Soon as they were come fairly opposite to us, we gave them a blast from our bugles, and with drawn sabres broke in upon them like a tornado.
Their panic was complete; two we stopped, overthrown and weltering in the road. The remaining three wheeled about, and taking to their heels, went off as if old Nick had been bringing up the rear. Then you might have heard the roar, and seen the dust, which dragoons can raise, when, with whip and spur and wildly rolling eyes, they bend forward from the pursuit of death. My charger being but a heavy brute, was soon distanced. But they could not distance the swift-footed Selim. Rapid as the deadly blast of the desert, he pursued their dusty course, still gathering upon them at every jump. And before they could reach the town, though so near, he brought his furious rider alongside of two of them, whom he cut down. One hundred yards further, and the third also would have been slain; for Macdonald, with his crimson claymore, was within a few steps of him, when the guns of the fort compelled him to retire. However, though quickly pursued by the enemy, he had the address to bring off an elegant horse of one of the dragoons whom he had killed.
The abomination and desolation set up in South Carolina — the author, with sorrowful heart, quits his native land, and flies to the north in quest of warlike friends — fortunate rencontre with his gallant friend colonel Marion — curious adventures.
After the capture of Charleston, with all our troops, the British, as aforesaid, began to spread themselves over the country. Then was exhibited a spectacle, which for sadness and alarm, ought never to be forgotten by the people of America. I mean how easy a thing it is for a small body of soldiers to overrun a populous and powerful country. The British did not, after Sir Henry Clinton's return to New York, exceed THREE THOUSAND MEN; and South Carolina alone, at the lowest computation, must have contained FIFTY THOUSAND! and yet this host of poor honest men were made to tremble before that handful of ruffians, as a flock of sheep before the wolf, or a household of little children before a dark frowning pedagogue. The reason is immensely plain. The British were all embodied and firm as a rock of granite; the Carolinians were scattered over the country loose as a rope of sand: the British all well armed and disciplined, moved in dreadful harmony, giving their fire like a volcano; the Carolinians, with no other than birding pieces, and strangers to the art of war, were comparatively feeble, as a forest of glow-worms: the British, though but units in number, were so artfully arranged that they told for myriads; while, for lack of unity, the Carolinians, though numerous as myriads, passed only for ciphers. In short, the British were a handful of hawks; the poor Carolinians a swarm of rice-birds, and rather than be plucked to the pin feather, or picked to the bone, they and their little ones, they were fain to flatter those furious falcons, and oft times to chirp and sing when they were much in the humor to hate and curse.
Oh! blind indeed, and doubly blind is that people, and well worthy of iron yokes, who, enjoying all the sweets of liberty, in a land of milk and honey, can expose to foreign Philistines, that blessed Canaan, unguarded by Military science. Surely those who thus throw "their pearl before swine", richly deserve that the beast should turn again and trample THEM, and their treasures too, into the mire. Yes, and had it not been for a better watch than our own, at this day, like the wretched Irish, we should have been trampled into the mire of slavery; groaning under heavy burdens to enrich our task-masters; and doomed on every fruitless attempt at freedom, to fatten the buzzards with our gibbeted carcasses.
For lack of this habitual military preparation on our part, in a few days after the fall of Charleston, Col. Tarleton, with only one hundred and fifty horse, galloped up to Georgetown, through the most populous part of the state, with as much hauteur as an overseer and his boys would gallop through a negro plantation! To me this was the signal for clearing out. Accordingly, though still in much pain from the rheumatism, I mounted my horse, and with sword and pistol by my side, set out for the northward, in quest of friendly powers to aid our fallen cause. In passing through Georgetown, I saw a distant group of people, to whom I rode up, and with great civility, as I thought, asked the news. To which a young fellow very scornfully replied, that "Colonel Tarleton was coming, and that the country, thank God, would soon be cleared of the continental colonels."
I was within an ace of drawing a pistol and shooting the young slave dead upon the spot. But God was pleased to give me patience to bear up under that heavy cross; for which I have since very heartily thanked him a thousand times and more. And indeed, on thinking over the matter, it has often struck me, that the man who could speak in that way to one who had on, as he saw, the American uniform, must be a savage, and therefore not an object of anger, but of pity. But though my anger was soon over, nothing could cure the melancholy into which this affair threw me. To see my native country thus prostrate under foreign usurpers, the generality quite disheartened, and the few, who dared to take her part, thus publicly insulted, was a shock I was not prepared for, and which, therefore, sunk my spirits to the lowest ebb of despondence. Such was the frame of mind wherein I left my native state, and set out, sick and alone, for the northward, with scarce a hope of ever seeing better days. About the middle of the second day, as I beat my solitary road, slowly winding through the silent, gloomy woods of North Carolina, I discovered, just before me, a stranger and his servant. Instantly my heart sprang afresh for the pleasures of society, and quickening my pace, I soon overtook the gentleman, when lo! who should it be but the man first of all in my wishes, though the last in my expectations; who, I say, should it be but Marion! Our mutual surprise was great. "Good heavens!" we both exclaimed in the same moment, "Is that colonel Marion?" "Is that Horry?" After the first transports of that joy, which those who have been long absent from dear friends, can better conceive than I describe, we began to inquire into each other's destinations, which was found to be the same; both flying to the north for troops to fight the British. We had not rode far when Marion, after looking up to the sun, who was now past his half-way house, came suddenly to a halt, and said, "Well, come Horry, I feel both peckish and weary, and here is a fine shade, so let us go down and rest, and refresh ourselves a while."
Whereupon I dismounted; and with the help of his servant, for his ankle was yet very crazy, got him down too. Then, sitting side by side, on the trunk of a fallen pine, we talked over the mournful state of our country; and came at last, as we had always done, to this solemn conclusion, that we would stand by her like true children, and either conquer or die with her.
After this, a piece of dried beef was paraded, from Marion's saddle-bags, with a loaf of Indian bread and a bottle of brandy. The wealthy reader may smile at this bill of fare; but to me it was a feast indeed. For joy, like a cordial, had so raised my spirits, and reinvigorated my system, that I fed like a thresher.
I shall never forget an expression which Marion let fall during our repast, and which, as things have turned out, clearly shows what an intimate acquaintance he had with human nature. I happened to say that I was afraid "our happy days were all gone."
"Pshaw, Horry," he replied, "don't give way to such idle fears. Our happy days are not all gone. On the contrary, the victory is still sure. The enemy, it is true, have all the trumps in their hands, and if they had but the spirit to play a generous game, would certainly ruin us. But they have no idea of that game; but will treat the people cruelly. And that one thing will ruin them, and save America."
"I pray God," said I, "it may be so."
"Well, don't be afraid," replied he, "you will assuredly see it."
Having despatched our simple dinner, we mounted again and pursued our journey, but with feelings so different from what I had before this meeting, as made me more sensible than ever what a divine thing friendship is. And well indeed it was for us that our hearts were so rich in friendship, for our pockets were as bare of gold and silver as if there were no such metals on earth. And but for carrying a knife, or a horse-fleam, or a gun-flint, we had no more use for a pocket than a Highlander has for a knee-buckle. As to hard money, we had not seen a dollar for years; and of old continental, bad as it was, we had received but little, and that little was gone away like a flash; as the reader may well suppose, when he comes to learn, that a bottle of rum would sweep fifty dollars.
And so here were two continental colonels of us, just started on a journey of several hundred miles, without a cent in pocket! But though poor in gold, we were rich in faith. Burning patriots ourselves, we had counted on it as a certainty, that every body we met, out of reach of the British, were as fiery as we, and that the first sight of our uniforms would command smiling countenances, and hot suppers, and downy beds, and mint slings; and in short, everything that our hearts could wish. But, alas and alack the mistake! For instead of being smiled on every where along the road as the champions of liberty, we were often grinned at as if we had been horse thieves. In place of being hailed with benedictions, we were frequently in danger from the brick bats; and in lieu of hot dinners and suppers, we were actually on the point of starving, both we and our horses! For in consequence of candidly telling the publicans that, "we had nothing to pay," they as candidly declared, "they had nothing to give," and that "those that had no money had no business to travel." At length we came to the resolution to say nothing about our poverty, but, after getting such things as we wanted, to give our `due bills'. In this we felt ourselves perfectly warranted; for we had, both of us, thank God, very sufficient estates; and besides, turning out, as we did, to fight for our country, we thought we had, even by sacred precept, a very fair claim on that country for a little food.
I remember, one evening, after dark, we reached a tavern, the owner of which at first seemed very fond of accommodating us. But as soon as a lighted wood torch had given him a glimpse of our regimentals, the rogue began to hem and ha, to tell us of a `mighty fine tavern' about five miles further on.
We begged him to recollect that it was night, and also very rainy, and as dark as pitch.
"Oh!" quoth he, "the road is mighty plain; you can't miss your way."
"But consider, sir, we are strangers."
"Oh! I never liked strangers in all my life."
"But, sir, we are your countrymen, American officers, going to the north for men to fight your battles."
"Oh! I wants nobody to fight my battles; king George is good enough for me."
"But, sir, we have travelled all day long without a mouthful for ourselves or horses."
To this also the brute was preparing some fit answer, when his wife, who appeared to be a very genteel woman, with a couple of charming girls, her daughters, ran out and declared that "take us in he could, and should, that he should; and that he might as well consent at first, for they would not be said nay."
Even against all this, he stood out for some time; till at length his wife reminded him, that though the British were carrying every thing before them in South Carolina, yet that Washington was still in the field, and the issue of the war unknown; and that at any rate it was good to have a friend at court.
On this he came to a pause; and at length reluctantly drawled out,"Well — I suppose — you must — come — in."
I have related this story, partly to show what a savage man would be without that softening, polishing friend, a good wife.
Observing that we were wet and cold, this amiable woman and her daughters soon had kindled up for us a fine sparkling fire, to which their own sweetly smiling looks gave tenfold cheerfulness and comfort. And while the husband went poking about the house, silent and surly as an ill-natured slave, the ladies displayed towards us the most endearing attentions. The mother brought out from her closet a bottle of nice family cordial, to warm and cheer us; while the girls presented basins of water and towels, that we might wash and refresh ourselves after our fatigue. And all these seasonable hospitalities they did, not with that ungracious silence and reserve, which so often depress the traveller's spirits, but with the charming alacrity of daughters or sisters, so sweetening every thing with smiles and sprightly chat as almost made us feel ourselves at home.
As with deep struck thought, I compared our present happy condition with that a few minutes before, benighted, wet and weary, I could not help exclaiming, "O my God! what pity it is that among so many labors which poor mortals take under the sun, they do not labor more for that which alone deserves their care. I mean that LOVE, which at once diffuses and enjoys all the happiness both of earth and heaven."
At supper, the poor creature of a husband strove very hard to draw Marion into a dispute, about what he was pleased to call our "REBELLION". I expected to have heard him lashed very severely for such brutality; for few men ever excelled Marion in the `retort abrupt'. But every time the subject was introduced, he contrived very handsomely to waive it, by some pretty turn to the ladies, which happily relieved their terrors, and gave a fresh spring to general and sprightly conversation.
As our excellent hostess and her fair daughters were about to retire, we bade them good night, and also adieu, telling them that we meant to ride very early in the morning. To this they stoutly objected, urging that, from our fatigue and fasting, we ought to pass a day or two with them, and refresh ourselves. But if we could not do this, we must at any rate stay and give them the pleasure of our company at breakfast.
When we retired to our chamber, I asked Marion why he had not given that brute, our landlord, a proper set down.
"I am surprised at you, Horry," he replied; "when you see that your fellow man is wretched, can't you give him quarter? You must have observed, ever since we darkened his door, that with spleen and toryism, this poor gentleman is in the condition of him in the parable, who was possessed of seven devils. Since we have not the power to cast them out, let us not torment him before his time. Besides, this excellent woman his wife; these charming girls his daughters. They love him, no doubt, and therefore, to us, at least, he ought to be sacred, because surrounded by their affections."
The next morning while breakfast was preparing, the churl renewed his hostilities, by telling us, with a malignant pleasure in his face, that he and his neighbors were making ready to go to South Carolina for negroes.
"For negroes!" replied Marion; "pray sir, what do you mean by that?"
"Why, sir," returned he, "South Carolina is now all one as conquered by the British, and why may we not go and pick up what negroes we can? They would help me in my corn-field yonder."
Marion asked him whether, if he were to find HIS negroes, he would think it right to take them?
"To be sure I would," answered he. "You great men who choose to fight against your king, are all now running away. And why may I not go and catch your negroes as well as any body else?"
"My God!" replied Marion, with a deep sigh, "what will this world come to?" and turned the conversation.
Soon as breakfast was over, we took leave of this most unequally yoked couple and their lovely daughters, and continued our journey. We had not got far from the house when Marion's servant rode up, and, with a very smirking face, told his master that he believed the gentlewoman where we stayed last night must be a monstrous fine lady! Marion asked him why he thought so. "Why, sir," replied he, "she not only made me almost burst myself with eating and drinking, and all of the very best, but she has gone and filled my portmanteau too, filled it up chock full, sir! A fine ham of bacon, sir, and a pair of roasted fowls, with two bottles of brandy, and a matter of a peck of biscuit."
"God bless the dear lady!" we both exclaimed at the same moment. And I trust God did bless her. For indeed to us she was a kind angel, who not only refreshed our bodies, but still more, feasted our souls.
And though eight and twenty long years have rolled away since that time, I can still see that angel smile which brightened on her face towards us, and the memory of which springs a joy in my heart beyond what the memory of his money bags ever gave to the miser.
On the evening of the same day that we left this charming family, (I mean the FAIRER PART of it) we reached the house of colonel Thatcher, one of the noblest whigs in North Carolina. His eyes seemed as though they would never tire in gazing on our regimentals. We soon gave him the history of our travels through his native state, and of the very uncivil manner in which his countrymen had treated us. He smiled, and bid us be thankful, for that it was entirely of God's mercy that we had come off so well. "Those people," continued he, "are mere Hottentots; a set of unenlightened miserable tories, who know nothing of the grounds of the war; nothing of the rights and blessings we are contending for; nor of the corruptions and cruelties of the British ministry; and are therefore just as ready to fall into their destructive jaws, as young cat-birds are to run into the mouth of a rattle-snake."
Glorious news — a brave army of continentals coming up — Marion and the author hasten to meet them at Roanoke — fortunately get introduced to the baron de Kalb — polite reception by that amiable officer — curious and interesting conversation.
After spending two days of very welcome repose with the elegant colonel Thatcher, we took leave and set out for Hillsborough, where we met general Huger and colonel W. White, of the horse, who told us the glorious news, that "Washington had sent on a gallant detachment of continentals, who were now in full march to aid South Carolina."
Our hearts leaped for joy at the news. So great was our impatience to see what our hearts had so long and so fondly dwelt on, an army of friends, that we could not wait until they came up, but hurried off instantly to meet them at Roanoke, where it was said they were crossing. On reaching the river, we found that they had all got over, and had just formed their line of march. Oh! how lovely is the sight of friends in the day of our danger! We have had many military corps, but none had ever interested us like this. In shining regimentals and glittering arms, they moved before the eye of the glowing fancy like a host of heroes.
Thrice happy for man, that a veil, dark as the grave, is thrown over future events! For how could we, who had seen one fine army butchered at Savannah, and another captured at Charleston, have borne up under the dreadful prospect of having this gallant armament also destroyed in a few days!
Soon as our first paroxysm of joy had a little subsided, we moved toward head quarters, where we had the good fortune to fall in with our old friend Col. Semp, who appeared overjoyed to see us, and immediately offered to introduce us to the general. His excellency Horatio Gates was the commander in chief, but as he had not yet arrived, the command rested on that brave old German general, the baron de Kalb.
It was to this officer that colonel Semp introduced us, and, as was usual with him, in very flattering terms; styling us "continental colonels, and two of the wealthiest and most distinguished patriots of South Carolina!"
I shall never forget what I felt when introduced to this gentleman. He appeared to be rather elderly. But though the snow of winter was on his locks, his cheeks were still reddened over with the bloom of spring. His person was large and manly, above the common size, with great nerve and activity; while his fine blue eyes expressed the mild radiance of intelligence and goodness.
He received us very politely, saying he was glad to see us, "especially as we were the first Carolinians that he had seen; which had not a little surprised him."
Observing, I suppose, that we labored under rather too much of our national weakness, I mean modesty, he kindly redoubled his attentions to us, and soon succeeded in curing us of our reserve.
"I thought," said he, "that British tyranny would have sent great numbers of the South Carolinians to join our arms. But, so far from it, they are all, as we have been told, running to take British protections. Surely they are not tired already of fighting for liberty."
We told him the reason was very plain to us, who were inhabitants of that country, and knew very well the state of things there.
"Aye," replied he, "well, what can the reason be?"
"Why, sir," answered Marion, "the people of Carolina form but two classes, the rich and the poor. The poor are generally very poor, because, not being necessary to the rich, who have slaves to do all their work, they get no employment from them. Being thus unsupported by the rich, they continue poor and low spirited. They seldom get money; and indeed, what little they do get, is laid out in brandy to raise their spirits, and not on books and newspapers to get information. Hence they know nothing of the comparative blessings of their own country, nor of the great dangers which threaten it, and therefore care nothing about it. As to the other class, the rich, they are generally very rich, and consequently afraid to stir, unless a fair chance offer, lest the British should burn their houses and furniture, and carry off their negroes and stock. But permit me to assure you, sir, that though thus kept under by fear, they still mortally hate the British, and will, I am confident, the moment they see an army of friends at their door, fly to their standard, like a generous pack to the sound of the horn that calls them to the chase of a hated wolf."
The baron de Kalb smiled, and said he hoped it would be found so.
"No doubt of it at all sir," replied Marion.
The baron then invited us to dine with him, but added, smiling, that he hoped we had good military stomachs that could relish and digest plain fare, which was all he could promise us, and perhaps hardly enough of that.
On sitting down to table, we found that his prediction about the bill of fare, was most unwelcomely true. Our dinner was just half a side of a miserably poor hog, as miserably cooked; and in such small quantity, that before we were done there was nothing of it left but a rasher, for good manners' sake. And as to bread, there was not even a hoe-cake! It is true, that, by way of substitute, we had a trencher or two of sweet potatoes paraded. Our drink was admirably suited to the dinner; apple brandy with river water.
God forbid that I should be unmindful of his favors! For well do I know that the least of them is much better than the best of us deserve. On the contrary, I mention it rather as a compliment to his heavenly bounty, which is wont to spread our tables with so many dainties, as to cause even roast pigs and sweet potatoes to pass for a sorry meal.
Soon as dinner was over, all of us who could parade a cigar or a pipe, began to comfort our olfactories with a puff, not forgetting our brandy the while, so that by the time we had got well entrenched in clouds of fragrant kite-foot, we were in admirable cue for a dish of chat. De Kalb led the way; and, as nearly as I can recollect, in the following words.
"Colonel Marion," said he, pressing the tobacco in his pipe at the same time, "can you answer me ONE question?"
"Most gladly, general, and a THOUSAND if I can!"
"Thank you, colonel, but ONE will do."
"Be pleased then, sir, to say on."
"Well, colonel, can you tell me how old I am?"
"That's a tough question, general."
"TOUGH, colonel! pray how do you make that out?"
"Why, sir, there is a strange January and May sort of contrast between your locks and your looks that quite confuses me. By your locks you seem to be in the winter, by your looks in the summer of your days."
"Well but, colonel, striking the balance between the two, whereabouts do you take me to be?"
"Why, sir, in the spring and prime of life; about forty."
"Good heavens, forty!"
"Yes, sir, that's the mark; there or thereabouts."
"What! no more?"
"No, sir, not a day more; not an hour."
"Upon honor?"
"Yes, sir, upon honor; upon a soldier's honor."
"Ha! — ha! — ha! — Well, colonel, I would not for a thousand guineas that your riflemen shot as wide off the mark as you guess. The British would not dread them as they do. Forty years old, indeed! why what will you say, colonel, when I tell you that I have been two and forty years a soldier."
Here we all exclaimed, "Impossible, general! impossible."
"I ask your pardon, gentlemen," replied he, "it is not at all impossible, but very certain. Very certain that I have been two and forty years a soldier in the service of the king of France!"
"O wonderful! two and forty years! Well then, at that rate, and pray how old, general, may you take yourself to be?"
"Why, gentlemen," replied he, "man and boy, I am now about sixty-three."
"Good heaven! sixty-three! and yet such bloom, such flesh and blood!"
"If you are so surprised, gentlemen, at my looks at sixty-three, what would you have thought had you seen my father at eighty-seven."
"Your father, general! he cannot be alive yet, sure."
"Alive! yes, thank God, and alive like to be, I hope, for many a good year to come yet. Now, gentlemen, let me tell you a little story of my father. The very Christmas before I sailed for America, I went to see him. It was three hundred miles, at least, from Paris. On arriving at the house I found my dear old mother at her wheel, in her eighty-third year, mind gentlemen!! spinning very gaily, while one of her great-granddaughters carded the wool and sung a hymn for her. Soon as the first transport of meeting was over, I eagerly asked for my father. `Do not be uneasy, my son,' said she, `your father is only gone to the woods with his three little great-grandchildren, to cut some fuel for the fire, and they will all be here presently, I'll be bound!' And so it proved; for in a very short time I heard them coming along. My father was the foremost, with his axe under his arm, and a stout billet on his shoulder; and the children, each with his little load, staggering along, and prattling to my father with all their might. Be assured, gentlemen, that this was a most delicious moment to me. Thus after a long absence, to meet a beloved father, not only alive, but in health and dear domestic happiness above the lot of kings: also to see the two extremes of human life, youth and age, thus sweetly meeting and mingling in that cordial love, which turns the cottage into a paradise."
In telling this little story of his aged father and his young relatives, the general's fine countenance caught an animation which perfectly charmed us all.
The eyes of Marion sparkled with pleasure. "General," said he, "the picture which you have given us of your father, and his little great-grandchildren, though short, is extremely interesting and delightful. It confirms me in an opinion which I have long entertained, which is, that there is more happiness in low life than in high life; in a cottage than in a castle. Pray give us, general, your opinion of that matter."
"Why," replied De Kalb, "this opinion of yours, colonel, is not a novel one by any means. It was the opinion of Rousseau, Fenelon, and of many other great men, and elegant writers. But notwithstanding such high authority, I must still beg leave to be a dissenter. I have seen so many people happy and also unhappy, both in cottages and castles, that I cannot but conclude, that happiness does not belong, peculiarly, to either condition, but depends on something very different from, and infinitely superior to both."
We eagerly asked what he alluded to.
"Why, gentlemen," replied he, "since you have been so polite as to ask my opinion, I will as frankly give it, though I am afraid it will seem very odd, especially coming from a soldier. However, be that as it may, my opinion you have asked, and my opinion you shall have; which is, that religion is the only thing to make a man happy in cottages or courts."
The young officers began to stare.
Gathering from their looks, that some of the company did not relish this kind of philosophy, he quickly thus resumed his speech.
"Pardon! gentlemen, I beg pardon! I must not be misunderstood. By `religion', I don't mean `priest-craft'. I don't mean that superstitious grimace; that rolling up of white eyes, and spreading of sanctified palms; with `disfigured faces and long prayers,' and all the rest of that holy trumpery, which, so far from making people cheerful, tends but to throw them into the dumps. But I mean, by `religion', that divine effort of the soul, which rises and embraces the great author of its being with filial ardor, and walks and converses with him, as a dutiful child with his revered father. Now gentlemen, I would ask, all prejudice apart, what is there can so exalt the mind and gladden the heart, as this high friendship with heaven, and those immortal hopes that spring from religion?"
Here one of the company, half blushing, as palpably convicted by the truth of the general's argument smartly called out — "Well but, general, don't you think we can do pretty well here in camp, without religion?"
"What!" replied De Kalb, "would you give it all up to the priests?"
"Yes, to be sure I would," said the young officer, "for I am for every man's following his own trade, general. They are priests, and we are soldiers. So let them do all the praying, and we will do all the fighting."
"Why, as to the fighting part," rejoined De Kalb, "I have no objection to doing all that for the priests, especially as their profession does not allow them to fight for themselves. But as to giving them up all the devotion, I confess I am not so liberal. No! no! gentlemen, charity begins at home; and I am not for parting with pleasure so easily."
"PLEASURE!" replied the young officer with a sneer.
"Yes, sir, PLEASURE," returned De Kalb. "According to my creed, sir, piety and pleasure are synonymous terms; and I should just as soon think of living physically, without bread, as of living pleasantly, without religion. For what is religion, as I said before, but HABITUAL FRIENDSHIP WITH GOD? And what can the heart conceive so delightful? Or what can so gratify it in all its best and strongest desires. For example, gentlemen, we are all fond of honor. I, for my part, am fond of the friendship of the king of France. You glory in the friendship of the great Washington. Then what must be the glory of him who is in friendship with God? Again, gentlemen, we are all born to love, to admire, to adore. If a man have no love, he is gloomy. If he love a worthless object, he is mortified. But if he love a truly worthy object, his face shines, his eyes sparkle, his voice becomes sweet, and his whole air expressive of cheerfulness. And as this happy feeling must, in the nature of things, keep pace with the excellence of the object that is beloved, then what must be the cheerfulness of him who loves the greatest, best, and loveliest of all beings, whose eternal perfections and goodness can for ever make him happier than heart can ask or think?
"In a word, gentlemen, though I am a soldier, and soldiers you know are seldom enthusiasts in this way, yet I verily believe, as I said before, that a man of enlightened and fervent piety must be infinitely happier in a cottage, than an irreligious emperor in his palace."
In the height of this extraordinary conversation, an officer stepped in and announced the arrival of general Gates.
And here, as I have in this chapter given the reader what the jockies call a `pretty long heat', I beg leave to order a halt and allow him a little time to breathe.
Gen. Gates — bon mot of British general Lee — how an army ought not to march — De Kalb prophecies — chickens counted before they are hatched, alias, Marion and the author sent by Gen. Gates to prevent the escape of Cornwallis, before he had run — the British and American armies meet — Gates and his militia-men leave De Kalb in the lurch — his gallant behavior, and glorious death.
When a poor fellow is going down hill, it is but too common, they say, for every body to give him a kick.
"Let dogs delight to bark and bite,For heaven hath made them so."
But, if I know myself aright, I can truly say, that nothing of this vile spirit suggests a syllable of what I now write of the unfortunate general Gates. On the contrary, I feel an ardent wish to speak handsomely of him; and in one view of him I can so speak. As a gentleman, few camps or courts ever produced his superior. But though a perfect Chesterfield at court, in camp he was certainly but a Paris. 'Tis true, at Saratoga he got his temples stuck round with laurels as thick as a May-day queen with gaudy flowers. And though the greater part of this was certainly the gallant workmanship of Arnold and Morgan, yet did it so hoist general Gates in the opinion of the nation, that many of his dear friends, with a prudent regard, no doubt, to their own dearer selves, had the courage to bring him forward on the military turf and run him for the generalissimoship against the great Washington. But though they were not able to prosper him in this mad attempt, yet they so far succeeded as to get him the command of the army of Carolina, where his short and calamitous career soon caused every good patriot to thank God for continuing to his servant Washington, the command of the American armies.
On his way from the northern states, general Gates passed through Fredericksburg, where he fell in with general Charles Lee, who, in his frank manner, asked him where he was going.
"Why, to take Cornwallis."
"I am afraid," quoth Lee, "you will find him a tough piece of English beef."
"Tough, sir," replied Gates; "tough! then begad I'll tender him.I'll make `piloo' of him, sir, in three hours after I set eyes upon him."
"Aye! will you indeed?" returned Lee. "Well then send for me, and I will go and help you to eat him."
Gates smiled; and bidding him adieu, rode off. Lee bawled after him, "Take care, Gates! take care! or your northern laurels will degenerate into southern willows."
The truth is, though general Lee was extremely splenetic, other than which, such a miserable old bachelor and infidel could hardly be, yet he certainly had a knack of telling people's fortunes. By virtue of this faculty he presently discovered that general Gates was no Fabius; but on the contrary, too much inclined to the fatal rashness of his unfortunate colleague.
And so it turned out. For, from the moment he joined the army, he appeared to act like one who thought of nothing but to have it proclaimed of him in all the newspapers on the continent, that in so many days, hours, minutes, and seconds, he flew from Philadelphia to South Carolina, `saw, fought, and conquered' Cornwallis; and flew back again with the trophies of a second British army vanquished. Instead of moving on as old De Kalb had done, with a prudent regard to the health and refreshment of the troops, he, Jehu like, drove them on without regard to either. He would not take the lower road, as De Kalb earnestly advised, through a rich and plentiful country. Oh no; that was too round about; would too long have delayed his promised glory.
Like an eagle shaking his bold pinions in the clouds of his pride, he must dash down at once upon his prey; and so, for a near cut, take us through a pine barren, sufficient to have starved a forlorn hope of caterpillars. I shall make no attempt to describe the sufferings of the army. For, admitting that I should not lack words, my reader would, I am sure, lack faith. Indeed, at this season, when the old crop was gone and the new not quite come in, what had we to expect, especially in such a miserable country, where many a family goes without dinner, unless the father can knock down a squirrel in the woods, or his pale sickly boy pick up a terrapin in the swamps? We did, indeed, sometimes fall in with a little corn; but then, the poor, skinny, sun-burnt women, with long uncombed tresses, and shrivelled breasts hanging down, would run screaming to us, with tears in their eyes, declaring that if we took away their corn, they and their children must perish. Such times I never saw, and I pray God, I may never see nor hear of again; for, to this day, the bare thought of it depresses my spirits. But perhaps I ought to think of it, and often too, that I may be the more thankful to him who never, but in that one instance, permitted me to suffer, except in thinking of it.
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 whichI 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.
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.
A slender force, to be sure, to oppose to the tremendous powers which Marion had to encounter! But, "the Lord is king, the victory is his!" and when he pleases to give it to an oppressed people, he can make the few and feeble overcome the many and mighty.
As the brave major James may perhaps be mentioned no more in this history, I must gratify the reader by informing him, that the noble major lost nothing by his attachment to duty and the rights of man. He lived to see Cornwallis, Tarleton, and Rawdon, laid as low as the insolent Ardeisoff; and after enjoying many years of sweet repose, under the pleasant shade of peace and plenty, he sunk gently to rest. But though now fallen asleep, he still lives in his country's gratitude, and in the virtues of his son, who fills one of the highest places in the judiciary of his native state.