Book: The Life of General Francis Marion

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There was one case in particular which I shall never forget.
Almost spent with fatigue and fasting, we halted one evening
near the house of a man, whose plantation bespoke him a tolerably good liver.
He met us with a countenance strongly marked with terror,
and begged for God's sake we would not ruin him, for that he had
a large family of children to maintain. We told him that we were soldiers
fighting for the country, and that it would never do for us to starve.
Understanding from this that we meant to forage upon him that night,
he heaved a deep sigh, and turning about, went off without saying
another word. I must confess I could not help feeling very sensibly for him,
especially when we saw his little white-headed children, in melancholy groups,
peeping at us around the corners of the house.

His young corn, which seemed to cover about fifty acres,
was just in the prime, roasting ear state, and he had also
a couple of beautiful orchards of peach and apple trees,
loaded with young fruit. Scarcely were our tents pitched,
before the whole army, foot and horse, turned in to destroy.
The trees were all threshed in a trice; after which the soldiers fell,
like a herd of wild boars, upon the roasting ears, and the horses
upon the blades and stalks, so that by morning light
there was no sign or symptom left that corn had ever grown there
since the creation of the world. What became of the poor man and his children
God only knows, for by sunrise we were all under marching orders again,
bending for the south. I said ALL, but I only meant all that were ABLE.
For numbers were knocked up every night by agues, fluxes, and other maladies,
brought on by excessive fatigue and lack of food.

I once before observed how highly the baron de Kalb had been pleased
to think of Marion and myself travelling so far to meet him.
His liking for us grew so fast, that we had not been with him
more than two days, before he appointed us his supernumerary aids.
We were, of course, much in his company, and entrusted, I believe,
with every thought of his bosom that related to the good of the army.
He made no scruple to tell us how utterly unmilitary those proceedings were;
and frequently foretold the ruin that would ensue.

"Here," said he, "we are hurrying to attack an enemy, who,
if they but knew our condition, would long for nothing so much
as our arrival. We, two-thirds at least, raw militia; they, all regulars.
We, fatigued; they, fresh. We, feeble and faint through long fasting;
they, from high keeping, as strong and fierce as game cocks or butchers'
bull dogs. It does not signify, gentlemen; it is all over with us;
our army is lost as sure as ever it comes into contact with the British.
I have hinted these things more than once to general Gates,
but he is an officer who will take no counsel but his own."

The truth is, general Gates was one of that crazy-brained quality,
to whom it is a misfortune to be fortunate. The least dram of success
would intoxicate and make him fool hardy. He could never bring himself
to believe, as he used to say, that "lord Cornwallis would dare to look him
in the face."

So confident, indeed, was he of victory, that on the morning before
the fatal action, he ordered Marion and myself to hasten on to Santee river,
and destroy every scow, boat or canoe, that could assist an Englishman
in his flight to Charleston!

Immediately on receiving orders, we waited on the good old De Kalb
to take leave; and also to assure him of our deep regret at parting with him.

"It is with equal regret, my dear sirs," said he, "that I part with you,
because I feel a presentiment that we part to meet no more."

We told him we hoped better things.

"Oh no!" replied he, "it is impossible. War is a kind of game,
and has its fixed rules, whereby, when we are well acquainted with them,
we can pretty correctly tell how the trial will go. To-morrow, it seems,
the die is to be cast, and in my judgment, without the least chance
on our side. The militia will, I suppose, as usual, play the back-game,
that is, get out of the scrape as fast as their legs can carry them.
But that, you know, won't do for me. I am an old soldier, and cannot run:
and I believe I have with me some brave fellows that will stand by me
to the last. So that, when you hear of our battle, you will probably hear
that your old friend De Kalb is at rest."

I do not know that I was ever more affected in my life.
I looked at Marion and saw that his eyes were watery. De Kalb saw it too,
and taking us by the hand, with a firm tone, and animated look,
said, "No! no! gentlemen; no emotions for me but those of congratulation.
I am happy. To die is the irreversible decree of him who made us.
Then what joy to be able to meet his decree without dismay!
This, thank God, is my case. The happiness of man is my wish, that happiness
I deem inconsistent with slavery. -- And to avert so great an evil
from an innocent people, I will gladly meet the British to-morrow,
at any odds whatever."

As he spoke this, I saw a something in his eyes which at once demonstrated
the divinity of virtue and the immortality of the soul.

With sorrowful hearts we then left him, and with feelings which
I shall never forget, while memory maintains her place in this my aged brain.

"Oh my God!" said Marion, as we rode off, "what a difference
does education make between man and man! Enlightened by her sacred ray,
see here is the native of a distant country, come to fight
for our liberty and happiness, while many of our own people,
for lack of education, are actually aiding the British
to heap chains and curses upon themselves and children."

It was on the morning of August the 15th, 1780, that we left the army
in a good position near Rugeley's mills, twelve miles from Camden,
where the enemy lay. About ten o'clock that night orders were given to march
to surprise the enemy, who had at the same time commenced their march,
to surprise the Americans. To their mutual astonishment,
the advance of the two armies met about two o'clock, and began to fire
on each other. The firing, however, was soon discontinued by both parties,
who appeared very willing to leave the matter to be decided by daylight.

A council of war was called: in which De Kalb advised that the army
should fall back to Rugeley's mills, and there, in a good position,
wait to be attacked. --

But Gates not only rejected this excellent counsel, but threw out suspicions
that it originated from fear. Upon this, the brave old De Kalb
called to his servant to take his horse, and leaping on the ground,
placed himself at the head of his command, on foot. To this indecent
expression of general Gates, he also retorted with considerable warmth,
"Well, sir, a few hours perhaps will let us see who are the brave."

It should be recorded for the benefit of our officers,
many of whose laurels have been blasted by the fumes of brandy,
that general Gates was rather too fond of his nocturnal glass.

"I wonder where we shall dine to-morrow?" said one of his officers,
as, in the dark, they sat on their sleepy horses waiting for the day.

"Dine, sir!" replied the confident Gates, "why at Camden, sir, to be sure.
Begad! I would not give a pinch of snuff, sir, to be insured a beef-steak
to-morrow in Camden, and lord Cornwallis at my table."

Presently day appeared; and, as the dawning light increased,
the frighted militia began to discover the woods reddening over like crimson
with the long extended lines of the British army, which soon,
with rattling drums and thundering cannon, came rushing on to the charge.
The militia, scarcely waiting to give them a distant fire, broke and fled
in the utmost precipitation. Whereupon Gates clapped spurs to his horse,
and pushed hard after them, as he said, "to bring the rascals back."
But he took care never to bring himself back, nor indeed to stop
until he had fairly reached Charlotte, eighty miles from the field of battle.
I remember it was common to talk in those days, that he killed three horses
in his flight.

Gates and the militia, composing two-thirds of the army,
having thus shamefully taken themselves off, the brave old De Kalb,
and his handful of continentals were left alone to try the fortune of the day.
And never did men display a more determined valor! For though outnumbered
more than two to one, they sustained the shock of the enemy's whole force,
for upwards of an hour. With equal fury the ranks-sweeping cannon and muskets
were employed by both sides, until the contending legions were nearly mixed.
Then quitting this slower mode of slaughter, with rage-blackened faces
and fiery eyeballs, they plunge forward on each other,
to the swifter vengeance of the bayonet. Far and wide the woods resound
with the clang of steel, while the red reeking weapons, like stings
of infernal serpents, are seen piercing the bodies of the combatants.
Some, on receiving the fatal stab, let drop their useless arms,
and with dying fingers clasped the hostile steel that's cold in their bowels.
Others, faintly crying out, "O God I am slain!" sank pale,
quivering to the ground, while the vital current gushed in hissing streams
from their bursted bosoms. Officers, as well as men, now mingle
in the uproaring strife, and snatching the weapons of the slain,
swell the horrid carnage. Glorying in his continentals,
the brave De Kalb towers before them, like a pillar of fire.
His burning face is like a red star, guiding their destructive course;
his voice, as the horn that kindles the young pack in the chase of blood.
A British grenadier, of giant size, rushes on him with a fixed bayonet.
De Kalb parries the furious blow, and plunges his sword
in the Briton's breast; then, seizing his falling arms, he deals death
around him on the crowding foe. Loud rise the shouts of the Americans;
but louder still the shouts of the more numerous enemy.
The battle burns anew along all the fierce conflicting line.
There, the distant Cornwallis pushes on his fresh regiments,
like red clouds, bursting in thunder on the Americans; and here,
condensing his diminished legions, the brave De Kalb still maintains
the unequal contest. But, alas! what can valor do against equal valor,
aided by such fearful odds? The sons of freedom bleed on every side.
With grief their gallant leader marks the fall of his heroes;
soon himself to fall. For, as with a face all inflamed in the fight,
he bends forward animating his men, he receives ELEVEN WOUNDS!
Fainting with loss of blood, he falls to the ground. Several brave men,
Britons and Americans, were killed over him, as they furiously strove
to destroy or to defend. In the midst of the clashing bayonets,
his only surviving aid, Monsieur du Buyson, ran to him, and stretching
his arms over the fallen hero, called out, "Save the baron de Kalb!
Save the baron de Kalb!" The British officers interposed,
and prevented his immediate destruction.

It has been said that lord Cornwallis was so struck with
the bravery of De Kalb, that he generously superintended
while his wounds were dressed, by his own surgeons. It has also been said,
that he appointed him to be buried with the honors of war.
British officers have been often known to do such noble deeds,
but that lord Cornwallis was capable of acting so honorably, is doubtful.

De Kalb died as he had lived, the unconquered friend of liberty.
For, being kindly condoled with by a British officer for his misfortune,
he replied, "I thank you, sir, for your generous sympathy;
but I die the death I always prayed for; the death of a soldier
fighting for the rights of man."

His last moments were spent in dictating a letter to a friend
concerning his continentals, of whom he said, he "had no words
that could sufficiently express his love, and his admiration of their valor."
He survived the action but a few hours, and was buried
in the plains of Camden, near which his last battle was fought.

When the great Washington, many years afterwards, came on a visit to Camden
he eagerly inquired for the grave of De Kalb. It was shown to him.
After looking on it a while, with a countenance marked with thought,
he breathed a deep sigh, and exclaimed -- "So, there lies the brave De Kalb;
the generous stranger, who came from a distant land, to fight our battles,
and to water, with his blood, the tree of our liberty.
Would to God he had lived to share with us its fruits!"

Congress ordered him a monument. But the friend of St. Tammany
still sleeps "without his fame". I have seen the place of his rest.
It was the lowest spot of the plain. No sculptured warrior
mourned at his low-laid head; no cypress decked his heel.
But the tall corn stood in darkening ranks around him,
and seemed to shake their green leaves with joy over his narrow dwelling.

But the roar of his battle is not yet quite passed away,
nor his ghastly wounds forgotten. The citizens of Camden
have lately enclosed his grave, and placed on it handsome marble,
with an epitaph gratefully descriptive of his VIRTUES and SERVICES,
that the people of future days may, like Washington, heave the sigh
when they read of "the generous stranger who came from a distant land
to fight their battles, and to water, with his blood,
the tree of their liberties."

Fair Camden's plains his glorious dust inhume,
Where annual Ceres shades her hero's tomb.




Chapter 13.

Marion and the author very busy in destroying the rice-makers' boats
on Santee -- first got the news of the defeat of our army,
and death of the brave De Kalb -- Marion addresses his followers --
their gallant reply.



Marion and myself, as yet ignorant of the fate of the army, were on
the waters of the Santee, very busily executing our boat-burning orders.
Not content with destroying the common scows and flats of the ferries,
we went on to sweep the river of every skiff and canoe
that we could lay hands on; nay, had the harmless wonkopkins been able
to ferry an Englishman over the river, we should certainly have declared war
and hurled our firebrands among them.

The reader may be sure we gained no good will by our zeal in this affair;
for it was a serious thing to the planters: and their wrath
waxed exceedingly hot against us. Among that fleet of boats and flats
that perished by our firebrands or hatchets, there were two that belonged
to my excellent old uncle, colonel E. Horry. The old gentleman
could hardly believe his negroes, when they told him
that we were destroying his boats. However, to be satisfied of the matter,
he mounted his horse, and galloped down to the river to see.
We had completely done for his scow, and were just giving
the finishing blows to his boat as he hove in sight; whereupon,
clapping whip and spur to his horse, he came on as hard as he could drive.
Soon as he was within hailing distance of an ordinary speaking trumpet,
he began to bawl -- "Hold! hold! for God's sake hold!"

Then dashing up, with cheeks red as fire coals, and his mouth all in a lather,
he roared out, "Why, what? what? what are you about here?"

"We are only trying to kidnap the British, uncle," said I.

"Kidnap the d---l," he replied.

Then looking around, and seeing how completely we had shivered
his fine new boat and scow, he ripped out again -- "Well! here is a pretty
spot of work! a pretty spot of work! A brand new scow and boat,
that cost me, only last spring, three hundred dollars! every farthing of it!
and here now all cut to smash! ruined! not worth a chew of tobacco!
why! did mortal flesh ever see the like of this? Breaking up our boats!
why, how are we to harvest our rice?"

"Uncle," said I, "you had better think less of harvesting your rice,
and more of catching the muskrats," meaning the British.

Here, darting at me an eye of inexpressible astonishment and rage,
he exclaimed -- "Why, certainly the d---l is in the young man!
catch the British? Why, have you not heard that the British are carrying
every thing before them; have broke up our army; cut the regulars to pieces;
scattered the militia; and chased general Gates to Jericho,
and to the d---l for what I care?"

"God forbid!" said Marion.

"Nay, that is past praying for," replied my uncle, "and if you had
any interest in heaven, you ought to have made it sooner.
It is too late now."

"Great God!" returned Marion; "and so our army is lost!"

"Yes," continued my uncle; "lost, as sure as a gun: and that is not all;
for De Kalb is killed; Sumter surprised and cut to pieces;
and Charleston illuminated every night for joy."

We could neither of us utter a word.

Presently my uncle, casting a searching eye around on our men,
about thirty in number, asked where our troops were.

I told him those were all the troops we had.

I thought the good old gentleman would have gone into fits.
He rolled up his eyes to heaven; smacked his hands together, and bringing them
by a sudden jerk to his breast, with a shrill whistle exclaimed,
"Mad! -- mad! -- the young fellow is as mad as a March hare --
Well, I'll tell you what, nephew of mine, you may go about on the river,
chopping the planters' boats at this rate, but I would not be in your coat,
my lad, for your jacket, though it was stiff with gold."

I asked him what he meant by that?

"Why, I mean," replied he, "that if you are not, all of you,
knocked on the head in three hours, it will be a wonder."

"Aye! what makes you think so, uncle," said I.

He answered: "You know my old waiting man, Tom, don't you?"

"To be sure I do," said I; "I have known Tom ever since I was a boy,
and should be confounded sorry to hear Tom prophesy any harm of me;
for I have always taken him to be a very true man of his word."

"Yes, I'll warrant him," said my uncle; "for though Tom is a negro,
and as black as old Nick, yet I would as soon take Tom's word
as that of any white man in Carolina. Well, Tom, you know,
has a wife at Mr. ----'s, as rank a tory as we have hereabouts.
On coming home this morning, he shook his head and said he was mighty 'fraid
you and Col. Marion were in a bad box; for, that he got it from
one of the black waiters in the house, who overheard the talk,
that there are THREE companies of tories now moulding their bullets,
and making ready to cut you off."

I looked at Marion and saw battle in his face.

My uncle was about to invite us to the house; but Marion interrupted him
by saying, "This is no time to think of visiting;" and turning
to his trumpeter, ordered him to wind his horn, which was instantly done.
Then placing himself at our head, he dashed off at a charging lope;
with equal speed we followed and soon lost sight of my uncle Horry.

On reaching the woods, Marion ordered the troop to halt and form;
when, with his usual modesty, he thus addressed us:

"Well, gentlemen, you see our situation! widely different
from what it once was. Yes, once we were a happy people!
Liberty shone upon our land, bright as the sun that gilds yon fields;
while we and our fathers rejoiced in its lovely beams, gay as the birds
that enliven our forests. But, alas! those golden days are gone,
and the cloud of war now hangs dark and lowering over our heads.
Our once peaceful land is now filled with uproar and death.
Foreign ruffians, braving us up to our very firesides and altars,
leave us no alternative but slavery or death. Two gallant armies
have been marched to our assistance; but, for lack of competent commanders,
both have been lost. That under general Lincoln, after having been
duped and butchered at Savannah, was at last completely trapped at Charleston.
And that under general Gates, after having been imprudently overmarched,
is now cut up at Camden. Thus are all our hopes from the north
entirely at an end; and poor Carolina is left to shift for herself.
A sad shift indeed, when not one in a thousand of her own children will rise
to take her part; but, on the contrary, are madly taking part with the enemy
against her. And now, my countrymen, I want to know your minds.
As to my own, that has long been made up. I consider my life as but a moment.
But I also consider, that to fill that moment with duty, is my all.
To guard my innocent country against the evils of slavery, seems now
my greatest duty; and, therefore, I am determined, that while I live,
she shall never be enslaved. She may come to that wretched state
for what I know, but MY eyes shall never behold it. Never shall she clank
her chains in my ears, and pointing to the ignominious badge, exclaim,
"IT WAS YOUR COWARDICE THAT BROUGHT ME TO THIS."

In answer to this, we unanimously assured him, that those sentiments
and resolutions were exactly our own: and that we were steadfastly determined
to die with him, or conquer for our country.

"Well then, my brave friends," said he, "draw your swords! Now for a circle,
emblematical of our eternal union! and pointing your blades to heaven,
the bright throne of Him who made us free, swear you will never be
slaves of Britain."

Which was all most devoutly done.

Soon as this patriotic rite was performed, we all dismounted,
and taking our seats on the trunks of two fallen pines
that lay conveniently parallel, we made our simple dinner of cold roots;
and for our beverage drank of the lucid stream that softly murmured by.

The reader will please to keep in mind, that our troops consisted of
but thirty mounted militia; chiefly gentlemen volunteers,
armed with muskets and swords, but almost without powder and ball.
How Marion came to be at the head of this little party,
it may be amusing to the reader to hear.

Some short time before this date, 1779-80, when the war began to rage
in South Carolina, a British captain by the name of Ardeisoff
came up to Georgetown in an armed vessel, and filled the country
with printed proclamations from lord Cornwallis, calling on
the GOOD PEOPLE of South Carolina to submit and take royal protections!!
Numbers of the ignorant and pusillanimous sort closed with the offer.
But the nobler ones of the district, (Williamsburgh,)
having no notion of selling their liberties for a `pig in a poke',
called a caucus of their own, from whom they selected captain John James,
and sent him down to master captain Ardeisoff, to know what he would be at.
This captain James, by birth an Irishman, had rendered himself
so popular in the district, that he was made a militia captain
under the royal government. But in '75, soon as he found that the ministry
were determined to tax the Americans, without allowing them
the common British right of representation, he bravely
threw up his commission, declaring that he would never serve a TYRANT.
Such was the gentleman chosen by the aforesaid liberty caucus,
to go on the embassy before mentioned. In the garb of a plain planter,
James presented himself before the haughty captain Ardeisoff,
and politely asked "on what terms himself and friends must submit?"

"What terms, sir!" replied the angry Briton, "what terms! why, no other terms,
you may be sure, than unconditional submission."

"Well but sir," answered James, very calmly, "are we not to be allowed
to stay at home in peace and quiet?"

"In peace and quiet, indeed!" replied Ardeisoff, with a sarcastic grin;
"a pretty story, truly! Stay at home in peace and quiet, heh? No, no, sir,
you have all rebelled against your king; and if treated as you deserve,
would now be dancing like dogs at the arms of the gallows.
But his majesty is merciful, sir; and now that he has graciously pardoned you,
he expects you will immediately take up arms and turn out
in support of his cause."

"You are very candid, sir," said James; "and now I hope
you will not be displeased with me for being equally plain.
Permit me, then, sir, to tell you that such terms will never go down
with the gentlemen whom I have the honor to represent."

"The gentlemen you have the honor to represent, you d--n-d rebel!"

Vesuvius! Aetna! and Strumbolo! what are your fires and flames,
compared with those that raged in the bosom of James,
when he heard himself called a d--n-d rebel!

Instantly springing up, with eyes of lightning, he snatched up his chair,
and, regardless of consequences, laid the audacious Ardeisoff sprawling
on the floor; then flying to his horse, he mounted and made his escape.
Learning from him, at his return, what they had to understand
by `British protections', his gallant constituents came at once
to the resolution to arm and fight till death, rather than hold life
on such ignominious terms. Immediately the whole force of the district,
about two hundred, able to bear arms, were mustered and placed under
captains William M`Coltery, John M`Cawley, Henry Mowizon, and our brave
captain James, who was appointed major and captain general of the whole.
Feeling that distrust in themselves which is common with raw troops,
and learning that the northern army was just entering South Carolina,
they despatched a messenger to general Gates, to request
that he would send them an officer who had seen service. Governor Rutledge,
who happened at that time to be in camp, advised general Gates
by all means to send Marion. Marion was accordingly sent;
but with orders, as we have seen, to destroy, on his route, all the boats
on the Santee river, lest lord Cornwallis should make his escape.
At the time of leaving general Gates, Marion had but ten men with him;
but on reaching Santee, we were joined by major John James,
with about twenty gallant gentlemen volunteers, making his whole force
about thirty.

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