John James Audubon.John James Audubon.
He married a young lady in Pennsylvania, and brought her down the Ohio in a flat-bottomed float called an ark,—a rather tiresome method for a wedding trip.
He entered into business in Louisville with bright prospects, but hunting and studying birds had more fascination for Audubon than trade. Finally, competition becoming too strong, he and his partner shipped their goods to Henderson or Hendersonville; but business not being good, and the roving instinct strong, the stay was brief, and Audubon made another change.
A few years later he returned to Henderson when he, with several partners, attempted to operate a steam mill; but the place was not suitable, every one concerned lost his money, and Audubon departed withonly his sick wife, gun, drawings, and dog. Still he never despaired.
Audubon spent most of his time in Kentucky, rambling in the wilds, and persons in both Louisville and Henderson have often spoken of seeing him come in with his great quota of game. He said Kentucky was a "sort of promised land for all sorts of wandering adventurers."
While Audubon enjoyed, to the fullest, studying his favorite subject, birds, yet there were many difficulties to encounter and many deprivations to undergo. He had to travel many thousand miles, sometimes using the breasts of wild turkeys for bread and bear's grease for butter, sometimes living on only fruits and roots, sometimes having to quit this enchanting work for a while and turn dancing master or artist to procure funds.
After Audubon had traveled, studied, written, and made many hundred drawings, rats got into his boxand cut up all his papers; for a while he was almost heartbroken and could scarcely eat or sleep. Finally, with true courage, he said, "I will make more drawings and make them better than any the rats cut up." So he persevered and, with the aid of his wife, who encouraged and inspired him in his great work, and gladly gave of her salary as a teacher to defray expenses, he at last went to Europe to arrange for its publication.
He was made a member of the Royal Society at Edinburgh, concerning which he wrote his faithful wife, "So, poor Audubon, if not rich, thou wilt be honored at least and held in high esteem among men." In another letter he said, "I have run the gantlet of Europe and may be proud of two things,—I am considered the first ornithological painter and the first practical naturalist of America." His "Birds of America" contains pictures of one thousand sixty-five birds, natural size. His work has been called the "most magnificent monument that has been erected to ornithology," and all over our land Audubon Societies have been formed to protect our friends in feathers.
It takes neither the excitement of war nor the curious conditions of the far Orient to prove a man a hero of the highest type. Martial music, the roar of the cannon, the thud of the musket, and the flash of the saber have inspired many men to deeds ofvalor. We find incontrovertible evidence of this in every battle's record. These are accepted as facts with no fancy interwoven. But when we read of how Damon offered to stay in the place of his friend, Pythias, condemned to death, with the knowledge that if Pythias did not return by the hour appointed for the execution, he, himself, would be called upon to make the sacrifice; how he prayed that his friend would fail to come, but how that friend, by every conceivable plan, purposely came in time to accept his fate,—we sometimes wonder if any friendship could withstand such a test or any person's pledge be held in such exalted estimation.
In the early days of Kentucky, when the shrill whistle of the locomotive had not yet reverberated among the hills, when the red schoolhouse was not found in every locality, nor the moonlight schools had wiped out illiteracy among the mountaineers, there dwelt in Lewis County a man by the name of Larkin Liles. He was the hardy son of a hardy race, who hunted and trapped, lived and loved; and while he knew not a letter of the alphabet, had never attended school a day in his life, nor heard the golden rule, yet his rugged honesty and high sense of honor can never be surpassed. The "benevolent qualities of head and heart by a primeval decree are not dependent on education, for although it enlightens and enlarges the mind of man, it does not always ennoble it." So this man, versed in naught but the backwoodsman's lore, gave the world a lesson in honor.
On one occasion, when at Vanceburg in the above-named county, and while under the influence of whiskey, he became involved in a rough-and-tumble fight with very serious results. For this offense he was tried, found guilty, and sentenced to serve one year in the penitentiary. It so happened that the sheriff of Lewis County at this time was a personal friend of "Jay-bird" Liles, and knew the soul of honor hidden by this rough exterior.
After leaving the courtroom, the prisoner, in a voice husky with emotion, said, "Uncle Buck,"—everyone called the sheriff of Lewis County by this title,—"Uncle Buck, won't you let me go home and get in my winter's wood and fix to have my corn crap gathered, to fatten my hogs, to keep the young-uns on? Then I's come over to Clarksburg and go with ye to the penitentiary."
Sheriff Parker asked, "How long will it take ye, Jay-bird?"
"About two weeks," he replied.
Then the magnanimity of the man shone forth,—some might say overcame the discretion of the officer,—when the sheriff replied, "Go ahead and do it." But so well did he know the pride with which "Jay-bird" Liles kept a promise, that he was as confident of his return at the promised time, as was Damon that Pythias would return.
The wood was cut, an arrangement was made concerning the crop, the good-by kiss was given to hisweeping wife and helpless babes, and, feeling he was going on such a distant trip that he would never again return, Larkin Liles, just two weeks to the day and hour from the time of the above conversation, walked into the sheriff's office ready to be taken to Frankfort.
When he told "Uncle Buck" that he was ready to start, the sheriff shook his hand and told him to spend the night with him, and on the morrow they would take the boat for Maysville, and from there go by stage to Lexington, and on to Frankfort. Again "Jay-bird's" voice trembled as he thought of the disgrace of being publicly taken by the sheriff to the penitentiary; and again he made a most singular request. "Say, Uncle Buck, I'd rather not do it. You go that way; but let me take my gun and walk through the mountains to Frankfort, won't ye? I'd rather do that, and maybe I might kill some game on the road. I'll meet you on any spot, on any day you appoint."
What do you suppose the sheriff replied? Looking him straight in the eye he answered, "All right, Jay-bird, suit yourself. Frankfort lies right in yon direction; you can't miss it. When you reach Frankfort, go straight to the governor's office and tell him what you are there for, if I don't get there first."
Then this rugged mountaineer, this unlettered, unpolished son of the hills, with honor as his watchword, dressed in the primitive style of the time and place, with his trusty rifle, started over the hills, through vales, and across streams to meet the sheriff at Frankfort,one hundred and fifty miles away, where he would hear the lock snap as it closed the door that would shut him in from freedom and friends.
Early one June morning, two days later, before the people of Frankfort were abroad, a tall, gaunt, determined-looking backwoodsman, in buckskin clothes and a coonskin cap, looking as if he belonged to the days of Daniel Boone, made his way to the governor's mansion and quietly seated himself on a stone. As Governor Clark started from the mansion after breakfast, he was astonished to see this man of the mountains, who quickly inquired, "Say, Mister, be you the governor?"
"Yes, my man, I am the governor. What can I do for you?"
"Well, Governor, my name is Larkin Liles, and I come up here from Lewis County to get into the penitentiary for one year. Hed you saw anything of Buck Parker?"
Utterly astounded, Governor Clark asked, "Who is Buck Parker?"
"Why, Buck Parker is the high sheriff of Lewis County, Kaintucky. I thought everybody knowed that. We all call him 'Uncle Buck' Parker. He was to come by stage and meet me here. I walked through."
While Governor Clark was eying him and trying to realize that such unheard-of proceedings had actually happened, "Jay-bird" said anxiously, "Say, Governor,the sheriff ain't here yit, and I don't want to lose no time. Can't you let me into the penitentiary and tell Buck Parker whar he can find me when he comes?"
"Well, Governor, my name is Larkin Liles.""Well, Governor, my name is Larkin Liles."
More astonished than ever, Governor Clark said, "Have you had your breakfast, Mr. Liles?"
With a shake of the head, "Jay-bird" said that he had traveled all night and upon reaching the city had come straight to the governor. The governor at once took him in, gave him his breakfast, and told him to go over to the capitol, until he could learn more about the case.
Ten hours later, the sheriff came by stage and soon found "Jay-bird" at the governor's office. When the sheriff introduced himself to Governor Clark, the governor immediately asked if it was a fact that this man, condemned to a year of confinement and hard work in the penitentiary, had trudged on foot alone all the way from Lewis County. When told it was just as "Jay-bird" had said, the governor, in amazement, asked, "Is the man crazy? Couldn't he have escaped?"
"Easily, and all the sheriffs, constables, and rewards could never have caught him. No, 'Jay-bird' is not simple; he is only honest." The governor was so interested he asked for all the details.
Then "Uncle Buck" told of the fight, the trial, and the conviction, of how "Jay-bird" had kept his word when permitted to go to say good-by to his loved ones, of his long life of honesty and hospitality, and of how he had begged to come alone on foot to Frankfort, rather than as a common, convicted felon.
With a heart heaving with emotion and eyes dim with tears, the executive hastily affixed his nameand the seal of the commonwealth to a small piece of paper, and, handing it to Larkin Liles, said in a husky voice, "Mr. Liles, go home to your family and kiss the little ones for me. You shall never enter the penitentiary while Clark is governor of Kentucky."
It is eminently proper that the metropolis of "Jackson's Purchase" should bear a name of Indian origin. Although the greater part of Kentucky, with its fertile meadowlands, towering forests, and tangled cane-brakes, was only the hunting ground of the red men, yet all that territory in Kentucky and Tennessee lying between the Tennessee and Mississippi rivers was the home of the Chickasaw Indians. This large tribe had their main town at Chickasaw Bluffs, where Memphis now stands, with a number of other settlements scattered throughout this seven million acres of fertile lands.
As Kentucky was once a part of Virginia, and as the "Old Dominion" was a British colony, this section was once claimed by Great Britain. After the Revolutionary War, Virginia, relying on the former policy of the mother country, that,
"They should take who have the power,And they should keep who can,"
"They should take who have the power,And they should keep who can,"
allowed George Rogers Clark, in recognition of his services in the Northwest Territory, to enter several thousand acres of land, including the present site of the capital of McCracken County.
At that time there were no white settlements in this section; but as early as the year 1806 or 1807 there was a flatboat landing and woodyard at the mouth of the Tennessee River, kept by a genial Irishman named Pat Dugan. The first name given the place, and the one by which it was known for many years, was Pekin.
On October 19, 1818, through Governor Isaac Shelby and General Andrew Jackson, commissioners, the United States bought from the Chickasaw Indians their tract referred to above, which in the present state of Kentucky includes the counties of Ballard, Calloway, Carlisle, Fulton, Graves, Hickman, Marshall, and McCracken.
For many years the hero of Kaskasia, Cahokia, and Vincennes had been infirm and poor. We all remember the touching scene when the Virginia commission presented him a sword in recognition of his great services to the United States; the old soldier listened in gloomy silence for a while and, finally, thrusting the sword into the ground and breaking it, he exclaimed, "When Virginia needed a sword I found one. Now I want bread!" By the treaty just mentioned the title of George Rogers Clark was made clear, but as he had died a few months previous to this his tract passed to his brother, General William Clark, of St. Louis,who had accompanied Meriwether Lewis on the noted Lewis and Clark Expedition.
A few years after, General William Clark came to the little town of Pekin accompanied by an Indian chief who had become a friend of his while on his Western trip.
In Jefferson's "Notes on Virginia," he speaks of a tribe of Indians called "Paducahs." In the "Handbook of American Indians" we find that the "Paducahs" belonged to the warlike Comanches, this being the name given them by the Spaniards. There is in Texas a small town of about one thousand five hundred inhabitants, named Paducah from this tribe of Indians.
Paducah, Kentucky, is named, not from the tribe, but from an individual Indian. In his diary of the Lewis and Clark Expedition, General William Clark speaks more than once of the kindness shown his party by a scattered branch of the Paducahs, and of how their chief became his friend. Dr. Catlin tells, in speaking of the tribes of the West, of a chief of the Mandans, Indians that often intermarried with the Comanches, named "Paducheyeh," meaning "tall or upstanding chestnut tree." Whether or not he was the one who became the friend of General Clark we do not know, but when the Comanches came southward, their old chief, called Paducah, went to St. Louis, and then came with General Clark on a visit to the town of Pekin, where he died with fever, and was buried near Third Street just beyond Tennessee.
A log cabin was placed around his grave, and pioneer residents have told of a party of Indians coming from beyond the Mississippi and holding ceremonies over Paducah's grave. These were Comanches, or to use their tribal name, Paducahs.
Whether the individual name of the old chief who had befriended General Clark was one of the many varied spellings of Paducah, or whether General Clark called him by his tribal name instead, we know not. Yet there was a real chief in recognition of whose kindness the "Pride of the Pennyrile" was named Paducah.
As travelers on the waters of "La Belle Rivière" pass between the historic town of Smithland and the unpretentious hamlet of Birdsville, few are aware that they are within a mile or two of the grave of a younger sister of the writer of our Magna Charta.
Though Lucy Jefferson Lewis was the sister of the man to whom we owe our American decimal coinage system, our statute for religious freedom, our Declaration of Independence, the University of Virginia, and the Democratic party; though she was the wife of Dr. Charles L. Lewis, brother of the noted Meriwether Lewis; and though she was blessed with wealth, culture, love, and family; yet to-day she sleeps in an unmarked grave in Livingston County.
Filled with enthusiasm for the then far West, the Lewis family, in 1808, ten years after Livingston County was formed, moved to Kentucky, purchased a tract of land about three miles from Smithland, and on a lonely, rocky hill overlooking the beautiful Ohio, raised their rooftree, and with their Virginia slaves, began a home in the wilderness.
Some say that Dr. Lewis came with his wife, children, and servants; others, that he did not come until eight or nine months after the family arrived. Be that as it may, all agree that he was unsociable and moody, and that he soon tired of his primitive abode and left, they supposed, for his former Virginia home. All alone with her children and servants in the Western wilds, is it any marvel that Lucy Jefferson Lewis should sigh for the happy home of her youth?
On a lonely, rocky promontory, where she could gaze far up the river, she would sit day after day, straining her eyes to see if there might be a "broadhorn" coming with news from her dearly beloved Virginia. If one was spied, a servant was at once sent out in a small boat to bring to her the long-wished-for papers. But this rare Virginia flower did not long survive transplantation, and in 1811 she was buried near her new home, with only a rough stone from the hillside to mark her last resting place.
Only a few short months afterward, there was enacted by two of her sons, Lilburn and Isham, a most revoltingtragedy. Then Lilburn died and it is said Isham, under an assumed name, entered the volunteer army and fell at the battle of New Orleans, January 8, 1815.
The other son and three daughters left on file, in the county clerk's office at Smithland, a writing dated August 29, 1814, conferring upon Thomas Jefferson the power of attorney to recover certain lands for them in Albemarle County, Virginia. They subsequently married, moved into other states, and nothing is left to mark the homestead but a pile of rocks. Three sunken places, overgrown with the wild wood, show the last resting place of Lucy Jefferson Lewis, her son Lilburn, and his wife, while the cold autumnal winds, sighing through the treetops, chant a sad requiem above the lonely, deserted spot.
Kentucky, rich in minerals, fertile soil, varied forests, and diversified products, is also a land where Nature has been lavish with her curiosities.
Some of the most important natural curiosities are the following: In Boone County there is Split Hill, where a deep zigzag path of great extent has been formed; in Breckinridge County there is Sinking Creek, a stream so large and powerful that it drives machinery the entire year; at a point about six miles from its source it disappears and shows no trace for more than five miles, when it reappears and flowsinto the Ohio. As early as 1847, a Mr. Huston utilized, for a mill erected on this stream, a natural dam of rock, eight feet in height and forty feet in width.
In Carter County there are also two smaller streams that flow for some distance underground. In the same county, in early days, there was an artesian well that threw up a jet, about the size of a barrel, to a height of four feet.
Christian County contains also some sinking streams, forks of Little River, beside Pilot Rock, which rests upon elevated ground, has a comparatively level summit, covers about one half acre of ground, and is about two hundred feet high. This county also contains a natural bridge, which crosses a deep ravine with an artistic arch of sixty feet, and is thirty feet in height.
Picturesque falls, ninety feet high, are found in Clinton County, while "Rock House," forty feet high and about sixty feet square, is located in Cumberland.
In Edmonson County, besides the wonderful Mammoth Cave, there is "Dismal Rock," almost perpendicular and one hundred and sixty-three feet high.
In Grant County, for many years an object of great curiosity, was an immense poplar tree, nine feet in diameter; it is said a man on horseback, after it lay prostrate, could barely touch the top of the trunk with the tips of his fingers.
A natural fortification, a circular tableland, from fifty to one hundred and twenty-five feet high, impossibleof ascent except in one place, is an object of great interest in Hancock County.
In Jessamine County, amid awful grandeur and gloom, the Devil's Pulpit is found, with a total elevation of three hundred feet.
In Lincoln County the Knobs, some with a base one hundred and fifty yards in diameter, two hundred feet high, and entirely destitute of vegetation, attract great attention.
Mantel Rock, or Natural Bridge, in Livingston County, in picturesqueness rivals the far-famed Natural Bridge of Virginia. This rock, resting against the hillside, is eight and three fourths feet thick and twenty feet wide; its arch spans two hundred and twenty feet. One of the paintings that attracted most attention in the Kentucky building at the St. Louis World's Fair was the artistic reproduction of this picturesque place by Mrs. Georgia McGrew Edwards.
In Lyon County, near Eddyville, 1848, several men explored a cavern for half a mile, where a large stream of water, an underground river, was found to be flowing.
About three miles from Benton, in Marshall County, on a high hill, there is a lake about sixty yards in diameter, whose depth is unknown; its waters neither rise nor fall, but stand about fifty feet above the bed of the creek below.
In Meade County, between Salt River and Sinking Creek, are several knobs and groves that the pioneers used as points of observation from which to detectthe movements of the Indian parties just after they crossed to the south side of the Ohio River.
Bardstown, in Nelson County, is built on an elevation under which is a natural tunnel, several feet in diameter, of circular form, reaching from the eastern to the western extremity of the eminence.
Owen County has several objects of interest, among them being Point of Rocks, about seventy-five feet high, overhanging Deep Hole, whose depth has never been ascertained.
In Rockcastle County, Bee Cliff rears its summit three hundred and fifty-five feet above the river; there are also a number of saltpeter caves where large quantities of saltpeter were manufactured during the War of 1812. The largest, called Great Saltpeter Cave, with its many rooms, some of which cover an area of several acres, with its subterranean river and weird grandeur, is a rival in all respects but size to the noted Mammoth Cave of Edmonson County. The Fall Cliffs, at some points three hundred feet in height, are unsurpassed in grandeur.
Among the places of interest in Union County there is, standing upon level bottom land, a rock two feet thick, twenty feet wide, and fifty feet high which, on account of its spur resembling the horn of an anvil, is called Anvil Rock. In the same county a large flat rock, deeply indented with impressions of the human foot of various sizes as well as the distinct footprints of the dog is found.
In Warren County, Wolf Sink, one hundred and fifty feet wide by three hundred feet long and in depth varying from twenty feet on the south side to one hundred and fifty feet on the north side, is an interesting place.
The Cumberland River in its passage through Whitley County has a perpendicular fall of more than sixty feet, forming Cumberland Falls, a picturesque cascade, the roar of which can be heard sometimes for more than twelve miles both above and below the cataract. Behind the sheet of falling water one can pass nearly across the river bed.
In Edmonson County, near Green River, was discovered in 1809, by a Mr. Hutchins, while in pursuit of a wounded bear, that matchless subterranean palace,—the Mammoth Cave.
It consists, not of one chamber, but of many magnificent rooms, winding avenues, towering domes, bottomless pits, picturesque cataracts, mystic rivers, gloomy seas, and crystal lakes, on five different levels. Geologists agree that this immense cavern was carved out of the limestone ages ago, by both the mechanical and chemical action of the water. Viewing the huge columns that have been formed by depositing the almost infinitesimal amount of lime dissolved fromthe rock, one stands in awe at the thought of the great span of time required for this marvelous work.
A view in the Mammoth Cave.A view in the Mammoth Cave.
Here no ray of sunshine lights up the darkness; here no sound breaks the silence; here no seasons come and go; here no living creature—save the torpid bat, the sluggish lizard, the silent cricket, the shy rabbit-like rat, and eyeless fish—exists.
Among the many picturesque spots in this cave are the Bridal Altar, formed of several pillars grouped into arches; the Old Arm Chair, in which Jenny Lind once sat and sang; the Giant's Coffin, a massive stone, forty feet long, twenty feet wide, and nine feet thick, that fell, ages ago, from above; Audubon Avenue; the Bat Chamber, where thousands of bats spend thewinter clinging to the ceiling, in most places smooth and white as if made by a master hand; the Devil's Arm Chair, a large stalagmite in which is a comfortable seat; Napoleon's Breast Works; Lover's Leap, and Gatewood's Dining Table; Fat Man's Misery, River Hall, and Bacon Chamber, the last looking like a part of a pork-packing house; the Dead Sea, the Corkscrew, the Holy Sepulcher, Martha Washington's Statue, Shelby's Dome; the rivers Lethe, Echo, and Styx; and last the Star Chamber, sixty feet wide, seventy feet high, and four hundred feet long. Here the guide leaves you in absolute darkness for a while, until from his vantage ground he so illuminates the high ceiling that when you look upward, the heavens seem studded with stars; a comet with its blazing tail appears, clouds cross over, midnight with its utter darkness comes, and finally day begins to dawn.
About two o'clock in the morning of December 16, 1811, the inhabitants of southwestern Kentucky, especially those in Fulton County, were aroused and alarmed by a most destructive earthquake shock that shook the Mississippi Valley throughout. It extended all along the Ohio beyond Pittsburgh, passed the Alleghenies, and died on the far-away coast of the Atlantic Ocean.
The first sign of the catastrophe was distant, rumbling sounds, succeeded by continued discharges as of unnumbered pieces of artillery. Then the earth rocked, chasms yawned, columns of coal, sand, and water shot up, while electric flashes, shooting through the otherwise impenetrable darkness, added horror to the scene. Twenty-seven distinct shocks were experienced before dawn. Then shock followed shock, the land was overshadowed by a dense, black cloud of vapor to which the light imparted a purplish tinge, but no sunbeam penetrated the pall that overhung all.
Lakes appeared where hills had been; elevations of land were found instead of lakes; the land in many places, miles in extent, was sunk below the level of the surrounding country. The current of the Mississippi was driven upstream for several hours, on account of an elevation in its bed; the waters boiled up in huge swells and violently tossed the boats thereon; sandbars gave way; huge trees crashed and disappeared in the maddening billows; the shores opened in wide fissures, closed, and threw huge jets of water, sand, and mud high above the treetops. The water of the river was changed to a reddish hue, thick with mud thrown up from its bottom, while the trembling surface was covered with huge masses of foam.
From this temporary barrier, made by the upheaval of the bottom and the sinking of the sandbars and banks, the river rose five or six feet in a few minutes; then the booming waters with redoubled fury rushedforward with resistless power and carried everything before them. Boats, with horror-struck crews, shot down the declivity "like arrows from the bow," and were overwhelmed or wrecked on snags, that had been thrown up from the bottom of the river, or were carried down in the vortexes. These shocks continued every day until December 21, and occasionally until February of the succeeding year.
It was during this extensive and exciting convulsion that Reelfoot Lake, in Fulton County, made its first appearance. This great and singular body of water was formed by sand, blown out of a chasm opened by the earthquake, damming the waters of a creek, which spread over the territory and formed a lake twenty feet deep, from three fourths to two and a half miles wide, and seventeen miles long. For many years the tops of immense trees could be seen in the water by boatmen as they hunted the waterfowls or cast line for the fish with which it abounds.
The young republic of the United States tried to follow the warning of Washington, "Friendship to all, entangling alliances with none." Although France had aided us in our struggle for independence, we remained neutral when war was carried on between her and England. Although it was said of our President, that he "could not be kicked into a fight," yet, when ourcommerce was well-nigh destroyed, our sailors taken from our vessels and forced to serve in the British navy, and our vessels fired upon by England's, we followed the policy of two of our most gifted Southern sons, Clay and Calhoun, and on June 18, 1812, again declared war against Great Britain.
When the call came for volunteers to aid the regular army, although Kentucky's quota was only five thousand five hundred men, from mountains and glens, from field and farm, from bench and bar, from every walk of life, came her best blood, seven thousand strong, volunteering their services to their country's cause.
When one thousand five hundred men were required to join General Hull in his expedition against the savages, in the Northwest, two thousand answered the call, only to learn, after crossing the Ohio, that Hull had cowardly surrendered his army and the whole of Michigan territory to the British, although his army numbered nearly double the enemy.
For several months, at various times and places, the Kentucky troops did special and efficient service. In January of the succeeding year, Colonel Lewis with from seven hundred to one thousand Kentuckians, marched against a combined force of British and Indians at Frenchtown on the river Raisin, and drove them from the village. Three days later, General Winchester was told that a large force of the enemy was on its way to attack the victors. As the night was bitter cold, the precaution of stationing picketswas neglected, and early the next morning, two thousand British and Indians under General Proctor suddenly attacked the camp. The Kentucky riflemen fought stubbornly for hours. Their ammunition ran low, but still they fought. Even when summoned to surrender they, Spartanlike, preferred death. But, being promised that their wounded would be safely guarded and humanely treated, they laid down their arms. History records how this promise on the part of Proctor was not kept, how the drunken Indians burned and tomahawked the helpless men and officers, until long afterward the rallying cry of the Kentuckians was, "Remember the river Raisin—Raisin and Revenge."
At Fort Stephenson, one hundred and sixty men under Colonel Croghan of Kentucky repulsed Proctor with nearly four thousand. When the idolized General Isaac Shelby went at the head of the Kentuckians, all felt that he would lead them to victory.
It is said that when Commodore Perry wrote, "We have met the enemy and they are ours," after his memorable victory on Lake Erie, that one hundred sharpshooters from Kentucky had aided in the capture.
At the battle of the Thames nearly all the American troops were Kentuckians, and that gallant soldier, Colonel Richard M. Johnson, did noble service in the killing of the noted Tecumseh. When Jackson, barricaded behind cotton bales at New Orleans, defeated Pakenham with his veteran forces, more than one fifth of the American soldiers were Kentucky riflemen.
Thomas F. Marshall.Thomas F. Marshall.
Richard H. Menefee.Richard H. Menefee.
Kentuckians, past and present, have ever been distinguished for their brilliant, persuasive oratory on the stump, at the bar, or in the forum.
Three of the most eloquent men our state claimed in the nineteenth century were Clay, Marshall, and Menefee.
Wherever Thomas F. Marshall, a native of Kentucky, lifted up his voice, he entranced all with his profound logic, flight of fancy, stinging satire, and beauty of language. Had his powers of self-control been as great as his genius, learning, and eloquence, no position in the dizzy heights would have been beyond his reach. But his brilliancy, his worth, and his work were all obscured by that dreadful blight, intemperance. Mr. Marshall's tribute to another orator and statesman, Richard H. Menefee, is pronounced by all to be one of the most graceful and eloquent passages in our literature.
Born in obscurity, rising rapidly by his own energy and eloquence, at twenty-three Menefee was the commonwealth'sattorney. At the bar his success was phenomenal. In the state legislature and in the United States Congress, where he served one term each, he, from the first, was recognized as a student and a statesman surpassed by none. His strength of character, his courage of conviction, his surpassing eloquence, brought praise from all. When at the height of fame, when men eagerly sought his counsel, and throngs hung upon his words, consumption closed his brief but brilliant life in his thirty-second year.
Among the volunteers that flocked to the support of Texas when she threw off the yoke of oppression there were many hundred Kentuckians. However, our state was not aggressive about the annexation of the new republic, which all saw might lead to war with Mexico.
After the annexation, General Zachary Taylor, an adopted Kentuckian, was sent with troops to protect Texas, and soon war began. When Kentucky called for thirty companies, one hundred and five were organized.
At Monterey some of our bravest fell, among them being Major Philip N. Barbour. General William O. Butler was among the number severely wounded. In honor of their bravery on this battlefield, the Kentucky legislature passed complimentary resolutions on the Louisville Legion, and presented swords to General Taylor, General Butler, and the widow of Major Barbour.
At the bloody battle of Buena Vista, where General Taylor had nearly five thousand men, one fifth of the troops were from Kentucky. The Mexicans had a force more than five times the number of the Americans, still the victory was ours. As the killed and wounded were eighteen per cent of the enlistment, Kentucky paid dearly for the glory won.
Among the fallen were Colonel William R. McKee, Lieutenant Colonel Henry Clay, oldest son of the great statesman Henry Clay, and Adjutant Vaughn.
When many, who had given their lives for the cause, were reinterred at Frankfort and a fitting monument was erected, on it was inscribed this quotation from the immortal elegy, "The Bivouac of the Dead," by our soldier-poet, Theodore O'Hara:
"The muffled drum's sad roll has beatThe soldier's last tattoo!No more on life's parade shall meetThat brave and fallen few;On Fame's eternal camping groundTheir silent tents are spread,And Glory guards, with solemn round,The bivouac of the dead."
"The muffled drum's sad roll has beatThe soldier's last tattoo!No more on life's parade shall meetThat brave and fallen few;On Fame's eternal camping groundTheir silent tents are spread,And Glory guards, with solemn round,The bivouac of the dead."
In Hanover County, Virginia, April 12, 1777, was born Henry Clay, the "Millboy of the Slashes," who in after years became the idol of our state, and one of the most notable figures in the entire Union.
Left fatherless at the age of five years, his teaching and training devolved upon his mother. So well did she perform her part that much of her illustrious son's greatness may rightfully be ascribed to maternal influence.
At the early age of twenty-one Henry Clay became a member of the bar at Lexington, and it was not long before his genius, his eloquence, and his versatile powers made for him a name that will ever endure.
The "Millboy of the Slashes."The "Millboy of the Slashes."
He served the state of his adoption in the lower house of the state legislature for several terms. Part of that time he was speaker of the house, in which position the zeal, energy, dignity, and decision characteristic of him distinguished his every act. Later he was elected representative tothe lower house of the United States Congress, was re-elected several times, and during the entire time was Speaker of the House, having received the very high and unusual compliment of being thus chosen on the first day he appeared as a member of that body.
He served as a valuable member of the commission which met at Ghent, Belgium, to arrange the treaty of peace between this country and Great Britain in 1814.
Henry Clay's Home, "Ashland."Henry Clay's Home, "Ashland."
He served with marked success in the United States Senate; his great genius, his high patriotism, his boundless energy, and fiery eloquence so swayed the people that more than once civil war for a time was averted, sections were reconciled, and he won the title of the "Great Pacificator."
Convinced of his duty, Henry Clay was conscientious in discharging it, and when he thus lost the highest office in the gift of the nation he uttered the memorable words, "I would rather be right than be President."
He did not need this office to confer honor on him; he would have conferred honor on the office.
His fame was world-wide. His service as a statesman, his power as an orator, his courage as an antagonist, his cogency of reasoning, his untiring efforts as a peacemaker, spread from ocean to ocean and even beyond the seas. When he was laid to rest at his beloved Ashland, high potentates, distinguished persons, and the great common people alike bowed their heads.
From Kentucky cabin homes came the two men who were destined to be the political leaders in the greatest conflict that ever shook our continent.
In 1808, Jefferson Davis, who became the President and idol of the Confederacy, first saw the light in that part of Christian County that was afterwards erected into Todd.
In 1809, Abraham Lincoln, the war President of the United States, was born in that part of Hardin County that afterwards became Larue.
The gifted Kentuckian, Henry Clay, had by his pacific measures postponed war, but it was not to be averted. When it came, our governor, Beriah Magoffin, attempted neutrality, and refused to raise troops for either army. From many homes, however, wentsoldiers to each side; friend was arrayed against friend, brother against brother, and father against son. The hour of patriotism, danger, and privation had come. When the first gun in the war was fired at Fort Sumter, South Carolina, a native Kentuckian, Major Robert Anderson of the United States army, commanded the garrison.
On our soil both Confederate and Federal forces were raised. Various towns were occupied and fortified by soldiers, at some places under the Stars and Bars, at other places under the Stars and Stripes.
The boys that wore the gray entered Kentucky and fortified themselves at Columbus and Hickman under Major General Leonidas Polk, and at Cumberland Gap under General Zollicoffer. The boys in blue, acting under orders from Brigadier General U.S. Grant, invaded the state at Paducah.
General Albert Sidney Johnston of Kentucky took command of the Confederate "Central Army of Kentucky," and under his orders General Simon B. Buckner fortified Bowling Green.
At Wildcat Mountain, near London, a bloody conflict took place, General Zollicoffer leading the Confederates, and Colonel T.T. Garrard and General Schoepff the Federals. The Confederates, being outnumbered, withdrew, after a loss to each side.
At Sacramento, Colonel Forrest defeated a company of Federals two days after Christmas, 1861.
Early the next year General Zollicoffer and GeneralGeorge B. Crittenden encountered General Thomas at Mill Springs; reënforcements came to the Federals, the gallant Zollicoffer fell, and the Confederates were forced to retreat.
At Big Hill, in Rockcastle County, the Federals were defeated; at Richmond the Confederates were again victorious, while at Munfordville they were repulsed.
At Augusta a bloody battle between Colonel Basil Duke's men and the home guards under Dr. Joshua T. Bradford resulted in another victory for the Confederates.
In the severe battle of Perryville, where 25,000 Federals, under General A. McCook, met 16,000 Confederates under General William J. Hardee, the Federal loss was more than four thousand and the Confederate, one thousand less. This was one of the most desperately contested battles of the war.