bore in those momentous days. And yet the name of Morgan was omitted
from the official account of the surrender which he did so much to
compel. The reason was not far to seek and is now well-known.
Again—this time on a triumphant field—did the innate nobleness, the
loyalty and love of country of Daniel Morgan overcome the
blandishments of the tempter and scorn his proffered preferments.
General Gates sought to persuade the honest woodsman to join him and
his co-conspirators in the “Conway Cabal,” which had for its object
the promotion of Gates over Washington. He refused. Had he yielded,
his name would have blazoned the dispatches announcing the
capitulation. When Gates had concluded his request, the frank and
honest soul of Morgan was aflame with indignation. “I have one favor
to ask of you, sir, which is never to mention that detestable subject
to me again; for under no other man than Washington as
commander-in-chief would I ever serve.”
Vain was the attempt to ignore the services of Morgan and his regiment
in the campaign against Burgoyne! The omission of his name by Gates in
the dispatches should be supplied by the mighty pen of his grateful
countrymen, and writ large, in letters of gold, upon the imperishable
annals of the Republic. His enemies paid homage to his gallantry. An
incident occurred at this time, as related by Lee in his Memoirs,
which illustrates the resentment of Gates towards Morgan and
demonstrates how unworthy and undeserved was his malice. Shortly after
the rejection by Morgan of General Gates’ proposition to join the
“Conway Cabal,” Gates gave a dinner to the principal officers of
Burgoyne’s army. The principal officers of the American army were also
present. But Morgan was not invited. Having occasion to seek an
interview with General Gates before the entertainment was concluded,
the British officers, observing the noble mien and soldier-like
carriage of Morgan and that he wore the uniform of a field officer,
made inquiries concerning his identity immediately upon his
withdrawal. When informed that he was Colonel Morgan, of the Rifle
Regiment, they arose to a man, and overtaking him in the road
severally introduced themselves and declared their admiration for his
bravery and skill as a commander.
After the surrender, Colonel Morgan, by express command of General
Washington, marched southward to join him. The commanderin-chief was
then operating on the Hudson and in New Jersey and Pennsylvania and
was anxious to avail himself of the remarkable talents of Morgan,
whose Rangers were now become the _elite_ rifle-corps of the army. To
follow him in all of his engagements while under the immediate command
of Washington would prolong this address beyond the limitations which
patience and the conventions prescribe. No undertaking having for its
object the success of the American cause was too hazardous, no service
too difficult for him to perform. It was during this period that
developed those intimate personal relations between Colonel Morgan and
General Lafayette which continued through life and which is
affectionately manifested in the correspondence of the polished
Marquis with his unaccomplished friend. In a letter from Fishkill,
November 28, 1778, Lafayette, in thanking Morgan for the friendship
and good opinion he expressed for him on the eve of his departure for
France, said: “Both are extremely dear to my heart; and I do assure
you, my dear sir, that the true regard and esteem and the sincere
affection you have inspired to me, will last forever.
* * * * *
“Farewell, my dear sir, don’t forget your friend on the other side of
the great water, and believe me ever,
“Your affectionate,
“LAFAYETTE.”
But while he was held in the highest esteem by his superior officers and
had rendered extraordinary services to his country, Congress ignored him
in dispensing its favors and continued to promote over his head men of
smaller talents who had friends at court. Finally he determined to
resign. Not even the influence of Washington, once his mind had been
formed, was powerful enough to dissuade him from his purpose. Early in
July, 1779, he presented a laudatory letter from Washington to Congress
and offered his resignation. It was accepted, and the war-worn hero
mounted his horse and rode homeward to the verdant valley of the
Shenandoah. Greatly was his departure regretted in the army. In a letter
to him dated “Haverstraw, Nov. 9, 1779,” General John Neville, then an
officer in Woodford’s brigade, said: “Then, say they, for old Morgan a
brigadier, and we would kick the world before us. I am not fond of
flattery; but I assure you, on my word, that no man’s ever leaving the
army was more regretted than yours, nor no man was ever wished for more
to return.”
For fifteen months he remained with his family, a close student of
passing events in the progress of the war. The attention of the British
was now directed towards the South and Morgan was filled with
apprehension by the preparations being made to bring it under British
subjection. Leading three thousand fresh troops from New York,
Cornwallis had arrived near Charleston to take command in that section.
So rapid and effective were his operations that on the 12th day of May,
1780, when he was ready to assault the town by land and water, General
Lincoln signed a capitulation of the city and surrendered his army. By
the end of June, the British commander was able to report that he had
put an end to all resistance in South Carolina and Georgia; and that in
accordance with his plan of operations, he would after the September
harvest reduce the province of North Carolina, continue his march to the
Chesapeake, and from that base conquer the province of Virginia.
Disregarding the wishes of Washington, Congress on the 13th day of June
unanimously named General Gates, instead of General Greene, to succeed
Lincoln in command of the Southern Department. It proved to be one of
the saddest blunders of the war.
In receiving this independent command, Gates was instructed to report
directly to Congress and not to the commander-in-chief. He was
authorized to appoint his own staff-officers; to address himself
directly to Virginia and to the States north of it for supplies; and to
engage his army in such manner for the defense of the South as his
judgment alone should approve. Ambitious as Lucifer, and vain by nature,
this mark of great distinction—bestowed in spite of the known opinion of
Washington concerning its unwisdom—gave Gates unlimited confidence in
his abilities. Miscalculating the fighting strength of his “grand army,”
two thirds of which consisted of raw militia from the various provinces
that had never been paraded together, he marched against the best
disciplined troops in the world, led by Cornwallis, at Camden, and
suffered a defeat which demoralized the entire South, deprived him of
his command and terminated his military career. “Two thirds of the army
ran like a torrent,” he wrote, forgetting to add that he ran with them
and did not quit running until he arrived, ahead of the fleetest of the
fugitives, at Hillsborough, North Carolina, two hundred miles
away—making the distance in the splendid time of three and one half
days!
[Illustration:
MAJOR JOHN W. BOURLET.
Of Concord, N. H.
Many years in charge of the printing and publishing of the volumes of
the Society.
Deceased, January 19, 1910.
]
At this juncture, Cornwallis was the most conspicuous figure in the
British Army in America. Already “the pride and delight” of Lord George
Germain, his successes vindicated the opinion which that minister
entertained of his military talents, and he was now designed by the
Cabinet to supersede Clinton as commander-in-chief—being considered “the
one man on whom rested the hopes of the ministry for the successful
termination of the war.” Proud of this favoritism on the part of the
Cabinet and conscious of the hopes and expectations of the King,
Cornwallis began preparations for his northward march. Success had
elated him. He believed he would swing from victory unto victory until
he had brought all of the people south of the Delaware again under the
dominion of the crown.
He began the work of subjugation by inaugurating a reign of terror not
excelled in point of barbarity in the annals of civilized warfare. After
his victory at Camden, he erected a gibbet, and began the summary and
indiscriminate execution of those among his prisoners who had formerly
received their parole. He gave stringent orders to his subordinates to
imprison all who refused to enter the British Army and thus became the
instrument of their own subjection. The confiscation of property and the
destruction of life assumed hideous forms. “South Carolina,” says
Bancroft, “was writhing under the insolence of an army in which every
soldier was licensed to pillage, and every officer outlawed peaceful
citizens at will.” The gold and silver plate and other valuables divided
amongst the victors at the fall of Charleston amounted in value to a
million and a half dollars, the dividend of a major-general alone being
four thousand guineas. Cold-blooded assassinations by men holding the
King’s commission, often in the presence of the wives and children of
the helpless victims, were frequent. No engagements by capitulation were
respected. Woodsmen in their rude cabins were suddenly surrounded and
put to death, not because they were in arms against the King, but
because they were not in arms for him. The tomahawking in June, 1777, of
poor Jane McRae by one of the two Indians in the British service who
were escorting her under British protection from Fort Edward, New York,
to her expectant betrothed in the British lines, and who quarreled over
the reward promised for her safe arrival, found a fitting complement
three years later in South Carolina when Colonel Tarleton, of His
Majesty’s service, personally beat the wife of a general officer of the
Continental army because of his activity in the cause of his country.
Equalling this villainy, Lord Rawdon, one of Cornwallis’ commanders on
the Santee, who had found great difficulty in forcing his Irish Regiment
to fight against the American patriots, issued an order dated July 1,
1780, in which he said: “I will give the inhabitants ten guineas for any
deserter belonging to the volunteers of Ireland and five guineas only if
they bring him in alive.”
To the disgrace of the ministry of Lord North, these practices were not
only known to but were approved by the Cabinet. Indeed, they met the
“hearty and repeated applause” of those charged with the conduct of the
war, Germain declaring in orders to Clinton that “no good faith or
justice is to be expected from them and we ought in all our transactions
with them to act upon that supposition.”
Such was the temper of the British and such was the condition of the
people of South Carolina when Cornwallis moved forward.
The army was in three divisions—the main body under Cornwallis, at
Camden; Tarleton’s Legion, at Winnsborough; and the Brigade of
Provincial troops under Major Ferguson, at Post Ninety-Six. It was at
this time that Morgan again took the field. The defeat of Gates at
Camden had stirred his patriotism to its very depths. In the distress of
his country he buried all resentment of the ill-treatment he had
received from both Gates and the Congress—the hardy warrior again drew
his sword. And Gates with his pride humbled and his heart filled with
humility by adversity, desiring to retrieve his fallen fortunes,
resolved upon giving Morgan an independent command. The British began
their march in the second week of September—a delightful season in the
southern clime, perhaps the loveliest of the year. The earlier cereals
had yielded to the sickle, and the sheaves, standing like mute sentinels
in the field, had been bound by the reapers. The maize was nearly ripe.
Supplies for the troops were plentiful. Indeed, the proud Cornwallis had
no thought of care for his army that did not dissolve in the kindling
prospect of glory and renown.
In the opinion of Bancroft, the ablest British partizan officer at that
time in America was Major Patrick Ferguson, in command of the left
division of the army. He was ordered to enlist as he passed northward,
the young loyalists who had fled to the mountains for security and those
fugitives whose love of plunder would find indulgence and protection
under the British standard. House-burners and assassins, plunderers and
wrongers of women and children, were massed in his command. But neither
Ferguson nor his desperate troops were fated much longer to pillage,
burn and kill. At King’s Mountain, on the 7th day of October, the
backwoodsmen from the Virginia mountains, the commands of Isaac Shelby
and John Sevier, the men from North Carolina under McDowell and
Cleaveland—all by common consent under the command of the redoubtable
Virginian, William Campbell, a brother-in-law of Patrick Henry—every man
armed with his own rifle and riding his own horse, determined to avenge
the wrongs which they and their kinsmen had suffered at the hands of the
British troops. A bloody battle was fought and Ferguson was pierced
through the heart. His entire command was captured.
Six days after this event, on the recommendation of Thomas Jefferson,
Governor of Virginia, and John Rutledge, the great chief magistrate of
South Carolina, Congress appointed Daniel Morgan a Brigadier-General in
the army of the United States. The news of the death of Ferguson and the
surrender of his army at King’s Mountain reached Cornwallis on the march
from Charlotte to Salisbury. The destruction of one-third of his army,
at a single blow, and the death of his ablest commander were reverses as
stunning as they were unexpected. His fears were at once aroused for the
safety of the posts in his rear, now being constantly menaced by Marion
and Sumpter.
He first halted. Then he retreated. Determining to reinforce his army,
before resuming his march, with the three thousand men under General
Leslie at Portsmouth, Virginia, he ordered that officer to join him by
way of Charleston. He recrossed the Catawba and posted himself at
Winnsborough on the 29th day of October, intending to await the coming
of Leslie. On the 4th day of December, 1780, General Nathaniel Greene
succeeded General Gates in command of the American army in camp at
Charlotte. And now began the series of stirring events which culminated
in the most remarkable and surprising battle of the war and the
destruction of the second division of Cornwallis’ proud army.
The whole American force at this time did not exceed two thousand men,
only eight hundred of whom were regulars. It was an army almost entirely
devoid of necessary equipment. It had no tents and few wagons; it was
badly armed and its supply of ammunition was short. Its men were almost
naked, with not more than three days’ provisions in store. General
Greene’s orders, under these circumstances, were as necessary as wise—he
determined to divide his force into two bodies and post them on the
right and left flanks of the British. Under his own command, the main
body was to occupy a position on the Pedee River; while a detachment
under General Morgan was to operate between the Broad and Pacolet. The
detachment under Morgan consisted of five hundred and eighty men in
all—three hundred and twenty-eight light infantry, two hundred Virginia
militia and about eighty cavalry. They were put in motion on the 20th of
December, 1780, for the country between the rivers I have just named.
Greene offered him wagons. He refused them as being incompatible with
the nature of light troops. When Cornwallis learned of Morgan’s
movement, he misinterpreted it to mean an attack on the British post
called Ninety-Six. On the 2d day of January, 1781, Cornwallis addressed
this familiar note to Tarleton, which is indicative of the close
personal relations existing between the parties to it, as well as the
wholesome respect they had for Morgan:
“DEAR TARLETON: I sent Haldane to you last night, to desire you would
pass Broad River with the legion and the first battalion of the 71st
as soon as possible. If Morgan is still at Williams’, or anywhere
within your reach, I should wish you to push him to the utmost. I have
not heard, except from McArthur, of his having cannon, nor would I
believe it, unless he has it from very good authority. It is, however,
possible, and Ninety-Six is of so much importance that no time is to
be lost.
“Yours sincerely,
“CORNWALLIS.”
Tarleton promptly obeyed these instructions and was soon in possession
of sufficient information to warrant him in assuring Cornwallis that
Ninety-Six was in no immediate danger from Morgan. He then conceived and
proposed to Cornwallis the plan of operations against Morgan which ended
in the celebrated battle which we commemorate tonight and immortalized
the name and fame of the big raw-boned boy with the Irish brogue who
came to the Valley of Virginia in 1755 “out of the land of
God-knows-where”!
That plan contemplated a joint movement against Morgan on the part of
Tarleton and Cornwallis by which they would compel him “either to fight,
disperse across the mountain or surrender.” It was at once approved.
Cornwallis sent Tarleton a reinforcement of two hundred and fifty men
and on the 7th of January put the main body in motion to act in
conjunction with him. On the 16th day of January Cornwallis reached
Turkey Creek. Filled with anxiety lest Greene should attack and defeat
the troops under Leslie, and having no doubt that the dashing Tarleton
with his superior numbers would defeat Morgan if he overtook him,
Cornwallis determined to await at Turkey Creek until General Leslie
joined the main army. It was a fatal decision. Not more than twenty-five
miles away was about to be enacted the tragedy to the British arms, in
which a rude and untutored genius, commanding undisciplined woodmen
half-naked and half-starved, was matched against an educated and
accomplished officer in command of regular troops greater in number,
well-fed, well-conditioned, and as thoroughly disciplined as any troops
in the world. The beginning of the end of British authority over
American soil was at hand.
Through his superior system of scouts and their knowledge of woodcraft,
Morgan was always thoroughly informed of the movements of his enemies.
The orders of General Greene required him to hold his ground as long as
he possibly could and not to dispirit the inhabitants by a retreat
unless it were a necessity to save his troops from destruction or
capture. But the time had now come for him to retire in haste before the
British or to give battle to Tarleton before Cornwallis could join him.
With a noble confidence in his troops, Morgan determined to fight. He
made his camp on the night of January 16, 1781, two miles from a
grazing-ground for cattle known as the Cowpens, sixteen miles from
Spartansburg, South Carolina, and five miles from the North Carolina
line. The news that he had determined to give battle to Tarleton was
received by his men with exclamations of joy. He knew the enemy’s
strength was superior to his own—that the British infantry embraced
twice his number and the cavalry three times the little force under his
command. He knew the advantage of the British because of their
artillery. But he was unafraid. Against the superiority of numbers, he
placed the skill of his riflemen and their zeal to punish an enemy who
had wantonly inflicted upon them and their kinsmen and kinswomen
personal wrongs of the most grievous character. But above all, he placed
their love of country and a willingness to die in its defense.
“The night before the battle,” says Major Thomas Young in Orion, Vol.
III., page 88, “he went among the volunteers, helped them to fix their
swords, joked them about their sweethearts, and told them to keep in
good spirits, and the day would be ours. Long after I laid down, he was
going about among the soldiers encouraging them, and telling them that
the ‘Old wagoner would crack his whip over Ben (Tarleton) in the
morning, as sure as he lived.’ ‘Just hold up your head, boys,’ he would
say, ‘three fires and you are free! And when you return to your homes,
how the old folks will bless you and the girls will kiss you for your
gallant conduct.’ I don’t think he slept a wink that night.”
It is as far beyond my purpose, Mr. President, as it is beyond my
ability, to describe the action which began at sunrise on the 17th day
of January, 1781, and ended at “two hours before noon.” In the judgment
of Bancroft, Morgan was at this time the “ablest commander of light
troops in the world,” and I content myself with saying that on that
bloody but happy day his disposition of his troops, his personal
bravery, and the result which attended it, all, all confirm the
pronouncement of the great historian. The battle was fought in an open
wood, “affording to the movements of an army all the facilities of a
plain.” Tarleton himself declared it to be “as proper and convenient a
place for an action as he could desire.” It resulted in an American loss
of twelve killed and sixty wounded. Of the enemy, “ten commissioned
officers were killed and more than a hundred rank and file; two hundred
were wounded; twenty-nine commissioned officers and more than five
hundred privates were taken prisoners besides seventy negroes.” Two
standards, upward of a hundred dragoon horses, thirty-five wagons, eight
hundred muskets and two field pieces were also captured. The British
army was practically destroyed—the fragment which survived, with the
flying Tarleton at their head, being driven pell-mell in ignominious
flight to the main body at Turkey Creek. Thus again, by a single blow,
was another third of Cornwallis’ proud army annihilated.
The fame of this surprising victory spread throughout the country.
Greene announced it to the army in general orders, saying the victors
were “the finest fellows on earth, more worthy than ever of love.” The
governors of the Southern States made proclamation of the event. The
Commonwealth of Virginia, in the plenitude of her gratitude, voted
Morgan a house and sword as a testimonial of “the highest esteem of his
country for his military character, so gloriously displayed.” From
Charlotte, under date of January 21, 1781, the gallant General Davidson,
who was so soon to yield his life in resisting Cornwallis’ passage of
the Catawba, sent Morgan a note by “Parson McCaully” extending his
“warmest congratulations on the late glorious victory,” and saying “you
have, in my opinion, paved the way for the salvation of the country.”
Greene wrote him from Camden August 20, 1781: “The people of this
country adore you.” “Great generals are scarce—there are few Morgans to
be found.” From Montok Hill, August 15, 1781, while Morgan was
recuperating his health, Lafayette wrote: “My dear Friend: I have been
happy to hear your health was better. I hope the springs will entirely
recover it; and then, my dear sir, I shall be happier than can be
expressed, at seeing you with the army. You are the general and the
friend I want.” In the Congress, a resolution was adopted placing on
record on behalf of the people of the United States “the most lively
sense of approbation of the conduct of Morgan and the men and officers
under his command.” It ordered that a medal of gold be struck and
presented to him in commemoration of the gratitude of his countrymen. It
attempted to sum up his merit in three words: “_Virtus unita valet._”