In November, 1804, the Sac and Fox Indians, in return for a paltry
annuity of a thousand dollars, ceded to the United States fifty million
acres of land in eastern Missouri, northwestern Illinois, and
southwestern Wisconsin. There was an unfortunate clause in this compact,
which quite unexpectedly became one of the chief causes of the Black
Hawk War of 1832; instead of obliging the Indians at once to vacate the
ceded territory, it was stipulated that, "as long as the lands which are
now ceded to the United States remain their property, the Indians
belonging to said tribes shall enjoy the privilege of living and hunting
on them."
Within the limits of the cession was the chief seat of Sac power, a
village lying on the north side of Rock River, three miles above its
mouth. It was picturesquely situated on fertile ground, contained the
principal cemetery of the tribe, and was inhabited by about five hundred
families, being one of the largest Indian towns on the continent.
From the beginning of the nineteenth century, the principal character in
this village was Black Hawk, who was born here in 1767. Black Hawk was
neither an hereditary nor an elected chief, but was, by common consent,
the village headman. He was a restless, ambitious, handsome savage; was
possessed of some of the qualities of successful leadership, was much of
a demagogue, and aroused the passions of his people by appeals to their
prejudices and superstitions. It is probable that he was never, in the
exercise of this policy, dishonest in his motives. A too confiding
disposition was ever leading his judgment astray; he was readily duped
by those who, white or red, were interested in deceiving him. The effect
of his daily communication with the Americans was often to shock rudely
his high sense of honor; while the studied courtesy accorded him upon
his annual begging visit to the British military agent at Malden, in
Canada, contrasted strangely, in his eyes, with his experiences with
many of the inhabitants on the Illinois border.
[Illustration: BLACK HAWK]
At the outbreak of hostilities between Great Britain and the United
States in 1812, Black Hawk naturally allied himself with Tecumseh and
the British. After burying the hatchet, he settled down into the
customary routine of savage life, hunting in winter and loafing about
his village in summer, improvidently existing from hand to mouth,
although surrounded with abundance. Occasionally he varied the monotony
by visits to Malden, whence he would return laden with provisions, arms,
ammunition, and trinkets, his stock of vanity increased by wily
flattery, and his bitterness against the Americans correspondingly
intensified. It is not at all surprising that he hated the Americans.
They brought him naught but evil. The even tenor of his life was
continually being disturbed by them; and a cruel and causeless beating
which some white settlers gave him, in the winter of 1822-23, was an
insult which he treasured up against the entire American people.
In the summer of 1823, squatters, covetous of the rich fields cultivated
by the "British band," as Black Hawk's people were often called, began
to take possession of them. The treaty of 1804 had guaranteed to the
Indians the use of the ceded territory so long as the lands remained the
property of the United States and were not sold to individuals. The
frontier line of homestead settlement was still fifty or sixty miles to
the east; the country between had not yet been surveyed, and much of it
not explored. The squatters had no rights in this territory, and it was
clearly the duty of the general government to protect the Indians within
it so long as no sales were made.
The Sacs would not have complained had the squatters settled in other
portions of the tract, and not sought to steal the village which was
their birthplace and contained the cemetery of their tribe. There were
outrages of the most flagrant nature. Indian cornfields were fenced in
by the intruders, squaws and children were whipped for venturing beyond
the bounds thus set, lodges were burned over the heads of the occupants.
A reign of terror ensued, in which the frequent remonstrances of Black
Hawk to the white authorities were in vain. Year by year the evil grew.
When the Indians returned each spring from the winter's hunt, they found
their village more of a wreck than when they had left it in the fall. It
is surprising, in view of their native love of revenge, that they acted
so peaceably while the victims of such harsh treatment.
Returning to his village in the spring of 1831, after a gloomy and
profitless winter's hunt, Black Hawk was fiercely warned away by the
whites; but, in a firm and dignified manner, he notified the settlers
that, if they did not themselves remove, he should use force. This
announcement was construed by the whites as a threat against their
lives. Petitions and messages were showered in by them upon Governor
John Reynolds, of Illinois, setting forth the situation in exaggerated
terms that would be amusing, were it not that they were the prelude to
one of the darkest tragedies in the history of our Western border.
The governor caught the spirit of the occasion, and at once issued a
flaming proclamation calling out a mounted volunteer force to "repel the
invasion of the British band." These volunteers, sixteen hundred strong,
cooperated with ten companies of regulars in a demonstration before
Black Hawk's village on the 25th of June. During that night the Indians,
in the face of this superior force, quietly withdrew to the west bank of
the Mississippi, whither they had previously been ordered. On the 30th
they signed a treaty of capitulation and peace, solemnly agreeing never
to return to the east side of the river without express permission of
the United States government.
The rest of the summer was spent by the evicted savages in a state of
misery. It being now too late to raise another crop of corn and beans,
they suffered for want of the actual necessaries of life. White Cloud,
the eloquent and crafty Prophet of the Winnebagoes, was Black Hawk's
evil genius. He was half Sac and half Winnebago, a hater of the whites,
an inveterate mischief maker, and, being a "medicine man," possessed
much influence over both tribes. He was at the head of a Winnebago
village some thirty-five miles above the mouth of the Rock, on the east
side of the Mississippi; and to this village he invited Black Hawk,
advising him to raise a crop of corn there, with the assurance that in
the autumn the Winnebagoes and Pottawattomies would join him in a
general movement against the whites in the valley of the Rock.
Relying on these rose-colored promises, Black Hawk spent the winter on
the west bank of the Mississippi, recruiting his band, and on the 6th of
April, 1832, crossed the great river at Yellow Banks, below the mouth of
the Rock. Thus he invaded the State of Illinois, in the face of his
solemn treaty of the year before. With him were his second in command,
Neapope, a wily scoundrel, who was White Cloud's tool, and about five
hundred Sac warriors with their women and children, and all their
belongings. Their design was to carry out the advice of the Prophet, in
regard to the corn planting, and if possible to take up the hatchet in
the autumn.
But it became evident to Black Hawk, before he reached the Prophet's
town, that the main body of the Pottawattomies, now controlled by the
peace loving Chief Shaubena, did not intend to go to war; and that the
rascally Winnebagoes, while cajoling him, were preparing as usual to
play double. He tells us in his autobiography that, crestfallen, he was
planning to return peacefully to the west side of the Mississippi, when
of a sudden he became aware that the whites had raised an army against
him, and he was confronted with a war not in the time and manner of his
asking.
The news of his second invasion had spread like wildfire throughout the
Illinois and Wisconsin settlements. The United States was appealed to
for a regiment of troops; and meanwhile, under another fiery
proclamation from the governor of Illinois, an army of eighteen hundred
militiamen was quickly mustered. Amid intense popular excitement, during
which many settlers fled from the country, and others hastily threw up
log forts, the army was mobilized by General Atkinson, who appeared at
the rendezvous with three hundred regulars. There were many notable men
upon this expedition: Abraham Lincoln, then a rawboned young fellow, was
captain of a company of Illinois rangers; Zachary Taylor, famous for his
bluff manner, was a colonel of regulars; and Jefferson Davis, who was
wooing Taylor's daughter, was one of his lieutenants; also of the
regulars, was Major William S. Harney, afterward the hero of Cerro Gordo
in the Mexican War; and the mustering-in officer was Lieutenant Robert
Anderson, who was to become famous in connection with Fort Sumter.
Black Hawk was foolish enough to send a message of defiance to General
Atkinson, and, retreating up the Rock, he came to a stand at Stillman's
Creek. Here he repented, and sent out runners with a flag of truce, to
inform the white chief that he would surrender; but the drunken pickets
of the militia advance wantonly killed these messengers of peace. This
so angered the Hawk that with a mere handful of thirty-five braves, on
foot, and hid in the hazel brush, he turned in fury upon the two hundred
seventy-five horsemen who were now rushing upon him. The cowardly
rangers, who fled at the first volley of the savages, without returning
it, were haunted by the genius of fear, and, dashing madly through
swamps and creeks, did not stop until they had reached Dixon,
twenty-five miles away. Many kept on at a keen gallop till they reached
their own firesides, fifty or more miles farther, carrying the absurd
report that Black Hawk and two thousand bloodthirsty warriors were
sweeping northern Illinois with the besom of destruction.
Rich in supplies captured in this first encounter, and naturally
encouraged at the result of his valor, the Hawk thought that so long as
the whites were determined to make him fight, he would show his claws
in earnest. Removing the women and children to far-away swamps on the
headwaters of the Rock River, in Wisconsin, he thence descended with his
braves for a general raid through northern Illinois. The borderers flew
like chickens to cover, on the warning of the Hawk's foray. There was
consternation throughout the entire West. Exaggerated reports of his
forces, and of the nature of his expedition, were spread throughout the
land. His name became coupled with fabulous tales of savage cunning and
cruelty, and served as a household bugaboo the country over. The effect
on the Illinois militia was singular enough, considering their haste in
taking the field; in a frenzy of fear, they instantly disbanded!
A fresh levy was soon raised, but in the interval there were irregular
hostilities all along the Illinois-Wisconsin border, in which Black Hawk
and a few Winnebago and Pottawattomie allies succeeded in making life
miserable enough for the frontier farmers of northern Illinois and the
lead miners of southwest Wisconsin. In these border strifes fully two
hundred whites and nearly as many Indians lost their lives; and there
were numerous instances of romantic heroism on the part of the settlers,
men and women alike.
In about three weeks after Stillman's defeat the reorganized militia
took the field, reenforced by the regulars under Atkinson. Black Hawk
was forced to fly to the swampy region of the upper Rock; but, when the
pursuit became too warm, he hastily withdrew with his entire band
westward to the Wisconsin River. Closely following upon his trail were a
brigade of Illinois troops under General James D. Henry, and a
battalion of Wisconsin lead mine rangers under Major Henry Dodge,
afterwards governor of Wisconsin Territory.
The pursuers came up with the savages at Prairie du Sac. Here the south
bank of the Wisconsin consists of steep, grassy bluffs, three hundred
feet in height; hence the encounter which ensued is known in history as
the Battle of the Wisconsin Heights. With consummate skill, Black Hawk
made a stand on the summit of the heights, and with a small party of
warriors held the whites in check until the noncombatants had crossed
the broad river bottoms below, and gained shelter upon the willow-grown
shore opposite. The loss on either side was slight, the action being
notable only for the Sac leader's superior management.
During the night, the passage of the river was accomplished by the
fugitives. A large party was sent downstream upon a raft, and in canoes
begged from the Winnebagoes; but those who took this method of escape
were brutally fired upon near the mouth of the river by a detachment
from the garrison at Prairie du Chien, and fifteen were killed in cold
blood. The rest of the pursued, headed by Black Hawk, who had again made
an attempt to surrender his forces, but had failed for lack of an
interpreter, pushed across country, guided by Winnebagoes, to the mouth
of the Bad Ax, a little stream emptying into the Mississippi about forty
miles above the mouth of the Wisconsin River. His intention was to get
his people as quickly as possible on the west bank of the Mississippi,
in the hope that they would there be allowed to remain in peace.
The Indians were followed, three days behind, by the united army of
regulars, who steadily gained on them. The country between Wisconsin
Heights and the Mississippi is rough and forbidding in character; there
are numerous swamps and rivers between the steep, thickly wooded hills.
The uneven pathway was strewn with the corpses of Sacs who had died of
wounds and starvation; and there were frequent evidences that the
fleeing wretches were sustaining life on the bark of trees and the flesh
of their fagged-out ponies.
On Wednesday, the 1st of August, Black Hawk and his now sadly depleted
and almost famished band reached the junction of the Bad Ax with the
Mississippi. There were only two or three canoes to be had, and the
crossing of the Father of Waters progressed slowly and with frequent
loss of life. That afternoon there appeared upon the scene a government
supply steamer, the _Warrior_, from Fort Crawford (Prairie du Chien), at
the mouth of the Wisconsin. The Indians a third time tried to surrender,
but their white flag was deliberately fired at, and round after round of
canister swept the camp.
The next day the pursuing troops arrived on the heights above the river
bench, the _Warrior_ again opened its attack, and thus, caught between
two galling fires, the little army of savages soon melted away. But
fifty remained alive on the spot to be taken prisoners. Some three
hundred weaklings had reached the Iowa shore through the hail of iron
and lead. Of these three hundred helpless, half-starved, unarmed
noncombatants, over a half were slaughtered by a party of Sioux, under
Wabashaw, who had been sent out by our government to waylay them. So
that out of the band of a thousand Indians who had crossed the
Mississippi over into Illinois in April, not more than a hundred and
fifty, all told, lived to tell the tragic story of the Black Hawk War, a
tale that stains the American name with dishonor.
The rest can soon be told. The Winnebago guerrillas, who had played fast
and loose during the campaign, delivered to the whites at Fort Crawford
the unfortunate Black Hawk, who had fled from the Bad Ax to the Dells of
the Wisconsin River, to seek an asylum with his false friends. The proud
old man, shorn of all his strength, was presented to the President at
Washington, imprisoned in Fortress Monroe, forced to sign articles of
perpetual peace, and then turned over for safe keeping to the Sac chief,
Keokuk, his hated rival. He died on a small reservation in Iowa, in
1838. But he was not even then at peace, for his bones were stolen by an
Illinois physician, for exhibition purposes, and finally were
accidentally consumed by fire in 1853.
Black Hawk, with all the limitations of his race, had in his character a
strength and manliness of fiber that were most remarkable, and displayed
throughout his brief campaign a positive genius for military evolutions.
He may be safely ranked as one of the most interesting specimens of the
North American savage to be met with in history. He was an indiscreet
man. His troubles were brought about by a lack of mental balance, aided
largely by unfortunate circumstances. His was a highly romantic
temperament. He was carried away by mere sentiment, and allowed himself
to be deceived by tricksters. But he was honest, and was more honorable
than many of his conquerors were. He was, above all things, a patriot.
The year before his death, in a speech to a party of whites who were
making a holiday hero of him, he thus forcibly defended his motives:
"Rock River was a beautiful country. I liked my town, my cornfields, and
the home of my people. I fought for them." No poet could have penned for
him a more touching epitaph.