Flies in a Bottle of Brandy

Around last Thanksgiving, I wrote here about my relative Silas Soule. In case you missed last year’s post, here’s a quick refresher. Captain Silas Soule was descended (and so am I) from George Soule, who came over on the Mayflower. The Soule family moved from Maine to Kansas in the late 1850s, and became one … Continue reading Flies in a Bottle of Brandy

Around last Thanksgiving, I wrote here about my relative Silas Soule. In case you missed last year’s post, here’s a quick refresher. Captain Silas Soule was descended (and so am I) from George Soule, who came over on the Mayflower. The Soule family moved from Maine to Kansas in the late 1850s, and became one of the founding families of Lawrence, Kansas. His family was active in the Underground Railroad. In 1860, Silas went to Pike’s Peak to get in on the Colorado Gold Rush. When the Civil War started, Silas enlisted, and was named lieutenant of the Colorado 1st Regiment Volunteer Infantry. He rose quickly through the ranks to become a well-respected officer.

Silas fought at the Battle of Glorieta Pass in New Mexico, which stopped the Confederate invasion of the West. Colonel John Chivington promoted Silas to captain, and posted him to Fort Lyon along the Santa Fe Trail.

In September 1864, Silas was part of the Smoky Hill peace talks with leaders of the Cheyenne and Arapaho tribes. This experience made him realize how deeply important it was to keep peace between whites and natives.

In late November, the 3rd Regiment, with a battalion of the 1st, arrived at Fort Lyon, and Colonel Chivington announced that these forces, along with the other soldiers at the fort, were going to massacre the Cheyenne and Arapaho camped at Sand Creek. Silas got wind of this, and he was having none of it. He went to the room where the officers were having their meeting, and told them that “any man who would take part in the murders was a low lived cowardly son of a bitch.”

Silas’s protests didn’t do any good, and on November 29, 1864, Chivington led the attack on the Sand Creek Camp. All Silas could to was refuse to fire, and he wouldn’t let his company attack the Indians either. Chivington was later tried for the massacre, and Silas testified at his commanding officer’s court-martial in January 1865.

In April 1865, Silas married Hersa Coberly and they settled in Denver, but their happiness was short-lived. On April 23, 1865, Silas was gunned down on the street. His murderers were never brought to justice.

Silas Soule is still revered by the Cheyenne and Arapaho tribe for his friendship towards them. I’m so jazzed to be related to this guy.

And Silas was quite the party animal, too. Makes me wish I could have gone drinking with him. While he was posted at Fort Lyon, he devised a scheme so he and his buddies could have a little fun. And the exploit was written up in none other than Harper’s Weekly:

    One night Lieutenant Clark, Lieutenant Soulé and Captain Wilson were very dry.  A most stringent order against the introduction of any ardent into camp being just then most rigorously executed, they had been discussing the ways and means of procuring something ”hot,” when Soulé cried out, “I’ve got it! You, Clark, are very sick-you must go to bed- you have got cramps- you must be covered up-you must have some brandy immediately!” In a moment Clark was very sick abed, covered with all the blankets at command, and Soulé was off in breathless haste to the hospital steward for brandy.  There he met the conscientious objections of the steward by the most earnest representations of the urgency of the case.  He could wait for no surgeon’s order-Lieutenant Clark might die! In a moment he was again with the “boys” flourishing a bottle of brandy in the air in triumph, and a jolly time they had drinking it.  But what was one bottle to them after a fortnight’s total abstinence? They were still dry!  Before the bottle was quite empty Soulé snatched it out of the hands of Clark, held it up to the light, eying it critically, took one more swig, and then said, “Now, boys, for another bottle!”  Raising the window curtain, it was but the work of a moment to catch a hundred flies and put them in the bottle containing a spoonful of brandy remaining.  Rushing back to the hospital steward in as breathless haste as before-this time holding up the bottle containing a spoonful of brandy and an equal amount of flies- cried out, “See there! Is that the kind of brandy you dispense to a sick man here?” With as many apologies as Soulé would wait to listen to, the poor steward handed him another bottleful of brandy, with which he returned to his comrades. The noise which soon issued from Lieutenant Clark’s quarters attracted attention, and a good many other officers took a taste of the second bottle.  Even the Colonel himself felt inclined to indulge; but as he never drinks, he punished himself by smoking a cigar.” — From Harper’s New Monthly Magazine, Feb 1865, Vol. 30, p 399, 400

So this Thanksgiving, I’m going to give thanks for all my relatives — for George Soule, who came over on the Mayflower 400 years ago, and for Silas, who refused to be ordered to do something he knew was wrong. And Silas, I’ll have a glass of honey whiskey in your honor. I hope you’ll join me.

Silas Stillwell Soule. My kinda guy.