THE KENTUCKIANS
--_The first men to break through the mountain barriers to face the
British and the Indians._
While the government of the United States was thus shaping its policy
toward the Indian tribes, a new empire was building on the western
waters, that was to wield a more powerful influence in the development
of the western country, than all other forces combined. That empire was
Kentucky.
The waters of the Ohio "moving majestically along, noiseless as the foot
of time, and as resistless," sweep from the junction of the Monongahela
and Allegheny to the waters of the Mississippi, a distance of nine
hundred miles, enclosing in their upper courses the island of
Blannerhassett, below the mouth of the Little Kanawha, the island of
Zane, near Wheeling, and leaping in a descent of twenty-two feet in a
distance of two miles the Falls opposite the present city of Louisville.
The lofty eminences which crowned its banks, the giant forests of oak
and maple which everywhere approached its waters, the vines of the
frost-grape that wound their sinuous arms around the topmost branches of
its tallest trees, presented a spectacle that filled the soul of the
traveler with awe and wonder at every graceful turn of the river. In the
spring a wonderful transformation took place in the brown woods. There
suddenly appeared on every hand the opening flowers of the red-bud,
whose whole top appeared as one mass of red blossoms, interspersed with
the white and pale-yellow blossoms of the dog-wood, or cornus florida.
Thus there extended "in every direction, at the same time, red, white
and yellow flowers; at a distance each tree resembling in aspect so many
large bunches of flowers every where dispersed in the woods." This was
the Belle Riviere, or the beautiful river of the French, which they long
and valiantly sought to hold against the advancing tides of English
traders and land hunters. This was that glorious gate to the west,
through which floated the rafts and keel-boats of the American settlers
who took possession of the great northwest.
But notwithstanding the beauty and grandeur of this stream, there was
not, at the close of the French and Indian War, on the tenth of
February, 1763, a single habitation of either white man or savage on
either the Ohio-Indiana side, or on the Kentucky side of this river.
Says General William Henry Harrison: "The beautiful Ohio rolled its
'amber tide' until it paid its tribute to the Father of Waters, through
an unbroken solitude. Its banks were without a town or village, or even
a single cottage, the curling smoke of whose chimney would give the
promise of comfort and refreshment to a weary traveler."
The reason for this solitude is apparent. To the south of the Ohio lay
the "Dark and Bloody Ground" of Kentucky; "Dark," because of its vast
and almost impenetrable forests; "Bloody," because of the constant
savage warfare waged within its limits by roving bands of Miamis,
Shawnees, Cherokees, and other tribes who resorted thither in pursuit of
game. Says Humphrey Marshall, the early historian of Kentucky: "The
proud face of creation here presented itself, without the disguise of
art. No wood had been felled; no field cleared; no human habitation
raised; even the redman of the forest, had not put up his wigwam of
poles and bark for habitation. But that mysterious Being, whose
productive power, we call Nature, ever bountiful, and ever great, had
not spread out this replete and luxurious pasture, without stocking it
with numerous flocks and herds; nor were their ferocious attendants, who
prey upon them, wanting, to fill up the circle of created beings. Here
was seen the timid deer; the towering elk; the fleet stag; the surly
bear; the crafty fox; the ravenous wolf; the devouring panther; the
insidious wildcat; the haughty buffalo, besides innumerable other
creatures, winged, four-footed, or creeping."
This was the common hunting ground of the wild men of the forest. None
took exclusive possession, because none dared. The Ohio was the common
highway of the Indian tribes, and while their war paths crossed it at
frequent intervals, none were so bold as to attempt exclusive dominion
over it.
As was once said in the senate of the United States, "You might as well
inhibit the fish from swimming down the western rivers to the sea, as to
prohibit the people from settling on the new lands." While the great
revolution was opening, that should wrest our independence from Great
Britain, the stream of "long rifles" and hunting shirt men of Virginia
and Pennsylvania, who followed the valleys of the Allegheny and the Blue
Ridge from north to south, suddenly broke through the western mountain
barriers and flowed in diminutive rivulets into the basins of the
Tennessee, the Ohio and the Cumberland; afterwards forming, as Theodore
Roosevelt most strikingly says, "a shield of sinewy men thrust in
between the people of the seaboard and the red warriors of the
wilderness." In 1774, James Harrod built the first log cabin in
Kentucky. On the 14th of June, 1775, the first fort of the white man was
erected at Boonesborough.
The situation of the first pioneers of Kentucky was indeed precarious.
"They were posted," says Mann Butler, "in the heart of the most favorite
hunting ground of numerous and hostile tribes of Indians, on the north
and on the south; a ground endeared to these tribes by its profusion of
the finest game, subsisting on the luxuriant vegetation of this great
natural park. * * * * It was emphatically the Eden of the red man." On
the waters of the Wabash, the Miamis and the Scioto, dwelt powerful
confederacies of savages who regarded their intrusion as a menace and a
threat. Behind these savages stood the minions of Great Britain, urging
war on non-combatants and offering bounties for scalps. It was three or
four hundred miles to the nearest fort at Pittsburgh, and a wilderness
of forest and mountain fully six hundred miles in extent, separated them
from the capital of Virginia.
But it is to the everlasting glory of these men that they knew no fear,
and valiantly held their ground. Standing as they were, on the very
outskirts of civilization, they looked on the perils of the wilderness
with unquailing eye, and with stout hearts and brawny arms they carried
forward the standards of the republic. The thin line of skirmishers thus
thrown far out beyond the western ranges, was all that stood between the
grasping power of Great Britain, and the realization of her desire for
absolute dominion over the western country. The ambitious projects of
her rebel children must be defeated, and they must be driven back beyond
the great watershed which they had crossed. The western waters were to
be preserved for the red allies of England, who supplied her merchants
with furs and peltries. The great "game preserve," as Roosevelt called
it, must not be invaded. Years before, a royal governor of Georgia had
written: "This matter, my Lords, of granting large bodies of land in the
back part of any of his majesty's northern colonies, appears to me in a
very serious and alarming light; and I humbly conceive, may be attended
with the greatest and worst of consequences; for, my Lords, if a vast
territory be granted to any set of gentlemen, who really mean to people
it, and actually do so, it must draw and carry out a great number of
people from Great Britain, and I apprehend they will soon become a kind
of separate and independent people, who will set up for themselves; that
they will soon have manufactures of their own; and in process of time
they will become formidable enough to oppose his majesty's authority."
This, "kind of separate and independent people," had now in fact and in
reality appeared, and were evincing a most decided inclination to "set
up for themselves" on the king's domain.
The task of faithfully portraying the heroic valour of this handful of
men who defended their stockades and cabins, their wives and children,
against British hate and savage inroad, is better left to those who have
received the account from actual survivors. In 1777, the entire army of
Kentucky amounted to one hundred and two men; there were twenty-two at
Boonesborough, sixty-five at Harrodsburgh, and fifteen at St. Asaphs, or
Logan's fort. Around these frontier stations skulked the Shawnees,
hiding behind stumps of trees and in the weeds and cornfields. They
waylaid the men and boys working in the fields, beset every pathway,
watched every watering place, and shot down the cattle. "In the night,"
says Humphrey Marshall, "they will place themselves near the fort gate,
ready to sacrifice the first person who shall appear in the morning; in
the day, if there be any cover, such as grass, a bush, a large clod of
earth, or a stone as big as a bushel, they will avail themselves of it,
to approach the fort, by slipping forward on their bellies, within
gun-shot, and then, whosoever appears first, gets the fire, while the
assailant makes his retreat behind the smoke from the gun. At other
times they approach the walls, or palisades, with the utmost audacity,
and attempt to fire them, or beat down the gate. They often make feints,
to draw out the garrison, on one side of the fort, and if practicable,
enter it by surprise on the other. And when their stock of provisions
is exhausted, this being an individual affair, they supply themselves by
hunting; and again, frequently return to the siege, if by any means they
hope to get a scalp." In this same year of 1777, St. Asaphs, or Logan's
fort, was besieged by the savages from the twentieth of May until the
month of September. "The Indians made their attack upon Logan's fort
with more than their usual secrecy. While the women, guarded by a part
of the men, were milking the cows outside of the fort, they were
suddenly fired upon by a large body of Indians, till then concealed in
the thick cane which stood about the cabin. By this fire, one man was
killed and two others wounded, one mortally; the residue, with the
women, got into the fort. When, having reached the protection of its
walls, one of the wounded men was discovered, left alive on the ground.
Captain Logan, distressed for his situation, and keenly alive to the
anguish of his family, who could see him from the fort, weltering in his
blood, exposed every instant to be scalped by the savages, endeavored in
vain for some time to raise a party for his rescue. The garrison was,
however, so small, and the danger so appalling, that he met only
objection and refusal; until John Martin, stimulated by his captain,
proceeded with him to the front gate. At this instant, Harrison, the
wounded man, appeared to raise himself on his hands and knees, as if
able to help himself, and Martin withdrew, deterred by the obvious
hazard; Logan, incapable of abandoning a man under his command, was only
nerved to newer and more vigorous exertions to relieve the wounded man,
who, by that time, exhausted by his previous efforts, after crawling a
few paces, had fallen to the ground; the generous and gallant captain
took him in his arms, amidst a shower of bullets, many of which struck
the palisades about his head, and brought him into the fort to his
despairing family."
Let another tale be related of this same Benjamin Logan and this same
siege. "Another danger now assailed this little garrison. 'There was but
little powder or ball in the fort; nor any prospect of supply from the
neighboring stations, could it even have been sent for, without the most
imminent danger.' The enemy continued before the fort; there was no
ammunition nearer than the settlements at Holston, distant about two
hundred miles; and the garrison must surrender to horrors worse than
death, unless a supply of this indispensable article could be obtained.
Nor was it an easy task to pass through so wily an enemy or the danger
and difficulty much lessened, when even beyond the besiegers; owing to
the obscure and mountainous way, it was necessary to pass, through a foe
scattered in almost every direction. But Captain Logan was not a man to
falter where duty called, because encompassed with danger. With two
companions he left the fort in the night and with the sagacity of a
hunter, and the hardihood of a soldier, avoided the trodden way of
Cumberland Gap, which was most likely to be waylaid by the Indians, and
explored his passage over the Cumberland Mountain, where no man had ever
traveled before, through brush and cane, over rocks and precipices,
sufficient to have daunted the most hardy and fearless. In less than
ten days from his departure, Captain Logan, having obtained the desired
supply, and leaving it with directions to his men, how to conduct their
march, arrived alone and safe at his 'diminutive station,' which had
been almost reduced to despair. The escort with the ammunition,
observing the directions given it, arrived in safety, and the garrison
once more felt itself able to defend the fort and master its own
fortune." The siege was at last raised, but on the body of one of the
detachment were found the proclamations of the British governor of
Canada, offering protection to those who should embrace the cause of the
king, but threatening vengeance on all who refused their allegiance.
Thus it was brought home to the struggling pioneers of Kentucky, that
the British and the Indians were in league against them.
Men like Daniel Boone, James Harrod and Benjamin Logan, fighting,
bleeding, hunting game for the beleaguered garrisons, were the
precursors of George Rogers Clark. Clark possessed prescience. He knew
the British had determined on the extermination of the Kentucky
settlements, because these settlements thwarted the British plan of
preserving the west as a red man's wilderness. He had been in the fights
at Harrodstown, in 1777, and doubtless knew that the British partisans
at Detroit were paying money for scalps. Knowing that all the irruptions
of savages into Kentucky were encouraged and set on foot from Kaskaskia,
Vincennes and Detroit, he suddenly resolved upon the bold project of
capturing these strongholds. This would put the British upon the
defensive, relieve the frontiers of Kentucky, Virginia and
Pennsylvania, and in the end add a vast territory to the domain of the
republic. In the accomplishment of all these designs the soil of
Kentucky was to be used as a base of operations.
It is not the purpose of this work to give a history of the Clark
campaigns, nor of the daring stratagems of that great leader in
effecting his purposes. Kaskaskia, Cahokia, and Vincennes, each in turn
fell into his hands, and when Henry Hamilton, the British
lieutenant-governor at Detroit, received the astounding news that the
French on the Mississippi and the Wabash had sworn allegiance to the
Americans, he abandoned his enterprise of capturing Fort Pitt and at
once entered upon a campaign to retrieve the lost possessions and
"sweep" the Kentuckians out of the country. His scheme was formidable.
With a thousand men, and with artillery to demolish the stockades and
destroy the frontier posts, he proposed to drive the settlers back
across the mountains. "Undoubtedly," says Roosevelt, "he would have
carried out his plan, and have destroyed all the settlements west of the
Alleghenies, had he been allowed to wait until the mild weather brought
him his host of Indian allies and his reinforcements of regulars and
militia from Detroit." How Clark with his Virginians and Kentuckians,
and a few French allies from the western posts, anticipated his attack,
swam the drowned lands of the Wabash, and surprised him at Vincennes,
has been well told. Instead of "sweeping" Kentucky, the "hair-buyer"
general was taken a prisoner to the dungeons of Virginia, and the
newborn possessions were erected into the county of Illinois.
For a number of years following the revolution, there were those in the
east, and especially in New England, who suffered from myopia. They
utterly failed to see the future of the republic, or the importance of
holding the western country. To them, such men as Harrod and Kenton,
Logan and Boone, were "lawless borderers" and willful aggressors on the
rights of the red man. And yet, back of the crowning diplomacy of John
Jay, that placed our western frontiers on the banks of the Mississippi,
and extended our northern lines to the thread of the lakes, lay the
stern resolution of the men of Kentucky and the supreme audacity of the
mind of Clark.
From this crucible of fire and blood a great people emerged, hardy,
brave, chivalrous, quick to respond to the cries and sufferings of
others, but with an iron hate of all things Indian and British stamped
eternally in their hearts. Others might be craven, but they were not.
Every savage incursion was answered by a counterstroke. The last red man
had not retreated across the Ohio, before the mounted riflemen of
Kentucky, leaving old men and boys behind to supply the settlements,
and with a little corn meal and jerked venison for their provision,
sallied forth to take their vengeance and demolish the Indian towns.
Federal commanders, secretaries of war, even Presidents might
remonstrate, but all in vain. They had come forth into the wilderness to
form their homes and clear the land, and make way for civilization, and
they would not go back. In every family there was the story of a
midnight massacre, or of a wife or child struck down by the tomahawk, or
of a loving father burned at the stake. To plead with men whose souls
had been seared by outrage and horror was unavailing. All savages
appeared the same to them. They shot without discrimination, and shot to
kill. They marched with Clark, they rode with Harmar, and they fought
with Wayne and Harrison. In the war of 1812, more than seven thousand
Kentuckians took the field. It was, as Butler has aptly termed it, "a
state in arms." You may call them "barbarians," "rude frontiersmen," or
what you will, but it took men such as these to advance the outposts of
the nation and to conquer the west. Strongly, irresistibly, is the soul
of the patriot moved by the story of their deeds.
With all its bloody toil and suffering, Kentucky grew. After the spring
of 1779, when Clark had captured Vincennes, the danger of extermination
was over. Following the revolution a strong and ever increasing stream
of boats passed down the Ohio. The rich lands, the luxuriant pastures,
the bounteous harvests of corn and wheat, were great attractions. Josiah
Harmar, writing from the mouth of the Muskingum in May, 1787, reports
one hundred and seventy-seven boats, two thousand six hundred and
eighty-nine men, women and children, one thousand three hundred and
thirty-three horses, seven hundred and sixty-six cattle, and one hundred
and two wagons, as passing that point, bound for Limestone and the
rapids at Louisville. On the ninth of December of the same year, he
reports one hundred and forty-six boats, three thousand one hundred and
ninety-six souls, one thousand three hundred and eighty-one horses, one
hundred and sixty-five wagons, one hundred and seventy-one cattle, and
two hundred and forty-five sheep as on the way to Kentucky, between the
first of June and the date of his communication. In 1790, the first
census of the United States showed a population of seventy-three
thousand six hundred and seventy-seven. On June 1st, 1792, Kentucky
became the fifteenth commonwealth in the federal union; the first of the
great states west of the Alleghenies that were to add so much wealth,
resource and vital strength to the government of the United States.