and settled at Edgefield. The sons were sent to Virginia to be
educated, and it was there that John formed a close personal friendship
for George Washington, which ripened with the coming years. When the
war for American Independence was declared, John Martin, and his
seven brothers, all officers, had his life's desire fulfilled, and
following the footsteps of his father saw service in the defence of
his country. He also served with distinction in the state legislature
and afterward was made General in command of the South Carolina state
troops. He married Elizabeth, the daughter of Colonel Nathaniel Terry,
of Virginia. Many years later General John Martin was on a visit to
his son Marshall Martin, in Meriwether County, Georgia at the time
when Georgia was called upon to furnish her quota of troops for the
war of 1812. John Martin was then 70 years old and still the fires of
patriotism were not extinguished nor the love of battle front subdued.
The talk of another war with England made him forget his years, and his
infirmities, and as his son Marshall recounted the probabilities of
renewed encounters, and spoke of his own enlistment, the old "war horse
sniffing the battle from afar," exclaimed excitedly, "My son let me go
in your stead."
After this visit John Martin returned to his Edgefield home, where he
died in 1820.
Boys and girls who would develop fine character must have high ideals
even in childhood. "Sow a thought and you reap a habit, sow a habit and
you reap a character, sow a character and you reap a destiny"--M. M.
PARK, David Meriwether Chapter, D. A. R., Greenville.
JOHN STARK, REVOLUTIONARY SOLDIER.
The victory of the little band of patriots at Bennington early in the
Revolutionary War made John Stark famous, and shortly afterward he
was christened "Old Bennington," first by the soldiers and then by
the American colonists generally. At the time of the victory Stark
was close to fifty years of age, and had had a long and distinguished
career as an Indian fighter.
In early life John Stark was a New Hampshire farmer, and in that
state he was born of Irish parents, and there he died in 1822, at
the advanced age of 94. His farm was located in the wildest part of
the forest country of New Hampshire, and Indian fighting was a hobby
with him. Several years prior to the Revolution he and his little
band of frontiersmen had succeeded in driving the Indians from their
neighborhood, so that they were no longer troubled with them. Then for
several years Stark settled down to the enjoyment of farm life. At
this vocation he continued until tidings reached him of the battle of
Lexington.
Promptly upon the receipt of this news he mounted his horse, and at the
head of several hundred of his neighbors, set out to join the Colonial
Army at Cambridge. Upon his arrival there he was appointed a colonel,
and in one day he had organized a regiment of 800 hardy backswoodsmen.
Then came the memorable Bunker Hill day. Stark and his men were
stationed a few miles away from the scene of this conflict, but in
full sight of both Bunker and Breed's hills. Seeing that a battle
was inevitable, he waited for no orders, but set out at once for the
ground, which he reached just before the conflict began. He led his men
into the fight saying: "Boys aim at their waistbands," an order that
has become historical.
In the heat of this action a soldier came to Stark with the report that
his son, a youth of 16, who was with him on the field had been killed.
"This is not the moment to talk of private affairs," was the grim
reply; "go back to your post."
As it proved, the report was false, and young Stark served as a staff
officer through the war.
After the patriots were compelled to evacuate Boston, Stark marched
with his regiment to New York, but was shortly directed to take part
in the ill-starred expedition against Canada. The retreating army
reached Ticonderoga on the 7th of July. Here on the following day the
Declaration of Independence reached the soldiers in the field and Col.
Stark had the satisfaction, on the scene of his former exploits, to
hear the proclamation read to his cheering troops.
Then Gen. Stark proceeded south to assist Washington and to gain his
full share of applause in the battle of Trenton. In March, 1777, he
returned to his native state to recruit the ranks of his regiment, and
while there news came to him that a new list of promotions had been
made in which his name was omitted, while younger officers had been
advanced in rank. This injustice he bitterly resented and resigned from
the army and retired to his farm.
But Stark was still the patriot and when the information reached him
that the enemy were moving south from Canada, and that Gen. St. Clair
had retreated and that Ticonderoga had been captured, New Hampshire
flew to arms and called for Stark to command her troops.
Stark was at Bennington when he learned that a detachment of six
hundred men under Col. Baum had been dispatched by Burgoyne on a
foraging expedition in that section, sending a party of Indians in
advance on a scouting raid. Upon learning of this Stark sent out
expresses to call in the militia of the neighborhood, he marched out to
meet Baum, who entrenched himself in a strong position about six miles
from Bennington.
This was on the 14th of August. A few miles out he met Lieut.-Col.
Gregg retreating, with the enemy close at hand. Stark at once halted
and drew up his men in order of battle. The enemy, seeing this, at
once stopped also and entrenched themselves. Thus the armies remained
for two days, contenting themselves with skirmishing, in which the
Americans had much the best of the game. Baum's Indians began to
desert, saying that "the woods were filled with Yankees."
On the morning of the sixteenth Stark prepared for an attack. Before
advancing he addressed his men with that brief but telling address
which has made his name historic: "There are the red coats; we must
beat them to-day or to-night Molly Stark sleeps a widow."
They beat them and "Molly" had the satisfaction of long enjoying the
fame that came to John, instead of wearing the widow's weeds. The
victory was decisive and by a band of raw militia, poorly armed and
without discipline, but led by one of the most fearless men of the
revolution.
Of the one thousand British soldiers engaged in this fight, not more
than a hundred escaped, and it was this victory of "Old Bennington"
which led ultimately to the surrender of Burgoyne at Saratoga. Col.
Baum, who was mortally wounded, said of the provisionals, "They fought
more like hell-hounds than like soldiers." Washington spoke of the
engagement as "the great stroke struck by Gen. Stark near Bennington"
and Baroness Riedessel, then in the British camp, wrote: "This
unfortunate event paralyzed our operations."
"Old Bennington" was a splendid type of the class of men who gave
success to the American Revolution. Congress, after Bennington,
hastened to repair its former action by appointing Stark a
brigadier-general, and he continued in the army till the end of the
war. He lived to see the country firmly established, and when he died
in 1822 he was buried on the banks of the Merrimac River at Manchester.
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.
BY GEORGE FITCH.
Benjamin Franklin was an ordinary man with an extraordinary supply of
common sense who flourished in the eighteenth century and is still
regarded as one of the finest of American products.
Franklin was born in Boston, but was one of the few Boston wise
men to succeed in getting away from that city. His family was not
distinguished and when he left Boston, after having run a newspaper
with more brilliance than success, no committee of city officials
appeared to bid him goodbye.
Franklin arrived in Philadelphia with enough money left to buy two
rolls of bread and paraded the town wearing one loaf under his arm and
eating the other. This successfully quarantined him from Philadelphia
society and he was enabled to put all his time into the printing
business with such success that he was sent to London in 1824 by the
governor to get a printing outfit. He worked for eighteen months in a
London printing house and was probably the most eminent employee that
London Journalism ever had, though England has not yet waked up to this
fact.
Franklin then returned to Philadelphia and purchased _The Gazette_,
which he began to edit with such success that he frequently had to
spend all day making change for eager subscribers. It might be well to
mention here that at this time he was only 23 years old, having been
born January 17, 1706, and having been a full-fledged editor at the
age of 15. Genius often consists in getting an early start and keeping
started.
At the age of 26 Franklin's "Poor Richard's Almanac," the sayings of
a wise old man, had the largest circulation of anything printed in
the Colonies, and people sought his advice on everything from love to
chicken raising. At the age of 31 he was a member of the Pennsylvania
Assembly. At 40 he had diagnosed lightning and had exhibited the first
electricity ever in captivity in a bottle, having caught it with a kite
string and a key. He had also charted the course of North American
storms, and explained the gulf stream.
Franklin helped the Colonies to declare their independence and secured
the treaty of alliance with France. At 79 he was elected governor of
Pennsylvania. At 82 he helped write the Constitution of the United
States. He also devised the American postal system. He died at the age
of 84, and Philadelphia is prouder of his tombstone than she is of the
Liberty Bell.
Through all his long and busy life Franklin never had time to dress
up and adopt the social usages of his day. But this did not prevent
him from dazzling the exquisite court of France at its most brilliant
and useless period. He was one of the few men who gave to the earth
more wisdom than he absorbed from it, but he never was a bonanza for
the tailors. Had he spent his youth keeping four tailors and three
haberdashers in affluence, Franklin relics would probably not command
the high price which they now do.
CAPTAIN MUGFORD RAN THE BRITISH BLOCKADE AND CAPTURED POWDER SHIP.
Had Great Britain made peace with the American colonies after the
British army had been driven from Boston, James Mugford would be a
popular hero today. But Great Britain continued the war for eight long
years, and so many heroes were made that the name of James Mugford,
"the world forgetting, and by the world forgot," was lost.
Mugford died in 1776. He and his 27 companions were attacked by 200
British marines. They fought most all night, and the British were
whipped, but the gallant captain was killed by a pike thrust.
The British under General Gage evacuated Boston, in March, 1776. The
British fleet remained behind in Boston to blockade the port. General
Washington hurried to New York with the main Colonial army to dispute
the proposed British landing there. General Artemas Ward was left
in command of a pretty sizeable American army around Boston; but
Washington had taken all the powder and most of the guns.
The Americans were at the mercy of the British ships, only the British
didn't know it. General Ward zealously guarded the fact that his powder
supply was nil, and planned to fill his magazines at the invader's
expense.
Accordingly two small ships, the schooners Hancock and Franklin, were
outfitted and ordered to sea for the purpose of capturing a supply
ship. Captain Samuel Tucker commanded the Hancock. James Mugford, a
citizen of Marblehead, Mass., was appointed master of the Franklin. His
vessel carried a crew of 21, including himself.
On May 7 Captain Tucker captured two brigs laden with valuable
supplies; but no powder. He took his prizes to Lynn. General Ward
communicated with Captain Mugford and explained to him the desperate
straits the army was fronting.
"I'll get some powder," said the short-spoken Marblehead. And he did.
The British ship Hope, carrying war munitions for the British, was due.
It had powder for the fleet. Captain Mugford heard of its expected
arrival and put to sea.
Almost within sight of the British fleet he met the Hope and captured
it. But how to land the prize? He didn't have men enough to take it to
Lynn or any other port very distant. The British fleet lay between him
and the American army in Boston.
Captain Mugford chose to run the British blockade and fight the whole
fleet of a dozen ships or more, if necessary. He put a few of his best
men aboard the Hope and made the British crew sail it. Then, in the
Franklin, he arrogantly sailed toward the British fleet and dropped a
few cannon balls its way.
The British were astounded. What could this crazy skipper mean by
attacking a fleet with one dinky little schooner? They would teach him
a lesson. The whole fleet maneuvered round to blow the Franklin off the
bay. Meanwhile the Hope sneaked in the harbor, and then Captain Mugford
outsailed the British fleet and got in himself. In the hold of the Hope
the Americans found 75 tons of powder and other war stores needed just
then more than men or gold. Mugford had made good his word.
Very naturally the British were angry. The admiral issued an order that
James Mugford was to be captured by any hook or crook and promptly
killed. Somebody told Captain Mugford about the order.
"Oh, piffle!" he said, or something like that. "I'll run by his derned
old fleet every day in the week and twice on Sunday if I want."
The Sunday following, May 19, 1776, Captain Mugford, in the Franklin,
with 21 men, and Captain Cunningham, in the privateer Lady Washington,
a vessel carrying seven men and a few small swivel guns, started to
puncture the British blockade again. They would have succeeded, but the
Franklin grounded. A flotilla of small boats from the fleet, carrying
200 well-armed men, started for the attack. Captain Cunningham refused
to leave his companion, so both he and Captain Mugford prepared for
battle.
It was a fiercely fought contest and lasted the better part of the
night. On May 20 General Ward made the following report of the
engagement:
"Captain Mugford was very fiercely attacked by 12 or 13 boats full of
men, but he and his men exerted themselves with remarkable bravery,
beat off the enemy, sunk several of their boats and killed a number
of their men; it is supposed they lost 60 or 70. The intrepid Captain
Mugford fell a little before the enemy left his schooner. He was run
through with a lance while he was cutting off the hands of the pirates
as they were attempting to board him, and it is said that with his
own hands he cut off five pairs of theirs. No other man was killed or
wounded on the Franklin."--_Kansas City Star._
GOVERNOR JOHN CLARKE.
Among the historical sketches penned by Miss Annie M. Lane for the
American Journal of History, that touching the life of Governor John
Clarke, received the highest award, and through the kindness of the
author we are permitted to reproduce it.
"Why are the dead not dead? Who can undo
What time has done? Who can win back the wind?
Beckon lost music from a broken lute?
Renew the redness of a last year's rose?
Or dig the sunken sun-set from the deep?"
I sometimes think there are more interesting things and people under
the ground than above it, yet we who are above it do not want to go
below it to get acquainted with them, but if we can find out anything
from the outside we enjoy it. In a previous article, I said there was
no spot in Georgia so full of buried romance as Wilkes County, and no
manuscript so fascinating as the musty and yellow old records of a
hundred years ago, which lie unmolested in our courthouse, especially
those of 1777.
One cannot but feel after reading these books that he has been face
to face with the grand old gentlemen of Revolutionary days: the men
who walked our streets with their ruffled shirts--three-cornered hats
and dangling swords--yet so different are they in personality and
character that the weaving together of their lives makes to me a grand
and beautiful fabric, "a tapestry of reminiscent threads." Some rich,
some dark and sombre in shade, making a background so fitting for the
crimson and purple and gold--for the conspicuous, inflaming color of
impetuous natures, toned down with characters as white and cool as the
snowflakes which fall upon our Southern violets.
You have but to close your eyes to the scene of today to recall
ex-Governor Talbot, Governor Matthews, General Clarke, together with
Jesse Mercer, Mr. Springer and Duncan C. Campbell, who were familiar
figures once upon the streets of Washington.
In the painting of character sketches we would not do the individual
justice if we did not remember his environments, and above all his
inherited nature, for are we not all bound by heredity? My last sketch
was of Jesse Mercer, now it is of John Clarke. How striking the
contrast. The life of Jesse Mercer was as quiet and majestic as was his
nature. John Clarke just three years his senior, born and reared at no
great distance had a life of adventure. He was the son of our stalwart
General Elijah Clarke and his wife, Hannah, and was the youngest
soldier whose name appears upon the roster of Kettle Creek, being 13
years of age. (Battle of Kettle Creek, 1779, John Clarke, born 1766.)
I will refer you to history to convince you of how his whole nature
was fired by the blood within his veins, inherited from both mother
and father. He came of fighting stock in a fighting age! In "White's
Historical Collections of Georgia," there is an account of the life of
Hannah Clarke, who survived her husband, Elijah Clarke, twenty years,
dying at the age of 90 (in 1829.) The burning of her house by a party
of British and Tories is recorded, and the turning out of herself and
children while General Clarke was away.
When General Clarke was so desperately wounded at Long Cane in
Carolina, she started to him and was robbed of the horse on which she
was riding. On one campaign she accompanied him and when she was moving
from a place of danger, the horse on which she and two of her younger
children were riding was shot from under her. Later, she was at the
siege of Augusta. All this time General Elijah Clarke's right hand man
was young John. Being reared in the army, this boy became wild and
impetuous; by nature he was intense, so when cupid's dart entered his
heart it was inflamed as deeply with love as it had been with hatred
for the British. His love story ends with Meredith's words, "Whom
first we love, we seldom wed."
About four miles from the hill on which the little battle of Kettle
Creek was fought, there lived an orphan girl, the stepdaughter of
Artnial Weaver, and the youngest sister of Sabina Chivers, who married
Jesse Mercer. John Clarke loved this girl, but there was opposition to
the union. But as yet not knowing the meaning of the word defeat, he
induced her to elope with him.
It was his thought to take her to the home of a friend of his father's,
Daniel Marshall, near Kiokee, but the weather was severe, and a
snowstorm set in. They were compelled to stop at a farm house where
lived the mother of Major Freeman (related to Dr. S. G. Hillyer.) Miss
Chivers was taken ill that night with congestion of the lungs, and
died. In the absence of flowers the good woman of the house adorned
the dead girl with bunches of holly, entwined them in her beautiful
black hair and placed them in her clasped hands. The grave they covered
with the same beautiful crimson and green holly, upon which the snow
recently fell. This was the first real sorrow in the life of John
Clarke and many were to follow.
To some the years come and go like beautiful dreams, and life seems
only as a fairy tale that is told, yet there are natures for which this
cannot be. Some hands reach forth too eagerly to cull life's sweet,
fair flowers, and often grasp hidden thorns. Feet that go with quick,
fearless steps are most apt to be wounded by jutting stones, and alas!
John Clarke found them where 'er he went through life's bright sunlight
or its shaded paths, these cruel, sharp piercing thorns; those hard,
cold, hurting stones.
We next see John Clarke just before he enters into his political
life. From "The History of Wilkes County," in our library, I copy the
following, viz: "Micajah Williamson kept a licensed tavern in the town
of Washington--on record, we find that he sold with meals, drinks as
follows: Good Jamaica spirits, per gill, 2d; good Madeira wine, per
bottle, 4s 8d; all white wines, per battle, 3s 6d; port, per bottle,
1s 9d; good whiskey and brandy, per gill, 6d & C. & C. at that time a
shilling was really 22c., a penny 7-5 of a cent."
In front of this tavern was a large picture of George Washington
hanging as a swinging sign. John Clarke used to come to town, and like
most men of his day got drunk. They all did not "cut up," however,
as he did on such occasions. He went into stores and smashed things
generally, as tradition says, but he always came back and paid for them
like a gentleman. Once he came into town intoxicated and galloped down
Court street and fired through the picture of General Washington before
the tavern door. This was brought up against him later when he was a
candidate for governor, but his friends denied it.
Soon after this he married the oldest daughter of Micajah Williamson,
while Duncan C. Campbell married the youngest.
The stirring events which followed we have all learned in history, how
the state was divided into two factions, the Clarkeites and those for
Crawford and Troup. The state was so evenly divided that the fight was
fierce. The common people and owners of small farms were for Clarke,
the "gentry" and well-to-do educated folk for Crawford, and sent him
to the United States Senate. Clarke and Crawford from youth had been
antagonistic. Clarke, while uneducated, was brilliantly intelligent,
but deeply sensitive. Crawford was polished and of courtly bearing,
a man of education, but was very overbearing. Had he lived today our
public school boy would say "he was always nagging at Clarke." Be
that as it may, it was nip and tuck between them in the gubernatorial
campaign. Clarke fought a duel with Crawford at High Shoals, and
shattered his wrist. Later he tried to get Crawford to meet him again,
but he persistently refused. One ugly thing to me was the horsewhipping
of Judge Tate by Governor Clarke on the streets of Milledgeville, then
the capital. This did Clarke no good.
General Clarke twice defeated Mr. Troup for governor. Troup was at
last elected, defeating Matthew Talbot, who was on Clarke's side in
1823. General Clarke was defeated by Talbot himself. There is never
an article written about Clarke that his bad spelling is not referred
to. Not long ago I read in a magazine published in Georgia that Clarke
spelled coffee "kaughphy." This is not true, that honor belongs to
Matthews, another one of the familiar figures once on the streets of
Washington. Even the best educated of our Revolutionary heroes did not
spell correctly as we call it, from George Washington down.
I rather enjoy their license for I think English spelling is a
tyrannical imposition. After the defeat of Clarke the tide was against
him. Many untrue things were said about him and they cut him deeply. He
was misunderstood often, and in chagrin he left the state.
Rise, O Muse, in the wrath of thy rapture divine,
And sweep with a finger of fame every line
Till it tremble and burn as thine own glances burn
Through the vision thou kindlest wherein I discern
All the unconscious cruelty hid in the heart
Of mankind; all the limitless grief we impart
Unawares to each other; the limitless wrong
We inflict without need, as we hurry along
In this boisterous pastime of life.
Beneath the rough exterior there never beat a kinder heart than that
in the breast of John Clarke. Although he had the brusque manner of a
soldier of Revolutionary days, with those he loved he was as tender
and gentle as a child. On one occasion soon after his first election
to the governorship of Georgia there was a banquet given in his honor.
The decorations on the white linen of the table were wreaths of holly,
thought to be very beautiful and tasty. When the governor entered with
his friends he stopped stock still in the doorway turning deathly pale.
He ordered every piece of holly dashed from the window. The occurrence
was spread far and wide all over the state and criticism ran high,
and even his friends disapproved of the uncivil act of one in his high
station. He never made an explanation until years afterwards.