Readers of that sterling Democratic journal, the New York Daybook, published in the metropolis in the years before the war, recall the articles of a spicy correspondent from “The Oaks,” in Alabama. That writer was the father of Gov. William James Samford. As one might judge from the conversation and from the speeches of Governor Samford, he was reared in an atmosphere of literature. To him, like to thousands of other southern youth, the war was untimely, as it interposed to cut short all prospects of a finished education, for as a stripling of seventeen he entered the service of the Confederacy. He had previously enjoyed all the facilities afforded in a country school near Auburn, and was in the sophomore class at the University of Georgia, when the call to arms reached him. Youthful as the boy soldier was, he soon became a lieutenant in the Forty-sixth Alabama Infantry, which distinction he won by gallantry on the field. Conditions were such that he was oftenest in command of the company.
Captured at Baker’s Creek, he was taken to Johnson’s Island. When his command was surrounded at Baker’s Creek, with no chance of escape, he drew his sword and behind a log drove it into the ground to the hilt to prevent its falling into the hands of the enemy. After his exchange, Governor Samford rejoined his command and was with Lee’s remnant when it surrendered.
Returning home when he was just twenty-one, Governor Samford went bravely to work on a farmto help save the growing crop of the spring of 1865. During the following fall he was married to Miss Drake, and settled on a small farm which he largely tilled with his own hands for several years. Possessed of an unusual intellect, as all who knew him recognized, Governor Samford was not content with turning the glebe, and procuring the elementary books of law, he would study at night after laboring through the day. He was fortunate in the companionship of an intelligent and sympathetic wife, to whom he would from time to time recite, as he would wade through the successive volumes of law.
In 1871 he removed to Opelika, was admitted to practice, and applied himself with energy. His thorough knowledge of the principles of law, resulting from his rigid application from the time of his entrance on its study, was superinduced by the labor which he bestowed on each case. A diligent, attentive, and intelligent lawyer is rarely without clients, and this admits of peculiar application to Governor Samford.
A striking and command physique, a genial manner, a mastery of his cases, and an eloquence which was natural, won him a practice that rapidly extended, not only, but a rank at the bar of which any one might justly feel proud. It is a notable fact that in the long career of the practice of Governor Stamford, he was never caught on any point unawares. He had gone over the entire ground in advance, had consulted the authorities with minute care, and entered the court fully equipped. Never presuming, as some lawyers do, that his opponents would overlook certain points involved in a givencase, he strongly fortified each one, especially the weaker, so that he was ready for battle when the case was called.
This habit, well known in connection with the practice of Governor Samford, won for him a widening fame, so that his practice was considerable and prominent throughout East Alabama, and in other parts of the state, and even beyond. A client once defeated in an important criminal case, by the scientific knowledge of Governor Samford, remarked that a man who knew as much as Samford, should not be allowed to practice! Instances occurred when the opposition and even the court itself, was taken by surprise by his exactness of knowledge of the scientific points involved in given cases. Governor Samford had read every available scientific work bearing on the case at issue, and was a match for the most expert witness that could be pitted against him.
While Governor Samford was fearless in the prosecution or defense of any cause, civil or criminal, entrusted to his care, there was always a stately suavity that characterized his bearing, even in the rough and tumble of the courtroom, as his native gentleness of heart forbade the slightest harshness, or any warmth of passion. He was willing to acknowledge a lack of firmness on his part, about which he would speak to friends, but he would at the same time acknowledge that it was due to his indisposition to be unkind to any one.
The creation of the present board of pardon in this state was due to his energy, as he did not believe that so much of that which is sacred should be lodged in the hands of a single man, but that thereshould be deliberation derived from a number of sources in the settlement of grave questions. No one was more distrustful of his own firmness than was he when confronted by an issue involving much happiness. There was this womanly element in his great nature which would sway him in spite of himself. Whatever may be said of Governor Samford, his most obstinate opponent could never deny the existence of this trait of gentleness and kindness. Yet when confronted by a principle which demanded decision, he could be firm, and was, as was abundantly shown by the exercise of the veto power when it needed to be invoked.
Governor Samford’s service to the state was manifold. Beginning as a soldier boy at seventeen, his career was marked throughout by services of a varied nature. While serving as a representative in the lower house, from Lee County, he was the recognized leader of that body. As senator, his merits were recognized by his being chosen the president of that body. As a delegate to the constitutional convention, his services were invaluable. As a representative in congress, he made a reputation for himself and for the state. Honored at last as governor, he brought to the functions of that high office his learning, ability, and experience in public life, all of which were valuable.
Only hints of the force of this profound lawyer, skilled statesman, cultured citizen, eloquent barrister, and Christian governor can be given in a sketch so circumscribed as this, but even such glimpses afford sufficient insight to enable one to judge of his rank of superiority. Always bright andcheerful, his sense and appreciation of humor did not forsake him on his last bed of illness. Yet there was profound devotion to God which he cherished and cultivated to the end. Cut down in the prime of life, Governor Samford died while serving as governor of the state.
For solid and substantial service and for disinterested devotion to the cause of Democracy, the duration of all which stretches through a period of about a half century, none excels the veteran editor, William Wallace Screws, of Montgomery. From the early dawn of manhood to ripened age, Major Screws has been identified with the fortunes of his native state. It is doubtful that another has impressed the thought of the state so uninterruptedly for so long a time as he. There has never been the slightest waver in his fidelity and downright labor for a long period of years. Certainly he has sufficiently won the approval of the people of the state as to be worthy of a place among the men who have constructed the commonwealth to its present stage of advancement. No flash nor picturesqueness, no sensation nor sudden innovation has at any time attached to that which he has done—it has been service rendered as in a treadmill, patiently, persistently, and perseveringly. He has gone down into the depths with his people, has suffered as they have, and has risen along with them through the varying fortunes which have been theirs in the years of the immediate past.
Major Screws’ native region is Barbour County. His academic training and all indeed he ever had, was at Glennville, a village noted in other days for its educational advantages. He entered life early, for he was admitted to the bar at twenty, after having studied in the law office of Watts, Judge &Jackson, at Montgomery. At the end of a two years’ practice, he entered the Confederate service, being among the first to enlist. Like many others, Major Screws was not a secessionist, but he was a patriot, and subordinating his personal views to the expressed judgment of the people of Alabama, he shouldered his musket and went with the first troops that were concentrated at Pensacola. He joined in the capture of the navy yard and of Fort Barancas, and later became a lieutenant in Company H, Fifty-ninth Alabama regiment, and served under General Bragg in Tennessee and Kentucky, participating in the battles of Chickamauga and Knoxville.
The last year of the war found Major Screws under Lee in Virginia. During that stressful and distressful period he was an active sharer, and was with the remnant of that brave army that surrendered at Appomattox. It was during his campaigning with the two armies that Major Screws developed his popular ability as a writer. A vigorous and versatile correspondent from the front, he enlivened the columns of the Montgomery Advertiser, then presided over by that brilliant editor, Samuel G. Reid. The keen insight of Major Screws into the situation led him at one time to forecast some of the contemplated movements of Bragg’s army, the publication of which led to his arrest by General Bragg, but this was a merely meaningless episode, and only served to develop the fact that the sagacious correspondent had too keen an insight for the comfort of the commanding general.
On his return home in 1865, Major Screws was entirely reliant on his pen for a livelihood, andbecame connected with The Advertiser as an associate. Great consideration was shown him by the editor, Mr. Reid, who finally put him in possession of the paper. Here has been the orbit of his great service to the state. His tripod was his throne, and though the paper was suppressed for a period of months, under the bayonets of reconstruction, it was not throttled, and its columns radiated with exposures of the corruption of those corrupt days. Under Major Screws, The Advertiser was the vent of heroic expression and the champion of the liberties of the people of Alabama. In those days of darkness and of trial, when Major Screws wrestled with poverty in the maintenance of his journal, the people of Alabama little knew what he was undergoing in their behalf. But in cool heroism he labored on, as though he had the purse of a prince at his command, and unselfishly served the people, undergoing perhaps as much privation as anyone who has ever served the state.
Under conditions like these the unselfishness of Major Screws was put to the test on more than one occasion. At one time during the agitation caused by the Stantons in the notorious struggle to obtain the issue of bonds in behalf of the Alabama and Chattanooga Railroad, the history of which struggle is too long to be gone into here, an agent of the Stantons appeared at Montgomery and proposed to Major Screws to pay him $51,000 for the use of the Montgomery Advertiser in the promotion of the fraudulent scheme. Major Screws was to remain the editor of the paper, and the sum proposed was merely to purchase the right to use its columns,through another, in fixing this burden on the people of the state. He was a poor man, grappling with the difficulties incident to the times, but he flatly declined the offer, and bravely continued his opposition to the issue of the bonds.
There was another occasion when he might have succumbed to a proposal as a Democrat, and found some plausible pretext for his action. The marvelous mineral resources of the state were winning national attention, and a segment of the Democracy in congress under the leadership of Hon. Samuel J. Randall, of Pennsylvania, was espousing protection in the interest of the mineral developments of the country. Mr. Randall was the champion of these Democratic protectionists, and it was sought to bring the mineral interests of Alabama into the movement. The bait was a tempting one at a time when capital was in great need for the development of our deposits, and an exponent, such as the Montgomery Advertiser was, would have proved of immense advantage to this wing of the Democratic party. Accordingly, a special agent was commissioned to Montgomery to offer to Major Screws the snug sum of fifty thousand dollars to espouse the cause of that particular wing, and take plausible shelter beneath the plea of the necessary development of the coal and iron of Alabama, but this he promptly declined. These are sufficient to show his unselfishness as well as his devotion.
Perhaps more than any other since the Civil War, Major Screws has been instrumental in shaping and directing the policies of the Democratic party in the state. He was a candidate for office once, when in1868 he was elected secretary of state, and during the first administration of Mr. Cleveland he was appointed postmaster at Montgomery. These are the only positions he has ever filled. His career is an important component of the forces which have made Alabama great in the galaxy of American states.
Major Screws has grown old in years in the cause of democratic liberty in Alabama, yet in spirit he is as virile and vigorous as he was in the days gone.
When a lad of thirteen, Col. Hilary A. Herbert came with his father’s family from Laurensville, South Carolina, to Alabama, and settled at Greenville, Butler County, where the lad grew to distinguished manhood. His advanced studies were prosecuted at the universities of Alabama and Virginia, at both of which schools he established a reputation for aptness and rigid accuracy. Admitted to the bar, Colonel Herbert had scarcely begun his career as a lawyer when the Civil War began. He had leisurely pursued his scholastic course and was about twenty-seven years old when the call to arms came.
Entering the army as a captain, he was attached to the Eighth Alabama Infantry, which regiment was sent to Virginia. He was with Magruder at Yorktown, was in the peninsula campaign, during which time he was promoted to the rank of major, and at Fair Oaks he fell into the hands of the enemy. He was soon exchanged, and on rejoining his command, was made lieutenant colonel. His regiment was first assigned to Longstreet’s corps, but later was transferred to that of A. P. Hill.
Colonel Herbert led his regiment into the battles of Fredericksburg, Salem Heights, Antietam, and Gettysburg. In the battle last named the Eighth Alabama was directly opposed by a Federal regiment commanded by Colonel Maginess, who, in after years, sat side by side with Colonel Herbert in congress.
The retirement of Colonel Herbert from the armywas due to a serious wound received in the Wilderness. The wound was inflicted on the left arm, a portion of the bone of which was carried away, and that practically nerveless limb still hangs at his side as a memorial of his gallant services. On receiving his wound, he was borne from the field in a critical condition.
Up to that time, though commanding the regiment for a long period, Herbert was only a lieutenant colonel, the colonel having been long disabled and unfit for duty, was not with the regiment, though his name still appeared on the roster as the commander of the regiment. Personally disabled as were both the colonel and the lieutenant colonel, they stood in the way of the promotion of those who were still in active service on the field. In recognition of this condition, Colonel Herbert wrote at once to the brigade commander, expressing the wish to be retired. Major I. P. Emerich, who was now in command, with great magnanimity, protested against such action, insisting that Herbert had won distinction as a leader of his troops, and insisted that fairness demanded that he be promoted before he be suffered to retire. Major Emerich was joined by other officers of the command in the protest, which resulted in the retirement of Colonel Herbert with the full rank of colonel. The action was alike creditable to Colonel Herbert and Major Emerich. The latter still lives an honored citizen of Mobile.
After the capitulation of the Confederate armies, Colonel Herbert located at Greenville in the resumption of the law practice, where he was easily at the head of the local profession. A wider sphere openedto him in 1872, in Montgomery, whence he removed and entered into copartnership with Mr. Virgil Murphy, and later was associated with Messrs. Clopton and Chambers, with whom he was engaged till 1877, when he was elected to congress, his intention being to gratify an ambition by remaining in his seat but one session of two years.
But an event occurred which changed the current of Colonel Herbert’s career. Samuel J. Randall, of Pennsylvania, had become speaker of the house, and there appeared on the scene Col. Tom Scott, of the same state, with a colossal scheme to procure a subsidy of $40,000,000 with which to build the Texas Pacific Railroad with branches extending to the most important southern points. It was a gigantic venture and wore a rosy front for the South, which region was seeking to get again afoot. On the delegation from the South, pressure was brought, because it was so plausibly promising and it was sought to be made appear that it was an undertaking which the South could not lightly esteem. The enginery of the scheme was far reaching in its operation, for the state legislatures were urged to take such action as would force the co-operation of their congressional delegations in its success. The Alabama legislature instructed its senators to vote for it, and requested its representatives to do so.
Knowing the source and purpose of the mammoth scheme, Colonel Herbert declined to support it. Every possible pressure was brought to bear, but Herbert was immovable. His maiden speech in congress was in opposition to Scott’s plan. His argument changed the current of his life. The speechwas printed and sent throughout his district, and though he protested against his renomination, he was returned to congress. Colonel Scott made another desperate effort to force the co-operation of Colonel Herbert, even employing learned and local counsel in Montgomery to induce the legislature to give imperative instruction to the state delegation to support the measure, and while this learned attorney alluded before the legislature to Colonel Herbert as misrepresenting the interests of the state, the assembly declined to instruct the members as desired, and the whole scheme was killed. Colonel Herbert now came to be recognized as one of the safest custodians of the interests of the state. While not a demonstrative gentleman, his merits came to be recognized in congress, as was shown by his appointment on the ways and means committee on which committee were such men as Reed, McKinley, and Morrison. His district kept him in congress as long as he would serve.
In 1885 he was appointed chairman of the committee on naval affairs at the request of President Cleveland. In 1893 Mr. Cleveland appointed him Secretary of the Navy. So popular was Colonel Herbert in Congress, that Republicans vied with Democrats in demonstrations of gratification at his promotion to the presidential cabinet. Just after his appointment to this honored post, he entered the hall of congress and was moving quietly toward the Democratic cloak room. Mr. Outhwaite, of Ohio, was speaking as Colonel Herbert was moving along the outer aisle, when a member spied him and broke forth with “Herbert! Herbert!” He paused, whenMr. Outhwaite generously said, “I will yield five minutes of my time to the gentleman from Alabama.” There was no escape, and Colonel Herbert had to speak. He pronounced with deep emotion his high appreciation of the honor and tribute, and it is said that this was the first instance where he was unable to restrain his emotions in public. He was wholly unable to disguise his profound emotions at a demonstration so great.
To Colonel Herbert the entire country is indebted for the efficiency of its national navy. Behind the guns of Dewey, at Manila, and those of Schley at Santiago, was the efficiency of Hilary A. Herbert. Though advanced in age, he is still prosecuting his practice in the national capital.
Prominent among Alabamians who have aided in building into greatness our commonwealth is the Honorable Willis Brewer, of Lowndes County. Along different channels he has wrought for many years. Planter, journalist, lawyer, author, and statesman, Colonel Brewer has been no inconspicuous contributor to the growth of the state. A native of Sumter County, Alabama, with his education restricted to academic training, he has turned to most valuable account his gifts and acquirements, and by the self-cultivation of the one, and by means of close and studious application of the other, he has been an active participant in the affairs of the state for many years.
When a mere lad of sixteen he, in connection with the late Judge William R. DeLoach, of Sumter County, began the publication of a paper at Milton, Florida, where they were, when the war began, in 1861. Both enlisted in the Confederate army, but the health of Mr. Brewer became broken, and he was assigned to post duty during much of the war, but served for a period on the staff of General Wirt Adams in the Mississippi campaign.
His fondness for journalism led him to resume the editorial pen just after the close of the war, when he published at Camden, Alabama, the Wilcox Times. It was at this time, when Mr. Brewer was only twenty-two years old, that Governor Patton appointed him on his staff with the rank of colonel, by which title he has since been known.
In 1868 Colonel Brewer removed to Hayneville, and founded the Hayneville Examiner. The times and the environments served to evoke from the young editor the best that was in him, and his paper became one of the most powerful engines in the state in the exposure of the corruption of reconstruction. The slogan resounding from the Hayneville Examiner, “the people against the fools and thieves in power,” caught, in its aptness, the ear of the state, and became a popular legend throughout the reconstruction era.
In 1876 to 1880 Colonel Brewer served the state as auditor. During 1880 he was chosen for the legislature and served during the remarkable period of eighteen years, twelve of which as senator and six as representative. At the end of that period he was chosen for congress, where he served for four years. Twenty-six years of public service, years of diligent activity, entitles him to the gratitude of the people of a great state.
Valuable as his service was in every position occupied by Colonel Brewer, his most useful service was rendered while he was state auditor. His career in that capacity began with the administration of Governor Houston, which was one of retrenchment and reform. The pivot on which the economic administration of Governor Houston turned was the office of the auditor, over which presided Colonel Brewer. Here he discovered the leakage of the resources of the state, and it was Colonel Brewer who not only discovered this vent but sealed it, and gave backbone to the economy of the administration. To illustrate, Colonel Brewer found that the taxcollector of Mobile County was allowed a credit of sixty-two thousand dollars for the lands bought by the state in 1874-75, and yet it was shown that Mobile was sold every year, while in the County of Dallas, not including the town lots, ninety-five thousand acres were sold in 1875.
Conditions like these had prostrated the state financially, and the eight per cent “horse shoe” money of the state was being hawked in the market at fifty and sixty cents on the dollar. Within two years after Colonel Brewer became state auditor, the eight per cent bonds of the state were funded at six per cent. He never suffered a tax collector to settle with a subordinate, but always with himself.
Another illustration of his share in the financial rehabilitation of the state is afforded by the fact that Colonel Brewer originated the state law of sale of property for taxes, which law he worked through the legislature during the session of 1878-9. He is the author of the law relative to descent and distribution by means of which parents inherit from their children when they die intestate, without wife or children. For seventy years the state had made no provision for parents, and no matter how old or infirm, they could not inherit, and the property fell to the brothers and sisters of the intestate.
From the dry, dull details of rigid business and the exacting irksomeness of burdensome labor, Colonel Brewer could turn with his facile pen to the production of the rarest English and the highest expression of thought. His passion for literature, for he is a most versatile student, has resulted in a style peculiarly his own—crisp, terse, luminous,condensed, cast in a classic mold. His History of Alabama, published in 1872, is an invaluable contribution to the literature of the state. As a stylist he is rigid in exactness, while preserving a singular flavor which is most agreeable to the learned reader. His “Children of Issachar,” a novel, deals with Ku Klux times. “The Secret of Mankind” is a metaphysical production which has won such praise as to cause it to be compared to the works of Tacitus and Swedenborg. Though published as far back as 1895, this work is securing a revived popularity, and is now being translated into the German. The last literary production of Colonel Brewer, “Egypt and Israel,” is a scholarly production of philology, and shows a remarkable knowledge of the language of the ancient Egyptians and Hebrews.
At this writing Colonel Brewer is still among us. His poise is still as erect as when a lad, and his speech as clear, though he has passed his sixty-seventh milestone. In commenting on an allusion made to him in the Mobile Register in September, 1907, which journal spoke of him as “the last of the southern colonels,” the Montgomery Journal said of Colonel Brewer: “No man in the state has a more distinguished personality, a personality more distinctly southern, and none whose brain and intellect, culture and learning so forcibly remind of the Old South, as does the Register’s Hayneville friend.”
In quiet leisure Colonel Brewer is spending his closing days at “The Cedars,” his country mansion, a few miles distant from Montgomery.
Alabama was favored by the double administration of Joseph Forney Johnston, who took with him into the office of chief executive the qualities of a successful man of business and a varied experience of years. When a boy, Governor Johnston removed from his native state, North Carolina, and, his father settling at Talladega, the son was placed at school, where he was when hostilities were begun between the states in 1861. Scarcely eighteen years old, he was among the first in the state to enlist in the Confederate service, and became a private in the Eighteenth Alabama Regiment. It is a matter of common observation that a good soldier makes a good citizen, which admits of application to Governor Johnston. The record of his soldierly career may be summarized in the facts that the stripling soldier rose from the ranks to a captaincy, served throughout the struggle, and bore from the conflict four scars as the results of wounds in so many battles.
Like thousands of others, the close of the war found him practically penniless in the midst of conditions of desolation occasioned by the long struggle, and in facing the future, as a young man of twenty-three, he selected law as a profession, studying in the office of General W. H. Forney. Admitted to the practice, Mr. Johnston located at Selma, where for eighteen years he devoted himself to law, confining himself, for the most part, to commercial law, which served to imbue himthoroughly with the principles of business. While an active participant in current affairs of a public nature, he was content to render whatever service he might to the common weal, but evinced no desire for official station. In the reconstruction struggles he actively shared, and, while assisting others to the gratification of political ambition, Mr. Johnston was content to adhere strictly to the demands of his profession.
The development of vast mineral deposits in north Alabama induced his removal to Birmingham in 1884, in which growing city he practically abandoned the practice of the law, having been chosen the president of the Alabama National Bank. A still wider sphere was opened to him when he was invited to become the first president of the Sloss Iron & Steel Company. Voluntarily retiring from the presidency of the bank, he assumed the larger duties of this great organization. This responsible station afforded ample exercise of the qualities of business with which Captain Johnston was equipped, and by the application of these, the company was placed on a solid and paying basis.
After years of service in this capacity, he caused it to become known that he aspired to the governorship of the state. He had never held political office, had never before desired it, hence had never before sought it; but now he did not disguise the fact that he wished to occupy the executive chair in the capitol of Alabama. His characteristic announcement of his candidacy was quite aside of the hackneyed phraseology of the ordinary political seeker. With blunt frankness he declared that he had notbeen solicited by numerous friends, and was not yearning to become a victim on the altar of political sacrifice in a consuming desire to render a public good, but simply that he had an ambition to become governor, believing that he could serve the state efficiently and with fidelity. Nor did he disguise the fact that he was possessed of this ambition for the distinction which it would afford and the honor it would bring.
Having resolved to enter the race for this high office, he bent his energies to the achievement. Twice he sought the position, and twice failed. In the third contest, however, in 1896, he was overwhelmingly chosen. That much was due to his praiseworthy persistency, his fealty to his party, which was ardently shown in his espousal of the candidacy of his opponents after he had himself failed, and to the fact that greater publicity was given his forces of character, there is no doubt. His unsuccessful efforts had served to display the type of man that he was, and there was a growing recognition of his merits.
On his entrance to the gubernatorial office he began at once to reduce the government to a business basis. He proceeded to lop off, here and there, official branches that bore no fruit and yet were duly fertilized at the public expense; he regulated the system of taxation, so as to equalize it, by requiring taxes to be paid which had hitherto escaped; he instituted the system of the examination of the books and accounts of county officials by expert accountants, and by economy of management caused to accrue to the state treasury a sum exceedingthirty million dollars. He took a direct personal interest in the public school system of the state, and it was during the administration of Governor Johnston that the question of an improved public road system was inaugurated. By steps like these he came to be recognized as “the business governor.” He was unanimously chosen to succeed himself after the expiration of his first term, and his gubernatorial career closed with the last year of the nineteenth century. In 1909 Governor Johnston and Honorable J. H. Bankhead were chosen by the popular vote of the state to succeed Senators John T. Morgan and E. W. Pettus, and in 1910 took their seats. Senator Johnston displayed the same solid qualities in the National Senate that he had previously shown as governor. His was not a demonstrative career, for he was a man of solid qualities rather than one of shining gifts. There was the utmost popular confidence in his judgment and in the integrity of his character. Steadfast to duty, often when physically unable, for his health had become greatly impaired, he won, as a senator, the thoughtful confidence of the people of Alabama.
An indication of the conscientiousness of his conviction was shown in the fact that in the famous Lorimer case, before the senate of the United States, Senator Johnston, guided by the evidence, declined to be swayed by the popular clamor to vote for the ejection of the Illinois senator. To many this was thought to be hazardous, but he openly declared that rather than do violence to his convictions, he would resign his seat. He therefore voted for the retention of Mr. Lorimer, and refused to be swervedby the outcry of the popular press. Senator Johnston was preparing for a contest to succeed himself when he suddenly died at Washington, in August, 1913.
ROMANCE OF ALABAMA HISTORY
The morning of May 25, 1539, found the shore of Tampa Bay, Florida, the center of a bright and animating scene. A wealthy Spaniard, chivalrous and dashing, had just before reached the port with a force of six hundred men, twenty officers and twenty-four priests in white canonicals, all bent on an expedition into the far interior. Their quest was the long-imagined El Dorado of the western world, which was a prize glittering before the imagination of the fervid adventurer. Ferdinando DeSoto, who led this daring troop, was not unaccustomed to adventures such as he had in contemplation, for he had been with Pizarro in Peru, where he was rewarded with rich booty, and he pined to invade the southern part of the North American continent, where he hoped to reap richer rewards than were found on the continent to the south. In the exploration on which he was now entering he had been preceded ten years before by Narvaez, who had perished by drowning. Now, with a freshly equipped expedition, DeSoto entered anew on an exploration of these western wilds in search of gold.
Novel spectacle was this on the wild and primitive shore of Florida. Men in brilliant uniforms, and with helmets glittering in the spring sun, gayly caparisoned steeds, a procession of white-robed priests bearing their crucifixes, formed a procession at once novel and imposing. As they filed out and formed for the march, there was ranged in theirrear a small herd, each of cattle and of hogs, to be driven on the expedition for supplies of milk and meat. As the expedition advanced inland, there was a strange multiplication both of swine and of cattle.
It was picturesque enough, this cavalcade of horsemen in shining attire, bearing the ensign of Spain, wending its way slowly through the virgin forests of tall pines. Their camp fires of rich, resinous pine knots, in the midst of stately trees, which stood like pillars in a vast cathedral, lent a scene of enlivenment to the forest surroundings. The region was green with long, wild grass and the native peavine, while the blossoms of early spring were in their glory.
Streams deep and crystal abounded, along which grew the rank cane. Herds of deer and droves of wild turkeys came frequently into view as targets for the Spanish marksmen, and the troop reveled in unusual luxury, with venison and turkey meat even in the wild woods of the continent of the West.
From the early stages of the march toward the interior, combats with the Indian tribes began, but the Indian was unequal to the Spaniard because of the better equipment of the latter. The savages were overawed by the splendor of the white soldier, and as much by his horse as by himself, for horses the Indians had never before seen. DeSoto was fortunate in the capture of Jean Ortiz in a contest in the interior of Florida. Ortiz had been one of the band of Narvaez, had been captured by the Indians ten years before, had succeeded in saving his life by wily stratagem, and because of his soldierly qualities had been made a chief of one of the tribes.
Under conditions like these, Jean Ortiz had lived for ten years, making the most of the circumstances, and had long ago given up all hope of leading other than the life of a wild savage. The dominion of his tribe fell within the march of invasion of the Spaniards, and Ortiz led his warriors to battle against them. Sorely beaten in the encounter, many of his warriors having been slain, Ortiz and his troops fled in confusion, hotly pursued by the Spanish horsemen. Ortiz was specially sought to be killed because he was the leader, and as a cavalryman raised his lance to deal a deadly blow, the chief cried out in Spanish, much to the surprise of the pursuer: “Slay me not; I, too, am a Christian!” The half-nude savage was taken to DeSoto, his body smeared with divers paints, his hips swathed in a fawn skin girdle and his head bedecked with a coronet of pretty feathers. He told the story of his capture and wild life to the Spanish commander, and placed himself at his service. Ortiz proved to be a valuable ally to the troop in acquainting DeSoto with the methods of the savages, and in serving frequently as an interpreter.
DeSoto found the aborigines to be far more formidable fighters than he had expected. While their implements of combat were rude, yet when wielded by the Indian, they did deadly execution. The chief weapon of warfare of the Indian was the bow, the character of which made it an object of terror. The bows were made of sun-cured hickory saplings the size of a man’s wrist and eight feet long. Curved and secured by a strip of rawhide, the bow was no mean instrument of peril in the hands of themuscular savage. To the flexibility of the hickory bow and the elasticity of the thong were adjusted the skill and aim of the practiced warrior. The arrows were finished with a view to accuracy of aim, velocity, and deadliness of execution. Tipped with triangular flints with rough edges and pointed sharpness, they were driven with an aim so unerring, and with such force and celerity, that they could be shot through a man or beast at a distance of one hundred yards. With a quiver full of these arrows strapped to his back, the brawny warrior would sally forth, an object of terror.
Fortunately for the Spaniards, they were prepared with armor sufficient to withstand these crude weapons, for each soldier wore a coat of steel, a helmet and breastplate, and carried a shield of metal. Their horses were also protected with coats of steel. With their biscayan lances, broadswords, arquebuses, crossbows, and a small piece of artillery, the Spaniards felt secure against the primitive implements of the savage. Though thus secured against savage attack, DeSoto and his men soon learned that theirs was not a primrose path through the American wilds. The Indian proved to be a terrible antagonist with his foxy stratagem and his primitive method of warfare. These pampered sons of Spain, many of whom had been petted and nourished in mansions and in palaces of luxury, had daily to fight for their lives on the invaded territory of the red man, who would engage the Spaniards at points of the greatest advantage to themselves, and who enjoyed every possible advantage because of their familiarity with the surroundings. But for Ortiz, theexpedition might have perished before it had quitted the present territory of Georgia.
The Spaniards never knew when to expect an assault. Often at the most unconjectured time, they would receive a shower of arrows, noiseless in their flight, and coming from unseen sources. Every hour, by day and by night, they were kept in suspense, and even intervals of quietude became ominous of accumulating trouble. Sometimes from the summits of rocky hills in front an attack would be made; sometimes one flank assailed, then both simultaneously; while not infrequently the rear would be attacked by overwhelming numbers of shrieking, yelling demons, whose painted, naked bodies and fierce demonstrations would create pandemonium. There was little in tragic scenes like these to hearten the tender gentry of Spain. By dint of rare discipline, maneuver, powder and ball, of which the Indians knew nothing, and an intensely common interest of protection which welded the Spaniards together, they invariably prevailed, but never were shrewder, more stubborn or fiercer foes encountered, than these raw savages of the American forest.
Though duly provided with workers in metal with their pots and ladles for the refinement of gold, the troops found no use for them after months of a straggling march through the woods of the South. The alluring vision of the invading Spaniard of the abundance of gold in the retreats of the American wilds, was gradually dispelled and vastly counterbalanced by the hourly peril that menaced. That the spirit of the troops so long survived conditions like these, shows the stern stuff of which the Spanishsoldier of that time was made. His love of gold was consuming, while his spirit of adventure was the most audacious. These, combined with the necessary coherence in common defense, made DeSoto’s band well nigh invincible.
After a considerable detour of the present state of Georgia, DeSoto reached the region where the city of Rome now is, where he crossed the river, and was the first white man to set foot on the soil of Alabama. Of the subsequent scenes of the expedition we shall have occasion to learn in the chapters that are to follow.
Thirteen months of hardship and of Indian warfare had changed the original picnic appearance of the Spanish troop. The uniforms were not now so lustrous, and the young grandees did not disport themselves as they did more than a year before, on the shore of Tampa Bay. The elements had dimmed the luster of their equipments, the hot southern sun had bronzed their complexions, their uniforms looked much the worse for wear, and, while the pots and ladles of the refiners were still unused, there was yet the undaunted flash of hope in the Castilian eye. It was a resolute legion under a resolute leader.
The Coosa was crossed, that stream of crumpled surface which the Indian in his native sense of poetry had called “Rippling Water,” which is the meaning of Coosa, and now the cavalcade turned toward the southwest, as one would look from Rome toward Blount Springs and Tuscaloosa. It seems that from the Georgia side the Indians had sent runners to the tribes on the thither side, warning of the advance of the strange cavalcade of invasion, for as DeSoto pursued his way he met one embassy after another, offering every concession in order to placation.
The line of march was through the present counties of Cherokee, Calhoun, Talladega and Coosa. Like Cæsar in Gaul, DeSoto jotted down his observations and impressions, for he was a scholarly warrior, and his records are a matter of permanent value. He was charmed by the primeval beauty ofthat northeastern region of Alabama. Streams, swift, bright and deep, unalloyed by the soil and sediment of the present time, wound their way among the hills; magnificent timbers stocked the forests; mountains were the more imposing because of their wooded flanks; flowering vines, in gorgeous beauty, climbed to the tops of the tallest trees; festoons of wild grapes were suspended from tree to tree; varied floral coloring decked the region throughout, while meadows of the rarest green were spread like carpets along the valleys, through which ran flashing streams like threads of silver woven into the carpeted verdure.
Here, too, the observant and intelligent Spaniard detected the difference between the Indian tribes that he had encountered on the eastern side of the river, from those on this side. Fertility of soil, picturesqueness of scenery, or the inheritance of forces from a superior ancestry, or all these combined, had placed the Alabama tribes far in advance of their tawny brethren across the stream. Here were found cleared fields, on which was grown corn in abundance, of which there were rude barns full to overflowing. Settlements and towns were laid out with some respect to order, and the huts and wigwams were built with more regard to comfort and of appearance. It was the opinion of DeSoto that the highest civilization possible to the Indian unaided, was here reached.
Environed by conditions like these, the Spanish commander was much affected, favorably concerning the Indian, but unfavorably respecting himself and his men. This advanced condition of the Indiansuggested to him a problem which he had not anticipated, for he was now to deal with a class of people not before met, and for which he had not planned. This was accompanied by a suspicion, inseparable from Spanish character, that these manifestations of embassies meant for him a trap, and by this he was controlled ever afterward, much to his disadvantage, as we shall see.
He was now within the dominion of the chief of Coosa, a great monarch in these far interior wilds. His dominion was vast, his people loyal and brave, thrifty and numerous. His capital city was Coosa, and to DeSoto the chief sent an embassy of welcome, which was coldly greeted by the suspicious Spaniard. When DeSoto came near the capital, he was met by the Indian monarch himself, attended by a thousand painted warriors, stalwart, tall, erect, lithe, and dignified of movement. They walked the earth like princes. Around a band about the head of each, were nodding plumes of varicolored feathers. With lofty port and evident pride, they escorted their chief into the presence of the Spanish invader. The chief himself was a fellow of commanding build, and as he sat erect on a rude chair borne on the shoulders of four brawny braves, he was not unconscious of his consequence as a great ruler.
The Spanish were astonished by a scene so splendid in these sylvan retreats. To them it was a spectacle of wonder. About the wide shoulders of the mighty chief was a mantle of martin skins, soft and glossy, which fell in graceful folds about his huge form, while his head was adorned with a coronal of brilliant plumage. His immense escortof painted attendants lifted their voices in Indian melody, accompanied by piping on their cane flutes.
The two bands of Indians and of Spaniards were brought front to front, each silently scanning the other curiously, each magnificent in its own way. Each was equally a revelation to the other—the plumed and half-naked savages, with faces hideous with divers paints, bearing bows, arrows and wooden clubs, and the steel-clad warriors of ancient Spain with metal armor, and mounted on animals never before seen by the Indians. Through Jean Ortiz, an interpreter, the ceremony was conducted. Speeches were exchanged, after which DeSoto was escorted with much pomp to the quarters prepared for his entertainment.
Haunted by a dark suspicion, DeSoto kept the chief near him and retained him as a sort of hostage near his quarters. While the Indian is revengeful, he is kind even unto death, when a friend. The chief had exhausted his ingenuity in providing entertainment for his distinguished guest, and that guest now requited that kindness by placing the chief under arrest. The man of the woods showed deeply and keenly the humiliation felt, but the supercilious Spaniard cared not for that. The untutored warriors were enraged by the untimely treatment of their chief and gathered in knots and groups about the settlement with a low hum of murmur. Their savage blood waxed hot, and they began to foment mischief. DeSoto cared nothing for savage amenity and hospitality, and was concerned alone for his own safety. Gratitude is not an element in the Spanish character, and DeSoto had not crossedthe seas to indulge in diplomatic palaver, but had come in search of the yellow gold.
Stung by revenge, the Indian warriors by thousands slid away to the woods by different ways, to plan for the extinction of the invading host, the intruder, the ingrate. Apprised of their movement, DeSoto summoned his forces and sent them in pursuit, and scattered the warriors before they could assemble, and by concerted action attack him. A large number of them were made prisoners, both of men and women, whom DeSoto handcuffed, put iron collars about their necks and loaded them with chains. All this was done openly in their own capital city. Around his headquarters sat in groups the meek-eyed prisoners, while near the house provided for the entertainment of the Spaniard sat their revered chief, himself a prisoner. The chief, the wiser of the two, pleaded that, whatever was meted out to him, his people be not thus so cruelly served. In response DeSoto sufficiently relented to release some of the prisoners, while he retained others, and when at last he took his leave he forced them to become burden-bearers of his camp equipage.
Still anxious to afford assurance of his sincerity, the imprisoned chief sought repeatedly to avow it afresh, but it fell on the leaden ears of the heartless Spaniard. Engaging DeSoto in conversation, the chief even went so far as to offer a vast domain of land to the Spaniard for the founding of a Spanish colony, and proposed to allow him to select it himself. At this DeSoto only laughed, and told his entertainer that it was not land that he sought, but gold. Well had DeSoto learned the lesson givenby the atrocious Pizarro in Peru, with whom he was, during that notorious invasion far to the south.
DeSoto was in no haste to quit the Coosa capital, and with lavish hand he fed his horses, cows, and hogs on the housed corn and provender of the savages, while his men were refreshed by a long-needed rest. When he at last took his departure, he left with the Indians some of his most undesired cattle and swine, besides a negro slave, who had fallen sick, and was unable to travel. The Indians were delighted to retain the African, as they were greatly impressed by his thick, heavy lips, his black skin, and his woolly hair. Long afterward it was noted that the Indians in that quarter were of a darker hue than were the neighboring tribes, which was attributed to the remote ancestry of this son of Ham. After lingering for a full month in the Indian capital, DeSoto took his leave, but not without crowning his cruelty by taking with him the proud young chief as a prisoner of war. The most that can be said in extenuation of this infamy is that he treated him with kindness. Realizing that it was futile and perhaps perilous to protest, the chief bore the indignity with becoming calmness, showing that of the two men, he was the superior. Though kindly treated, the chief was closely watched and guarded, lest he might escape and produce havoc. Taking up his line of march, DeSoto still moved toward the south.
As had before occurred, couriers preceded DeSoto, warning the Indians of other settlements and tribes of his coming. Numerous Indian towns were passed by the Spaniards as they wended their way, following the wide and well-beaten paths of the Indians as they threaded the primeval forests. The Spaniards were cautious and wary, and kept a sharp outlook for lurking danger. They would invariably pitch their camps at night on the outskirts of an Indian village, and at times, well within its limits. If an attack or misfortune should come, there was an evident advantage of close proximity to supplies. The Spaniard was suspicious, the Indian distrustful.
Much after the fashion of the ancient cities of Europe and of the farther east, some of the larger towns of the Indians were surrounded by massive walls. Timbers hard and heavy, of cured oak and hickory, sometimes sunk deep into the earth and standing upright, at others lying horizontally, but in each instance strong and compact, made the walls most formidable to attack. Along the summits of these ramparts, high and rude, were watch towers or lookouts, warily sentineled. There was evident the sense of geometric order, skilled workmanship, and resistfulness to attack from without, all of which served to heighten the wonder of the Spaniard, if indeed it did not deepen his solicitude.
The Tallapoosa River was reached—a stream flanked by dense woods and penetrating soils of blackness and of a dingy red. DeSoto was greatlyimpressed by the savage skill shown in the location of a fortified town in a graceful curve of the river. Tallassee, for that was the name of the town, had a double protection in the river which coiled about it, and in the wall which more immediately encircled it. From the nature of the fortifications, the Indians evidently regarded Tallassee one of their strong and strategic points. In the regions adjacent, lining the fertile banks of the river, were fields of corn with heavy ears almost sufficiently ripe for the harvester. This was in 1540, some time after which this beautiful and prosperous Indian region was invaded by tribes of Indians from Mexico, who, with tomahawk and fire, laid waste the country, burning the towns, and reducing to slavery such of the native tribes as were not slain. In point of Indian relics, no part of the country is rarer and richer than this. Numerous relics have here been found for the enrichment of depositories, and a few years ago a peculiar implement of antiquated warfare was plowed up in this region. The metal implement suits the description of the cannon in use at the time of the DeSoto invasion. It represents the type of ordnance known in those days as the “drag,” the heavier pieces of which were suspended by chains, from an axle between two wheels, when movable, or between two fixed objects, when used for stationary service. They were sometimes sufficiently light to be held off from the person, in the palm of the hand, when used for firing. This last description suits that of the implement found in the Tallapoosa region. It may be seen among the interesting collections so industriously made by Dr.Thomas M. Owen, the able and efficient director of the Alabama state department of archives and history, in the capitol at Montgomery. When the railroad was building between West Point and Montgomery, there was dug up in the region of the Tallapoosa River, a necklace of rare beads, such as were worn by chiefs and princesses in the primitive days.
At Tallassee, whither had come the terrible news of the approaching Spaniards, such of the Indians as did not betake themselves to the forts met DeSoto with slight and cool civility. In order to rest his force, the Spaniard halted here for twenty days, during which time men and stock were recuperated and the stores of the commander replenished. It was here that DeSoto was visited by a sprightly young brave of splendid physical mold, gaudily attired, excessively polite, and making much show of primitive diplomacy, who invited the Spaniard to the dominion and capital of Tuskaloosa, a powerful chief, the territory of whom began about thirty miles south of Tallassee and extended westward to the banks of the Tombeckbe.
DeSoto was notified that Tuskaloosa was in person awaiting him near the northern confine of his dominion, and was ready to accord a welcome alike befitting the great monarch, and the brave Spanish commander. To all of this and much more, DeSoto listened with imperturbable mood, meanwhile according due respect to the punctilious young diplomat, who, when he signified his purpose to return, the Spaniard sent a message of grateful acknowledgment to the chief, not unattended with gifts. With this the incident closed, but it had a bloody sequel.
On quitting Tallassee, and before crossing the river on his southward march, DeSoto released the chief of the Coosa and sent him back to his people a bearer of gifts. The chief had served DeSoto’s purpose, and, now that no danger could come of him, he was dismissed. The valuable gifts in part atoned for the perfidy of his retention in captivity.
Up to this time the Spaniards had had much their own way. Everything that disputed their progress had been swept aside as so many cobwebs. With genuine Castilian arrogance, mixed with cruelty, they had marched the land through with the air of masters, but their brightest days were now behind them. The future had in store for them abounding trouble and misfortune, to grapple with which would tax them to the utmost. Gold, the only object of the quest of this adventurous itinerary, had induced these young fellows of Spain to sell their estates and enlist under the standard of DeSoto, had not been found. Not a grain of the precious metal had been discovered, and more, they were not destined to find any. They had been lured by lust for gain far into the wilderness fastnesses of America, had encountered fierce and hostile tribes, were remote from their ships, and their condition was now a precarious one. Brave, daring and well equipped as they were, even these advantages were not without serious limitation, and there was little to save them from utter extinction in these deep forest retreats.
Nor were there lacking omens of disaster which did not escape the acute detection of the wary and wily Spaniard. Beneath the thin sheath of diplomacy and protestations of friendship and ofhospitality, there lurked a subtle purpose to decoy these men of Spain to destruction. DeSoto felt this in his bones. That the Coosa chief was sincere there is little doubt, but DeSoto’s treatment of him had exposed his apprehension, which, in turn, sharpened the revenge of the Indian. The Spaniard’s overwrought precaution hastened to ripeness a conspiracy which else might have been averted.
Coming within easy reach of the place of meeting appointed by the chief, Tuskaloosa, DeSoto dispatched his camp master, Moscoso, in advance with fifteen picked horsemen, clad in imposing attire, ostensibly to negotiate, but really to impress. Ostensibly Moscoso was to ascertain the wishes of the chief concerning the nature of the formalities at the approaching meeting. Moscoso found the proud monarch of the wilderness seated on two beautiful cushions, placed on a rare and curiously wrought mat. He was stationed on a lofty eminence which commanded, in all directions, a view of imposing natural grandeur. Around him stood, in large numbers, half-naked warriors, with bodies smeared with paint of different colors. Above the chief they held a canopy formed of deerskins, and supported at each end with slanting staves. The canopy was rudely ornamented on the upper side with parallel lines of varied color. While this was used as an improvised protection from the sun, it was really a banner of war. The chief was a fine specimen of the physical man, large, strong, sinewy, erect, and heavy limbed. He looked the savage sovereign to perfection. His manner was consequential, but dignified. Anxious to impress the haughty chief with the importance, andespecially with the prowess, of the coming Spaniards, Moscoso and his band pranced their proud steeds before him. With necks arched, eyes dilated and nostrils thin, the horses reared and plunged, while the practiced cavalrymen would perform feats of acrobatic horsemanship. With visage unmoved, the chief quietly gazed on without demonstration.
Later, dashed up DeSoto with the entire troop, hoping to produce an impression of awe, if not of terror, but the stolid chief remained as austere as ever. If DeSoto would impress Tuskaloosa with his importance, Tuskaloosa was just as intent on impressing DeSoto with his profound greatness. It was throughout a dramatic game of diplomacy, at which each sought to play with more effect. The reception was short, the speeches brief and cautious. The savage spoke with haughty reserve, as though compelled by courtly form. DeSoto, though speaking briefly, was extravagant in praise of the chief, but especially of himself. He sought to impress the proud Indian with the idea that, while as an Indian he thought him peculiarly great, and in condescending magnanimity he would accord this, still it was an honor not to be lightly esteemed by the chief, that the Spanish commander should make any concession at all. This event occurred just south of Line Creek, in the present county of Montgomery.
The meeting was mutually unsatisfactory. Both chief and commander were doubtful of the accomplished result, and both were consequently stiffened to increased vigilance and resolution. One was suspicious, the other treacherous. In motive, each was equally hostile. Each felt that he had strainedconcession, each was bent on final success. That a juncture had been reached that would result in a fair test of ability, each knew, and of the issue, neither doubted. Both would plan and watch. It was a hand-to-hand fight beneath a show of formality. Whatever the conditions, DeSoto was determined to keep the chief near himself. After two days, DeSoto prepared to move. With much show of politeness, he invited the chief to ride with him. The choicest of the horses was selected, a blood red blanket thrown over it, while there was tendered to the chief a crimson cap, and robe of the same color, all of which fascinated Tuskaloosa while it showed a courtesy undreamed of. For the first time, the doughty warrior was lifted astride a charger. The spectacle was grotesque enough—the red robed warrior on the red blanketed steed, with his huge feet, in loose moccasins, hanging low. Out of the camp they rode at the head of the cavalcade, DeSoto and the chief, while thronging thousands gazed with admiring and gaping wonder. It was a ride that preceded a bloody tragedy.