Copyright 1913, by FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY

CHAPTER 29

END OF THE MORMON WAR

THE little federal army was formidable in outward seeming; but in reality, it was helpless as the babes in the wood. At close quarters, it could have crushed several times its number of Mormon or any other militia -- but it could not get to close quarters. There were two infantry regiments, the Fifth and the Tenth, and two batteries. But there was no cavalry, and cavalry was the one arm imperatively needed. The Second Dragoons had been assigned to this expedition, but were held back, owing to troubles in Kansas. Almost as bad as this misjudgment was the series of changes in command of the army. General Harney was first scheduled for this post, but, like the horsemen, was retained to deal with Free-soilers and Border Ruffians. The man appointed as Harney's successor died before he could assume command. Finally, Colonel Albert Sidney Johnston was put at the head of the expedition. No better man could have been found for the task, but he came too late to save the force from the humiliations prepared for it.

The slow-creeping infantry regiments with their huge supply trains sprawled across hill arid plain were a standing invitation to attack; and at last the invitation was accepted. As soon as he had received Colonel Alexander's reply to Brigham, Daniel H. Wells, commander of the Mormon forces, issued his orders. His mounted scouting parties were to burn the grass in front of the advancing soldiers, cut off their supplies, steal their cattle, burn their wagons, and keep them from sleeping. One strong injunction was laid on the Mormon militia in carrying out these orders. They were not to take life if they could by any means avoid it. This was a measure, less of humanity than of foresight. With all his raving and ranting in the pulpit, Brigham knew that negotiation, rather than fighting, must bring him through this crisis, and he wanted no bloodshed to make slippery the steps of diplomacy.

The Mormon plans were absurdly easy to put into effect. Lot Smith, with forty-four men, was first among the Saints to spoil the Gentiles. On October 4, 1857, Smith came upon an unarmed supply train, and ordered the commander of it to turn round, and go east till he reached the States. The captain obeyed as long as the Mormons were in sight, then headed for the West again. At this, Smith returned, unloaded the wagons, left the drivers to their own devices, and divided his little force for further raiding. Twenty men were sent to stampede the mules of one of the regiments. The rest, under Smith, performed an exploit of which Mormon writers are still boasting. At midnight of October 5, they held up -- there is no other word for it -- another supply train consisting of seventy-five wagons, and burned them all. These wagons were loaded with bacon, ham, coffee, flour, hard-tack, and desiccated vegetables; and their loss was an expensive mishap for the government. The next day, Smith burned some more wagons about twenty miles away.

Colonel Alexander was helpless. Well mounted, and knowing the country as if it were their dooryard, the Mormons had the federal infantry netted. Alexander had no instructions as to the government's wishes, and he does not seem to have been a man who could go ahead and take his chances without instructions. He called a council of war, at which it was decided to turn northward, avoiding the canons which were known to be fortified, and trying to reach the Salt Lake valley by a side door. It might have been a good plan for a cavalry force in June; but for a heavy, slow-moving, overloaded expedition, on the very edge of winter, it was a scheme of destruction. Trails had to be cut through the heavy brush, the endless wagon trains had to receive some sort of protection; and the march was so slow that often the advance guard was making camp for the night before the rearmost wagons had begun to move. Mormon scouts hung on the flanks of the floundering column, and one night cut out eight hundred oxen, which were driven in triumph to Salt Lake City. Alexander mounted some infantry on mules; but the Mormons only laughed at the "jackass cavalry"; and continued their depredations unchecked. After persisting for nine days and covering only thirty-five miles, Colonel Alexander called a new council of war, turned back to the south, and made for Fort Bridger.

He reached that place November 2, 1857, to find that the Mormons had burned all the buildings, all the wood, and all the trees that would take fire. The next day Colonel Johnston arrived, after a march which gave the troops a foretaste of winter campaigning in the Rocky Mountains. The presence of this able commander quickly restored the morale of the force, but the passes were already blocked with snow, the army was nearly destitute of horses, and there was nothing to do but go into winter quarters. Accordingly, Camp Scott was laid out near the ruins of Fort Bridger, one hundred and fifteen miles from Salt Lake City, and the troops soon made themselves fairly comfortable. It was November 19 before the cavalry joined them, bringing the new governor in their train. These troops had had a terrific struggle with storms, and the journal of their commander, Colonel Philip St. George Cooke, reads more like the story of an expedition in Siberia than the record of a military advance in the soldier's own country.

This was the crisis of the "war." The only honorable course, the only safe course for the government, was to finish the task it had begun, no matter what the cost in treasure or suffering. The nation had been flouted and defied, its property destroyed or carried off as plunder, its troops resisted, its officials denied access to its own territory. To draw back at this time was to offer direct encouragement to rebellion, to announce in plain terms that any one might defy federal authority with safety, provided the defiance were couched in loud enough tones. On the other hand, a prompt and uncompromising suppression of the Utah outbreak would have strengthened the hands of the national government in any future stress, and would have done something, at least, to lessen the growing popularity of secession.

Unfortunately, President Buchanan was not the man to strike strong blows in a brave cause. He understood the situation perfectly. He spoke of the need so to assert federal authority that this first rebellion should likewise be the last. He sent a message to Congress, explaining his action in sending an armed force to the Rocky Mountains, and demanding support, which was rather grudgingly given. Troops were ordered to prepare for the front, General Scott was instructed to sail for California, and dispatch a force to Utah from that direction. There was brave talk of a decisive advance in the spring. But it was only talk. Even while the President was writing his message, Brigham was undermining his purpose, stealing away his confidence, and preparing for him a cup of unmixed humiliation.*

[* The President's letters were dated December 3, 1857. His message was sent to Congress December 8.]

It is hardly necessary to say that Brigham's agent in the negotiations now begun was Colonel Thomas L. Kane. Kane alone had the duplicity, the diplomacy, the social standing, and the absolute devotion to the Mormon cause which were required to bring the kingdom through this crisis without disaster. Kane had vouched for Brigham's purity and patriotism to President Fillmore. President Buchanan now paid this official debt by vouching for Kane. He wrote letters, describing the wily colonel as an unselfish philanthropist, who was about to visit Utah from a stern sense of duty, and commending him to all federal officials whom he might meet. With these documents in his pocket, Kane sailed for San Francisco in January, 1858, under the name of "Dr. Osborne," and from California made his way to Salt Lake City. There he had an extended conference with the Twelve, and a short but absolutely private one with Brigham. This over, after a short rest, Kane set out for Camp Scott, to meet Alfred Cumming, the new governor of Utah.

Cumming was a good-natured, bustling individual; pompous without being dignified and intelligent without being sensible. He was exactly the sort of man to be wrapped around the finger of a skilled diplomat, and doubtless his character was considered in shaping the Mormon plot. Kane's mission in Camp Scott was twofold. First, he was to stir up trouble between Governor Cumming and General Johnston, so that hearty co-operation between them should be impossible. Next, he was to persuade Cumming to trust to the "loyalty" of the Mormons, whom Kane represented as willing to accept any governor the President might send, but who feared persecution from the troops. If the governor would first show his confidence in the Mormons, then Brigham, without too obvious a backdown, might consent to take the governor's word for it that the troops would be put to no tyrannical uses; and it was even possible that representations from Governor Cumming might secure the recall of the army altogether.

Kane performed his work with a smooth assurance which baffles comprehension now as it baffled interference then. He reached Camp Scott March 10. Within forty-eight hours he had established an understanding with Governor Cumming, and picked a quarrel -- not too serious a one -- with General Johnston. From that time forward, events in camp moved with the regularity of a text-book game of chess. April 3 -- just twenty-four days after Kane's arrival -- Cumming announced that he was going to Salt Lake City without waiting for the troops, and intimated his confidence that he could bring the dispute to a satisfactory ending.

Two days later, the governor started -- of course in company with Kane. The Mormons provided a "guard of honor" for the official whom they had kept cooling his heels in a winter camp for five months -- and Cumming accepted the attention. Mormon talent for amateur dramatics never showed to better advantage than in this journey and the events immediately following it. Echo canon had been provided with the usual style of militia fortifications; walls and rocks and ditches; things which look impregnable to the unprofessional eye, but which disciplined troops are accustomed to take to pieces with neatness and dispatch. It was desired to give Cumming the impression that this canon was garrisoned in force, and the trip through it was made by night. Fires were built at various points to give the impression of a large army -- an old trick, but one which still works. Every little distance the governor was challenged by a group of Argus-eyed sentries. It was the same group each time; for while he was being taken aside and quizzed, and Kane was whispering the countersign in the most approved style of a comic-opera conspirator's chorus, the hard-working sentinels would hasten ahead, and get ready to challenge the incoming Gentile again. Probably there were less than two hundred men in the canon, but to the governor they seemed at least as many thousands.

Cumming arrived at Salt Lake City April 12, 1858, and was taken to the home of a prominent Mormon elder. Brigham at once called on the Gentile governor, and delivered to him the territorial seal. The plot was working beautifully. Three days after his arrival, Gumming wrote a self-congratulatory letter to Johnston, but made no mention of a forward move of troops. His second Sunday in Salt Lake City, Governor Cumming was asked to speak in the Tabernacle, where another bit of theatricals had been arranged for his benefit. The governor made a most conciliatory -- not to say abject speech; but as soon as he stopped, a large number of the audience began to berate and abuse him, calling him an office-seeker and -- worst insult in Mormon vocabulary -- a Missourian. They harangued each other in fiery phrases on the wickedness of the federal government, and the sufferings of Zion in the past; and testified to their readiness to fight for their rights and their religion. Over all presided Brigham, soothing the tumult with a word when it grew too loud, deprecating the grossness of his people's language, and generally showing himself master of the situation. The obvious result of this performance was to convince Cumming that no one could govern Utah without the aid of Brigham Young.*

[* Linn and other writers speak of this performance in the Tabernacle as designed by Brigham to show his flock that he was not surrendering. Just why he needed such a demonstration at this time, or how the Tabernacle meeting could have provided one if he did need it, the present writers are unable to see. It was the governor who needed impressing on this occasion, not the people; and a better way of showing Cumming what would happen to him if he quarrelled with Brigham is not easy to not easy to imagine.]

Thus far, the scheme had worked admirably, but the kingdom and especially the chiefs of the kingdom were not yet out of danger. The federal force was not composed entirely of Alfred Cummings. Judge D. R. Eckles, new chief justice of the territory, had called a grand jury at Camp Scott during the winter, and this inquisitorial body had indicted Brigham Young for treason. Similar true bills were found against Heber C. Kimball, General Wells, "Port" Rockwell, "Bill" Hickman, and a number of others.

Such indictments were embarassing to the Saints, the more so since judge Eckles was standing on his dignity and refusing to enter Salt Lake City till the flag of his country was flying there. General Johnston, too, was contumacious; he plainly had no faith in the patriotism, loyalty, or good intentions in any way of Brigham and his aids; and at this time, General Johnston was still free to use his troops in support of the judge, without asking consent of the governor.

Under such circumstances, the natural strategy would be for Young and his fellows in trouble to keep out of the way until representations could be made at Washington which would get them a pardon, or until the troops could be recalled. But Brigham had no notion of playing the part of a lone fugitive, nor of pleading for mercy from the government he had insulted and defied.

Whatever one may think of his general character, however one may reprobate his undisguised treason, the candid student must admit that Brigham's nerve and daring at this juncture approach the sublime. Instead of drawing his stake and quitting the game, now that fate had favoured him for the moment, he pushed his winnings back on the board to play for all or nothing. He had captured the Gentile governor without a fight. Very well; he would now disarm the federal judiciary and tie the hands of the federal commander; or he would carry out his threat to make the valley a desert.

Practically the whole population of Salt Lake City and the northern settlements deserted their homes at Brigham's counsel, and moved southward to camp by the shores of Utah lake. They took with them arms and provisions, and such household furniture as could be of use in camp life; but their heavier property was left behind. Each man on leaving his house fixed it so as to burn as rapidly as possible. Shavings and kindling were placed handy, and a squad of determined men were assigned to the task of applying the torch when Brigham should give the word.

It was a deliberate and superb defiance; but it was never carried out. Had President Buchanan owned a tithe of Brigham's daring stubbornness, there would be no Mormon problem in America today, and the history of the Civil War might have read somewhat differently. Even while Governor Cumming was being treated to carefully arranged theatricals in Echo canyon President Buchanan was making a practical surrender of federal authority over Utah.

April 6, 1858 -- on the anniversary of the founding of the church -- he issued a proclamation on Utah affairs. After a blustering prelude which merely emphasized the weakness of the document, the President continued:

"Being anxious to save the effusion of blood, and to avoid the indiscriminate punishment of a whole people for crimes of which it is not probable that all are equally guilty, I offer now a free and full pardon to all who will submit themselves to the just authority of the federal government."

Senator-elect L. W. Powell of Kentucky and Major Ben McCullough, a Texas veteran of the Mexican war, were appointed peace commission to carry this amnesty to the Mormons, and "bring those misguided people to their senses." These commissioners reached Salt Lake City June 7, 1858. Four days later, they held a conference in the Tabernacle with Brigham and his aids, who had come back from their camp on Utah lake for this purpose. A considerable number of their followers had accompanied them, and with these and the population remaining in the city, the building was crowded. While the conference as in progress, "Port" Rockwell rode up to the building on a foaming horse, and entering, informed Brigham that the troops were marching toward the city. Brigham stepped to the front of the platform and called out:

"Is Brother Dunbar present?"

"Brother Dunbar, sing Zion!"

"Zion" was the chief military hymn, the Marillaise, of the Mormons, if the bones of Rouget de isle do not resent the comparison. Brother Dunbar immediately led off in the hymn, and the whole congregation joined in singing:

"Here our voices we'll raise and we'll sing to thy praise,
Sacred home of the prophets of God;
Thy deliverance is nigh,
Thy oppressors shall die
And the Gentiles shall bow 'neath thy rod!"

Tullidge, pro-Mormon historian, is kind enough to plain that this lapse into poetry meant: "Stop that army or our peace conference is ended!" The army could not be stopped, for it had not yet started; Major McCullough of the peace commission remained quite impressed; but the singing and the subsequent harangues were not without their value. They enabled Brigham to consent to the presence of the Soldiers without seeming to back down, and that was the only difficulty remaining. President Buchanan had conceded everything else. The next day, June 12, Brigham delivered another harangue. He denied that the Mormons had done anything which required the President's pardon, except, perhaps, to burn a few wagon trains. This was a justifiable act under the circumstances; but if the President wanted to pardon them for it, he was welcome to do so. Warming to his subject, Brigham went on:

"We have the God of Israel -- the God of battles -- on our side; and let me tell you, gentlemen, we fear not your armies. I can take a few of the boys here, and with the help of the Lord, can whip the whole United States. . . The United States are going to destruction as fast as they can go. If you do not believe it, gentlemen, you will soon see it to your sorrow. It will be with them like a broken potsherd. Yes, it will be like water spilled on the ground no more to be picked up.

"Now, let me say to you peace commissioners, we are willing those troops should come into our country, but not to stay in our city. They may pass through, if needs be, but they must not us!"

The commissioners were there under express orders to make peace, not to punish impudence; therefore this statement was all they required. The "war" was practically over.

Meanwhile, General Johnston had been waiting the arrival of horses and supplies, not for the report of the peace commissioners. These reached him sooner than he expected, and on June 13, 1858, he broke camp, and began the march to Salt Lake City. It is a fair inference that this clear-headed, soldierly man hoped against hope that he might come into some collision with the Nauvoo Legion which would justify him in putting his soldiers to work; but if so, he was disappointed. On June 14, word of the "peace" reached him. He sent ahead a dignified statement, that no citizen of Utah who obeyed the laws had anything to fear from the federal soldiery. On June 26, he entered Salt Lake City. It was like a city of the dead. Not a flag waved from any public building, not a citizen was out of doors, not a window was open. Mrs. Cumming, wife of the governor, was literally the only woman in the city. The troops marched in perfect order through the town, and camped on the Jordan, still within the city limits. After a couple of days in this camp, they moved west and south, and on July 6, formed Camp Floyd in Cedar Valley, at almost the prescribed distance of forty miles from Salt Lake City.

Thus closed the "Mormon war"; in unmitigated humiliation for the federal government, in almost unmixed triumph for the Mormon kingdom. Brigham Young and Colonel Kane had tricked, outwitted, and brought to naught the overwhelming might of the United States. There are few more astonishing and fewer more disgraceful chapters in our history. A clique of polygamous priests, holding despotic sway over a handful of people, were allowed to insult, defy, and make war upon the nation; and then, without retracting their insults, without apologizing for their rebellion, without being beaten or punished in any way, they were given a pardon which they contemptuously denied needing, and left in complete -- though informal -- mastery of one of the most important territories in the United States.

The daring, the adroitness, the resourcefulness of Brigham and of Bane, and the unreckoning devotion of the Mormon people are worthy of all praise; but the weakness and inefficiency of the federal administration can scarcely receive too great a measure of contempt.

For the Mormon war, as even Buchanan recognized, was the knock of opportunity at the gate of the federal union. Here was the chance, at little comparative cost of life and treasure, to assert the supreme authority of the nation, to rouse the latent Americanism in every community where national sentiment was yielding before the propaganda of secession. Had Buchanan dealt with rebellion in Utah as President Cleveland dealt with anarchy in Chicago, the rally of national feeling might have begun three years before it was waked at Fort Sumter. No single administration, perhaps no succession of administrations could have averted the Civil War altogether. But a very slight shift of sentiment would have kept Virginia in the Union; and had Robert E. Lee and "Stonewall" Jackson stayed with their state instead of going out with her, there would have been a different tale to tell of the days of '61.