After 1778 there was no more decisive fighting in the North. The British
plan was to hold New York and keep there a threatening force, but to
make the South henceforth the central arena of the war. Accordingly,
in 1779, they evacuated Rhode Island and left the magnificent harbor of
Newport to be the chief base for the French fleet and army in America.
They also drew in their posts on the Hudson and left Washington free to
strengthen West Point and other defenses by which he was blocking the
river. Meanwhile they were striking staggering blows in the South. On
December 29, 1778, a British force landed two miles below Savannah, in
Georgia, lying near the mouth of the important Savannah River, and by
nightfall, after some sharp fighting, took the place with its stores
and shipping. Augusta, the capital of Georgia, lay about a hundred
and twenty-five miles up the river. By the end of February, 1779, the
British not only held Augusta but had established so strong a line of
posts in the interior that Georgia seemed to be entirely under their
control.
Then followed a singular chain of events. Ever since hostilities had
begun, in 1775, the revolutionary party had been dominant in the South.
Yet now again in 1779 the British flag floated over the capital of
Georgia. Some rejoiced and some mourned. Men do not change lightly
their political allegiance. Probably Boston was the most completely
revolutionary of American towns. Yet even in Boston there had been a sad
procession of exiles who would not turn against the King. The South
had been more evenly divided. Now the Loyalists took heart and began to
assert themselves.
When the British seemed secure in Georgia bands of Loyalists marched
into the British camp in furious joy that now their day was come, and
gave no gentle advice as to the crushing of rebellion. Many a patriot
farmhouse was now destroyed and the hapless owner either killed or
driven to the mountains to live as best he could by hunting. Sometimes
even the children were shot down. It so happened that a company of
militia captured a large band of Loyalists marching to Augusta to
support the British cause. Here was the occasion for the republican
patriots to assert their principles. To them these Loyalists were guilty
of treason. Accordingly seventy of the prisoners were tried before a
civil court and five of them were hanged. For this hanging of prisoners
the Loyalists, of course, retaliated in kind. Both the British and
American regular officers tried to restrain these fierce passions but
the spirit of the war in the South was ruthless. To this day many a tale
of horror is repeated and, since Loyalist opinion was finally destroyed,
no one survived to apportion blame to their enemies. It is probable that
each side matched the other in barbarity.
The British hoped to sweep rapidly through the South, to master it up
to the borders of Virginia, and then to conquer that breeding ground of
revolution. In the spring of 1779 General Prevost marched from Georgia
into South Carolina. On the 12th of May he was before Charleston
demanding surrender. We are astonished now to read that, in response
to Prevost's demand, a proposal was made that South Carolina should be
allowed to remain neutral and that at the end of the war it should join
the victorious side. This certainly indicates a large body of opinion
which was not irreconcilable with Great Britain and seems to justify the
hope of the British that the beginnings of military success might
rally the mass of the people to their side. For the moment, however,
Charleston did not surrender. The resistance was so stiff that Prevost
had to raise the siege and go back to Savannah.
Suddenly, early in September, 1779, the French fleet under d'Estaing
appeared before Savannah. It had come from the West Indies, partly to
avoid the dreaded hurricane season of the autumn in those waters. The
British, practically without any naval defense, were confronted at
once by twenty-two French ships of the line, eleven frigates, and many
transports carrying an army. The great flotilla easily got rid of the
few British ships lying at Savannah. An American army, under General
Lincoln, marched to join d'Estaing. The French landed some three
thousand men, and the combined army numbered about six thousand. A siege
began which, it seemed, could end in only one way. Prevost, however,
with three thousand seven hundred men, nearly half of them sick, was
defiant, and on the 9th of October the combined French and American
armies made a great assault. They met with disaster. D'Estaing was
severely wounded. With losses of some nine hundred killed and wounded in
the bitter fighting the assailants drew off and soon raised the siege.
The British losses were only fifty-four. In the previous year French
and Americans fighting together had utterly failed. Now they had failed
again and there was bitter recrimination between the defeated allies.
D'Estaing sailed away and soon lost some of his ships in a violent
storm. Ill-fortune pursued him to the end. He served no more in the
war and in the Reign of Terror in Paris, in 1794, he perished on the
scaffold.
At Charleston the American General Lincoln was in command with about six
thousand men. The place, named after King Charles II, had been a center
of British influence before the war. That critical traveler, Lord
Adam Gordon, thought its people clever in business, courteous, and
hospitable. Most of them, he says, made a visit to England at some time
during life and it was the fashion to send there the children to be
educated. Obviously Charleston was fitted to be a British rallying
center in the South; yet it had remained in American hands since the
opening of the war. In 1776 Sir Henry Clinton, the British Commander,
had woefully failed in his assault on Charleston. Now in December, 1779,
he sailed from New York to make a renewed effort. With him were three
of his best officer--Cornwallis, Simcoe, and Tarleton, the last two
skillful leaders of irregulars, recruited in America and used chiefly
for raids. The wintry voyage was rough; one of the vessels laden with
cannon foundered and sank, and all the horses died. But Clinton reached
Charleston and was able to surround it on the landward side with an army
at least ten thousand strong. Tarleton's irregulars rode through
the country. It is on record that he marched sixty-four miles in
twenty-three hours and a hundred and five miles in fifty-four hours.
Such mobility was irresistible. On the 12th of April, after a ride
of thirty miles, Tarleton surprised, in the night, three regiments of
American cavalry regulars at a place called Biggin's Bridge, routed them
completely and, according to his own account, with the loss of three men
wounded, carried off a hundred prisoners, four hundred horses, and
also stores and ammunition. There is no doubt that Tarleton's dragoons
behaved with great brutality and it would perhaps have taught a
needed lesson if, as was indeed threatened by a British officer, Major
Ferguson, a few of them had been shot on the spot for these outrages.
Tarleton's dashing attacks isolated Charleston and there was nothing for
Lincoln to do but to surrender. This he did on the 12th of May. Burgoyne
seemed to have been avenged. The most important city in the South had
fallen. "We look on America as at our feet," wrote Horace Walpole. The
British advanced boldly into the interior. On the 29th of May Tarleton
attacked an American force under Colonel Buford, killed over a hundred
men, carried off two hundred prisoners, and had only twenty-one
casualties. It is such scenes that reveal the true character of the war
in the South. Above all it was a war of hard riding, often in the night,
of sudden attack, and terrible bloodshed.
After the fall of Charleston only a few American irregulars were to be
found in South Carolina. It and Georgia seemed safe in British control.
With British successes came the problem of governing the South. On the
royalist theory, the recovered land had been in a state of rebellion and
was now restored to its true allegiance. Every one who had taken up
arms against the King was guilty of treason with death as the penalty.
Clinton had no intention of applying this hard theory, but he was
returning to New York and he had to establish a government on some legal
basis. During the first years of the war, Loyalists who would not accept
the new order had been punished with great severity. Their day had now
come. Clinton said that "every good man" must be ready to join in arms
the King's troops in order "to reestablish peace and good government."
"Wicked and desperate men" who still opposed the King should be punished
with rigor and have their property confiscated. He offered pardon for
past offenses, except to those who had taken part in killing Loyalists
"under the mock forms of justice." No one was henceforth to be exempted
from the active duty of supporting the King's authority.
Clinton's proclamation was very disturbing to the large element in South
Carolina which did not desire to fight on either side. Every one must
now be for or against the King, and many were in their secret hearts
resolved to be against him. There followed an orgy of bloodshed which
discredits human nature. The patriots fled to the mountains rather than
yield and, in their turn, waylaid and murdered straggling Loyalists.
Under pressure some republicans would give outward compliance to royal
government, but they could not be coerced into a real loyalty. It
required only a reverse to the King's forces to make them again actively
hostile. To meet the difficult situation Congress now made a disastrous
blunder. On June 13, 1780, General Gates, the belauded victor at
Saratoga, was given the command in the South.
Camden, on the Wateree River, lies inland from Charleston about a
hundred and twenty-five miles as the crow flies. The British had
occupied it soon after the fall of Charleston, and it was now held by
a small force under Lord Rawdon, one of the ablest of the British
commanders. Gates had superior numbers and could probably have taken
Camden by a rapid movement; but the man had no real stomach for
fighting. He delayed until, on the 14th of August, Cornwallis arrived
at Camden with reinforcements and with the fixed resolve to attack Gates
before Gates attacked him. On the early morning of the 16th of August,
Cornwallis with two thousand men marching northward between swamps on
both flanks, met Gates with three thousand marching southward, each of
them intending to surprise the other. A fierce struggle followed. Gates
was completely routed with a thousand casualties, a thousand prisoners,
and the loss of nearly the whole of his guns and transport. The fleeing
army was pursued for twenty miles by the relentless Tarleton. General
Kalb, who had done much to organize the American army, was killed. The
enemies of Gates jeered at his riding away with the fugitives and hardly
drawing rein until after four days he was at Hillsborough, two hundred
miles away. His defense was that he "proceeded with all possible
despatch," which he certainly did, to the nearest point where he could
reorganize his forces. His career was, however, ended. He was deprived
of his command, and Washington appointed to succeed him General
Nathanael Greene.
In spite of the headlong flight of Gates the disaster at Camden had only
a transient effect. The war developed a number of irregular leaders on
the American side who were never beaten beyond recovery, no matter what
might be the reverses of the day. The two most famous are Francis Marion
and Thomas Sumter. Marion, descended from a family of Huguenot exiles,
was slight in frame and courteous in manner; Sumter, tall, powerful, and
rough, was the vigorous frontiersman in type. Threatened men live
long: Sumter died in 1832, at the age of ninety-six, the last surviving
general of the Revolution. Both men had had prolonged experience in
frontier fighting against the Indians. Tarleton called Marion the "old
swamp fox" because he often escaped through using by-paths across the
great swamps of the country. British communications were always in
danger. A small British force might find itself in the midst of a host
which had suddenly come together as an army, only to dissolve next day
into its elements of hardy farmers, woodsmen, and mountaineers.
After the victory at Camden Cornwallis advanced into North Carolina, and
sent Major Ferguson, one of his most trusted officers, with a force
of about a thousand men, into the mountainous country lying westward,
chiefly to secure Loyalist recruits. If attacked in force Ferguson
was to retreat and rejoin his leader. The Battle of King's Mountain is
hardly famous in the annals of the world, and yet, in some ways, it
was a decisive event. Suddenly Ferguson found himself beset by hostile
bands, coming from the north, the south, the east, and the west.
When, in obedience to his orders, he tried to retreat he found the way
blocked, and his messages were intercepted, so that Cornwallis was not
aware of the peril. Ferguson, harassed, outnumbered, at last took refuge
on King's Mountain, a stony ridge on the western border between the two
Carolinas. The north side of the mountain was a sheer impassable cliff
and, since the ridge was only half a mile long, Ferguson thought that
his force could hold it securely. He was, however, fighting an enemy
deadly with the rifle and accustomed to fire from cover. The sides and
top of King's Mountain were wooded and strewn with boulders. The motley
assailants crept up to the crest while pouring a deadly fire on any of
the defenders who exposed themselves. Ferguson was killed and in the end
his force surrendered, on October 7, 1780, with four hundred casualties
and the loss of more than seven hundred prisoners. The American
casualties were eighty-eight. In reprisal for earlier acts on the other
side, the victors insulted the dead body of Ferguson and hanged nine of
their prisoners on the limb of a great tulip tree. Then the improvised
army scattered.¹ ¹See Chapter IX, Pioneers of the Old Southwest, by
Constance Lindsay Skinner in The Chronicles of America.
While the conflict for supremacy in the South was still uncertain, in
the Northwest the Americans made a stroke destined to have astounding
results. Virginia had long coveted lands in the valleys of the Ohio and
the Mississippi. It was in this region that Washington had first seen
active service, helping to wrest that land from France. The country was
wild. There was almost no settlement; but over a few forts on the upper
Mississippi and in the regions lying eastward to the Detroit River there
was that flicker of a red flag which meant that the Northwest was under
British rule. George Rogers Clark, like Washington a Virginian land
surveyor, was a strong, reckless, brave frontiersman. Early in 1778
Virginia gave him a small sum of money, made him a lieutenant colonel,
and authorized him to raise troops for a western adventure. He had less
than two hundred men when he appeared a little later at Kaskaskia near
the Mississippi in what is now Illinois and captured the small British
garrison, with the friendly consent of the French settlers about the
fort. He did the same thing at Cahokia, farther up the river. The
French scattered through the western country naturally sided with the
Americans, fighting now in alliance with France. The British sent out
a force from Detroit to try to check the efforts of Clark, but in
February, 1779, the indomitable frontiersman surprised and captured this
force at Vincennes on the Wabash. Thus did Clark's two hundred famished
and ragged men take possession of the Northwest, and, when peace was
made, this vast domain, an empire in extent, fell to the United States.
Clark's exploit is one of the pregnant romances of history.¹ ¹See
Chapters III and IV in The Old Northwest by Frederic Austin Ogg in The
Chronicles of America.
Perhaps the most sorrowful phase of the Revolution was the internal
conflict waged between its friends and its enemies in America, where
neighbor fought against neighbor. During this pitiless struggle the
strength of the Loyalists tended steadily to decline; and they came at
last to be regarded everywhere by triumphant revolution as a vile people
who should bear the penalties of outcasts. In this attitude towards them
Boston had given a lead which the rest of the country eagerly followed.
To coerce Loyalists local committees sprang up everywhere. It must be
said that the Loyalists gave abundant provocation. They sneered at rebel
officers of humble origin as convicts and shoeblacks. There should be
some fine hanging, they promised, on the return of the King's men to
Boston. Early in the Revolution British colonial governors, like Lord
Dunmore of Virginia, adopted the policy of reducing the rebels by
harrying their coasts. Sailors would land at night from ships and commit
their ravages in the light of burning houses. Soldiers would dart out
beyond the British lines, burn a village, carry off some Whig farmers,
and escape before opposing forces could rally. Governor Tryon of New
York was specially active in these enterprises and to this day a special
odium attaches to his name.
For these ravages, and often with justice, the Loyalists were held
responsible. The result was a bitterness which fired even the calm
spirit of Benjamin Franklin and led him when the day came for peace to
declare that the plundering and murdering adherents of King George
were the ones who should pay for damage and not the States which had
confiscated Loyalist property. Lists of Loyalist names were sometimes
posted and then the persons concerned were likely to be the victims of
any one disposed to mischief. Sometimes a suspected Loyalist would find
an effigy hung on a tree before his own door with a hint that next time
the figure might be himself. A musket ball might come whizzing through
his window. Many a Loyalist was stripped, plunged in a barrel of tar,
and then rolled in feathers, taken sometimes from his own bed.
Punishment for loyalism was not, however, left merely to chance. Even
before the Declaration of Independence, Congress, sitting itself in
a city where loyalism was strong, urged the States to act sternly in
repressing Loyalist opinion. They did not obey every urging of Congress
as eagerly as they responded to this one. In practically every
State Test Acts were passed and no one was safe who did not carry a
certificate that he was free of any suspicion of loyalty to King George.
Magistrates were paid a fee for these certificates and thus had a golden
reason for insisting that Loyalists should possess them. To secure a
certificate the holder must forswear allegiance to the King and promise
support to the State at war with him. An unguarded word even about the
value in gold of the continental dollar might lead to the adding of the
speaker's name to the list of the proscribed. Legislatures passed bills
denouncing Loyalists. The names in Massachusetts read like a list of
the leading families of New England. The "Black List" of Pennsylvania
contained four hundred and ninety names of Loyalists charged with
treason, and Philadelphia had the grim experience of seeing two
Loyalists led to the scaffold with ropes around their necks and hanged.
Most of the persecuted Loyalists lost all their property and remained
exiles from their former homes. The self-appointed committees took in
hand the task of disciplining those who did not fly, and the rabble
often pushed matters to brutal extremes. When we remember that
Washington himself regarded Tories as the vilest of mankind and unfit to
live, we can imagine the spirit of mobs, which had sometimes the further
incentive of greed for Loyalist property. Loyalists had the experience
of what we now call boycotting when they could not buy or sell in the
shops and were forced to see their own shops plundered. Mills would not
grind their corn. Their cattle were maimed and poisoned. They could
not secure payment of debts due to them or, if payment was made, they
received it in the debased continental currency at its face value. They
might not sue in a court of law, nor sell their property, nor make a
will. It was a felony for them to keep arms. No Loyalist might hold
office, or practice law or medicine, or keep a school.
Some Loyalists were deported to the wilderness in the back country.
Many took refuge within the British lines, especially at New York. Many
Loyalists created homes elsewhere. Some went to England only to
find melancholy disillusion of hope that a grateful motherland would
understand and reward their sacrifices. Large numbers found their way to
Nova Scotia and to Canada, north of the Great Lakes, and there played
a part in laying the foundation of the Dominion of today. The city of
Toronto with a population of half a million is rooted in the Loyalist
traditions of its Tory founders. Simcoe, the first Governor of Upper
Canada, who made Toronto his capital, was one of the most enterprising
of the officers who served with Cornwallis in the South and surrendered
with him at Yorktown.
The State of New York acquired from the forfeited lands of Loyalists
a sum approaching four million dollars, a great amount in those days.
Other States profited in a similar way. Every Loyalist whose property
was seized had a direct and personal grievance. He could join the
British army and fight against his oppressors, and this he did: New
York furnished about fifteen thousand men to fight on the British side.
Plundered himself, he could plunder his enemies, and this too he did
both by land and sea. In the autumn of 1778 ships manned chiefly by
Loyalist refugees were terrorizing the coast from Massachusetts to New
Jersey. They plundered Martha's Vineyard, burned some lesser towns,
such as New Bedford, and showed no quarter to small parties of American
troops whom they managed to intercept. What happened on the coast
happened also in the interior. At Wyoming in the northeastern part
of Pennsylvania, in July, 1778, during a raid of Loyalists, aided by
Indians, there was a brutal massacre, the horrors of which long served
to inspire hate for the British. A little later in the same year similar
events took place at Cherry Valley, in central New York. Burning houses,
the dead bodies not only of men but of women and children scalped by
the savage allies of the Loyalists, desolation and ruin in scenes
once peaceful and happy--such horrors American patriotism learned to
associate with the Loyalists. These in their turn remembered the slow
martyrdom of their lives as social outcasts, the threats and plunder
which in the end forced them to fly, the hardships, starvation, and
death to their loved ones which were wont to follow. The conflict is
perhaps the most tragic and irreconcilable in the whole story of the
Revolution.