Zachary, the third son, followed the business of farming until he was

more than twenty-three years of age. During his childhood he received

such an education as you can imagine in a new and wild country like

Kentucky sixty years ago. However, it is said his father took great

pains with his education, and he enjoyed the instruction of a

schoolmaster from Connecticut, who is still living. Hence it is plain

the best part of his education must have come, not from the

schoolmaster, but from the farm, the woods, and the connection with his

parents and their associates. What a man learns at school, even in

Boston, is but a small part of his education. In General Taylor's case,

it is probable that things had much more to do with his culture than

words. Men nursed on Greek and Latin would probably have called him an

uneducated man; with equal justice he might call many a scholar an

uneducated man. To speak and write with grammatical accuracy is by no

means the best test of education.

Fondness for a military life is natural in a man born and bred as he

was, living in a country where the vicinity of the Indians made every

man a Quaker or a soldier.

About 1808, volunteers were raised in the West to oppose the expected

movements of Aaron Burr, a traitor to his country, a bold, bad man, who

had been the candidate of the federalists for the Presidency; perhaps

the worst man we had had in politics up to that time. Mr. Taylor joined

one of the companies of volunteers. In 1808 he was appointed Lieutenant

in the army of the United States, joined the forces, was soon sent to

New Orleans, was seized with the yellow fever, and returned home.

In 1810 he was married to Miss Margaret Smith, of Maryland.

In 1811 he was employed in expeditions against the Indians in the

Northwest of the United States. Here he was under the command of General

Harrison.

In 1812 he was made Captain, and had the command of a block-house and

stockade called Fort Harrison, on the Wabash river, soon after the

declaration of war against England. This place was attacked by a strong

body of Indians. Captain Taylor with less than fifty men, defended it

with vigor and success. In consequence of his services on that occasion,

he was promoted to the rank of Brevet Major. During the rest of the war,

he continued in service on the frontiers, and seems to have done his

duty faithfully as a soldier.

After the war was over, in 1815, the army was diminished to a peace

establishment, and Major Taylor reduced to the rank of Captain. In

consequence of this, he withdrew from the army, but, after a few months,

returned, and was then, or subsequently, restored to his former rank as

Major. For several years he was employed in such various military

services, in the west and south-west, as must be performed in a time of

peace. In 1819 he was made Lieutenant-Colonel. In 1832 he became

Colonel, and in that year, with a command of four hundred men, he served

under General Atkinson, in the expedition against the Sacs and other

Indians led by the celebrated Black Hawk. Afterwards he was intrusted

with the command of Fort Crawford, where he remained till 1836, when he

was ordered to Florida, to fight against the Seminole Indians.

It was here that he made use of the bloodhounds to hunt the poor savages

from their hiding-places in the woods. You know what Mr. Pitt once said

of the Spanish use of this weapon in the sixteenth century, but the

animals imported from Cuba, where they had been trained to hunt runaway

slaves, were of no value when put upon the track of red men. I do not

know who originated the scheme of employing the bloodhounds. It has

often been ascribed to General Taylor, and with good reason, I believe,

has it been denied that he was the author of that plan. It was of no

great honor to the nation, let who would invent it; and few men will be

sorry that it did not turn out well.

It was thought Colonel Taylor displayed a good deal of skill, in

contending with the Indians in Florida, and, accordingly, he was made

Brevet Brigadier-General, in 1838. After finishing the conquest of the

Indians, he left Florida, in 1840. It is said that fighting against the

Indians is a good school for a soldier. General Taylor served long at

this work, and served faithfully. In the Florida war, his conduct as

General is said to have been noble.

In 1840, he was made Commander of that portion of the American army in

the south-west of the United States, and in 1841, removed his family

from Kentucky to Baton Rouge, in Louisiana, which has since been his

home. In 1845 he was ordered to Texas, and had command of the "Army of

Occupation," and subsequently of the "Army of Invasion." In the war

against Mexico, it is thought by competent judges that he displayed a

good deal of military skill. He was beloved by his soldiers, and seems

to have won their confidence, partly by success, partly by military

talent, but also in part by his character, which was frank, honest, just

and unpretending. I have heard of no instance in the whole war, in which

cruelty is chargeable upon him. Several anecdotes are related of his

kindliness, generosity, and openness of heart. No doubt they are true.

War is a bloody trade; it makes one shudder to think of it in its

terrible details; but the soldier is not necessarily a malignant or a

cruel man; that bloody and profane command, so well known, uttered in

the heat of conflict, when the battle seemed to waver, does not imply

any peculiar cruelty or ill-will. It is only one of the accidents of

war, which shows more clearly what its substance is.

I am no judge of warlike operations and of military skill, and therefore

shall not pretend to pass judgment on matters which I know I do not

understand; I shall not inquire as to the military value of the laurels

he won at Resaca de la Palma, at Monterey, and at Buena Vista. But, in

our judgment, we ought to remember one circumstance: that is, the

inferiority of the Mexicans. They were beaten, I think, in every

considerable battle throughout the whole war; no matter who commanded.

General Scott landed at Vera Cruz, captured the city, and the far-famed

Castle of St. Juan d'Ulloa, garrisoned by four thousand three hundred

and ninety soldiers, and the American loss amounted to thirteen men

killed, and sixty-three hurt! General Scott took possession of the great

port of the nation, with less than twenty thousand soldiers, with only

about fifteen thousand troops; marched nearly two hundred miles into the

interior, fighting his way, and garrisoning the road behind him,

sometimes even subsisting his army in the country which he conquered as

he went on; and finally took the capital, a city with nearly two hundred

thousand inhabitants, with less than six thousand soldiers. Suppose an

army of that size were to land at Newburyport, with the intention of

marching to Worcester, not two hundred miles, but only fifty or sixty,

how many do you think would ever reach the spot? Why, suppose the

American men did nothing, there are women enough in Massachusetts to

throw every soldier into the Merrimac!

I do not believe that this inferiority of the Mexican arises so much

from the superior bravery of the Americans; almost any male animal will

fight on small provocation; your Mexican male, as well as your American,

on as small provocation, and as desperately. But the American soldier

was always well armed, furnished with every thing that modern science

makes terrible in war; well clad, well fed, well paid, he went

voluntarily to the work. The Mexicans were ill armed, ill clad, ill fed,

often not paid at all, and sometimes brought to fight against their

will.

The difference does not end here: the main reliance of the Mexican

government, the regular soldiers, the Presidiales, were men who seemed

to have most of the vices of old garrison soldiers, with most of the

faults of new recruits; or, as another has said, himself a soldier in

the war, "All the vices engendered in a garrison life; all the

cowardice which their constant defeats by the Indians had created; all

the laziness contracted in an idle monotonous existence, and very little

military skill." The new levies came unwillingly, and were often only

"food for powder." On the American side was a small body of veteran

soldiers, low and coarse men--it is the policy of America to have the

rank and file of our army in peace composed usually of such--but full of

brute courage; accustomed to all sorts of hardships and exposure; under

a discipline rigorous and almost perfect; wonted to danger, and weaned

from fear; careless of life almost to desperation; full of confidence in

their commander, and of contempt for their foe. The volunteers brought

with them the characteristic ardor of Americans, their confidence of

success, their contempt of toil and of danger; familiar with fire-arms

from their youth, they soon learned the discipline of the camp.

You see what a difference this makes between the two armies; but the

chief superiority of the American soldiers was this--they came from a

country where there is a complete national unity of action. So the

government could trust the army, and the army the government; the

soldiers had confidence in their commander, confidence in their country,

confidence in their cause; while the Mexicans had no national unity of

action, the people little confidence in the government, the government

as little in the people; the nation but little trust in the army, and

the army little in the nation; the soldiers had great fear of the enemy,

little faith in their officers, and the officers little in their men.

Did you ever see a swarm of bees when the queen bee was dead, and moths

had invaded the hive? The Mexicans were much in the same state. The

result was what had readily been foreseen: at the battle of Buena Vista,

on the one side, there were twenty-one thousand five hundred and

fifty-three Mexicans; on the other, four thousand seven hundred and

fifty-nine American soldiers, of which only four hundred and seventy-six

were regulars. Yet the American loss, in killed, wounded and missing,

was but seven hundred and forty-six, while that of the Mexican army was

nearly two thousand men lost. If the Mexicans had done the same

proportionate execution, every American would have been killed long

before night.

All these things ought to be taken into account, in making up our mind

about the difficulty of the enterprise. Still, after this allowance is

made, it must be confessed the American invasion of Mexico was a

remarkable undertaking, distinguished for its boldness, not to say its

rashness, and almost unparalleled in the history of modern wars. It

certainly did require great coolness, courage, and prudence, on the part

of General Taylor, to conduct his part of the expedition. He had those

qualities, but it has not yet been proved or shown to be probable, that

he had the nobler qualities which make a great General. The kind of

warfare he was engaged in, does not bring to light the high qualities of

a man like Gustavus Adolphus, Frederick the Great, or Napoleon. Perhaps

General Taylor had them, but they did not appear.

* * * * *

The Mexican war was unfortunate for the administration which carried it

on, for the political party which caused the war. The success of General

Taylor attracted the attention of the people, and the obscure soldier

took popular rank before the President of the United States.

Unconsciously the vicarious suitor, courting public favor for his

master, won good graces for himself. The political party which began the

war, was eclipsed by the triumph of its own soldier; and the slave-power

which projected the war seems likely to be ruined by the success of the

enterprise.

It has been said, that he was averse to the Mexican war which he fought

in; I know not whether this be true or false. But if true, it deserves

to be remembered in his defence, that the soldier is only an active

tool, as much the instrument of his employer as the spade of the workman

whose foot crowds it into the ground. The soldier, high or low, must

obey the men who have the official right to command him, his free-will

merging in that of his superior. If General Taylor had thought the

Mexican war unjust and wicked, and in consequence had resigned his

commission, he would have been covered with obloquy and contempt in the

eyes of military men, and the officials of government. Most of the

newspapers of the land would have attacked him, called him a coward, a

traitor and a fanatic; their condemnation would have been worth as much

as their praise is now. In estimating his character we ought to remember

this fact, for few men do more than their office demands of them, or

more than public opinion can approve.

Such was the success of General Taylor in war, at the head of a few

thousand men, that public attention was turned towards him, and in a few

months the obscure frontier soldier was the most prominent man in the

nation. In 1848 he received the nomination of the Whig Convention at

Philadelphia, for President, and in due time was elected.

His election was certainly one of the most remarkable that ever took

place in America. It is worth while to look at it for a moment. There

was nothing very remarkable in the man to entitle him to that eminent

distinction; if there were, the nation was very slow in finding it out.

He was a farmer till about twenty-four years old; then a common

Lieutenant four years more. In the next twenty years he got no higher

than to the rank of a "Frontier Colonel;" he attained that dignity in

fact, at the age of forty-eight. He was not made General till the

fifty-fifth year of his age. But for the Mexican war, I suppose he

would, at this day, be as obscure as any other General in the United

States' army; nobody would think he was the "Second Washington," "first

in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen," as

his creatures have declared. Other military men have been chosen to the

presidency. But Washington was much more than a soldier; in "a time that

tried men's souls" to the utmost, he had carried the nation through

eight years of most perilous warfare, more by his character than any

eminent military skill, and so had become endeared to the hearts of the

people as no American had ever been before. General Jackson, at first

educated as a lawyer, was a man of large talents, distinguished as a

Governor, as a Senator, and as a Judge of the Supreme Court of

Tennessee, before he was elected President, or nominated for that

office. General Harrison, a man of small abilities, surely not more than

a third-rate politician in Ohio, was yet familiar with the routine of

political affairs. He had been a member of the Legislature of Ohio, of

both branches of the Congress of the United States, and Minister to

Colombia. General Taylor, with an education very imperfect, had passed

his life, from twenty-four to sixty-four, on the frontiers and in the

army; had never held any civil office; had seldom voted, and though an

excellent officer in the sphere of duty he had occupied, did not appear

to be the most promising man in the nation to select for its highest

and most difficult office. The defence of a log-house in 1812 against a

troop of Indians, the conquest of Black Hawk, the rout of the Seminoles,

the gaining of half-a-dozen battles in Mexico, at the head of a few

thousand soldiers, does not seem exactly an adequate schooling to

prepare a common man to lead and rule twenty million Americans with the

most complicated government in the world. It certainly was surprising,

that he should be nominated for that office; and more so, that the

nomination should be confirmed by the people. It is not surprising, that

the distinguished Senator of Massachusetts should call this "A

nomination not fit to be made;" the wonder is, he deemed it fit to be

confirmed. In selecting him for our chief, the nation went hap-hazard,

and made a leap in the dark. No prudent man in Boston would hire a cook

or a coachman with such inadequate recommendations as General Taylor had

to prove his fitness for his place. Had a sensible man on election day

asked the nation, "What do you know about the man you vote for?" the

people would have been sadly puzzled to seek for an answer. The reasons

which led to his selection were partly special, and partly of a general

and popular character. It is instructive for us to look at them, now

that we can do it coolly.

I suppose this was the special cause of his nomination: The leaders of

the whig party thought they could not elect either of their most

prominent men. If they went before the people with nothing but their

idea,--The protection of property by a tariff, and a Representative of

that idea, however able and well trained, they feared defeat; such as

they had met with in the last campaign, when the democratic party, with

a man almost unknown to the people, a tricky lawyer from Tennessee, had

yet carried the day against one of the oldest and ablest politicians in

the country. So the whig leaders availed themselves of the temporary

popularity of a successful General to give an accidental triumph to

their party, and apparently to their idea. That I think was the specific

reason which led the politicians to nominate him. Doubtless there were

other private reasons, weighty to certain individuals, that need not be

touched upon.

But the general reasons, which gave him weight with the mass of the

people and secured his election, ought to be stated for our serious

reflection.

1. There was no one of the great leaders of either party whom the people

had much confidence in. I am sorry to say so, but I do not think there

is much in any of them to command the respect of a nation, and make us

swear fealty to those men. There were two candidates of the whig party;

from one of them you might expect a compromise; from the other you were

not certain even of that. The democratic candidate had not a name to

conjure with. The free soil candidate--was he a man to trust in such

times as these? Did you see your king and chief in any one of those four

men? Was any one of them fit to be the political schoolmaster of this

nation? What "ground and lofty tumbling" have we had from all four of

them?

2. General Taylor was not mixed up with the grand or petty intrigues of

the parties, their quarrels and struggles for office. Men knew little

about him; if little good, certainly little not good; little evil in

comparison with any of the others. Sometimes you take a man whom you do

not know, in preference to an old acquaintance whom you have known too

long and too well to trust.

3. Then General Taylor had shown himself a rough, honest, plain,

straight-forward man, and withal mild and good-natured. Apparently,

there was much in him to attract and deserve the good-will of the

nation. His likeness went abroad through the country like a

proclamation; it was the rude, manly, firm, honest, good-natured, homely

face of a backwoodsman. His plain habits, plain talk, and modest

demeanor reminded men of the old English ballad of "The King and the

Miller" and the like, and won the affections of honest men. I doubt not

the fact that General Harrison had once lived in a log cabin, and, other

things failing, did drink "hard cider," gave him thousands of votes. The

candidate was called "Old Rough and Ready," and there was not a clown

in field or city but could understand all that was meant by those terms.

Even his celebrated horse contributed to his master's election, and drew

votes for the President by the thousand.

4. Then he was a successful soldier. The dullest man in the Alleghany

mountains, or in the low lanes of New York and Boston, or the silliest

behind the counters of a city shop, can understand fighting, and

remember who won a battle. It is wholly needless for such to inquire

what the battle was fought for. Hence military success is always popular

with the multitude, and will be, I suppose, for some ages in America as

everywhere else. Our churches know no God but the "Lord of hosts," "A

man of war!"

5. Then he was a southern man, and all our masters must be from the

South, or of it, devoted to its peculiar institution. If he had been

born in Barnstable county, and owned a little patch of yellow sand at

Cape Cod, and had the freeman's hatred of slavery, even Churubusco and

Buena Vista would not have given him the votes of the Convention, and

his war-horse might have lived till this day, he would not have carried

his master to the presidency. He was a slaveholder, as seven Presidents

had been before him, holding office for eight-and-forty years. There are

some men at the North, chiefly in the country towns, who think it is not

altogether right for a man to steal his brother; such men were to be

propitiated. So it was diligently rumored abroad in the North, that the

candidate was "opposed to slavery," that he would "probably emancipate

his slaves as soon as he was elected." I am told that some persons who

heard such a story, actually believed it; I think nobody who told it

believed any such thing. The fact that he was a slaveholder, that he had

lately purchased one hundred and fourteen men, women, and children, and

kept them at hard work for his advantage, showed the value of such a

story; and the opposite statement, publicly and industriously circulated

at the South, that he loved slavery, desired its extension, and hated

the Wilmot Proviso, shows the honesty of some of the men at the North,

who, knowing these facts, sought to keep them secret.

These seem to have been the chief reasons which procured his nomination

and election. It is easy to see that such a man, though as honest as

Washington, must be eminently unfit for the high office of President of

the United States. He knew little or nothing of the political history of

the country, or of the political questions then up for solution; little

or nothing of the political men. He had the honesty to confess it. He

declared that he was not fit for the office, not acquainted with the

political measures of the day, and only consented to be brought from his

obscurity, when great men told him he was the only man that could "save

the Union." He was no statesman, and knew nothing of politics, less

than the majority of the more cultivated mechanics, merchants and

farmers. He was a soldier, and knew something of fighting, at least of

fighting Indians and Mexicans. If you should take a man of the common

abilities, intellectual and moral, the common education, a farmer from

Northfield, a skipper from Provincetown, a jobber from Boston, a

bucket-maker from Hingham, and appoint him Chief Justice of the Supreme

Court of Massachusetts, with the duty of selecting all his associate

Judges, I think he would be about as competent for the office as General

Taylor for the post he was elected to. In such a case as I have

supposed, the new "Judge" must depend on other men, who will tell him

what to do; his only safety would be in relying on their advice. Then

they would be the Chief Justice, not he.

Under such circumstances, the leaders of one party nominated him. I must

confess such an act, committed by such men, seems exceedingly rash. It

was done by the very men who ought, above all others, to have known

better. This is one of the many things we have had, which show thinking

men how little we can rely on our political chiefs. The nomination once

made, the election followed. The wise men told the multitude: "You must

vote for him," and the multitude voted. You know how angry men were if

you did not believe in his fitness for the office; how it became a test

of "patriotism" to believe in him. Now the good man is cold in death,

how base all that seems!

When such a man under such circumstances comes into such an office, you

do not know whether the deeds which receive his official sanction, the

papers published under his name, the speeches he delivers, and the

messages he sends, are his or not his. It is probable that he has little

to do with them; they are his officially, not personally; he writes

State papers by their signature. Some of his speeches were undoubtedly

made for him. You know it once happened that a speech, alleged to have

been made by him at a public meeting, was sent on by telegraph, and

published by the party organ, in one of our great cities, and he was

taken sick before the meeting was held, and could not speak at all. That

speech betrayed the trick of the administration: it was a speech he had

never heard of. From this one act judge of many more. In his arduous

office, he must choose advisers, but he wants advisers to advise him to

choose advisers. Much will depend on his first step; that must needs be

in the dark.

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