The railroad running east from Vicksburg connected that city with Jackson, the state capital, which was an important railway centre, and from which Vicksburg was supplied. Grant made his movements with great rapidity. He fought in quick succession a series of battles by which Jackson and several other towns were captured; then, turning westward, he attacked the forces of Pemberton, drove him back into Vicksburg, cut off his supplies, and laid siege to the place.
The eyes of the whole nation were now centred on Vicksburg. More than two hundred guns were brought to bear upon the place, besides the batteries of the gunboats. In default of mortars, guns were improvised by boring out tough logs, strongly bound with iron bands, which did good service. The people of Vicksburg took shelter in cellars and caves to escape the shot and shell. Food of all kinds became very scarce; flour was sold at five dollars a pound, molasses at twelve dollars a gallon. The endurance and devotion of the inhabitants were wonderful. But the siege was so rigidly and relentlessly maintained that there could be only one end. On July 3d, at ten o’clock, flags of truce were displayed on the works, and General Pemberton sent a message to Grant asking for an armistice, and proposing that commissioners should be appointed to arrange terms of capitulation.
On the afternoon of the same day, Grant and Pemberton met under an oak between the lines of the two armies and arranged the terms of surrender. It took three hours for the Confederate army to march out and stack their arms. There were surrendered 31,000 men, 250 cannon, and a great quantity of arms and munitions of war. But the moral advantage to the Union cause was far beyond any material gain. The fall of Vicksburg carried with it that of Port Hudson, a few miles below, which surrendered to Banks a few days later; and at last the great river was open from St. Louis to the sea.
The news of this great victory came to the North on the same day with that of Gettysburg, July 4, 1863. The rejoicing over the great triumph is indescribable. A heavy load was lifted from the minds of the President and his cabinet. The North took heart, and resolved again to prosecute the war with energy. The name of Grant was on every tongue. It was everywhere felt that he was the foremost man of the campaign. He was at once made a major-general in the regular army, and a gold medal was awarded him by Congress.
Grant’s next striking victory was at Chattanooga, an important railway centre in the valley of the Tennessee River, near where it enters Alabama. South of the town the slope of Lookout Mountain rises to a height of 2000 feet above sea-level. Two miles to the east rises Missionary Ridge, 500 feet high. Both Lookout Mountain and Missionary Ridge were occupied by the army of General Bragg, and his commanding position, strengthened by fortifications, was considered by him impregnable.
The disastrous battle of Chickamauga, in September, 1863, had left the Union armies in East Tennessee in a perilous situation. General Thomas, in Chattanooga, was hemmed in by the Confederate forces, his line of supplies was endangered, and his men and horses were almost starving. The army was on quarter rations. Ammunition was almost exhausted, and the troops were short of clothing. Thousands of army mules, worn out and starved, lay dead along the miry roads. Chattanooga, occupied by the Union army, was too strongly fortified for Bragg to take by storm, but every day shells from his batteries upon the heights were thrown into the town. This was the situation when Grant, stiff and sore from a recent accident, arrived at Nashville, on his way to direct the campaign in East Tennessee.
“Hold Chattanooga at all hazards. I will be there as soon as possible,” he telegraphed from Nashville to General Thomas. “We will hold the town until we starve,” was the brave reply.
Grant’s movements were rapid and decisive. He ordered the troops to be concentrated at Chattanooga; he fought a battle at Wauhatchie, in Lookout Valley, which broke Bragg’s hold on the river below Chattanooga and shortened the Union line of supplies; and by his prompt and vigorous preparation for effective action he soon had his troops lifted out of the demoralized condition in which they had sunk after the defeat of Chickamauga. One month after his arrival were fought the memorable battles of Lookout Mountain and Missionary Ridge, by which the Confederate troops were driven out of Tennessee, their hold on the country was broken up, and a large number of prisoners and guns were captured. Nothing in the history of war is more inspiring than the impetuous bravery with which the Union troops fought their way up the steep mountain sides, bristling with cannon, and drove the Confederate troops out of their works at the point of the bayonet. An officer of General Bragg’s staff afterward declared that they considered their position perfectly impregnable, and that when they saw the Union troops, after capturing their rifle-pits at the base, coming up the craggy mountain toward their headquarters, they could scarcely credit their eyes, and thought that every man of them must be drunk. History has no parallel for sublimity and picturesqueness of effect, while the consequences, which were the division of the Confederacy in the East, were inestimable.
After Grant’s success in Tennessee, the popular demand that he should be put at the head of all the armies became irresistible. In Virginia the magnificent Army of the Potomac, after two years of fighting, had been barely able to turn back from the North the tide of Confederate invasion, and was apparently as far as ever from capturing Richmond. In the West, on the other hand, Grant’s armies had won victory after victory, had driven the opposing forces out of Kentucky and Tennessee, had taken Vicksburg, opened up the Mississippi, and divided the Confederacy in both the West and the East. In response to the call for Grant, Congress revived the grade of lieutenant-general, which had been held by only one commander, Scott, since the time of Washington; and the hero of Fort Donelson, Vicksburg, and Chattanooga was nominated to this rank by the President, confirmed by the Senate, and placed in command of all the armies of the nation.
The relief of President Lincoln at having such a man in command was very great. “Grant is the first general I’ve had,” he remarked to a friend. “You know how it has been with all the rest. As soon as I put a man in command of the army, he would come to me with a plan, and about as much as say, ‘Now, I don’t believe I can do it, but if you say so I’ll try it on,’ and so put the responsibility of success or failure upon me. They all wanted me to be the general. Now, it isn’t so with Grant. He hasn’t told me what his plans are. I don’t know, and I don’t want to know. I am glad to find a man who can go ahead without me.”
Never were the persistent courage, the determined purpose, which formed the foundation of Grant’s character, more clearly brought out than in the Virginia campaign of 1864, in which he commanded; and never were they more needed. Well did he know that no single triumph, however brilliant, would suffice. He saw plainly that nothing but “hammering away” would avail. The stone wall of the Confederacy had too broad and firm a base to be suddenly overturned; it had to be slowly reduced to powder.
During the anxious days which followed the battle of the Wilderness, Frank B. Carpenter, the artist, relates that he asked President Lincoln, “How does Grant impress you as compared with other generals?”
“The great thing about him,” said the President, “is cool persistency of purpose. He is not easily excited, and he has the grip of a bull-dog. When he once gets his teeth in, nothing can shake him off.”
His great opponent, Lee, saw and felt the same quality. When, after days of indecisive battle, the fighting in the Wilderness came to a pause, it was believed in the Confederate lines that the Union troops were falling back. General Gordon said to Lee,—
“I think there is no doubt that Grant is retreating.”
The Confederate chief knew better. He shook his head.
“You are mistaken,” he replied earnestly,—“quite mistaken. Grant is not retreating; he is not a retreating man.”
The battles of Spottsylvania and North Anna followed, and then came the disastrous affair at Cold Harbor. Then Grant changed his base to James river and attacked Petersburg. Slowly but surely the Union lines closed in. “Falling back” on the Union side had gone out of fashion. South or North, all could see that now a steady resistless force was back of the Union armies, pushing them ever on toward Richmond.
Grant’s losses in the final campaign were heavy, but Lee’s slender resources were wrecked in a much more serious proportion; and for the Confederates no recruiting was possible. Their dead, who lay so thickly beneath the fields, were the children of the soil, and there were none to replace them. In some cases whole families were destroyed; but the survivors still fought on. In the Confederate lines around Petersburg there was often absolute destitution. An officer who was there testified, shortly after the end of the struggle, that every cat and dog for miles around had been caught and eaten. Grant was pressing onward; Sherman’s march through Georgia and the Carolinas had proved that the Confederacy was an egg-shell; Sheridan’s splendid cavalry was ever hovering round the last defenders of the bars and stripes. Grant saw that all was over, and on April 7, 1865, he wrote that memorable letter calling upon Lee to surrender and bring the war to an end. Lee, whose army was cut off beyond possibility of escape, was obliged to consent, and the terrible four years’ conflict ceased.
We have told the chief incidents in the career as a soldier of the great Union general; we have now to deal with that of his equally great opponent in the final year of the war, the brilliant commander of the Confederate forces, General Robert E. Lee.
Of all the men whose character and ability were developed in the Civil War, there was perhaps not one in either army whose greatness is more generally acknowledged than that of the man just named. His ability as a soldier and his character as a man are alike appreciated; and while it is natural that men of the North should be unwilling to condone his taking up arms against the government, yet that has not prevented their doing full justice to his greatness. It is not too much to say that General Lee is recognized, both North and South, as one of the greatest soldiers, and one of the ablest and purest men, that America has produced.
Lee, like Grant, was a graduate of West Point and had seen service in the Mexican war, in which he won high honor. It was he who, when John Brown made his raid against Harper’s Ferry, was despatched with a body of troops for his capture. The raiders had entrenched themselves in the engine house of the arsenal, but Lee quickly battered down the door, captured them, and turned them over to the civil authorities.
Lee, the son of “Light Horse Harry Lee,” a famous general of the Revolutionary War, cherished an attachment to the Union which his father had helped him to form, and at the breaking out of the Civil War was in great doubt as to what course he should take. He disapproved of secession, but was thoroughly pervaded with the idea of loyalty to his state,—an idea which was almost universal in the South, though not entertained by the people of the North. He had great difficulty in arriving at a decision; but when at last Virginia adopted an ordinance of secession, he resigned his commission in the United States army. Writing to his sister, he said, “Though I recognize no necessity for this state of things, and would have forborne and pleaded to the end for redress of grievances, yet in my own person I had to meet the question whether I should take part against my native state. With all my devotion to the Union, and the feeling of loyalty and duty as an American citizen, I have not been able to make up my mind to raise my hand against my relatives, my children, my home. I have therefore resigned my commission in the army, and, save in defence of my native state, I hope I may never be called upon to draw my sword.”
It was not a case in which a soldier who believed in state supremacy could long hesitate. Virginia was invaded, and Lee drew his sword “in defence of his native state,” his first service being as brigadier-general in Northwestern Virginia, where he was opposed to General Rosecrans. Here no important battle was fought, and in the latter part of 1861 he was sent to the coast of North Carolina, where he planned the defences which were held good against Union attack until the last year of the war. After the wounding of General J. E. Johnston at Fair Oaks, Lee was called to the command of the forces at Richmond, and on June 3, 1862, took charge of the army defending the Confederate capital.
The task before him was no light one. McClellan lay before Richmond with a powerful and well-appointed army, and that city was in considerable danger of capture. But the generals opposed to each other were of very different calibre. McClellan was of the cautious and deliberate order; Lee was one of those ready to dare all “on the hazard of a die.” On June 26th he made a vigorous assault on the Union army, and continued it with unceasing persistence day after day for six days, driving McClellan and his men steadily backward. On the final day, July 1st, the Union army, strongly posted on Malvern Hill, defeated Lee, who suffered heavy loss. But McClellan continued to retreat until the James River was reached and the siege of Richmond abandoned.
A few months passed, and then, with a sudden and rapid sweep north, Lee fell upon the large army which had been gathered under General Pope, on the old battlefield of Bull Run. Here a terrible struggle took place, ending in the disastrous defeat of Pope. In this bloody battle the Unionists lost 25,000 men, of whom 9,000 were made prisoners. The Confederates lost about 15,000. As the defeated army had fallen back on Washington, that city was safe against assault, and on September 4th, with another of his brilliant and rapid movements, Lee marched his army into Maryland, hoping that this State would rise in his support.
He was disappointed in this; the Marylanders proved staunch for the Union; but one great advantage was gained in the capture of Harper’s Ferry by Stonewall Jackson, with nearly 12,000 prisoners and immense quantities of munitions of war. It was a bloodless victory, as valuable in its results for the Confederacy as had been the sanguinary battle of Bull Run. A few days later, on September 17th, the two late opponents, McClellan and Lee, met in conflict at Antietam, in the most bloody battle, for the numbers engaged, of the war. Lee had taken a dangerous risk in weakening his army to despatch Jackson against Harper’s Ferry. But the alert Jackson was back again, and the Confederates had 70,000 men to oppose to the 80,000 under McClellan. The result was in a measure a drawn battle, but Lee was so severely handled that he did not deem it safe to wait for a renewal of the conflict, and withdrew across the Potomac. The failure of McClellan to pursue with energy brought his career to an end. He was removed from command by the government and replaced by General Burnside.
It cannot be said that the change of commanders was a successful one. Burnside attacked the vigilant Lee at Fredericksburg, on December 13th, and met with one of the most disastrous defeats of the war, losing nearly 14,000 men to a Confederate loss of 5,000. General Hooker, who succeeded him, met with a similar defeat. Supplied with a splendid army, over 100,000 strong, he attacked Lee at Chancellorsville on May 3, 1863, and met with a terrible repulse, through a brilliant flank movement executed by Stonewall Jackson, losing over 17,000 men. The Confederates had a loss, not less severe, this being the death of Jackson, their most brilliant leader after Lee.
His great successes at Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville led Lee to venture upon a daring but dangerous movement, an invasion of the North; one which, if successful, might have placed Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Washington in his hands, but which, if unsuccessful, would leave him in a very critical position.
It was, as all readers know, unsuccessful. General Meade, who replaced Hooker in command, followed the Confederates north with the utmost haste, and placed himself across their path at Gettysburg, in western Pennsylvania. On July 1st, the advance columns of the two armies met, and engaged in a preliminary struggle, which ended in a repulse of the Union forces. These fell back and took up a strong position on Cemetery Ridge, where during the night they were strongly reinforced by the troops hurrying up from the south. During the next two days the Union army fought on the defensive, Lee making vigorous onslaughts upon it and fighting desperately but unsuccessfully to break Meade’s line or seize some commanding point. The Union Victory at GettysburgThe end of this fierce struggle—which is ranked among the decisive battles of the world—came on the 3d, when Lee launched a powerful column, 15,000 strong, under General Pickett, against the Union centre. It ended in a repulse, almost an annihilation, of the charging force, and the great battle was at an end. The next day Lee retreated. He had lost in all about 30,000 men. The Union loss aggregated about 23,000.
The 4th of July, 1863, was in its way as great a day for the American Union as the 4th of July, 1776, for it was the great turning point in the war. On this day Grant took possession of Vicksburg, with 30,000 prisoners, and cut the Confederacy in two. And on the same day Lee began his retreat, disastrously beaten in his last act of offensive warfare. During the remainder of his career he was to stand on the defence, until driven to bay and forced to surrender by the hammer-like blows of “Unconditional surrender Grant.”
But while brilliant in offensive war, Lee was in his true element in defence, and never has greater skill and ability, or more indomitable resistance, been shown than in his struggle against his vigorous adversary. Grant was appointed commander-in-chief of the Union armies, on March 1, 1864. Having sent Sherman to conduct a campaign in the South, he himself, on May 4 and 5, crossed the Rapidan River for a direct advance on Richmond. A campaign of forty-three days followed, in which more than 100,000 men, frequently reinforced, were engaged on either side. Grant came first into encounter with Lee in the Wilderness, near the scene of Hooker’s defeat a year before. Here, after two days of terrible slaughter, the battle ended without decided advantage to either side, though the Union loss was double that of the Confederates.
Finding Lee’s position impregnable, Grant advanced by a flank movement to Spottsylvania Court House. Here, on May 11th, Hancock, by a desperate assault, captured Generals Johnson and E.H. Stewart, with 3000 men and 30 guns, while Lee himself barely escaped. But no fighting, however desperate, could carry Lee’s works. Sheridan with his cavalry now made a dashing raid toward Richmond. He fought the Confederate cavalry, killed their ablest general, J. E. B. Stuart, and returned, having suffered little damage, to Grant. On May 17th, Grant, having executed another flank movement, reached the North Anna River. But Lee had fallen back with his usual celerity, and the advancing army found itself again in face of strong entrenchments. As a vigorous attack failed to carry Lee’s works, Grant made a third flank march, which brought him to the vicinity of Richmond.
Here once more he found his indefatigable opponent in his front, very strongly posted at Cold Harbor. Grant, perhaps incensed at seeing this man always blocking up his road, hurled his tried troops upon the impregnable works of the enemy. It was a vain effort, leading only to dreadful slaughter. The Unionists lost in this hopeless affair over 10,000 in killed and wounded, while the Confederates escaped practically without loss.
Grant now executed the most promising of his flank movements. He secretly crossed the James River about June 15th and made a dash on Petersburg, hoping to seize the railroads leading south and to cut the line of supply of Richmond. But unforeseen delays and strong resistance enabled Lee to throw a force of his veterans into the town, and the movement failed. And now for months it was a question of attack and defence. Both sides threw up entrenchments of enormous strength, and the following fall and winter were occupied in an incessant artillery duel, marked by a few assaults, which had little effect other than that of loss of life.
But during all this time Lee’s army was weakening, while that of Grant was kept in full strength. At the end of March, 1865, the final events of the great struggle were at hand. Grant sent Warren and Sheridan to the south of Petersburg, to cut the Danville and Southside Railroads, Lee’s avenues of supply. On April 1st the Confederate right wing was encountered and defeated at Five Forks, and on the following day the whole line of works defending Petersburg was successfully assailed.
Richmond could no longer be held. Lee evacuated it that night, and retreated towards Danville with about 35,000 men. But the Union cavalry under Sheridan pursued with such celerity that escape was cut off, and the Confederates were surrounded at Appomattox Court House, and forced to surrender on April 9, 1865.
Lee had made for himself a world-wide reputation. While the bulldog persistence of Grant had enabled him to crush army after army of the Confederacy, Lee had shown himself one of the most brilliant of generals, successful in all his assaults except at Gettysburg, and almost without a peer in defensive warfare. Only the utter exhaustion of the country behind him and the slow grinding of his army into fragments brought final success to his opponents.
We can only refer briefly to the careers of some of the abler subordinate commanders in the war. First among them was Sherman, whose exploits in great measure place him on a level with Grant and Lee. In truth, there was no more brilliant operation in the entire war than his famous “March through Georgia.”
This striking event was the culmination of a series of successful battles and flank movements, by which Johnston was gradually forced back from Chattanooga to Atlanta. Here the able Johnston was removed and replaced by the dashing but reckless Hood, who attacked Sherman fiercely, but only to meet a disastrous repulse. A final flank movement, which cut off Hood’s sources of supply, forced him to evacuate Atlanta, which Sherman occupied on September 1, 1864. It was the most brilliant success of the year, and Sherman became the hero of the hour. Hood, finding that he could do nothing there, made a dash into Tennessee, hoping to draw Sherman after him for the defence of Nashville.
Sherman had no intention of doing anything of the kind. The removal of Hood from his vicinity was just what he wanted, and he remarked in a chuckling tone, “If Hood will go to Tennessee I will be glad to furnish him with rations for the trip.” What he had in view was something very different; namely, to abandon his long line of supplies, march across Georgia to Savannah, nearly three hundred miles away, and live upon the country as he went, while destroying one of the richest sources of Confederate supply.
The Confederate generals did not dream of a movement of such unusual boldness, and left the field clear for Sherman’s march. For a month he and his men simply disappeared. No one knew where they were, or if they were not annihilated. They had plunged into the heart of the Confederacy, far away from all means of communication, and the people of the North could only wait and hope. “I know which hole he went in at,” said Lincoln to anxious inquirers, “but I know no more than you at which hole he will come out.”
He came out at Savannah. He had cut a great swath, thirty miles wide, through Georgia, his soldiers living off the country and rendering it incapable of furnishing supplies for the Confederate armies, and on December 23d he sent Lincoln a despatch that carried joy throughout the North: “I beg to present you as a Christmas gift the city of Savannah, with one hundred and fifty guns and plenty of ammunition, and about twenty-five thousand bales of cotton.”
The remainder of Sherman’s movement may be briefly told. Marching northward, he took Charleston, which had so long defied Union assault, without a shot. Reaching North Carolina, he found himself opposed again to Johnston, but before much fighting took place the news of Lee’s surrender came, and nothing was left for Johnston except to yield up his force. Meanwhile, Thomas, who had saved the army at Chickamauga, hurried to Nashville to meet the hard-fighting Hood, and there defeated him so utterly and dispersed his army so completely that it never came together again.
There is only one further exploit of the Union generals that calls here for special mention, that of Sheridan’s famous ride. In 1864 Lee sent General Early with 20,000 men to the Shenandoah Valley, recently cleared of its defenders, the purpose being to threaten Washington and possibly oblige Grant to weaken his forces for its defence. Success attended Early’s movement. He invaded Maryland, defeated Lew Wallace near Frederick, and reached the suburbs of Washington, which an immediate attack might have placed in his hands. Not venturing, however, to attack the capital, he soon returned, with large spoils in horses and cattle, to the Valley, where he defeated General Crook at Winchester.
In one respect this movement had failed. Grant was not induced to weaken his forces to any important extent. Had it been Stonewall Jackson in the Valley it might have been different, but he contented himself with sending Sheridan to take care of Early. Sheridan bided his time, despite the growing impatience in the country. Grant visited him, intending to propose a plan of operations, but he found that Sheridan was in full touch with the situation, and left him to his own devices.
At length, in September, Early incautiously divided his command, and Sheridan, who was closely on the watch, attacked him, flanked him right and left, broke his lines in every direction, and sent him, as he telegraphed to Washington, “Whirling through Winchester.” “I have never since deemed it necessary to visit General Sheridan before giving him orders,” said Grant afterwards. Sheridan again attacked and defeated Early at Fisher’s Hill, driving him out of the valley and into the gaps of the Blue Ridge.
Sometime afterwards took place the most famous event in Sheridan’s career. During an absence at Washington his camp at Cedar Creek was surprised by Early, the men were driven back in disorderly rout, and eighteen guns and nearly a thousand prisoners were lost. Sheridan, on his way back from the capital, had stopped for the night at Winchester. On his way to the front the next morning the sound of distant guns came to his ears. Perceiving that a battle was in progress, he rode forward at full speed. Soon he began to meet frightened fugitives, and guessed what had happened. Taking off his hat, he swung it in the air as he dashed onward at a gallop, shouting, “Face the other way, boys; face the other way. We’re going back to lick them out of their boots!”
His words were electrical. The fugitives did “face the other way.” As he came nearer and met the retreating companies and regiments, he rallied them with the same inspiring cry. The men turned back. The Confederates, who were rifling their camp, were astounded to find a routed army charging upon them. Dismay spread through their ranks, they were thrown into disorder, and were soon in full flight, having lost all the captured guns and twenty-four more, with a heavy loss in killed, wounded, and prisoners. Since that day “Sheridan’s ride” has been celebrated in song and story as the most dramatic incident of the war.
We have told some of the exciting events of the conflict from the Union side. The Confederates also had their dashing generals and thrilling deeds of valor. But this chapter is already so extended that we must confine ourselves to an account of but one in addition to Lee, the renowned Stonewall Jackson. It is well known how Thomas J. Jackson got this title of honor. In the battle of Bull Run his men stood so firm amid the disordered fragments of other corps, that General Bee called attention to them: “Look at those Virginians! They stand like a stone wall.” The title of “Stonewall” clung to their leader until his death. His most famous work was done in the Shenandoah Valley. In March, 1862, he retreated before Banks some forty miles, then suddenly turned and with only 3,500 men drove him back in dismay. But his most brilliant exploit was in April, when he whipped Milroy, Banks, Shields, and Fremont, one after another, in the Valley, and then suddenly turned, marched to Lee’s aid, and helped to defeat McClellan at Gaines’s Mills, the first victory in the memorable six days’ fight.
In August, 1862, he drove Pope back from the Rappahannock, and by stubborn fighting held him fast until Longstreet could get up to aid in the victory of the second Bull Run. We have told of his striking exploit at Harper’s Ferry, and how he won the day at Chancellorsville. Here he was wounded by a mistaken volley from his own men, was soon after attacked with pneumonia, and died on May 10, 1863. Thus fell the ablest man, after Lee, that the great contest developed on the Confederate side.
The relation of the American people to the Indians, since the first settlement of this country, has been one of conflict, which has been almost incessant in some sections of the land. By the opening of the nineteenth century the red men had been driven back in great measure from the thirteen original states, but the tribes in the west were still frequently hostile, and stood sternly in the way of our progress westward. We propose in this chapter to describe the various relations, both peaceful and warlike, which have existed between the whites and the red men during the century with which we are here concerned.
The close of the Revolutionary War brought only a partial cessation of the Indian warfare. The red man was by no means disposed to give up his country without a struggle, and throughout the interior, in what is now Indiana, Illinois, and Wisconsin, and along the Ohio River, there were constant outbreaks, and battles of great severity. The conflict in Indiana brought forward the services of a young lieutenant, William Henry Harrison, who for many years had much to do with Indians, both as military officer and as governor of the Indian territory. In 1811 appeared one of those great Indian chiefs whose abilities and influence are well worth attention and study. Tecumseh, a mighty warrior of mixed Creek and Shawnee blood, was one who dreamt the dream of freeing his people. With eloquence and courage he urged them on, by skill he combined the tribes in a new alliance, and, encouraged by British influence, he looked forward to a great success. While he was seeking to draw the Southern Indians into his scheme, his brother rashly joined battle with General Harrison, and was utterly defeated in the fight which gained for Harrison the title of Old Tippecanoe. Disappointed and disheartened at this destruction of his life-work, Tecumseh threw all his great influence on the British side in the War of 1812, in which he dealt much destruction to the United States troops. At Sandusky and Detroit and Chicago, and at other less important forts, the Indian power was severely felt; but at Terre Haute the young captain Zachary Taylor met the savages with such courage and readiness of resources that they were finally repulsed. But rarely did a similar good fortune befall our troops; and it was not until after Commodore Perry won victory for us at Lake Erie, that Tecumseh himself was killed, and the twenty-five hundred Indians of his force were finally scattered, in the great fight of the Thames River, where our troops were commanded by William Henry Harrison and Richard M. Johnson, afterward President and Vice-President of the United States. For a little time the Northwest had peace. But in the South the warfare was not over. Tecumseh had stirred up the Creeks and Seminoles against the whites, and throughout Alabama, Georgia, and Northern Florida the Creek War raged with all its horrid accompaniments until 1814; even the redoubtable Andrew Jackson could not conquer the brave Creeks until they were almost exterminated, and then a small remnant remained in the swamps of Florida to be heard of at a later time.
Before the new government of the United States was fully upon its feet it recognized the necessity and duty of caring for its Indian population. In 1775, a year before the Declaration of Independence, the Continental Congress divided the Indians into three departments, northern, middle and southern, each under the care of three or more commissioners, among whom we find no less personages than Oliver Wolcott, Philip Schuyler, Patrick Henry and Benjamin Franklin. As early as 1832 the young nation found itself confronted with a serious Indian problem, created a separate bureau for the charge of the red men, and inaugurated a definite policy of treatment. Speaking in general, we have altered this policy three times. As a matter of fact, we have altered its details, changed its plans, and adopted new methods of management as often as changing administrations have changed the administrators of our Indian affairs. But in the large, there have been three great steps in our Indian policy, and these have to some extent grown out of our changing conditions. The first plan was that of the reservations. Under that system, as the Indian land was wanted by the white population, the red man was removed across the Mississippi and pushed step by step still further west; and as time went on and the population followed hard after, he was eventually confined to designated tracts. Government PolicyYet despite the fact that these tracts were absolutely guaranteed to him, he was driven off them again and again as the farmer or the miner demanded the land. In time a new policy was attempted, or rather an old policy was revived, that of concentrating the whole body of Indians into one state or territory, but the obvious impossibility of that scheme soon brought it to an end. Less than thirty years ago the present plan took its place, that of education and eventual absorption.
In 1830 the country seemed to stretch beyond any possible need of the young nation, lusty as it was, and the wide wilderness of the Rocky Mountains promised to furnish hunting grounds for all time. The Mississippi Valley and the Northwest were still unsettled, but in the South the Five Nations were greatly in the way of their white neighbors, and the work of the removal of the latter beyond the Mississippi was begun. Under President Monroe several treaties were made with those tribes—the Creeks, Cherokees, Choctaws, Chickasaws and Seminoles—by which, one after another, they ceded their lands to the government, and took in exchange the country now known as the Indian Territory. They were already somewhat advanced in civilization, with leaders combining in blood and brain the Indian astuteness and the white man’s experience and education. John Ross, a half-breed chief of the Cherokees, of unusual ability, brought about the removal under conditions more favorable than often occurred. He was bitterly opposed by full half the Indians, and it was not without sufferings and losses of more than one kind that the great southern league was removed to the fair and fertile land set aside for them in the far-off West. It was owing to the sagacity of John Ross and his associates that this land was secured to them, in a way in which no other land has ever been secured to an Indian tribe. They hold it to-day by patent, as secure in the sight of the law as an old Dutch manor house or a Virginia plantation, and all the learning of the highest tribunals has not yet found the way to evade or disregard these solemn obligations. To these men, too, and to the missionaries who long taught their tribes, do they owe an effective form of civilization, and a governmental polity which preserves for them alone, among all the red men, the title and the state of nations. War with the SeminolesThe Seminoles, who were of the Creek blood, were divided, some of them going west with their brethren, the larger number of them remaining in Florida. With these—about 4,000 in all—under their young and able chief, Osceola, the government fought a seven years’ war, costing many lives and forty millions in money, and did not then succeed in removing all the Seminoles from their much-loved home.
A similar state of affairs attended the removals in the north. The savages bitterly opposed giving up their native soil, there being in every case two parties in the tribe, one that sorrowfully yielded to the necessity of submission, and one that indulged in the hopeless dream of successful resistance. Thus the Sac and Fox tribe of Wisconsin was divided, and although Keokuk and one band went peaceably to their new home among the Iowas, Black Hawk and his followers were slow to depart, and were removed by force. The Indian Department failed to furnish corn enough for the new settlement, and, going to seek it among the Winnebagoes, the Indians came into collision with the government. Thereafter ensued a series of misunderstandings, and consequent fights, resulting in great alarm among the whites and destruction to the Indians. The story is the same story, almost to details, that has been frequently seen since that time. After the fashion above described all the removals have proceeded, the cause ever the same, the white man’s greed and the ferocity of the wronged and infuriated savage.
It is useless and impossible to give the details of all the various tribes that have been pushed about in the manner described. In 1830 the East was already crowding toward the West, and every succeeding decade saw the frontier moved onward with giant strides. Everywhere the Indian was an undesirable neighbor, and when, in 1849, the discovery of gold began to create a new nation on the Pacific slope, a pressure began from that side also, and the intervening deserts became a thoroughfare for the pilgrims of fortune and the lovers of adventure. From year to year the United States made fresh treaties with the tribes; those in the East were gone already, those in the interior were following fast, and there had arisen the new necessity of dealing with those in the far West. One tribe after another would be planted on a reservation millions of acres in extent and apparently far beyond the home of civilization, and almost in a twelvemonth the settler would be upon its border, demanding its broad acres. The reservations were altered, reduced, taken away altogether, at the pleasure of the government, with little regard to the rights or wishes of the Indian. Usually this brought about fighting, and it produced a state of permanent discontent that wrought harm for both settler and savage. The Indian grew daily more and more treacherous and constantly more cruel. The white settler was daily in greater danger, and constantly more eager for revenge.
A new complication entered into the problem. The game was fast disappearing, and with it the subsistence of the Indian. It became necessary for the government to furnish rations and clothes, lest he should starve and freeze. Cheating was the rule and deception the every-day experience of these savages. In 1795 General Wayne gained the nickname of General To-morrow, so slow was the government to fulfill his promises; and thus for more than a hundred years it was to-morrow for the Indian. Exasperated beyond endurance, he was ever ready to retaliate, and the horrors of an Indian war constantly hung over the pioneer. During all this period we treated the Indian tribes as if they were foreign nations, and made solemn treaties with them, agreeing to furnish them rations or marking the reservation bounds. We have made more than a thousand of these treaties, and General Sherman is the authority for the statement that we have broken every one of them. Day by day the gluttonous idleness, the loss of hope, the sense of wrong, and the bitter feeling of contempt united to degrade the red man as well as to madden him.