PRONOUNCED BY HON. ABRAHAM LINCOLN ON THE LIFE AND SERVICES OF THE LATE
PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES
General Zachary Taylor, the eleventh elected President of the United
States, is dead. He was born, November 2, 1784, in Orange County,
Virginia; and died July 9, 1850, in the sixty-sixth year of his age, at
the White House in Washington City.
He was the second son of Richard Taylor, a Colonel in the Army of the
Revolution. His youth was passed among the pioneers of Kentucky, whither
his parents emigrated soon after his birth; and where his taste for
military life, probably inherited, was greatly stimulated. Near the
commencement of our last war with Great Britain, he was appointed, by
President Jefferson, a Lieutenant in the Seventh Regiment of Infantry.
During the war, he served under General Harrison in his North-Western
campaign against the Indians; and, having been promoted to a Captaincy,
was entrusted with the defense of Fort Harrison, with fifty men, half of
them unfit for duty. A strong party of Indians, under the Prophet,
brother of Tecumseh, made a midnight attack upon the Fort; but Taylor,
though weak in his force, and without preparation, was resolute and on
the alert; and after a battle, which lasted till after daylight,
completely repulsed them. Soon after, he took a prominent part in the
expedition under Major-General Hopkins against the Prophet's town; and
on his return, found a letter from President Madison, who had succeeded
Mr. Jefferson, conferring on him a Major's brevet for his gallant
defense of Fort Harrison.
After the close of the British war, he remained in the frontier service
of the West, till 1818. He was then transferred to the Southern
frontier, where he remained, most of the time, in active service till
1826. In 1819, and during his service in the South, he was promoted to
the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel. In 1826 he was again sent to the
North-West, where he continued until 1836. In 1832 he was promoted to
the rank of Colonel. In 1836 he was ordered to the South to engage in
what is well known as the Florida War. In the autumn of 1837 he fought
and conquered in the memorable Battle of Okeechobee, one of the most
desperate struggles known to the annals of Indian warfare. For this he
was honored with the rank of Brigadier-General; and in 1838 was
appointed to succeed General Jessup in command of the forces in Florida.
In 1841 he was ordered to Fort Gibson to take command of the Second
Military Department of the United States; and in September, 1844, was
directed to hold the troops between the Red River and the Sabine in
readiness to march as might be indicated by the charge of the United
States, near Texas. In 1845 his forces were concentrated at Corpus
Christi.
In obedience to orders, in March, 1846, he planted his troops on the Rio
Grande opposite Matamoros. Soon after this, and near this place, a small
detachment of General Taylor's forces, under Captain Thornton, was cut
to pieces by a party of Mexicans. Open hostilities being thus commenced,
and General Taylor being constantly menaced by Mexican forces vastly
superior to his own in numbers, his position became exceedingly
critical. Having erected a fort, he might defend himself against great
odds while he could remain within it; but his provisions had failed, and
there was no supply nearer than Point Isabel, between which and the new
fort the country was open to, and full of, armed Mexicans. His
resolution was at once taken. He garrisoned Fort Brown (the new fort)
with a force of about four hundred; and, putting himself at the head of
the main body of his troops, marched forthwith for Point Isabel. He met
no resistance on his march. Having obtained his supplies, he began his
return march, to the relief of Fort Brown, which he at first knew would
be, and then knew had been, besieged by the enemy, immediately upon his
leaving it. On the first or second day of his return march, the Mexican
General, Arista, met General Taylor in front, and offered battle. The
Mexicans numbered six or eight thousand, opposed to whom were about two
thousand Americans. The moment was a trying one. Comparatively, Taylor's
forces were but a handful; and few, of either officers or men, had ever
been under fire. A brief council was held; and the result was the battle
commenced. The issue of that contest all remember--remember with
mingled sensations of pride and sorrow, that then American valor and
powers triumphed, and then the gallant and accomplished and noble
Ringgold fell.
The Americans passed the night on the field. The General knew the enemy
was still in his front; and the question rose upon him, whether to
advance or retreat. A council was again held; and it is said, the
General overruled the majority, and resolved to advance. Accordingly, in
the morning, he moved rapidly forward. At about four or five miles from
Fort Brown he again met the enemy in force, who had selected his
position, and made some hasty fortifications. Again the battle
commenced, and raged till nightfall, when the Mexicans were entirely
routed, and the General, with his fatigued and bleeding and reduced
battalions, marched into Fort Brown. There was a joyous meeting. A brief
hour before, whether all within had perished, all without feared, but
none could tell--while the incessant roar of artillery wrought those
within to the highest pitch of apprehension, that their brethren without
were being massacred to the last man. And now the din of battle nears
the fort, and sweeps obliquely by: a gleam of hope flies through the
half-imprisoned few; they fly to the wall; every eye is strained; it
is--it is--the Stars and Stripes are still aloft! Anon the anxious
brethren meet; and while hand strikes hand, the heavens are rent with a
loud, long, glorious, gushing cry of Victory! Victory!! Victory!!!
Soon after these battles, General Taylor was brevetted a Major-General
in the United States Army.
In the meantime, war having been declared to exist between the United
States and Mexico, provision was made to reinforce General Taylor; and
he was ordered to march into the interior of Mexico. He next marched
upon Monterey, arriving there on the nineteenth of September. He
commenced an assault upon the city, on the twenty-first; and on the
twenty-third, was about carrying it at the point of the bayonet, when
General Ampudia capitulated. Taylor's forces consisted of four hundred
and twenty-five officers, and nine thousand two hundred and twenty men.
His artillery consisted of one ten-inch mortar, two twenty-four-pound
howitzers, and eight field batteries of four guns, the mortar being the
only piece serviceable for the siege. The Mexican works were armed with
forty-two pieces of cannon, and manned with a force of at least seven
thousand troops of the line, and from two to three thousand irregulars.
Next we find him advancing farther into the interior of Mexico, at the
head of five thousand four hundred men, not more than six hundred being
regular troops.
At Agua Nueva, he received intelligence that Santa Anna, the greatest
military chieftain of Mexico, was advancing after him; and he fell back
to Buena Vista, a strong position a few miles in advance of Saltillo. On
the twenty-second of February, 1847, the battle, now called the Battle
of Buena Vista, was commenced by Santa Anna at the head of twenty
thousand well-appointed soldiers. This was General Taylor's great
battle. The particulars of it are familiar to all. It continued through
the twenty-third; and although General Taylor's defeat seemed
inevitable, yet he succeeded by skill, and by the courage and devotion
of his officers and men, in repulsing the overwhelming forces of the
enemy, and throwing them back into the desert. This was the battle of
the chiefest interest fought during the Mexican War. At the time it was
fought, and for some weeks after, General Taylor's communication with
the United States was cut off; and the road was in possession of parties
of the enemy. For many days after full intelligence of it should have
been in all parts of this country, nothing certain concerning it was
known, while vague and painful rumors were afloat, that a great battle
had been fought, and that General Taylor and his whole force had been
annihilated. At length the truth came, with its thrilling details of
victory and blood,--of glory and grief. A bright and glowing page was
added to our Nation's history; but then, too, in eternal silence, lay
Clay and McKee and Yell and Lincoln, and our own beloved Hardin.
This was also General Taylor's last battle. He remained in active
service in Mexico till the autumn of the same year, when he returned to
the United States.
Passing in review General Taylor's military history, some striking
peculiarities will appear. No one of the six battles which he fought,
except, perhaps, that of Monterey, presented a field which would have
been selected by an ambitious captain upon which to gather laurels. So
far as fame is concerned, the prospect--the promise in advance--was,
"You may lose, but you cannot win." Yet Taylor, in his blunt,
business-like view of things, seems never to have thought of this.
It did not happen to General Taylor, once in his life, to fight a battle
on equal terms, or on terms advantageous to himself--and yet he was
never beaten, and he never retreated. In all, the odds were greatly
against him; in each, defeat seemed inevitable; and yet in all he
triumphed. Wherever he has led, while the battle still raged, the issue
was painfully doubtful; yet in each and all, when the din had ceased,
and the smoke had blown away, our country's flag was still seen,
fluttering in the breeze.
General Taylor's battles were not distinguished for brilliant military
maneuvers; but in all he seems rather to have conquered by the exercise
of a sober and steady judgment, coupled with a dogged incapacity to
understand that defeat was possible. His rarest military trait was a
combination of negatives--absence of excitement and absence of fear. He
could not be flurried, and he could not be scared.
In connection with General Taylor's military character may be mentioned
his relations with his brother officers, and his soldiers. Terrible as
he was to his country's enemies, no man was so little disposed to have
difficulty with his friends. During the period of his life, dueling was
a practice not quite uncommon among gentlemen in the peaceful avocations
of life, and still more common among the officers of the Army and Navy,
yet, so far as I can learn, a duel with General Taylor has never been
talked of.
He was alike averse to sudden and to startling quarrels; and he pursued
no man with revenge. A notable and a noble instance of this is found in
his conduct to the gallant and now lamented General Worth. A short while
before the battles of the eighth and ninth of May, some question of
precedence arose between Worth (then a Colonel) and some other officer,
which question it seems it was General Taylor's duty to decide. He
decided against Worth. Worth was greatly offended, left the Army, came
to the United States, and tendered his resignation to the authorities at
Washington. It is said, that in his passionate feeling, he hesitated not
to speak harshly and disparagingly of General Taylor. He was an officer
of the highest character; and his word, on military subjects, and about
military men, could not, with the country, pass for nothing. In this
absence from the Army of Colonel Worth, the unexpected turn of things
brought in the battles of the eighth and ninth. He was deeply
mortified--in almost absolute desperation--at having lost the
opportunity of being present, and taking part in those battles. The
laurels won by his previous service, in his own eyes, seemed withering
away. The Government, both wisely and generously, I think, declined
accepting his resignation; and he returned to General Taylor. Then came
General Taylor's opportunity for revenge. The Battle of Monterey was
approaching and even at hand. Taylor could, if he would, so place Worth
in that battle, that his name would scarcely be noticed in the report.
But no. He felt it was due to the service to assign the real post of
honor to some one of the best officers; he knew Worth was one of the
best, and he felt that it was generous to allow him, then and there, to
retrieve his secret loss. Accordingly, he assigned to Colonel Worth in
that assault, what was _par excellence_ the post of honor; and the
duties of which he executed so well and so brilliantly as to eclipse, in
that battle, even General Taylor, himself.
As to General Taylor's relations with his soldiers, details would be
endless. It is perhaps enough to say--and it is far from the least of
his honors that we can truly say--that of the many who served with him,
through the long course of forty years, all testify to the uniform
kindness, and his constant care for, and hearty sympathy with, their
every want and every suffering; while none can be found to declare that
he was ever a tyrant anywhere, in anything.
Going back a little in point of time, it is proper to say that so soon
as the news of the battles of the eighth and ninth of May, 1846, had
fairly reached the United States, General Taylor began to be named for
the next Presidency, by letter writers, newspapers, public meetings and
conventions in various parts of the country.
These nominations were generally put forth as being of no-party
character. Up to this time I think it highly probable--nay, almost
certain--that General Taylor had never thought of the Presidency in
connection with himself. And there is reason for believing that the
first intelligence of these nominations rather amused than seriously
interested him. Yet I should be insincere, were I not to confess that,
in my opinion, the repeated and steady manifestations in his favor did
beget in his mind a laudable ambition to reach the high distinction of
the Presidential chair.
As the time for the Presidential canvass approached, it was seen that
general nominations, combining anything near the number of votes
necessary to an election, could not be made without some pretty strong
and decided reference to party politics. Accordingly, in the month of
May, 1848, the great Democratic Party nominated as their candidate an
able and distinguished member of their own party [General Cass] on
strictly party grounds. Almost immediately following this, the Whig
Party, in General Convention, nominated General Taylor as their
candidate. The election came off in the November following, and though
there was also a third candidate, the two former only received any vote
in the electoral college. General Taylor, having the majority of them,
was duly elected; and he entered on the duties of that high and
responsible office, March 5, 1849. The incidents of his administration,
up to the time of his death, are too familiar and too fresh to require
any direct repetition.
The Presidency, even to the most experienced politicians, is no bed of
roses; and General Taylor, like others, found thorns within it. No
human being can fill that station and escape censure. Still, I hope and
believe, when General Taylor's official conduct shall come to be viewed
in the calm light of history, he will be found to have deserved as
little as any who have succeeded him.
Upon the death of General Taylor, as it would be in the case of any
President, we are naturally led to consider what will be its effect,
politically, upon the country. I will not pretend to believe that all
the wisdom, or all of the patriotism of the country, died with General
Taylor. But we know that wisdom and patriotism, in a public office under
institutions like ours, are wholly inefficient and worthless, unless
they are sustained by the confidence and devotion of the people. And I
confess my apprehensions, that in the death of the late President, we
have lost a degree of that confidence and devotion which will not soon
again pertain to any successor. Between public measures regarded as
antagonistic, there is often less real difference in their bearing on
the public weal, than there is between the dispute being kept up or
being settled either way. I fear the one great question of the day is
not now so likely to be partially acquiesced in by the different
sections of the Union, as it would have been could General Taylor have
been spared to us. Yet, under all circumstances, trusting to our Maker
and through His wisdom and beneficence to the great body of our people,
we will not despair, nor despond.
In General Taylor's general public relation to his country, what will
strongly impress a close observer was his unostentatious,
self-sacrificing, long-enduring devotion to his duty. He indulged in no
recreations, he visited no public places seeking applause; but quietly,
as the earth in its orbit, he was always at his post. Along our whole
Indian frontier, through summer and winter, in sunshine and storm, like
a sleepless sentinel, he has watched while we have slept for forty long
years. How well might the dying hero say at last, "I have done my duty,
I am ready to go."
Nor can I help thinking that the American people, in electing General
Taylor to the Presidency, thereby showing their high appreciation of his
sterling, but inobtrusive qualities, did their country a service, and
themselves an imperishable honor. It is much for the young to know that
treading the hard path of duty as he trod it will be noticed, and will
lead to high places.
But he is gone. The conqueror at last is conquered. The fruits of his
labor, his name, his memory and example, are all that is left us--his
example, verifying the great truth that "he that humbleth himself, shall
be exalted"--teaching that to serve one's country with a singleness of
purpose gives assurances of that country's gratitude, secures its best
honors, and makes "a dying bed, soft as downy pillows are."
The death of the last President may not be without its use, in reminding
us that we, too, must die. Death, abstractly considered, is the same
with the high as with the low; but practically we are not so much
aroused by the contemplation of our own mortal natures, by the fall of
many undistinguished, as that of one great and well-known name. By the
latter, we are forced to muse, and ponder sadly,
"O, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?"
So the multitude goes, like the flower or the weed,
That withers away, to let others succeed;
So the multitude comes, even those we behold,
To repeat every tale that has often been told.
For we are same that our fathers have been;
We see the same sights our fathers have seen,--
We drink the same streams, and see the same sun,
And run the same course our fathers have run.
They loved, but the story we cannot unfold;
They scorned, but the heart of the haughty is cold;
They grieved, but no wail from their slumbers will come;
They rejoiced, but the tongue of their gladness is dumb.
They died! Aye, they died. We, things that are now,
That work on the turf that lies on their brow
And make in their dwellings a transient abode,
Meet the things that they met on their pilgrimage road.
Yea! hope and despondency, pleasure and pain
Are mingled together in sunshine and rain--
And the smile and the tear, and the song and the dirge
Still follow each other like surge upon surge.
'Tis the wink of an eye, 'tis the draught of a breath,
From the blossom of health, to the paleness of death--
From the gilded saloon, to the bier and the shroud,
O why should the spirit of mortal be proud?