Book: The Life of General Francis Marion

M >> Mason Locke Weems >> The Life of General Francis Marion




"Happy!" quoth Marion; "yes, happy indeed! and I had rather fight
for such blessings for my country, and feed on roots, than keep aloof,
though wallowing in all the luxuries of Solomon. For now, sir,
I walk the soil that gave me birth, and exult in the thought
that I am not unworthy of it. I look upon these venerable trees around me,
and feel that I do not dishonor them. I think of my own sacred rights,
and rejoice that I have not basely deserted them. And when I look forward
to the long ages of posterity, I glory in the thought that I am fighting
their battles. The children of distant generations may never hear my name;
but still it gladdens my heart to think that I am now contending
for their freedom, and all its countless blessings."

I looked at Marion as he uttered these sentiments, and fancied I felt
as when I heard the last words of the brave De Kalb. The Englishman
hung his honest head, and looked, I thought, as if he had seen
the upbraiding ghosts of his illustrious countrymen, Sidney and Hampden.

On his return to Georgetown, he was asked by colonel Watson,
why he looked so serious?

"I have cause, sir," said he, "to look serious."

"What! has general Marion refused to treat?"

"No, sir."

"Well, then, has old Washington defeated sir Henry Clinton,
and broke up our army?"

"No, sir, not that neither; but WORSE."

"Ah! what can be worse?"

"Why, sir, I have seen an American general and his officers, without pay,
and almost without clothes, living on roots and drinking water;
and all for LIBERTY! What chance have we against such men!"

It is said colonel Watson was not much obliged to him for this speech.
But the young officer was so struck with Marion's sentiments,
that he never rested until he threw up his commission,
and retired from the service.




Chapter 19.

"Ah brandy! brandy! bane of life,
Spring of tumult -- source of strife:
Could I but half thy curses tell,
The wise would wish thee safe at hell."

Curious and Instructive Anecdotes.



That great poet, John Milton, who seems to have known him well,
assures us that the devil was the inventor of gunpowder.
But, for my own part, were I in the humor to ascribe any particular invention
to the author of all evil, it should be that of distilling apple-brandy.
We have scripture for it, that he began his capers with the apple; then,
why not go on with the brandy, which is but the fiery juice of the apple?

At any rate, I am pretty sure I shall hardly ever be able to think of it again
with tolerable patience, as long as I live. For, it was that vile
filthy poison that cut me out of one of the finest plumes that I ever expected
to feather my cap with.

The case stands briefly thus. I have told the reader, that Marion
surprised and captured the celebrated tory partisan, colonel Tynes,
after killing the major part of his men. For safe keeping,
he was sent into North Carolina; whence he made his escape --
got back into the forests of Black river, and collected a stout force
to try his fortune a second time with Marion.

But, getting knowledge of the thing, Marion made one of his forced marches,
fell upon him, unawares, and broke him up worse than before;
killing and taking his whole party. Tynes was sent again to North Carolina;
whence he contrived again to make his escape; and, returning to
his old haunts, soon rallied a formidable force, for a third trial.
This news was soon brought to general Marion, who thereupon,
desired me to take forty of our best cavaliers, and see if we
could not scourge colonel Tynes once more.

About sunset we mounted, and travelled hard all that night
and until the middle of next day, when we halted, for refreshment,
at the house of one who was truly a "publican and sinner",
for he was a great TORY.

Not knowing what secret intelligence the man might convey to the enemy,
who were but fifteen miles off, I had him taken up and put under guard.
We then got dinner, for which we honorably paid the poor woman his wife.
And now comes my woeful story. While, after dinner, I was busily employed
in catechising my prisoner, how should the devil be employed,
but in tempting my men with the distilled juice of the apple? Having,
by some ill luck, found out that there was a barrel of it in the house,
they hastened to the poor landlady, who not only gave them
a full dose for the present, but filled their bottles and canteens.

As we pushed on, after dinner, in high spirits, for the enemy,
I could not but remark how constantly the men were turning up their canteens.

"What the plague have you got there, boys," said I, "that you are
so eternally drinking."

"Water! sir, water! nothing but water!" The rogues were drinking brandy
all the time; but, by way of whipping the devil round the stump,
they called it `water'! that is, `apple water'.

Presently, finding, from their gaiety and frolicksomeness,
what they had been after, I ordered a halt, and set myself to harangue them
for such unsoldierly conduct. But I might as well have talked
to a troop of drunken Yahoos. For, some of them grinned in my face
like monkeys; others looked as stupid as asses; while the greater part
chattered like magpies; each boasted what a clever fellow he was,
and what mighty things he could do, yet reeling all the time, and scarcely
able to sit his horse. Indeed our guide, a fat jolter-headed fellow,
fetching one of his heavy lee lurches, got so far beyond his perpendicular,
that he could not right again; but fell off, and came to the ground
as helpless as a miller's bag. In short, among my whole corps
there was but one sober man, and that was captain Neilson.

It is not for language to express one thousandth part of my
mortification and rage. To have made such an extraordinary march,
and at the head of such choice fellows too; to have come almost
within sight of the enemy; an enemy that I was eager to humble,
and which would have yielded me so complete and glorious a victory;
and yet to have lost all so shamefully: and thus like a fool
to be sent back to my general, with my finger in my mouth,
was, indeed, almost beyond endurance. But I was obliged to endure it.
For, to have led my men into action, in that condition,
would have been no better than murdering them. And to have kept them there
until they could have cooled off, was utterly out of the question.
For there was not a family in that whole district that would,
with their good will, have given us an hour's repose, or a morsel of bread.
I therefore instantly ordered a retreat, which was made
with all the noise and irregularity that might have been expected
from a troop of drunkards, each of whom mistaking himself
for commander in chief, gave orders according to his own mad humor;
and whooped and halloed at such a rate, that I verily believed,
no bull-drivers ever made half the racket.

That we should have obtained a most complete victory, is very certain.
For in a few days after this, we laid hands upon some of those
very same tories, who stated, that in consequence of the noise
which we made that night, colonel Tynes despatched some of his cavalry
up the road next morning, to see what was the matter.
On coming to the spot, where I had vainly endeavored to form my drunken dogs,
they found on the ground some of our plumes, which colonel Tynes no sooner saw
than he bawled out, "Marion! Marion!" then, leaping on their horses,
off they went, whip and spur.

"Well, where is colonel Tynes?" said the general, as I entered his presence.
This was the question which I had expected, and, indeed,
blushed for the answer. But after hearing my doleful story,
he replied with his usual philosophy: "Well, you did right to retreat;
but pray keep a careful eye on the apple water next time."

But to give the devil his due, I must confess there was one instance,
in which I thought some good was done by brandy. This was in
the case of captain Snipes and his command, which by way of farce
to my own tragedy, I beg leave to relate.

Hearing of a tory camp-meeting not far distant, Marion despatched
the brave captain Snipes with a party to chastise them. They had scarcely
got upon the tory cruising-ground, before, at a short turn in the road,
they came full butt upon a large body of horsemen. Supposing them
to be tories, Snipes instantly gave the word to charge;
himself leading the way with his usual impetuosity. The supposed tories,
wheeling about, took to the sands, and went off, as hard as their horses
could stave; and thus, crack and crack, they had it for about two miles.

Finding that Snipes was gaining upon them, the runagates began
to lighten themselves of every thing they could spare, and the road
was presently strewed with blankets and knapsacks. One of them, it seems,
carried a five gallon keg of brandy, which he could not think of parting with;
and being well mounted, he stood a good pull for the two first miles.
But, finding he was dropping astern very fast, he slyly cut
the straps of his mail pillion, and so let his keg, brandy and all
go by the run, over his horse's rump. Captain Snipes, who led the chase,
found no difficulty in passing the keg: but his men coming up instantly,
broached to, all standing; for they could no more pass by a keg of brandy,
than young monkeys could pass a basket of apples.

Snipes cursed and raved like a madman, but all in vain:
for they swore they must have a dram. While they were devising ways and means
how to get into the keg, the supposed tories, now a good distance ahead,
came to a halt, and their captain fortunately reflecting that
their pursuers might not be enemies, sent back a flag. The result was,
the very joyful discovery, that the owners of the keg were good whigs
coming to join general Marion. Thus, to a moral certainty,
this keg of brandy was made, of kind heaven, the happy means of preventing
much bloodshed that day.

Having given two cases of brandy, the one good, the other bad,
I will now give a third, which the reader, if he pleases,
may call indifferent, and which runs as follows.

General Marion, still encamped in the neighborhood of Georgetown,
ordered captain Withers to take sergeant Macdonald, with four volunteers,
and go on the enemy's lines to see what they were doing. On approaching
the town, they met an old tory; one of your half-witted fellows,
whom neither side regarded any more than a Jew does a pig,
and therefore suffered him to stroll when and where he pleased.
The old man knew captain Withers very well; and as soon as he had got
near enough to recollect him, he bawled out, "God's mercy, master Withers!
why, where are you going this course?"

"Going, old daddy! why to the devil, perhaps," replied Withers.

"Well faith! that's like enough, captain," said the old man,
"especially if you keep on this tack much longer. But before you go
any further, suppose you take a pull with me of this,"
holding up a stout tickler of brandy, "mayhap you may not get such good liquor
where you are going."

"With all my heart, daddy," answered Withers, and twigg'd the tickler
to the tune of a deep dram: and passed it on to Macdonald,
who also twigg'd it, "and Tom twigg'd it, and Dick twigg'd it,
and Harry twigg'd it, and so they all twigg'd it." In the mean time
the chat went round very briskly, and dram after dram, the brandy,
until the tickler was drained to the bottom. And then the subtle
spirit of the brandy, ascending into their noddles, worked such wonders,
that they all began to feel themselves as big as field officers.
Macdonald, for his part, with a face as red as a comet, reined up Selim,
and drawing his claymore, began to pitch and prance about,
cutting and slashing the empty air, as if he had a score of enemies
before him, and ever and anon, roaring out -- "Huzza, boys!
damme, let's charge!"

"Charge, boys! charge!" cried all the rest, reining up their horses,
and flourishing their swords.

"Where the plague are you going to charge?" asked the old tory.

"Why, into Georgetown, right off," replied they.

"Well, you had better have a care, boys, how you charge there,
for I'll be blamed if you do not get yourselves into business pretty quick:
for the town is chock full of red coats."

"Red coats!" one and all they roared out, "red coats! egad, that's just
what we want. Charge, boys! charge! huzza for the red coats, damme!"

Then, clapping spurs to their steeds, off went these six young mad-caps,
huzzaing and flourishing their swords, and charging at full tilt,
into a British garrison town of three hundred men!!

The enemy supposing that this was only our advance, and that general Marion,
with his whole force, would presently be upon them, flew with all speed
to their redoubt, and there lay, as snug as fleas in a sheep-skin.
But all of them were not quite so lucky, for several were overtaken
and cut down in the streets, among whom was a sergeant major,
a stout greasy fellow, who strove hard to waddle away with his bacon;
but Selim was too quick for him: and Macdonald, with a back-handed
stroke of his claymore, sent his frightened ghost to join the MAJORITY.

Having thus cleared the streets, our young troopers then called
at the houses of their friends; asked the news; and drank their grog
with great unconcern.

The British, after having for some time vainly looked for Marion,
began to smell the trick, and in great wrath sallied forth for vengeance.
Our adventurers then, in turn, were fain to scamper off
as fast as they had made the others before, but with better success;
for though hundreds of muskets were fired after them,
they got clear without receiving a scratch.

But nothing ever so mortified the British, as did this mad frolic.
"That half a dozen d--n-d young rebels," they said, "should thus dash in
among us in open daylight, and fall to cutting and slashing the king's troops
at this rate. And after all, to gallop away without the least harm
in hair or hide. 'Tis high time to turn our bayonets into pitch forks,
and go to foddering the cows."




Chapter 20.

History of captain Snipes -- wanton destruction of his property
by the tories -- his own miraculous escape -- admirable fidelity
of his negro driver Cudjo.



Captain Snipes, who made such a figure in the wars of Marion,
was a Carolinian, of uncommon strength and courage; both of which he exerted
with great good will, against the British and tories; from principle partly,
and partly from revenge. But though a choice soldier, he was no philosopher.
He did not consider that to fight for duty, people must love it;
that to love it, they must understand it; that to understand it,
they must possess letters and religion: that the British and tories,
poor fellows! possessing neither of these, were not to have been expected
to act any other than the savage and thievish part they did act;
and therefore, no more to be hated for it than the cats are
for teasing the canary birds.

But captain Snipes had no turn for investigations of this sort.
Knowledge, by intuition, was all that he cared for; and having it,
by instinct, that an "Englishman ought never to fight against liberty,"
nor an "American against his own country," he looked on them,
to use his own phrase, as a "pack of d--n-d rascals,
whom it was doing God service to kill wherever he could find them."

But Snipes was not the aggressor. He kept in, very decently,
till the enemy began to let out, as they did, in plundering, burning,
and hanging the poor whigs; and then, indeed, like a consuming fire,
his smothered hate broke forth:

"That hate which hurled to Pluto's gloomy reign
The souls of royal slaves untimely slain."

Afraid, in fair fight, to meet that sword which had so often
shivered their friends, they determined to take him as the Philistines
did Samson, by surprise; and having learned from their spies,
that he was at home, they came upon him in force about midnight.
His complete destruction, both of life and property, was their horrid aim.
Happily, his driver, or black overseer, overheard their approach;
and flying to his master with terror-struck looks, cries out
"Run! run! massa, run! de enemy 'pon you."

Snipes, stark naked, save his shirt, darted out as swift as his legs
could carry him.

"But where shall I run, Cudjo? into the barn?"

"Oh no, massa! dey burn de barn, dat sure ting!"

"Well, where shall I run then?"

"Take de bush massa! take de briar bush."

Within fifty yards of the house was a clump of briers, so thick set,
that one would have thought a frightened cat would scarcely
have squeezed herself into it from the hot pursuing dogs.
But what will not fear enable a man to do? Captain Snipes,
big as he was, slipped into it with the facility of a weasel through
the chinks of a chicken-coop; but lost every thread and thrumb of his shirt;
and moreover, got his hide so scratched and torn by the briers,
that the blood trickled from him fast as gravy from a fat green goose.

Scarcely had he gained his hiding-place, before the tories, with horrid oaths,
burst into his house, with their guns cocked, ready to shoot him.
But oh! death to their hopes! he was gone: the nest was there, and warm,
but the bird was flown!

Then seizing poor Cudjo by the throat, they bawled out: "You d----d rascal,
where's your master?"

He told them he did not know.

"You lie! you black son of a b-t-h! you lie."

But he still asserted he knew nothing of his master.

Suspecting that he must be in some one or other of his buildings,
they set fire to them all; to his dwelling house, his kitchen, his stables,
and even his negro cabins, watching all the while, with their muskets ready
to shoot him as he ran out. From their nearness to his lurking place,
the heat of his burning houses was so intense as to parch his skin
into blisters. But it was death to stir, for he would certainly
have been seen.

Not having made the discovery they so much wished, they again seized Cudjo;
and, with their cocked pieces at his breast, swore if he did not instantly
tell them where his master was, they would put him to death.

He still declared he did not know where he was.

Then they clapped a halter round his neck, and told him to "down on his knees,
and say his prayers at once, for he had but two minutes to live!"

He replied, that he "did not want to say his prayers NOW,
for that he was no thief, and had always been a true slave to his master."

This fine sentiment of the poor black was entirely lost
on our malignant whites; who, throwing the end of the halter
over the limb of an oak, tucked him up as though he had been a mad dog.
He hung till he was nearly dead; when one of them called out,
"D--n him, cut him down, I'll be bound he'll tell us now."
Cudjo was accordingly cut down; and, as soon as a little recovered,
questioned again about his master. But he still declared
he knew nothing of him. He was then hoisted a second time;
and a second time, when nearly dead, cut down and questioned as before:
but still asserted his ignorance. The same inhuman part was acted on him
a third time, but with no better success; for the brave fellow still continued
faithful to his master, who squatted and trembled in his place of torment,
his brier bush, and saw and heard all that was passing.

Persuaded now that Cudjo really knew nothing of his master, they gave up
the shameful contest, and went off, leaving him half dead on the ground,
but covered with glory.

It is not easy to conceive a situation more severely torturing
than this of captain Snipes. His house, with all his furniture,
his kitchen, his barn and rice-stacks, his stables, with several fine horses,
and his negro houses, all wrapped in flames; himself scorched and blistered
with the furious heat, yet not daring to stir; his retreat well known
to a poor slave; and that slave alone, in the hands of an enraged banditti,
with their muskets at his breast, imprecating the most horrid curses
on themselves, if they did not instantly murder him unless he disclosed
the secret! What had he to expect of this poor slave,
but that he would sink under the dreadful trial, and to save himself
would sacrifice his master. But Snipes was safe. To discover
his hiding-place, death stared his slave in the face, but, happily,
his slave possessed for him that "love which is stronger than death."

Captain Snipes and his man Cudjo had been brought up from childhood together;
and the father of our hero being a professor of Christianity,
a Baptist preacher, whose main excellence is "to teach little children
to love one another," had taken great pains to inspire his son
with love towards his little slave. Nor did that love pass unrequited.
For Cudjo used every day to follow his young master to school,
carrying his basket for him, prattling as he went; and smiling,
would remind him of the coming Saturday, and what fine fishing and hunting
they would have that day. Many a time had they wrestled,
and slept side by side on the green; and thence springing up again
with renovated strength, set out in full march for some favorite fruit tree,
or some cooling pond, there to swim and gambol in the refreshing flood.
And when the time of dinner came, Cudjo was not scornfully left
to sigh and to gnaw his nails alone, but would play and sing about the door
till his young master was done, and then he was sure to receive
a good plate full for himself. LOVE, thus early ingrafted on his heart,
grew up with daily increasing strength to manhood; when Snipes,
by the death of his father, became master of the estate,
made Cudjo his driver or overseer, and thus rivetted on his honest bosom
that sacred friendship which, as we have seen, enabled him to triumph
in one of the severest trials that human nature was ever put to.

The above is a solemn fact, and the wise will lay it to heart.




Chapter 21.

Marion pursues major Muckleworth -- fine anecdote of the major --
Marion's generosity to him.



Learning that a detachment of the British were marching up Black river
towards Statesburgh and Camden, general Marion gave orders to chase;
which was conducted, as usual, with such rapidity,
that about sunset of the second day we came up with them. Our advance,
composed of choice fellows, instantly began to skirmish with the enemy,
of whom they killed eight or nine. A few on both sides, rather badly wounded,
were made prisoners. Marion, coming up, gave orders to call off the troops,
meaning to give the enemy a serious brush in the morning. --
But of this gratification they entirely disappointed us,
by striking their tents and pushing off in silence before day.

Soon as light returned, and the retreat of the British was announced,
we renewed the pursuit; and by late breakfast-time, reached the house
at which the enemy had refreshed themselves. This house belonged
to a poor, but excellent old lady, well known to Marion.

The general was hardly alighted from his horse, before the old lady
had him by the hand, declaring how happy she had always been to see him,
"but now," continued she, "if I an't right down sorry to see you,
then I'll be hanged."

Marion, with a look of surprise, asked her why she was sorry to see him NOW.

"Oh! don't I know you too well, general? don't I know that old Scratch himself
can't keep you from fighting? And now you are hurrying along here,
with all your men, only to fight the British. An't it so now, general?"

Marion told her, that that was indeed his business.

"Well, dear me now! and did I not tell you so? But pray now,
my dear general Marion, let me beg of you, don't you do any harm
to that dear good man, that major Muckleworth,* who went from here
a little while ago: for O! he's the sweetest-spoken, mildest-looking,
noblest-spirited Englishman I ever saw in all my born days.
As to that Rawdon and Tarleton, God's curse upon the thieves and blackguards!
I would not care if you could kill a thousand of THEM.
But that good major Muckleworth! indeed, indeed now general,
you must not hurt a hair of his head, for it would be such a crying sin."

--
* Simms gives this name as "McIlraith", and James as "M`Ilraith",
but in this one case, Weems' corruption of the name,
which colloquially means "much worth", is more satisfying. -- A. L., 1997.
--

Marion asked her in what respects was he better than other British officers.

"Better than other British officers!" replied the old lady. --
"Lord bless your dear soul, general Marion! Well, come along,
come along with me, and I'll let you see."

We followed the old lady, who, tripping along nimble as a girl,
conducted us into a clean looking cabin, wherein sat a middle-aged man
very genteelly dressed, and several wounded persons lying before him,
on pallets on the floor. Marion saluted the stranger, who informed us
that he was "a surgeon in the service of his Britannic majesty,
and left by major Muckleworth to take care of the wounded;
of whom, sir, I believe that nearly one half are your own men."

Here the old lady's face brightened up towards Marion; and giving him
a very significant look, she said, "Ah ha, general! didn't I tell you so?"

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