that Gwin of California, Lane of Oregon, and a man named Tilden of Washington, were the instigators and advisors of this second movement to steal the Pacific coast from the Federal Union and hold it for the forces of disunion and secession. They chose for a title the quaint and striking name of "Knights of the Golden Circle."
One of the best posted historical authorities on the Pacific coast told me a few days ago that he had in his possession cipher documents of that strange disloyal order, which some day experts should decipher and give to the world, but as yet it was too early for history to record anything but the things that were notorious. The same authority told me of how one night in San Francisco, eight hundred Knights of the Golden Circle, armed to the teeth, had met to make the initial outbreak, capture the Benicia Arsenal and arm all rebel sympathizers of San Francisco therefrom and carry out the long cherished plan of seizing the Pacific coast for disunion.
At the last moment realizing the awful, momentous responsibility of their projected attack they clamored for a leader whom they could follow as one man. In a moment one name was on every lip, an old hero of the Vigilante days—in haste he was sent for (he was not a member of their order) and their plan revealed to one whom they thought disloyal like themselves, but they had reckoned without their man—he was as loyal as the sturdy patriots who fell at Bunker Hill, fighting the earlier battle of freedom with bare hands and clubbed muskets.
Knowing that by a brief delay only could he lull them to security, and at the same time save the day for the old flag, he asked until 9 o'clock the next morning to give his answer, they to remain where they were until his answer should be returned. Taking this as a practical assent, and that he only went to arrange his private affairs, the balance of the night wore on; but the old Vigilante was not idle; calling together as many of the old Vigilante Committee as were available and of known loyalty, he unfolded the treason that was lurking in the city's midst, and as they were swift to act in the days of '49, so were they now; the loyalty of the commandant at the Benicia Arsenal being questioned, he was promptly replaced by one of true and tried steel, and loyalists were armed and ready in more than one secret place in the city midst if needed and then at 9 o'clock as agreed the answer went to the waiting Knights of the Golden Circle that the old Vigilante could not be their leader.
Thus all up and down the Pacific coast there was work to be done by the troops at home in guarding against the spirit of disloyalty which fostered by the early reserves of the Union arms was dangerous and threatening.
The situation of Oregon at this time was one of peculiar danger. Both England and France were in open sympathy with the states in revolt. The French Government were setting up an empire in Mexico. England was causing trouble over the disputed boundary at the entrance to Puget Sound. Not a single fort or coast or river defense existed in either Oregon or Washington, and at any time these hostile foreign powers might combine with the Indians as they had done in earlier wars and with the disloyal and disaffected within. Separated by such vast reaches of country from the loyal states of the Union nothing of assistance could be expected from them in case of trouble, in time to be effective and hence it was that for upwards of three years, not merely the peace and security of Oregon but its permanency as a part of the Federal Union depended on the First Cavalry.
The War Governor, Addison C. Gibbs, a strong and patriotic man, organized a valuable addition to the military forces of the State in a state militia, whose chief duty was to hold in check the Knights of the Golden Circle, to which it was a direct antithesis.
At the second election of President Lincoln it was a known fact that the Knights had their arms cached in the neighborhood of the leading polling places, and intended to carry the election by force of arms. This was only prevented by the militia who were superior in numbers and who adopted similar tactics which proved effective.
One shudders at the fratricidal bloodshed and awful guerilla warfare that would have come to pass in this mountainous and thinly settled country had the first outbreak happened and the torch of rebellion been lighted. That it did not so come to pass was another evidence of the mysterious workings of Divine Providence.
In 1864 Governor Gibbs called for ten companies to be known as the First Oregon Infantry, each company to consist of eighty-two privates, maximum, or sixty-four minimum, besides officers. Eight companies were ultimately enlisted, and at first were chiefly employed in garrison duty throughout the Northwest, but later performed gallant service in the Indian wars that were ever in progress.
I wish that it were possible within the necessary limits of this article to write down some of the many deeds of matchless heroism wrought by the loyal men of the Northwest in the dark days of the war—deeds fit to rank with the gallantry of Sheridan's dashing troopers, with the glorious achievements of Sherman's March to the Sea, with the steadfastness of the iron phalanxes of the immortal Grant. But we can at least pay our tribute of praise to those rude frontiersmen of the Pacific, who loved their country, their country's flag, and the cause of freedom,—who fulfilled, without murmur, the self-sacrificing duty placed upon them by the martyr President, who wrought out in blood and fire the destiny of the Northwest, and whose only reward has been the sense of duty done. Of each of them the beautiful words of Tennyson are peculiarly appropriate:
"Not once or twice in our rough island story
The path of duty was the way to glory:
He that walks it, only thirsting
For the right, and learns to deaden
Love of self, before his journey closes,
He shall find the stubborn thistle bursting
Into glossy purples, which outredden
All voluptuous garden roses.
Not once or twice in our fair island's story
The path of duty was the way to glory:
He that ever following her commands,
On with toil of heart and knees and hands,
Thro' the long gorge to the far light has won
His path upward, and prevailed,
Shall find the toppling crags of Duty scaled
Are close upon the shining table-lands
To which our God himself is moon and sun.
Such was he, his work is done.
But while the races of mankind endure
Let his great example stand
Colossal, seen of every land,
And keep the soldier firm, the statesman pure:
Till in all lands and thro' all human story
The path of duty be the way to glory."
- ↑ An address delivered before the University of Oregon, May 20, 1903.