“A light and landmark on the cliff of fame.”
He has ever possessed those rare faculties which induce the trust of others; to him has always been consigned the task which involved most of peril and demanded most of the power which overcomes it; and it is singular that every prominent action of his life has been a conflict with an adverse superiority, in which he has always triumphed. The greatest generals of the past have been applauded as fortunate; but Taylor has triumphed, at every step, with fortune against him. He has trusted nothing to luck; his achievements have been the result of a genius fertile in resources, prompt in their application, resolute to the exclusion of a doubt, and energetic to compel the result which had been determined upon.
The outrages of England upon our commerce fired every generous spirit in the west, and as early as 1808, about the time when the outrage upon the Chesapeake thrilled through every nerve of the republic, young Taylor determined to wed his fortunes with those of his country. The character and the influence of his family readily secured him a commission as lieutenant in the seventh infantry. He addressed himself with characteristic ardor to his profession, and before the war broke out, had arisen to the rank of captain. His first commission was granted by Jefferson, his second and third by Madison, his fourth by Jackson, and his subsequent commissions by Polk. He received the first reward of valor, granted in the last war—a brevet majority; and his rise to his present lofty position has been gained, not from the patient indolence of rank, but from brevets for victories.
The most vulnerable point of our country, in the commencement of the last war, was the sparsely settled West, encompassed as it was by ferocious Indians in the pay of the British Government. This was naturally the sphere of exertion for the young hero. In a war abounding with almost daily and ever deadly skirmishes with the Indians, he was, of course, exposed to a series of perilous adventures which escape the attention of the historian. He was early appointed to the command of one of the most important defences of the west, Fort Harrison. In this post he won the first laurels, and the first brevet, of the late war—the oldest brevet in the army.
Fort Harrison, a rude structure, was garrisoned by fifty men, though but ten or fifteen were in health and effective; and it was crowded with the sick, with women and children. Every precaution had been taken, though it was impossible to raise a guard of more than six men and two commissioned officers. It was known that the Indians, in great strength, were in the vicinity; and at 11 o’clock on the night of September 3d, 1812, the attack was made. The odds were fearful; and the fort, though it contained many souls, could boast few prepared to meet the exigency. The night was dark, and the forests rang with the yells of hundreds of Indians. The little band, forewarned of their danger, were at their posts. But scarcely had the attack been made, before a broad glare of light, rising in the gloom of midnight, informed the feeble garrison that the block-house connected with the fort had been fired by the Indians. Every being, save Taylor, within the fort, was panic-stricken at this terrible intelligence. The alternative seemed a death in the flames, or by the tomahawks of the Indians. The yells of the Indians, the shrieks of the devoted women and children, heard above the reports of the Indian rifles, which poured a death-shower upon the fort, appalled the garrison, who, enveloped in smoke, and exposed by the glare of the conflagration to the rifles of the foe, shrank and cowered. It was the trial-hour that determined the character of the young hero. He rose above the exigency; he rallied his few assistants, disconnected the block-house from the fort, by throwing off the roof, subdued the fire, fortified the gap made by the destruction of the block-house, and, after a desperate encounter of seven hours, drove off the overwhelming force that beleaguered him. The triumph was his alone; for all, save he, had fettered under what seemed an inevitable doom. In his after career he has encountered no darker danger; and this achievement, though small the numbers under his command, forms a worthy opening to the daring and lustrous actions which followed.
He held the fort until the population of the West gathering around him, rendered the post secure. For this achievement he was brevetted by Madison, and admired by the nation; but, although glowing with a desire to distinguish himself in the fields that followed, his orders compelled him to remain in the seat of dangers which he had proved himself so well qualified to encounter. In active and perilous service in this section of the country, he remained until the close of the war, and long after. A soldier of the republic, he has never repined at any duty imposed upon him, and never desired to gratify his ambition by abandoning an humble post to win laurels in other and more favorable fields. He was, however, distinguished in all the operations in the west; and in the expedition of Major Gen. Hopkins, received, in the dispatches of that officer, thanks “for a prompt and effectual support in every instance.”
In the war of 1832, against Black Hawk and his tribe, Col. Taylor was actively engaged. He commanded the regulars, under Gen. Atkinson, in the trying march through the wilderness, in pursuit of Black Hawk; and was at their head in the destructive and decisive battle of the Wisconsin. The result of that battle was the capture of Black Hawk and the Prophet, who were surrendered to Col. Taylor. This sanguinary conflict closed the war.
Col. Taylor remained in the West, in command of different posts, until the period of the Florida War. In this long interval of peace, his attention was directed to study, and to the improvement of his private fortune. He married a lady of Maryland, who blessed his fire-side with one son and two daughters, one of whom married Col. Davis, of the Mississippi regiment, severely wounded at Buena Vista. During this period Col. Taylor, (for in 1832 he was advanced to that rank,) established, throughout the entire west, a reputation for enlarged intelligence, bold sagacity, and high moral character, which marked him out as the hero of an exigency. Such an one arrived, and secured for him the confidence and admiration of the government and the nation.
It is unnecessary to characterize the failures of the Florida War, or the war itself. It is sufficient to say that our boldest and best sank under its hardships, and were left to the wolf of the wilderness, while no encounter won laurels, and no advantage promised success. Col. Taylor was, in 1836, ordered to Florida, and soon became distinguished for his energy, perseverance, and indomitable hardihood and resolution. His determination was to bring the Seminoles to battle, and this was effected by efforts of the most extraordinary character.
On the 19th of December, 1837, he received intelligence that all efforts for conciliation had failed, and being then in command of the first brigade, at Fort Gardiner, he struck into the wilderness. He bore but twelve days’ rations, and had with him about one thousand men. He had learned that the Seminoles and Mickasaukies, under their chiefs, Alligator and Sam Jones, had selected a post deemed impregnable, and that they challenged him to the encounter. Advancing with caution but celerity, and overcoming every obstacle, he arrived on the 25th of December at the point selected by the enemy, upon the lake of Okeechobee. They were concealed in a thick hammock, which could only be approached by a swamp three quarters of a mile in breadth, covered with grass five feet high, and knee deep in mud and water. Our forces advanced; the volunteers were received with a fire from the hammock, and after a brief resistance, retired across the swamp. The regulars, however, persisted in advancing, and drove the enemy back. The struggle was terribly severe. The advantages were all against us. Our officers signalized themselves by their valor, and many of them fell. The battle lasted from half past twelve until three P. M. The immediate command of Col. Taylor suffered most severely; and his own preservation, conspicuous as he was, for he refused to dismount, was almost miraculous. Our victory was complete. The enemy received a blow which, more than any thing that occurred during the war, broke their spirits and prepared them for submission. The loss of Col. Taylor was severe. To use his own words, “besides the killed, there lay one hundred and twelve wounded, officers and soldiers, who had accompanied me one hundred and forty-five miles, most of the way through an unexplored wilderness, without guides, who had so gallantly beaten the enemy, under my orders, in his strongest position.” His humanity was, however, as conspicuous as his valor; and though the wounded were conveyed back to their post with incredible difficulty and labor, every thing was done which the most delicate sensibility could have suggested in their behalf. The detachment commanded by Col. Taylor in this desperate encounter numbered about five hundred. The enemy were seven hundred strong, and from their concealment, and the extraordinary advantages of their position, confidently calculated upon a victory. The battle was the most successful of the war; and the victory was only won by an extraordinary effort of heroism—more than one-fourth of the whole number engaged being killed or wounded.