The Life of General Francis Marion Part 31

At parting, the ruddy warriors shook hands with their returning friends, and sent their love. "Tell our fathers," said they, "that we shall think of them in the battle, and draw our sights the truer."

Then led on by the brave colonels Campbell, Cleveland, Shelby, Sevier, and Williams, they ascended the hill and commenced the attack.

Like Sinai of old, the top of the mountain was soon wrapped in smoke and flames; the leaden deaths came whizzing from all quarters; and in forty minutes Ferguson was slain, and the whole of his party killed, wounded or taken.

To avenge this mortifying blow, Cornwallis despatched colonel Tarleton with thirteen hundred and fifty picked troops, against Morgan, who had but nine hundred men, and these more than half militia.

At the first onset, the militia fled,* leaving Morgan with only four hundred to contend against thirteen hundred and fifty, rushing on furiously as to certain victory. What spectator of this scene must not have given up all for lost, and with tears resigned this little forlorn, to that unsparing slaughter which colonel Tarleton delighted in?

But, contrary to all human expectation, the devoted handful stood their ground, and, in a short time, killed and captured nearly the whole of their proud a.s.sailants!

-- * While Weems' exaggerations have been left largely unremarked in this text, the disservice done to those militia who fought bravely at Cowpens compels me to note that this description is inaccurate. -- A. L., 1997.

Raging like a wounded tiger, Cornwallis destroys all his heavy baggage, and pushes hard after Morgan. The pursuit is urged with unimaginable fury: and Cornwallis gains so fast upon the Americans, enc.u.mbered with their prisoners, that on the evening of the ninth day he came up to the banks of the Catawba, just as Morgan's rear had crossed at a deep ford.

Before the wished-for morning returned, the river was so swollen by a heavy rain, that Cornwallis could not pa.s.s. Adoring the hand of Heaven, the Americans continued their flight. On the morning of the third day, Cornwallis renewed the pursuit with redoubled fury, and by the ninth evening, came up to the banks of the Yadkin, just as Morgan's last rifle corps was about to take the ford. Presently the rain came rushing down in torrents, and by the morning light the furious river was impa.s.sable!

Who so blind as not to acknowledge the hand of G.o.d in all this?

Soon as he could get over, the wrathful Cornwallis renewed the pursuit; but before he could overtake them at Guilford Courthouse, the Americans, joined by their countrymen, gave him battle, and killed one third of his army.

Cornwallis then, in turn, fled before the Americans; and as he had outmarched them before, he outran them now, and escaped safely to Wilmington.

With largely recruited force he returned to Virginia, where four hundred deluded men, (tories) under colonel Pyles, came forward to join him.

On their way they fell in with Col. Lee and his legion.

Mistaking them for Tarleton and his cavalry, they wave their hats and cry out, "G.o.d save the king! G.o.d save the king!" Lee encourages the mistake, until they are all intermixed with his dragoons, who at a signal given, draw their swords and hew the wretches to pieces. Only one hundred make their escape. These fall in, the next day, with colonel Tarleton, who, mistaking them for what he called "d.a.m.ned rebels", ordered his troops to charge, which they did; and regardless of their repeated cries, that "they were the king's best friends," put most of them to death.

Thus wonderfully did G.o.d baffle lord Cornwallis, and visit a sudden and b.l.o.o.d.y destruction upon those unnatural wretches, who were going forth to plunge their swords into the bowels of their own country.

After this, being joined by all the British troops in that quarter, he rolled on like an angry flood to Williamsburg and York, where G.o.d sent his servant Washington, who presently captured him and his fleet and army, near ten thousand strong.

Chapter 29.

The British evacuate Charleston -- great joy of the citizens -- patriotism of the Charleston ladies.

As when a lion that has long kept at bay the fierce a.s.saulting shepherds, receives at last his mortal wound, suddenly the monster trembles under the deadly stroke; and, sadly howling, looks around with wistful eye towards his native woods. Such was the shock given to the British, when the sword of heaven-aided justice struck down the b.l.o.o.d.y Cornwallis.

With him fell the hopes of the enemy throughout our state.

In Charleston, their officers were seen standing together in groups, shaking their heads as they talked of the dreadful news.

While those who had marched up so boldly into the country, now panic-struck, were every where busied in demolishing their works, blowing up their magazines, and hurrying back to town in the utmost dismay.

Hard pressing upon the rear, we followed the steps of their flight, joyfully chasing them from a country which they had stained with blood, and pursuing them to the very gates of Charleston. As we approached the city, our eyes were presented with scenes of desolation sufficient to damp all hearts, and to inspire the deepest sense of the horrors of war.

Robbed of all animal and vegetable life, the neighboring plantations seemed but as dreary deserts, compared with what they once were, when, covered with sportive flocks and herds, and rice and corn, they smiled with plenteousness and joy. In the fields, the eyes beheld no sign of cheerful crops, nor in the woods any shape of living beast or bird, except a few mournful buzzards, silently devouring the unburied flesh of some poor wretched mortals, who had fallen in the late rencontres between the English and Americans. Indeed, had those days continued, no flesh could have been saved; but blessed be G.o.d, who shortened them, by chastising the aggressors (the British) as we have seen.

On the memorable 14th of December, 1782, we entered and took possession of our capital, after it had been two years seven months and two days in the hands of the enemy. The style of our entry was quite novel and romantic.

On condition of not being molested while embarking, the British had offered to leave the town unhurt. Accordingly, at the firing of a signal gun in the morning, as agreed on, they quitted their advanced works, near the town gate, while the Americans, moving on close in the rear, followed them all along through the city down to the water's edge, where they embarked on board their three hundred ships, which, moored out in the bay in the shape of an immense half moon, presented a most magnificent appearance.

The morning was as lovely as pure wintry air and cloudless sunbeams could render it; but rendered far lovelier still by our procession, if I may so call it, which was well calculated to awaken the most pleasurable feelings. In front, were the humble remains of that proud army, which, one and thirty months ago, captured our city, and thence, in the drunkenness of victory had hurled menaces and cruelties disgraceful to the British name: -- And close in the rear, was our band of patriots, bending forward with martial music and flying colors, to play the last joyful act in the drama of their country's deliverance; to proclaim liberty to the captive; to recall the smile on the cheek of sorrow; and to make the heart of the widow leap for joy.

Numbers, who, for years, had been confined to a single room in their own elegant houses, could now throw open their long-locked doors, and breathe and walk at large in these beloved apartments, from which they had been so long excluded. Numbers, who, for years, had mourned their separation from children, wives, and sires, were now seen rushing, with trembling joy, to the long-coveted embrace.

Oh! it was a day of jubilee indeed! a day of rejoicing never to be forgotten.

Smiles and tears were on every face. For who could remain unmoved, when they saw the little children running with outstretched arms to embrace their long absent fathers; when they saw the aged trembling with years and affection, clasping their warrior sons, glorious in arms, and those sons, with pleasure-sparkling eyes, returning the pious embrace, and congratulating the deliverance of their fathers; while all along the streets, as we moved in clouds of joy-rolling dust, nothing was to be heard but shouts of, LIBERTY and AMERICA FOREVER; and nothing was to be seen but crowds of citizens shaking hands and thanking G.o.d for bringing them to see that happy day.

And to crown all, on both sides of us, as we marched in shining rows, stood our beauteous countrywomen, mingling their congratulations.

The day was precious to all, but none I believe enjoyed it so highly as did the ladies of Charleston. Being, great numbers of them at least, women of fortune and liberal education, they had early discovered the deformity of lord North's enslaving principles, "unconditional taxation", which they abhorred worse than the yaws; and hating the measure, they could not but dislike the men who were come to execute it.

In common with their s.e.x, they were sufficiently partial to soldiers of honor.

But alas! they were not permitted the pleasure to contemplate the British in that prepossessing light. On the contrary, compelled to view them as mere 'fighting machines', venal wretches, who for pay and plunder, had degraded the man into the brute, the Briton into the buccaneer, how could they otherwise than detest them?

Nor were the manners of the British officers at all calculated to remove those antipathies. Coming to America, under the impression that the past generation were 'convicts', and the present 'rebels', they looked on and treated their daughters only as 'pretty Creoles', whom it was doing great honor to smile on!

But this prejudice against the British officers, founded first on their sordidness, then, secondly, fed by their insolence, was, thirdly and lastly, matured by their cruelty. To see the heads of their first families, without even a charge of crime, dragged from their beds at midnight, and packed off like slaves to St. Augustine; to see one of their most esteemed countrymen, the amiable colonel Haynes, hung up like a dog before their eyes; and to hear continually, from all parts, of the horrid house-burnings and murders committed by Rawdon, Tarleton, Weymies, and their tory and negro allies, filled up the measure of female detestation of the British officers.

They scorned to be seen in the same public walks with them; would not touch a glove or snuff-box from their hands; and in short, turned away from them as from the commonest felons or cut-throats.

And on the other hand, to be treated thus by 'buckskin girls', the rebel daughters of convict parents, was more than the British officers could put up with. The whig ladies, of course, were often insulted, and that very grossly too; and not only often threatened, but actually thrown into the provost or bastile. No wonder then that they were highly delighted to see such rude enemies, after repeated overthrows in the country, chased back to town, and thence, covered with disgrace, embarking to leave the country for ever. No wonder that, on hearing of our line of march that morning, they had decked themselves in their richest habits, and at the first sound of our drums, flew to their doors, windows, and balconies, to welcome our return.

Never before had they appeared half so charming. Sweet are the flowers of the field at every season of the year, but doubly sweet, when, after long icy winter, they spread all their blossoms to the spring-tide sun. Even so the daughters of Charleston, though always fair, yet never seemed so pa.s.sing fair as now, when after sustaining the long wintry storms of British oppression, they came forth in all their patriot charms to greet the welcome beams of returning liberty. And never shall I forget the accents of those lovely lips, which, from behind their waving handkerchiefs, that but half concealed their angel blushes, exclaiming, "G.o.d bless you, gentlemen! G.o.d bless you! welcome!

welcome to your homes again!"

Chapter 30.

Marion returns to his plantation -- is appointed a member of the legislature -- some valuable anecdotes of him -- his marriage -- and retirement.

After the retreat of the British from Carolina, Marion sheathed his sword for lack of argument, and went up to cultivate his little plantation in St. John's parish, where he was born. But the grat.i.tude of his countrymen did not long allow him to enjoy the sweets of that rural life, of which he was uncommonly fond. At the next election, he was in some sort compelled to stand as a candidate for the legislature, to which, by an unanimous voice, he was sent, to aid with his counsel, the operations of that government, to whose freedom his sword had so largely contributed. The friends of humanity were all highly pleased with his call to the legislature. From his well known generosity to his enemies, during the war, they fondly hoped he would do every thing in his power to extinguish that horrid flame of revenge, which still glowed in the bosoms of many against the tories.

Nor did Marion disappoint their hopes. His face was always, and undauntedly, set against every proposition that savored of severity to the tories, whom he used to call his "poor deluded countrymen". The reader may form some idea of general Marion from the following anecdote, which was related to me by the honorable Benjamin Huger, Esq.

During the furious contests in South Carolina, between the British and Americans, it was very common for men of property to play 'jack of both sides', for the sake of saving their negroes and cattle. -- Among these, a pretty numerous crew, was a wealthy old blade, who had the advantage of one of those very accommodating faces, that could shine with equal l.u.s.tre on his victorious visitants, whether Britons or buckskins. Marion soon found him out; and as soon gave him a broad hint how heartily he despised such 'tr.i.m.m.i.n.g'; for at a great public meeting where the old gentleman, with a smirking face, came up and presented his hand, Marion turned from him without deigning to receive it. Everybody was surprised at this conduct of the general, and some spoke of it in terms of high displeasure. However, it was not long before they caught the old weatherc.o.c.k at one of his tricks, and, soon as the confiscation act was pa.s.sed, had him down on the black list, fondly hoping, no doubt, to divide a large spoil.

Marion, who was then a member of the legislature, arose to speak.

The aged culprit, who also was present, turned pale and trembled at the sight of Marion, giving up all for lost. -- But how great, how agreeable was his surprise, when instead of hearing the general thundering against him for judgment, he heard him imploring for mercy!

His accusers were, if possible, still more astonished. Having counted on general Marion as his firmest foe, they were utterly mortified to find him his fastest friend, and, venting their pa.s.sion with great freedom, taxed him with inconsistency and fickleness that but illy suited with general Marion's character.

"It is scarcely eighteen months, sir," said they, "since you treated this old rascal with the most pointed and public contempt, on account of the very crime for which we wish to punish him.

And here, now, instead of taking part against him, you have declared in his favor, and have become his warmest advocate with a legislature."

"True, gentlemen," replied Marion, "but you should remember that it was war then; and therefore my duty to make a difference between the real and pretended friends of my country.

But it is peace now, and we ought to remember the virtues of men, particularly of the old and timid, rather than their follies.

And we ought to remember too, that G.o.d has given us the victory, for which we owe him eternal grat.i.tude. But cruelty to man is not the way to show our grat.i.tude to heaven."

Of the same complexion was his behavior in a large party at governor Matthew's table, just after the pa.s.sage of the famous act to confiscate the estates of the tories. "Come, general, give us a toast,"

said the governor. The gla.s.ses were all filled, and the eyes of the company fixed upon the general, who, waving his b.u.mper in the air, thus n.o.bly called out -- "Well, gentlemen, here's d.a.m.nation to the confiscation act."

The following anecdote of Marion I have heard from a thousand lips, and every time with that joy on the countenance, which evinced the deep interest which the heart takes in talking of things that are honorable to our countrymen.

While Marion was a member of the legislature, a pet.i.tion was presented to the house for an act of amnesty of all those arbitrary measures which the American officers had been obliged to adopt during the war, in order to get horses, provisions, &c. for the army. The pet.i.tion was signed by the names of all the favorite officers of the state, and among the rest, by that of our hero. Some of his friends, it seemed, had done it for him, on the supposition that he needed such an act as well as the rest.

But Marion, who had listened very attentively to the reading of the pet.i.tion, on hearing his name mentioned as one of the subscribers, instantly arose, and insisted that his name should be struck off from that paper.

He said "he had no manner of objection to the pet.i.tion; on the contrary, he most heartily approved of it, and meant to vote for it; for well did he know, he said, that during the war, we had among us a world of ignoramuses, who, for lack of knowing their danger, did not care a fig how the war went, but were sauntering about in the woods, popping at the squirrels, when they ought to have been in the field fighting the British; that such gentlemen, since they did not choose to do any thing for their country themselves, might well afford to let their cattle do something; and as they had not shed any of their blood for the public service, they might certainly spare a little corn to it; at any rate he had no notion, he said, of turning over to the mercy of these poltroons, some of the choicest spirits of the nation, to be prosecuted and torn to pieces by them; but that, nevertheless, he did not like to have his name to the pet.i.tion, for, thank G.o.d, he had no favors to ask of them. And if, during the war for his country, he had done any of them harm, there was he, and yonder his property, and let them come forward, if they dare, and demand satisfaction."

And I never heard of any man who ever accused him of the least injury done him during all the war.