A Century of Dishonor/Chapter A1
APPENDIX.
I.
THE SAND CREEK MASSACRE.
The following letters were printed in the New York Tribune in the winter of 1879. They are of interest, not only as giving a minute account of one of the most atrocious massacres ever perpetrated, but also as showing the sense of justice which is to be found in the frontiersman's mind to-day. That men, exasperated by atrocities and outrages, should have avenged themselves with hot haste and cruelty was, perhaps, only human but that men should be found, fifteen years later, apologizing for, nay, justifying the cruel deed, is indeed a matter of marvel.
LETTER I.
In June, 1864, Governor Evans, of Colorado, sent out a circular to the Indians of the Plains, inviting all friendly Indians to come into the neighborhood of the forts, and be protected by the United States troops. Hostilities and depredations had been committed by some bands of Indians, and the Government was about to make war upon them. This circular says:
“In some instances they (the Indians) have attacked and killed soldiers, and murdered peaceable citizens. For this the Great Father is angry, and will certainly hunt them out and punish them; but he does not want to injure those who remain friendly to the whites. He desires to protect and take care of them. For this purpose I direct that all friendly Indians keep away from those who are at war, and go to places of safety. Friendly Arapahoes and Cheyennes belonging on the Arkansas River will go to Major Colby, United States Agent at Fort Lyon, who will give them provisions and show them a place of safety.”
In consequence of this proclamation of the governor, a band of Cheyennes, several hundred in number, come in and settled down near Fort Lyon. After a time they were requested to move to Sand Creek, about forty miles from Fort Lyon, where they were still guaranteed “perfect safety” and the protection of the Government. Rations of food were issued to them from time to time. On the 27th of November, Colonel J. M. Chivington, a member of the Methodist Episcopal Church in Denver, and Colonel of the First Colorado Cavalry, led his regiment by a forced march to Fort Lyon, induced some of the United States troops to join him, and fell upon this camp of friendly Indians at daybreak. The chief, White Antelope, always known as friendly to the whites, came running toward the soldiers, holding up his hands and crying “Stop! stop!” in English. When he saw that there was no mistake, that it was a deliberate attack, he folded his arms and waited till he was shot down. The United States flag was floating over the lodge of Black Kettle, the head chief of the tribe; below it was tied also a small white flag as additional security—a precaution Black Kettle had been advised by United States officers to take if he met troops on the Plains. In Major Wynkoop's testimony, given before the committee appointed by Congress to investigate this massacre, is the following passage:
“Women and children were killed and scalped, children shot at their mothers' breasts, and all the bodies mutilated in the most horrible manner. * * * The dead bodies of females profaned in such a manner that the recital is sickening, Colonel J. M. Chivington all the time inciting his troops to their diabolical outrages.”
Another man testified as to what be saw on the 30th of November, three days after the battle, as follows:
“I saw a man dismount from his horse and cut the ear from the body of an Indian, and the scalp from the head of another. I saw a number of children killed; they had bullet-holes in them; one child had been cut with some sharp instrument across its side. I saw another that both ears had been cut off. * * * I saw several of the Third Regiment cut off fingers to get the rings off them. I saw Major Sayre scalp a dead Indian. The scalp had a long tail of silver hanging to it.”
Robert Bert testified:
“I saw one squaw lying on the bank, whose leg had been broken. A soldier came up to her with a drawn sabre. She raised her arm to protect herself; he struck, breaking her arm. She rolled over, and raised her other arm; he struck, breaking that, and then left her without killing her. I saw one squaw cut open, with an unborn child lying by her side.”
Major Anthony testified:
“There was one little child, probably three years old, just big enough to walk through the sand. The Indians had gone ahead, and this little child was behind, following after them. The little fellow was perfectly naked, travelling in the sand. I saw one man get off his horse at a distance of about seventy-five yards and draw up his rifle and fire. He missed the child. Another man came up and said, ‘Let me try the son of a b—. I can hit him.’ He got down off his horse, kneeled down, and fired at the little child, but he missed him. A third man came up, and made a similar remark, and fired, and the little fellow dropped.”
The Indians were not able to make much resistance, as only a part of them were armed, the United States officers having required them to give up their guns. Luckily they had kept a few.
When this Colorado regiment of demons returned to Denver they were greeted with an ovation. The Denver News said: “All acquitted themselves well. Colorado soldiers have again covered themselves with glory;” and at a theatrical performance given in the city, these scalps taken from Indians were held up and exhibited to the audience, which applauded rapturously.
After listening, day after day, to such testimonies as these I have quoted, and others so much worse that I may not write and The Tribune could not print the words needful to tell them, the committee reported: “It is difficult to believe that beings in the form of men, and disgracing the uniform of United States soldiers and officers, could commit or countenance the commission of such acts of cruelty and barbarity;” and of Colonel Chivington: “He deliberately planned and executed a foul and dastardly massacre, which would have disgraced the veriest savage among those who were the victims of his cruelty.”
This was just fifteen years ago, no more. Shall we apply the same rule of judgment to the white men of Colorado that the Government is now applying to the Utes? There are 130,000 inhabitants of Colorado; hundreds of them had a hand in this massacre, and thousands in cool blood applauded it when it was done. There are 4000 Utes in Colorado. Twelve of them, desperate, guilty men, have committed murder and rape, and three or four hundred of them did, in the convenient phrase of our diplomacy, “go to war against the Government;” i. e., they attempted, by force of arms, to restrain the entrance upon their own lands—lands bought, owned and paid for—of soldiers that the Government had sent there, to be ready to make war upon them, in case the agent thought it best to do so! This is the plain English of it. This is the plain, naked truth of it.
And now the Secretary of the Interior has stopped the issue of rations to 1000 of these helpless creatures; rations, be it understood, which are not, and never were, a charity, but are the Utes’ rightful dues, on account of lands by them sold; dues which the Government promised to pay “annually forever.” Will the American people justify this? There is such a thing as the conscience of a nation—as a nation’s sense of justice. Can it not be roused to speak now? Shall we sit still, warm and well fed, in our homes, while five hundred women and little children are being slowly starved in the bleak, barren wildernesses of Colorado? Starved, not because storm, or blight, or drouth has visited their country and cut off their crops; not because pestilence has laid its hand on them and slain the hunters who brought them meat, but because it lies within the promise of one man, by one word, to deprive them of one-half their necessary food for as long a term of years as he may please; and “the Secretary of the Interior cannot consistently feed a tribe that has gone to war against the Government.”
We read in the statutes of the United States that certain things may be done by “executive order” of the President. Is it not time for a President to interfere when hundreds of women and children are being starved in his Republic by the order of one man? Colonel J. M. Chiyington’s method was less inhuman by far. To be shot dead is a mercy, and a grace for which we would all sue, if to be starved to death were our only other alternative.
H. H.
New York, Jan. 31st, 1890.
This letter drew from the former editor of the Rocky Mountain News, a Denver newspaper, the following reply:
LETTER II.
To the Editor of the Tribune:
Sir,—In your edition of yesterday appears an article, under the above caption, which arraigns the people of Colorado as a community of barbarous murderers, and finally elevates them above the present Secretary of the Interior, thereby placing the latter gentleman in a most unenviable light if the charges averred be true. The “Sand Creek Massacre” of 1864 is made the text and burden of the article; its application is to the present condition of the White River band of Utes in Colorado. Quotations are given from the testimony gathered, and the report made thereon by a committee of Congress charged with a so-called investigation of the Sand Creek affair. That investigation was made for a certain selfish purpose. It was to break down and ruin certain men. Evidence was taken upon one side only. It was largely false, and infamously partial. There was no answer for the defence.
The Cheyenne and Arapahoe Indians assembled at Sand Creek were not under the protection of a United States fort. A few of them had been encamped about Fort Lyon and drawing supplies therefrom, but they had gradually disappeared and joined the main camp on Dry Sandy, forty miles from the fort, separated from it by a waterless desert, and entirely beyond the limit of its control or observation. While some of the occupants were still, no doubt, occasional visitors at the fort, and applicants for sup-plies and ammunition, most of the warriors were engaged in raiding the great Platte River Road, seventy-five miles farther north, robbing and burning trains, stealing cattle and horses, robbing and destroying the United States mails, and killing white people. During the summer and fall they bad murdered over fifty of the citizens of Colorado. They had stolen and destroyed provisions and merchandise, and driven away stock worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. They had interrupted the mails, and for thirty-two consecutive days none were allowed to pass their lines, When satiated with murder and arson, and loaded with plunder, they would retire to their sacred refuge on Sand Creek to rest and refresh themselves, recruit their wasted supplies of ammunition from Fort Lyon—begged under the garb of gentle, peaceful savages—and then return to the road to relieve their tired comrades, and riot again in carnage and robbery. These are facts; and when the “robbers’ roost” was cleaned out, on that sad but glorious 27th day of November, 1864, they were sufficiently proven. Scalps of white men not yet dried; letters and photographs stolen from the mails; bills of lading and invoices of goods; bales and bolts of the goods themselves, addressed to merchants in Denver; half-worn clothing of white women and children, and many other articles of like character, were found in that poetical Indian camp, and recovered by the Colorado soldiers. They were brought to Denver, and those were the scalps exhibited in the theatre of that city. There was also an Indian saddle-blanket entirely fringed around the edges with white women’s scalps, with the long, fair hair attached. There was an Indian saddle over the pommel of which was stretched skin stripped from the body of a white woman. Is it any wonder that soldiers flushed with victory, after one of the hardest campaigns ever endured by men, should indulge—some of them—in unwarranted atrocities after finding such evidence of barbarism, and while more than forty of their comrades were weltering in their own blood upon the field?
If “H. H.” had been in Denver in the early part of that summer, when the bloated, festering bodies of the Hungate family—father, mother, and two babes—were drawn through the streets naked in an ox-wagon, cut, mutilated, and scalped—the work of those same red fiends who were so justly punished at Sand Creek; if, later, “H. H.” had seen an upright and most estimable business man so crazy over the news of his son’s being tortured to death a hundred miles down the Platte, as I did; if “H. H.” had seen one-half the Colorado homes made desolate that fateful season, and a tithe of the tears that were caused to flow, I think there would have been one little word of excuse for the people of Colorado—more than a doubtful comparison with an inefficient and culpable Indian policy. Bear in mind that Colorado had no railroads then. Her supplies reached her by only one road—along the Platte—in wagons drawn by oxen, mules, or horses. That line was in full possession of the enemy. Starvation stared us in the face. Hardly a party went or came without some persons being killed. In some instances whole trains were cut off and destroyed. Sand Creek saved Colorado, and taught the Indians the most salutary lesson they had ever learned. And now, after fifteen years, and here in the shadow of the Nation’s Capitol, with the spectre of “H. H.'s” condemnation staring me in the face, I am neither afraid nor ashamed to repeat the language then used by The Denver News: “All acquitted themselves well. Colorado soldiers have again covered themselves with glory.”
Thus much of history is gone over by “H. H.” to present in true dramatic form the deplorable condition of the White River Utes, 1000 in number, who are now suffering the pangs of hunger and the discomfort of cold in the wilds of Western Colorado, without any kind agent to issue rations, provide blankets, or build fires for them. It is really too bad. A painful dispensation of Providence has deprived them of their best friend, and they are desolate and bereaved. He placed his life and its best efforts, his unbounded enthusiasm for their good, his great Christian heart—all at their service. But an accident befell him, and he is no more. The coroner's jury that sat upon his remains found that his dead body had a barrel stave driven into his mouth, a log-chain around his neck, by which it had been dragged about like a dead hog, and sundry bullet-holes through his body. The presumption was that from the effect of some one of these accidents he died; and, alas! he is no longer to serve out weekly rations to his flock of gentle Utes. There is no sorrow over his death or the desolation it wrought, but there is pity, oceans of pity, for the Indians who are hungry and cold. True, at the time he died they took the flour, the pork, and salt, and coffee, and sugar, and tobacco, and blankets, and all the other supplies that he would have issued to them through all this long winter had he lived. With his care these would have lasted until spring, and been sufficient for their wants; but, without it, “H. H.” is suspicious that they are all gone, and yet it is but just past the middle of winter. Can “H. H.” tell why this is thus? It is also true that they drove away the large herd of cattle from the increase of which that same unfortunate agent and his predecessors had supplied them with beef for eleven years past, and yet the consumption did not keep pace with the natural increase. They took them all, and are presumed to have them now. True, again, they had at the beginning of winter, or at the period of the melancholy loss of their best friend, about 4000 horses that were rolling fat, and three acres of dogs—not bad food in an emergency, or for an Indian thanksgiving feast—some of which should still remain.
THE WHOLE WHITE RIVER BAND GUILTY.
But “H. H.” intimates that there is an alleged excuse for withholding rations from these poor, persecuted red angels, “Twelve” of them have been bad, and the tyrant at the head of the Interior Department is systematically starving all of the 1000 who constitute the band, and their 4000 horses, and 1800 cattle, and three acres of dogs, and six months’ supplies, because those twelve bad Indians cannot conscientiously pick themselves out and be offered up as a burnt-offering and a sacrifice to appease the wrath of an outraged and partly civilized nation. This is the present indictment, and the Secretary and the President are commanded to stand up and plead “Guilty or not guilty, but you know you are guilty, d—n you.” Now I challenge and defy “H.H.,” or any other person living, to pick out or name twelve White River male Utes, over sixteen years of age, who were not guilty, directly or indirectly, as principals or accomplices before the fact, in the Thoroburgh attack or in the Agency massacre. I know these Indians well enough to know that these attacks were perfectly understood and deliberately planned, I cannot be made to believe that a single one of them, of common-sense and intelligence, was ignorant of what was to take place, and that knowledge extended far beyond the White River band. There were plenty of recruits from both the Los Pinos and the Uintah bands. In withholding supplies from the White River Utes the Secretary of the Interior is simply obeying the law. He cannot, except upon his own personal responsibility, issue supplies to a hostile Indian tribe, and the country will hold him accountable for a departure from his line of duty. Inferentially the Indians are justified by “H. H.” in their attack upon Thornburgh’s command. Their object was to defend “their own lands—lands bought, owned, and paid for.” Bought of whom, pray? Paid for by whom? To whom was payment made? The soldiers were making no attack; they contemplated none. The agent had no authority to order an attack. He could not proclaim war. He could have no control whatever over the troops. But his life was in danger. The honor of his family was at stake. He asked for protection. “H. H.” says he had no right to it. His life and the honor of his aged wife and of his virgin daughter are gone, and “H. H.” is the champion of fiends who wrought the ruin.
Wm. N. Byers.
Washington, D. C., Feb. 6th, 1880.
The most fitting reply to the assertions in this extraordinary document was by still further citations from the sworn testimony given before the Congressional committees—evidence with which volumes could have been filled.
LETTER III
To the Editor of the Tribune:
Sir,—In reply to the letter in Sunday's Tribune, headed “The
Starving Utes,” I would like to place before the readers of The
Tribune some extracts from sworn testimony taken in Colorado
on the subject of the Sand Creek massacre. The writer of this
letter says:
“The Cheyenne and Arapahoe Indians assembled at Sand Creek were not under the protection of a United States fort.”
The following testimony is that of Lieutenant Craven, Senate Document, vol. ii., 1866-67, p. 46:
“I had some conversation with Major Downing, Lieutenant Maynard, and Colonel Chivington. I stated to them my feelings in regard to the matter—that I believed it to be murder—and stated the obligations that we of Major Wynkoop’s command were under to those Indians.
“To Colonel Chivington I know I stated that Major Wynkoop had pledged his word as an officer and man to those Indians, and that all officers under him were indirectly pledged in the same manner that he was, and that I felt that it was placing us in very embarrassing circumstances to fight the same Indians that had saved our lives, as we all felt that they had.
“Colonel Chivington’s reply was that he believed it to be right and honorable to use any means under God's heaven to kill Indians that would kill women and children; and, ‘damn any one that was in sympathy with Indians;’ and, ‘such men as Major Wynkoop and myself had better get out of the United States service.’”
This conversation was testified to by other witnesses. Major Wynkoop, it will be remembered, was the officer in command at Fort Lyon when this band of Cheyennes and Arapahoes came in there to claim protection, in consequence of the governor's proclamation, saying that,
“All friendly Arapahoes and Cheyennes, belonging on the Arkansas River, will go to Major Colby, United States Indian Agent at Fort Lyon, who will give them provisions and show them a place of safety.”
Major Wynkoop was suceeeded in the command of Fort Lyon by Major Anthony, who continued for a time to issue rations to these Inclians, as Major Wynkoop had done; but after a time he called them together and told them he could not feed them any longer; they would better go where they could hunt. He selected the place to which they were to move on Sandy Creek. They obeyed, and he gave back to them some of the arms which had been taken away. They were moved to Sandy Creek, about forty miles from Fort Lyon, partly “for fear of some conflict between them and the soldiers or emigrants,” Fort Lyon being on a thoroughfare of travel. One of the chiefs—One Eye—was hired by Major Anthony at $125 a month “to obtain information for the use of the military authorities. Several times he brought news to the fort of proposed movements of hostile Indians.” This chief was killed in the massacre.
This is the testimony of Captain Soule, First Colorado Cavalry:
“Did you protest against attacking those Indians?”
“I did.”
“Who was your commanding officer?”
“Major Anthony.”
“Did you inform Major Anthony of the relations existing with Black Kettle?”
“I did. He knew the relations. I frequently talked to him about it.”
“What answer did Major Anthony make to your protests?”
“He said that we were going to fight the hostile Indians at Smoky Hill. He also said that he was in for killing all Indians, and that he had only been acting friendly with them until he could get a force large enough to go out and kill all of them.”
This is the testimony of S. E. Brown:
“Colonel Chivington in a public speech said his policy was to kill and scalp all, little and big: nits made lice.”
Governor Hunt testified as follows: [Governor Hunt was one of the earliest settlers in Colorado. He was United States Marshal, Delegate to Congress, and afterward Governor of the Territory.]
“We have always regarded Black Kettle and White Antelope as the special friends of the white man ever since I have been in this country.”
“Do you know of any acts of hostility committed by them or with their consent?”
“No, sir, I do not.”
“Did you ever hear any acts of hostility attributed to them by any one?”
“No, sir.” * * *
The following extract is:
“The regiment, when they marched into Denver, exhibited Indian scalps.”
This is from the official report of Major Wynkoop, major commanding Fort Lyon.
“In conclusion, allow me to say that, from the time I held the consultation with the Indian chiefs on the head-waters of Smoky Hill up to the date of this massacre by Colonel Chivington, not one single depredation had been committed by the Cheyenne and Arapahoe Indians. The settlers of the Arkansas Valley had returned to their ranches, from which they had fled, had taken in their crops, and had been resting in perfect security under assurances from myself that they would be in no danger for the present. Since this last horrible murder by Colonel Chivington the country presents a scene of desolation. All communication is cut off with the States, except by sending large bodies of troops, and already over a hundred whites have fallen victims to the fearful vengeance of these betrayed Indians.”
January 15th, 1865.
The writer of this letter says, in regard to the investigation of the Sand Creek massacre by the Congressional committee, that “evidence was taken upon one side only,” and “there was no answer for the defence.”
A large part of the testimony is sworn evidence, given by the Governor of Colorado, by Colonel J. M. Chivington himself, who planned and executed the massacre, and by Major Anthony, who accompanied him with troops from Fort Lyon. The writer of this article says that “the investigation was made for a certain selfish purpose, * * * to break down and ruin certain men.”
The names of Senator Foster, Senator Doolittle, and “honest Ben Wade” are the best refutation of this statement. It will be hard to impeach the trustworthiness of reports signed by these names, and one of these reports says:
“It is difficult to believe that beings in the form of men, and disgracing the uniform of United States soldiers and officers, could commit or countenance the commission of such acts of cruelty and barbarity.”
Of Colonel Chivington, it says:
“He deliberately planned and executed a foul and dastardly massacre, which would have disgraced the veriest savage among those who were the victims of his cruelty.”
And of Major Anthony:
“The testimony of Major Anthony, who succeeded an officer disposed to treat these Indians with justice and humanity, is sufficient of itself to show how unprovoked and unwarranted was this massacre. He testifies that he found these Indians camped near Fort Lyon when he assumed command of that fort; that they professed their friendliness to the whites, and their willingness to do whatever he demanded of them; that they delivered their arms up to him; that they went to and encamped on the place designated by him; that they gave him information from time to time of acts of hostility which were meditated by other hostile bands, and in every way conducted themselves properly and peaceably; and yet he says it was fear and not principle which prevented his killing them while they were completely in his power; and, when Colonel Chivington appeared at Fort Lyon on his mission of murder and barbarity, Major Anthony made haste to accompany him with men and artillery.”
The writer of this letter says that the evidence given in this “so-called investigation” was “largely false and infamously partial.” If this were the case, why did not all persons so “infamously” slandered see to it that before the year ended their own version of the affair should reach, if not the general public, at least the Department of the Interior? Why did they leave it possible for the Secretary of the Interior to incorporate in his Annual Report for 1865—to be read by all the American people—these paragraphs?
“No official account has ever reached this office from its own proper sources of the most disastrous and shameful occurrence, the massacre of a large number of men, women, and children of the Indians of this agency (the Upper Arkansas) by the troops under the command of Colonel Chivington, of the United States Volunteer Cavalry of Colorado. * * *
“When several hundred of them had come into a place designated by Governor Evans as a rendezvous for those who would separate themselves from the hostile parties, these Indians were set upon and butchered in cold blood by troops in the service of the United States. The few who escaped to the northward told a story which effectually prevented any more advances toward peace by such of the bands as were well disposed.”
And why did the Government of the United States empower General Sanborn, in the Council held October 12th, 1865, with the Arapahoes and Cheyennes, including the remnants of bands that had escaped from the Sand Creek massacre, to formally and officially repudiate the action of the United States soldiers in that massacre? General Sanborn said, in this council:
“We all feel disgraced and ashamed when we see our officers or soldiers oppressing the weak, or making war on those who are at peace with us. * * * We are willing, as representatives of the President, to restore all the property lost at Sand Creek, or its value. * * * He has sent out his commissioners to make reparation, as far as we can. * * * So heartily do we repudiate the actions of our soldiers that we are willing to give to the chiefs in their own right 320 acres of land each, to hold as his own forever, and to each of the children and squaws who lost husbands or parents; we are also willing to give 160 acres of land as their own, to keep as long as they live.”
The writer of this letter, quoting the statement from a previous article in The Tribune, that the White River Utes, in their attack on Major Thornburgh’s command, fought “to defend their own lands—lands bought, owned, and paid for,” asks:
“Bought of whom, pray? Paid for by whom? To whom was payment made?”
“Bought” of the United States Government, thereby recognizing the United States Government's right to “the sovereignty of the soil” as superior to the Indians’ “right of occupancy.”
“Paid for” by the Ute Indians, by repeated “relinquishments” of said “right of occupancy” in large tracts of valuable lands; notably by the “relinquishment,” according to the Brunot Treaty of 1873, of 4,000,000 acres of valuable lands, “unquestionably rich in mineral deposits.”—Annual Report of the Secretary of the Interior for 1873, p. 464.
“To whom was payment made?”
To the United States Government, which has accepted and ratified such exchanges of “right of occupancy” for “right of sovereignty,” and such sales of “right of occupancy” for large sums of money by repeated and reiterated treaties.
The Secretary of the Interior has incorporated in his Annual Report for 1879 (in the report on Indian Affairs, p. 36[1]) the following paragraphs:
“Let it be fully understood that the Ute Indians have a good and sufficient title to 12,000,000 acres of land in Colorado, and that these Indians did not thrust themselves in the way of the white people, but that they were originally and rightfully possessors of the soil, and that the land they occupy has been acknowledged to be theirs by solemn treaties made with them by the United States.
“It will not do to say that a treaty with an Indian means nothing. It means even more than the pledge of the Government to pay a bond. It is the most solemn declaration that any government of any people ever enters into. Neither will it do to say that treaties never ought to have been made with Indians. That question is now not in order, as the treaties have been made, and must be lived up to whether convenient or otherwise.
“By beginning at the outset with the full acknowledgment of the absolute and indefeasible right of these Indians to 12,000,000 acres in Colorado, we can properly consider what is the best method of extinguishing the Indian title thereto without injustice to the Indians, and without violating the plighted faith of the Government of the United States.”
The writer of this letter says:
“In withholding supplies from the White River Utes, the Secretary of the Interior is simply obeying the law. He cannot, except upon his own personal responsibility, issue supplies to a hostile Indian tribe.”
Secretary Schurz has published, in the Annual Report of the Department of the Interior for 1879, the following paragraph in regard to this case of the White River Utes:[2]
“The atrocity of the crimes committed should not prevent those individuals who are innocent from being treated as such, according to Article 17 of the treaty, viz.: Provided, that if any chief of either of the confederated bands make war against the United States, or in any manner violate this treaty in any essential part, said chief shall forfeit his position as chief, and all rights to any of the benefits of this treaty; but, provided further, any Indian of either of these confederated bands who shall remain at peace, and abide by the terms of this treaty in all its essentials, shall be entitled to its benefits and provisions, notwithstanding his particular chief and band have forfeited their rights thereto.”
The writer of this letter says, in allusion to the murders and outrages committed by some of the White River Utes, that “H. H. is the champion of the fiends who wrought the ruin.” Have the readers of The Tribune so understood my protests against the injustice of punishing the innocent for the crimes of the guilty?
H. H.
New York, Feb, 22d, 1880.
This letter was followed by a card from Mr. Byers, reiterating some of his assertions; and by a second short letter, which closed the discussion.
To the Editor of the Tribune:
Sir,—I ask only a little space for reference to the communication
of “H. H.” in to-day’s Tribune. It is asked, “If the investigation
of the Sand Creek affair was so unfair, why did not the
people of Colorado correct the false impression by presenting
their own version of the case?” The answer is that the case was
prejudged, and we were denied a hearing in our defence.
The inference is conveyed in to-day’s article that Indian hostilities on the plains were provoked by and followed after the Sand Creek massacre. We, who were so unfortunate as to be citizens of Colorado at the time, know that a very great majority of the savage atrocities of that period occurred before the battle of Sand Creek. We know that the Sand Creek Indian camp was the common rendezvous of the hostile bands who were committing those atrocities. We know that comparatively few occurred afterward. No amount of special pleading, no reiteration of partial statements, and withholding of more important truths, will change the facts so well known to the earlier settlers of Colorado.
I deny that the Utes have either bought or paid for any land. They have relinquished for a consideration a certain portion of the land they formerly claimed, and still retain the other portion. I deny, also, that only twelve of the White River Utes are guilty and the great mass of them innocent. The contrary is the fact.
Wm. N. Byers.
New York, Feb. 24th, 1880.
To the Editor of the Tribune:
Sir,—In reply to the assertion that the perpetrators of the Sand
Creek massacre were “denied a hearing in their defence,” I wish
to state to the readers of The Tribune that, in addition to the
Congressional committees from whose reports I have already quoted,
there was appointed a Military Commission to investigate that
massacre. This commission sat seventy-three days, in Denver
and at Fort Lyon, Colonel J. M. Chivington called before it, in
his “defence,” all the witnesses he chose, and gave notice on the
seventy-third day of the commission’s sitting that he did not
“wish to introduce any more witnesses for the defence.” He
also had (and used) the privilege of cross-examining every
witness called by the commission. The evidence given before this
commission occupies over two hundred pages of Volume II., Senate
Documents for 1866-'67.
In reply to the assertion that “a great majority of the savage atrocities of that period occurred before” the massacre at Sand Creek, and that “comparatively few occurred after,” I will give to the readers of The Tribune one extract from the report of the Indian Peace Commission of 1868. Alluding to the Sand Creek massacre, the report says:
“It scarcely has its parallel in the records of Indian barbarity. Fleeing women, holding up their hands and praying for mercy, were shot down; infants were killed and scalped in derision; men were tortured and mutilated in a manner that would put to shame the savages of interior Africa. No one will be astonished that a war ensued which cost the Government $30,000,000, and carried conflagration and death into the border settlements. During the spring and summer of 1865 no less than 8000 troops were withdrawn from the effective forces engaged in the Rebellion to meet this Indian war.”
The Commissioners who made this report were N. J. Taylor, President; J. B. Henderson, John B. Sanborn, William T. Sherman, Lieutenant-general; William S. Harvey, Brevet Major-general; Alfred H. Terry, Brevet Major-general; C. C. Augur, Brevet Major-general; S. F. Tappan.
Tn reply to the assertion that the Utes have not “either bought or paid for any land,” I will ask such of The Tribune readers as are interested in the subject to read the “Brunot Treaty,” made September 13th, 1873, “between Felix R. Brunot, Commissioner for the United States, and the chiefs, headmen, and men” of the seven confederated bands of Utes. It is to be found in the report of the Department of the Interior for 1873, p. 454.
In conclusion of the discussion as to the Sand Creek massacre, I will relate one more incident of thet terrible day, It has not been recorded in any of the reports. It was told in Colorado, to one of the members of the Senate Committee at the time of their investigation: One of the squaws had escaped from the village, and was crouching behind some low sage brush. A frightened horse came running toward her hiding-place, its owner in hot pursuit. Seeing that the horse was making directly for her shelter, and that she would inevitably be seen, and thinking that possibly if she caught the horse, and gave him back to the owner, she might thus save her life, she ran after the horse, caught it, and stood holding it till the soldier came up. Remembering that with her blanket rolled tight around her she might possibly be taken for a man, as she put into the soldier's hand the horse's bridle, with the other hand she threw open her blanket enough to show her bosom, that he might see that she was a woman. He put the muzzle of his pistol between her breasts and shot her dead; and afterward was “not ashamed” to boast of the act. It was by such deeds as this that “the Colorado soldiers acquitted themselves well, and covered themselves with glory.”H. H.
New York, Feb, 28th, 1880.
- ↑ Wikisource Note: https://books.google.com/books?id=DNcRAAAAYAAJ&pg=PR36
- ↑ Wikisource Note: Annual Report of the Commissioner of Indian Affairs for 1879, p. 35: https://books.google.com/books?id=DNcRAAAAYAAJ&pg=PR35