Marion's Camp at Snow's Island--The Character of his
Warfare--Of his Men--Anecdotes of Conyers and Horry--He
feasts a British Officer on Potatoes--Quells a Mutiny.
Marion's career as a partisan, in the thickets and swamps of Carolina,
is abundantly distinguished by the picturesque; but it was while he
held his camp at Snow's Island, that it received its highest colors of
romance. In this snug and impenetrable fortress, he reminds us very
much of the ancient feudal baron of France and Germany, who, perched on
castled eminence, looked down with the complacency of an eagle from his
eyrie, and marked all below him for his own. The resemblance is good in
all respects but one. The plea and justification of Marion are complete.
His warfare was legitimate. He was no mountain robber,--no selfish and
reckless ruler, thirsting for spoil and delighting inhumanly in blood.
The love of liberty, the defence of country, the protection of the
feeble, the maintenance of humanity and all its dearest interests,
against its tyrant--these were the noble incentives which strengthened
him in his stronghold, made it terrible in the eyes of his enemy, and
sacred in those of his countrymen. Here he lay, grimly watching for
the proper time and opportunity when to sally forth and strike. His
position, so far as it sheltered him from his enemies, and gave him
facilities for their overthrow, was wonderfully like that of the
knightly robber of the Middle Ages. True, his camp was without its
castle--but it had its fosse and keep--its draw-bridge and portcullis.
There were no towers frowning in stone and iron--but there were tall
pillars of pine and cypress, from the waving tops of which the warders
looked out, and gave warning of the foe or the victim. No cannon
thundered from his walls; no knights, shining in armor, sallied forth
to the tourney. He was fond of none of the mere pomps of war. He held no
revels--"drank no wine through the helmet barred," and, quite unlike the
baronial ruffian of the Middle Ages, was strangely indifferent to
the feasts of gluttony and swilled insolence. He found no joy in the
pleasures of the table. Art had done little to increase the comforts or
the securities of his fortress. It was one, complete to his hands, from
those of nature--such a one as must have delighted the generous English
outlaw of Sherwood forest--isolated by deep ravines and rivers, a dense
forest of mighty trees, and interminable undergrowth. The vine and briar
guarded his passes. The laurel and the shrub, the vine and sweet scented
jessamine, roofed his dwelling, and clambered up between his closed
eyelids and the stars. Obstructions, scarcely penetrable by any foe,
crowded the pathways to his tent;--and no footstep, not practised in
the secret, and 'to the manner born', might pass unchallenged to his
midnight rest. The swamp was his moat; his bulwarks were the deep
ravines, which, watched by sleepless rifles, were quite as impregnable
as the castles on the Rhine. Here, in the possession of his fortress,
the partisan slept secure. In the defence of such a place, in the
employment of such material as he had to use, Marion stands out alone in
our written history, as the great master of that sort of strategy, which
renders the untaught militia-man in his native thickets, a match for the
best drilled veteran of Europe. Marion seemed to possess an intuitive
knowledge of his men and material, by which, without effort, he was led
to the most judicious modes for their exercise. He beheld, at a glance,
the evils or advantages of a position. By a nice adaptation of his
resources to his situation, he promptly supplied its deficiencies and
repaired its defects. Till this was done, he did not sleep;--he relaxed
in none of his endeavors. By patient toil, by keenest vigilance, by a
genius peculiarly his own, he reconciled those inequalities of
fortune or circumstance, under which ordinary men sit down in despair.
Surrounded by superior foes, he showed no solicitude on this account.
If his position was good, their superiority gave him little concern.
He soon contrived to lessen it, by cutting off their advanced parties,
their scouts or foragers, and striking at their detachments in detail.
It was on their own ground, in their immediate presence, nay, in the
very midst of them, that he frequently made himself a home. Better live
upon foes than upon friends, was his maxim; and this practice of living
amongst foes was the great school by which his people were taught
vigilance.
The adroitness and address of Marion's captainship were never more fully
displayed than when he kept Snow's Island; sallying forth, as occasion
offered, to harass the superior foe, to cut off his convoys, or to
break up, before they could well embody, the gathering and undisciplined
Tories. His movements were marked by equal promptitude and wariness.
He suffered no risks from a neglect of proper precaution. His habits
of circumspection and resolve ran together in happy unison. His plans,
carefully considered beforehand, were always timed with the happiest
reference to the condition and feelings of his men. To prepare that
condition, and to train those feelings, were the chief employment of his
repose. He knew his game, and how it should be played, before a step was
taken or a weapon drawn. When he himself, or any of his parties, left
the island, upon an expedition, they advanced along no beaten paths.
They made them as they went. He had the Indian faculty in perfection, of
gathering his course from the sun, from the stars, from the bark and the
tops of trees, and such other natural guides, as the woodman acquires
only through long and watchful experience. Many of the trails, thus
opened by him, upon these expeditions, are now the ordinary avenues of
the country. On starting, he almost invariably struck into the woods,
and seeking the heads of the larger water courses, crossed them at their
first and small beginnings. He destroyed the bridges where he could. He
preferred fords. The former not only facilitated the progress of less
fearless enemies, but apprised them of his own approach. If speed was
essential, a more direct, but not less cautious route was pursued. The
stream was crossed sometimes where it was deepest. On such occasions
the party swam their horses, Marion himself leading the way, though he
himself was unable to swim. He rode a famous horse called Ball, which
he had taken from a loyalist captain of that name. This animal was a
sorrel, of high, generous blood, and took the water as if born to it.
The horses of the brigade soon learned to follow him as naturally as
their riders followed his master. There was no waiting for pontoons and
boats. Had there been there would have been no surprises.
The secrecy with which Marion conducted his expeditions was, perhaps,
one of the reasons for their frequent success. He entrusted his schemes
to nobody, not even his most confidential officers. He consulted with
them respectfully, heard them patiently, weighed their suggestions, and
silently approached his conclusions. They knew his determinations only
from his actions. He left no track behind him, if it were possible to
avoid it. He was often vainly hunted after by his own detachments. He
was more apt at finding them than they him. His scouts were taught a
peculiar and shrill whistle, which, at night, could be heard at a most
astonishing distance. We are reminded of the signal of Roderick Dhu:--
----"He whistled shrill,
And he was answered from the hill,
Wild as the scream of the curlew,
From crag to crag, the signal flew."
His expeditions were frequently long, and his men, hurrying forth
without due preparation, not unfrequently suffered much privation from
want of food. To guard against this danger, it was their habit to watch
his cook. If they saw him unusually busied in preparing supplies of
the rude, portable food, which it was Marion's custom to carry on such
occasions, they knew what was before them, and provided themselves
accordingly. In no other way could they arrive at their general's
intentions. His favorite time for moving was with the setting sun,
and then it was known that the march would continue all night. Before
striking any sudden blow, he has been known to march sixty or seventy
miles, taking no other food in twenty-four hours, than a meal of
cold potatoes and a draught of cold water. The latter might have been
repeated. This was truly a Spartan process for acquiring vigor. Its
results were a degree of patient hardihood, as well in officers as men,
to which few soldiers in any periods have attained. These marches were
made in all seasons. His men were badly clothed in homespun, a light
wear which afforded little warmth. They slept in the open air, and
frequently without a blanket. Their ordinary food consisted of sweet
potatoes, garnished, on fortunate occasions, with lean beef. Salt
was only to be had when they succeeded in the capture of an enemy's
commissariat; and even when this most necessary of all human condiments
was obtained, the unselfish nature of Marion made him indifferent to its
use. He distributed it on such occasions, in quantities not exceeding a
bushel, to each Whig family; and by this patriarchal care, still farther
endeared himself to the affection of his followers.
The effect of this mode of progress was soon felt by the people of the
partisan. They quickly sought to emulate the virtues which they admired.
They became expert in the arts which he practised so successfully. The
constant employment which he gave them, the nature of his exactions,
taught activity, vigilance, coolness and audacity. His first
requisition, from his subordinates, was good information. His scouts
were always his best men. They were generally good horsemen, and first
rate shots. His cavalry were, in fact, so many mounted gunmen, not
uniformly weaponed, but carrying the rifle, the carbine, or an ordinary
fowling-piece, as they happened to possess or procure them. Their
swords, unless taken from the enemy, were made out of mill saws,
roughly manufactured by a forest blacksmith. His scouts were out in all
directions, and at all hours. They did the double duty of patrol and
spies. They hovered about the posts of the enemy, crouching in
the thicket, or darting along the plain, picking up prisoners, and
information, and spoils together. They cut off stragglers, encountered
patrols of the foe, and arrested his supplies on the way to the
garrison. Sometimes the single scout, buried in the thick tops of the
tree, looked down upon the march of his legions, or hung perched over
the hostile encampment till it slept, then slipping down, stole through
the silent host, carrying off a drowsy sentinel, or a favorite charger,
upon which the daring spy flourished conspicuous among his less
fortunate companions. The boldness of these adventurers was sometimes
wonderful almost beyond belief. It was the strict result of that
confidence in their woodman skill, which the practice of their leader,
and his invariable success, naturally taught them to entertain.
The mutual confidence which thus grew up between our partisan and his
men, made the business of war, in spite of its peculiar difficulties
and privations, a pleasant one. As they had no doubts of their leader's
ability to conduct them to victory, he had no apprehension, but, when
brought to a meeting with the enemy, that they would secure it. His
mode of battle was a simple one; generally very direct; but he was
wonderfully prompt in availing himself of the exigencies of the affair.
His rule was to know his enemy, how posted and in what strength,--then,
if his men were set on, they had nothing to do but to fight. They knew
that he had so placed them that valor was the only requisite. A swamp,
right or left, or in his rear; a thicket beside him;--any spot in which
time could be gained, and an inexperienced militia rallied, long enough
to become reconciled to the unaccustomed sights and sounds of war,--were
all that he required, in order to secure a fit position for fighting in.
He found no difficulty in making good soldiers of them. It caused him
no surprise, and we may add no great concern, that his raw militia
men, armed with rifle and ducking gun, should retire before the pushing
bayonets of a regular soldiery. He considered it mere butchery to expose
them to this trial. But he taught his men to retire slowly, to take post
behind the first tree or thicket, reload, and try the effect of a
second fire; and so on, of a third and fourth, retiring still, but never
forgetting to take advantage of every shelter that offered itself. He
expected them to fly, but not too far to be useful. We shall see the
effect of this training at Eutaw, where the militia in the advance
delivered seventeen fires, before they yielded to the press of the
enemy. But, says Johnson, with equal truth and terseness, "that distrust
of their own immediate commanders which militia are too apt to be
affected with, never produced an emotion where Marion and Pickens
commanded."* The history of American warfare shows conclusively that,
under the right leaders, the American militia are as cool in moments of
danger as the best drilled soldiery in the universe. But they have been
a thousand times disgraced by imbecile and vainglorious pretenders.
* History of Greene, p. 225, vol. 2.--
Marion was admirably supported by his followers. Several officers of the
brigade were distinguished men. Of Major John James we have already
seen something. All the brothers were men of courage and great muscular
activity. The Witherspoons were similarly endowed. His chief counsellors
were the brothers Horry, and Postelle,--all like himself descended from
Huguenot stocks. To the two last (the brothers Postelle) it has been
remarked, that "nothing appeared difficult."* Captains Baxter and
Conyers were particularly distinguished,--the first for his gigantic
frame, which was informed by a corresponding courage; the latter by his
equal bravery and horsemanship. He was a sort of knight-errant in the
brigade, and his behavior seemed not unfrequently dictated by a passion
for chivalrous display. An anecdote, in connection with Conyers, is
told, which will serve to show what was the spirit of the patriotic
damsels of the revolution. Marion had environed Colonel Watson, at a
plantation where Mary, the second daughter of John Witherspoon, was
living at the time. She was betrothed to Conyers. The gallant captain
daily challenged the British posts, skirmishing in the sight of his
mistress. His daring was apparent enough--his great skill and courage
were known. He presented himself frequently before the lines of the
enemy, either as a single champion or at the head of his troop. The
pride of the maiden's heart may be imagined when she heard the warning
in the camp, as she frequently did--"Take care,--there is Conyers!" The
insult was unresented: but, one day, when her lover appeared as usual, a
British officer, approaching her, spoke sneeringly, or disrespectfully,
of our knight-errant. The high spirited girl drew the shoe from her
foot, and flinging it in his face, exclaimed, "Coward! go and meet him!"
The chronicler from whom we derive this anecdote is particularly careful
to tell us that it was a walking shoe and not a kid slipper which she
made use of; by which we are to understand, that she was no ways tender
of the stroke.
* Judge James' Sketch of Marion.--
The Horrys were both able officers. Hugh was a particular favorite of
Marion. For his brother he had large esteem. Of Peter Horry we have
several amusing anecdotes, some of which we gather from himself. It is
upon the authority of his MS. memoir that we depend for several matters
of interest in this volume. This memoir, written in the old age of the
author, and while he suffered from infirmities of age and health, is a
crude but not uninteresting narrative of events in his own life, and of
the war. The colonel confesses himself very frankly. In his youth he had
a great passion for the sex, which led him into frequent difficulties.
These, though never very serious, he most seriously relates. He was
brave, and ambitious of distinction. This ambition led him to desire
a command of cavalry rather than of infantry. But he was no rider--was
several times unhorsed in combat, and was indebted to the fidelity of
his soldiers for his safety.* On one occasion his escape was more narrow
from a different cause. He gives us a ludicrous account of it himself.
Crossing the swamp at Lynch's Creek, to join Marion, in the dark, and
the swamp swimming, he encountered the bough of a tree, to which he
clung, while his horse passed from under him. He was no swimmer, and,
but for timely assistance from his followers, would have been drowned.
Another story, which places him in a scarcely less ludicrous attitude,
is told by Garden.** He was ordered by Marion to wait, in ambush, the
approach of a British detachment. The duty was executed with skill; the
enemy was completely in his power. But he labored under an impediment
in his speech, which, we may readily suppose, was greatly increased by
anxiety and excitement. The word "fire" stuck in his throat, as "amen"
did in that of Macbeth. The emergency was pressing, but this only
increased the difficulty. In vain did he make the attempt. He could say
"fi-fi-fi!" but he could get no further--the "r" was incorrigible. At
length, irritated almost to madness, he exclaimed, "SHOOT, d----n you,
SHOOT! you know what I would say! Shoot, and be d----d to you!" He was
present, and acted bravely, in almost every affair of consequence, in
the brigade of Marion. At Quinby, Capt. Baxter, already mentioned, a man
distinguished by his great strength and courage, as well as size, and
by equally great simplicity of character, cried out, "I am wounded,
colonel!" "Think no more of it, Baxter," was the answer of Horry, "but
stand to your post." "But I can't stand," says Baxter, "I am wounded
a second time." "Lie down then, Baxter, but quit not your post." "They
have shot me again, colonel," said the wounded man, "and if I stay any
longer here, I shall be shot to pieces." "Be it so, Baxter, but stir
not," was the order, which the brave fellow obeyed, receiving a fourth
wound before the engagement was over.
* MS. Memoir, p. 51.
** Anecdotes, first series, p. 30.--
It was while Marion was lying with his main force at the camp at Snow's
Island, that two circumstances occurred which deserve mention, as
equally serving to illustrate his own and the character of the warfare
of that time and region. One of these occurrences has long been a
popular anecdote, and, as such, has been made the subject of a very
charming picture, which has done something towards giving it a more
extended circulation.* The other is less generally known, but is not
less deserving of the popular ear, as distinguishing, quite as much as
the former, the purity, simplicity, and firmness of Marion's character.
It appears that, desiring the exchange of prisoners, a young officer was
dispatched from the British post at Georgetown to the swamp encampment
of Marion, in order to effect this object. He was encountered by one
of the scouting parties of the brigade, carefully blindfolded, and
conducted, by intricate paths, through the wild passes, and into the
deep recesses of the island. Here, when his eyes were uncovered, he
found himself surrounded by a motley multitude, which might well have
reminded him of Robin Hood and his outlaws. The scene was unquestionably
wonderfully picturesque and attractive, and our young officer seems to
have been duly impressed by it. He was in the middle of one of those
grand natural amphitheatres so common in our swamp forests, in which
the massive pine, the gigantic cypress, and the stately and ever-green
laurel, streaming with moss, and linking their opposite arms, inflexibly
locked in the embrace of centuries, group together, with elaborate limbs
and leaves, the chief and most graceful features of Gothic architecture.
To these recesses, through the massed foliage of the forest, the
sunlight came as sparingly, and with rays as mellow and subdued, as
through the painted window of the old cathedral, falling upon aisle and
chancel. Scattered around were the forms of those hardy warriors with
whom our young officer was yet destined, most probably, to meet in
conflict,--strange or savage in costume or attitude--lithe and sinewy of
frame--keen-eyed and wakeful at the least alarm. Some slept, some joined
in boyish sports; some with foot in stirrup, stood ready for the signal
to mount and march. The deadly rifle leaned against the tree, the
sabre depended from its boughs. Steeds were browsing in the shade, with
loosened bits, but saddled, ready at the first sound of the bugle to
skirr through brake and thicket. Distant fires, dimly burning, sent up
their faint white smokes, that, mingling with the thick forest tops,
which they could not pierce, were scarce distinguishable from the long
grey moss which made the old trees look like so many ancient patriarchs.
But the most remarkable object in all this scene was Marion himself.
Could it be that the person who stood before our visitor--"in stature
of the smallest size, thin, as well as low"**--was that of the redoubted
chief, whose sleepless activity and patriotic zeal had carried terror to
the gates of Charleston; had baffled the pursuit and defied the arms of
the best British captains; had beaten the equal enemy, and laughed
at the superior? Certainly, if he were, then never were the simple
resources of intellect, as distinguishable from strength of limb, or
powers of muscle, so wonderfully evident as in this particular instance.
The physical powers of Marion were those simply of endurance. His
frame had an iron hardihood, derived from severe discipline and subdued
desires and appetites, but lacked the necessary muscle and capacities of
the mere soldier. It was as the general, the commander, the counsellor,
rather than as the simple leader of his men, that Marion takes rank,
and is to be considered in the annals of war. He attempted no physical
achievements, and seems to have placed very little reliance upon his
personal prowess.***
* General Marion, in his swamp encampment, inviting the
British officer to dinner. Painted by J. B. White; engraved
by Sartain; published by the Apollo Association.
** Henry Lee's Memoirs. He adds: "His visage was not
pleasing, and his manners not captivating. He was reserved
and silent, entering into conversation only when necessary,
and then with modesty and good sense. He possessed a strong
mind, improved by its own reflections and observations, not
by books or travel. His dress was like his address--
plain, regarding comfort and decency only. In his meals he
was abstemious, eating generally of one dish, and drinking
water mostly. He was sedulous and constant in his attention
to the duties of his station, to which every other
consideration yielded. Even the charms of the fair, like the
luxuries of the table and the allurements of wealth, seemed
to be lost upon him. The procurement of subsistence for his
men, and the continuance of annoyance for his enemy,
engrossed his entire mind. He was virtuous all over; never,
even in manner, much less in reality, did he trench upon
right. Beloved by his friends, and respected by his
enemies, he exhibited a luminous example of the beneficial
effects to be produced by an individual who, with only small
means at his command, possesses a virtuous heart, a strong
head, and a mind directed to the common good."--Appendix
to 'Memoirs', vol. 1 p. 396.
*** The dislike or indifference of Marion, to anything like
mere military display, was a matter of occasional comment,
and some jest, among his followers. Among other proofs
which are given of this indifference, we are told, that, on
one occasion, attempting to draw his sword from the
scabbard, he failed to do so in consequence of the rust, the
result of his infrequent employment of the weapon.
Certainly, a rich event in the life of a military man. The
fact is, that Marion seldom used his sword except in battle,
or on occasions when its employment was inseparable from his
duties. Long swords were then in fashion, but he continued
to wear the small cut and thrust of the second regiment.
Such a weapon better suited his inferior physique, and
necessarily lessened the motives to personal adventure.--
The British visitor was a young man who had never seen Marion. The great
generals whom he was accustomed to see, were great of limb, portly, and
huge of proportion. Such was Cornwallis, and others of the British army.
Such, too, was the case among the Americans. The average weight of these
opposing generals, during that war, is stated at more than two hundred
pounds. The successes of Marion must naturally have led our young
Englishman to look for something in his physique even above this
average, and verging on the gigantic. Vastness seems always the most
necessary agent in provoking youthful wonder, and satisfying it. His
astonishment, when they did meet, was, in all probability, not of a kind
to lessen the partisan in his estimation. That a frame so slight, and
seemingly so feeble, coupled with so much gentleness, and so little
pretension, should provoke a respect so general, and fears, on one side,
so impressive, was well calculated to compel inquiry as to the true
sources of this influence. Such an inquiry was in no way detrimental
to a reputation founded, like Marion's, on the successful exercise of
peculiar mental endowments. The young officer, as soon as his business
was dispatched, prepared to depart, but Marion gently detained him, as
he said, for dinner, which was in preparation. "The mild and dignified
simplicity of Marion's manners had already produced their effects, and,
to prolong so interesting an interview, the invitation was accepted. The
entertainment was served up on pieces of bark, and consisted entirely
of roasted potatoes, of which the general ate heartily, requesting his
guest to profit by his example, repeating the old adage, that 'hunger is
the best sauce.'" "But surely, general," said the officer, "this cannot
be your ordinary fare." "Indeed, sir, it is," he replied, "and we are
fortunate on this occasion, entertaining company, to have more than our
usual allowance."* The story goes, that the young Briton was so greatly
impressed with the occurrence, that, on his return to Georgetown, he
retired from the service, declaring his conviction that men who could
with such content endure the privations of such a life, were not to be
subdued. His conclusion was strictly logical, and hence, indeed, the
importance of such a warfare as that carried on by Marion, in which, if
he obtained no great victories, he was yet never to be overcome.
* Garden--Anecdotes--First Series, p. 22.--
The next anecdote, if less pleasing in its particulars, is yet better
calculated for the development of Marion's character, the equal powers
of firmness and forbearance which he possessed, his superiority to
common emotions, and the mingled gentleness and dignity with which he
executed the most unpleasant duties of his command. Marion had placed
one of his detachments at the plantation of a Mr. George Crofts, on
Sampit Creek. This person had proved invariably true to the American
cause; had supplied the partisans secretly with the munitions of war,
with cattle and provisions. He was an invalid, however, suffering from a
mortal infirmity, which compelled his removal for medical attendance to
Georgetown, then in possession of the enemy.* During the absence of
the family, Marion placed a sergeant in the dwelling-house, for its
protection. From this place the guard was expelled by two officers of
the brigade, and the house stripped of its contents. The facts were
first disclosed to Marion by Col. P. Horry, who received them from the
wife of Crofts. This lady pointed to the sword of her husband actually
at the side of the principal offender. The indignation of Marion was not
apt to expend itself in words. Redress was promised to the complainant
and she was dismissed. Marion proceeded with all diligence to the
recovery of the property. But his course was governed by prudence as
well as decision. The offenders were men of some influence, and had a
small faction in the brigade, which had already proved troublesome, and
might be dangerous. One of them was a major, the other a captain. Their
names are both before us in the MS. memoir of Horry, whose copious
detail on this subject leaves nothing to be supplied. We forbear giving
them, as their personal publication would answer no good purpose. They
were in command of a body of men, about sixty in number, known as the
Georgia Refugees. Upon the minds of these men the offenders had already
sought to act, in reference to the expected collision with their
general. Marion made his preparations with his ordinary quietness, and
then dispatched Horry to the person who was in possession of the sword
of Croft; for which he made a formal demand. He refused to give it up,
alleging that it was his, and taken in war. "If the general wants
it," he added, "let him come for it himself." When this reply was
communicated to Marion he instructed Horry to renew the demand. His
purpose seems to have been, discovering the temper of the offender, to
gain the necessary time. His officers, meanwhile, were gathering around
him. He was making his preparations for a struggle, which might be
bloody, which might, indeed, involve not only the safety of his brigade,
but his own future usefulness. Horry, however, with proper spirit,
entreated not to be sent again to the offender, giving, as a reason for
his reluctance, that, in consequence of the previous rudeness of the
other, he was not in the mood to tolerate a repetition of the indignity,
and might, if irritated, be provoked to violence. Marion then dispatched
his orderly to the guilty major, with a request, civilly worded, that he
might see him at head quarters. He appeared accordingly, accompanied
by the captain who had joined with him in the outrage, and under whose
influence he appeared to act. Marion renewed his demand, in person, for
the sword of Croft. The other again refused to deliver it, alleging that
"Croft was a Tory, and even then with the enemy in Georgetown."
* The brigade of Marion was for a long period without
medical attendance or a surgeon to dress his wounded. If a
wound reached an artery the patient bled to death. To
illustrate the fierce hostility of Whigs and Tories, a
single anecdote will suffice. On one occasion, Horry had
three men wounded near Georgetown. A surgeon of the Tories
was then a prisoner in his ranks, yet he positively refused
to dress the wounds, and suffered a fine youth named Kolb,
to bleed to death before his eyes, from a slight injury upon
the wrist.--
"Will you deliver me the sword or not, Major------?" was the answer
which Marion made to this suggestion.
"I will not!" was the reply of the offender. "At these words," says
Horry in the MS. before us, "I could forbear no longer, and said with
great warmth, 'By G--d, sir, did I command this brigade, as you do, I
would hang them both up in half an hour!' Marion sternly replied,--'This
is none of your business, sir: they are both before me!--Sergeant of the
guard, bring me a file of men with loaded arms and fixed bayonets!'--'I
was silent!' adds Horry: 'all our field officers in camp were present,
and when the second refusal of the sword was given, they all put their
hands to their swords in readiness to draw. My own sword was already
drawn!'"
In the regular service, and with officers accustomed to, and bred up
in, the severe and stern sense of authority which is usually thought
necessary to a proper discipline, the refractory offender would most
probably have been hewn down in the moment of his disobedience. The
effect of such a proceeding, in the present instance, might have been of
the most fatal character. The 'esprit de corps' might have prompted the
immediate followers of the offender to have seized upon their weapons,
and, though annihilated, as Horry tells us they would have been, yet
several valuable lives might have been lost, which the country could ill
have spared. The mutiny would have been put down, but at what a price!
The patience and prudence of Marion's character taught him forbearance.
His mildness, by putting the offender entirely in the wrong, so
justified his severity, as to disarm the followers of the criminals.
These, as we have already said, were about sixty in number. Horry
continues: "Their intentions were, to call upon these men for
support--our officers well knew that they meant, if possible, to
intimidate Marion, so as to [make him] come into their measures of
plunder and Tory-killing." The affair fortunately terminated without
bloodshed. The prudence of the general had its effect. The delay gave
time to the offenders for reflection. Perhaps, looking round upon
their followers, they saw no consenting spirit of mutiny in their eyes,
encouraging their own; for, "though many of these refugees were present,
none offered to back or support the mutinous officers;"--and when the
guard that was ordered, appeared in sight, the companion of the chief
offender was seen to touch the arm of the other, who then proffered
the sword to Marion, saying, "General, you need not have sent for the
guard."* Marion, refusing to receive it, referred him to the sergeant
of the guard, and thus doubly degraded, the dishonored major of
Continentals--for he was such--disappeared from sight, followed by his
associate. His farther punishment was of a kind somewhat differing from
those which are common to armies, by which the profession of arms is
sometimes quite as much dishonored as the criminal. Marion endeavored,
by his punishments, to elevate the sense of character in the spectators.
He had some of the notions of Napoleon on this subject. He was averse
to those brutal punishments which, in the creature, degrade the glorious
image of the Creator. In the case of the two offenders, thus dismissed
from his presence, the penalty was, of all others, the most terrible to
persons, in whose minds there remained the sparks even of a conventional
honor. These men had been guilty of numerous offences against humanity.
Marion expelled them from his brigade. Subsequently, their actions
became such, that he proclaimed their outlawry through the country.** By
one of these men he was challenged to single combat, but he treated the
summons with deserved contempt. His composure remained unruffled by the
circumstance.
* Horry's MS., from which the several extracts preceding
have been made.--pp. 100-103.
** He set up on trees and houses, in public places,
proclamations in substance thus, that Major----and Capt.
----
did not belong to his brigade, that they were banditti,
robbers and thieves,--were hereby deemed out of the laws,
and might be killed wherever found.--Horry's MS. pp. 104,
105.--
In this affair, as in numerous others, Marion's great knowledge of the
militia service, and of the peculiar people with whom he sometimes had
to deal, enabled him to relieve himself with little difficulty from
troublesome companions. Of these he necessarily had many; for the
exigencies of the country were such that patriotism was not permitted
to be too nice in the material which it was compelled to employ. The
refugees were from various quarters--were sometimes, as we have seen,
adopted into his ranks from those of the defeated Tories, and were
frequently grossly ignorant, not only of what was due to the community
in which they found themselves, but still more ignorant of the
obligations of that military law to which they voluntarily put
themselves in subjection. Marion's modes of punishment happily reached
all such cases without making the unhappy offender pay too dearly for
the sin of ignorance. On one occasion, Horry tells us that he carried
before him a prisoner charged with desertion to the enemy. "Marion
released him, saying to me, 'let him go, he is too worthless to deserve
the consideration of a court martial.'" Such a decision in such a case,
would have shocked a military martinet, and yet, in all probability, the
fellow thus discharged, never repeated the offence, and fought famously
afterwards in the cause of his merciful commander. We have something yet
to learn on these subjects. The result of a system in which scorn is
so equally blended with mercy, was singularly good. In the case of the
person offending (as is frequently the case among militia) through sheer
ignorance of martial law, it teaches while it punishes, and reforms, in
some degree, the being which it saves. Where the fault flows from native
worthlessness of character the effect is not less beneficial. One of
Marion's modes of getting rid of worthless officers, was to put them
into coventry. In this practice his good officers joined him, and their
sympathy and cooperation soon secured his object. "He kept a list of
them," said Horry, "which he called his Black List. This mode answered
so well that many resigned their commissions, and the brigade was
thus fortunately rid of such worthless fellows." The values of such a
riddance is well shown by another sentence from the MS. of our veteran.
"I found the men seldom defective, were it not for the bad example set
them by their officers."*
* MS. p. 55.--