"The weather was both hot and wet, and it is supposed, that, on this journey, he imbibed the seeds of the disease which soon after terminated his existence. This journey was in September. Early in October, the commissioner for adjusting claims with the Sac and Fox tribes, was to meet them at Rock Island, and most of the Indians were there on the first of that month. Black Hawk was taken sick and was unable to accompany them. A violent bilious fever had seized upon him, and on the 3d of October, after an illness of seven days, he died. His only medical attendant was one of the tribe, who knew something of vegetable antidotes, and was called doctor. His wife, who was devotedly attached to him, mourned deeply during his illness. She seemed to have had a presentiment of his approaching death, and said, some days before it occurred, 'he is getting old—he must die—Monotah calls him home.'
"After his death, he was dressed in the uniform presented to him at Washington, by the President or Secretary at War, and placed upon a rude bier, consisting of two poles with bark laid across, on which he was carried by four of his braves to the place of interment, followed by his family and about fifty of the tribe, (the chiefs being all absent.) They seemed deeply affected, and mourned in their usual way, shaking hands, and muttering in guttural tones, prayers to Monotah (their deity) for his safe passage to the land prepared for the reception of all Indians. The grave was six feet deep and of the usual length, situated upon a little eminence about fifty yards from his wigwam. The body was placed in the middle of the grave, in a sitting posture, upon a seat, constructed for the purpose. On his left side the cane given him, as I am informed, by Mr. Henry Clay, was placed upright, with his right hand resting upon it. Many of the old warrior's trophies were placed in the grave, and some Indian garments, together with his favorite weapons. The grave was then covered with plank, and a mound of earth, several feet in height, was thrown up over it, and the whole enclosed with pickets twelve feet in height. At the head of the grave a flag staff was placed, bearing our national banner; and at the foot there stands a post, on which is inscribed, in Indian characters, his age.
"I do not know the exact age of Black Hawk, but understood from him, that he was seventy-two. His virtues commanded the respect of all the whites who knew him. He possessed much magnanimity of soul, and under all the mortifications to which he has been subjected, and the insults that have been heaped upon him by his tribe, and especially by the haughty Keokuk, he maintained, until the last years of his life, a uniform cheerfulness and resignation of mind, which bespoke a conscious superiority."
With this sketch of the last days of Black Hawk, our narrative of his life is closed. After an eventful and restless career of "three score and ten years," this celebrated Sac has been "gathered to his fathers." His name cannot be forgotten, for his deeds are a part of the history of this country. If not distinguished for a high order of talent, or renowned for great warlike achievements, he has not often been surpassed in the history of his race, for those less dazzling virtues, humanity, courage, and love of country. "He was an Indian who had a sense of honor, as well as policy; a man in whom those who know him confided."[15] In the last speech which he made in the last year of his life, in alluding to his difficulties with the whites, he says, "Rock river was a beautiful country—I liked my towns, my cornfields, and the home of my people;—I fought for it,"—a declaration as creditable to the heart of the speaker, as it is important to a just estimate of his conduct, in resisting the removal of his tribe from their native land. The love of country is not confined to civilized life, but swells the heart and nerves the arm of the untutored man of the woods. "I liked my towns, my cornfields, and the home of my people;—I fought for it," should be inscribed over the humble grave of Black Hawk.
Note.—Since writing that portion of the foregoing narrative which treats of the causes of the late war with the Sacs and Foxes, the following article, from the able pen of judge Hall, has met our observation. It was published in the Western Monthly Magazine in 1833, one year after the termination of that conflict. The writer was then a resident of Illinois, and intimately acquainted with the relations existing between the whites and Indians. His remarks are valuable. They embrace a graphic description of the region inhabited by the Sacs and Foxes, and fully sustain the position which we have taken in this volume, that the "Black Hawk war" was the result of unprovoked agressions made by the American people upon the Indians.
"I have just returned from a delightful voyage. I have explored a portion of the exquisitely beautiful shores of the upper Mississippi; and am ready to confess that until now, I had little idea of the extent, the grandeur, or the resources of the west. The world cannot produce such another country as this great valley of ours. Yet to understand its value, one must ascend the Mississippi and the Illinois, and see the noble prairies of the two states which are destined to eclipse all others. I cannot convey to you in adequate language, my admiration of this attractive region. The traveller who visits the western country, and fancies he has acquired any knowledge of it—I say any, by simply tracing the meanders of the Ohio, or spending weeks, or years, if you please, at Cincinnati or Louisville, is very much mistaken. There is much to admire in western Pennsylvania and Virginia; Kentucky and Ohio are full of attraction; but the man who is really an admirer of nature, and would witness the most splendid exhibitions of the creative power, must go to Illinois and Missouri.
"I visited this region for the first time four years ago, while the Sacs and Foxes were at peace with the whites, and before Black Hawk had got to be a great man. They were friendly and well-disposed, and the white people residing near them, would almost as soon have distrusted or disturbed each other, as those peaceful red men. I took great interest in noticing their dwellings, and remarking their deportment, as it was the first occasion I had ever enjoyed of seeing the savage in his own wild home. I had embarked on board a steamboat at St. Louis, intending to take a pleasant excursion to the falls of St. Anthony. The weather was very delightful, only a little too warm; and the river was unfortunately so low, that on arriving at the Des Moines rapids, we found it difficult to ascend them, and above that point, our progress was continually impeded by the difficulty of the navigation. This circumstance, though vexatious to such of the passengers as had business ahead, or families at home, was not disagreeable to one who, like myself, travelled only for amusement, as it afforded opportunities of exploring the romantic shores. We spent a day at the Lower Rapids, and I have seldom seen a more attractive country. The land is high on both sides, and rises gradually in beautiful swells. I saw hundreds of acres covered with the native buckeye, the most beautiful tree of the forest—if, indeed, any can be entitled to that distinction among so great a variety of noble and majestic trees. Beneath, was a rich undergrowth of wild gooseberry bushes. Add to these the beautiful creeper, and the wild honeysuckle, which were occasionally seen, and it is impossible to imagine a vegetation more splendidly luxuriant and ornamental. The whole country is based on rock, and the springs which burst out from the hill sides are clear as crystal and delightfully cold. The shores of the river are plentifully strewed with crystalizations and petrifactions. We picked up some fine specimens of cornelian, and saw a vast number of geodes of every size, from one inch in diameter to fifteen.
"It was Sunday. Have you ever experienced the singular and pleasing associations connected with a sabbath passed in the wilderness? I have often enjoyed these feelings, but never felt them with such force as on this day. It was calm and sultry. The brilliant sunbeams were brightly reflected from the broad bosom of the Mississippi, and the deep green outline of the forest was splendidly illumined, while the deep shadows underneath the foliage afforded an attractive appearance of coolness and seclusion. The passengers and crew were scattered about singly or in small parties, so that when I wandered but a small distance from the vessel, and seated myself on a hill which commanded a view of the river and its banks, I found myself perfectly alone. Not a living object was visible, not a sound was heard, not a leaf or a limb stirred. How different from the streets of a city upon a sabbath morn, when crowds of well-dressed persons are seen moving in every direction; when the cheerful bells are sounding, and the beautiful smiling children are hurrying in troops to Sunday school! Here I was in solitude. I saw not the laborer resting from toil, nor the smile of infancy, nor the christian bowing before his God; but Nature proclaimed a sabbath by the silence that reigned abroad, and the splendor with which she had adorned her works.