Famous American Statesmen

After a time the "orders" came, but what was the astonishment and indignation of both officers and men to hear that their services were not needed, as the British evidently did not intend to attack New Orleans; that they were to disband and return to Tennessee. Without pay or rations, five hundred miles from home! – Jackson felt that it was an insult. He took an oath that they should never disband till they were at their own doors; that he would conduct his brave three thousand through the wilderness and the Indian tribes, and be responsible for expenses. One hundred and fifty of his men were ill. He put those who could ride on horses, and then, walking at their head, led the gallant company toward home.

The soldiers used to say that he was "tough as hickory;" then "Old Hickory" grew to be a term of endearment, which he bore ever afterward. A month later, and the disappointed soldiers were at Nashville. Before they disbanded, they were marched out upon the public square, and received a superb stand of colors. The needle-work was on white satin; eighteen orange stars in a crescent, with two sprigs of laurel, and the words, "Tennessee Volunteers – Independence, in a state of war, is to be maintained on the battle-ground of the Republic. The tented field is the post of honor. Presented by the ladies of East Tennessee." Under these words were all the implements of war; cannons, muskets, drums, swords, and the like. Jackson and his men never forgot this offering of love, and showed themselves worthy of it in after years.

If Jackson was not needed at New Orleans, he was soon needed elsewhere. Tecumseh, the great Indian chief, saw the lands of his fathers passing into the hands of the white men. He had long been uniting the western tribes from Florida to the northern lakes, and, now that we were at war with England, he believed the hour of their delivery was come. He at once incited the Creeks of Alabama to arms.

In the southern portion of that State, forty miles north of Mobile, stood Fort Mims. The whites had become alarmed at the hostile attitude of the Indians, and over five hundred men, women, and children had crowded into the fort for safety. On the 30th of August, 1813, a thousand Creek warriors in their war paint and feathers, uttering their terrible war-whoops, rushed into the fort, tomahawked the men and women, and trampled the children into the dust. The buildings were burned, and the plain was covered with dead bodies. The massacre at Fort Mims blanched every face and embittered every heart. The Tennesseans offered at once to march against the Creeks. The hot-headed General Jackson had been wounded in a quarrel with Thomas H. Benton, and was suffering from the ball in his shoulder, which he carried there for twenty years. But he put his left arm into a sling, and, though emaciated through long weeks of illness, he led his twenty-five hundred men into the Indians' country.

The provisions did not follow them as had been arranged. Jackson wrote home earnestly for money and food. He said, "There is an enemy whom I dread much more than I do the hostile Creeks, and whose power, I am fearful, I shall first be made to feel – I mean the meagre monster, Famine." And yet he encouraged his men with these brave words: "Shall an enemy wholly unacquainted with military evolution, and who rely more for victory on their grim visages and hideous yells than upon their bravery or their weapons – shall such an enemy ever drive before them the well trained youths of our country, whose bosoms pant for glory and a desire to avenge the wrongs they have received? Your general will not live to behold such a spectacle; rather would he rush into the thickest of the enemy, and submit himself to their scalping-knives… With his soldiers he will face all dangers, and with them participate in the glory of conquest."

The first battle with the Creeks was fought under General John Coffee at Talluschatches, thirteen miles from Jackson's camp, the friendly Creeks leading the way, wearing white feathers and white deer's-tails to distinguish them from the hostile tribes. The whites, maddened by the memory of Fort Mims, fought like tigers; the Indians, sullen and revengeful at the prospect of losing their homes and their hunting-grounds, neither asked nor gave quarter, and fought heroically. Nearly the whole town perished.

On the battle-field was found a dead mother with her arms clasped about a living child. The babe was brought into camp, and Jackson asked some of the Indian women to care for it. "No!" said they, "all his relations are dead; kill him too." The baby was cared for at General Jackson's expense till the campaign was over, and then carried to the Hermitage, where he grew to young manhood as a petted son. The general and his wife gave him the name of Lincoyer. In his seventeenth year he died of consumption, sincerely mourned by his devoted friends.

Following the battle of Talluschatches, General Jackson moved against Talladega, and, after a bloody conflict, rescued one hundred and fifty friendly Creeks. Returning to camp, he found starvation staring him in the face. The men were becoming desperate; yet he kept his cheerfulness, dividing with them the last crust. One morning a gaunt, hungry-looking soldier approached General Jackson as he was sitting under a tree, eating, and asked for some food, saying that he was nearly starving.

"It has been a rule with me," said the general, "never to turn away a hungry man, when it is in my power to relieve him, and I will most cheerfully divide with you what I have." Putting his hand in his pocket, he drew forth a few acorns. "This is the best and only fare I have," he said, and the soldier was comforted.

Many of the men had enlisted for three months only, and were impatient to return home. Finally, the militia determined to return with or without the general's consent. Jackson heard of their intention, and at once ordered the volunteers to detain them, peaceably if they could, forcibly if they must. Then the volunteers, in turn, attempted to go back, but were met by Jackson's firm resolve to shoot the first man who took a step toward home.

"I cannot," he said, "must not believe that the 'Volunteers of Tennessee,' a name ever dear to fame, will disgrace themselves, and a country which they have honored, by abandoning her standard, as mutineers and deserters; but should I be disappointed, and compelled to resign this pleasing hope, one thing I will not resign – my duty. Mutiny and sedition, so long as I possess the power of quelling them, shall be put down; and even when left destitute of this, I will still be found in the last extremity endeavoring to discharge the duty I owe my country and myself." That one word, "duty," was the key-note of Jackson's life. It was his religion – it was his philosophy.

With all Jackson's kindness to his men, they knew that he could be severe. John Woods, a boy not eighteen, the support of aged parents, was shot for refusing to obey a superior officer. That he could have been spared seems probable, but Jackson taught hard lessons to his undisciplined troops, and sometimes in a harsh manner.

In seven months the Creeks had been utterly routed; half their warriors were dead, and the rest were broken in spirit. Weathersford, their most heroic chief, the leader at the Fort Mims massacre, sought General Jackson at his camp.

"How dare you," said Jackson, "ride up to my tent, after having murdered the women and children at Fort Mims?"

"General Jackson, I am not afraid of you," was the reply. "I fear no man, for I am a Creek warrior. I have nothing to request in behalf of myself. You can kill me, if you desire. But I come to beg you to send for the women and children of the war party, who are now starving in the woods. Their fields and cribs have been destroyed by your people, who have driven them to the woods without an ear of corn. I hope that you will send out parties, who will conduct them safely here, in order that they may be fed. I exerted myself in vain to prevent the massacre of the women and children at Fort Mims. I am now done fighting. The Red Sticks are nearly all killed. If I could fight you any longer, I would most heartily do so. Send for the women and children. They never did you any harm. But kill me, if the white people want it done."

"Kill him! kill him!" shouted several voices.

"Silence!" exclaimed Jackson. "Any man who would kill as brave a man as this would rob the dead!"

Weathersford's request was granted, and the women and children of the war party were provided for. The chief died many years afterward, a planter in Alabama, respected by the Americans for his bravery and his honor.

The Creek war over, Jackson went back to Tennessee, a noted, successful soldier. He had not only conquered the Creeks, but he had won for himself the position of major-general in the United States army, having in charge the department of the South. He was now forty-seven, and had indeed reached a high position. Mississippi voted him a sword, and other States sent testimonials of appreciation. All this time he was a constant sufferer in body, and only kept himself from his bed by his indomitable will. The Hermitage could not long keep the ardent, tireless general from the front. He soon established his headquarters at Mobile, and prepared to defend a thousand miles of coast from the British. He had but a small army at his command, and was far from Washington, with scarcely any means of communication. Indeed, the English had captured that city already, and burned most of its public buildings.

The English had attacked Mobile Point, been defeated, and retired to Pensacola, Florida. Spain owned Florida, and was supposed to be neutral, but she was in reality friendly and helpful to England, and allowed her to use the State as a base of operations. Jackson wrote to Washington asking leave to attack Pensacola. The answer did not come back till the war of 1812 was over and Jackson had won renown for himself and his country. He did not wait for an answer, however, but stormed Pensacola, captured it, and then hastened to New Orleans, where he expected the next attack would be made. He used to say to young men, "Always take all the time to reflect that circumstances will permit; but when the time for action has come, stop thinking." And at Pensacola he stopped thinking, and acted. Nothing was ready for his coming, but all eyes turned to the conquerer of the Creeks as the savior of New Orleans. Women gathered around him and looked trustingly toward the erect, self-centred, bronzed soldier. Men flocked willingly to his service, glad to do his bidding. He summoned the engineers of the city and ordered every bayou to be obstructed by earth and sunken logs. The city was put under martial law. No person was permitted to leave the place without a written permit signed by the general or one of his staff. The street lamps were extinguished at nine o'clock, after which hour any person without the necessary permit or not having the countersign was apprehended as a spy and held for examination. All able-bodied men, black and white, were compelled to serve as soldiers or sailors.

He had with him about two thousand troops, and four thousand more within ten or fifteen days' march. Against these, for the most part undisciplined troops, a British force of twenty thousand men was coming, with a fleet of fifty ships, carrying a thousand guns. Much of this army had served under the great Wellington in France; its present leader, General Packenham, was Wellington's brother-in-law. He was only thirty-eight, brave, and the idol of his men. Some of the ships had been with Nelson in the battle of the Nile. The flower of England's army and navy had been sent to conquer the independent and self-reliant Americans.

So certain were the British of conquest that several families were with the fleet, husbands and brothers having been appointed already to civil offices. Another person was also confident of victory – the man who had seen but fourteen months of service, but who from boyhood had never known what it was to be defeated. He inspired others with the same confidence. Says Latour, in his history of the war in West Florida and Louisiana, "The energy manifested by General Jackson spread, as it were, by contagion, and communicated itself to the whole army. There was nothing which those who composed it did not feel themselves capable of performing, if he ordered it to be done. It was enough that he expressed a wish or threw out the slightest intimation, and immediately a crowd of volunteers offered themselves to carry his views into execution."

The English fleet entered Lake Borgne, sixty miles north-east from New Orleans, on December 10, 1814. Twelve days later they had reached the Mississippi River, nine miles below the city. The next day, when Jackson was informed of their approach, he said, bringing his clenched fist down upon the table, "By the Eternal, they shall not sleep on our soil!"

At once, with, as Parton says, that "calm impetuosity and that composed intensity which belonged to him," he sent word to the various regiments to meet him at three o'clock at a specified place. And then he lay down and slept for a short time, his only rest during the next three days and three nights. Few men except General Jackson, with his iron will, could have slept at such a time. A messenger came, sent by some ladies, asking what they should do if the city were attacked.

"Say to them not to be uneasy. No British soldier shall enter the city as an enemy, unless over my dead body," and he kept his word.

At three o'clock the men were hastening on to meet the "red-coats." Twilight came early, and the moon rose dimly over the battle-field. The signal of attack was to be a shot fired from the ship Carolina. At half-past seven, the first gun was heard, then seven others, and the word was given – Forward.

And forward they went, with quick steps and eager hearts. A tremendous fire opened upon our artillery-men. The horses attached to the cannon became unmanageable, and one of the pieces was turned over into the ditch. Jackson dashed into the midst of the fray, exclaiming, "Save the guns, my boys, at every sacrifice," and the guns were saved. Men fought hand to hand in the smoke and the darkness; the British using their bayonets, and the Americans their long hunting-knives. Prisoners were taken and retaken. Till ten o'clock the battle raged; when our men fell back upon the Roderiguez canal, to wait till the morning sun should show where to begin the deadly work. When the morning came, the battle-field presented a ghastly appearance. Says a British officer concerning the American dead, "Their hair, eyebrows, and lashes were thickly covered with hoar-frost, or rime, their bloodless cheeks vying with its whiteness. Few were dressed in military uniforms, and most of them bore the appearance of farmers or husbandmen. Peace to their ashes! they had nobly died in defending their country."

The Roderiguez canal was now strongly fortified. Spades, crowbars, and wheelbarrows had been sent from the city. The canal was deepened and the earth thrown up on the side. Fences were torn away, and rails driven down to keep the sand from falling back into the canal. The line of defence, a mile long, was four or five feet high in some places. Cotton bales from a neighboring ship were used.

"Here," said Jackson, "we will plant our stakes, and not abandon them until we drive these 'red-coat' rascals into the river or the swamp."

While these busy preparations were going on, food was brought to General Jackson, which he ate in the saddle. Christmas day came. The English Admiral Cochrane had said, "I shall eat my Christmas dinner in New Orleans." General Jackson heard of it, and remarked, "Perhaps so; but I shall have the honor of presiding at that dinner."

The Americans were ready, but the British did not make the expected attack. Every man was at his post. When an officer, the son of one of Jackson's best friends, said to him, "May I go to town to-day?" the reply was, "Of course, Captain Livingston, you may go; but ought you to go?" The young man blushed, bowed, and returned to duty.

Meantime, the British were not idle. They had determined to silence the guns of the American ships, and, with great toil, had brought up into the swampy ground nine field-pieces, two howitzers, one mortar, a furnace for heating balls, and the necessary ammunition. At dawn on the morning of December 27 the firing began. The Carolina, after a terrific bombardment, blew up. The Louisiana fought her way out into a place of safety.

The days went by slowly under the dreadful suspense. On New Year's day, General Packenham cannonaded the Americans and was driven back. On January 8, the final battle began. Early in the morning, the British moved against the Americans. Jackson walked along the lines, cheering the men, "Stand to your guns. Don't waste your ammunition. See that every shot tells. Give it to them, boys! Let us finish the business to-day."

And every shot did tell. The sharpshooters aimed at the officers, and the batteries mowed down the British regulars. Seeing them falter, Packenham rushed among the men, shouting, "For shame! recollect that you are British soldiers!" Taking off his hat, he spurred his horse to the head of the wavering column. A ball splintered his right arm. Then the Highlanders came to the support of their comrades.

"Hurrah! brave Highlanders!" he said, as a mass of grape-shot tore open his thigh and killed his horse. Another shot struck him, and he was borne under a live-oak to die. The great tree is still standing.

At nine o'clock in the morning the battle was virtually over. The English lost seven hundred killed, fourteen hundred wounded, and five hundred taken prisoners; while the Americans lost but eight killed and thirteen wounded. "The field was so thickly strewn with the dead that, from the American ditch, you could have walked a quarter of a mile to the front on the bodies of the killed and disabled… The course of the column could be distinctly traced in the broad red line of the victims of the terrible batteries and unerring guns of the Americans. They fell in their tracks; in some places, whole platoons lay together, as if killed by the same discharge."

The news of this great victory at New Orleans astonished the North, and made Jackson the hero of his time. The whole country was proud of a man who could win such a battle, losing the lives of so few of his men. Nearly every State passed resolutions in his praise. The Senate and House of Representatives ordered a gold medal to be struck in his honor. Philadelphia enjoyed a general illumination; one of the transparencies representing the general on horseback in pursuit of the enemy, with the words, "This day shall ne'er go by, from this day to the ending of the world, but He in it shall be remembered." Henry Clay said, "Now I can go to England without mortification."

When Jackson and his army returned to New Orleans, men, women, and children came out to meet them. Young ladies strewed flowers along the way; children crowned the general with laurel, and an impressive service was held in his honor in the Cathedral. He replied, "For myself, to have been instrumental in the deliverance of such a country is the greatest blessing that Heaven could confer. That it has been effected with so little loss – that so few tears should cloud the smiles of our triumph, and not a cypress leaf be interwoven in the wreath which you present, is a source of the most exquisite enjoyment."

Mrs. Jackson and little Andrew, now seven years old, came down from the Hermitage, and his cup of joy was indeed full. To have Rachel's commendation was more than to have that of all of the world besides. The ladies of New Orleans gave to her a valuable set of topaz jewelry, and to the general a diamond pin. A month later, they were at home once more. He had shown the good judgment, the calm bravery, the comprehensive outlook, the quick decision, the tender compassion of the great soldier. Perhaps the busy public life was over – who could tell?

Four months later, General Jackson went to Washington, at the request of the Secretary of War, to arrange about the stations of the army in the South. The journey thither was one constant ovation. At a great banquet tendered him at Lynchburg, Virginia, Thomas Jefferson, then seventy-two, gave this toast: "Honor and gratitude to those who have filled the measure of their country's honor." At Washington also he received distinguished attention.

In 1817, the Seminole Indians of Georgia and Alabama had become hostile. General Jackson was the man to conquer them. He immediately marched into their country with eighteen hundred whites and fifteen hundred friendly Indians, and in five months subjugated them.

Florida was purchased in 1819, and two years later Jackson was appointed its governor, with a salary of five thousand dollars. Mrs. Jackson joined him there, but neither was happy, and he soon resigned, and returned with her to the Hermitage. He had built for her a new house, a two-story brick, surrounded by a double piazza. He was at this time frail in health, and did not expect ever to live in the home, but wished it to be made beautiful for her. He hoped now to live a quiet life, enjoying his garden and his farm; but the nation had other plans for him.

In 1823, Jackson was elected to the United States Senate, twenty-six years after his first appearance in that body. He was now prominently mentioned as a candidate for the Presidency. Strange contrast indeed to the days when, bare-footed and orphaned, he struggled for the rudiments of an education.

While he had many ardent friends, he had strong opponents. Daniel Webster said, "If General Jackson is elected, the government of our country will be overthrown; the judiciary will be destroyed;" yet he added, "His manners are more presidential than those of any of the candidates. He is grave, mild, and reserved. My wife is for him decidedly." Jefferson said, "I feel very much alarmed at the prospect of seeing General Jackson President. He is one of the most unfit men I know of for the place. He has had very little respect for laws or constitution, and is, in fact, an able military chief. His passions are terrible… He has been much tried since I knew him, but he is a dangerous man." But the people knew he had conquered the Indians and the British, and they believed in him.

The candidates for the Presidency in 1824 were Jackson, John Quincy Adams, William H. Crawford, and Henry Clay. While Jackson received the largest popular vote, the House of Representatives, balloting by States, elected John Quincy Adams. It was believed that Clay used his influence for Adams against Jackson, and this caused the election of Adams, a scholarly man, the son of John Adams, and long our representative abroad.

Four years later, in 1828, the people made their voices heard at the ballot-box, and Jackson was elected by a large majority. The contest had been exceedingly personal and annoying. The old stories about his marriage were again dragged through the press. Mrs. Jackson, a victim of heart-disease, was unduly troubled, and became broken in health. When he was elected, she said, "Well, for Mr. Jackson's sake, I am glad; for my own part, I never wished it."

Jackson had built for her a small brick church in the Hermitage grounds, and here, where the neighbors and servants gathered, she found her deepest happiness, and sighed for no greater sphere of usefulness. When she urged the general to join her church, he said, "My dear, if I were to do that now, it would be said, all over the country, that I had done it for the sake of political effect. My enemies would all say so. I cannot do it now, but I promise you that, when once more I am clear of politics, I will join the church."

The people of Nashville were of course proud that one from their city had been chosen to so high a position, and tendered him a banquet on December 23, the anniversary of the first battle at New Orleans. A few days before this, Mrs. Jackson was taken ill, but she urged her husband to make himself ready for the banquet. While he had watched by her bedside constantly, on the evening of December 22, she was so much better that he consented to lie down on a sofa in an adjoining room. He had not been there five minutes before a cry was heard from Mrs. Jackson. He hastened to her, but she never breathed again.

He could not believe that she was dead. When they brought a table to lay her body upon it, he said tenderly, in a choking voice, "Spread four blankets upon it. If she does come to, she will lie so hard upon the table."

All night long he sat beside the form of his beloved Rachel, often feeling of her heart and pulse. In the morning he was wholly inconsolable, and, when he found that she was really dead, the body could scarcely be forced from his arms.