Zachary Taylor was born in Orange County, Virginia, in November, 1784.
He was the second son of Col. Richard Taylor, whose ancestors
emigrated from England about two centuries ago, and settled in Eastern
Virginia. The father, distinguished alike for patriotism and valor,
served as colonel in the revolutionary war, and took part in many
important engagements. About 1790 he left his Virginian farm, and
emigrated with his family to Kentucky. He settled in the ‘dark and
bloody ground,’ and for years encountered all the trials then incident
to border life. The earliest impressions of young Zachary were the
sudden foray of the savage foe, the piercing warwhoop, the answering
cry of defiance, the gleam of the tomahawk, the crack of the rifle,
the homestead saved by his father’s daring, the neighboring cottage
wrapped in flames, or its hearth-stone red with blood. Such scenes
bound his young nerves with iron, and fired his fresh soul with
martial ardor; working upon his superior nature they made arms his
delight, and heroism his destiny. Zachary was placed in school at an
early age, and his teacher, who now resides in Preston, Connecticut,
still loves to dwell on the studiousness of his habits, the quickness
of his apprehension, the modesty of his demeanor, the firmness and
decision of his character, and a general thoughtfulness, sagacity, and
stability, that made him a leader to his mates and a pride to his
master.
After leaving school, the military spirit of young Taylor was
constantly fanned by the popular excitement against the continual
encroachments of England; and soon after the murderous attack of the
British ship Leopard upon the Chesapeake, in 1808, he entered the army
as first lieutenant in the 7th regiment of infantry. He soon gained
distinction in border skirmishes with the Indians, and the declaration
of war with England found him promoted to the rank of captain. Within
sixty days after the commencement of hostilities in 1812, the
imbecility of Hull lost to the country its Michigan territory, and
fearfully jeoparded the whole northwestern region. It was of the
utmost importance to entrust the few and feeble forts of that great
dominion to men of established valor and discretion. Captain Taylor
was at once invested with the command of Fort Harrison, situated on
the Wabash, in the very heart of the Indian country. The defenses of
this post were in a miserable condition, and its garrison consisted of
only fifty men, of whom thirty were disabled by sickness. With this
little handful of soldiers, the young commander immediately set about
repairing the fortifications. He had hardly completed his work, when,
on the night of the 4th of September, an alarm shot from one of his
sentinels aroused him from a bed of fever, to meet the attack of a
large force of Miami Indians. Every man was at once ordered to his
post. A contiguous block house was fired by the enemy, and a thick
discharge of bullets and arrows was opened upon the fort. The darkness
of the night, the howlings of the savages, the shrieks of the women
and children, the fast approaching flames, and the panic of the
debilitated soldiers, made up a scene of terror, but could not shake
the determination nor the judgment of the young chieftain. He inspired
his men with his own courage and energy. The flames were extinguished,
the consumed breastworks were renewed, and volley answered volley for
six long hours till day break enabled the Americans to aim with a
deadly precision that soon dispersed their foes. This gallant repulse,
at odds so unfavorable, prompted a report from Major General Hopkins
to Governor Shelby that ‘the firm and almost unparalleled defense of
Fort Harrison had raised for Captain Zachary Taylor a fabric of
character not to be affected by eulogy;’ and forthwith procured from
President Madison a preferment to the rank of brevet major, the first
brevet, it is said, ever conferred in the American army.
[Illustration: VIEW NEAR FORT ANCIENT, OHIO.]
[Illustration: VIEW OF MILFORD.]
Major Taylor continued actively engaged throughout the war; but being
without a separate command, he had no opportunity to again signalize
himself by any remarkable achievement. After the treaty of peace, he
remained at the West, faithfully performing his duties at different
military posts, and preparing himself for any future call to more
active service. In 1832, he was promoted to the rank of colonel; and
soon after the opening of the Florida war, he was ordered to that
territory. Here he was in constant service, and distinguished himself
for his discretion and gallantry in circumstances of the most trying
difficulty and peril. His entire career won for him universal esteem
and confidence.
The greatest achievement of Colonel Taylor in Florida was his victory
of Okee-Chobee, which was gained on the 25th of December, 1837. The
action was very severe, and continued nearly four hours. The Indians,
under the command of Alligator and Sam Jones, numbered about 700
warriors, and were posted in a dense hammock, with their front covered
by a small stream, almost impassable on account of quicksands, and
with their flanks secured by swamps that prevented all access. Colonel
Taylor’s force amounted to about 500 men, a portion of whom were
inexperienced volunteers. By an extraordinary effort, the stream in
front was crossed, under a most galling fire of the enemy, by our
soldiers, who sunk to the middle in the mire. A close and desperate
fight ensued, during which the five companies of the sixth infantry,
who bore the brunt of the fray, lost every officer but one, and one of
these companies saved only four privates unharmed. The enemy’s line
was at last broken, and their right flank turned. They were soon
scattered in all directions, and were pursued until near night. The
American loss was 26 killed and 112 wounded; that of the Indians was
very large, but never definitely ascertained. Throughout the whole
engagement, Colonel Taylor was passing on his horse from point to
point within the sweep of the Indian rifles, emboldening and directing
his men, without the least apparent regard for his own personal
safety. This victory had a decisive influence upon the turn of the
war; and the government immediately testified their sense of its
importance by conferring upon its gallant winner the rank of
brigadier-general by brevet.
In the following May, General Taylor succeeded General Jesup in the
command of the Florida army, and in this capacity, during two years,
he rendered vast services to the country by quelling the atrocities of
Indian warfare, and restoring peace and security to the southern
frontier. In 1840, at his own request, he was relieved by
Brigadier-general Armistead, and was ordered to the southwestern
department. Here he remained at various head-quarters until government
had occasion for his services in Texas.
The project for the annexation of Texas, which was first officially
broached in the last year of President Tyler’s administration,
acquired more and more weight and influence, until finally, in March,
1845, an act to that effect was passed by both Houses of Congress, and
was soon after ratified by the Texian government. Mexico, although the
independence of Texas had been long before _de facto_ secured, stoutly
protested against the annexation. The special American envoy sent to
the Mexican capital to attempt an adjustment of this and other
difficulties, was refused a hearing, and great preparations were
carried on by the Mexican government for another invasion of Texas. In
June, General Taylor received orders to advance with his troops over
the Sabine, and protect all of the territory east of the Rio Grande,
over which Texas exercised jurisdiction. He accordingly marched into
Texas, and in August concentrated his forces, amounting to about 3000
men, at Corpus Christi. Receiving orders from Washington to proceed to
the Rio Grande, the general, with his little army, moved westward in
March, 1846; and after considerable suffering from the heat and the
want of food and water, reached the banks of the river opposite
Matamoras on the 28th of the month. Colonel Twiggs, with a detachment
of dragoons, in the mean time took possession of Point Isabel,
situated on an arm of the Gulf, about 25 miles east. General Taylor
took every means to assure the Mexicans that his purpose was not war,
nor violence in any shape, but solely the occupation of the Texian
territory to the Rio Grande, until the boundary should be definitively
settled by the two republics.
After encamping opposite Matamoras, the American general prepared with
great activity for Mexican aggression, by erecting fortifications, and
planting batteries. The Mexicans speedily evinced hostile intentions.
General Ampudia arrived at Matamoras with 1000 cavalry and 1500
infantry, and made overtures to our foreign soldiers to ‘separate from
the Yankee bandits, and array themselves under the tri-colored flag!’
Such solicitations were of course spurned with contempt. The American
general was summoned to withdraw his forces at the penalty of being
treated as an enemy; he replied that, while avoiding all occasion for
hostilities, he should faithfully execute the will of his government.
General Arista soon after arrived at Matamoras, and, superseding
Ampudia, issued a proclamation to the American soldiers, begging them
not to be the ‘blind instruments of unholy and mad ambition, and rush
on to certain death.’ He immediately threw a large body of troops over
the river, in order to cut off all communication between General
Taylor and his dépôt at Point Isabel. A detachment of 61 soldiers,
under Captain Thornton, was waylaid by a Mexican force of ten times
their number, and after a bloody conflict and the loss of many lives,
was obliged to surrender. With but eight days’ rations, and the
country to the east fast filling up with the Mexican troops, the
position of General Taylor became very critical. He at once resolved,
at every hazard, to procure additional supplies; and, leaving the fort
under the command of Major Brown, he set out with a large portion of
his army, on the 1st of May, for Point Isabel. He reached that place
the next day, without molestation. Soon after his departure, the
Mexicans opened their batteries upon Fort Brown. The fire was steadily
returned with two long eighteen and sixteen brass six pounders by the
garrison, which numbered about 900 men. The bombardment of the fort
was kept up at intervals from batteries in its rear, as well as from
the town, for six days. The Americans, though possessed of little
ammunition, and having to mourn the fall of their gallant commander,
sustained the cannonade with unyielding firmness until the afternoon
of the 8th, when their hearts were thrilled with exultation by the
answering peal of General Taylor at Palo Alto.
On the evening of the 7th, the American general, with about 200 men
and 250 wagons left Point Isabel for the relief of Fort Brown, and
after advancing seven miles encamped. The next morning he resumed his
march, and at noon met 6000 Mexican troops under Arista, with 800
cavalry, and seven field pieces, in line of battle, on a plain flanked
at both sides by small pools, and partly covered in front by thickets
of chaparral and Palo Alto. General Taylor at once halted, refreshed
his men, advanced to within a quarter of a mile of the Mexican line,
and gave battle. The conflict first commenced between the artillery,
and for two hours, Ringgold’s, and Duncan’s, and Churchill’s batteries
mowed down rank after rank of the enemy. The infantry remained idle
spectators until General Torrejon, with a body of lancers, made a
sally upon our train. The advancing columns were received with a
tremendous fire, and faltered, broke, and fled. The battle now became
general, and for a time raged with terrific grandeur, amid a lurid
cloud of smoke from the artillery, and the burning grass of the
prairie. It rested for an hour, and then again moved on. The American
batteries opened with more tremendous effect than ever; yet the ranks
of the enemy were broken only to be refilled by fresh men courting
destruction. Captain May charged upon the left, but with too few men
to be successful. The chivalrous Ringgold fell. The cavalry of the
enemy advanced upon our artillery of the right to within close range,
when a storm of cannister swept them back like a tornado. Their
infantry made a desperate onset upon our infantry, but recoiled before
their terrible reception. Again they rallied, and again were they
repulsed. Panic seized the baffled foe, and soon squadron and column
were in full retreat. The conflict had lasted five hours, with a loss
to the Americans of 7 killed and 37 wounded, and to the Mexicans of at
least 250 killed and wounded.
In the evening, a council of war was held upon the propriety of
persisting to advance upon Fort Brown, in spite of the vastly superior
force of the enemy. Of the thirteen officers present some were for
retreating to Point Isabel, others for intrenching upon the spot, and
only four for pushing ahead. The general, after hearing all opinions,
settled the question by the laconic declaration, ‘I will be at Fort
Brown before to-morrow night, if I live.’ In the morning the army
again marched.
The enemy were again met most advantageously posted in the ravine of
Resaca de la Palma within three miles of Fort Brown. About 4 P. M. the
battle commenced with great fury. By order of General Taylor, May,
with his dragoons, charged the enemy’s batteries. The Mexicans
reserved their fire until the horses were near the cannons’ mouth, and
then poured out a broadside which laid many a poor fellow low. Those
of the dragoons not disabled rushed on, overleaped the batteries, and
seized the guns. The enemy recoiled, again rallied, and with fixed
bayonets returned to the onset. Again they were repulsed. The ‘Tampico
veterans’ came to the rescue, were met by the dragoons now reinforced
with infantry, and all but seventeen fell sword in hand after fighting
with the most deperate bravery. This decided the battle. The flanks of
the enemy were turned, and soon the rout became general. The Mexicans
fled to the flat boats of the river, and the shouts of the pursuers
and the shrieks of the drowning closed the scene. A great number of
prisoners including fourteen officers, eight pieces of artillery, and
a large quantity of camp equipage fell into the hands of the victors.
The American loss was 39 killed and 71 wounded; that of the enemy in
the two actions was at least 1000 killed and wounded. Fort Brown was
relieved, and the next day Barita on the Mexican bank was taken by
colonel Wilson without resistance.
The victories of the 8th and 9th filled our country with exultation.
Government acknowledged the distinguished services of General Taylor
by making him Major-general by brevet; congress passed resolutions of
high approval; Louisiana presented him with a sword, and the press
everywhere teemed with his praise.
As soon as means could be procured, General Taylor crossed the Rio
Grande, took Matamoras without opposition, and made colonel Twiggs its
governor. The army soon received large volunteer reinforcements, and
on the 5th of August the American general left Matamoras for Camargo,
and thence proceeded through Seralos to Monterey, where he arrived the
19th of September. The Mexicans, under General Ampudia, had placed
this strongly fortified town in a complete state of defense. Not only
were the walls and parapets lined with cannons, but the streets and
houses were barricaded and planted with artillery. The bishop’s palace
on a hill at a short distance west of the city was converted into a
perfect fortress. The town was well supplied with ammunition, and
manned with 7000 troops of the line, and from 2000 to 3000 irregulars.
The attack commenced on the 21st, and two important redoubts without
the city, and an important work within, were carried with a loss to
the Americans in killed and wounded of not less than 394. At three the
next morning, a considerable force under General Worth dragged their
howitzers by main strength up the hill, and assaulted the palace. The
enemy made a desperate sortie, but were driven back in confusion, and
the fortification was soon taken by the Americans with a loss of only
7 killed and 12 wounded. The next night, the Mexicans evacuated nearly
all their defenses in the lower part of the city. The Americans
entered the succeeding day, and by the severest fighting slowly worked
their way from street to street and square to square, until they
reached the heart of the town. General Ampudia saw that further
resistance was useless, and, on the morning of the 24th, proposed to
evacuate the city on condition that he might take with him the
personel and materiel of his army. This condition was refused be the
American general. A personal interview between the two commanders
ensued, which resulted in a capitulation of the city, allowing the
Mexicans to retire with their forces and a certain portion of their
materiel beyond the line formed by the pass of the Rinconada and San
Fernando de Presas, and engaging the Americans not to pass beyond that
line for eight weeks. Our entire loss during the operations was 12
officers and 108 men killed, 31 officers and 337 men wounded; that of
the enemy is not known, but was much larger. The terms accorded by the
conqueror were liberal, and dictated by a regard to the interests of
peace; they crowned a gallant conquest of arms with a more sublime
victory of magnanimity.
General Taylor could not long remain inactive, and with a bold design
to seek out the enemy and fight him on his own ground, he marched as
far as Victoria. But by the transfer of the seat of the war to Vera
Cruz, he was deprived of the greater portion of his army, and was
obliged to fall back on Monterey. Here he remained until February,
when, having received large reinforcements of volunteers, he marched
at the head of 4,500 men, to meet Santa Anna; and on the 20th, took up
a position at Buena Vista, the great advantages of which had
previously struck his notice. On the 22d, a Mexican army of 20,000
made its appearance, and Santa Anna summoned the American commander to
surrender. General Taylor, with Spartan brevity, ‘declined acceding to
the request.’ The next morning the ten-hours’ conflict began. We shall
not attempt to rehearse the history of that fearful battle: it is
written forever on the memory of the nation. The advance of the
hostile host with muskets and swords and bayonets gleaming in the
morning sun; the shouts of the marshaled foemen; the opening roar of
the artillery; the sheeted fire of the musketry; the unchecked
approach of the enemy; the outflanking by their cavalry and its
concentration in our rear; the immovable fortitude of the Illinoians;
the flight of the panic-stricken Indianians; the fall of Lincoln; the
wild shouts of Mexican triumph; the deadly and successful charge upon
the battery of O’Brien; the timely arrival of General Taylor from
Saltillo, and his composed survey, amid the iron hail, of the scene of
battle; the terrible onset of the Kentuckians and Illinoians; the
simultaneous opening of the batteries upon the Mexican masses in the
front and the rear; the impetuous but ill-fated charge of their
cavalry upon the rifles of Mississippi; the hemming-in of that
cavalry, and the errand of Lieutenant Crittenden to demand of Santa
Anna its surrender; the response of the confident chieftain by a
similar demand; the immortal rejoinder, ‘General Taylor never
surrenders!’ the escape of the cavalry to a less exposed position; its
baffled charge upon the Saltillo train; its attack upon the hacienda,
and its repulse by the horse of Kentucky and Arkansas; the fall of
Yell and Vaughn; the insolent mission, under a white flag, to inquire
what General Taylor was waiting for; the curt reply ‘for General Santa
Anna to surrender;’ the junction, by this ruse, of the Mexican cavalry
in our rear with their main army; the concentrated charge upon the
American line; the overpowering of the battery of O’Brien; the fearful
crisis; the reinforcement of Captain Bragg ‘by Major Bliss and I;’ the
‘little more grape, Captain Bragg;’ the terrific carnage; the pause,
the advance, the disorder, the retreat; the too eager pursuit of the
Kentuckians and Illinoians down the ravines; the sudden wheeling
around of the retiring mass; the desperate struggle, and the fall of
Harden, McKee, and Clay; the imminent destruction, and the rescuing
artillery; the last breaking and scattering of the Mexican squadrons
and battalions; the joyous embrace of Taylor and Wool; and Old Rough
and Ready’s ‘’Tis impossible to whip us when we all pull together;’
the arrival of cold nightfall; the fireless, anxious, weary bivouac;
the general’s calm repose for another day’s work; the retreat of the
enemy under the cover of darkness――are not all these things familiar
to every American schoolboy? The American loss was 267 killed, 456
wounded, and 23 missing. The Mexicans left 500 dead on the field, and
the whole number of their killed and wounded was probably near 2000.
History tells not of a battle more bravely contested and more nobly
won: and well did the greatest warrior of the age, in learning it,
exclaim, ‘General Taylor’s a general indeed!’
The victory of Buena Vista was the last and crowning achievement of
General Taylor’s military life. His department in Mexico was entirely
reduced by it to subjection, and the subsequent operations of his army
were few and unimportant. At the close of the war he retired from
Mexico, carrying with him not only the adoration of his soldiers, but
even the respect and attachment of the very people he had vanquished.
Louisiana welcomed him with an ovation of the most fervent enthusiasm.
Thrilling eloquence from her most gifted sons, blessings, and smiles,
and wreaths from her fairest daughters, overwhelming huzzas from her
warm-hearted multitudes, triumphal arches, splendid processions,
costly banners, sumptuous festivals, and, in short, every mode of
testifying love and homage was employed; but modesty kept her wonted
place in his heart, and counsels of peace were, as ever, on his
tongue. His prowess in conflict was no more admirable than his self
forgetfulness in triumph.
His last great deed had hardly ceased to echo over the land, before
the people began to mark him out for their highest gift. He coveted no
such distinction, and constantly expressed a wish that Henry Clay
might be the chosen one. But the popular purpose grew stronger and
stronger, and General Taylor was named for the presidency by one of
the great political parties of the country. During the political
contest he remained steadfastly true to himself. He neither stooped
nor swerved, neither sought nor shunned. He was borne by a triumphant
majority to the presidential chair, and in a way that has impelled the
most majestic intellect of the nation to declare, that ‘no case ever
happened in the very best days of the Roman Republic, where any man
found himself clothed with the highest authority of the state under
circumstances more repelling all suspicion of personal application,
all suspicion of pursuing any crooked path in politics, or all
suspicion of having been actuated by sinister views and purposes.’
The inaugural address of President Taylor was redolent with
old-fashioned patriotism, and breathed the very spirit of Washington.
And his subsequent administration, though beset by sectional strifes
of fearful violence, was conducted with wisdom, firmness, equanimity,
and moderation, on great national principles, and for great national
ends. Owing to his profound deference to the coördinate branches of
government, and his inability to either dictate or assume, his policy
in reference to some of the exciting questions of the day was not,
during the short period of his administration, fully proclaimed to
congress, and pressed upon its adoption; but, though a southern man
and a slaveholder, he had deliberately and explicitly declared himself
in favor of the prompt and untrammeled admission of California into
the Union. He was taken away in the midst of the controversy, just as
he was about to submit his views upon the subject to the
representatives of the people. His last public appearance was in doing
homage to Washington, on the birthday of our liberties, and his last
official act was adding a new guaranty to the peace of the world, by
signing the convention recently concluded between our country and
Great Britain respecting Central America. Disease soon did its work.
Confronting Death with the fearless declaration, ‘I AM PREPARED――I
HAVE ENDEAVORED TO DO MY DUTY,’ the old hero succumbed――his first and
last surrender.
General Taylor married in early life a lady of Virginia, and was
connected either by affinity or blood, with many of the most noted
families of the Old Dominion. His excellent consort, a son, and a
daughter, survive him. In person, General Taylor was about five feet
eight inches in height, and like most of our revolutionary generals,
was inclined to corpulency. His hair was gray, his brow ample, his eye
vivid, and his features plain but full of firmness, intelligence and
benevolence. His manners were easy and cordial, his dress, habits, and
tastes simple, and his style of living temperate in the extreme. His
speeches and his official papers, both military and civil, are alike
famed for their propriety of feeling and their chastity of diction.
His private life was unblemished, and the loveliness of his
disposition made him the idol of his own household and the favorite of
all who knew him. His martial courage was only equaled by his Spartan
simplicity, his unaffected modesty, his ever wakeful humanity, his
inflexible integrity, his uncompromising truthfulness, his lofty
magnanimity, his unbounded patriotism, and his unfaltering loyalty to
duty. His mind was of an original and solid cast, admirably balanced,
and combining the comprehensiveness of reason with the penetration of
instinct. Its controlling element was a strong, sterling sense, that
of itself rendered him a wise counselor and a safe leader. All of his
personal attributes and antecedents made him preëminently a man of the
people, and remarkably qualified him to be the stay and surety of his
country in its day of danger.
A braver soldier never wielded sword――
A gentler heart did never sway in council.
But he is dead――and millions weep his loss.