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State Feedback Control and Kalman Filtering
with MATLAB/Simulink Tutorials
State Feedback Control and Kalman Filtering
with MATLAB/Simulink Tutorials

Liuping Wang and Robin Ping Guan

This edition first published 2023
© 2023 John Wiley & Sons Ltd

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system,
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The right of Liuping Wang and Robin Ping Guan to be identified as the authors of this work has
been asserted in accordance with law.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is Applied for:

Hardback ISBN: 9781119694632

Cover Design: Wiley

Cover Image: © fotoslaz/Shutterstock.com

Set in 9.5/12.5pt STIXTwoText by Straive, Chennai, India

To

Jianshe
 vii

Contents

Author Biography xiii

Preface xv
Acknowledgments xxi
List of Symbols and Acronyms xxiii
About the Companion Website xxv

Part I Continuous-time State Feedback Control 1

1 State Feedback Controller and Observer Design 3

1.1 Introduction 3
1.2 Motivation for Going Beyond PID Control 4
1.3 Basics in State Feedback Control 12
1.3.1 State Feedback Control 12
1.3.2 Controllability 18
1.3.3 Food for Thought 21
1.4 Pole-assignment Controller 21
1.4.1 The Design Method 21
1.4.2 Similarity Transformation for Controller Design 24
1.4.3 MATLAB Tutorial on Pole-assignment Controller 27
1.4.4 Food for Thought 29
1.5 Linear Quadratic Regulator (LQR) Design 29
1.5.1 Motivational Example 29
1.5.2 Linear Quadratic Regulator Design 32
1.5.3 Selection of Q and R Matrices 34
1.5.4 LQR with Prescribed Degree of Stability 39
1.5.5 Food for Thought 46
1.6 Observer Design 47
1.6.1 Motivational Example for Observer 47
viii Contents

1.6.2 Observer Design 50

1.6.3 Observability 53
1.6.4 Duality between Controller and Observer 55
1.6.5 Observer Implementation 56
1.6.6 Food for Thought 57
1.7 State Estimate Feedback Control System 58
1.7.1 State Estimate Feedback Control 58
1.7.2 Separation Principle 59
1.7.3 Food for Thought 60
1.8 Summary 61
1.9 Further Reading 62
Problems 63

2 Practical Multivariable Controllers in Continuous-time 67

2.1 Introduction 67
2.2 Practical Controller I: Integral Action via Controller Design 68
2.2.1 The Original Control Law 68
2.2.2 Integrator Windup Scenarios 69
2.2.3 Proposed Practical Multivariable Controller 71
2.2.4 Anti-windup Implementation 74
2.2.5 MATLAB Tutorial on Design and Implementation 77
2.2.6 Application to Drum Boiler Control 85
2.2.7 Food for Thought 91
2.3 Practical Controller II: Integral Action via Observer Design 92
2.3.1 Integral Control via Disturbance Estimation 92
2.3.2 Anti-windup Mechanism 95
2.3.3 MATLAB Tutorial on Design and Implementation 96
2.3.4 Application to Sugar Mill Control 102
2.3.5 Design for Systems with Known States 103
2.3.6 Food for Thought 106
2.4 Drive Train Control of a Wind Turbine 107
2.4.1 Modelling of Wind Turbine’s Drive Train 107
2.4.2 Configuration of The Control System 110
2.4.3 Design Method I 111
2.4.4 Design Method II 115
2.4.5 MATLAB Tutorial on Design Method II 116
2.4.6 Food for Thought 121
2.5 Summary 121
2.6 Further Reading 122
Problems 122
 Contents ix

Part II Discrete-time State Feedback Control 127

3 Introduction to Discrete-time Systems 129

3.1 Introduction 129
3.2 Discretization of Continuous-time Models 130
3.2.1 Sampling of a Continuous-time Model 130
3.2.2 Stability of Discrete-time System 133
3.2.3 Examples of Discrete-time Models from Sampling 134
3.2.4 Food for Thoughts 141
3.3 Input and Output Discrete-time Models 142
3.3.1 Input and Output Models 142
3.3.2 Finite Impulse Response and Step Response Models 144
3.3.3 Non-minimal State Space Realization 148
3.3.4 Food for Thought 148
3.4 z-Transforms 149
3.4.1 z-Transforms for Commonly Used Signals 149
3.4.2 z-Transfer Functions 152
3.4.3 Food for Thought 154
3.5 Summary 155
3.6 Further Reading 156
Problems 156

4 Discrete-time State Feedback Control 161

4.1 Introduction 161
4.2 Discrete-time State Feedback Control 161
4.2.1 Basic Ideas 161
4.2.2 Controllability in Discrete-time 165
4.2.3 Food for Thought 167
4.3 Discrete-time Observer Design 167
4.3.1 Basic Ideas about Discrete-time Observer 167
4.3.2 Observability in Discrete-time 171
4.3.3 Food for Thought 173
4.4 Discrete-time Linear Quadratic Regulator (DLQR) 173
4.4.1 Objective Function for DLQR 173
4.4.2 Optimal Solution 174
4.4.3 Observer Design using DLQR 176
4.4.4 Food for Thought 176
4.5 Discrete-time LQR with Prescribed Degree of Stability 177
4.5.1 Basic Ideas about a Prescribed Degree of Stability 177
4.5.2 Case Studies 180
x Contents

4.5.3 Food for Thought 186

4.6 Summary 186
4.7 Further Reading 187
Problems 188

5 Disturbance Rejection and Reference Tracking via Observer

Design 195
5.1 Introduction 195
5.2 Disturbance Models 195
5.2.1 Commonly Encountered Disturbance Signals 196
5.2.2 State Space Model with Input Disturbance 199
5.2.3 Food for Thought 200
5.3 Compensation of Input and Output Disturbances in
Estimation 200
5.3.1 Motivational Example 200
5.3.2 Input Disturbance Observer Design 202
5.3.3 MATLAB Tutorial for Augmented State Space Model 206
5.3.4 The Observer Error System 207
5.3.5 Output Disturbance Observer Design 209
5.3.6 Food for Thought 213
5.4 Disturbance-Observer-based State Feedback Control 214
5.4.1 The Control Law 214
5.4.2 MATLAB Tutorial for Control Implementation 217
5.4.3 Food for Thought 222
5.5 Analysis of Disturbance-Observer-based Control System 223
5.5.1 Controller Transfer Function 223
5.5.2 Disturbance Rejection 225
5.5.3 Reference Tracking 227
5.5.4 A Case Study 228
5.5.5 Food for Thought 232
5.6 Anti-windup Implementation of the Control Law 233
5.6.1 Algorithm for Anti-windup Implementation 233
5.6.2 Heating Furnace Control 236
5.6.3 Example for Bandlimited Disturbance 239
5.6.4 Food for Thought 241
5.7 Summary 242
5.8 Further Reading 243
Problems 243
 Contents xi

6 Disturbance Rejection and Reference Tracking via Control

Design 253
6.1 Introduction 253
6.2 Embedding Disturbance Model into Controller Design 254
6.2.1 Formulation of Augmented State Space Model 254
6.2.2 MATLAB Tutorial 256
6.2.3 Controllability and Observability 258
6.2.4 Food for Thought 259
6.3 Controller and Observer Design 260
6.3.1 Controller Design and Control Signal Calculation 260
6.3.2 Adding Reference Signal 262
6.3.3 Observer Design and Implementation 262
6.3.4 MATLAB Tutorial for Control Implementation 264
6.3.5 Food for Thought 268
6.4 Practical Issues 269
6.4.1 Reducing Overshoot in Reference Tracking 269
6.4.2 Anti-windup Implementation 272
6.4.3 Control System using NMSS Realization 276
6.4.4 Food for Thought 282
6.5 Repetitive Control 283
6.5.1 Basic Ideas about Repetitive Control 283
6.5.2 Determining the Disturbance Model D(z) 285
6.5.3 Robotic Arm Control 290
6.5.4 Food for Thought 295
6.6 Summary 295
6.7 Further Reading 296
Problems 296

Part III Kalman Filtering 309

7 The Kalman Filter 311

7.1 Introduction 311
7.2 The Kalman Filter Algorithm 312
7.2.1 State Space Models in the Kalman Filter 312
7.2.2 An Intuitive Computational Procedure 313
7.2.3 Optimization of Kalman Filter Gain 315
7.2.4 Kalman Filter Examples with MATLAB Tutorials 317
xii Contents

7.2.5 Compensation of Sensor Bias and Load Disturbance 325

7.2.6 Food for Thought 330
7.3 The Kalman Filter in Multi-rate Sampling Environment 331
7.3.1 KF Algorithm for Missing Data Scenarios 331
7.3.2 Case Studies with MATLAB Tutorial 333
7.3.3 Food for Thought 344
7.4 The Extended Kalman Filter (EKF) 344
7.4.1 Linearization in Extended Kalman Filter 344
7.4.2 The Extended Kalman Filter Algorithm 348
7.4.3 Case Studies with MATLAB Tutorial 351
7.4.4 Food for Thought 359
7.5 The Kalman Filter with Fading Memory 359
7.5.1 The Algorithm for KF with Fading Memory 360
7.5.2 Food for Thought 363
7.6 Relationship between Kalman Filter and Observer 364
7.6.1 One-step Kalman Filter Algorithm 364
7.6.2 Kalman Filter and Observer 365
7.6.3 Food for Thought 370
7.7 Summary 371
7.8 Further Reading 372
Problems 372

8 Addressing Computational Issues in KF 377

8.1 Introduction 377
8.2 The Sequential Kalman Filter 377
8.2.1 Basic Ideas about Sequential Kalman Filter 377
8.2.2 Non-diagonal R 382
8.2.3 MATLAB Tutorial for Sequential Kalman Filter 383
8.2.4 Food for Thought 387
8.3 The Kalman Filter using UDU T Factorization 388
8.3.1 Gram-Schmidt Orthogonalization Procedure 388
8.3.2 Basic Ideas 390
8.3.3 Sequential Kalman Filter with UDU T Decomposition 393
8.3.4 MATLAB Tutorial 395
8.3.5 Food for Thought 398
8.4 Summary 398
8.5 Further Reading 399
Problems 399

Bibliography 403
Index 413
 xiii

Author Biography

Liuping Wang, PhD, is a Professor of Control Engineering at RMIT University,

Australia. She obtained her PhD from the Department of Control Engineering at
the University of Sheffield, UK. Professor Wang gained substantial process control
experience by working in the Chemical Engineering Department at the University
of Toronto, Canada, and the Center for Integrated Dynamics at the University of
Newcastle, Australia. She is the author of five books in systems and control.

Robin Ping Guan, PhD, obtained his Masters degree in Electrical Engineering
from the University of Melbourne in 2014 and his PhD degree from RMIT
University, Australia in 2019. He is a research fellow in RMIT University and is
the co-author of the book on state feedback control and Kalman filter.
Another Random Scribd Document
with Unrelated Content
 Then he fled across the river on the ice, a volley of bullets
followed him. He falls. The war whoop is sounded.
Tom is dead—Tom is dead!
But Tom is neither dead nor wounded. He springs to his feet and
escapes to the Jersey Shore. A ball had struck the heel of his shoe
and tripped him.
In the meantime his father had been killed and scalped. Tom
sought the opportunity and recovered the scalped body of his father
and gave it christian burial. His love for the Indians and their society
now forsook him, and the uppermost thought in his mind was
revenge. He covered the grave with green sod, and taking his knife
in his right hand, and his rifle in his left, looking toward heaven,
exclaimed:

“By the point of the knife in my right;

and the deadly bullet in my left;
By heaven and all there is in it,
by earth and all there is on it;
By the love I bore my father,
here on his grave I swear eternal vengeance
against the whole Indian race.
I swear to kill all, to spare none;
The old man with silver hair,
The lisping babe without teeth,
the mother quick with child, and
the maid in the bloom of youth shall die.
A voice from my father’s grave cries
Revenge! Eternal revenge!”

and he threw himself across his father’s grave.

How well Tom kept his promise and how many Indians his rifle
sent to the Spirit world will appear in the next chapter.
CHAPTER XXIII.
 Tom kept his vow and had his revenge.

The threat of Tom Quick mentioned in the preceding chapter was

one that was not made in vain. It was made while he was standing
in the presence of his dead father. On finding the body, he turned it
over and exclaimed, “dead and scalped.” Tradition says that from
that moment he was a changed man. His love for the society of the
Indians forsook him, and his only thought was revenge; and turning
to his mother and other friends said, “You will see that father is
properly buried, I have other work to do. From this time my work
will be to avenge my father’s death.” Then followed the vow
recorded in the former chapter—“To kill all and spare none.” And left
his friends to perform the last office to the dead, and went forth on
his mission of revenge. For two years after this he was seldom seen
in the settlements, and then only long enough to procure powder
and shot, which was his chief stock in trade. Tom seldom talked and
then only to hunters or those he could rely on to keep his secrets;
except to himself and to his gun, which was of the largest size,
being seven feet four inches long and weighed 21 pounds, and
carried a ball one inch in diameter. It was an old saying that when
one of Tom’s bullets went through an Indian, that it made two
windows in him and a hall between them. I have said that Tom
seldom talked except to himself and he did the most of this when he
was alone, or at least when he thought he was alone. But he was
heard on several occasions, and tradition has handed down to us
several of his soliloquies. The following is a fair sample of his home
talk. He had been out on a hunt and had returned to his cabin in the
edge of evening with a saddle of venison. He hung the venison up
on the corner of the house and looked toward the east where he
saw a full moon, when he soliloquized as follows:
“This is rather a nice evening. Let me see, it is a full moon; a good
coon night. What say you long Tom, (raising his gun) how would you
like to drop one of the red coons before morning. I would; that
would make just 87 red devils that I have sent to the Spirit land
since Muswink murdered my father. Tell me, O ye stars, (looking up)
for what was he murdered. For being a friend to the Indian, for
furnishing them with shelter and food, for being a good man, a kind
neighbor, a God-fearing and God-loving man. Father, my father, you
sleep on the banks of the Delaware; no only your body lies there,
your spirit is here, there, everywhere it is now hovering round and
about me. It is continually whispering in my ear revenge, revenge. It
is God’s will, father that your death should be avenged. It is God’s
will that your son Tom Quick should be the avenger. For this I have
left home and the comforts of civilized life and burrowed in the
ground like a rabbit. For this I left the mother that gave me birth,
and taught me to say: ‘Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord
my soul to keep; If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my
soul to take.’ That kind good and generous mother now kneels on
the old family hearth and mourns the loss of the living as though
dead. Maggie too; God bless her. She is here; I feel her continually
knocking at my heart, saying ‘Uncle Tom, come home.’ Pray on dear
girl, and when my mission is ended, may father, son, mother and
child meet in that happy hunting ground where there will be no
father’s blood to avenge.”
Here Tom was interrupted in his soliloquy by an unusual noise in
his pig pen. He was always on the alert, knowing that the Indians
intended to shed his blood and take his scalp. Therefore he took
notice of every sound. It was uncommon for the pig to squeal. This
squeal sounded unnatural, and Tom concluded that the squealing
emanated from the throat of an Indian. “Some new deviltry is going
on; that squeal sounds more like a two legged devil than a four
legged hog. Come Tom, (taking his gun) let us look around and see
if one of those pesky red skins is trying to steal our pork, (Pig
squeals.) That is pretty well done, yet the genuine hog grammar is
left out. You forget to dot your I’s and cross your T’s. (Squeals
again.) That is a little better, and might deceive a boy, but it won’t
me. Tom is too old for that. You had better stop squealing and go to
praying for the devil will have a new comer before morning, or my
name is not Tom Quick. Come Tom (taking up his gun) let us walk
around and see how his porkship looks in the rear.” Tom passes
through his cabin and appears to the left of the pig pen. He was not
mistaken in his calculation, for there he saw a powerful Indian
holding the hog with the left hand, while he held the gun in his right,
ready to shoot Tom when he came to see what was the matter with
the pig. Tom aimed and fired. The Indian gave one whoop, leaped in
the air, and fell on the outside of the pen dead. A ball had pierced
his head. Tom placed his foot on the Indian’s breast.
Well done, Tom, patting his gun. Well done. Let me see. That
makes the record just eighty-seven red devils that I have sent to the
Spirit World since Muswink murdered my father. Let me see.
According to old Daball, it will take just thirteen more to make an
even hundred. Tom, let us pray.
He kneels, holding the gun before him.
Good Lord, or good devil—either one or both, I do hereby pray
that I may be permitted to remain in this mortal coil until I have sent
thirteen more Indians to the Spirit Land. Then I shall be ready and
willing to depart to the Hunter’s Paradise. Amen.
Tom gets up off his knees and turns the Indian over with his foot.
Well, Mr. Squealer, why don’t you squeal now? I guess that Long
Tom has taken all the squeal out of you. I suppose that when the
bullet went in, the squeal went out. But I must get rid of you. You
will smell bad here and will invite the bears and wolves to view your
miserable carcass. Come, take your last leap down the rocks.
Then Tom threw his carcass down the rocks and went on his way
rejoicing.
The stories of Tom’s adventures are legion, and for nearly one
hundred years have been told. The author heard them related nearly
seventy years ago. His father lived in the days of Tom Quick and was
conversant with his history.
 Tom made it his habit to watch the Indians and shoot them as
they went up and down the Delaware in their canoes and frequently
waylaid them as they traveled through the country on their trails or
deerpaths.
With these paths he was well acquainted and would spend days
and months lurking in the vicinity of their haunts for the purpose of
getting a shot at one or more of them. Every few days an Indian
was missed. He was last seen in the company of Tom, but never
after.
The Indians knew that Tom had sworn that he would kill them
whenever opportunity offered. Consequently, when an Indian was
missing it was laid to Tom.
Furthermore, Tom had a knack of finding a great many guns in his
travels through the woods. It was usually thought that he found the
Indian that owned the gun before he found the gun.
For this reason the Indians were not only anxious, but determined
to kill him. Many a ball had been fired at him, but they all went wide
of the mark. The Indians believed that the white man’s God
protected him, that he had a charmed life, and could not be hit by a
bullet fired by an Indian. They therefore resolved to take him alive,
and to that end six Braves were appointed to watch and capture
him.
It so happened that about this time Tom was splitting rails for a
Mr. Westbrook who then lived in the Mamakating Valley. Tom wished
to get the rails split in the forenoon as he had been informed that
there was to be total eclipse of the sun about one o’clock in the
afternoon, and that it would then be so dark that he could not see to
work. The log he was trying to split was winding and cross grained,
and the blows of the heavy beetle on the wedges failed to open the
log. Tom was nearly out of breath and quite out of patience, and
commenced talking to himself.
“Here I am at Westbrookville splitting rails. I should be at Shohola
splitting heads and scattering Indian brains. That would be more in
keeping with my conscience, than to stand here and pound these
wedges. Confound the log, it is as cross grained as a peperage, and
sticks to the bark as close as an Indian to his scalping knife. Curse
the red Devils, I long to see the last one killed and scalped. If there
was more Tom Quick’s there would be less Indians. Well, they are
growing less every day. Yesterday I sent five more to the Spirit land.
Yesterday I colored Butler’s Falls with blood. Yesterday the hawks at
Hawk’s Nest mountain wafted the spirits of five more to the Indians’
eternal hunting ground. There were big spirits and little spirits. It
was easy to pop over the old man and his Squaw, but when it came
to knocking out the brains of the little babe, that kinder went against
the grain. Confound the little redskin, he looked me right in the eye
and laughed—as much as to say, ‘Uncle Tom don’t.’ I most wish that
I had spared the boy to see if anything could be made out of a
redskin. But pshaw! Papooses become Indians as surely as nits
become lice. But I must go to work, or the sun will darken before I
get these rails split. To-day comes the great eclipse of the sun and
soon that orb from which we receive light and heat will be obscured,
and the earth will be wrapped in the mantle of night. I see that it is
approaching and darkness will soon prevail.”
This soliloquy nearly cost Tom his life. Whilst he was talking six
dusky Indians were noiselessly crawling toward him. So stealthily
had been their approach that Tom was not aware of their presence
until he was grasped by two stalwart Indians. He sprang for his rifle,
dragging the Indians with him, but the others came and Tom was
overpowered. He saw his peril and knew that it was only by strategy
that he could escape. The fact of the eclipse flashed across his mind
and he resolved at once to excite the superstition of the Indians by
appealing to the white man’s God.
Hawkeye was the first to break the silence. “Pale face, your time
has come. The Avenger of the Delaware Valley must die. At sun
down you can fight faggot and fire. Now call on the white man’s God
and see if he will save you.”
 Tom replied: “The white man’s God is the Indian’s great spirit; that
spirit is here and talks with me.”
Hawkeye looked at Tom with astonishment. “What does the white
man’s God say?”
Tom replied: “He says that Indian tells the truth—that my time has
come—that I must die—that I must not fight the Indians anymore,
but must go with you as soon as my work is done.”
Hawkeye looked pleased and said: “What work?”
“Finish splitting this log,” replied Tom.
The Indians were so pleased to capture Tom without a fight that
they were thrown off their guard and laid down their arms.
What more does the white man’s God say, inquired Hawkeye?
He says, replied Tom, that you must help me split this log and that
he will darken the sun until you light the fire about me. See, the sun
darkens, the work of the Great Spirit has begun, and it will soon be
night at noon-day.
The sun was partially eclipsed and the Indians gazed with
astonishment. Hawkeye seemed dumbfounded and stammered out:
White man’s God great and powerful. How did he say Indian help?
Tom replied: Get three on a side and pull when I strike the wedge.
The Indians obeyed and arranged themselves three on each side of
the log with their fingers in the crack of the log.
We ready, strike the wedge, said Hawkeye.
Tom struck; but instead of striking the wedge in, he struck it out,
and the Indians were fast in the log as much so as if they had been
screwed in a vice.
Tom was jubilant. He now had the six Indians in his power and
could kill them at his leisure. He gave one of his peculiar laughs and
said: Ha! Ha! Mr. Indians, the white man’s God says more. He says
you Indians must die. Look at the waning sun. When that becomes
dark, you Indians will be in the Spirit world. It grows darker, darker.
Your time has come—now you die.
The eclipse was now nearly total, and Tom proceeded to the
execution of his purpose; by knocking their brains out with the
beetle. And then left for the house, leaving the Indians still fast in
the log to become food for bears and wolves.
CHAPTER XXIV.
 Killing a Buck with Seven Skins.

Tom had a great many cabins or caves between the Water Gap
and Shohola, and was never at a loss for a place to stay over night.
But he usually wintered at the house of some mutual friend, and the
terms upon which he stayed was that he should furnish the winter
meat. Any family living on the border was anxious and willing to
board him; for during his stay they were sure of being provided with
plenty of game and living on the fat of the land.
On one occasion winter set in earlier than usual and he did not
have his usual supply of venison on hand to supply the table of the
friend with whom he intended to winter. He made arrangements for
a long hunt in a part of the country where he knew that game was
plenty, and in a few days he would get sufficient to supply his
friend’s cabin for a long time.
The night before he intended to start, a friendly Indian called at
the cabin and asked to stay over night, which was granted.
Tom was suspicious, although the Indian appeared to be friendly.
They soon became acquainted, and it was not long before they
agreed to go on a hunt, Tom agreeing to take the venison for his
part and the Indian the skins.
Game was plenty, especially deer. In fact the woods seemed to be
full of them. It was bang!—bang!—bang! and at every report a deer
fell. They were soon skinned and the hind quarters hung up out of
the reach of bears and wolves until Tom could get time to take them
to the cabin.
When they came to count, they found that they had killed seven.
The Indian was in the best of spirits, and so was his companion.
Me lucky, said the Indian. Me got seven skins. They worth seven
dollars. That buy me piles of fire water, powder and lead. Whoop!
Whoop!
 Seven skins was all the Indian could carry, and it was resolved to
return, Tom to the cabin, and the Indian to Minisink to get powder,
fire water and lead.
The skins were securely fastened on his back, and they started.
But the Indian never reached the settlement. They had not traveled
far before the report of Tom’s gun was heard, and down went the
Indian, the ball having gone through the seven skins and penetrated
his heart.
It was not long after this that another Indian came to the house
where Tom was stopping and asked permission to stay all night,
which was granted. He professed to be very friendly, but Tom’s quick
eye soon discovered that all was not right.
During the evening the savage pretended that he had seen a great
many deer a few miles off, and asked Tom if he wouldn’t like to go
the next day and kill some of them.
Tom pretended that he was pleased with the offer, and at once
agreed to go with the Indian. But Tom was on the alert. He was well
convinced that some Indian deviltry lay behind this pretended
friendship, and acted accordingly.
During the night he managed to get the Indian’s rifle and draw the
charge and substituted ashes in the place of powder, put the ball
back in the barrel, and placed the rifle carefully back where he got
it. The next morning the savage slyly inserted the ramrod in the
barrel of his rifle, examined the priming, picked the flint and seemed
satisfied that all was right. During this time Tom watched him
intently and was more than ever convinced that the Indian intended
to take his life. But he manifested no particular interest and started
out on the hunt with no apparent concern. The snow was deep and
the hunters found it inconvenient to travel through it, and to make
the walking easier the Indian proposed that one of them should go
ahead to break the path. To this Tom readily agreed and started on
ahead. A twinkle of the eye showed that the Indian was pleased, but
Tom’s keen eye had observed that twinkle and the satisfaction that
beamed on the Indian’s countenance. When they had proceeded a
mile or two and had come to a very lonely place Tom heard the
Indian’s gun snap and the powder flash in the pan, and looking
back, asked the Indian what he had fired at. A fine buck, was his
reply. The Indian reprimed his gun and they started on. In a few
minutes Tom heard another snap and flash. Well, brother, what did
you see this time? An eagle swept over the forest, replied the
disappointed savage, at the same time priming his gun.
Brother Indian, said Tom, the snow is deep and I am tired.
Yes, brother, the Indian replied, and sullenly took his place in
advance. Tom was now ripe for blood. He raised his rifle and took
deadly aim at the Indian. Lying dog, what do you see now? The
Spirit World, and drew the blanket over his head. You came to kill
me.
Yes, replied the Indian, but you have fooled my gun.
And long Tom shall fool you. Tom’s rifle spoke and the Indian was
in the Spirit World.
One day in Tom’s wandering through the woods without his rifle
he met a young Indian armed. They soon became apparent friends.
Brother Indian, said Tom, did you ever see Tom Quick the Indian
Slayer?
No, replied the youth, but I would like to see him.
I will show him to you, follow me. They walked on until they came
to a ledge of rocks, and Tom peered over. I do not see him yet, he
said, but he will soon be along. Here he comes now. You take my
place if you want to get a good sight of him.
The Indian cocked his rifle and hastily and eagerly advanced to
Tom’s side. Where is he? excitedly inquired the red man.
There, there, said Tom, pointing so that the Indian would lean
over the brink in his desire to shoot the enemy of his race. A little
further, a little further, whispered the Indian slayer to his proposed
victim. The Indian hung over the precipice as far as he could without
falling. Tom grasped him by the shoulders and said: Shoot me would
you! Shoot me, and hurled him over the precipice. He fell on the
rocks below and was dashed to pieces. And Tom went on his way
rejoicing, leaving the body of his victim to be devoured by the crows.

HIDING GUNS IN HOLLOW TREES.

Tom’s habit of hiding guns in hollow trees in the woods on one
occasion saved his life. Two Indians had captured him near Grass
Brook and were taking him off. He seemed perfectly resigned to his
fate which appeared unavoidable, and marched with them
unreluctantly. His arms were pinioned with deer shins thongs, and
his captors kept upon him a vigilant eye, and were ready at any
moment to shoot him if he attempted to break away from them.
After a while they were visited by a shower of rain, and Tom found
that the thongs which bound his wrists began to stretch, and that
they had become so loose that he could at any time free his hands.
He was very careful to conceal this fact from the savages, and
patiently waited for a favorable time to run or do something else to
escape. Beside the path that they were pursuing there was a very
large chestnut tree which was hollow, and on the side of the trunk
that was the farthest from the path, the wood had entirely rotted
away leaving a large hollow space. In the opening thus made, Tom
had long before concealed several guns which he had found beside
dead Indians. He had also deposited with them a flask of powder
and a goodly store of bullets. When they had reached this tree, Tom
expressed an urgent desire to go to it, and gave such a good reason
for the request he made, that his captors consented to let him go.
They permitted him to do so the more readily because he had thus
far given them but little trouble. The Indians cocked their rifles when
Tom stepped from the path and aimed them at him, each with his
finger on the trigger, and watching him eagerly, determined to bring
him down if he made the least movement to escape. Tom proceeded
toward the tree very leisurely, and on reaching it, went behind it and
was concealed from the view of his enemies. Within the most
inconceivable time he charged three of his weapons with powder
and lead. The Indians little thinking what Tom was about stood in
the path with hardly a twig to screen them from his murderous fire.
Tom afterwards said that he did not stop to return the ramrods to
their places until he had as many of his guns loaded as he thought
he should need. He hesitated a moment after he was ready to shoot
fearing that his guns would “miss fire,” in consequence of their late
disuse; but knowing that this was his last chance, he blazed away at
one of the savages who fell dead in his tracks. The other tried to get
behind the nearest unoccupied tree, but he never reached there, a
bullet sent him to the Spirit land, to join hands with those that had
been sent there by Tom’s rifle on many occasions before.

AN OLD LEGEND.
According to an old legend, Tom had a very severe battle with a
savage who came to him while he was in the field at work. Tom saw
the Indian approaching him unarmed and he did not feel afraid to
encounter him on equal terms. The savage told a plausible tale
about something that he pretended he had discovered not far off
and which he wished his brother Yankee to see. Tom apparently
without suspecting anything wrong consented to go with the Indian.
His quick eye however saw a gleam of malignant satisfaction on the
countenance of his visitor that told him plainer than words could
have done what was the errand on which the red man was bent.
The savage had discovered Tom from a hill near by and concealed
his gun in the woods hoping to entice Tom to its neighborhood while
he was unarmed and then he could not defend himself. But he
counted his chickens before the eggs were hatched. Tom was never
caught napping. He was now wide awake and concluded that there
was a trap set for him. He had gone but a short distance with the
Indian when he came to a hemlock knot which he concluded would
be a very good weapon in a rough and tumble fight. He stooped to
pick it up when the savage perceived what he was at, he sprang
upon him. Then came the tug of war. Tom got hold of the knot; with
the Indian on him, therefore he could not use it. A long struggle for
life or death ensued between them. Tom finally succeeded and was
once more a conqueror. He grappled the Indian by the throat with
his teeth and strangled him to death. But to the day of his death, he
averred this was the hardest and most severe fight of his life.
According to another legend, a native attempted to kill the Indian
slayer while he was engaged in a saw mill. Tom discovered him and
arranged his coat and hat in such a way as to deceive his destroyer.
While the savage thought that he was about to shoot Tom, Tom sent
a bullet through the Indian’s body and his bullets were generally
fatal. Thus again the biter was bitten.
Previous to the Revolutionary War, a man named John Showers
lived in a log house near the Falls of Mongaup. One evening five or
six hunters met at his house which was quite a resort for such
people. As the cabin afforded better accommodations than the forest
they concluded to avail themselves of its shelter through the night.
Tom Quick was among the number. During the evening an Indian
came and asked permission to remain all night. He was told that he
could stay. Late in the evening a goodly number of logs were placed
on the fire. The hunters wrapped themselves in their blankets and
laid down on the floor to sleep. They were soon in the land of
dreams except Tom, who was watching silently for a chance to kill
the Indian. One would imagine that he had shed blood enough
already. But Tom thought otherwise. The spirit of his murdered
father still animated him. When the breathing of the sleepers
showed that they were sound asleep, Tom threw aside his blanket
and cautiously and noiselessly got his gun. In a few minutes the
hunters were awakened by an explosion. They found themselves
bespattered with brains and the Indian lay dead in their midst. Quick
immediately after the firing left the cabin and disappeared in the
forest. The hunters, after consulting, concluded the murder of the
Indian should be concealed, in order to avoid any unpleasant
consequences which might follow, if the Indians knew of it. The
Indian was buried in the morning, and his death was unknown to
any except the hunters, until concealment was no longer necessary.
CHAPTER XXV.
 The Whiskey Scene. Six Indians Roasted.

Near the close of Tom’s life, he was living in a cabin near

Barryville. Time had begun to tell on him, yet his work was not
done. The murderer of his father still lived, and the pride of his life
was to kill Muswink. He was contemplating this tragedy as he stood
at the door of his cabin and gave vent to his pent up feelings in the
following soliloquy:—
“My work is nearly done, and Indian scalps are growing scarce.
Their number now stands at 93. The contract is 100. O, that I could
meet and kill and scalp Muswink; then my work would be done and
vengeance satisfied. It was he that fired the first gun. It was he that
robbed the dead body of my father. It was he that fired my heart
and made me the avenger of the Delaware Valley. It was he that
made me vow at my father’s grave, ‘To kill all, to spare none.’ That
vow I have kept, but Muswink still lives. These hairs are growing
gray; these limbs are growing stiff; my work is not yet done.
Muswink must—shall die. To-morrow I’ll go to the Neversink and at
Decker’s tavern. I will kill and scalp the murderer of my father. Then
I will go to Rosencrance’s in the clove and die. There I shall meet
again and for the last time, brothers, sisters and friends. In love they
will close my eyes and lay me away. There I shall sweetly sleep until
Gabriel blows his horn and says, ‘Those that are in the grave come
forth.’ Then Tom will come forth with a hundred Indian scalps in his
crown as evidence that I have been a true and faithful avenger. But I
tire; I must go to my couch and dream of Muswink and to-morrow.”
Tom enters his cabin and goes to bed. Six Indians that were bent
on his destruction had been watching him, and were then planning
how they could take him alive. Noiselessly they approach the cabin
and find Tom asleep. He is seized and taken out of the cabin and
tied to a tree. Then they went for Tom’s property which consisted of
skins, furs and a keg of brandy. Their joy at finding the brandy was
unbounded and caused them in a measure to forget Tom. They
imbibed freely and a drunken revelry ensues, and all fall asleep but
one. This one was bound to put Tom beyond the means of escape.
He takes torch in one hand and a knife in the other and starts to kill
him, but the brandy had done its work. He stumbled and fell across
Tom’s body, and soon was in an unconscious drunken slumber.
Tom gets his knife, cuts his bands and escapes. The torch the
Indian carried sets fire to the cabin and the Indians are roasted in
the flames. Tom views the fire from a distance and exclaims:
That is putting the shoe on the other foot. They intended to burn
me, but they are now charcoal. But they are out of my way, and I
am out their scalps. That makes 99. Now for the Neversink, Muswink
and 100.
A few days after this a number of farmers were assembled at
Decker’s tavern, among which were the Cuddebacks, Gumaers and
Swartwouts discussing a horse race that had taken place but a few
days before, when Muswink suddenly appeared. Ugh! Ugh! here you
all be; come and drink with the Indian that killed and scalped old
Tom Quick. Come along, all of you. The war is over and the hatchet
is buried.
Don’t to be too sure of that, said Gumaer. His son, Tom, still lives,
and with him the hatchet will never be buried until he has your
scalp.
Ugh! Tom Quick take my scalp? When he does, he is welcome to
it, replied Muswink.
I understand that he is in the neighborhood and is likely to drop in
here at any moment, said Cuddeback.
Let him drop, said Muswink. I can handle him as easy as I did his
father.
Maybe not, said Swartwout. You had the first shot then. He may
get the first now.
Never, replied the savage. Muswink always ready. Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!
Here he comes now.
 At this moment Tom enters the door and Muswink salutes him:
Ugh! He looks just like his father.
Tom was exasperated and seized a chair, but was prevented from
striking him by those present.
Muswink continued: Look Tom, I will show you what a pretty face
the old man made when I jerked his scalp off. (Here Muswink made
hideous grimaces.) Wan’t that a pretty face for an old man to make.
I wonder if his son can beat it.
Scoundrel, exclaimed Tom, raising a chair.
Stop, said Gumaer. No blood shed here.
Let him come, said Muswink. I can pull off his shirt as easily as I
did his father’s sleeve buttons. Tom, do you know these buttons?
(Showing them.) Do you know that I tore them from his shirt the
same time I did the scalp from his head.
Tom could control his feelings no longer and sprang for a gun that
was hanging over the fire-place, cocked it and presented it at the
breast of Muswink, exclaiming, March!
March, where? said the frightened Indian. This was the first that
he had realized his danger. He read his doom in Tom’s countenance.
March! Tom repeated for the second time. Muswink leaves the
house closely followed by Tom with the gun at his shoulder ready to
shoot in case his victim attempted to escape. Tom drove him down
the road that leads from Cuddebackville to Carpenter’s Point. There
in a thick cluster of pines Muswink turns toward Tom and said: Tom,
would you shoot me?
Yes, replied Tom, you shot my father.
But, Tom, the war is over and peace is declared.
Tom raised his rifle and exclaimed in a stentorian voice: The war is
not over but still rages in my breast, and peace will not be declared
until you die. Die, dog, die.
 Tom’s gun spoke and was heard at Decker’s tavern, and at that
same instant Muswink went to the Spirit World. Tom silently viewed
his corpse for a few minutes and then exclaimed: Vengeance is
satisfied. I swore to drive the last red skin from the Delaware Valley.
I swore to spare none. I swore to kill the old man with silver hair,
the lisping babe without teeth; the mother quick with child; and the
maid in the bloom of youth. I have done it. The valley is clear. The
Indians have gone west or to the Spirit World. There lies the last of
his accursed race. Dog, I will not dirty my fingers with his scalp. I
will leave his body to be cooked and dried by the sun, and the scalp
to be torn from his head by the wolves. I will now return to the
mountains and talk with my father’s spirit.
Tom Quick was not destined to fall by the hand of his Indian foes,
nor to be successfully captured by white men.
CHAPTER XXVI.
 Capture, Escape and Death of Tom.

After the death of Muswink, the authorities attempted to arrest

Tom, and bring him to trial. Not that they thought him guilty of any
serious crime, but that he might be the means of bringing on
another Indian War. Most of the people justified the killing of
Muswink. First, because he was the murderer of his father; secondly,
the provocation given by Muswink at Decker’s Tavern justified Tom in
slaying him.
But at last he was arrested, tied and put in a sleigh to be taken to
Newton where he was to be tried for murder. But with the assistance
of some friends, he made his escape, ran to the river, and plunged
in, amid ice and snow, and crossed to the west bank of the river,
where he was concealed and fed by his friends for two months, and
then made his appearance in public again, and died at the house of
Jacobus Rosencrance in 1756.
Tradition says, he died of Smallpox. That the Indians hearing of
his death, dug up his remains, and distributed them among several
tribes of Indians. The Smallpox became prevalent and several tribes
were nearly annihilated. Thus, Samsonlike, “he slew more at his
death than he did when living.”
Tom Quick’s death was in keeping with his life. He firmly believed
that he was appointed by God to avenge his father’s death. At times
he had fears that his father’s spirit would be offended because he
had not sent more Indians to the Spirit world.
Tom loved his rifle and called the scalps he had taken “his crowns,
his jewels,” his passports to the Spirit world.
A short time before his death, he said to the persons that were
around him: I am going to meet my father, and fell back on his
pillow. When he awoke, he seemed to be disappointed, and looked
around in a bewildered gaze: “Where am I? Is this heaven? No this
is earth. But I am in sight of heaven. I see the silver lining behind
the cloud. I see the portals open. I hear my father say—Come Tom,
come. Where is my old companion? (His gun is handed him). Faithful
to the last. Where are my jewels, my crowns? (A string of scalps is
handed him.) These are crowns of glory, my passports to the Spirit
World. Father, I come.” And dropped back dead.
Thus ended Thomas Quick, Jr. One of the most remarkable
characters that ever lived in the Delaware Valley. His ashes now
repose on the spot where he was born. (Milford, Pa.) And after
nearly one hundred years, a suitable monument has been erected,
to perpetuate his memory.
The reader may ask, What excuse is there for his several crimes?
A conversation that took place between his mother and Maggie
Quick his niece, answers the question: Grandma what makes Uncle
Tom act so queer, and stay away from home so much?
Her grandma answered: The murder of his father turned his head,
and now he is not responsible for anything he says or does.
Yes it was the murder of his father that turned his head, and
made him the avenger of the Delaware Valley.
Gardner, in his life of Tom Quick, page 17, says: It was this sad
event that fired the heart of the bereaved and frantic son. Tom was
transformed. He was from that time forward known as the “Indian
Slayer,” or as he called himself, “the Avenger of the Delaware.”
Rough in his manners, having been accustomed from infancy as
much to Indian as to civilized life, he had a heart which beat with
the warmest affection toward all his kindred, especially his father.
The spot where his father fell beneath the ball and the scalping
knife of the Indians, was a Carthaginian altar to him. Hamlibar,
brought his son Hannibal to the altar of the Gods, that he might
swear eternal enmity to Rome.
Tom Quick’s consecration to the destruction of the race whose
warriors had wrought the death of his father, lacked indeed the
forms of religious rites, but possessed the substance, and no more
steadily on a wider field did the son of Hamlibar follow out the
pledges of his youth, than did Tom Quick press on to the fulfillment
of his vow of vengeance, thinking as he did, “that the blood of the
whole Indian race was not sufficient to atone for the blood of his
father.” His oath was not violated. He lived to see the day when he
could traverse the river from one end to the other without
encountering a red man.
But as we have said before, Tom Quick was now transformed. He
took to himself the title of the “Avenger of the Delaware.” He who
had before been a friend to both white and Indian, now carried with
him a double spirit, having no sentiment but that of friendship for
the settlers and love for his kindred, he had intense hatred and
loathing toward the Indians.
Cato, on a broader field, in the presence of the Roman Senate,
and with comparatively little provocation, was accustomed to close
his speeches with the exclamation: “Delenda est Carthage,” Let
Carthage be destroyed! Those who heard him applauded, and his
name appears high in history as a Roman patriot. The appeal of Cato
was prompted by jealousy of the rising and rival power of Carthage.
“Let the Indians be destroyed,” was the sentiment of Tom Quick.
Between the two, as regards provocation, Tom Quick stands upon
the higher ground.
Some allowance should be made in Tom’s favor. The times in
which he lived should be taken into consideration. He was born in
1734 and died in 1796, therefore he lived through the tragic times of
the French and English, and Revolutionary Wars. He lived at a time
when an enemy’s life was cheap; he lived at a time when a reward
was paid for Indian scalps. Orders were issued to that effect from
the Government: “You are to acquaint the men, that if in their
ranging if they meet with or at any time are attacked by the enemy
and kill any of them, Forty Dollars will be allowed and paid by the
Government for each scalp of an Indian enemy so killed.”
This was in 1756. In 1764 the bounties by Penn were:—“For every
male above ten years captured $150, scalped, being killed $134; for
every female Indian enemy, and every male under ten years of age,
captured $130; for every female above ten years of age, scalped
being killed $30.”
But we have no record that Tom received any bounty. The
presumption is that he scalped to revenge his father’s death and not
for money. But the strongest proof that Tom’s actions were approved
by the people, and that he was looked upon by the settlers as a
protector of their homes and the guardian of their wives and
children, is the fact that he was always welcome to their houses, and
a plate placed for him at the table. Not only this, but the fact that
they universally screened him from the Government officers. In a
word, they were proud to think that one of their number had the
courage to face the whole Indian nation of red skins.
Such was the opinion of the early settlers of the character of our
hero, and time has not changed that opinion.
His life and character has been published to the world. Historians
have eulogized his merits. Dramatists have exemplified his life and
character on the stage, and the descendants of the early settlers
have raised a monument over his dust in his native town, at the spot
where he was born to perpetuate his memory.
His historians have been James Quinlan of Monticello, N. Y., P. H.
Smith, of Newburgh, N. Y., Wm. Bross, of Chicago, Ills., and A. S.
Gardner, of Milford, Pa.
In 1888, James M. Allerton of Port Jervis, N. Y., published a drama
in five acts entitled, “Tom Quick the Avenger, or One Hundred for
One,” which was well received by the public.
And then to crown all, his descendants on the 28th of August
1889, unveiled a monument to his memory, in the presence of a
thousand persons, amid the roar of cannon and the huzzahs of a
thousand voices.
The monument stands in a street sixty feet wide, a street which is
destined to be a part of one of the leading pleasure drives of Milford.
 From the monument can be seen a range of hills extending all
around the village. Also in the distance the Shawangunk mountains
in New Jersey. Near by is the Van de Mark, which comes from a
distance among the hills towards the northwest, and flows
southeastward until it empties at Milford eddy into the Delaware.
The inscriptions on the monument are as follows:
On the side looking east: Emblem on shaft, a wreath. Inscription
on die:
Tom Quick was the first white child born within the limits
of the present Borough of Milford. This spot was
his birth-place and home till the cruel death of
his father by the Indians, 1756.
On the base next to the die:
Tom Quick, the Indian Slayer;
or
The Avenger of the Delaware.
On side of monument looking south: Emblem on shaft the
following grouped together and united by a shield: Tomahawk,
canoe paddle, scalping knife, calumet, wampum. Inscription on die:
Maddened by the death of his father in the hands of the
Savages, Tom Quick never abated his hostility to
them until the day of his death, a period of
over forty years.
On base next to the die:
Tom Quick died in 1796, at the house of James Rosecrantz
on the banks of the Delaware, five miles northeast of this
spot, and was buried on the farm of his friend in
what is now the Rose Cemetery, two miles south
of Matamoras. His remains were taken up
on the 110th anniversary of the battle of
the Minisink, July 22d, 1889, and
 placed beneath this
monument.
On north side: Emblem on shaft, plow. Inscription on die:
Thomas Quick, Sr., Father of Tom Quick, his oldest child
emigrated from Holland to America, and settled on
this spot in 1733. He was the first white settler in
this part of the upper Delaware, and his Log
Cabin Saw Mill and Grist Mill, built on
this bank of the Van De Mark, were
the first structures ever erected
by white men
in the settlement of this region.
On the base next the die:
After a peaceful residence here of twenty years, and of
unbroken friendship with the Indians, Thomas Quick,
Sr., while crossing the Delaware on the ice, carrying
a grist on his shoulder, was shot and
scalped by his supposed friends, the
Delawares, who were lying in ambush
along the bluff on the south
side of the mouth of the Van
De Mark, and half a mile
east of his humble
home.
On west side: Emblem on shaft, flag of the United States on
standard and partly furled. Inscription on die:
This monument was erected by a descendant of Thomas
Quick, of the fourth generation; in youth a resident
of Milford, in age, one of the founders of the
“Chicago Tribune,” and from 1865 to 1869
Lieutenant Governor of the State
of Illinois.
Inscription on base next to die: