must also capture Vincennes, but M. Gibault, the village priest of both
that place and Kaskaskia, volunteered to inform the people of Vincennes
that the king of France had become an ally of the American colonists.
Soon the American flag floated over that fort and from the Lakes to the
Mississippi the powerful arm of the British was broken, and the many
Indian invasions of Kentucky were discontinued.
A FAMOUS MARCH
News came to General Clark in January of 1779, that the British under
Governor Hamilton from Detroit had recaptured Vincennes and were waiting
only till spring to advance with hundreds of Indian allies on Kaskaskia,
obliterate the Kentuckians, and break the power of Virginia west of the
Alleghenies. Learning at the same time that Hamilton had only about
eighty regular soldiers with three cannons and some swivels, Clark
decided not to wait to be attacked, but to take the aggressive. He at
once sent forty-five men on a boat to proceed to a point near the mouth
of the White River with instructions, to allow nothing to pass, and to
wait further orders.
Nine days after the important information reached him, General Clark
with one hundred and seventy men started across flooded prairies,
swollen streams, and inundated valleys. There is no more daring march
recorded. Trudging through rain and mud, fording small streams, wading
most of the time in deep water ofttimes to the armpits, they traveled
without tents, depending on parched corn and the securing of game for
food; at last they went for days with no nourishment whatever.
[Illustration: Clark and his men crossing a swollen stream.]
It took all the ingenuity of General Clark to keep up the courage of the
soldiers. Sometimes he would plunge into the deep water singing a
favorite song, when all would join in, fall in line, and sing as they
waded. At another time, seeing the discouragement and despair in their
faces, he blackened his face with gunpowder, gave an Indian-like war
whoop, and plunged into the stream; again all followed. At another place
a little drummer boy was placed on the shoulders of a tall man and told
to beat as if for his life. The enthusiasm of the boy and his stirring
music quickly renewed the courage of the soldiers. A division was placed
in the rear with orders to shoot any who "dropped out," and the march
was continued through the freezing waters.
Near Vincennes, they captured a Frenchman who had been duck shooting,
and sent a letter by him to the French inhabitants saying that the fort
would be stormed that night and they could choose between remaining
quietly in their homes and receiving the friendly protection of the
assaulters, or of going into the British fort and of abiding results.
All was then commotion and people rushed out from their houses to learn
the news. By a stratagem of Clark's his men were so marching in a circle
behind an elevation that as they passed and repassed, flying many
"colors," each man was counted dozens of times, and the inhabitants of
the place thought there was an attacking force of many hundreds of
people at their gates.
For two days and nights, Clark's men besieged the fort. Their ammunition
ran alarmingly low, yet Clark, Napoleon-like, was very demanding. At
last the "Stars and Stripes" floated again over Vincennes, and thus was
secured to our nation that vast tract out of which have been carved
Michigan, Wisconsin, Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois, while the value to the
colonists in Kentucky could not be easily estimated.
THE FIRST CHRISTMAS PARTY
When General George Rogers Clark had conquered the British and Indians
in their stronghold in the Illinois country, he felt it safe for the few
families he had left on Corn Island, near the Falls of the Ohio, to
remove to the mainland, and so ordered that a fort be built there.
Rows of log cabins joined together around a hollow square constituted
this structure; at one corner there was a cabin, double the size of the
others, that was to serve as a storeroom. In this building took place
the first Christmas dinner and dance in Kentucky, as far as any record
shows.
The men ranged the forest and brought home rabbits, turkeys, deer,
bears, and buffaloes. The women baked corn pone, hoecake and johnnycake,
boiled and fried hominy, and prepared milk, butter, and cheese.
Forks were driven into the earthen floor of the storehouse. On rough,
unhewn, uncovered boards laid above poles stretched between the forks,
the feast was served. Wooden platters held the meats, wooden plates the
bread, and wooden bowls the hominy. The centerpiece that decorated the
table and proved the great dish of the banquet was an opossum baked
whole, hanging by its tail on a stick of wood, which was suspended over
the center.
The fiddler of the fort, an old negro named Cato, as well as every man,
woman, and child, had been downcast for some time because the fiddle
had only one string left. Patient Cato had tried horsehair and deer
sinews, but no music could thus be made. Fortunately on Christmas eve a
small boat landed near the fort and on it was a Frenchman with a violin.
[Illustration: "The Frenchman retired in a rage."]
It did not take old Cato long to inquire if the musician had any extra
strings he would sell; learning that he had, Cato joyfully exchanged
raccoon skins for the coveted strings, and gave the stranger an extra
skin to tell nothing about the trade. Cato was intending to give the
settlers a great surprise. Alas for his dreams! The traders from the
boat being invited to the feast, the Frenchman happened to speak of an
accident to his fiddle; whereupon he was besieged with requests to get
his instrument and play, so they could dance. He reluctantly yielded,
the table was cleared away, the older people and children ranged
themselves around the walls, and the younger men and women impatiently
waited on the smooth, dirt floor, until the music began.
The Frenchman tried in vain to teach the fashionable dances of his
homeland to the backwoods boys and girls. At last, becoming discouraged
and disgusted, he retired in a rage. Then the old darkey approached him
and politely asked if he might play while his honor rested. He was told
to "play on."
Soon to the music of old Cato's fiddle, the boys and girls were making
merry by dancing the Virginia reel. Not till the midnight hour did
either the dancers or fiddler weary or pause.
FORT JEFFERSON
Thomas Jefferson, the Sage of Monticello, the originator of many plans
for the defense and perpetuation of our country, deserves a place of
honor in the records of Kentucky, for the interest shown in this, the
then remote part of Virginia.
In a message in 1778, Governor Patrick Henry of Virginia suggested that
a post be established and fortified on the Mississippi; but it was
Governor Jefferson of the same state who later expressly said that the
plan must be executed.
Spain and France for years were zealous in their efforts to check the
extension of the infant republic, control the great Mississippi, and
make of Kentucky a Spanish province. Her geographical position and great
river frontage caused them to realize her wonderful resources. So, to
fortify the claim of the United States to the Mississippi as its western
boundary, Thomas Jefferson, Governor of Virginia, engaged Dr. Thomas
Walker with an able corps of surveyors to ascertain the point on the
Mississippi River intersected by the southern limit of Virginia. He
then, in 1780, instructed General George Rogers Clark to establish a
fort and garrison near that point and afterwards to extend a line of
forts to the north, both to offer protection and to establish
possession. So in the summer of 1780, General Clark with 200 soldiers
erected and manned with cannons a fort at a point about five miles below
where Cairo now is and near Wickliffe, Kentucky. Adverse criticisms fell
from many because of this division and depletion of forces, but as in
all other enterprises with which he was connected, Jefferson built not
for the present alone but for the future as well.
By an oversight Clark and his soldiers failed to follow Jefferson's
instructions to secure from the Chickasaw Indians, who owned the land
west of the Tennessee River, the consent to the erection of the fort.
They thereby aroused a spark of resentment that erelong became such a
flame that the Indians began harassing and killing the families outside
the fort. By threat of death, they forced one captive to describe the
true state of the fort, in which, to their surprise, they learned there
were only about thirty men and two thirds of these were sick with
malaria. Soon the Indians marched, one thousand two hundred strong,
under the command of a Scotchman named Colbert; but for five days these
weakened frontiersmen with little water and less food, except green
pumpkins, held the fort.
Finally Captains Clark and Colbert met under a flag of truce, but failed
to agree to terms. The fort even refused a demand to surrender, though
told that the assistance they expected would not reach them. As night
fell the Indians made a desperate assault, but the firing from one of
the blockhouses so depleted and demoralized their ranks that they
retreated. Reenforcements arrived soon after and the siege was
abandoned.
Though Fort Jefferson from its isolated position was finally forsaken,
yet "its evacuation was a signal for peace," and the Indians here no
longer molested the white settlers.
"THE HARD WINTER"
From November to March, 1779-1780, the settlers of Kentucky suffered
untold anguish from the severity of the weather and the scarcity of
food. More pioneers had come into the wilderness the preceding summer
and so increased the population that the products of garden, field, and
forest were soon exhausted.
Deep, unmelting snow covered the land; many families coming by river
were caught in the masses of ice, compelled to abandon their primitive
boats, and encamp on the frozen shore; while the traveler by land found
trails blocked with snow, creeks frozen solid, and the forest desolate.
Horses, cattle, and many wild animals froze or died from want of
nourishment, while so great was the extremity that the settlers were
forced to eat the flesh of the animals that had thus fallen, and for
months had to go without bread. In this severe cold, through the deep
snow and over the solid ice, there could be little traveling. To secure
supplies from elsewhere was impossible; and even when spring began to
bring some relief, one bushel of corn brought, in the continental
currency, from fifty to one hundred and seventy-five dollars. Complete
relief could not come until the seedtime and the harvest home were over.
The Pilgrims were not more grateful on their first Thanksgiving Day than
were the Kentucky frontiersmen when plenty again abounded.
WILDCAT McKINNEY
Though the pioneers of Kentucky endured many murderous attacks from the
Indians, there were other dangers which were not trifling. One of the
most exciting of these incidents was the experience of a man named John
McKinney, who was employed at an early day by the people of Lexington,
as their first teacher.
At that time Kentucky had no newspaper, and items of interest from the
states beyond the mountains were eagerly greeted by all. In May, 1783, a
traveler passing through the embryo city of what is now the capital of
our famed blue-grass section, brought with him a newspaper containing
the Articles of Peace with Great Britain. All were anxious to read them.
The fact that the Articles had not yet been ratified did not lessen the
interest of the citizens. A copy of any paper was a treat, and such news
as the Articles meant great hope for the struggling settlers. As the
gentleman would resume his journey the following day and take with him
the much-prized paper, some of the citizens appealed to McKinney to copy
the Articles of Peace.
At that time Lexington was only a cluster of about thirty cabins, and
one which stood just outside the fort, near the present site of the
courthouse, was used as a schoolroom.
Thither, the next morning, the teacher went to copy the precious news of
peace. While busily writing, he heard a noise and glancing up saw a
very unusual and unwelcome guest. A ferocious wildcat with bristles
erect, tail curled, and eyes flashing, had paused on the threshold and
was peering around the room. At first she did not see McKinney, but by
some involuntary movement he attracted her attention, and she soon
exhibited other than friendly emotions.
[Illustration: "The wildcat was not to be frowned down."]
Having been accustomed to subdue the backwoods boys and girls by the
awfulness of his frown, the teacher tried the same tactics now; but the
cat was not to be frowned down. As the teacher reached for a rule she,
with the ferocity of a lion, sprang upon him, fastened her claws in his
side, and began tearing his clothes, mangling his flesh, and inflicting
such serious wounds that the blood flowed copiously.
Knowing he could not long withstand her power and despairing of aught
else to do, he threw his weight upon her and pressed her against the
sharp corner of the table. Soon her weird cries were mingled with his
calls of distress, and erelong the citizens knew something unusual was
happening in the little schoolhouse. The women were first to answer the
cry of alarm. Reaching the door, they paused to discover the cause of
the commotion and seeing Mr. McKinney bending over the table, writhing
and groaning, they at first glance thought that he had a severe attack
of cramp, but quickly seeing the cat, one lady exclaimed, "Why, Mr.
McKinney, what is the matter?"
He very gravely replied, "Madam, I have caught a cat."
By this time the cat was lifeless; but her teeth were so deeply imbedded
in his side that the neighbors, many of whom had gathered by this time,
had great difficulty in disengaging her.
The shock, the wound, and the loss of blood made McKinney very sick and
weak, and for several days he was confined to his bed while the boys
and girls enjoyed a holiday.
He lived to a ripe old age and was often heard to say he would rather
fight two Indians than one wildcat.
HOW KENTUCKY WAS FORMED
When "the embattled farmers stood and fired the shot heard round the
world," Kentucky was that portion of the "Old Dominion" that was
destined to be the happy homes of so many men, valorous in the field and
eloquent in the forum. The state to be, whose toast and boast has ever
been her noble sons and fair daughters, was still called Fincastle
County, Virginia.
The last day of 1776, the year that saw the sons of the colonies rise in
the majesty of their manhood and declare they would no longer submit to
the rule of King George, the Virginia legislature divided Fincastle
County into three counties, and called one of them Kentucky. This so
remained until May, 1780, when Kentucky County was divided into
Jefferson, Fayette, and Lincoln. Then the name of Kentucky was abandoned
until in 1783, when an act of the Virginia legislature united the three
counties into Kentucky District. On March 3, 1783, the first court
convened at Harrodstown; but no house there being large enough, a
church, six miles distant, was the home of the first judicial
proceedings.
An act of this court caused a log jail and courthouse to be built where
Danville now stands. Immigrants continued to come to this "Eden of the
West" and the three original counties were divided and subdivided until
June 1, 1792, when Kentucky became the fifteenth star in the
constellation. There were then nine counties with a total population of
100,000; from this embryo has come a commonwealth of one hundred and
twenty counties, with an area of four thousand square miles, rich in
minerals and timber, factories and fields.
From the mountains of the east and the blue grass of the central part,
even to the "Pennyrile" of the far west, each son of the "Dark and
Bloody Ground" loves the land settled by Boone, Kenton, and Clark.
KENTUCKY IN THE REVOLUTION
The youth of our state may feel that because Kentucky was not one of the
original Thirteen Colonies to make the heroic struggle for freedom, that
she played no part in establishing and extending our national
government.
During this period, remote as was this part of Virginia from the centers
of civilization, every road blazed, every settlement made, every victory
over the red savage, had a far-reaching effect, not alone for the state
in embryo, but for the national government.
Had not the pioneers of Kentucky, with the heroism of the Romans of old,
subdued the savages, stopped their depredations, and secured to the
mother state of Virginia that vast tract out of which have been carved
Michigan, Wisconsin, Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois, the power of England,
to-day, might cut our continent in two.
Kentuckians waited not for opportunity but made it.
At the battle of Point Pleasant, in October, 1774, where the noted
"Cornstalk" met defeat, there were with General Andrew Lewis men whose
name and fame furnish much of Kentucky history. There were Harrod, the
Shelbys, the Boones, and other intrepid leaders who afterwards brought
out from chaos our infant commonwealth.
The effect of this battle was more than local. It gave peace to the
frontiersmen at the time the colonies were beginning the crucial contest
with England and for a while prevented that barbaric warfare waged by
the British and Indians united. So severe was the slaughter, it is said,
that blood was found on each tree behind which the Indians and pioneers
were posted.
In 1780 one of our pioneers who afterwards became our first governor,
Colonel Isaac Shelby, was again in Kentucky locating lands that some
time before he had marked out and improved, when he heard of the
surrender of Charleston. A man with a soul so fired with patriotism
could not be contented not to answer his country's call. He hurried
home, secured volunteers, and did signal service in both North and South
Carolina, and in Georgia. In a measure he overcame the defeat of Gates
at Camden; by his momentous move, though not in supreme command,
Colonel Shelby will ever be known as the hero of Kings Mountain, where
the enemy surrendered after Ferguson with seventy-five officers and men
had been killed.
This was at the darkest hour of the Revolution and has been called "the
first link in the great chain of events in the South that established
the independence of the United States." These conquests by Shelby in the
South, coupled with those of Clark at Kaskaskia, Cahokia, and Vincennes,
were as important in both immediate and future results as any that
illumine the pages of the Revolution.
KENTUCKY'S PIONEER HISTORIAN
To view Kentucky in its primeval beauty and rugged grandeur; to talk
face to face with Boone, Harrod, Todd, Cowan, and Kennedy, those hardy
hunters who blazed the way and changed the uncertain trail to a broad
thoroughfare through the western wilds; to experience the difficulties
and encounter the dangers of those dreadful days--were experiences for
one who would essay to write a history of the country, the times, and
the people. Yet such were the advantages enjoyed by Kentucky's earliest
historian, John Filson.
Born in Pennsylvania in 1747, given a common school and academic
education, lured either by the spirit of adventure, the locating of
lands, or the enthusiastic reports of the far-famed "second paradise"
with its "happy climate and plentiful soil," Filson reached Lexington in
1782. Here he succeeded "Wildcat McKinney" as the second teacher in this
"Athens of the West."
While engaged in teaching, Filson was securing information that was to
give to the world, not only the first history of Kentucky, but the first
authentic account of that vast, transmontane wilderness about which so
many exciting experiences had been recounted.
It has been said, "he could ask more questions and answer fewer than any
one of his time."
Active, observant, accurate, he gave, in his "Discovery, Settlement, and
Present State of Kentucky," in 1784, a work of much merit. It contained
the first map ever drawn of this state, showing the three original
counties of Jefferson, Fayette, and Lincoln.
As this was before any printing presses had been set up in Kentucky or
at any other point in the West, Filson carried his map to Philadelphia
and his manuscript to Wilmington, Delaware.
This little book of one hundred and eighteen pages was deemed of such
consequence that one year after its appearance, it was translated into
French and published by M. Parraud at Paris. Three editions were printed
in England by Gilbert Imlay, Kentucky's first novelist, who incorporated
it in his "Topographical Description of the Western Territory."
Not only was Filson a historian, biographer, and teacher, but he was
also a practical, skillful surveyor.
He led a restless, strenuous life. Soon after his first visit to
Kentucky he was back on his native heath, again in the state of his
adoption, next in the Illinois country gathering data for a history of
that section, the manuscripts of which are now the property of the
Wisconsin Historical Society.
[Illustration: John Filson.]
In 1788 Filson was associated with Mathias Denman and Robert
Patterson, the founder of Lexington, in the purchase of a tract of
eight hundred acres opposite the mouth of the Licking River, where
they planned a town, now the city of Cincinnati, but named by Filson,
Losantiville,--the "city opposite the mouth of the Licking."
As the party deferred surveying and staking off lots for a while,
Filson's restless spirit again urged him on; and, after surveying the
Great Miami with a party, he ventured still farther alone and was never
seen again. His friends supposed he was killed by the Indians; but
there is no record of the time, place, or manner of his death, and
nothing to mark his grave. His name has been aptly given to that body of
earnest, eminent workers of Louisville, the Filson Club, who have done
so much to collect and preserve the many interesting facts about
Kentucky's early days.
SPANISH CONSPIRACY
Kentucky, the land of soldiers and statesmen, has erected in the hearts
of her patriotic sons a monument, ever enduring, to Clark, Logan,
Bowman, Scott, Shelby, Hardin, and scores of others whose work and
courage won for us this fair domain. It can be truly said of each:
"An empire is his sepulcher,
His epitaph is fame."
Though these brave men had conquered the wild beasts and barbarous red
men, there were still other forces to meet. When this far-away West,
between the Alleghenies and the Mississippi River, began to prosper,
homes were built, forests became fields, and products sought a market.
As railroads were undreamed of, nature's method of transportation was
their only outlet. To be able to load a flatboat with corn and other
Kentucky crops, and float down the Ohio and the "Father of Waters" to
New Orleans, would have made that city a great haven for the western
pioneers. But Spain owned the mouth, and though Great Britain had ceded
us free navigation of the river, Spain in the early nineties refused the
free navigation and the right to deposit at New Orleans. Subsequent
events will disclose how long this privilege was withheld.
We have elsewhere told how out of Fincastle County, Virginia, 1776, the
county of Kentucky was erected, while in 1780 it was divided into the
counties of Fayette, Jefferson, and Lincoln, and in 1783 they were
united into a Kentucky District. But so far removed was this district
from the capital of the commonwealth, so insurmountable were the natural
barriers at that time, so inadequate was the mother state to protect the
pioneers, that they began seriously to consider a separation and the
erection of another member of the general government. Yet so great was
their love for Virginia, it was only with the most delicate suggestion
they began. Convention after convention met and adjourned with nothing
more accomplished than a postponement of the desire nearest their
hearts.