Book: The Life of General Francis Marion

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The manner of his death was this. We have told the reader,
that, in the course of this day's fighting, we retook from the tories
four of Marion's Men, whom they had very barbarously beaten
with the butts of their guns. On being asked how they came to fall
into such bad company, they said, that immediately after sending me off,
in the morning, Marion got information that a party of tories
were encamped not far distant, on a plantation of colonel Alston's,
called "The Penns". Captain M---- was despatched to surprise them;
but he played his cards so badly, that, instead of surprising THEM,
they surprised HIM, killed several of his men, and took the others.
Among the prisoners was the general's nephew, lieutenant Gabriel Marion,
of the continentals, who, happening at that time on a visit to his uncle,
turned out a volunteer, and was taken. The tories murdered
several of their unfortunate prisoners in cold blood,
by first beating them over the head with the butts of their muskets,
and then shooting them. They said that lieutenant Marion,
at sight of such horrid scenes, appeared much shocked: and seeing among them
a man who had often been entertained at his uncle's table,
he flew to him for protection, and threw himself into his arms.
The man seemed greatly distressed, and tried hard to save him; but the others
roared out, that "he was one of the breed of that d----d old rebel,"
and that they would have his heart's blood. They, moreover, swore,
with the most horrid oaths, that if the man did not instantly
push young Marion from him, they would blow him through also.
The unfortunate youth being then thrust from the side of his friend,
was immediately destroyed.

I hope the tender mercies of God are so great as not to let our unworthiness
prevent him from always doing what is exactly right and good for us.
We ought not, therefore, to breathe a wish different from
the will and order of Providence. But still, to us, it seems a great pity
we did not get notice of captain M----'s advancing. We could have made
a handsome joint attack of it, and thereby not only have prevented
the horrid murders above related, but have scourged those barbarians,
as they deserved. For we heard the firing, but thought it was
colonel Alston's people killing beeves.

Among the very few prisoners that we made in our last action,
was a mulatto fellow, who was suspected to be one of those who had murdered
the general's nephew. Whether the suspicion was well or ill founded,
I cannot say: but, certain it is, that the indignation excited against him,
on that account, soon proved his destruction. For, as we were crossing
the swamps of Black river that night, an officer rode up to him,
while marching in the line of prisoners under guard, and with a pistol,
shot him dead on the spot. The captain of the guard was instantly sent for,
and severely reprimanded by the general, for not having killed
the author of that savage deed.

It was said the officer had offered a bottle of rum to have the mulatto shot,
but, finding none that would do it, he did it himself. I do not give this
as a fact, but, I know it was the talk in camp, though carefully kept
from the general, as everybody knew it would have given him great pain.
He often said, "he truly lamented the untimely death of his nephew;
and that he had been told, that this poor man was his murderer.
But that, as a prisoner, his life ought to have been held most sacred;
especially as the charge against him was without evidence, and, perhaps,
no better than conjecture. As to my nephew," continued he,
"I believe he was cruelly murdered: but living virtuously, as he did,
and then dying fighting for the rights of man, he is, no doubt, happy:
and this is my comfort."

The next day Marion ordered the troops under arms, and formed them
into a large circle, all fronting the centre. While we were wondering
what could be the meaning of this strange manoeuvre, a sergeant was seen
leading into the circle an elegant horse, under saddle and bridle,
with portmanteau, sword, pistols, and musket. This was the horse,
furniture, and arms of captain Lewis, whom the lad Gwinn,
so fortunately for me, had killed in the action three days before.
Marion then called Gwinn from the ranks.

The boy approached him with his hat off.

The general, placing his hand upon his head, in the presence
of the whole squadron, pronounced him "a brave little man; and there,"
pointing to the horse and furniture, "there is the reward of your gallantry."

"Gwinn, sir," said I, "is not a good soldier, he fired without orders."

"That's very true," replied he, "but I am sure, colonel,
you are the last that ought to blame me, on that account;
for if I had not fired and killed captain Lewis, exactly as I did,
he would have killed you; and besides, his saying he was
the friend of GEORGE THE THIRD, was enough for ME; I did not think
I could fire too quick on such a man as that."

But when the sergeant, at the order of Marion, led up to him the horse,
richly furnitured, as aforesaid, the confusion and grimace of the lad
were truly diverting. He blushed, he chuckled, he looked around and around
upon his comrades, as if at a loss how to contain himself, or what to do.
At length he made shift to reach out his hand to the bridle,
though deeply blushing, and said, "Dear me now! well la!
what will mammy think, and the children, when they come to see me,
riding up here on this famous horse, and all these fine things!
I know well enough how mammy will have a hearty cry, that's what she will;
for she will think I STOLED him. But if any of the folks up our way
should go to jaw about me, at that rate, I trust as how, general,
you will take my part, and set 'em straight."

Marion smiled, and commended him for a good boy, and told him
to give his compliments to his mother, and also his thanks to her,
for being such a true mother to her children, in bringing them up so honestly.

But the general was told the next day, that Gwinn had said,
"he always hated the tories, because they would not fight for their country;
and, since the general had paid him so well for killing one of them,
he was determined to try if he could not kill more."

And he did kill more too, I'll warrant him, for he was with us
to the end of the war, in many a hard brush. And then he was such a dead shot
with a rifle! Standing, running, or flying, it was all one to Gwinn.
He would make nothing, at a hundred yards, to stop you a buck, at full tilt
through the woods, as hard as he could crack it; and at every clip,
to bring down the squirrels from the tops of the tallest trees of the forest.




Chapter 18.

Mutiny in our camp -- Marion suppresses it -- his address to the officers.



This war, though on our part a war of virtue, was not always so pleasant
as might have been expected. Instances of human weakness often occurred
to disturb our harmony, and fill good men's hearts with sorrow.
For how, without grief, could we behold a man fighting by our side to-day
like a hero, for the rights of bleeding humanity; to-morrow,
like a headstrong child, or a headlong beast, trampling them under foot!
And oh! how sad to see nature's goodliest gifts, of manly size, and strength,
and courage, set off, too, in the proudest ornaments of war,
the fierce cocked hat, the flaming regimentals, and golden shoulder-knots,
all defeated of their power to charm, nay, all turned into pity and contempt,
in consequence of our knowing the owners to be gamblers, swindlers,
and villains!

Such was the truly pitiable case of some, in this our glorious war of liberty.
For want of a good education, I mean the early precepts of virtue,
from a parent's lips, with a few excellent books, to lift the noble kindlings
of the soul, the flame could not ascend to what was heavenly and just;
but with inverted point, struck downward to selfishness and vice.
Men of this character, though enlisted in the war of liberty,
were not her soldiers, felt not her enthusiasm, nor her consolations.
They did not walk the camp, glorying in themselves, as men called
to the honor of humbling the tyrant, and of establishing
the golden reign of equal laws, in their own dear country,
and thence, perhaps over all the earth. Alas! no! strangers to
these divine views and wishes, they look no higher than sordid gain!
and as there was but little of that reward to be had, they were often
gloomy and low spirited. "Their life," they were wont murmuringly to say,
"was wearing away; their country gave them nothing, and they must e'en
try to do something for themselves."

In truth, PLUNDER, PLUNDER, was what they were spelling for. They were
continually darting their greedy eyes upon every piece of merchandise
that came in their way. They had the heart not only to plunder the tories,
and to bring their unoffending children to want; but also to rob and ruin
their own friends the whigs, if they could but do it with impunity.

I am led to these reflections by a most shameful affair,
which happened in our camp about this time, and which threatened consequences
as serious as their source was shameful.

We were encamped near the house of a rich man by the name of Cross. His wife,
in sense and domestic virtues, was an Abigail; while as to her husband,
his riches, though great, were his least recommendation,
for he possessed all the generosity and honor of the noblest patriot.
His soul delighted in Marion, whom he called the `pillar of our cause'.
Oft as he took leave of us, for battle, his bosom would heave,
his visage swell, and the tear would start into his eye.
And when he saw us return again, loaded with the spoils of victory,
he would rush to meet us, with all a brother's transports on his face.
His flocks and herds, his meat-houses and corn-fields, were all our own;
while his generous looks would tell us that he still wished for more to give.
Indeed, often at the most imminent risk of his life,
he used to send us intelligence, and also furnish us with powder and ball.
But this most amiable of men, was not permitted to see our cause triumphant;
for in the midst of his sighs and tears for his struggling country,
God took him to his own rest. The messenger of death came to him,
in the character of a nervous fever. As the physicians
did not like to visit him on his plantation, he was carried into Georgetown
to be near them.

Marion went to see him the morning he set out; and immediately after
his departure, fixed a guard at his house, that nothing might be disturbed.
One would indeed have supposed it unnecessary to place a guard over such
a house as his. But alas! what will not a base heart-hardening avarice do!
And I blush while I relate, that, the very day after our generous friend
was carried off, pale and hollow-eyed, to Georgetown,
whence he never more returned, two of our officers, one of them a MAJOR,
went to his house to pillage it!

The guard, of course, opposed: but they damned him for
an "impertinent rascal", and swore that if he opened his mouth again,
they would spit him on the spot. Then bursting the door, they went in,
and after forcing the desks, drawers, and trunks, they rifled them
of whatever they wanted.

This most unsoldierly and detestable transaction was communicated to me
by Mrs. Cross herself; whose servant came to me next morning
with her compliments, and requested that I would go down to her,
where she was sitting in her carriage at the road. I waited on her at once;
and greatly to my grief, found her in tears. I entreated to know the cause.

"Oh, sir," replied she, "we are ruined! we are ruined! Poor Mr. Cross is,
I fear, on his deathbed. And then what will become of me
and my poor children, when he is gone, and every thing is taken from us!"
She then reminded me of her husband's love to general Marion and his people,
from whom he withheld nothing, but gladly imparted of all he had,
though often at the risk of his utter destruction from the British and tories.
"And yet, after all," said she, "soon as my poor sick husband's back
is turned, your people can go and break him up!"

"Madam," I replied, "I hope 'tis no offence to ask your pardon;
for I really cannot admit a suspicion so disgraceful to our troop:
and to my certain knowledge, general Marion placed a guard over your house
the moment Mr. Cross left it."

"Yes, sir," said she, "that's very true. And it was like general Marion.
But some of our officers have forced the guard and broken open the house,
and this instant I saw one of them with Mr. Cross's sword by his side."

I never felt more mortified in my life. Then, after entreating her
to be perfectly easy about her house and furniture in future,
I took leave of this excellent lady, and flew to the guard
to see if what I had heard were true.

He told me it was too true; mentioned the names of the officers;
and even went so far as to show me one of them strutting about
with the sword by his side!

It was well for the wretch, that I did not possess the eyes of a basilisk,
for I should certainly have blasted him on the spot. Pausing, however,
one salutary moment, to confirm myself in the love of virtue,
by noting how abominable a villain looks, I hasted to the general
with the hateful tale; which excited in his honest bosom the indignation
which I had expected. Then calling one of his aids, he said,
"Go to major ----, and desire him to send me Mr. Cross's sword immediately."

The aid was presently back, but without the sword. On being asked
by the general, why he had not brought it, he replied; "The major says, sir,
that the sword does not belong to Mr. Cross. He says, moreover,
that if you want the sword, you must go for it yourself."

"Well, go back," said the general, "and desire those two officers
to come to me."

It was not for such an affair as this to be kept secret.
It took wind in a moment; and by the time the two officers were arrived,
almost all the field officers had come together to the general's quarters,
to see how he would act on this extraordinary occasion.

Inferring from the looks of the two culprits, that they meant
to test his firmness; and, willing that the company should fully understand
the merits of the case, he thus addressed us:

"You well know, gentlemen," said he, "how like a brother
the proprietor of this plantation has always treated us.
We never gained a victory, but it caused him tears of joy;
and however starved by others, by him we have ever been feasted.
You also know, that he is now gone, sick, to Georgetown --
there, perhaps, to die. Soon as he left us, I placed a guard over his house;
but, at the same time, blushed for the reflection cast on my men;
all of whom, as I thought, would, instead of robbing, have defended it
with their lives. But, equally to my astonishment and grief,
I find I was mistaken. Yes, gentlemen, our friend has been robbed,
not by the poor untutored privates in the ranks, but by my OFFICERS!
by those who ought to have ABHORRED such an act! Yes, gentlemen,
two of our brethren in arms -- two of our officers -- forgetting what
they owed to you, what they owed to me, and, most of all,
to their country and to themselves, have done this odious deed!
And one of them (here he pointed to the major) now wears by his side
the sword of our sick and injured friend.

"Well knowing that all men, even the best, have too often `done those things
which they ought not to have done,' I felt it my duty to be as tender
with this gentleman as possible; and therefore, sent him a polite request
that he would return the sword: to which he was pleased to reply,
that `if I wanted it, I must come and take it myself.' Still wishing
to settle the affair in a way as much to his credit as possible,
I sent for him to come to me. And now, sir, (addressing the major)
I entreat of you, for the last time, to give me up that sword."

With great rudeness he swore he would not. Instantly every face was dark:
and, biting his lip with rage, each officer laid his hand upon his sword
and looked to the general. One word, nay, one assenting LOOK,
and the brute would have been hewed into mincemeat in a moment.
For my own part, whether I felt more, or governed myself less than the rest,
I cannot say: but looking to the general, I broke out with an oath,
that if I commanded as he did, I would have that fellow hung in five minutes.

"This is no business of yours, sir," replied he, rather sternly;
"they are now before me."

Then looking at the major, still with great benignity, he said --
"And do you really mean, sir, not to give me up that sword?"

"Sir, I will not!" replied the major.

"Sergeant of the guard!" said the general, "bring me instantly
a file of soldiers!"

Upon this, the major's colleague, who stood by, was seen to touch him.

Seeing the guard coming up with their naked weapons, and much anger
in their looks, the major lost his courage, turned pale,
and, in a sadly altered tone, whined out, "General, you needed not
to have called in the guard. I will deliver up the sword. Here it is."

"No, sir, I will not accept it at your hands. Give it to the sergeant."

To this humiliating order, with much shame and blushing,
the poor major was constrained to comply.

Thus, happily, were extinguished the first sparks of a mutiny,
which, it was once thought, would have broken out into a dangerous flame.
The cool, dispassionate address which effected this, did not fail
to produce a proper impression on us all. This the general
easily perceived in our looks; and thereupon, as was common with him,
when any such occasion served, he arose and addressed us,
in, as nearly as I can recollect, the following words:

"When, gentlemen, shall we catch the spirit of our profession;
the spirit of men fighting for a republic, a commonwealth of brothers!
that government most glorious, where God alone is king!
that government most pleasant, where men make and obey their own laws!
and that government most prosperous, where men, reaping as they sow,
feel the utmost stimulus to every virtue that can exalt
the human character and condition! This government, the glory of the earth,
has ever been the desire of the wise and good of all nations.
For this, the Platos of Greece, the Catos of Rome, the Tells of Switzerland,
the Sidneys of England, and the Washingtons of America,
have sighed and reasoned, have fought and died. In this grand army,
gentlemen, we are now enlisted; and are combatting under the same banners
with those excellent men of the earth. Then let self-gratulation
gladden our every heart, and swell each high-toned nerve.
With such worthies by our sides, with such a CAUSE before our eyes,
let us move on with joy to the battle and charge like the honored
champions of God and of human rights. But, in the moment of victory,
let the supplicating enemy find us as lovely in mercy, as we are terrible
in valor. Our enemies are blind. They neither understand nor desire
the happiness of mankind. Ignorant, therefore, as children,
they claim our pity for themselves. And as to their widows and little ones,
the very thought of them should fill our souls with tenderness.
The crib that contains their corn, the cow that gives them milk,
the cabin that shelters their feeble heads from the storm,
should be sacred in our eyes. Weak and helpless, as they are,
still they are the nurslings of heaven -- our best intercessors
with the Almighty. Let them but give us their blessings, and I care not
how much the British curse. Let their prayers ascend up before God
in our behalf, and Cornwallis and Tarleton shall yet flee before us,
like frightened wolves before the well armed shepherds!"

Such were the words of Marion, in the day when he saw in our looks,
that our hearts were prepared for instruction. And such was the epilogue
to the mutiny. The satisfaction which it gave to the officers
was so general and sincere, that I often heard them say afterwards,
that since the mutiny was suppressed, they were glad it happened;
for it had given them an opportunity to hear a lecture,
which they hoped would make them better men and braver soldiers too,
as long as they lived.

About this time we received a flag from the enemy in Georgetown;
the object of which was, to make some arrangements about
the exchange of prisoners. The flag, after the usual
ceremony of blindfolding, was conducted into Marion's encampment.
Having heard great talk about general Marion, his fancy had, naturally enough,
sketched out for him some stout figure of a warrior, such as O'Hara
or Cornwallis himself, of martial aspect and flaming regimentals.
But what was his surprise, when, led into Marion's presence,
and the bandage taken from his eyes, he beheld in our hero,
a swarthy, smoke-dried little man, with scarce enough of threadbare homespun
to cover his nakedness! and in place of tall ranks, of gaily dressed soldiers,
a handful of sunburnt yellow-legged militia-men; some roasting potatoes
and some asleep, with their black firelocks and powder-horns
lying by them on the logs! Having recovered a little from his surprise,
he presented his letter to general Marion; who perused it,
and soon settled everything to his satisfaction.

The officer took up his hat to retire.

"Oh no!" said Marion; "it is now about our time of dining; and I hope, sir,
you will give us the pleasure of your company to dinner."

At mention of the word `dinner', the British officer looked around him;
but to his great mortification, could see no sign of a pot, pan, Dutch-oven,
or any other cooking utensil that could raise the spirits of a hungry man.

"Well, Tom," said the general to one of his men, "come, give us our dinner."

The dinner to which he alluded, was no other than a heap of sweet potatoes,
that were very snugly roasting under the embers, and which Tom,
with his pine stick poker, soon liberated from their ashy confinement;
pinching them, every now and then, with his fingers, especially the big ones,
to see whether they were well done or not. Then having
cleansed them of the ashes, partly by blowing them with his breath,
and partly by brushing them with the sleeve of his old cotton shirt,
he piled some of the best on a large piece of bark, and placed them
between the British officer and Marion, on the trunk of the fallen pine
on which they sat.

"I fear, sir," said the general, "our dinner will not prove
so palatable to you as I could wish; but it is the best we have."

The officer, who was a well bred man, took up one of the potatoes
and affected to feed, as if he had found a great dainty;
but it was very plain, that he ate more from good manners than good appetite.

Presently he broke out into a hearty laugh. Marion looked surprised.
"I beg pardon, general," said he: "but one cannot, you know,
always command his conceits. I was thinking how drolly
some of my brother officers would look, if our government were to give them
such a bill of fare as this."

"I suppose," replied Marion, "it is not equal to their style of dining."

"No, indeed," quoth the officer; "and this, I imagine,
is one of your accidental lent dinners; a sort of a `ban yan'.
In general, no doubt, you live a great deal better."

"Rather worse," answered the general: "for often we don't get
enough of this."

"Heavens!" rejoined the officer. "But probably, what you lose in meal
you make up in malt; though stinted in provisions, you draw noble pay?"

"Not a cent, sir," said Marion, "not a cent."

"Heavens and earth! then you must be in a bad box. I don't see, general,
how you can stand it."

"Why, sir," replied Marion, with a smile of self-approbation,
"these things depend on feeling."

The Englishman said, he "did not believe that it would be an easy matter
to reconcile his feelings to a soldier's life on general Marion's terms;
all fighting and no pay! and no provisions but potatoes!"

"Why, sir," answered the general, "the heart is all; and, when that
is much interested, a man can do any thing. Many a youth would think it hard
to indent himself a slave for fourteen years. But let him be
over head and ears in love, and with such a beauteous sweetheart as Rachael,
and he will think no more of fourteen years' servitude than young Jacob did.
Well, now, this is exactly my case. I am in love; and my sweetheart
is LIBERTY. Be that heavenly nymph my companion, and these wilds and woods
shall have charms beyond London and Paris in slavery.
To have no proud monarch driving over me with his gilt coaches;
nor his host of excise-men and tax-gatherers insulting and robbing me;
but to be my own master, my own prince and sovereign, gloriously preserving
my national dignity, and pursuing my true happiness; planting my vineyards,
and eating their luscious fruits; and sowing my fields,
and reaping the golden grain: and seeing millions of brothers all around me,
equally free and happy as myself. This, sir, is what I long for."

The officer replied, that both as a man and a Briton, he must certainly
subscribe to this as a happy state of things.

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