I' .' : 1 ^ THE LIFE OP NATHANIEL GREENE, MAJOR-GENEraL IN THE ARMY OF THE REYOLl^TION. EDITED BY W. GILMORE SIMMS, Esq., AUTHOR OF "LIFE OF MARION," " CAPT. JOHN SMITH," ETC. NEW YOKK: DERBY & JACKSON, 498 BROADWAY. 1861. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1849, By GEORGE F. COOLEDGE & BROTHER, hi th«> Clerk's Office of the Disti-ict Court of the United States, in and for the Southern District of New York. •TEREOTYPED BY C. C. SAVAO», 13 Ciiambera Street, N. Y. ^ C'fr ADVERTISEMENT In examining and revising for the publishers the man- uscript of the present work, the editor has consulted nearly all the volumes which promised to have any bear- ing upon the subject. He has had before him the copi- ous biographical sketches of Johnson, and the several volumes of Lee, Ramsay, Moultrie, Marshall, Tarleton, Graydon, and others, not forgetting the very graceful memoir of Greene, from the pen of his grandson, recently published in the collection of Sparks. In ref- erence to the latter writer, he begs leave to express the hope that he will persevere in the intention of giving to the public a more elaborate performance on the same subject. There is much that is obscure in the history, much that is provocative of discussion, and needing to be discussed, which the nan*ow limits of a duodecimo must necessarily exclude. Who better prepared than himself to do justice to the great public services and private worth of his grandsire ] CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. I»troductory. — Famfly of Greene. — Hia Early Education. — Occupation. — Studies. — Intimacies. — Resolution and Strength of Character • paor t CHAPTER n. Youthful Habits. — Parental Discipline. — Progress from Books to Poli- tics. — Military Studies and Marriage 20 CHAPTER HI. Bvttle of Lexington. — Rhode Island Army of Observation. — Greene its General. — Is made a Brigadier in the Continental Service. — Com- mands on Long Island. — Raised to the Rank of Major-General. — Fort Lee. — Fort Washington. — Retreat through New Jersey. — Battles of Trenton and Princeton 30 CHAPTER IV. Thft Army in Winter Quarters. — Greene sent on a Mission to Con- gress, — Explores the Highlands. — Manoeuvres of the British. — Greene in Command of a Division. — Conspicuous in the Battle of Braudywine — and in that of Germantown. — Sent against Comw^allis. — Retires with the Army upon Valley Forge 45 CHAPTER V. Greene becomes Quartermaster-General. — The British evacuate Phila- delphia. — Pursued by Washington. — The Battle of Monmouth. — The Conduct of Greene in that Battle. — Joins Sullivan in an Attempt on Newport — Engiges the British. — Retires before them on the Approach of Clinton -• >M CHAPTER VL Greene defends Sullivan for the Afiair in Rhode Island. — Difficnlties with Congress in regard to the Duties of Quartermaster-GeneraL — Anecdote of his Brother. — Resigns from his Office, and offends Congress. — Debates in that Body. — Greene oommajids at the Battle of Springfield 7P CONTENJ S. CHAPTER VII. Deuion8trations on New York. — Treason of Arnold. — Greene appointed to the Post at West Point.— Gates's Defeat. — Greene succeeds him in Command of the Southern Army. — Proceeds to the South. — Joins the Army at Charlotte, N. C. — Treatment of Gates - - - 97 CHAPTER VIII. Glimpse of the past Progress of the War in the South. — Condition of the Country and of the Army when Greene takes Command. — His Difficulties — Resources — Policy. — Moves from Charlotte to Pee Dee. — Marion's Movements. — Cornwallis. — Morgan. — Tarleton pursues Morgan. — Is defeated at the Cowpens 110 CHAPTER IX. Morgan's Retreat before Cornwallis. — Greene joins him on the Cataw- ba. — Condition of the American Army. — Militia collects under Da- vidson. — British pas.s the Catawba. — Death of Davidson. — Morgan Retreats. — Passes the Yadkin. — Skirmish with the Rearguard. — An- ecdote of Greene 132 CHAPTER X. ■Continued Pursuit of the Americans by Cornwallis. — Greene medi- tates a Stand at Guilford. — Condition of his Army. — Continues the Retreat through North Carolina. — Deludes Cornwallis, who pursues a Detachment under Williams, while the main Army of the Ameri- cans crosses the River Dan in security 144 CHAPTER XL I'^e Armies watch each other. — The Militia collect under Pickens and Caswell. — Cornwallis retires upon Hillsborough. — Greene re- crosses the Dan. — Pickens and Lee operate successfully upon the British Detachments.— Sanguinary Defeat of Loyalists under Pyles, and Pursuit of Tarleton Ifil CHAPTER XIL Strategies of the two Armies. — Cornwallis surrounded by the Partisans. —Their Activity and Audacity.— He attempts to elude them, and cut Greene oflF from his Detachments. — He pursues Williams, who es- capes him. — Cornwallis retires, and Greene prepares for Action • 173 CHAPTER XIIL The Battle of Guilford.— Its Vicissitudes.— Duel between Colonel Stu- art and Captain Smith.— Slaughter among the Guards.— Retreat of the Americans ... 183 CONTENTS. 7 CHAPTER XIV. Comwallis Retreats — Is pursued by Greene — Escapes. — His Condition, and that of the Americans. — Greene's Policy. — Discontinues the Pursuit of Comwallis — Marches to South Carolina — Appears before Camden — and offers Battle to Lord Raw don 199 CHAPTER XV. Comwallis pursues his Route to Virginia. — The Partisan Warfare in Carolina. — Marion. — Captures Fort Watson. — Greene's Move- ments. — Raw don marches out from Camden and gives him Battle. — Battle of Hobkirk's Hill 213 CHAPTER XVI. Rawdon attempts the Camp of Greene. — Evacuates and destroys Camden. — Capture of Fort Motte and other Posts by the Partisans. — Rawdon at Monk's Corner. — Marion takes Georgetown — Pickens Augusta. — Greene besieges Ninety-Six — Attempts to storm it, and is defeated with Loss 225 CHAPTER XVn. Greene retreats from Ninety-Six. — Is pursued by Rawdon. — The latter evacuates Ninety-Six, and retires toward the Seaboard. — Greene turns upon and pursues him. — Various Movements of the Armies. — Rawdon at Orangeburg. — Greene offers him Battle. — He declines it •—Is strengthened by Cruger, and Greene retires and encamps among the High Hills- of Sautee 243 CHAPTER XVIIL Incursion of the Partisans under Sumter into the Lower Country. — Capture of Dorchester. — Alarm in Charleston. — Attempt on the Post at Biggins. — Abandoned by the British. — Pursuit of Coates. — Affair at auinby Bridge.— Battle at Shubrick's 2£8 CHAPTER XIX. The Campof the Hills.— Greene's Army and his Labor.— The Capture and Execution of General Hayne. — Excitement of Greene and the Camp. — Retaliation threatened. — Stuart in Command of the British Army.— Successes of American Cavalry. — Greene's Army in Motion. —Retreat of Stuart.— Takes Post at Eutaw.— Greene approaches - 269 CHAPTER XX. Battle of Eutaw Springs 288 CHAPTER XXL The American Army retires to the Hills of the Santee.— Its Condition and that of the British. — The Movements of the Partisans. — Stuart at Wantoot— The Fall of Comwallis.— The Hopes it inspired.— Their Disappointment. — Greene marches for the Edisto. — Rapid Approach to Dorchester. — Flight of the Garrison.— Stuart Retreats. — Alarm in the British Army. — The Americans take Post on the Round O. - '^fi^ 8 CONTENTS. CHAPTER XXII. American Attempt on the British Post at John's Island. — Its Failure. — Second Attempt. — Withdrawal of the Garrison. — The Legislature assembles at Jacksonborough. — Its Character. — Governor Rutledge. — His Speech. — Compliments Greene. — Address of the Senate and House of Representatives to Greene. — The latter Body votes him Ten Thousand Guineas. — Liberality of Georgia and North Carolina - 313 CHAPTER XXIIl. The State of the Army. — Wayne's Victories in Georgia. — Discontents among the Troops of Greene. — Treachery of Soldiers of the Pennsyl- vania Line. — Their Detection and Punishment. — Continued Distress and Sickness of the Army. — Movements of the British. — Marion defeats Fraser. — Affair on the Combahee. — Death of Laurens. — Pickens ponisbes the Tories and the Indians • - • • 32S CHAPTER XXIV. Greene's Necessities. — He resorts to Impressment. — The British pre- pare to evacuate Charleston. — That Event lakes place on the 14th of December, 1782. — The American Army enter the City. — Their Reception. — The Joy of the Inhabitants. — Condition of Public Affairs in Carolina. — Discontents and Difficulties. — Sufferings of the Army. — Mutiny. — Army Disbanded. — Greene revisits the North. — His Re- ception by Congress. — His Monetary Difficulties. — Greene returns to Carolina - - - - 337 CHAPTER XXV. His Removal to Georgia. — Challenged by Captain Gunn. — He declines the Challenge. — The Extent, Prospect, Peace, and Beauty of his Domains. — His Sickness and Death. — Public Sorrow and Honors on this Event. — His Character. — Conclusion 351 APPENDIX. Southern Army. — A Narative of the Campaign of 1780, by Colonel Otho Holland Williams, Adjutant-General 359 A Narrative of Events relative to the Southern Army subsequent to the Arrival of General Gate's broken Battalions at Hillsborough, 1760 - 383 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. CHAPTER I. Introductory. — Family of Greene. — His Early Education. — Occupation.— Studies. — Intimacies. — Resolution and Strength of Character. The events which brought about the separation of the American colonies of Great Britain from the mother- country, have, somewhat improperly, we think, gone un- der the general name of revolution. We should prefer to substitute for this word, that o^ transition, as denotinsT a natural progress in history, rather than such an ex- treme and violent change as is implied by the term in most familiar use. To the thoughtful and philosophic mind there was nothing extreme or improbable — nothing which the political seer might not readily have foreseen — in the progress of opinion and necessity, in America, to that final action which severed the ungenial lig'aments, which, from ties had grown into bonds, by which the col- onies were united to the mother-country. Their gi'owth and population, the gradually unfolding resources of their territories, the embarrassments which attended their po litical intercourse with Great Britain, the pecuniary ex^ actions ®f the parent empire, and, ahove all, the humiliar 10 LIFE OF NATllANAEL GREENE. ting character of the relation in which they stood to a country which claimed to govern them from abroad, and by those who were not indigenous to the soil — subject- ing the native mind to a denial at once degrading to its character, and ruino is to the national interests — were sufficient reasons by which the separation could have been and was foreshown. The emancipation of the Americans from foreign rule, was the natural conse- quence of increasing numbers, and enlarged intelHgence. The infant had grown into manhood. It was capable of going alone ; and the impulse which sundered the leading-strings by which its movements were confined, was the fruit of a simple progi'ess, step by step upward, to the possession and the exercise of a natural and inev- itable strength. It was the great good fortune of the Americans that such was the case in their history — that there was no abrupt or premature outbreak which would have found them too weak for a struggle, which, under such a circumstance, would only have served to rivet their bands more firmly, and prolong the term of their endurance. This must have been the event had their history been that of a revolution — a change rather than a progress. But the progress found them prepared with all the necessary resources. Their numbers were not inadequate to the struggle ; the intelligence of the peo- ple made the necessity for it a familiar and expanding thought ; and, when, in course of time, they could evolve from their own ranks, statesmen and warriors who were capable of their government as an independent nation, it was permitted, as in the case of the Israelites — when they could boast of prophets, like Moses and Aaron, equal to any of the Egyptian magi — that they should be conducted out of bondage. Wlien Virginia could pro- duce such great men as Washington, Patrick Henry, and Jefferson ; Massachusetts, Hancock and Adams ; and THE FAMILY OF GREENE. 11 Carolina, lier Marions, Moultries, and Rutledges — there was surely no proper necessity to look to a foreign country for the sage or soldier. It is the curious and conclusive fact in our history, at the beginning of the struggle for independence, that it found all the colonies in possession of some one or more remarkably endowed persons to whom the conduct of their affairs in coun- cil, and of their honor in th& field, might be confided safely. Among the men thus constituting the mcial stock of character with which the great national move- ment was begun, it is the boast of Rhode Island to have made one of the most valuable contributions, in the per- son of Nathanael Greene. The family of Greene was English. It left the old for the new world somewhere in the seventeenth cen- tury, one branch of the family settling at Plymouth, whence it subsequently removed to Providence river; while the other established itself in the township of War- wick, upon lands procured from the Narraganset Indi- ans. Here, upon the banks of the stream which still bears the aboriginal name of Potowhommett, Nathanael Greene, the third in descent from John, the original set- tler, built himself a mill and forge. The occupation of the blacksmith seems to have been in no wise detrimen- tal to the social position of the family. They were among the first European settlers of the countiy; their career was marked by usefulness, and was not without its distinctions. John Greene, the founder of the family, was one of the colonists who appeared in the first per- manent organization of the province under the charter of Charles the Second, and others of its members rose to offices of dignity and trust in the administration of the affairs of the colony. In new settlements, which suffer from a thousand influences of which a high condition of civilization affords no just idea, the distinguishing merit of 12 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. the citizen must necessarily be his usefulness. He who, in such a condition of society, is prepared to meet and to overcome even its meanest necessities, is a benefactor, and in just degree with the importance of his sei-vice will be his social distinctions. Nathanael Greene, the sire, suflered accordingly no diminution qf rank when he graced his arms with a sledge-hammer ; and it is one of the honorable distinctions, in the descendant whose career is the subject of this volume, that he was duly taught to wield it also. The region in which this sway was maintained, on the waters of the Potowhommett, is still designated by filial pride, in connexion with this history; and the ancient mill itself, and the rude forge at which, father and son, the Greenes toiled, year by year, with praiseworthy perseverance, are still subjects of equal admiration and interest to all who delight in the upward rise of an ambition that founds its hopes entirely upon a compliance with the demands of duty. Here, too, stood the humble house of stone, a single story, in which Nathanael Greene, the subject of our memoir — the second of six sons by a second marriage — was born on the 27th of May, 1742. He was the fourth of eight sons whom the father raised to manhood. Of his infancy we know nothing. It was probably a some- what cheerless one. His mother died when he was yet a child ; and his father, as we may imagine, was some- thing of a Spartan, in the guise of a quaker preachei. This venerable man is represented as filling the pulpit with rare ability ; preaching with a force and eloquence, a simplicity and shrewdness, which continued to edify the meeting-house at East Greenwich for nearly forty years. The functions of a pastor, however earnestly orosecuted, found him in no degi-ee forgetful of, or indif- ferent to, the domestic stewardship. His boys followed him at the forge and at the farm, and accompanied him niS YOUTHFUL CIIARA TERISTICS. 13 to tho place of prayer, with the most unvarying regu- larity. He was a rigid disciplinarian — an authority that never once suffered itself to be disputed, without testing the strength of the offender by the certainty of the pun- ishment. Temperate and frugal himself, the training to which he subjected his boys — a training which was rather strict and rigid than severe — naturally produced similar habits among them ; and they passed, by a natural progress, as they acquired strength for these several employments, through all the labors of the mill, the forge, and the farm, until they grew into athletic young men, healthy and vigorous of person, and calm and reso- lute of mind. In one respect, the education which Greene afforded to his sons was perhaps deficient. His own lessons had been simply religious. Of books, he knew none but the Bible, and regarded the sacred vol- ume as superseding the necessity for every other. The humble elements of an English country-school, the les- sons of which were sought only during the short, bleak days of winter, were not materially calculated to modify the effects of this education, which accordingly impressed itself upon the whole character and career of the subject of our memoir, in a manner which could not be mistaken. Hence the simplicity of his habits, the equable tone of his mind, his straightforwardness and integi'ity, the style in which he wrote, and the inflexibility of his pui-pose. These characteristics, however decidedly his own, were not entirely at variance with a mood which was gentle in its nature, and a disposition to society and its pleas- antries. Young G-reene was not indifferent to the sports of youth. The strictness of his training, in all proba- bility increased their attractions in his eyes ; and good limbs and an athletic constitution enabled him to excel in the usual amusements of a rustic life. He was chief ntnong the actors in all rural sports ; a leader among the 14 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. revellers in all the wholesome and hearty enjoyments of the country; and quite an authority, at an early pe- riod, among his youthful associates, — proving clearly certain peculiar endowments in himself, which, by tacit consent, were admitted to have sway among their coun- cils. Rustic superstition contributed to confirm, this authority. His nativity was cast by a Doctor Spencer, who united the kindred professions of accouche:ir and astrologer ; and he predicted the future distinctions, dis- guised as usual in a happy generality, to which our hero was to attain. He was to be a mighty man in Israel. The prediction promised to be verified. The defer- ence which his young associates paid to his genius, extended to his stern and exemplary father. He was observed to yield to his wishes and opinions an attention which no other of the family could obtain. The natural ascendency of mind was felt in spite of the deficiencies of education. These deficiencies were of the extremesr kind, and continued until our subject was fourteen years It was then that he formed an intimacy with a lad named Giles, a student of the university of Rhode Island, who spent his vacation at East Greenwich. This boy, who was probably only a clever sophomore, awakened in the mind of young Greene all its latent ambition. He made him a discontent, by showing him that there were other lessons which wisdom might teach, of importance to the career of man, beyond those, however valuable in them- selves and vital, which took care of his spiritual inter- ests. It was from this moment — and from the lesson so caught up — that Greene began to direct his attention to the acquisition of books. The shelves of his friends were ransacked with the view to the satiation of this newly-aroused appetite. The labors of his hands were voluntarily increased, that he might procure means to purchase the precious volumes which he could not other- HIS STUDIES ENLARGED. 15 wise obtain. His usual sports were foregone ; the pleas- ures and toys of the child beguiled and satisfied him no longer ; he was no more a boy, but a student, appropri- ating every moment of leisure — nay, without waiting for the moment of leisure — but beside the anchor forge» or the hopper of the mil], wherever the occupation would permit of the indulgence, he sat or stood, book in hand, dividing his time jealously between the toils of necessity and the object of the passionate desires of his mind. This habit was not grateful to his father. He regarded it as a form of idleness, and perhaps, in some sort, as a profanity. Why should he want other books than the Bible'? That had been enough for M?n; and the self- esteem which made so large an element in the father's character, naturally resented the enlarged appetites of the son, as so much presumption. Bat, as the boy con- scientiously fulfilled all his duties — as neither indolence nor neglect of his tasks, nor slovenliness in their per- formance, could be charged upon him — the sire did not attempt to prevent him in the pursuit of his nev enjoyments. Gradually, the old man became so far reconciled to the earnest and noble perseverance of tho youth, as to consider the necessity of seeking for him a teacher of more capacity than had hitherto been thought sufficient for the pui-poses of education. He probably began to feel, in the influence which his son exercised upon himself and others, and in the extraordinary pas- sion which he betrayed for books, that he was really destined to a career very superior to that of the village blacksmith. Lessons in Latin and mathematics, were obt?»ined from a man named Maxwell, and young Greene soon formed a slight acquaintance with the ancients through one of their own tongues, and found himself most decidedly at home in the company of EucJid. Of geometry, in its application to navigation and surveying 16 LIFE OF NATHANIEL GREENE. he became a master; and his mind was now put doubly in possession of his materials, by being trained in their methodical management. Horace and Cesar were the favorites of his taste, and beguiled his imagination ; while Euclid furnished the necessary exercise for his thoroughly-awakened and sharper intellect. Thus, toil- ing equally in mind and body — rising to the labors of the forge when necessary, and sinking at every oppoi- tunity into the well-worn seat beside it, where he had hurriedly laid, down his book — he continued to increase his mental possessions, without forfeiting, as is so com- monly the case, any of the vigorous muscle, or admirable health and strength of body, which the sports and labors of his youth had enabled him to acquire. His knowledge of books, speaking comparatively, had greatly increased in the brief period since he had made the acquaintance of the sophomore. An event was now to occur, which should contribute greatly to the proper direction of those aims, which, however profitable in their acquisitions, as compared with the past, were yet somewhat deficient in method, organization, and singleness of purpose. A happy accident was to order and direct the somewhat desultory course of study which he had hitherto pursued. It was the custom of Greene, whenever his labors had afforded him the means to make any addition to his library, to visit Newport in search of a book. On these occasions, a little shallop, which was kepjt at the mills of Potowhommett, and sent periodically to Newport and other towns along the bay of Narraganset, with the manufactures of the mills, supplied the opportunity. Greene usually worked his passage when he visited the town, seeking a market for his wares, the product of his labors in his own time. It was on one of these voyages, made with this object, when he was about sev- enteen years old, that he hastened to a bookseller in FINDS A GUIDE TO KNG (7LEDGE. 17 Newport, prepared to lay out his petty earnings for a book. But what book 1 His knowledge of literature was quite too limited to suggest to him the name of the volume which should be most acceptable ; and when the bookseller naturally asked what book he wanted, he could only blush in his ignorance, and stand confused and silent before the inquirer. It happened that a third person was present on this occasion, and became inter- ested in the ingenuous confusion of the boy. This was Dr. Stiles, then a clergyman, and subsequently well known as president of Yale college. He regarded Greene with eyes of curiosity; and, in his appearance — his simple garb, begrimed possibly by the labors of the forge, and whitened by the mill — he conceived instantly the strug- gle which was in progress, of a naturally strong and well-endowed mind, contending with equal ignorance and poverty. He engaged the boy in conversation, and his impressions were confirmed. The conclusion was, that Stiles took the boy to his house, counselled and encouraged him, became his ally in the pursuit of learn- ing, and gave a proper direction to his tastes and studies. This help relieved him from all future embarrassment in seeking the means of knowledge. He had found something better than a teacher — he had found a guide ; and it now became the important object with our hero to revisit Newport as frequently as possible. His pro- cess for the attainment of this object was quite character- istic. He made himself a skilful boatman. He studied the navigation of the river. He was finally promoted to be ntister of the shallop ; and the bookseller of Newport four.d him frequently at his counter, gazing upon his shelves, with the look of one who asks himself, sighing ?ecretly the while, " Shall I ever be the owner of such a treasure as this V His private stock of books was cer- tainly a small one We know that he possessed the 18 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. Logic of Watts, Locke's famous Essay, the able volume of Ferguson, on Civil Society, and a few other stand- ard works, like these, of an educational character. That he spared no labor by which he might increase these treasures, may be inferred from the fact, that his heavy labors at the forge finally produced that lameness of the right foot which attended him through life ; while, to enable himself to pass from the coarse work of the forge to the manufacture of those finer fabrics on which his own perquisites chiefly depended, he has been known to grind off the callosities from his hands at the grind- stone, in order to give them the necessary pliancy and delicacy of touch ; and this when he was studying logic and philosophy! His visits to Stiles and Newport brought him to the knowledge of Lindley Murray. The latter was of a quaker family, as well as Greene, and was then on an excursion through the quaker settlements of the eastern colonies. A sympathy in their common objects of pur- suit brought the two young men closely together; and Murray accompanied Greene to Potowhommett, whore he so prevailed upon the father, that young Greene was permitted to return the visit the following winter to Murray in New York. The latter had been particularly well educated. His father, conscious of the unwise hostility or indifference of the quaker sect to all liberal studies, had done his best to make his son superior to all their prejudices. His acquisitions were naturally shared with Greene. We may be sure that the blacksmith and mill-boy, whom we have seen gi-inding down his fingers in order to acquire the means of knowledge, did not suffer the opportunity to escape for procuring it on more easy terms, and through the pleasant medium of fiiendship. It was while on this visit to New York that he gave a new proof of that decision of character, that INOCULATED WITH SMALL-POCK. 19 forethought and superiority over his associates and edu- cation, which were the distinguishing traits of his char- acter through life. The small-pock was prevailing with great severity in New York. Greene knew the super- stitious dread which was entertained in regard to this disease ; was aware of its real dangers ; and felt the importance of passing the crisis, at a moment when his mind could contemplate it calmly, and when it could not interfere with any pressing employments. He availed himself of the opportunity, to become inoculated with it, and a blemish in one of his eyes, which did not, how- ever, impair the sight, was the consequence. The pres- ent courage of the boy in this instance, saved him from all future apprehensions of a disease which continued to spread terror through the courilry. 80 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. CHAPTER II. Youthful Habits.— Parental Discipline.— Progress from Books to Politic8.-i Military Studies and Marriage. AVe have shown young Greene as a student. It will be admitted that the conditions of his career have been sufficiently arduous as well in letters as in war. But the mind most resolute on acquisition will yet need a respite from its toils. The body demands relief which no en- thusiasm of the intellect will be able entirely to with-- hold, particularly in the case of one, whose physique, like that of Greene, is well developed, and whose temper- ament is sanguine. We have seen that his boyish habit, in the matter of sport, was quite unquakerish — that ho loved, and usually led, in the recreations of his boyish mates. These early propensities did not desert him as he grew older, and in consequence of his newly-awa- kened passion for books. His character, though really sedate and temperate, was anything but morose. His tendencies were decidedly social. Though satisfied with a single meal per day, and indulging in no beverage more potent than a solitary cup of tea or coffee in the same space of time, yet there were some pleasures in which he was ever ready to indulge to a degi'ee which was apparently inconsistent with his ordinary habits. Rising at the dawn of day, and laboring at forge or farm while the day lasted — and sometimes, at his own labors, to a late hour in the night — it would seem only reasonable to suppose that he was glad when he could •'etire to his couch, and that he slept soundly as soon as he ELUDES HIS father's VIGILANCE. 21 touche.l the pillow. Such, for a time, was no doubt the opinion of his sober quaker father. But he was mista- ken. Young Greene was at an age when the heart par- ticularly needs society — when the instincts of the youth naturally incline to communion with the other sex, and when the impulses acknowledge few restraints of mind or body, of strength sufficient to keep them from the grati- fication of a favoiite desire. Greene's quaker education might have inculcated a sufficient hostility to dancing, to keep him from the exercise, but that, in its indulgence, it conducted him to female society. At eighteen or twenty the desire for such communion must be acknowl- edged as sufficiently legitimate for youth. It is, indeed, one of the securities of virtue. But the father of Greene was a quaker and not a philosopher. He made no allow- ance for such an appetite, and the son was very soon per- suaded that, if his passions were to be gratified in this respect, it could only be in the wholesome ignorance of his proceeding, in which he could keep the old gentle- man. The household was a very sober one. At a cer- tain hour doors and windows were to be closed and bolted, and all good boys were to be in bed. Young Green obeyed the requisition ; but when the father was safe in the arms of sleep, and in full faith that all his family were similarly disposed of, he might be seen let- ting himself down from the eaves, and speeding away to the happy places where his young associates were busy in the rustic dance. Thus, night after night, in the depth of winter, would he speed away from the silent home- stead, and mingle with the village revellers. His lame- ness was too slight to offer any serious obstacle to the inartificial movements of a country revel ; and, in thus affording to his limbs and blood the exercises which his nature found equally agi'eeable and necessary, he did noi forfeit in any degree, or impair the value, of his book 22 LIFE OF NATHA.N1EL GREENE. acquisitions. On these occasions he gave a free loose to a temperament which was at once impulsive and amia- ble ; and the usually sedate student, and laborious worker at hammer and hopper, proved as lighthearted as any of his neighbors. Before dawn, he was again at home, crowding with sleep the brief hours which were left him ere he should be summoned to his daily tasks. But there is a proverb that threatens the safety of any pitcher which goes too often to the well. Whether frequent es- cape had made young Greene careless, or whether he was betrayed by some hostile companion, it matters not; but the quaker sire had his suspicions awakened in re- gard to the practices of his son. To be told that the son whom he valued over all the rest, on whom he had be- stowed the best education, and to whom he fondly looked as his successor on the floor of the meeting-house, was guilty of such a profanity as dancing implied, was to awaken all his indignation, and to render him equally subtle and strict in his vigilance. He watched the move- ments of the youth, and was very soon in possession of the most ample proofs of the correctness of his suspicions. Greene, as usual, had stolen forth from the house when it appeared to be wrapt in slumber. The occasion was one of particular attractions. Thei*e was a gi'eat ball in the neighborhood, to which he had been secretly invited. He danced till midnight, the gayest of the gay, little dreaming of any misadventure. But when he drew nigh the homestead, his keen eyes discovered the person of his father, paternally waiting, whip in hand, beneath the very window through which alone he could find en- trance. There was no means of escaping him. The stem old quaker was one of that class of people who are apt to unite the word and blow together, the latter being quite likely to make itself felt before the other. In this emergency, conscious that there was no remedy IS FLOGGED BY HIS FATHER. 23 against, or rescue from the rod, young Greene promptly conceived an idea which suggests a ready capacity for military resource. A pile of shingles lay at hand, and before he supposed his father to behold his approach, he insinuated beneath his jacket a sufficient number of thin layers of shingle to shield his back and shoulders from the thong. With this secret corslet he approached and received his punishment with the most exemplary forti- tude. The old man laid on with the utmost unction, little dreaming of the secret cause of that hardy resignation with which the lad submitted to a punishment which was meant to be most exemplary. It is doubtful if the father obtained more than a tem- porary triumph. Greene could still indulge in his recre- ations, as before, and without lessening his capacity for duty and acquisition. His sports were never of a kind to interfere with his proper performances. They were the result of a necessity, such as belongs to all healthful bodies, where the nervous energies demand various means and opportunities for exercise. His irregularities were never of an animal kind, though, in the case of a less justly-balanced mind, the ascetic philosophy and regimen of the old quaker might have made them so. His temperament remained the same, though his studies were resumed. His library was gradually enlarging. Swift and other writers of what has been — improperly perhaps — entitled the Augustan age of English litera- tuie, became his favorite studies; and, upon the clear, direct, and manly style of the first-named author, he en- deavored to model his own. Nor did his mental desires limit themselves to literature only and philosophy. The Dossession of Blackstone and other legal writers — to the reading of which he was prompted by a law case of some difficulty which disturbed the repose of the family for some time, in consequence of the death of his two 94 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. brothers by the first marriage — opened to him a very fair knowledge of the principles of English law, and prompted his frequent attendance at the neighboring courts, where he formed an acquaintance with judges and lawyers, and listened with delight to their conflicts. In all these modes was he preparing, unconsciously, for that career of usefulness and fame through which he was yet to pass^ under the gradually-increasing discontents and troubles of the country. Here, too, he began, for the first time, to inform himself in politics. The village courthouse was the natural arena for those who loved to engage in political debate. Here it was, that young Greene began to study and to understand the true relations existing be- tween the colonies and the mother-country. This was U new and grateful field for a mind rather strong and shrewd than fanciful or imaginative — of tendencies wholly practical — sedate as well as inquiring, and not easily led away from the true objects of study by any of its collateral topics. He came, by degrees, to be a poli- tician as well as a lawyer. His father, however much he might be disposed to regard his son as erring in his tastes, was far from being insensible to his acquisitions. Our hero naturally as- cended to the second place to himself; and became, like himself, a strict disciplinarian in the household. His brothers were subjected to his authority ; and the whole family prospered under this administration. Old Greene had not only become the sole proprietor of the Poto- whommett mills, but had extended his domain by the purchase of another mill at Coventry. This was assigned to the management of our Nathanael. He was now in a measure his own master. His means were necessarily increased, and his library soon grew to a decent and well-chosen coUe-ction — large at that period — of nearly three hundred volumes. His active mind was not satip* BECOMES A POLITICIAN. 25 fied with the selfish concerns of the mill. He took part 171 the affairs of the community. Under his auspices the first public school was established in Coventry, and the eyes of his neighbors were already fixed upon him as one of those men, equally steadfast and intelligent, to whom they might properly turn in the moment of neces- sity or danger. He was now in his twenty-third year, with manners which were at once agreeable and digni- fied — intimate with most of the leading men of the neigh- borhood — on terms of familiar intercourse with the bench and bar of East Greenwich, the members of which were visiters at his father's house — and filled, in conse- quence of this position, with all the political excitements which naturally formed the habitual subject of discussion among such associates. To the examination of the great questions which now began to disturb the country, Greene bent all the energies of his mind. His quaker training was not permitted to defeat his present tenden- cies. It had not sufficed to restrain the courage and character of his ancestors, when they resisted the perse- cutions of the fanatical governor, Winthrop, of Massa- chusetts bay, when he declared war against the heretics, and sent his petty emissaries on a crusade after the stur- dy quaker Gorton ; and, if not sufficiently powerful to detain young Greene fi-om the rustic revels of his neigh- bors, even when illustrated by the heavy arm and horse- whip of his father, it would scarcely prove sufficiently imposing to keep a nature, so equally firm and eager, from the assertion of an argument on which depended alike the principles and the safety of the country. The discussion of the stamp-act found him ready to engage in politics with a hearty interest, such as might well be assumed as fatal to his quakerisra. In 1769, a king's cut- ter had been taken at Newport. Three years after wit' nessed the burning of the Gaspee, in Providence river. 2 26 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. Greene shared in the strong popular excitement on these occasions, and his expressions were of a nature which threatened to draw upon him the severities of govern- ment. But, escaping from this danger, he did not the less earnestly urge and maintain the sentiments which had provoked it ; and, with that foresight which marked his character, he now began a series of studies still more at variance with the precepts of the quaker, and with due reference to the approaching necessities of the coun- try. He added to his library several of the best military authors of the time, and attended the rude displays of the colonial militia, then in course of organization and disci- pline throughout the states. This last proceeding out- raged all the proprieties of quakerism. He was cited before the fathers of the sanctuary for this errantry. A committee was appointed to sit upon his case ; but he gave them no satisfaction. They were, however, unwil- ling to cut off the prodigal, and continued to visit and exhort him, until, in utter despair of his conversion from the errors of his ways, they read him, with a sad solem- nity, out of their books of brotherhood. He still pro- fessed himself a quaker, and cherished great esteem of the sect, but his faith was one that claimed privileges for its own, and his respect for the brethren did not prevent him from denouncing many of its professors for their hypocrisy. In 1770, Greene was elected to the general assembly of the colony. Such was his popularity, that, from this period, even after he took command of the army in the south, he continued to be chosen by his constituents. As a member of the legislature, without making any figure in debate, he commanded the respect of his asso- ciates for his integrity, his excellent and manly sense, and the general soundness of his juclgment. He seldom spoke ; but, when he did, it was always with effect, in a 27 clear, dignified, and unembarrassed manner, which com- manded the attention of the house. In cases of difficulty he was an understood authority, On committees of importance he was most usually employed. When en- voys were sent to Connecticut to concert measures for public defence, he was one of the delegates ; and here he had an opportunity of renewing his intimacy with his fi'iend Stiles, who had become the president of Yale. Doubtless, his rank would have been distinguished as a politician, but that his peculiar talent preferred another field of distinction. It was in 1774 that he threw off quakerism entirely, in putting on the habihments of the soldier. He enrolled himself as a member of a corps called the Kentish guards, contenting himself with being a private soldier, having failed to secure a lieutenancy. The Kentish guards were formed upon a favorite British model. The corps was composed of the most worthy of the neighboring yeomanry. In the war which fol- lov/ed, more than thirty of its members bore commis- sions. The time was pressing. Great Britain had thrown off the mask. Her determination was apparent : to coerce, rather than conciHate, the refractory colonies. The latter were equally ready to declare themselves. But the munitions of war were not to be had. Greene, in particular, had no firearms. They were not the usual furniture of a quaker family They could only be pro- cured in Boston. It was necessary to go thither. An old claim upon one of his father's customers, in that place, was the pretext for his departure; and the exter- nals of the quaker, the drab coat and the broad brim, suggested an adequate disguise for our adventurer in the prosecution of his real objects. At Boston, Greene first oeheld a parade of regulars. The British troops were then in possession of that city. Little did they suspect the motives or character of the s-trange?' youth, 28 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. who looked so innocent in his quaker trim. Closely and earnestly did he watch their evolutions, and carefully did he treasure up in his memory the few hasty military les- sons which he caught up from this survey. But he did not neglect the first object of his mission. He succeeded in buying a musket with all the necessary accoutrements ; and, with the aid of a wagoner, who buried the treasure in a heap of straw at the bottom of his wagon, he con- trived to smuggle it in safety beyond the gaiTison and guards of the enemy. He was successful in bringing with him to Coventry a treasure of still greater value, in a British deserter, an excellent drill-officer, to whom the Kentish guards were indebted for all that was val- uable in their discipline. The success of this enterprise secured for young Greene no small eclat among his com- panions. The musket thus procured is still preserved in the family. One would suppose, from the summary which we have given of his employments, that they were sufficiently various and absorbing to satisfy the impulse and restlessness of any nature. But the entei-prise which carried the young quaker abroad at midnight to the rustic charivari, in defiance of his father's discipline and horsewhip, had its special object, apart from the simple suggestions of a cheerful temperament seeking commu- nion of its fellows. The same year which found Greene enrolled among the military, found him enrolled in the ranks of another order. In July, 1774, he became the husband of Catharine Littlefield, at whose house he had chiefly indulged in his propensity for dancing. She was an exceedingly engaging damsel, of good family, and but eighteen years of age. His position in life might now be supposed thoroughly established. It is scarcely possible that he should any longer apprehend further parental discipline, now that he was a politician, a hus- band, and a member of the Kentish guards. It is the BECOMES A HUSBAND. Z*f responsibility, if anything, which makes the man. That Greene was sensible of this, is naturally to be inferred from the recognition of his claims by those around him. He was steadily rising in the estimation of his neighbois, and in the calm consciousness of his own claims, strength, and capacity. tfO LIFE OP NATUANAKL GRKllNE. CHAPTER IIL Battle of Lexington. — Rhode Island Army of Observation. — Greene iti General. — Is made a Brigadier in the Continental Service. — Commands on Long Island. — Raised to the rank of Major-Gcneral. — Fort Lee. — Fort Washington. — Retreat through New Jersey. — Battles of Trenton and Princeton. The preliminaries of the conflict were all cleared away in the battle of Lexington. Those who still doubted of the struggle, hoping against hope, were silenced in the thunders of the strife on that occasion. This affair took place in the spring of 1775. With the first tidings of the battle, the drum of the Kentish guards beat to arms. Already they were on their march to Boston, when the or- ders of the governor of the province recalled them to their homes. The governor was a loyalist. It is curious that, with a knowled^^e of this fact, the whior officers of the guards should have obeyed him. They did so, and the troops returned, all but four of them, who, procuring horses, went at full speed as volunteers for Boston. Of these four, Greene was one ; one of his companions was a brother; the remaining two were his most trusty friends. He arrived too late for service, but not for distinction. His resolute and independent proceeding opened the eyes of his comrades to his true claima. The people of Rhode Island were very soon afforded an opportunity of showing how gratefully his conduct on this occasion had impressed them. The assembly of the colony voted a force of sixteen hundred men, as an army of observation, to meet the approaching exigency. Its officers were to be ap« Greene's personal appearance, 31 pointed by the same body ; and, with a common consent, Nathanael Greene was raised to its command with the rank of major-general. The preparations for war were immediate. In a few days the troops were raised, the organization begun, and Greene had exchanged the quiet of the domestic homestead for the busy strifes and anxi- eties of camp. He had been married scarce a year, and had just attained the age of thirty-three. His personal appearance at this period is described as singularly com- manding and impressive. In height he was about five feet ten or eleven inches. His frame was athletic and symmetrical. His carriage was at once dignified, erect, and easy. His complexion was florid, and the general character of his face was that of manly beauty. His features were bold, without impairing their sweetness ; nor did the blemish of the right eye from the small-pock materially diminish the keen and lively fire with^ which it sparkled, when in conversation, in unison with the other. The general expression of his features was that of a placid thoughtfulness, indicative of a mind rather con- templative than passionate. His movements were free and elastic, and his military carriage totally unimpaired by the slight obstruction in the motion of the right leg, which was due to his too severe, but self-imposed labors, in early life. His manners were calm and thoughtful, rising into cheerfulness when his mood was unimpressed by anxiety, and becoming even playful when the charac- ter of his associates, and the circumstances in which he stood, permitted him to cast aside the habitual sense of his responsibilities and duties. With a good heart, a mind subdued to its situation, a confidence in self which grew naturally, and by quiet degrees, with his acquisitions of knowledge and society, the deportment of Greene was usually graceful and impressive. With a rare pli- ancy and without eff"ort, he could adapt nimself to the 32 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. iicle in which he moved ; and, whether serious or pleas- nt, could express himself with a facility which declared equally for the extent of his acquirements, his experience in tlie world, and the sound and excellent judgment which always informed his conversation. It was in May, 1775, that Greene took command of the army of Rhode Island. Several of the officers under him became, like himself, distinguished in the war which followed. Among these was Christopher Greene, the hero of Red Bank, and General Varnum. The cap- tain of the Kentish guards became a colonel in the new levies. It required but a very few days to render the command complete in point of numbers. The hardy yeomanry of Rhode Island turned out with a spirit which was unsurpassed by any of the colonies, and with which the zeal of very few could compare. Their train- ing and organization were no such easy matter. Greene himself had nearly everything to learn ; but he devoted himself with his usual industry and intelligence, and his acquisitions were extraordinary and rapid. His capacity for labor, the readiness with which he could bring mind and body to bear upon the necessity — all the fruit of his early habits of inquiry and toil — now stood him in admirable stead, and enabled him to compass, as by instinct, the knowledge which other men only acquire by the painful investigations and work of years. His mind was comparatively free to the one great duty which was before him. His father was no more ; and his brothers, harmoniously working together, might safely be intrusted with the business — the mills and forges — which formed the common property of the family. It was his good fortune, no less tlian his genius, which ren- dered it so easy for him to address his toils so entirely to the interests of his country. He soon qualified himself for the tasks which had LEAGUER OF BOSTON 3d oeen confided to him. Early in June, we find liim with his command engaged in the leaguer of Boston. The post assigned him, with his contingent, was Prospect hill; a conspicuous point, on which, in the event of an assault ft'om the enemy, he would be particularly exposed. To discipline his troops for any event, and to prepare them particularly for this, employed his whole time and thought. When Washington took the command of the army, in July, the troops of Greene were pronounced " the best disciplined and appointed in the whole army." The Rhode Island blacksmith had not been hammering at them in vain. The arrival of Washington was an event in tha careei of Greene. It afforded him one of the noblest acqui- sitions he had ever made — that of a friend, a model of the most perfect character that ever lived. The quick appreciative eye of the great Virginian discovered, in a moment, and distinguished by his favor and regard, the rare merits and talents of our subject. He a.t once took him into his confidence, and an intimacy grew up between them, almost from their first meeting, which was destined to ripen to a most perfect maturity, and to remain, without decay or rapture, to the last. It was Greene who, according to the usage of the time, wel- comed Washington to the army in a public address. The quarters of the commander-in-chief at Cambridge were near the post which had been assigned to the Rhode Island contingent. The opportunities for communion between the two generals were accordingly very fre- quent, and their sympathies did not allow them to go unemployed. The American army, soon after the arrival of Wash- ington, was placed on the continental establishment. The effect of this aiTangement was to reduce the rank of Greene from that of a major-general to that of a 2* 34 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. brigadier. This change, which was productive of much discontent with the other officers of the army whom it similarly affected, occasioned no complaint or repining with him. He modestly estimated his own claims as a military man, and cheerfully yielded to the arrangement which seemed to lessen their importance. His decision was probably influenced, in some degree, by his deter- mination to devote himself to a military life ; the change from the state to the national service being more than equal, in its advantages, to the loss of that rank which he held in the former. This descent in grade 'neces- sarily led to a change of his position in the siege of Boston. It brought him to the extreme left of the army, and in command of one of the brigades at Winter hill, the station nearest to the enemy. This station required Constant vigilance, but afforded no sufficient employment for a mind so habitually active as that of Greene. The opportunities for distinction were very few during the campaign. The British showed but little disposition for active encounter, and they attempted no enterprises The task of simply keeping them within their quarters ^^as irksome only, as it required no military virtues higher than those of vigilance and patience. The spirit was scarcely more active among the Americans. A council of war did meditate an attempt on Boston, in the event of the ice in the bay of Charlestown becoming sufficiently firm to bear the army ; and this resolve was of special disquiet to Greene, since it found him suffer- ing severely from the jaundice. He trembled on his sick bed lest the attempt should be made without him. But his resolution was taken, under any circumstances. " Sick or well," said he, *' I mean to be there." But the experiment was never made. Subsequently, when reparations were begun for making the attempt by water, Greene was assigned one of the two brigades. HIS POLICY AND PATRIOTISM. 3d fcur thousand each, of picked men, who were designed for the service. But this purpose failed, also. A med- itated assault of the British general, which might have afforded the Americans an opportunity for trying equally their courage and patiiotism, was abandoned in conse- quence of a sudden tempest, and, hastily embarking his troops, he evacuated Boston for New York. ^ The leaguer thus undistinguished by active opera tions, would have been wholly without profit to our Rhode Island general, but that he employed the year of inactivity in unremitted labors to improve the drill and organization of his biigade, and to inform himself in 3very branch of the service. His correspondence, begun at this period and continued to the close of the war, is in proof of his industry, the clearness and coolness of his mind, his habits of patient investigation, and the eagerness with which he addressed his thoughts to all of the great interests which belonged to the present and future condition of the country. He was superior to those selfish prejudices which made the New England troops so unwilling to leave their own precincts. "I am as ready," said he, " to seiTe in Virginia as New Eng- land.** The country was, in his eyes, a perfect whole ; its commerce a common property ; and its fortunes only secure in its continued and unselfish union. His opinions were largely national ; his views liberal and expansive. As early as June, 1775, he declared for an entire sep- aration from Great Britain, and urged a declaration of independence as absolutely essential, not only to the future prosperity of the country, but as the only process by which the present object, the support of the French nation, could possibly be secured. He had no hope of reconciliation with the mother-country, and his policy was against the measure. He argued on these topics with his usual earnestness and boldness; and his corrS' 36 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. spondence, embodying these and many other like opin« ions, on kindred subjects, wiitten at intervals snatched from more arduous employments, and during gi-eat suf- fering and sickness, while before Boston, shows equally the indomitable energies of his mind, and the unselfish- ness of his patriotism. He counselled the inoculation of the army, while the British forces were suffering from small-pock in Boston ; originated the hospital for the pur- pose at Coventry; and gave up his own house to the object. He urged the recognition nf one commander over all the forces in America, to be sent wherever the service should require ; the enrolment of a sufficient body of troops to be enlisted for the war; and many other measures of public policy; which, however much doubted and disputed in that day, are now tne settled axioms of ours. His letters, in which all these prop- ositions are discussed, are among the most valuable remains of our revolutionary correspondence. The removal of the British troops from Boston to New York, necessarily led to the breaking up of the Ameri- can camp at the former place. A portion of the ene- my's force proceeded to Charleston, where they met with the memorable defeat at Fort Moultrie. Acting upon the presumption that New York was the object of the British commander, Washington ordered his troops in that direction. Greene's brigade was despatched to Long Island, where he arrived about the middle of April, and established his headquarters at Brooklyn. The division of the army posted on Long Island was placed under his command ; while the remainder of the American troops were put in occupation of New York. The fleet of the enemy, after a long voyage, entered the Narrows late in June. Greene, whose command was that which was obviously destined for the first trial of strength with the assailants, devoted himself to such BATTLE OP LONG ISLAND. 37 preparations as promised to render the issue honorable to himself and troops. But the British, for several weeks, lay in a singular state of inactivity at Staten island, and, in the meantime, Greene was brought to the vero^e of the grave oj a bilious fever — the consequence of great exposure and extraordinary fatigue. It was while thus he lay, anxious and prostrated, the crisis barely passed in his disease, that he heard the cannon of the contend- ing armies resounding in his ears. No situation could have been more humbling to the brave and ambitious spirit. " Gracious God !" he exclaimed, in his mental agony and disappointment, " to be confined at such a time !" Pe could scarcely lift his head from his pillow. The thought which added to his distress at this moment, arose from the recollection that he was the only general officer of the Americans who had made himself familiar with the scene of conflict. He it was who had explored highways and byways, marked equally the woods, trav ersed the passes, and established the redoubts and fort: fications. He, only, knew where lay the greatest peril which were the points most accessible, and how to pro- vide against the exigency which might occur in each. TeiTible was the anxiety with which he listened, inca- pable, to the progress of the cannonade, and received, from time to time, the reports of the conflict. Bit- ter were the tears which he shed as he was told of the havoc made in Smallwood's division — his own favor- ite regiment ; and long did he feel, the sore of that first hurt to his pride and hope, in a career which, however noble throughout, and triumphant in the end, was des- tined to be particularly distinguished by reverses and disappointments. The command of his brigade had been confided, during his illness, to Major-General Sul- livan. The attack of the British was made late in Au- gust, and was pressed with energy and skill. The affair C3 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. is sufficiently well known. Sullivan and Stirling were assailed in front by a force strong enough to give them full employment, while another column of the enemy stealthily made their way along the south side of the island, and, turning the left wing of the Americans, gained their rear behind the range of hills that run from Brooklyn to Jamaica. The defence was creditable, but overborne by numbers. Stirling and Sullivan were both made prisoners ; and the remnant of the American army was fortunate in making its retreat over East river, the evening of the day of the battle, before the British had any suspicion of their object. Greene remounted his horse as soon as he dared ven- ture from his bed. He was impatient to retrieve his position, and show himself in the front of danger. He had lost nothing in public opinion by his misfortune, but had rather gained, in the general conviction that had he been able to take the field the results must have been much more gratifying to the reputation and desires of the country. With the ability to reappear in the field, he rose to the higher rank of a major-general, and the resumption of his duties found them sufficiently arduous and important. The great point of public interest and anxiety was the city of New York. This was momently threatened by the British. Greene was among those who counselled against any effi)rt to defend it. Wash- ington went a step farther, and actually counselled that it should be burned ; but the cause itself, of the Ameri- can revolution, was quite too doubtful at this period to permit, or indeed to justify. Congress in a proceeding which seemed so desperate. Patriotism was somewhat deficient in the nei've for so bold a measure. Congress differed from both these counsellors ; but, in willing oth- erwi-se, that body did not come to its decision with an energy sufficiently prompt and stern for the achievement ' CONFLICT AT HARLEM. 39 of the best results. Halting between two opinions, even while the enemy was pressing his endeavors — reluctant to suiTonder the city without a struggle — and yet equally reluctant to peril the army in its maintenance — the re- sult, as is usual in all such cases, was decidedly injurious to both objects. Nothing was done toward making a vigorous defence, and just as little toward putting the army in a position of security. Thus hesitating, when the evacuation of the city was finally resolved upon, it proved too late to prevent a heavy loss in stores and munitions of war, which were abandoned to the enemy. Pursued by the British with eagerness, a brief but bril- liant stand was made at Harlem, in which Greene distin- guished himself. It was his first battle, and he describes it as a severe one. He "fought hard" in it, and doubt- lessly, at every angry stroke, found an emollient for that wounded self-esteem which still remembered his disappointment at Long Island. But the stand was made in vain. The army continued its retreat, and when Washin Often marched to White Plains he detached Greene to watch that portion of the enemy's forces which still occupied Staten island. The command of the American troops in New Jersey w^as assigned him, and his head- quarters were at Fort Lee or at Bergen, as events required his presence at either place. The important object of his position was to keep open the communica- tion with the main army, east of the Hudson, and secure for Washington a retreat, should circumstances make this necessary. These duties were sufficiently heavy, with inadequate numbers, and inferior officers. Greene complains lut- terly of both. His militia became insubordinate, and he was compelled, on one occasion to bring up his regulars to subdue their insolence. Washington, meanwhile, had been marching and countermarching to elude the manoe- 40 LIFE OP NATIIANAEL GREENE. vres of Howe, and to retard tlie progress of the enemy across the Jerseys. His army was growmg hourly more feeble, and the troops were greatly dispirited. Short enlistments and an unwise deference to the requisitions of the militia, were rapidly reducing the chances of a successful struggle. The British, on the other hand, were exercising their best energies in the prosecution of the war. In possession of New York, their desire was naturally to penetrate the Jerseys, and concentrate their lext regards upon Philadelphia. Their arms were pointed toward the position held by Greene. The gar- rison at Fort Washington was endangered. This post had been maintained as a check upon the navigation of the Hudson, but it was badly designed and quite inadequate for this object. The British shij^ping had already passed it with impunity, receiving and answering its cannonade, without detriment on either side. Useless for the lead- ing purpose for which it had been held, it was proposed to abandon it. Such was Washington's opinion, differ- ing from that of Greene, who urged the importance of the place in obstructing the enemy in a free communi- cation with the country by way of Kingsbridge. He suggested other considerations for keeping it ; but these, perhaps, would not have been conclusive, had not Con- gress by resolution, determined " on retaining it as long as possible." Under this resolution, Washington wrote to Greene to give the garrison every assistance in his power, coupled, however, with a discretionary power to withdraw the command should it be necessary. Greene preferred to maintain the post, which was in the keeping of Colonel Magaw, who had a force of two thousand men, chiefly drawn from Pennsylvania and Maryland. This body of troops was incorrectly supposed to be com- petent to its defence. When threatened, Greene added to the garrison a detachment of six hundred more. He CAPTURE OF PORT WASHINGTON. 41 himself was present with the gaiTrson the evening be- fore the place was assaulted, encouraging the troops by his presence and the officers by liis councils. But the re- sult showed the error of attempting the defence, partic- ularly as the post could be commanded from contiguous heights, and as an overwhelming force could be readily concentrated upon it. The assault was made on the 16th of November. A severe conflict followed, in which, though successful in their objects, the British were very roughly handled. They lost eight hundred men under the unerring aim of the Maryland rifles. With anything like an equal number of troops, the defence must have been maintained triumphantly. But the numbers of Howe were as five to one, and his dispositions for the assault were made with masterly judgment. The garri- son became prisoners-of-war. Greene suffered, for a time, from public opinion, which censured him for not abandoning the fort in season. We have shown his rea- sons for not doing so. They are such as would probably have influenced any officer who, like our subject, was new to military life, lacking experience, and necessarily influenced in his judgment by the opinions and wishes of his superiors. It is only that confidence which grows equally from indomitable will, and a veteran career, that can venture, in the face of authority, to assume the re- sponsibility of independent action. Whatever reproaches may be urged against Greene, must be shared equally with Washington and Congress. The resolution of th(3 latter stares him in the face, and, though allowed some discretion by the former, the importance of the post is yet dwelt upon as justifying every pains and expense in the endeavor to preserve it. It was for this reason that Greene, instead of withdrawing the ganison, added to its force when it was threatened by the enemy. It will bo no disparagement to his ability, if we admit that he 42 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. may have deceived himself as to the sti-ength of the po- sition, and its capacity for defence. He, himself, had nut little training as an engineer, and in this branch of the service the American army, at the beginning of the revo- lution, and, indeed, throughout the progress of the v^'^ar, was lamentably deficient. It was the consciousness of this deficiency, that led to the undue and improper ele- vation to command of so many European officers of small merit. The fall of Fort Washington naturally led to a demon- stration upon Fort Lee. Washington anticipated this attempt, and gave orders for the evacuation of the place; but the means of transportation could not be found in season, and the orders of Washington had scarcely been receivod before the British force, destined for the con- quest of the fort, was seen crossing the Hudson. At the head of this force was Lord Cornwallis, with whom Greene was subsequently to come in conflict in frequent campaigns. With a strong body of British and Hessians, his aim was to cut off the retreat of the gaiTison, toward the Hackensack river. This was early on the morning of the 18th of November. Greene rose from his bed to the encounter. The space between himself and the river was four miles. Cornwallis was nearer the object by half the distance. Yet such was the rapidity and energy of the American general, that he conti'ived to throw iiimself in the path of the British, before the head of the river had been gained, and keep him at bay until Wash- ington — to whom advice of the danger had been sent — could come up to his relief. Greene's conduct on this occasion was the subject of as much eulogy as, in the affair of Foit Washington, it had been of censure. Leav- ing the commander-in-chief to deal with Cornwallis, he hurried back to the fort, and conveyed the remains of the ganison in safety across the Hackensack. SURPRISE OF TRENTON. 43 The losses of the Americans, by the capture and aban- donment of these forts, were particularly heavy. They left the army of Washington in a singularly feeble cot dition. The famous retreat through the Jerseys followed as a natural consequence of his diminished strength. With but three thousand men, the commander-in-chief sullenly yielded before his enemy, until he threw the Delaware between the pursuer and himself. This was, probably, the most melancholy period of doubt, humility, and apprehension, among the Americans, in the whole course of the revolutionary struggle. But it found Greene as firm and undesp airing as Washington ; ready for any sacrifice but that of popular liberty — prepared to retire to the wilderness rather than return to the domi- nation of G-reat Britain. Their despondency was not irrational, nor of serious duration.- It strengthened rather than impaired their resolution, and, deserving well of fortune, they were now destined to experience some gleams of sunshine through the cloud. Suddenly, at the moment of greatest seeming prostration, the columns of Washington were set in motion for the surprise of Tren- ton. This place was occupied by a force of fifteen hun- dred Hessians, under the command of Colonel Rahl. The surprise was eminently successful, and at once re- aroused the nation into hope and confidence. Crossing the Delaware on Christmas night, in a storm of wind and rain, a detachment of the American army made its way to the Jersey shore, and, by a forced march of nine miles, succeeded in a secret progi*ess which left the Brit- ish totally unapprized of their progress until they felt the shock of battle. A few minutes decided the affair, in the defeat and surrender of more than a thousand Hessians, considered among the best troops of the British aiTay. This blow was followed up by the masterly manoeuvre against Princeton, by which all the sehemes of the enemy 44 LIFE OP NATIIANAEL GREENE. were defeated — his designs frustrated against Philadel* pliia, and his chain of posts temnoranly broken up. In this brilUant coup-dc-main, as in the affair of Trenton, Greene's credit was considerable. He was one of those by whom these enterprises were counselled, and, at Tren- ton, was intrusted with the command of the left wing, accompanied by Washington in person. It was this di- vision which first reached the town, and, having seized upon the enemy's artillery, cut off their retreat to Prince- ton. The arrival of Sullivan with the right wing, secured the victory. The affair at Princeton was not less bril- liant, and, next to the claim of Washington, as command- er-in-chief, must be that of Greene, as his admirable and efficient second.. In these two happy victories, achieved at a moment when all seemed desperate in the condition of the nation, the British were confounded, and the Americans proportionably inspirited at proofs in their officers, not only of a valor which could look coolly on the strife with the veterans of Europe, but of a skill in strat- egic warfare which could baffie their best plans, and put all their experience at fault. With these glorious events, closing the campaign of 1776, the army of the Ameri- cans, not exceeding three thousand men, retired into winter quarters, at Morristown, New Jersey. ARMV IN WINTER QUARTERS. 45 CHAPTER IV. The Army in Winter Quarters. — Greene sent on a Mission to Congress. —Explores the Highlands.— MancEuvres of the British.— Greene in Command of a Division. — Conspicuous in the Battle of Brandywine — and in that of Germantown. — Sent against Comwallis. — Retires with the Army upon Valley Forge. The fact that the two armies had retired into winter quarters, did not imply inactivity on the part of either. The little force of Washington, scarcely more than three thousand men, regulars and militia, were kept sufficiently busy in watching that of the enemy, which numbered more than" twenty thoasand. It was in being able to keep in check such an overwhelming force that the great merit of Washington's generalship is to be found. The army of the British occupied a chain of posts from Brunswick, by Amboy, down Staten island, and thus kept up the communication with New York. It is not pretended that any vigilance or skill of the American general could have foiled the enterprise of such a force, but for the absence of that concentration, which the occu- pancy of such an extent of country must necessarily imply. The active incidents of the war were necessa rily few, and of little importance, during the progress of the winter. Greene had his share of them, being sta tioned. at Baskingridge wdth a separate division. A series of skirmishes, which annoyed rather than discom fited the enemy, was maintained during this period and served, in some degree, to improve the paitisao 45 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE capacity of the Americans. That Greene profited by these lessons, in full degree with any of his contempo- raries, is the natural inference, equally from what we know of his past habits and his future career. The approach of a more active career was necessarily the result of the breaking up of winter. The British plan of the campaign of 1777 promised to be sufficiently formidable. Their purpose was to get possession of the southern states, and cut them off from the support of the north. Philadelphia was still a first object. Burgoyne was to reduce the country lying along Lake Champlain and the river Hudson; while Clinton and Cornwallis, operating in Virginia and the remote south, were to destroy, in detail, the several members of the confederacy, wherever they were found most susceptible to injury. To meet and counteract these preparations, Wash- ington strove with all his powers for the reorganization of the army. But there was nothing encouraging in this progress. That Congress might be awakened to a proper sense of its dangers and dudes, Greene was specially desjDatched to Philadelphia. This mission was intrusted to him, in consequence of the fact, now gen- erally understood, that he was in the confidence of the commander-in-chief — a peculiar distinction, which had already begun to produce its natural effects of jealousy, suspicion, and reproach. We have every reason to be- lieve that Greene executed this mission, which was one of considerable delicacy and difficulty, with a rare judg- ment and discretion. His own good sense and expe- rience, not less than the detailed counsels of Washington, enabled him to set before Congress the exact conditions of affairs — the exigencies of the army and the country ; the nature of the assistance and force required ; how the approaching dangers were to be met; and how best EXPLORES THE HIGHLANDS. 47 the materials of the sei-vice were to be found and em ployed. His return to the army afforded him instant employment in another field. Foreseeing that the New York highlands were destined to become the theatre of the most interesting operations, he was despatched with General Knox to explore their passes ; to prepare foi their defence ; for intercepting the progress of the enemy, and to oppose his advance, or embaiTass his retreat, as the nature of the exigency might counsel. To enable him to effect these objects, the militia of Connecticut and Massachusetts were placed at his ser- vice. To a certain extent these duties were performed as prescribed ; but the more full development of the enemy's designs required the attention of Greene in another quarter. The advance of Burgoyne, from the north, was found to be simultaneous with a new effort of Howe to penetrate New Je7'sey; and, leaving the desti- nies of the former to other hands, the energies of the commander-in-chief were t)ow addressed entirely to the progress of Sir William. His entreaties and expostula- tions, addressed to Congress, had not been successful in the reorganization of the army. He was scarcely better prepared, for the encounter of the enemy, at the close than at the opening of the winter. The dawn of spring, the season for active operations, found his regiments still lamentably deficient in numbers, and desponding from the peculiar pressure of casualties, such as sickness and small-pock, which continued to harass and to enfeeble them. But, inacti\'ity in an army is perhaps its worst disease ; and, with this knowledge, though still gi'eatly inferior in force, with his men badly equipped and in great part undisciplined, Washington felt the necessity of motion. He resolved, accordingly, to throw himself in front of the enemy, as soon as he exhibited a design tn cross the Jerseys. T^W9J'4 the end of May, he broke 4S LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. up his camp at Morristown, and took up a position at Middlebrook, the natural advantages of which he dili- gently improved, rendering it a post of considerable security and strength. Howe was already in the field, and about the middle of June he marched out of Brunswick. Conscious of his own superiority, it was his policy to bring on an action with the American gen- eral ; but the latter was quite too wary to be won by the arts of his rival, who, he knew, would never attempt to descend upon Philadelphia, leaving his enemy in the rear. Failing to provoke his opponent, Howe, after a sufficient demonstration, re-entered Brunswick, and com- menced a retrograde movement, by way of Amboy, tow- ard New York. It was then that Washington prepared to harass his retreating footsteps. The command of a strong detachment was assigned to Greene for this pur- pose. His orders were to follow close upon the track, to hang upon and annoy the rear of the British, and to embrace the first opportunity, upon the aiTival of rein- forcements, which were expected under Sullivan and Maxwell, to attack him with all his vigor. The design was only carried out in part. So far as it was possible for him to operate with the three brigades which he commanded, Greene's proceedings were all that could be expected or desired. But the anticipated reinforce- ments failed him. Sullivan did not reach the scene of interest in time to take a part in the performance, and the despatch to General Maxwell never reached him, having been probably cut off by the enemy. Greene followed upon the footsteps of the British rear, anxiously waiting the appearance of the expected regiments ; but in vain. He pursued as far as Piscataway; but was compelled finally to submit to the mortifying events which enabled the British to reach Staten island in safety. His troops behaved with ^rcat intrepidity in several BRITISH THREATEN PHILADELPHIA. 49 demonstrations ujjon the rear-guard of the enemy, but were quite too few to venture upon engaging it. Sir William Howe, in retreating from before his enemy, was by no means prepared to abandon his object. He simply drew back, in order the more effectually to make his spring. That object was Philadelphia. But with gi-eat good fortune and skill, he contrived to keep the Americans in doubt as to his intentions. They knew that he was embarking his army in his fleet ; but tho destination of the fleet was the difficult question, which no clue in his possession could enable the American gen- eral to determine. To fly to the defence of Philadel- phia, which Washington justly thought to be his real object, might be to leave to the enemy a country open to invasion; and the uncertainty of his designs was greatly increased by the length of time which, in consequence of baffling winds, the British were at sea. All doubts were finally dissipated by the appearance of the fleet off* Elk river, in the Chesapeake. To meet him, and pre- vent his progress at every hazard, was now the necessity before the American general. Hastily assembling all his disposable forces, he advanced with the elite of the army to the meeting with Howe. Greene was sent forward to reconnoitre and select a fit place for the encampment. He chose for this pui-pose the Cross-roads, about six miles from the enemy. This point was sufficiently near the hostile army for the purposes of skirmishing and ccraflict, and commanded, in the rear, an open countiy, from which supplies and succors could be drawn at any moment. But a council of war, in advance of Greene's report, decided upon another position, which he did not scruple to denounce as insusceptible of defence, — an opinion which was subsequently justified entirely by the progress of events. The division that Greene commanded was composed 3 50 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. of the Virginia brigades of Muhlenberg and Weedon. With this division Washington marched in person. The two armies came in sight of each other on the ridge that divides Christiana creek from the Elk river. The British were estimated at eighteen thousand ; the force under Washington at fifteen thousand, but with only eleven thousand fit for duty. Howe manoeuvred with a view to turn the right of Washington and cut off h"s communi- cation with Philadelphia. To elude this design, the American general crossed the Brandywine creek, and throwing up some slight works at Chads-ford, on the east bank of the creek, he prepared to make a stand in this position. Howe, who was now quite anxious to measure swords with his wary adversary, advanced to the attack on the 11th of September. By a ruse de guerre, he obtained such an advantage over the Americans as tr render the results of the day quite unsatisfactory to the latter. While a large portion of his army, under Knyp- hausen, engaged the Americans in front, another portion led by Cornwallis, secretly filed off upon their left, crossed the creek at another ford, which had been left unde- fended, and was rapidly gaining the American rear. It is said that Washington had foreseen this movement, and would have prepared against it, but for the fact that his mind had been held in suspense by contradictory intel- ligence. This may be so, but it neither excuses nor pal- liates the omission. Enough that, after a manly struggle with the foe in front, the necessity became apparent for providing against the enemy who had gained his rear. If Washington erred in any respect, in suffering this manoeuvi'e to deceive him, he is admitted to have repaired his error by the readiness and skill with which he adapted his movements to the change of circumstances. The conflict had tenninated in disappointment, if not defeat. It was now necessary, not only that Cornwallis should be BATTLE OF BRANDYWINE. 51 arrested in his advance, but that Knyphausen should be kept in check. To leave him to cross the stream and fall upon the rear of the army, w^hile it was engaged in the struggle with Cornwallis, would be a fatal error. Wayne was accordingly thrown, with his brigade, into the redoubt by which the ford was commanded ; while Greene's division, consisting of the brigades of Weedon and Muhlenberg, was halted in the rear of Wayne, occu- pying such a position as would enable him to fly with equal readiness to the relief of either of the parties — that which remained at the ford, and that which went in pursuit of Howe and Cornwallis. The rest of the army under the command of Sullivan, was hurried forward, with instructions to form and engage the main army of the British with all possible expedition. These orders were obeyed ; but, in consequence of a miserable regard to etiquette, instead of forming and fighting as they arrived on the ground. General Sullivan and Lord Stir- ling stopped to do some very unnecessary counter-march- ing ; and Cornwallis very judiciously seized the oppor- tunity of turning upon his assailants, and charging the Americans while they were yet busy in forming their line of battle. Great was the confusion that ensued, followed by a complete rout. Washington hurried to the scene of action, but not in season to avert the disas- ter. Meanwhile, Knyphausen recommenced the battle at the ford, and Greene was preparing to advance to the help of Wayne, who was already in hot argument with him, when an order from the commander-in-chief sum moned him to the support of the forces which had been led against Howe and Cornwallis. With such alacrity was this order obeyed, that the distance of four miles was traversed by Greene's division in forty-nine minutes He came in time to cover the retreat of the fugitives, and to arrest the fierce and bloody pursuit of the exult' 62 LIFE OP NATIIANAEL GREENE. ing enemy. It was a moment which needed all the cool and steadfast courage of a veteran soldier; and Greene never showed to greater advantage than in the steady front, and the firm, unembarrassed spirit, with which he encouraged his own troops, and encountered the British. While the briGrade under Weedon was halted, in such a position as to succor and sustain Wayne, should he be forced by the superior strength of Knyphausen, that under Muhlenberg, led by Greene in person, passing to Weedon's right, met the troops of Howe and Cornwallis upon the road. With a firmness and j)recision of move- ment, which compelled the admiration even of his foes, he opened for the reception of the American fugitives, and closed against their pursuers. A heavy fire from his field-pieces caused a temporary pause in the earnest- ness of the British assault, while, gradually incorporating the disordered battalions with his own, Greene slowly yielded to a pressure, which he might only retard, and not arrest. In this way he continued the combat — stubbornly fighting, sullenly retiring — until his retro- grade movement brought him to a narrow defile through a thicket, where his quick eye readily saw that a stand might temporarily be made. Halting at this point, he hastily ordered his front for battle ; upon which the British darted with flushed, spirits, and a confidence that looked to this last struggle as putting a proper finish to the victory. Thej recoiled from the well-delivered fire which encountered them, and felt the necessity of a more deliberate demonstration if they calculated on success. The position taken was one which required time and industry before it could be turned. The Americans were now recovered from their panic. The steadfast courage of their leader had informed their own, and, fortunately, the shades of night graciously intei-posed for the safety of the weary squadrons. In this way, stub- MANCEUVRES OF THE TWO ARMIES. 53 bornly fighting and sullenly retiring, with his face ever set against the enemy, and with steel and shot ready to confront him, Greene succeeded in saving the army from the complete disaster by which it had been threatened, and which, with a general of less coolness and nerve than himself, must have been inevitable. Encouraged by the degree of success which he had obtained in this conflict, and dissatisfied that his victory had not been made complete by the entire capture of the American army. Sir William Howe prepared to renew the struggle. Nor was Washington entirely un- willing to gratify his desires ; but, with a force inferior in numbers and dispirited by defeat, he required advan- tages in the issue, reconciling this inequality, such as his opponent did not seem willing to afford him. A few days brought the two armies once more within striking distance of each other; and they were mutually pre- paring for the encounter, when a violent storm tempo- rarily prevented their purpose, and so damaged the arms and ammunition of the Americans, that Washington was compelled to decline fighting. The Americans retired upon Reading. The enemy continued his approach ; and the public policy was supposed to require, as in the case of "New York, that Philadelphia should be saved, if pos- sible. But the desires of government, as in the instance just given, were not seconded by the adequate efforts. Greene was employed once more in the choice of a position for the army, which would enable it to fight or retreat at pleasure. He chose a region, mountainous and difficult of access, in the neighborhood of the Yellow Springs, from which the Americans might annoy and harass the enemy in partial encounters, or boldly en- deavor to arrest its passage over the Schuylkill. A CDuncil of war again determined against this position 54 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. prefeiTing a series of manoeuvres in the open field, and in the dii'ect face of the enemy. The result was, that Washington found himself unequal to the encounter, and Philadelphia was yielded to the British general. He en- tered it in tiiumph on the 26th September; but it was an unfortunate acquisition. It became his Capua, and its loss in this way was of real service to the cause of America. Congress removed to Lancaster ; their labors serving rather to establish a central point, upon which the several colonies could turn their eyes, than really to serve the cause with any efficient councils. In some respects their proceedings were greatly pernicious. Their resolution to defend Philadelphia, a place of no strength as a military position and of no importance to the integrity of the cause, may be described in this category. The control which they exercised over the army was commonly mis chievous ; particularly as they frequently offended that jealous sensibility with regard to rank which is so impor- tant to the self-respect of the soldier. Greene, Sullivan, and Knox, while the army lay at Middlebrook — under impressions of injustice arising from the supposed ele- vation of a foreigner, just arrived in the country, to a rank above them — declared themselves to Congress in such a manner as greatly to irritate that great council of the nation. But the lesson, if prematurely administered, was probably of some importance, in suggesting to the civil power a better regard to the necessary laws of rank, in military affairs, than it had been previously accus- tomed to display. Congress was very angry, on this occasion, with the general officers whom we have men- tioned, as concerned in this *' round robin." It called upon the offenders for an apology. But the spirits sum- moned by Glen dower were not more ready with their answer ; and the anger of the parties seemed to subside, without further demonstrations on either side, which POSITION OF THE BRITISH. 5b sliouJd increase the provocation. Let us return to the rival armies. The position taken by the British, after possession had been obtained of Philadelphia, w^as at the village of Germantown, within six miles of the former city. Here lay the main body of their army; but detachments of smaller portions were made, some having immediate charge of Philadelphia, while others were engaged in remote enterprises. The American army occupied a position about sixteen miles from Germantown. The troops, though recently mortified by defeat, were in good spirits. Their loss at Brandywine had been compara tively small ; and as that had been the first occasion when the greater number of them had ever felt an enemy's fire, that they had been so little daunted by disaster, afforded every reason to hope better things from their future conduct. Washington determined to try their temper, and selected as the mark which he should first strike, the main body of the British at Germantown. His plan meditated a surprise, the post being without other bulwarks than the ordinary obstructions of house and fence, in a long and naiTow village. In point of numbers, the two armies were nearly equal ; the differ ence, however, was greatly in favor of the British as respects the equipments and quality of the soldiers. The Americans were mostly raw troops, half-clad, and miserably provided with weapons. The enemy were in excellent trim, with all necessary armaments and imple- ments, veterans mostly from foreign service, and flushed with recent victory. To make a dash at them under such circuinstances, argued a degree of rashness in the commander-in-chief which has not often been imputed to him. But something of audacity was essential to keep up the spirits of the natien, which had been greatly 66 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. et down by the frequent facility of retreat which their army had shown on preceding occasions. The order of battle in Washington's army assigned the right wing to Sullivan. This was attended by the com- mander-in-chief in person. The left was confided to Greene, and consisted of his own and Stevens's divis- ions, supported by M'Dougall's brigade. The army commenced its march on the night of the 3d of Octo- ber. The attack was made at break of day on the morning of the fourth. The British, well posted, though unapprized of danger, were not unprepared for it. " Their line was divided nearly equally by the village, and from its right, strong detachments were posted, at intervals, as far as the ridge road." This road, which, at this point, approaches very near the Schuylkill; was guarded by the German chasseurs. *' In advance of the village, on the Germantown road, was posted a battalion of light-infan- try," and a little in their rear was the 40th regiment, under Colonel Musgrove. Advanced upon the limekiln road was the battalion of light-infantry ; and on that of York, the Queen's rangers. Both roads were measura- bly watched by the 1st and 2d battalions of the Guards, which occupied prominent points between them. The British army, as may be seen from these statements, was judiciously ordered for defence against every point of attack. No precautions were spared, and the failure of the attempt of the Americans was probably due to the vigilance of his patrols. The night was an obscure one, and the morning dawned imperceptibly in fog. The approach of the Americans was known to the British sufficiently long to afford them time for every preparation; but the formei, prosecuting a midnight's march, in a darkness more than commonly dense, struggled on, without any apprehen- sions of an enemy forewaiTied and deliberately awaiting BATTLE OF GERMANTOWN. 67 them. Their progress was a painful one, over fence and ditch, through bog and forest, seldom able, at any period to distinguish objects in the gloom at an arrow-shot be yond them. The break of day scarcely aided their prog ress, though it found them near the scene of act'on They were suddenly roused to a due sense of its ap proach, by a smart firing in the direction of the ^^ ridge^ road, which had been pursued by the American militia under General Armstrong. Believing this to be the quarter at which the assault of the Americans was to be seriously made, and that their appearance in front was only meant as a diversion — conscious, too, that this would have been the better policy of the assailants — th€ British commander strengthened his chasseurs by strong reinforcements. Unhappily, the militia afforded him but little occasion for these precautions. They scarcely looked the chasseurs in the face, and the latter proved quite equal to the defence against such customers. The reinforcements sent to this quarter by the British, were speedily withdrawn to the left wing, which they reached and strengthened at the critical moment. The action had begun at this quarter in the steady advance of the column under Sullivan. The battalion of British infantry, which this column first encountered, having de- livered their fire, yielded before the bayonets of Con- way's brigade. Striking into the Germantown road, Colonel Musgrove, with the 40th regiment, rushed for- ward to sustain them, and the battle raged warmly for a while, until the British, feeling now the whole pres- sure of Sullivan's arm upon them, again yielded before it. The scale was about to turn decidedly in favor of the Americans. They had forced their way into the village, and the squadrons which had been brought to encountei their advance, had twice proved inadequate to the pur pose. But the brave Englishman, yielding slowly to th^ 3* 58 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. pressure which he could not oppose, was prepared to avai' hhnsclf of every opportunity for showing front and offer- ing resistance. At the head of the village, directly in the route to be pursued by the Americans, stood a sti'ong mansion-house of stone. This afforded a means for arrestingc the assailantt>, of which Musorove, with a quick military appreciation of its advantages, readily took possession. With five or six companies he quickly occupied its walls, while the rest of his division fell back upon the main body of the army. The fog lifted at this moment, and the advancing column of Sullivan found itself arrested by a murderous fire from the windows of the building occupied by Musgrove. Here, unhappily, with the view to the capture of the detachment by which it was occupied, the assailing division was halted for sev- eral precious minutes. Knox's artillery was opened upon the walls of stone, the unknown thickness of which gave no reason to doubt that a breach could be readily effect- ed. But the delay being greater than had been expected, Washington, who rode up to note the effect of Knox's bullets, finally ordered the column to pushforwaid, leav- ing a single regiment to observe and keep in check the temporary garrison. To avoid the fatal fire from the windows, the army inclined to the right and left, and pressed onward to the encounter with other and no less serious difficulties. " The left wing of the British araiy had advanced as the firingr on the road commenced," and the whole line, extending from the Germantown to the Limekiln road, was drawn up so as to meet the attack of both the American columns. This required a new disposition of the troops, which lost still more of the val- uable time. Posts and fences were to be torn away for the passage of troops, horses, and artillery, and before one portion of the ainny could do the work of pioneer- ing, the other half had expended all its ammnnition. GREENE S DIVISION AT GE RMANTO WN. 59 Such was the fortune of the column under Sullivan That under Greene was necessarily influenced and injuri ously affected by the events which had taken place upon ihe right. It had reached the scene of action at the con- templated moment. Here it was encountered vigorously by the light-infantry of the British. This body of troops, however, was compelled to retreat, and continued to do so in good order, though pressed by the American light troops, and galled by their artillery. Through fog and darkness, with objects scarcely visible at thirty yards, the assailants felt their way with the bayonet, firing only when the flash from the British guns enabled them, with tolerable accuracy, to seek a mark. With the lifting of the darkness, at the dawn of day, the objects of search and assault were scarcely made more apparent. Reaching the ground directly east of the stone-house into which Musgrove had throv/n himself, Greene's at- tention was drawn to the warm discharges of firearms which announced the conflict of the other column with the enemy. To halt, reconnoitre, and finally to display, for the struggle with him also, was the work of little time ; but the progress of events, totally beyond Greene's knowledge, had rendered nugatory the previous arrange- ments foi the battle. In the original disposition of the American forces, it was contemplated that Sullivan should meet and fight that part of the enemy's force which was encamped to the west of the village, and Greene that part which lay to the east." But the newly- formed front of the British, rendered a new organiza- tion necessary for Sullivan, and threw one half of his column on the same side of the village with Greene's. Here, expecting only to find an enemy, the rear line, composed of Stevens's division, in the obscurity of the morning, fired upon Wayne's division, which constituted Sullivan's left. The front, finding itself between two fires 60 LIFE OF NATHANAEIi GREENE. was thrown into confusion. Greene, meanwhile, whose division was on the left of the whole, pressing forward to feel the British, opened also upon the other column. A panic necessarily followed which was fatal to the order of Sullivan's division. They broke and yielded on each hand, in spite of all the efforts of their officers, leaving Greene's command to the encounter with the enemy, which, it is alleged, was never better sustained by the most determined veterans. It effected the service which had that day been assigned it ; broke the British right, drove them at the point of the bayonet, and made a large number of prisoners — its very zeal proving fatal in the sequel, since, " by pressing forward in the pursuit, while Stevens was embarrassed and detained, its right flank became exposed ; and two regiments on the left of the British line, not being confronted by any part of the American force, were at liberty to wheel upon the left of Sullivan." The battle, which had been almost won, was soon entirely lost. The confusion in the column of Sul- livan was irretrievable. By this time, the light of day was sufficient to discover to Greene the danger which threatened his unsheltered flank. The rout which pre- vailed on his right, was sufficiently monitoiy, and, with a sullen anger, he gave orders for retreat from that field, which, but a little while before, he had fancied all his own. With practised troops, even then, the event of the day might have been retrieved ; but with raw and inexperi- enced soldiers, the difficulties and dangers which men- aced the retreat, presented to the minds of their leaders a more arduous and perilous duty than that through which they had already gone. Musgrove still occupied his fortress of stone ; the British army had recovered from its sui'prise, and, with the light increasing and gui- ding their manoeuvres, were pressing forward with the growing hope of converting a partial defeat into a com Greene's share in the affair. 61 plete victory. To encourage them in this hope, Cora- wallis, with a strong body of fresh ti'oops, was pushing on from Philadelphia, having been aroused at the first sounds of the conflict. To retreat, under such circum- stances, was a serious matter, and Greene devoted him- self to the task of timing and regulating, with firmness and coolness, the retrograde movement which was now inevitable. To keep his men from panic or despondency — to retire sternly and sullenly, like the wounded wolf who turns momently to rend the incautious pursuer — to guard the rear with dogged watch and vigilance — were duties in the prosecution of which Greene pertinaciously exposed his person in a manner that showed equally his devotion to his troops and the deep mortification which he felt at being forced to forego a victory within his very grasp. The action had been a long and sharp one. It had lasted nearly two hours and a half. The lost in killed and wounded was nearly equal on both sides, each being seven or eight hundred. The Americans suffered the additional loss of four hundred prisoners in the surrender of Mathews's regiment. They brought off all their artillery. The pursuit was vigor- ously urged by the British, was continued for about five miles, and was marked by frequent conflict. Of this bat- tle, Washington and Greene both concurred in the opin- ion which the former expressed in his letter to Congress, that *' our troops retreated at the instant when victory was declaring in our favor." The British opinion was, that " in this action the Americans acted on the offensive, and, though repulsed with loss, showed themselves a formida^ ble adversary, capable of charging with resolution, and retreating with order." Greene's enemies found several causes for censure in the part which he took in the affair ; but his reputation has survived the assault, and the opinion of his more intelligent contemporaries, affirmed 62 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. by the deliberate judgment of posterity, assigns to him the credit of a fair share of all that was meiitorious in the action. If the Americans did not succeed in the sui-prise and capture of the British at Gennantown, they gave them, in the language of the provincials, " a mighty bad scare." It w^as not long that they remained in this position. They felt too sensibly the danger of a post which was so ac- cessible to the assaults ©f a vigilant and enterprising enemy, and retired upon Philadelphia. Howe, mean- while, directing all his efforts to opening a communica- tion with his fleet, ordered a reinforcement from New York. With his eye keenly fixed on all his operations, Washington lay at Whitemarsh, but fifteen miles distant — not satisfied with the disappointment at Germantown — and eager, with better hopes, to try the experiment again. An opportunity was supposed to offer itself in a threat- ened descent of Cornwallis upon the Jerseys. With a force of three thousand men, he crossed from Chester to Billingsport. He had before him the twofold object of collecting supplies for the army, and of opening the nav- igation of the Delaware by the reduction of Fort Mercer — or Red Bank — a place already famous by its defence, under Colonel Greene, against Count Donop and his Hessians. It was determined, on the part of the Americans, to despatch a force into the Jerseys, for the pui'pose of baf- fling the designs of Cornwallis ; and General Greene was chosen to its command. He proceeded, with due dili- gence, upon his mission, but, before a junction could be formed of his own with the brigades of Huntingdon and Varnum, then in the Jerseys, the army under Cornwal- lis had been so greatly strengthened, by reinforcements from New York, as to render idle and improper any de- cisive demonstrations on the part of the Americans, WINTER QUARTERS. 63 Greene, however, hung upon the left wing of the enemy, until recalled by Washington, who had reason to appre- hend for the safety of the main army, in consequence of a movement of Cornwallis, whicifpromised to unite the forces of the latter with those under Howe. Such a junction would have placed it in the power of the Brit- ish general-in-chief to strike an effective blow at the American army, unless strengthened by the concentra- tion of all their detachments. It was the last of Novem- ber when Greene, with his column joined Washington at Whitemarsh. Here the anriy remained till the night of the 12th of December, certain movements of the British lead'ing to apprehensions of an attack. But the storm passed over in cloud and murmur, and, content with a vigilant watch upon each other, the opposing armies tacitly agreed to forego more active enterprises for the season. The Americans went into winter quarters at Valley Forge, about sixteen miles from Philadelphia, while the British, within and about that city, after all their battles and successes, were content with just enou^i» conquered temtory to spread their blankets upop 64 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. CHAPTER V. Greene becomes Quartemiaster-General. — Tlie Britisli evacuate Pli^ delphia. — Poi'sued by Washington. — The Battle of Monmouth. — W 4 Conduct of Greene in tliat Battle. — Joins Sullivan in an Attempt isn Newport. — Engages the British. — Retires before them on the Ap- proach of Clinton. Winter quarters at Valley Forge, in the present condition of the American army, though promising res- pite from the active enterprises of wa7', contained no other promise. Repose, quiet, plenty — all of which seem ordinarily implied in such a withdrawal from the fields of war — were singularly wanting to our troops on this occasion. Without clothing or provisions — without order, method, or a proper officer to attend to the duty of providing the famished and harassed soldiers — Washington was compelled to issue orders to forage, as in an enemy's country. This painful duty was devolved on Greene. He naturally shrunk from a task so irk- some ; but the obligation of seiTice was paramount to all others, and, however reluctantly, he complied with the requisition. He scoured the woods and meadows, and found spoil in plenty. The patriotism of the quakers contemplated no sacrifices ; and the gold of Britain, which flowed abundantly in Philadelphia, j^ossessed a value, in their eyes, very far superior to that which belonged to the depreciated currency of Congress. Their cattle and provisions, designed for those who could pay in the precious metals, were found concealed in swamp and thicket. Greene's scruples at appropriating them, if he BECOMES QUARTERMASTER-GENERAL. 65 had any, were removed by the orders of Congi-ess — the resolves of which body rendered liable to impressment whatever was wanted for the army within seventy miles of the camp. However firaily, he performed his spirit- ing gently; with as much order and regard to the sensi- bilities of the sufferer, as were consistent with the char- acter of the proceeding. The manner in which he executed these duties — his known habits of method, systematic arrangement, and unwearying regard to the smallest details of business — suggested to Washington the importance to the army of employing him in the department of quartermaster-gen- eral. This office, one of the most vitally important to the successes and safety of an army, had hitherto been con- fided to incompetent persons, by whom it had either been grossly neglected or infamously mismanaged. Greene was, however, quite unwilling to accept this office. He disliked any appointment which required the keeping and expenditure of the public money ; and was unwilling to forego any of the opportunities which might offer, of active performance in the regular line of the army. It was only at the earnest entreaty of Washington, who appealed to him to make the sacrifice, that he finally consented; stipulating, meanwhile, that he should not lose his right of command in action. His acceptance of the office, at once relieved the commander-in-chief from most of his annoyances on the score which had hitherto distressed the aimy, and threat- ened its disbandment. The integrity of Greene, his precision, order, comprehensive grasp of details, and various resources, produced the happiest effects. Order sprang from chaos, light from darkness, and confidence, in the minds of the people, from doubt and apprehension. The whole course of his administration, in this new department, was such as to reflect the highest credit upoT. 66 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. himself, and bring the most incalculable advantages to the service. But his couch w^as by no means spread with roses. This "hutting at Valley Forge" during the winter quarters of 1777, was neither a period of hope nor repose. It is ti'ue that the wives of both Washington and Greene were present in the camp ; but the peace of Eden was not implied by the presence of woman in the garden. It was during this memorable winter that the intrigues which threatened to disturb the peace of the country, by the overthrow of Washington, became most active under the spells and machinations of Con- way, Gates, Lee, and others. " Conway's cabal" is sufficiently known to history, to render it needless that we should do more than refer to it in this connexion. The intimacy of Greene with Washington, rendered it natural that he should share in all the odium and all the danger by which the commander-in-chief was assailed. He, indeed, was the frequent mark, on occasions, when Washington was the special victim ; and, where the rank and station of the latter rendered him secure against the assailant, Greene was usually chosen as the substi- tute against whose bosom the shaft of malice might more surely tell. In other words, the blow was frequently made at Washington over the shoulders of the man who was his favorite ; and the hostility thus exercised and tutored, continued to rage against him, long after it had despaired to do hurt to the more distinguished object of dislike. Undoubtedly, a great deal of this hostility was due to his individual claims and position. His integrity, which they could not shake ; his alliance with Washing- ton's cause, which they could not lessen or disturb ; his prudence, which they failed to put at fault ; his growing reputation, which they vainly endeavored to disparage, suid which was calculated to compel the finger of public confidence to point to him as the only proper successoi CAMPAIGN OPENS OF 1778. 67 eo Washington, — these were all qualities and circum- stances which stimulated the rage of faction, and irritated the sore sensibilities of envy and self-esteem. That the conspiracy of which Washington and Greene were the destined victims, failed utterly of its intended objects, did not lessen the anxieties of the injured parties, or pre- vent that frequent grief and bitterness, which naturally flow to the innocent from such a malicious warfare. The season for active operations was now at hand, and Washington steadily addressed all his energies to the task of preparing his army for its duties. His win- ter quarters had not been consumed in idleness. With his men and officers, for the first time beneath his eye, he had employed the opportunity, which it afforded, of improving their common discipline. With his force gradually increasing in numbers, he might now reason- ably calculate on a campaign, in which a modest con- fidence in his own resources might justify him in taking the initiate in enterprise. The capture of Burgoyne's army was an event which confirmed the revolution at home, and determined the doubts of those foreign nations who longed, but hesitated, to become allies of the rebel- lious colonies. These events led to auguries with regard to the forthcoming campaign, which naturally deepened the anxieties, while increasing the hopes, of the Ameri- cans. That Washinofton was in a condition to commence o the campaign at all, was greatly due to the rare and valuable exertions of his newly-appointed quartermaster- general. The British general Howe, meanwhile, had been superseded by Sir Henry Clinton. Intelligence, that a French fleet had sailed to intercept the British army in the Delaware, led to the evacuation of Philadelphia. Witli eleven thousand men, Clinton marched from that city, crossing the Delaware or the 18th of June. 1778. 68 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. His course was through the Jerseys. The aim cf Washington was to thwart this progress, retard the march, destroy the enemy in detail, and, if no opportu- nity offered for less perilous enterprise, to bring on a general action. His force was nearly equal to that of the British, and he crossed into the Jerseys about the same moment. By the 22d of June, the whole of the Americans were on the eastern bank of the Delaware, and in a condition and position to offer the enemy battle. But, upon the policy of this proceeding, much discussion ensued among the American generals. Charles Lee, and most of the foreign officers — indeed, a majority of the board of war — were decidedly against fighting. Wayne and Cadwallader were as decidedly for the arbit- rament of the sword, and their opinions were enforced by those of Greene, La Fayette, and Hamilton, who, without urging battle at all hazard, were disposed to follow up the enemy closely, protect the country from his ravages, and seize upon whatever chances might seem to promise a favorable issue for bringing on the final encounter. Lee, whose faith in British valor was only surpassed by his utter want of faith in the steadiness of the Americans, was opposed to any risks, however partial, which might result in conflict. Fortunately, Washington had been authorized by an express vote of Congress, which had been ascribed to the advice of Greene, to exercise his own discretion in regard to the decisions of his council. It was an advisory body, only, whose opinions he might follow, or not, under the guidance of his own judgment. The opinions of Greene and La Fayette determined his resolve against the sug- gestions of the majority. " You wish me to fight," said he ; and the orders soon followed which led to the battle of Monmouth. He had approached this place, following his enemy BATTLE OP MONMOUTH. 69 with a close but watchful step, when he came to the conclusion that the moment for action had arrived. La Fayette, meanwhile, had been detached with a strong body of troops, instructed to hang upon the British rear, and, with discretion, to act, if circumstances should en- courage him to do so. Other detachments, riflemen and militia, were in advance of him and on his flanks. To protect his enormous baggage-train from these parties, Chnton placed them under Knyphausen, with a very strong escort, while he united the rest of his force, in the rear to check the too close approach of the parties by which it was threatened. The interval between the force of Knyphausen, and that by which the rear was accompa- nied, suggested to Washington the idea of concentrating his assault upon the latter. It was advisable to hasten the attack, accordingly, before the enemy should reach the high-grouds of Middletown, about twelve miles dis- tant, where he would be measurably safe. A strong detachment, under Lee, was sent forward to join La- fayette, with instructions to engage the enemy, and keep him employed until the rest of the forces could be brought up. Lee, ranking Lafayette, took the com- mand, upon the junction of their separate detachments. In pursuance of orders, he proceeded to engage the en- emy, but not seemingly with any desire to bring on the action in earnest. A very short trial of strength found him in full retreat — exhibiting a degree of misconduct which the world esteems to have been wilful, and to have been prompted by that incendiary spirit, engendered in the cabal of Conway, the object of which was to baffle the enterprises of Washington, lose him the confidence of the country, and thrust him from the eminent position which he enjoyed. In this pui-pose, however, Lee only wrecked himself. He was already retiring from the field of Monmouth, when Greene, in command of the right 70 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. wing, approached the scene of action. He had been ordered to a particular position in the rear of the ene my's left, but the change of circumstances, which fo lowed upon the hasty flight of Lee, forced upon him the necessity of using his own discretion in the choice of another position ; and here it was, according to the com- mon opinion, that he rendered the most signal service in checking and repelling the pursuit of the British, which must otherwise have proved irresistible. Washington, on first meeting with Lee in full retreat, indignantly re- proached him with his conduct, and commanded him to face about and engage his pursuers at all hazards, while he brought up the main body of the army to his sup- port. Aided by a sharp fire from the artillery of the first line, Lee was enabled to obey these orders. He turned about in good earnest, and, after a spirited but not prolonged conflict, he retired in good order from the field. It was during this conflict that Greene appeared with his column. A movement of the enemy which threatened Washington's right, caused him to order Greene to file off" from the road to Monmouth, and, while the residue of the army pushed directly forward, to win his way into the wood in the rear of the courthouse. He was already on his route, in obedience to his orders, when, foreseeing, from the flight of Lee, that Washington must now be exposed to the whole weight of the ene- my's attack, he suddenly resolved to adapt his own prog- ress to the altered circumstances of the field. He did 80, and took an advantageous position near the British left. This movement, as he had foreseen, diverted their attention from the fire of the American army to his own division. A most furious attack followed, but was en- countered by a cool determination which showed the value of the winter discipline which the anny had under- gone at Valley Forge. The artillery of Greene's divi»- THE BRITISH RETREAT. ?J ion was in tlie charge of General Knox, and, well posted upon a commanding situation, poured in a most destruc- tive fire upon the assailants. Seconded by the infantry, who steadily held their ground, and gave volley upon vol- ley from their small-arms, wdth equal rapidity of fire and excellence of aim, the advance of the enemy was checked. Repeated efforts of the British serve only to renew their disappointments and increase their losses. Their shat- tered battalions, which had been greatly thinned by the murderous volleys, were at length withdrawn from the field, and were finally driven back, under the united ad- vance of Greene's and Wayne's infantry, with great loss, to the position which they first occupied when Lee began the attack. Reconnoitred in this position, with all their strength concentrated for its defence, Washington perceived the fruitlessness of an}'- renewal of the assault. The American army retired accordingly, and slept upon their arms that night, Greene, like his commander, taking his repose, without couch or pillow, on the naked gi'ound, and with no other shelter than a tree, beneath the broad canopy of heaven. Nor was this shelter sought, or this repose found, until the wounded had been placed in due keeping, and every soldier who had fought in his divis- ion had been solaced with the best food that the camp supplied. With the dawn of morning the enemy was gone. They had halted only long enough for a slight rest and refreshment, and then silently stole away, wi ,a such rapidity, as, when their retreat was made known, put them beyond the chances of pursuit. If the Ameri- cans did not win a victory at Monmouth, they acquired many advantages from the combat. Their conduct be- trayed the effects of discipline and service — showed large improvements in both respects, and led to larger hopes and expectations from their continued exeiiciso Lee's disobedience of orders, assuming a discretion which 72 LIFE OF NATUANAEL GREENE. the result did not justify, was probably the true reason why a complete victory had not been obtained ; yet, if Lee lost the victory by his disobedience, it is quite as certain that Greene's departure from orders, insured the final safety of the army, after the first disaster had endangered it. His quickness, the excellence of his judgment in the choice of a new position in the moment of exigency, and the firmness with which he maintained it, greatly contrib- uted to raise his reputation. The cloud of war continued to pass to the northward. Clinton reached New York in security, while Washing- ton inclined to the left, in order to defend the Jerseys, and secure the passes of the Highlands. . The American forces were now in a condition to attempt offensive op- erations. Their conduct at Monmouth had inspirited the hopes of the people, and the arrival of a French fleet, under D'Estaign, which was decidedly superior to that of the British, encouraged to the boldest enterpri- ses. An attack, of the combined troops of France and America, was jDlanned against the British forces in Rhode Island. -They had held the town of Newport, since the fall of 1776, and Clinton, on his retreat from Philadel- phia, had increased the strength of his arms in that quar- ter, and abundantly supplied them with all the munitions of war. To be in train for making an attempt on this position, Washington, on the first advices of a French fleet to be expected, detached Sullivan to Rhode Island with a small anny of observation, and with a power to make requisitions upon the neighboring militia. When the French fleet did arrive, after a grievous season of delay, Lafayette was sent, with a reinforcement, to join Sullivan. Greene soon followed, and from him, though serving under Sullivan, the largest expectations were formed. He, himself, was anxious for service in his na- tive state; and he gladly yielded the duties of the quar* CONDUCT OF THE FRENCH. 73 termaster-generars department, for those of more conspic- uous performance in the field. His arrival was welcomed with delight, volunteers crowded to his standard, and the utmost confidence of the result prevailed equally among the people and the troops. On the 8th of August, the French fleet entered Narraganset bay, under a heavy fire from the British batteries, which they quickly passed. Preparations for the attempt on Newport were then be- gun. A plan of attack was arranged for the next day, but was delayed till the 10th, "in consequence of the non-arrival of certain troops of Massachusetts and New Hampshire." Meanwhile, Pigot, who commanded the British, became alarmed for his outer line and withdrew the troops from it within the lines by which the town was immediately defended, thus abandoning without a blow, at least two thirds of the island. With the discov- ery of this proceeding, Sullivan instantly crossed, with his whole force, to the island, and occupied the lines which had been abandoned by the enemy. This move- ment gave serious offence to Count D'Estaign, a captain who stood very much on etiquette. The next day, in- stead of being employed in action, was consumed in dis- cussion ; and while D'Estaign was proving himself a very prince of punctilio, a new party appeared in the field, to engage in the dispute after another fashion. This was Lord Howe, in command of the British fleet. It was still in the power of the allied forces to have captured Newport. The fate of the British garri- son was inevitable. The French fleet lay in a position of complete security, and the only hcpe of the wily British admiral, was in beguiling his conceited adversary fi'om the game which was certain, to the doubtful issue of a sea-fight. Melancholy to say, he was successful in his object. The French count, who had been captious in asserting his supposed authority and resenting fan- 4 74 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. cied slights from the first moment that he showed himself in the country, held it a point of honor to accept the chal- lenge of the British fleet, in advance of all other consid- erations. He was thus carried out to sea, several days* 5ail,. manoeuvring to get the weather-gage, and finally losing the very object of his quest, in a furious gale, wh ch separated the rival fleets, and scattered them over the ocean. Left thus to their own resources, the situation of the Americans became embarrassing, if not full of danger. There were but eight thousand men fit for duty, and more than half of these were militia. The British were nearly the same number, well chosen, under excellent discipline, and protected by the most admirable works of art. To carry the place by storm was out of the question. To maintain themselves against the enemy, when any amount of reinforcements could be brought in twenty-four hours from New York, was not possible ; yet, to abandon an enterprise which had been undertaken under such encouraging auspices, and when they might hourly look for the reappearance of the French fleet, was a resolution which the American general was exceed- ingly loath to adopt. Thus undecided, an attempt was made to operate by leaguer ; but, before ground could be broken, a storm of the greatest violence arose, which, for three days, raged with a fury such as marks only the terrible hurricanes of the lower latitudes. The opera- tions of the army were suspended ; their tents, tools, and provisions, destroyed ; ammunition and arms made unfit for service; and the hearts of the soldiery, already daunted by the disappearance of their allies upon whom they had counted so confidently, were oppressed by the most gloomy auguries. Ten days of painful suspense followed, in which the Americans lay before the garrison of the enemy, divided between hope and apprehension. CONDITION OF THE FRENCH FLEET. 75 and distressed by the most humiliating incertitude. For- tunately, during this period, though Clinton was making his preparations for the relief of the place, no enterprises were attempted by the British which could increase their perils. At length, the French fleet reappeared, and bore in toward the land. But the storm had made itself felt among their shattered frigates. Full of confidence, and sanguine now of success from the co-operation of their allies, the Americans prepared to prosecute the assault on Newport. But, what was their discomfiture when apprized by D'Estaign that he was no longer in a situation to afford them any assistance. He was com- pelled to go to Boston to refit. It was all-important to the American general to effect a change in this resolu- tion. Greene and Lafayette were accordingly despatched to the fleet to confer with the French commander. It was in vain that they argued and entreated. The co- operation of two days only was implored ; and Greene pledged himself that, under cover of the guns from the shipping, he would plant himself firmly within the lines of the enemy. But the French count was inflexible. We have already seen that he had his weaknesses. The miserable regard to etiquette which had prompted him to forego the game within his grasp, for that which might, and did, elude it, w^as in proof, to a certain degree, of his incompetence for such a trust as that which had been confided to him. For his farther conduct, there is some excuse. He was unpopular with his officers ; and the council of war, which had been called to decide upon the arguments and entreaties of the American general, sufficed to show to Greene the progress of such a spirit of discontent and disaffection on ooard the French fleet, as might well render its admiral reluctant to engage in any enterprises of great responsibility. It does not concern us to inquire the causes of D'Estaign's 7G LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. unpopulanty with his officers. Enough that it senedto deprive the Americans of all the anticipated succor from their allies Great was the mortification and indig:nation of Greene, when compelled to carry back to the camp the final refusal of the French admiral. There, it produced noth- ing but dismay. Another effort was made to stay the departure of the fleet ; or, at least, to secure the co-oper- ation of the land forces. But it proved equally ineffec- tual with the former. D'Estaign pursued his voyage to Boston ; and, to increase the fears and dangers of the Americans, it was now understood that Clinton was rap- idly approaching from New York. These tidings com- pleted their panic and disappointment. The militia could no longer be detained. That very night, they deserted in such numbers, that, with the morning, Sullivan found his force reduced from eight to five thousand men. The situation of the army had now become sufficiently perilous ; and, in silence and darkness, on the night of the 28th of August, the camp was broken up ; the whole American force retreating to the shelter of a couple of redoubts, which had been raised on the north end of the island. Their departure was discovered with the dawn, and a pursuit was instantly commenced by the British in two strong columns. Greene, with the gallant regiments of Colonels Livingston and Laurens, covered the retreat- ing movement ; and, under their steady valor and admi- rable order, the whole army reached its point of desti- nation, and was at once drawn up in order of battle. They had scarcely put themselves in tiim for fighting, when a brisk fire from the enemy announced their close approach. Under the belief that they had pressed forward in detached bodies, which might be cut off separately, Greene was for marching out to meet them promptly, and before the several divisions could arrive to the support AFFAIR AT NEWPORT. 77 of each other ; but this counsel was rejected as too full of peril. The troops were held on the defensive, only. Greene commanded on the right, and, from a redoubt in his front, a cannonading was maintained throughout the day upon the enemy. This was warmly answered from an opposite hill, of which the British had possession. At two in the afternoon, they made an attempt to turn the American right, and concentrated on this point all the effective force which could be brought to operate. Reinforcements were soon ordered to this point, and the engagement that followed was equally prolonged and desperate. Here, Greene was in immediate command. His force was doubled by that of the assailants, but his troops were among the best in the army, and now amply declared, by their cool and steady valor, the admirable tuaining which they had received at Valley Forge. He was not less fortunate in his officers. They sustained the unequal conflict with a spirit worthy of the most stubborn veterans ; and the enemy was finally repulsed with great slaughter — repulsed, rather than defeated. The British were picked soldiers, also ; and they retired, in good order, to the hill from which they had descended to the attack. The engagement was a partial one. It relieved the Americans from present j^ressure, but did not extricate them from their difficulties. Though not conclusive, it did honor to the American arms, and was particularly gratifying, in its results, to Greene, who was fio-htinof in siofht of his birthplace. Hundreds of the militia, who emptied their guns from walls and fences, were nerved to the most desperate exertions, as they felt that they fought beneath the eye of one of their own kindred. Greene, himself, felt how many eyes of kin- dred — how many dear friends and old associates — were watching anxiously the behavior of their former com- rade. There was one, dearer than all in his sight, who, 78 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. sitting by their own lonely hearthstone, could hear the deep and hollow reverberation of every shot, in the long and heavy cannonade that day. The battle was resumed, at long shot, with the next. But, ** though most vigor- ously pursued and repeatedly attacked," was the language of the very enemies of Greene, " yet, in every quarter where an opening was made, he took his measures so well, and had chosen his posts so judiciously, that, although much honor was claimed and deserved on both sides, he gained the north end of the island without sus- taining any considerable loss." He barely saved his distance in doing so. Another day, and the Americans would have been totally cut off by the overwhelming force, with which, the very night of his departure, Sir Henry Clinton appeared on the ground. He found the nest still warm. The Americans had crossed to the main in security; and their assailants, warned by the shai-pness and loss of the previous encounter, were not sufficiently desperate to pursue them. DEFENCE OP SULLIVAN. "JS^ CHAPTER VI. Greene defends Sullivan for the Affair in Rhode Island. — Difficulties with Congress in regard to the Duties of duartermaster-General. — Anecdote of his Brother. — Resigns from his Office, and offends Congress. — De- bates in that Body. — Greene commands at the Battle of Springfield. The failure of this expedition, on the part of the Amer- icans, from whom so much had been expected, occasioned deep mortification, and a wide excitement. Blame fell heavily upon the officers in command of the expedition, and Greene naturally came in for his share of the reproach. A visit to the abode of his father, which he took occasion to make about this time, was chiefly employed in prepar- ing an elaborate exposition of the true causes of the failure of the enterprise, in an energetic defence of Sul- livan. This paper appears in the form of a letter, in which a frank and generous ardor speaks unreservedly the opinions of a mind secure in its position, and gov- erned by the most uncalculating rectitude. His visit to his birthplace was thus employed in a manner which was quite inconsistent with the opportunity afforded him and the objects by which he was surrounded. In the homestead of his youth, with the old familiar faces in his sight, one would naturally seek escape from the thoughts of sti'ife and the recollections of war. Greene had now been more than three years away from his home. He had only once passed through it, in all this time, while liun-ying from the siege of Boston to the defence of Long Island. During this period, change had necessarily been at work. The administration of his affairs had been confided to O LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE, Others. The family estate had been divided, he simply assenting: to all that had been done, and takiner and re- ceiving-, with/Dut inquiry, the portion which had been allotted him. A few days only were stolen for his delay at Coventry, when he hurried on to Boston, where he was called by his duties as quartermaster-general. Here he strove, and not unsuccessfully, to conciliate Count D'Estaign, whom his former deportment had greatly prepossessed in his favor. This labor of love was equally politic and amiable. It was one evil result of the failure of the expedition against Newport, that it prompted the American officers to such an expression of their indig- nation, at the conduct of the French, as must have gi-eatly vexed the self-esteem and increased the soreness of the latter. Sullivan, himself, had expressed himself in language of a character which was likely to be greatly offensive to the government of France. To soften the offence, and mollify the feelings which it might produce, was equally the care of Washington and Greene. An opportunity occurred to the latter, in which his prompt decision was of the last importance in preventing new cause of provocation. It was desirable that Congress should be put in possession of all the facts relating to the expedition against Newport, through some confiden- tial agent, having authority to speak, and without resort- ing to any means, such as a court of inquiry, which would give publicity to the particulars obtained. Greene was sent by Washington for the purpose of making these revelations. He repaired to Philadelphia, and, by a unanimous vote of Congress, was invited to a seat on the floor, and shown to a chair beside the president. Henry Laurens at this time occupied the chair; and, but a few moments had elapsed, after Greene had taken his scat, when a communication from the governor of Rhode Island was announced, and an order passed that it should TACT OF GREENE IN CONGRESS. 81 be read. Conceiving, instantly, tlie character of the docu- ment, and that it embodied the same feehng and senti- ments with those of Sullivan and others, which had al- ready given so much offence, Greene seized the moment, while the clerk was unsealing the envelope, to convey to ^he president a slip of paper, on which he had written, ' For God's sake, do not let that paper be read until you have looked it over." His suspicion was instantly adopt- ed by the president, who, in a whisper, aiTested the progress of the clerk. A call for the order of the day, judiciously intei-posed at this moment, diverted attention from the governor's despatch, which, in fact, embodied a remonstrance against the conduct of D'Estaign, such as could not but have painfully outraged the French minister, who, v/ith his suite, D'Estaign himself, and other distinguished persons of his nation, was, at that very mo- ment, in the gallery. It is difficult to say what might have been the degree of mischief done, had not the happy tact of the Rhode Island blacksmith interposed for its prevention. Greene, in fact, was quite as much a politi- cian as a general. The year 1778 terminated without affording any op- portunity of distinction to our subject, except in his capa- city of quartei-m aster-general. With the departure of Sul- livan from Rhode Island, the British ai-my under Clinton re- turned to New York. Their enterprises were no longer of a character to merit the attention of the historian. They degenerated into predatory expeditions only, in which recklessness rather than courage, crime rather than com- bat, were the distinguishing features. The details of this career, as it nowhere involves the progress of Greene, will not require more of our notice. The campaign of 1779 opened with characteristics not much more reputable. In- deed, all thmgs tended to show that the British army,hopc- less of making any decided impression in a region whero 82 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. tne nature of the climate and the characteristics of the country offered few opportunities of successful enterprise, and where the absence of available wealth among the peo- ple, held forth as few inducements to it, had really relin- quished all hopes of effecting a conquest of the states north of the Chesapeake. Their eyes were now naturally turned upon the southern states, where a more scattered popu- lation, and, in some places, greater opulence, promised a more easy progress and more abundant spoils. The north- ern armies, on both sides, were now chiefly employed ir, watching each other, seizing upon small lapses of conduct, and engaging in enterprises, which afforded employment rather than results. The British government, during this campaign, appeared scarcely sensible of the neces- sity of making adequate efforts to reduce the colonies, strengthened as they were by foreign alliance ; and was, in fact, too busily employed upon the ocean and abroad, to concentrate her resources upon this object. The Americans, on the other hand, were, in a large degree, enfeebled by this very alliance, and attached so much importance to what was to be done for them by France, that, in the northern states, at least, they were scarcely disposed to do anything for themselves. New England, in particular, from the moment of the withdrawal of the enemy from her own coasts and cities, and the appear- ance of the foreign auxiliaries in the country, regarded the contest with an apathy and indifference strangely in conflict with her previous activity and warmth. To a certain extent, as a natural consequence of the inactivity of the Biitish, this apathy prevailed in all the colonics. It did not, however, prevent the growth of jealousies and dissensions, such as ordinarily flow from the selfish hopes of partisans, and the diseased ambition of distinguished men. Assuming the war as really at an end, — calculating largely upon the simple effect of the DISSENSIONS IN CONGRESS. 83 alliance with France as conclusive to this effect, — not regarding how much more naturally such an alliance- would provoke the worst passions of the British, rather than their fears, and bring down upon the colonies the whole volume of that long-nursed national prejudice and hostility which had been engendered between the two great nations by the protracted strifes of centuries, the Americans yielded themselves up to those domestic strug- gles for power and place, which, but for their premature assumjDtion of safety, would never, perhaps, have been allowed to discredit their honorable achievements. Con- gress was the theatre for these dissensions. It was rap- idly growing into disrepute among the people. The states had their own discontents and strifes, and no longer felt disposed to comply with the federal requisitions. The army, badly clothed and fed, and impatient of the neg- lect which answered its complaints and expostulations — worn out with the drudgery of the war, without being •enlivened with the excitements of battle — was daily sinking in repute and lessening in numbers. The system by which it was to be sustained, that of depending upon the states for the maintenance of quotas, instead of re- sorting to regular enlistments, was one of fatal errors, against which the intelligent officers of the army were remonstrating always, and constantly in vain. Public credit, a subject equally important, needing even more fostering, was rapidly undergoing destruction in the equally unwise system of resorting to expedients, instead of, at once, honestly and frankly declaring a necessity, and boldly advancing to contend with it. In this con- dition of things, nothing was done toward the promotion of the cause of independence ; nothing, certainly, was gained for its popularity ; and, in all probability, a great deal already gained was forfeited. The year 1779 was marked by nothing in the councils of the nation, and as 04 LIFE OF NATHANAEL CREENE. little in the business of the field, which could confei credit upon the revolution, or render its progress per- manent. No general action occurred to call Greene away from the bureau of the quartermaster-general, in which, by the way, he endured as much toil, and enjoyed as few consolations, as could have been found under any for- tunes, directly in the pathway of a powerful enemy. The ambitious strifes and dissensions in Congress did not, of course, suffer him, or his administration of affairs, to escape severe and unfriendly comment. If the mem- bers of that great national council could not perform themselves, they had sufficient leisure for prompt judg- ment on the performances of others. The departments of the quartermaster and commissary were subjects of particular inquiry, and the most unfounded complaints were put in circulation against the mode in which their duties were administered. There is a vicious appetite in man, that makes it rather grateful to him to listen to th© story of his neighbor's shame ; and the ear which hearkens only to a conjecture and a suspicion of miscon- duct, is very apt, in the next moment, to find for it a tongue of evil, which soon converts it to a tale of crime. Greene suffered fii-om these suspicions. Secure in the favorable opinion of Washington, and in the approving voice of his own conscience, though stung and mortified to the quick by indirect imputations which he could not condescend to combat, he was only persuaded to retain his office in consideration of the difficulties by which it w^aa environed, and of the vital importance, to the cause, of its energetic administration. But rumors, equally of his incompetence, and against his honesty, continued to circulate. They, at length, reached the ears of his kin- dred, and occasioned an interesting and touching incident, which reflects honorably on the character of that train- ing by which the venerable old quaker, his sire, had GREENE AND HIS BROTHER. 85 Striven to inform the sensibilities of his children, with an appetite as eager for virtuous name, as for popular renown. The report which disparaged the honest fame of our subject, at length, reached one of his brothers in Rhode Island. Greene's quarters, at this time, were near Morristown. The parties were separated by a space of nearly two hundred miles ; yet, the moment that the brother heard the humiliating story, he took horse and hurried to the army. G-reene's cordial recep- tion of his guest met with no answenng sympathy. The brother, before he opened his heart to the embrace which it yet solicited, was first to learn that he dealt with an honest man. He demanded a private interview, which was at once vouchsafed him. " I am come, brother," he said, in a voice nearly choked by emotion, '* to inform you that you are charged with improper conduct in your office. Are you innocent ]" With an affectionate smile, a calm voice, clear countenance, and a hand pressed upon his heart, Greene answered, instantly, "I am!" The assurance was satisfactory. The brother knew, from the experience of long and trusting years, what degree of confidence could be yielded to such an assu- rance. It was then that he embraced him, and, happy and relieved, he departed as suddenly as he came. He had but one object in the interview, and, the single inter- rogation answered, he had no other motive for delay. But the communication sunk deeply into the heart of Greene. He had met the inquiry of his brother with a smile. With clear and unembarrassed brow and eye, he had answered the painful question ; but he did not the less suffer from the cruel wound which it inflicted, and he resolved, as soon as possible, to break away from the shackles of an office, equally responsible and burden- some, in which he had toiled without regard to selfish considerations — in spite of them indeed — and had 86 LIFE OP NATIIANAEL GREENE. reaped reproach and suspicions, instead of gratitude Fortunately for the fame of Greene, calumny itself, with all its agents, was not able to oppose the unquestionable evidence which his friends could produce, in favor of the administration of his department, and in proof of his own integrity. Congress, after an inquiry, passed a reso- lution, declaring its confidence in his ability and integ- rity. Greene was sufficiently soothed by this resolution to listen to the entreaties of the commander-in-chief, and of the army, that he would not relinquish the department he had so ably managed. But calumny was not so easily silenced : the creature was very soon, again, at her dirty work. A remnant of the old faction of Conway, no longer able to hurt Washington, were always eager to wreak their malice upon Greene. To such a degree did they carry this malice, that it was even designed, if pos- sible, to deprive him of his command in the line. But their most obvious game was to impeach his integrity. He was supposed, or asserted, to have made a fortune by his office ; while, in truth, he was about to retire from it something poorer than when he entered it. It had been to him, indeed, like that supper of the Barmecides, in the Arabian tale, in which, without a single dish be- fore him, he was required to fancy that he enjoyed the most delicious variety. A resolution from the treasury board required a statement of his accounts. For thi« performance, but twenty-seven days were allowed him. He expostulated agq.inst the unreasonable and oppres- sive requisition, demonstrating the moral and physical impossibility of traversing such a wide and various field of investigation in such a space of time. An additional month was grudgingly allowed him, while a committee was ap2:)ointed to inquire into the condition of his de- partment. The investigation resulted in his triumph. The members of this comraittre, to borrow the language Greene's troubles in office. 87 of one of them, ** entered upon the investigation with the strongest prejudices, and closed it with a unanimous conviction of his ability, fidelity, and zeal." Here, then, was a favorable opportunity for Greene to withdraw from the ungracious sei'vice in which he was engaged, and resume his station in the line, which he had always greatly preferred ; but Washington was unwilling to lose him, in a capacity in which he could render services of so much importance ; and a scheme for the regulation of the department was drawn up by the commander-in chief, in conjunction with a committee of Congress, which Greene entirely approved of, and which he pro- fessed himself willing to administer, without other pay than that which accrued to him from his commission as major-general. But C on gross, with its numerous- amend- ments, so mutilated the plan submitted by Washington through its own committee, as to depart from all its most essential particulars. Under these circumstances, Greene no longer hesitated to make his escape from an office, in which he had neither enjoyed repose, nor realized profit. There was no sufficient motive to remain in a depart- ment which subjected him to equal annoyance and mor- tification. His preference was wholly given to active duties in the line ; and indeed, as we remember, he had stipulated for the privilege of resuming his military rank and duties whenever a general engagement was antici- pated. Thus feeling and desiiing, it was with a senti- ment of relief and pride that he covered his resignation to Congress, of the office of quartermaster-general, re- questing that body to appoint his successor without loss of time. He declared his own resolution no longer to officiate in the office, except so far as was necessary to close up his accounts, and to set fairly in operation the new system, as adopted, for the future government of the department. 88 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. This letter, so proud in tone and so peremptory in requisition, gave great offence to Congress, and was instantly seized upon, as so much capital for hostile declamation, on the part of his own and the enemies of Washington. One member immediately rose, and pro- posed that he be dismissed from the service altogether. He had warm and powerful friends in the house, who combated this attack. A keen and exciting discussion followed, which ended in referring the letter of Greene to a committee. The report of this committee embodied the hostile sentiment, and concluded with a resolve, that " the resignation of Nathanael Greene be accepted, and that he be informed that Congress have no farther use for his services." lliis report proves something more than hostility to Greene. It proves that the party against Washington was in the ascendency in Congress. But neither his nor Greene's friends, in that body, were pre- pared to suffer the question to go by default. For ten days, the report was under consideration ; and, during the greater part of this time, was the subject of fierce discussion. Still, Congress was exacting, and the sup- posed offender incorrigibly firm. He better knew his grounds of security than did his enemies. The discus- sion was not confined to Congress. The people and the army partook of the excitement, and Greene felt sure of a verdict of acquittal and approval at their hands, if he might look in no higher quarter. His cause, indeed, was that of the army. They needed no arguments, in his behalf, more satisfactory than their better care and provision, their increased comforts and resources, during his administration, than they had ever enjoyed when Mifflin, the leader; in Congress, of the opposition against him, had occupied the very office in which Greene had superseded him. But the excitement gradually subsided. Warned by the threateni'i.g aspect of the army, exhorlod GREENE RESIGNS AS QUARTERMASTER. 89 by the letters of Washington himself, and recovering, by delay, a better tone and temper than had lately impressed their deliberations, Congress gradually cooled off; and, when the vote was finally taken, his resignation as quar- termaster-general was accepted, as tendered, without any farther allusions to his commission in the line. In the former capacity, Greene was succeeded by Colonel Pickering ; but for two months he still continued to execute the duties of the office, and prepare it for his successor. He had borne the heavy burthen for nearly three years, and had placed the department in very good condition, all circumstances considered. His successor, though of unquestionable abihty and integrity, was not so fortunate. The department suffered in his hands ; and six months' experiments were sufficient to satisfy the woi-st enemies of Greene, as well as his best friends, how much injury had been done to the country by the cap- tious and ciniel interference which had driven him from duties he was so peculiarly calculated to fulfil. The hostility against our subject began to subside the moment he was relieved from the office which he had only continued to hold by the persuasions of others, and against his own desires. He gladly resumed his duties in the line. We have noted his military career to the close of the campaign in Rhode Island. A brief sum- mary of- events, in the history of the war, is perhaps ne- cessary for the purpose of preserving the continuity of our naiTative. Withdrawing his troops from Rhode Island, somewhere in the autumn of 1779, Sir Henry Clinton proceeded, with all despatch, to New York, whei^ he apprehended the arrival of D'Estaign, with his fleet cnce more refitted, and prepared for some leading enterprise. The French commander was now operating with Lincoln against Savannah, which was in possession of the British. With the fall of Savannah, which was cnnfi 96 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. dently ant'cipated, D'Estaign was to unite with the com* mander-in-chief in an attempt upon New York. But Savannah did not fall. Admirably defended by the Brit- ish, the united forces of the French and Ameiicans re- coiled, with terrible loss, from its batteries, which the injudicious indulgence and overweening confidence of D'Estaign, in his own strength, had given the enemy sufficient time to perfect. This defeat was one of the disasters which contributed to the final conquest of South Carolina, the troops of which state sufiiered severely at Savannah. Disgraced and mortified, D'Estaign, instead of moving upon New Yoi-k, sailed for the West Indies, while the ariival of a strong British fleet under Arbuth- not, enabled Clinton to operate offensively, and to con- centrate all his energies for the prosecution of a design, long entertained, and twice already defeated, upon Charleston and the southern states. It was in Decem- ber, 1779, that the British general sailed from New York,, with the best part of his army, on his expedition against Charleston, leaving behind him a force under Generals Knyphausen and Patterson, which was deemed quite equal to the duty of keeping at bay the skeleton regi- ments under Washington. Had the New England troops been only half as numerous in the field as they have ever been on paper, New York must have fallen ; but the American army under the commander-in-chief, was really less in numbers than the garrison in that city. It will not concern us to pursue the career of Clinton in the south. Suffice it, that Charleston was taken, and the Bntish general returned to New York on the 17th of June, 1780. During his absence, his substitutes were busy in enterprises rather petty — and perhaps profita- ble — than brilliant ; acquiring reputation as successful marauders, rather than daring conquerers. With the return of Clinton, preparations Vv-ere made for something BRITISH THREATEN SPRINGFIELD. 91 more serious on the part of the British ; and the Ameri- can general was kept on the qui vive, uncertain where to look for the approaching danger. Anxious for the safety of his garrison on the North river, Washington left Greene, with two brigades of continentals and the Jer- sey militia, at Springfield, in New Jersey; while he, himself, moving slowly but steadily for the north, pre- pared to take command at West Point. The move ments of the British general seemed to menace this re gion. His complete command of the New York waters, naturally indicated West Point as accessible to enter- prise ; and this citadel of the nation, which held its armo- ries and magazines, and constituted the key to a wide and important interior, compelled Washington to antici- pate every danger by which it might be threatened, and to make its safety conspicuous in his regards over almost every other consideration. But he had not proceeded a dozen miles from Morristown, on his march for the north, when, on the 23d of June, the heads of the British columns were advanced from Elizabethtown in the direction of Springfield. It was here that a considerable supply of mil- itary stores and munitions of war had been deposited ; and the force of the British, now moving on this quarter, con- sisting of five thousand men, a large body of cavalry, and fifteen or twenty pieces of artillery, commanded by Clin- ton in person, was quite too large to leave it doubtful that his demonstration was a serious one. Washington was soon advised, by express from Greene, of the threat- ened danger to his post, while the latter prepared with all his energies to meet the emergency. This was the first occasion in which he was in possession of an inde- pendent command; and he soon satisfied all parties of hiis admirable capacity to enjoy it. No movement of tho enemy had been taken without his knowledge, and with the first show of dansrer, the commander-in-chief waa 92 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. apprized of its approach. To do much with small means is one of the highest proofs of excellence in any sort of performance. It is, perhaps, one of the most admirable tests of a genius for the military. Greene's force was an humble one, and it was employed in detail to guard nu- merous passes. To draw together his detached bodies, was the first necessity, and to economize time in doing so, was a part of this necessity. To hasten the remote detachments to a point of rendezvous, and to order the several bodies, more within his control, to advance and retard the progress of the enemy, were simultaneous, and the work of an instant. About eight miles from Elizabeth point the village of Springfield lies, upon the western bank of the Rahway, a little stream formed by the confluence of two other and smaller streams. A range of hills formed the back- ground, and was the position, naturally a strong one, which the American army occupied. The village was accessible by two roads from Elizabethtown, one run- ning through Springfield, the other north of it. The usual facilities for crossing the Rahway and its branches, by fords and bridges, were present, and rendered the stream itself no sort of obstacle to an enemy's approach. To guard these bridges, three in number, and to cover the two great routes which led to them, were the only means of protecting the village ; but this required such an ex- tensive front as was scarcely within the compass of Greene's numbers to exhibit. His proper policy, there- fore, was to push forward select bodies to check the ad- vance of the British columns separately, as they approach- ed on the different roads, while, from his position on the heights, he could extend succor to either of these bodies, as they separately seemed to require it. Colonel Dayton was advanced, accordingly, to skirmish with the left col- umn of the enemy, v/hile Major Lee, afterward famous SKIRMISHES ON THE RAHWAY. 9S aa ih« leader of the partisan legion, with his dragoons and a small force of infantry, was despatched to perform the same duty against their right. The whole force of Greene was but thirteen hundred men, and of these, three hundred were militia. He disposed these, as we have seen, to the best advantage, to economize their strength, and gain time ; and he had no reason to complain of the manner in which the skirmishing forces under Lee and Dayton performed the tasks assigned them. They made a spirited resistance to the enemy's approach, and offered all the opposition that squadrons so inferior could make ; but without being able to prevent the junction of the as- sailing columns, which at length united upon the main road, and made their appearance almost as soon as Grreene's ti'oops, on the right bank of the Rahway, were drawn out to receive them. His artillery was posted behind the bridges by which the principal stream was crossed ; that of the enemy was in advance of his col- 'imns. A brisk cannonade ensued, which continued with great spint for nearly two hours. The manoeuvres of the British, meanwhile, manifested a desire to turn the American left, and thus get into its rear. This, as Greene well knew, was practicable. Both the streams from which the Rahway took its rise, were passable, as well by fords as by the bridge on the Vauxhall road. The possession of the hills in his rear would be decisive against him. It was necessary, therefore, that a new position should be taken; and Lee, with the pickets un- der Walker, and assisted by Ogden, was assigned to the defence of the bridge over the southern branch of the Rahway ; to the regiment of Shreve was given in charge the upper bridge, over the chief branch, while Colonel Angel, with a like force, and one field-piece, was left to defend the passage of the principal stream. With the residue of his force, consisting of Stark's and Max- 94 LIFE OF NATHANAEL QKEENB. well's brigades, Greene retired to a strong position among the hills in the rear, his flanks being guarded bj^ militia. With the first movement of the main body, the British advanced upon the bridge which was held by Angel. Their assault, aiming to force the passage, was fell and furious. They were resisted, however, with a rare spirit, and recoiled from their first onset with loss and confu- sion. But this success was, necessarily, temporary only. How could such a handful of men resist, for any length of time, a formidable column of the foe, flushed with con- fidence in experience and numbers, and bringing with them ten pieces of artillery. The assault was renewed, but the struggle was maintained, stubbornly, for fifty minutes, until one fourth of the force of the American colonel were killed or wounded. It was not then, nor until he knew that Greene had reached his destined position, that Angel drew off his division, bringing away with him his artillery and wounded, and coolb;. and in good order, retiring to the other bridge, whe^ c 'c^hreve was in position. Equally obstinate was the defence mad < V/ Lee at the pass confided to his keeping. Assaile/i ry the right column of the enemy, he met the attack >i'.h a firmness and gallantry, which only forebore the fi*,ruggle in the moment of its utter hopelessness. '£h'^i etream was already crossed, by a considerable body of the enemy, at an upper ford ; and these, haTi-if; gained a hill by which his position was command'vd, compelled Lee, very reluctantly, to abandon the pos^ v^hich he had so nobly held. Pushing on at the heck of these two divisions, the British encountered ths detachment under Shreve, now strengthened by th^ ui^ited battalions of Lee and Angel. Animated by the gallant example of the troops under these officers, tho*5e of Shreve prepared to give a THE BRITISH BURN SPRINGFIELD. 95 lio less determined reception to the enemy. The onset of the British was met with a welcome of shot and steel which made them shy and reluctant; and, though ad- vancing still, they did so in a manner sufficiently modest, to enable Shreve to retire, coolly and without confusion, upon the main body. Here, with his regular force drawn up in a single line, in a commanding position, flanked by the dragoons and militia, Greene calmly stood in waiting for the general battle. But the enterprise of the assailants had been wonderfully cooled by the obsti- nate conflicts through which they had already gone. They had been handled too roughly, by the small divisions with which they had been engaged, to venture upon the entire force of the Americans, while they pre- sented a front so determined, and occupied a position so strong. Taught to fear by the loss which they had already sustained, and stung to fury for the same reason, they sought for their victims among these from whose weapons they had nothing to apprehend. Avoiding the conflict which Greene stood j^repared to give them, they concentrated their wrath upon the defenceless vil- lage ; and the flames of its houses soon apprized the American general of the sort of vengeance which the British were disposed to seek. Then it was, that the shai'pshooters of the Americans, and the militia, pantipg to avenge the sufferings of their houseless innocents, were let slip upon the scattered marauders. They stole dotvn to the scene of conflagration ; and many a Briton, that day, perished by the light of the very flame which his incendiary torch had kindled. With the general conflagration of the village — for only four, out of fifty, dwellings escaped — the British begun their retreat, hastened, no doubt, by apprehensions of the approach of Washington. Small parties of the Americans were instantly pushed forward, to hang upon their wings ard 96 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. harass their flight ; while the brigade of Starke was also put in motion for direct pursuit. Washington had ah'eady despatched three hundred men to Greene's assistance, and was, himself, rapidly huiTying to the scene of action. But the celerity with which the British fled, unencumbered by any baggage, and protected by a powerful rear-guard, saved them from any farther injury than that which they had sustained in the encounters of the day, and in the after-gleanings which were made, of deliberately-chosen victims, by the rifles of the enraged militia. The British reached Elizabethtown in safety. and that night recrossed to the city. Their only real achievement, that of the destruction of a hamiless vil- lage, reflected no credit upon their chivalry ; while their failure to efl'ect anything against the vastly inferior force of Greene, was as little creditable to their skill and valor. Gi^eene's reputation as a cool and experienced captain — one of great resources, and of wonderful cir- cumspection — was greatly increased by this afl"air. The Annual Register (British), speaking of the conduct of the Americans on this occasion, remarks : " It was now evident, that the British forces had an enemy little less respectable in the field than themselves to encounter; and that any diff*erence which yet remained in their favor would be daily lessened. In a word, it was now obvious, that all that superiority in aiTns which produced such effects, in the beginning of the contest, was, in a gi-eat measure, at an end; and that the events of the war must, in future, depend upon fortune, and upon the abilities of the respective commanders." CLINTON'S DESIGNS ON THE SOUTH. 97 CHAPTER VII. DemonstTations on New York. — Treason of Arnold. — Greene appointed to the Post at West Point. — Gates's Defeat. — Greene succeeds him in Command of the Southern Army. — Proceeds to the South. — Joins the Amiy at Charlotte, N. C. — Treatment of Gates. With the affair at Springfield, ended, for a season, all the active operations of the campaign. The com- mander of the British seemed disposed to give his troops a respite, and was, perhaps, somewhat restrained from attempting anything at the north, in consequence of the threatened appearance of a fleet and army from France, in co-operation with the Americans. Besides, as already suggested, he was preparing to shift the scene of action, wholly, to the south. By cutting off state by state, in a region whose population was so small, compared with that of the northern porfions of the confederacy, the conquest, it was calculated, might be effected in detail, beginning at the extremities, rather than striking at the centre, to which all the defensive energies of the con- tinent were necessarily directed. The south never, at any time, possessed such an army as was maintained, during the whole war, in the neighborhood of the chief cities of the north. The Americans were inactive from other causes. The succors of France, a fleet and army under De Tierny, arrived early in July. This fleet was superior u' that of the British, and, with the troops which it brought, ought to have secured to the allies equal ascen- dency by land and sea. But this superiority was soon 5 98 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. more than counterbalanced by the arrival of reinforce- ments to the British, under Admiral Graves ; and, though the American militia, encouraged by the strong force brought by their allies, had taken the field with new activity and in considerable numbers, yet, this shovv of spii'it was rendered abortive by the position of the French, whe were blockaded, by a superior fleet, in the harbor of Newport. Clinton prepared to make a dem- onstration on Newport ; while Washington, equally on the alert, stood ready to make a coiTesponding attempt upon New York. By the greatest efforts, the means of transportation were procured, and preparations made for a joint attack by land and water on that city. But Clinton was too vigilant to lose sight of this important position. Discovering his enemy's game, he regained his fortresses by a prompt retrograde movement, which put his stronghold once more in a state of security. With the abandonment of the enterprise against New York, Washington proceeded to Hartford, there to meet and consult with the French commander in regard to future operations. He left the army in charge of Greene. This vigilant general was soon led to suspect that the British commander was meditating a secret movement of great importance. He had established a regular communication with New York, and obtained consider- able intelligence through the medium of his spies ; but these, though satisfied that an important expedi'tion was designed by the enemy, were entirely at fault when it became necessary to define its objects. Conjecture was nearly equally divided between Rhode Isknd and Vir- ginia. The casual language of the enemy, and his open demonstrations, looked equally to these points. Greer e was not to be deceived. He writes to Washington -.aC he suspects " some secret expedition in contemj.lacion ; the success of which depends altogether upon its being TREASON OF ARNOLD. 9Sf "kept secret^'' This letter was written on the 21st of September: the whole mystery was developed on the 23(1, when Andre was taken prisoner, and the treachery of Benedict Arnold discovered. The well-known object of Arnold's negotiation, was the delivery of Wtst Point to the British. The importance of this place to the interests, if not the cause, of Ameiican independence, needs no recital. The moment chosen was particularly auspicious for the British, inasmuch as the arrival of Rodney, with his fleet, not only gave them an abundance of water transportation, but enabled Clinton to engage in a distant enterprise, and yet leave New York in a state of security against the enterprise of the Americans. Greene's first knowledge of the defection of Arnold was derived from a letter of Hamilton, received on the 25th. It explained all that was mysterious in the pro- ceedings of the British. Without delay, he prepared to march the army to the defence of West Point. On the moraing of the 26th, his whole force had been put under marching orders, and, with the second division, in obedience to instructions from Washington, he pushed forward with this command, as far as King's ferry, the remainder of the army being held in readiness to move at any moment. It does not belong to us to narrate the details of Arnold's treachery; and the fate of Andre is too well known to require more than a passing notice. Sent under close guard to the American camp, Washington, in a private letter, gave Greene his instructions. A court of inquiry was convened, to determine upon the case of the prisoner, which was of many novel features. Greene presided at the deliberations of this court, which was composed of men of the highest worth and greatest dignity in the army. The opinion of the court was unanimous. Andre was convicted on his own confession. 100 LIFE OF NATIIAN.AFT. GREENE. Painful as was the duty, it was inevitable, and he waa sentpnced to suffer as a spy. When the report of the sitting, drawn up by Laurens, was handed to Greene for his signature, his head was seen to bend low upon tlie paper, to hide the tear which he could not suppress. The death-warrant bore traces, also, of the regrets of those who, while forced to condemn, were not insensible to pity. The graces and accomplishments of the crim- inal, his manly bearing, his youth, his talents and imputed virtues, were considerations which, could they have been allowed before the court of justice, would have been sure to have made -themselves felt, for his safety, through the awakened sympathies of his judges. But, the neces- sity of the example, the peril upon whose verge the country still stood, were conclusive arguments, which no erjing weakness of the iiidulgent nature could, possibly, oppose. Andre pleaded that the manner of his death might be changed ; but this, too, a rigid justice did not dare to concede. To die as a soldier, was not the award of punishment. The true penalty lay in the infamy of the death. The proceedings of the court were duly communicated to the British commander. Clinton made every effort to save the victim from his doom. Commissioners were sent to the American posts, to argue the propriety of the judgment, and to arrest it if they could. But one of the commissioners. General Robertson, was permitted to land. He was met by Greene, on behalf of the com- mander-in-chief The conference took place at King's ferry. We need not, here, renew the arguments urged on either side. Enough that no legal ingenuity could change the firm convictions of Greene ; and Andre suf- fered, according to his sentence, at the village of Tappan, where, at that time, the principal part of the American army lay encamped. GREENE SUCCEEDS ARNOLD AT WEST POINT. lOi Greene succeeded to the command of the post at West Point, made vacant by the treason of Arnold. He found it in the most shocking confusion ; neglected in most essential respects, and so prepared as to render it an easy prey to the operations of the enemy. To place it in instant readiness against any enterprise, was the pressing necessity, and the proofs remain of his equal wisdom, skill, and diligence. Nor was he suffered to concentrate his whole thoughts and energies upon this one subject. He was the prc?nicr of Washington, held to a constant correspondence with the commander-in- chief, day by day, on subjects, always of importance, and frequently of the gravest and most complex character. This correspondence still exists in equal proof of his own various abilities and of the unlimited confidence which Washington reposed in his judgment and integrity " Thus," says Johnson, " at one time he is called upon to make a full estimate of all the expenses for a year, attendant upon an establishment of thirty-two thousand men. At another,"to sum up the whole annual expense incident to the war, to give a view of the sums paid by each state toward it, and their capacity to continue or increase their present contributions. At another, to consider the expediency of prosecuting the plans of the campaign hitherto pursued, or what changes shall be adopted upon the various exigencies which might occur," &c. These are all hard cipherings, and that Greene should still be required to go through with them, various and difficult as they were, and so little informed by rule as he had been, would go to prove the wonderful facility and resources of his mind, its ready adaptation to novel circumstances, the comprehensiveness of his vis- ion, and the correctness of his judgment — at least in the opinion of the commander-in-chief. But he was soon to change the scene of his opera* J.02 LIFE OF NATHANAFL GREENE. tions, while emerging into a larger scene of action. We have already indicated that change in the plan of invasion by which the British calculated to effect the di- vision or partial defeat, if not the entire coeicion of the colonies. The front of war was now fully turning upon the south. Not that the enemy had hitherto withheld himself from this region. Thrice had South Carolina been inva- ded, twice to the disaster and defeat of the assailants. A third time, overwhelmed with a vastly superior force, at the moment of her greatest weakness and exhaustion, from previous struggles, her capital city had been over- come, and almost the entire regular army assigned to her assistance, with a large portion of her militia, had become prisoners-of-war. Georgia was completely pros- trate, bound hand and foot, and the invader had ad- vanced, with rapid strides, into the very heart of both these states. A small and inadequate force of continen- tals had been pressed forward with too much rapidity, and led headlong to complete overthrow, by the pre- sumptuous rashness of the conqueror of Burgoyne. The news of Gate's defeat at Camden, following close upon the failure of the French allies to effect anything in co- ope lation with AVashington, and the hasty disbandment of the militia, necessarily produced, in the nation, after the first feeling of despondency and dismay, a conviction of the necessity of making new and superior exertions to arrest the progress which the enemy was making in the south. Troops must be raised to reinforce the re- mains of the southern army, and to restore the strength of its skeleton regiments. These troops were to oe drawn wh.olly from the vniiida of the southern states, sinje the eastern soldiers were quite unwilling to be marched away from thc^Ir own abodes. Contingents were called for from INIairyland, Virginia, Delaware, and the Carolinas — from regions which had already felt tho GATES's DEFEAT AT CAxMDEN 103 drain of such requisitions, and were weary of toils that seemed to promise no results. These were not promptly forthcoming, and a no less serious difficulty lay in the choice of a general who should command them. The fields of the south had been particularly unfriendly to the fortunes of foreign generals. Lincoln was a prison- er-of-war, and Gates, late a favorite, was now a fugitive, under cloud and the censure of his country. The de- feat of Gates, in itself a great calamity, since it sacrificed an army, and encouraged wondrously the hopes of the loyalists, was yet not without its advantages, since it took from him that prestige which had been wretchedly employed by the enemies of AVashington as a mean for his discredit and overthrow. Had the commander-in-chief been consulted, when Gates received the appointment of Congress, Greene would have been indicated to the command which wrecked the fortunes of the hero (so called, but eiToneously) of Saratoga. His defeat re- moved from the eyes of Congress those scales of preju- dice, which had hitherto made them blind to the deficien- cies in his character. Taught a severe lesson by the terrible disaster at Camden, they were now better pre- pared to defer their own to the judgment of Washington. He was at length authorized to name a successor of Gates to the command of the southern army. There was no doubt, when tliis resolve was taken, upon whom his choice would fall ; and his preference was confii'm.ed by the declared wishes of the delegates in Congress from the states most conceraed in the event. Washington, prom]>tly, and in an affectionate letter, communicated his desires to Gi'eene. The latter, in modest reply, de- clared his compliance, and only entreated a short leave of absence to " set his house in order," before departing on a distant and perilous expedition. His request was reasonable. He had been more than five years in the 104 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. service, and his private interests had been almost wholly yielded up, without inquiry or examination, to the control and care of others. But the duty was pressing. In his reply, Wasliington says: "I wish circumstances could be made to correspond to your wishes to spend a little time at home previous to your setting out ; hut your mcsencc with your command, as soon, as j^ossihlcy is indis- fcnsahleT So imperative was friendsliip, when coerced by duty ! But Greene's determination had already been made before he received this reply. He was no less quick to feel this indispensable necessity, than his friend to urge it. He writes, in answer : ** I had given up the thought of going home before the receipt of your letter. My affairs required it ; but I was afraid it would take up too much time, considering the critical state of affairs to the southward.^'' A single day's further delay, and he set forward on the rugged path of duty, not waiting even for the embraces of his wife, momently expected, of children scarcely seen, while departing on a jouniey of nearly seven hundred miles. A low fever, which had hung upon him for some time, the fruit of exposure and anxiety, did not suffice to excuse a delay which his sense of duty could not justify in favor of his affections. Greene hastened, first, to headquarters, where his reception was such as declared, not only for the high favor in which he stood with Washington, but for his greatly-increased and lofty reputation with the army. The advice of Washington, solicitous at once for the reputation of Greene, and for the success of his enter- prise, was freely given, and all the assistance promised which he should be able to bestow. Here, too, ready and eager to serve under him, he found some of the noblest spirits of the army — Lafayette, Colonel Laurens, Major Lee, and others — who esteemed his personal worth, and did justice to his rare merits as a soldier. GREENE PROCEEDS TO THE SOUTH. 105 Thus encouraged and assured, Greene hastened to Philadelphia, where he received the instructions of Congress in relation to the campaign, and ascertained the full extent of the resources which were forthcoming for his enterprise. These were few, and sufficiently unjn-omising. The army itself was a merely nominal existence — a shadow, rather than a substance. The fatal defeat of Gates had lost everything in the shape of stores, baggage, and artillery. Every article was to be supplied, and Congress had no money. A small sum, meant only to defray the expenses of his journey, was all that could be procured.; while an attempt to obtain a loan, and contributions of clothing, from the merchants of Philadelphia, resulted only in proving, that govern- ment was as singularly wanting in credit as in cash. But for the friendship and activity of Governor Read, Greene must have set forth upon liis expedition for the south, almost wholly deficient in every requisite, either for himself or his army. Read supplied him with a certain quantity of arms and munitions from the state magazines, and assisted him in procuring the use of bag- gage-wagons for their transportation. The annexation of Delaware and INIaryland to his miUtary department, from which states, hereafter, he might draw contingents, and very liberal promises of future supplies, constituted the full measure of all the support which Congress, at this moment, could contribute to the maintenance of the conflict in the south. Leaving Colonel Febiger behind him in Philadelphia, for no other purpose than to jog the memories of great men in regard to these promises, and forward the supplies as they might accumulate, Greene sot out, on the 23d of November, on his journey to the Carolinas. He was accompanied by Baron Steuben, and his two aids, Major Burnet and Colonel Morris. The journey was a tedious one, which could only have been 106 LIFE OF NAT II AN A EI. GHEENE. relieved by the mode pursued by our travellers, of encountering its monotony by an unwearied regard to ad subjects, which might be considered, in reference to the great objects which they had in view. As the route lay through the capitals of several states, a brief halt at the seat of each government, enabled the general of the southern army to investigate their resources, and to adopt measures with the leading persons of each for supplying and sustaining his army. To awaken them all to a sense of the approaching danger — to show that the cause was a common one, and was only to be ren- dei-ed successful and secure by a common action — was a cliief employment during this progress. To those more remote from the seat of danger, he showed how cer- tainly the fate of the immediate sufferer must be theirs, unless the assailed parties, struggling for life and death, should be seasonably succored; and insisted upon the policy, in its most selfish aspect, of saving, harmless, the sister state, if only that the wolf might be kept from other thresholds. To those on the verge of the danger, with their apprehensions already awakened for their own safety, he showed the necessity of firmness, promptitude, and a manly readiness to meet and brave the worst, as the true secret at once of security and patriotism. In order the more perfectly to keep the remoter states from indifference and forgetfulness to the claims of those over which the invader was already sweeping with resist- less strides, he left General Gist in Maryland, to act as the agent for the southern army in that state and Dela- ware. The Baron Steuben was left in military charge of Virginia. To these men, urging their duties upon them, his language is full of impressive earnestness. " Let your applications," he says, " be as pressing as our necessities are urgent," — " The greatest consequences depend upon your activity and zeal." To Steuben was gref.ne's pueparations. 107 assigned the establishment of* mao^azines and laborato- ries. The south, hitherto, had been almost wholly with- out them. The sites for these were chosen by Greene, whose eyes, as he approached the field of operations, were addressed to all that was important to his success This choice of location was one of no small difficulty. In Maryland, they would have been too remote from the scene of action ; in North Carolina, much too near. Virginia was the state in which it was necessary tc establish them. The point of Fort, at the confluence of Revanna and Fluvanna, was decided upon for the principal laboratory; while the chief depot of stores and arms was allotted to Prince Edward courthouse. To keep these regularly supplied with powder from the manufac- tories, and lead from the mines of Fincastle, was one of the special duties confided to Steuben. Greene vested him, besides, with the military command in Virginia, and with the farther task of organizing, disciplining, and expediting, the march of the recniits, from time to time, intended for the southern army. Jefferson was, at this time, the governor of Virginia. He was appealed to, and freely promised, to use all his energies in promoting the preparations of the state in regard to the common danger. Virginia had, at this period, but few regular troops in the field. A considerable body of her militia, with all the draughts and recruits collected to reinforce the southern army, were employed, at this very juncture, un- der the command of Generals Muhlenberg and Weedon, in watching the movements of General Leslie, which threatened her own safety. Her want of means and credit was quite as great as that of Congress ; and her movements were embai-rassed at once by the presence of danger, and the absence of adequate resources for defence. The southern army had but little to hope from this quarter. The resources of North Carolina,, 108 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. never ample, were perhaps still less available, at this moment, than those of Virginia. Men there were, per- haps, in sufficient numbers ; but they lacked concentra- tion, habits of drill and discipline, equipments of all kinds, munitions of war, and military stores. There was no money in the state, and the granaries of the country were empty. The fall of Charleston, and the defeat of Gates at Camden, had led to an unwise enrol- ment of vast bodies of militia, by which the country had been ravaged, and in the support of which, such vast quantities of paper money had been issued, as totally to destroy its own currency. But, with an eye to all things, and every thought addressed to the emergency, devising ways and means, and undespairing in the worst discouragements, Greene continued his way through these states, toward the field of more active operations. With all his delays, his progress was a rapid one, and soon brought him to the encampment of the army at Charlotte, North Carolina, which he reached on the 2d of December. Here, with a noble delicacy, which keenly appreciated the exquisite suffering of a proud and ambitious mind, sinking beneath unexpected, though perhaps not undeserved disaster, he relieved Gates of the command. He confirmed, for the day, the standing orders of his predecessoi^ whose be- havior was marked by a dignified resignation, and a carriage which was, at once, equally removed from the baseness of despondency, and the insolence of a spirit ready to brave public opinion, as it had, unhappily, essayed to brave its fortune. It was also among the delicate duties of Greene, while relieving Gates from the command, to institute a court of inquiry into the conduct by which the battle of Camden had been lost. It was grateful to Greene that he could escape from the prose- cution of this painful investigation. The service waa GREENE'S BEHAVIOR TO GATES. 109 not in a condition to allow, nor the army to make it, The order of Washington, requiiing that the "officers of the court should consist of such general and field officers, of the continental troops, as were not present at the battle of Camden ; or, being present, are not wanted as witnesses ; or are persons to whom General Gates has no objection," involved conditions which could not be complied with. There were not, in fact, three gen- eral officers left in the army wlio could sit upon the court, unless withdrawn from other places where their presence was indispensable. Under these circumstances, Greene gladly made such representations to Congress as obtained a revision of their orders, by which he was wholly relieved from a duty from which all his sensibili- ties shrunk. He regarded Gates's case with tenderness ; too indulgently, perhaps — but as one of misfortune, rather than misconduct ; and his behavior to the unfor- tunate man — for ever fallen, by this his own catastrophe, from the very heights of power — while it was " edifying to the army," touched the soul of the sufferer himself, and converted him, from a former enemy, into an attached and grateful friend. 110 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. CHAPTER VIII. GIirni)ses of the past Progress of the War in the South. — Condition of tha Country and of the Army when Greene takes Command. — His Difficul- ties — Resources — Policy. — Moves from Charlotte to Pee Dee. — Mari- on's Movements. — Cornwallis. — Morgan. — Tarleton pursues Morgan. — Is defeated at the Cowpeus. It was on the fourth of December, 17S0, that Greene entered upon the duties of liis new and arduous com- mand. It was one of singular difficulty and respon- sibility, and the means provided for his use and disposal were strangely inadequate to the nece-3sities before him. The condition of South Carolina was one of great desti- tution, and of a prostration apparently complete. Her resources seemed to be entirely exhausted, and her strong places were wholly within the grasp of the invader. A backward glance at her fortunes, during the war, up to the moment when Greene was appointed to the com- mand of the southern army, would seem, in some de- gree, to be necessary to a proper comprehension of the duties which were required at his hands, and of the dif- ficulties which lay in the way of their successful execution. South Carolina was one of those states which are at once opulent and feeble. She enjoyed a large commerce, but it was almost entirely in the hands of Europeans who were secretly hostile to her aims at independence. Those aims were boldly urged by her native population, con- si-sting of the high spirited gentry of the lower country. Her causes of quarrel with the mother-country were of a very different nature with those that operated upoii CAUSES OF THE KEVOLUTION IN CAROLINA. Ill the people of New England. They did not arise from feelings of jealousy between the parties in consequence of threatened rivalry of interests. In the south the peo- ple engaged in no manufactures, and held no shipping. They were planters, who found a ready market in Old England for all their produce. But they felt keenly the de- nial to themselves of those privileges of self-government which the possession of many superior intellects, and of a highly-educated state of society among the natives, nat- urally told them should be their own. They resented the usurpation, not only as a denial of right, but as an indignity, which continually imposed upon them, in pla- ces of authority, the foreigner in whom they did not find a superior, and who felt no sympathy with the soil. This prompted them readily to seize upon the common pre- texts of the sister-colonies, and to sympathize v/ith the movement in New England, not because of any affinities between the separate people, but as it afforded an occa- sion for the assertion of their rights. But their motives were not of sufficient influence with the great body of the people of Carolina, to make the cause a common one throughoat th« state. The people were not sufficiently homogeneous for the attainment of this important object. Large portions of the interior country had been only newly settled, and from European nations. The Ger- mans, having large settlements to themselves, scarcely speaking the lan«guage of the natives, were not easily persuaded to forego for the sway of a people whom they did not know, the paternal government of a prince, him- self of German family. The Scotch, forming colonies throughout the interior, preserved all their clannish pro- pensities, and their loyalty has always been the distiji- guisliing feature of the national character. The quakei and Moldavian settlements, which were als>o numerous, ^veie opposed to war, on any pretpiices ; and thus it was i 12 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. that in th«3 very heart of the country there dwelt a powr erful community ready, at any opportunity, to thwart, hy indifiference or active hostihty, the efforts of the native population, at the great object of national deliverance. Not a few of the natives, also, were unprepared to strike for independence; either doubtful of a policy which would, perhaps, elevate the power of the northern colo- nies (of which they were jealous) at their expense, or, doubtful if the country was yet ripe for the great experi- ment of making its further progress alone. For a time, however, these conflicting and opposing interests were kept in abeyance, silenced if not subdued, by the bold and energetic measures which the patriotic party pur- Eued, and the good fortune which attended their initial efforts in arms. Successful, in singular degree, in beat- ing off a British fleet and army at the opening of the war, and scourging into quiet and obedience the insur- gents who first made a demonstration in the interior, in correspondence with the movements of the enemy upon the seaboard, it was ei-roneously supposed that there would be little difficulty a second time from this doubt- ful quarter. The numbers of the faithful were greatly overrated, in the spirit and vigor which they had shown ; the numbers of the disaffected as greatly underrated, in the silence which they kept, and the stealthy policy which held their true feelings secret. A second attempt at the invasio-n of South Carolina, after the partial fall of Charleston, led the patriots to suspect, in some degree, their own weakness ; but as this invasion was again baf- fled and defeated 't was reserved for a subsequent day of danger, to reveal the full extent of the evil from the sources indicated. The fall of Georgia afforded the British general a point d^aj>j)ui whence he could more easily operate upon the sister-colony. Florida, always in his posses- SIEGE OF CHARLESTON. 113 sion, was another mean of annoyance to South Carolina. Here harbored all the fugitives who had been driven forth in consequence of their uncompromising hostility to the popular movement. A fruitless but expensive at- tempt to invade Florida — an attempt not more profitable in its results, to recover Georgia — contributed greatly to diminish the resources of Carolina in the personnel and materiel of war. The bloody conflict in the attempt- ed storm of Savannah, had fallen heavily on the Carolina troops, had diminished her regiments, had burdened her with an excessive debt, and had destroyed the value of her currency. The regular regiment of Georgia had been destroyed, or was in captivity, and her own militia had suffered severely, and been scattered or taken, in the latter state ; surprised in the charge of incompetent officers, under the more skilful operations of the invader. Thus circumstanced, she was but feebly prepared to re- sist the third and successful attempt of the British gen- eral-in-chief to obtain firm foothold in her soil. Charleston, besieged by a vastly superior force of the enemy, under Sir Henry Clinton him.self, succumbed, after a siege of nearly two months. The defence had been as well conducted and maintained as was possible by an inadequate body of troops, threatened at once by pesti- lence and famine, and worn out by unremitting duties in the field. By this surrender, five thousand soldiers of the southern army were lost, temporarily, to the pressing wants of the country. Nor was this the only loss. It involved others quite as heavy and important. While the leaguer of the city had been continued, detached bod ics of the southern militia had still kept the field. This measure had for its object the maintenance of free com- munication between the seaboard and the interior. It was unfortunate that this division of the strength of the state left neither that portion assigned to the garrison, nor 114 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. that which kept the field, in sufficient strength for safety. With the fall oi the city, and even before that event, tho British began to cut off, in detail, the scattered bodies of militia — effecting a series of surprises, which, where the disparity of military discipline and experience was so great as between these parties, was not, perhsrps, of difficult achievement. The massacre usually followed the surprise; and, with their capital city overthrown, their regular army made captive, their allies dispersed, their own militia cut up in scattered squadrons, without being permitted to unite — with the loyalists rising eve- rywhei-e around them, encouraged by the presence of a powerful ally, and eager now, and active in due degree with the apathy and caution which they had hitherto been compelled to show — it was, perhaps, not surprising that the whigs of Carolina yielded for a time to fortune, and lay, -perdu, in waiting for a better moment. But they did not wait long, or without a hope. The ap- proach of the continental army under Gates, however feeble, once more provoked their activity and stimulated their enterprise. Already, however, had their own par- tisan leaders — since grown famous — taken the field. Sumter, Marion, Pickens, and others, had already com- menced that brilliant career which showed the soldiers of the south to be particularly fitted for guerilla warfare ; and these, with the arrival of Gates, were prepared to co-operate with him, by demonstrations happily directed to divert the attention of the enemy, and to distract his purposes. The very hour of Gates's defeat was distin- guished by a brilliant affair of Sumter, in which, but for the absence of that caution which is taught alone by a veteran experience in war, his success would have been complete, and would have made partial amends for the catastrophe at Camden. Even after that catastrophe had taken place, it v/as for Marion to dart out suddenly WAR IN CAROLINA. 115 from his swamps, in the very moment of the British tn. umph, and to rescue from their clutches a large body of their prisoners. These were proofs that the spirit and enterprise of Carolina wei'e unsubdued by her misfor- tunes, whatever might be her deficiencies of physical strength. But her contest lay not entirely with the inva- der. Had this been the case, she had probably been quite equal to her own defence, without needing succor from her sisters. Unhappily, the causes already men- tioned, raised an army within her own limits, which was hostile to her independence. Rising in their several dis- tricts, the loyalists took ample vengeance for their pre- vious quiet and forbearance. A civil war raged in the country, of so desperate a nature, as to lead Greene, when describing it, to say that the people pursued each other like wild beasts rather than like men. Such is usually the character of civil war. The whole state was thus rendered the arena for unrelenting conflict; and, preying upon each other with a sleepless ferocity, there were but few hands to oppose to those of the national invader. The British looked on grimly, glad of a strug- gle which relieved them from many of the toils of war; and were content to leave to their auxiliaries, the loyal- ists, the work of massacre, while they quietly possessed themselves of its fruits. It was not the least of the mer- its of the Carolina partisan generals, that they could de- tach from petty broils, and neighborhood conflict, any body of citizens, and rally them, with single aim, for the great busines of national deliverance. That they should siiil keep alive the spirit of patriotism, in the midst of civil war, with a powerful enemy standing by to sustain the domestic factions by which the movement was op- posed, was in itself conclusive that the state might be rescued from foreign clutches, with only a respectable forco of regulars, upon which to fall back and rally, and 116 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. to which to look for support and succor against any over- whelming efforts of the foe. To have continued the con- flict, by the native militia alone, so long under the walled places of the British, and with their troops everywhere in the field, was to afford the most encouraging hopes that, in the end, the latter must be driven from their con- quests. For such a warfare, perhaps, no general was better endowed by nature, or prepared by training, than Greene. Patient, vigilant, collected — never so eager for success, as to overlook the necessary means for ob- taininof it — never so santjuine of victory as to forofet the caprices of fortune, and the uncertain moods which usu- ally ma.rk an untrained soldier — circumspect and cau- tious, in the last degree — he was, perhaps, the best cap- tain in the world to restrain and regulate the raw troops whom he had to manage — to curb their impetuosity, methodize their valor, and make them habitually provide against surprise. Greene did not close his eyes against the difficulties which now rose up in his path at every moment. He found himself, on taking command of the army, sustained by few encouragements. The army itself was a skel eton — the mere wreck of an army — few in numbers, without clothing, arms, or ammunition. It counted but nine hundred and seventy continentals, and one thousand and thirteen militia. This was the force whicli he found awaiting him at Charlotte. There was a smaller force, but better provided, serving as an independent command under Morgan, which had been detached by Gates, and was now actually operating in South Caro- lina, and in the neighborhood of the British garrison at Camden. This force consisted of four c(»rapanics, wliich had been drafted from the regiments to serve as light infantry; a body of seventy cavalry, under Colonel Washington ; and a small corps of sixty rifles, undo? RELATIVE STRENGTH OF THE ARMIES. 117 Major Rose. We shall have occasion to speak of this command hereafter. With his army weak and ill pro- vided, Greene found himself among friends who were too much abashed by ill fortune and inferior means, to be confident themselves in hope, or to encourage him to boldness. His enemies, on the other hand, warmed with continued victories, were flushed with exultation, and swarming, in the confidence of numbers, on every side. When he looked toward South Carolina, the reg-'on which he was to penetrate, he found it everywhere over- awed by British garrisons. Its strong points were every- where seized upon and fortiBed. Lord Cornwallis had planted himself, with the main body of his army, at Winnsborough. This post enabled him to complete his chain of fortified places, "from Georgetown to Augusta, in a circle, the centre of which would have been about Beaufort, in South Carolina, equidistant from Charles- ton and Savannah. These posts consisted of George- tvHvn, Camden, Winnsborough, Ninety-Six, and Augusta. Within this circle was an interior chain, at the distance of about half the radius, consisting of Fort Watson on the road to Camden, Motte's house and Granby on the Congaree. Dorchester and Orangeburg, on the road both to Ninety-Six and Granby, were fortified as posts of rest and deposite on the line of communication ; as was Monk's Corner, or Biggin church, and some other small posts on that to Camden." These posts were all judi- ciously chosen, at once for procuring supplies, maintain- ing communications, and overawing the country. The British army was divided among these several places, on the assumption by Gre«ne of the charge of the debris of the southern army. They consisted of something more than five thousand men, and employed themselves, at all these posts, in recruiting from the tory settlements — a business ir which they were uncommonly Fuccessful. 118 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. Their strength underwcDt a large increase on the arrival of Greene, being reinforced hy a force of nearly three thousand men, under General Leslie, who was, in conse- (|uenc-?, diverted from Virginia to Charleston ; thus pre- senting an overwhelming preponderance of force against the American general, which it was difficult to meet. But Greene's mind — calm, equable, well-trained, and executive — quickly rose to the exigency before it. To ascertain the wants of his men, and to cast about for the Bources of supply, were joint operations of the same thought. Clothing, in particular, was the great necessity. The nakedness of the soldiers was the first impressive fact that met his eyes. Many of them could not be seen on parade, and were actually ordered back to their homes on tliis account. Of those who did appear, the ludicrous exhibition of shreds and patches, odds and ends, of uniforms and old clothes, made a variety, ta which no display of a mock military could, possibly, do justice. The munitions of war were equally wanting, and the magazines were as bare as the soldiers. Nor were there means in the military chest to procure sup- plies, even if they had been within reach of purchase ; and it was with great difficulty, and only by the most excellent management, that provisions, from day to day, were procured for the support of the army. The quar- termaster's department was in quite as bad condition. Greene's experience in this department enabled him, readily, to appreciate his deficiencies, though it affijrded him some advantages, perhaps, in suggesting the means for meeting them. But here, again, the same painful conflict was to be CdiTied on for months, and possibly for years, to encounter necessities without resources, and furnish material without the means ; to live by shifts and expedients, striving day by day, with an eternal auxisty, doubtful what the day will biing forth, and igno- OFFICERS OF THE SOUTHERN ARMY. 110 rant of the sources wliicli shall provide for the exigencies of the morrow. Without a market, or money with which to enter it — without the present means for trans- porting supplies — and with an army constantly craving, and as constantly required to serve in spite of craving, the 2:enius of the best o;-eneral in the world misfht have succumbed beneath his anxieties, unless supported by a generous faith, that hopes everything in a right cause, and from a steady compliance with the requisitions . of country and duty. It was fortunate for Greene that he was consoled and strengthened against these tiials and anxieties, by the support and society of some of the most select and noble spirits in the army. His officers were the picked men of the country — brave, enterprising, full of expe- dients, resolute, generous, and ardent in their sympathies. Morgan, famous as a partisan, distinguished at Quebec and Saratoga; Otho Williams, who had been chiefly instrumental in saving the wreck of Gates's army; Lee and Washington, renowned for the spirit and enterprise which marked their respective characters and commands; Kosciusko, a chief of European fame, and one of the best engineers in the service. These, in their several departments, were scarcely to be equalled ; and, with Carrington in the quartermaster's, and Davies in the commissariat department, it may be reasonably sup- posed that everything which might be done by mortal ability, under like circumstances, must be within the province of his performance. When, to these aids and allies, we add the names of such partisan officers, among the militia, as have never been surpassed — Marion, Sumter, Pickens, Henderson, and others — we may natu- rally look for achievements, of as much enterprise and Jaring as belong to the fortunes of any fighting anny sraong any people. 120 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. Th'fc region of country in which he was to act, required the very best, and the most various, military capacity. Uwlike tlie north, it was a region in which the vicissitudes were equally sudden and extreme. In the north, the fields of controversy were few ; the chief points of progress obvious; the means of communication ready ; the game always tolerably apparent to the least skilful strategist. There, the population was dense, and intel- ligence was transmitted with great rapidity. For the same reason, the means of sustenance were more readily furnished, and particularly where the military chest was more amply supplied with the means of jDayment, than was the case when the war was transferred to the south. In most respects, the theatre of action in the latter region was totally unlike that of the north. Here, the popula- tion was sparsely settled ; the country, in large tracts, desolate and unproductive ; the roads few ; the forests unbroken ; the swamps impassable ; the rivers liable to frequent overflow; foraging remote and difficult ; intel- ligence slow to arrive; the people nearly equally divided in opinion — implacable and fierce in their resentments — always restless, and always suspicious accordingly; and the circumstances, taken together, of such a sort, as to leave an army at no moment perfectly secure from a capital disaster. It was the peculiar faculty of Greene, to study care- fully the scene of action, and to adopt his policy to its conditions. His explorations of the country were singu- larly searching and thorough. Under his requisitions, the Dan was surveyed by Carrington, the Yadkin by General Stevens, and the Catawba by Kosciusko ; and these surveys, which he thus commanded, are supposed to be the first which ever revealed, to any extent, the cliaracteristics of the several rivers. They proved, in the sequel, of immense importance to the progress of hia DISCIPLINE OF THE ARMY. 121 arms. Magazines were established at the head of the Catawba, by which he brought the means of sub- sistence more immediately within the Hue which ho iidd fixed upon as the base of his operations. He renewed his entreaties to the authorities of the several states within his province, urging the necessity of imme- diate supplies, and the most energetic exertions, for the future. He counselled, in the embodiment of the militia, that resort should be had to the draught, in preference to any other fonn of proceeding ; and, in his letters on this subject and others, employs a tone, and throws out sug- gestions, which have for their object something beyond the matters which they immediately discuss. In plain terms, he seeks to prepare the several governments, which he addresses, for that more decisive exercise of authority which he, himself, was resolved to adopt in the conduct of the war. It belonged to the same policy that he should seasonably begin to enforce that discipline among his troops, which, though essential to their efficiency"! had yet been, hitherto, disregarded. It had been the custom of the troops to come and go, almost at pleasure ; to retire to their homes without leave, and to stay with- out limit. For this offence he assigned the penalty of death, and rigidly enforced it. The first offender, after the practice had been forbidden, was made a summary example, being shot at the head of the army, which was drawn out to witness the painful spectacle. It was a terrible lesson, but one rendered necessary by a due regard to discipline. From his camp at Charlotte, Greene prepared to draw Higher to the scene of moie active operations. The duty of selecting a camp of watch and repose; where, without Slumbering, the army could yet be tolerably secure ; and where, without engaging in conflict, they could yet be kept constantly reminded of the necessity of preparing 122 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. for it; — was confided to Kosciusko. The spot was cho- sen at the junction of Hick's creek with the Great Pee Dee, and here the army arrived on the 26th of Decern l)er. On the same day that the aiTny was put under marching orders for this point, the detachment under Morgan was ordered to cross the Catawba, and approach the position of Lord Cornwalhs at Winnsborough. Speaking of his new* camp, the object of his movement, and the ad vantages derived from it, we gather the following sum mary from Greene himself: " I am here in my camp of repose, improving the discipline and spirits of my men and the opportunity for looking about me. I am well satisfied v/ith this movement, for it has answered thus far all the purposes for which I intended it. It make^ the most of my inferior force, for it compels my adversary to divide his, and holds him in doubt as to his own line of conduct. He can not leave Morgan behind him to come at me, or his posts of Ninety-Six and Augusta would be exposed. And he can not chase Morgan far, or prose- cute his views upon Virginia while I am here v/ith the whole country open before me. I am as near to Charles- ton as he is, and as near to Hillsborough as I was at Char- lotte ; so that I am in no danger of being cut off from my reinforcements, while an uncertainty as to my future de- signs has made it necessary to leave a large detachment of the enemy's late reinforcements in Charleston, and move the rest up on this side the Wateree. But, although there is nothing to obstruct my march to Charleston, T am far from having such a design in contemplation, in the present relative positions and strength of the two ar- mies. It would be putting it in the power of my enemy to compel me to fight him. At present my operations must be in the country where the rivers are fordable, and to guard against the chance of not being able to choose my ground. . . . Below the falls [of Pee Dee], all through CONDITION OF THE COUNTRY. 123 this country, from the Allegany to tlie seacoast, and from the Chesapeake to Georgia, the country is champaign, and presenting no passes that can be held by an inferior force. The rivers are deep, and their banks covered w^th impassable swamps, across which, at long intervals, roads have been constructed, which afford the only avenues of retreat. I can not venture to get entangled among the difficulties they present, until I can turn upon my enemy and fight him when I please." Thus, of the objects and advantages of his position. Hear him now, in the same breath, on the subject of his condition and resources : " I find the difficulties of sub- sisting an army far beyond all anticipation. Even here, where the inhabitants are generally well disposed, they will not gather in their crops from the field, because depositing their grain in their barns exposes it to be seized by their friends or burnt by their enemies. It is hard to stand so much in need of friends, and be com- pelled to subsist ourselves by means so well calculated to convert friends into enemies. But we have not a shil- ling of money, and must collect subsistence by force, or disband. I have had an opportunity of learning the force of the loyalists in these states, and the parts of the coun- try in which they reside, and their numbers and zeal pre- sent a formidable obstacle to our future measures. On the other hand, the whig population has been greatly re- duced by the numbers that have fled from the distress that friends and foes have heaped on them. The eneraj are now recruiting in all parts of this state, and the com- mand of gold, aided by the public distress and loyal feel- ing, has been too successful in promoting the project of making one conquest the stepping-stone to another. At present they are in possession of all the fertile and popu- lous parts of South Carolina, and until circumstances will admit of my penetrating into the heart of the coua- 124 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. try, to meet and fight him, wo shall have to operate in a country that has been exhausted and depopulated by the swarms of mounted militia that have been impoverishing rather than defending it. Yet I should feel no appre- hensions for the event, had I a prospect of being sup- portei by a permanent force. But North Carolina Las not a man on foot, and Virginia only a few raw and na- ked troops, and those enlisted for a short time. The fine troops of Maryland and Delaware, enlisted for the war, are now reduced, comparatively, to a handful, and Gen- eral Gist gives me no hope of an early reinforcement f>-om that quarter. North Carolina seems disposed to assist us, but her councils are so distracted that I can not hope much from her efforts. The whigs will not serve unless the tories are compelled, and the tories are too strong to be driven, or, if forced to take the field, will run away, desert, or betray us. Virginia, without money and without credit, I fear can do little more ; and in both states, militia substitutes are too much in demand to leave materials for enlisting an army, except for very limited periods." These extracts will afford a suflScient idea of the kind and extent of the embarrassments which beset the com- mander of the southern army at his camp of repose. Here, however, he was now joined by the long-expected legion of Colonel Lee, from Virginia, a fine body, equally made up of horse and foot, admirably equipped, of three hundred men. At the same time, and from the same quarter, came Colonel Greene, with a body of four hun- dred recruits. A thousand more recruits had been raised in Virgmia, but they could not be sent into the field, from very nakedness. Those who were sent, though march- ing in the depth of winter, were clad only in summer garments of the meanest description, and chiefly made of linen. MORGAN'S OPERATIONS. 12 The arrival of Lee at the camp on the Pee Dee, erja« bk^d Greene to attempt an expedition which he had con- . templated before. This was an enterprise against Georgetown, one of a series in which the enemy shouhl be struck at in detail, in which Lee should operate in conjunction with Marion. The famous partisan had been busy all the while, in his particular way and province. Morgan and INIarion were in motion about the same time. The former, not strong enough to attempt the post at Winnsborough, contented himself with keeping Lord Cornwallis anxious about its safety, while achieving some sniall surprises against the tories in the neighborhood of Ninety-Six. Marion, having Lee with him, succeeded measurably in the attempt on Georgetown. The place was surprised, but, from a failure of proper concert be- tween the assailing parties, and the want of artillery, it was not in their power to retain it, or to gather the best results from the advantages which had been won. The attempt upon this post, to be followed up by oth- ers, had for its object to divert the attention of the enemy from Morgan to the danger of his garrisons in the low country. The surprise of Georgetown was not, accord- ingly, a simple coup de main, but a first step in the pros- ecution of a great plan which should fetter the enterprise of the British general, distract his regards, and prevent him from that contemplated march upon Virginia, from Carolina, which now constituted the leading policy with Cornwallis. To detain him in North Carolina, until an army of sufficient strength and discipline could be raised to encounter him, was the design and desire of Gi-eene. The measures pursued for this purpose, soon began to disturb the /epose of Cornwallis, and to compel his at- ;.ention to the course of Morgan. The latter, meanwhile, had taken post on the banks of the Pacolet, where he was joined by a considerable body 126 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GRELNE. of the militia of the Carolinas. He had scarcely made his appearance in the neighborhood before he had an op- portunity of striking at a strong body of loyalists who had advanced from the Savannah to the Fair Forest. He sent Colonel Washington, with his cavalry, and a couple of hundred mounted militia under Colonel M'Call, who, by rajiid riding, came upon them in the neighborhood of Ninety-Six, and struck at them with such emphasis as to kill two thirds of their numbei. The sui-prise was com- plete, and the punishment sufficiently sanguinary. Avail- ing himself of the fact that his appearance was totally unexpected in a neighborhood which swarmed with en- emies, and was covered by a strong J3ritish post, he suc- ceeded in the attempt to surprise the stockade fort of General Cunningham, and to scatter the garrison. These enterprises, almost at his threshold, disquieted Cornwal- lis, whose light troops and cavalry, under Tarleton, were then linprofitably urging the pursuit of Sumter, after the battle-field of BlackstoclvS. Cornwallis felt the evil moiTil influences of such audacity on the part of the Americans, to say nothing of the direct injury to the service, in the slaughter of auxiliaries and the cutting off of his sup- plies. Tarleton, accordingly, received his orders to " push Morgan to the utmost." To enable him to do so, to effectual purpose, Cornwallis divided his forces with him, intending, while Tarleton either destroyed Morgan, or drove him out of the state, which he thought most likely, to move forward rapidly himself, and, throwing himself across the j)ath of the American general, cut him off from his place of retreat, and compel him to surren- der. Leslie, meanwhile, with another body of troops, was to march up the cast side of the Catawba, and inter- pose to prevent Greene from doing anything for the sup- port of his brigades. But, events are not within human calculation. They , TARLETON PURSUES MORGAN. 127 were clestmed to disapjDoint the plans of the English general. Tarleton obeyed the commands of his superior with due diligence ; and, with his usual celerity, set forth in pursuit of Morgan. He had with him, in this pursuit, about eleven hundred men, five hundred of whom con- stituted that formidable legion which had hitherto trav- ersed the country with almost unvarying success. His field-pieces were served by a detachment of the royal artillery. Morgan's force did not quite equal this in numbers, consisting, in all, of nine hundred and seventy men, of whom six hundred were militia. But these militia were now somewhat experienced, and they were under leaders, such as Pickens and M'Call, in whom they had the utmost confidence, and who knew exactly how to manage them. Still, the superiority in artillery and cavalry, v^as too gi'eatly with Tarleton to render it prudent to await his encounter ; and, very loath to do so, Morgan retired at his approach. The pursuit was commenced on the 12th of January, 1781. Morgan might have escaped his pursuer ; but he really had no desire to do so — was chock full of fight, and only desired to find for his mood a proper field and fitting opportunity. In this temper of mind, as may be supposed, it was not diflScult for Tarleton — with whom, hitherto, in the plen- itude of good fortune, it had been only to s«e to con- quer — ''to bring him to the scratch." The American brigadier awaited his enemy on the banks of the Thicketty. Believing that Morgan was only solicitous to escape, and resolved upon the honors of a coujp de main, Tarle- ton pushed forward precipitately on the 17th of January, and came upon the Americans — not in the huiry and confusion of a flight, but coolly posted, with the break- fast things just removed, and every man ready, refreshed by a heoTty morning meal, and not averse to a very 128 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. different encounter. The British were fatigued by a five hours' march, the troops of Morgan refreshed by a rest of quite the same duration, to say nothing of the breakfast. But Tarleton, flattered by frequent successes, and, in some deq-ree, the spoilea child of fortune, was not the man to wait. Morgan gave him advantages which, had he been another sort of enemy, his prudence woukl have scarcely yielded. His ground was upon an eminence, gently ascending for three or four hundred yards, and covered with an open wood. On the crown of this eminence he posted the Maryland regulars, nearly three hundred in number; in line, on their right, two companies of Vir- ginia militia, and a corps of Georgians: making, in nil, some four hundred and thirty men. This line, which was the rear, was commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Pfoward. A body of picked Carolina militia, nearly three hundred in number, commanded by Pickens, was posted, in open order, some one hundred and fifty yards in advance of the line of Howard ; and, in front of these, was another body of militiamen, one hundred and fifty more, scattered, as riflemen, loosely along the whole front. These had their particular duties assigned them, suf- ciently understood in the words that passed among themselves — " Mark the epaulettes !" and admirably did they mark them. It was by this process, only, that Mor- gan could equalize the superiority of the enemy, derived from his greater strength in cavalry, and the presence of his artillery, of which the Americans had none. The American reserve, one hundred and fifty in number, con- sisted of Washington's and M' Call's cavalry, and was posted behind an eminence in the rear of the second line. Tarleton's attempt to reconnoitre was foiled by the fatal discharges of the scattered riflemen. His cavalry advanced, accordingly, and drove them into the first line. BATTLE OF THE COWPENS. 129 but not until they had taught their enemy to tremble unaer the keen close aim and destructive iire of theii rifles. Steadily advancing under the fire of Kis artillery, Tarleton pressed forward. The militia under Pickens, commanded to deliver their fire at fifty yards, coolly awaitfcd the British approach, and obeyed their instruc- tions to the letter. " Here," according to the admission of an officer in the Maryland line, " the battle was gained." So terrible a fire as met the advancing enemy, has seldom been delivered on the field of battle. The officers, in particular, paid dearly for the epaulettes they wore ; while a liberal proportion of the troops by whom they were followed, bit the dust in company with their gallant leaders. The service done which was required at their hands — for it was not expected that they should stand the charge of the bayonet — the militia, yielded to the pressure of the enemy's battle, and left the way open to the second line. The shouts of the Biitish declared their confidence in the affair as in a battle already won, and hurried forward in a degree of disorder, which soon betrayed the evil consequence, to their ranks, of the loss which they had sustained in officers. The fire of the second line opened upon them, and staggered them while they were thus disordered, and, for nearly thirty minutes, it was maintained with constancy and serious effect. Still, the assailing column advanced, striving to dress and move steadily forward to the charge; but with so muc? hesitation, that the British commander was compelled to bring the 71st regiment into line upon his left, while his cavalry swept forward against the American right. Morgan perceived the necessity of guarding his flank. But his reserve, under Washington, was already busy iu covering the retreating militia, who, pursued by the enemy's horse, and having to traverse the whole front of the second line, upon which they were ordered to 6* 130 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. rally, were, "necessarily, greatly exposed to this danger. To repulse the assailants, and to cover the militia while they rallied, was the work of a few moments with Washington : but, these moments were big with the issue of the day. A retrograde movement of the con- tinental line, occasioned by a mistake in orders, had nearly lost the victory so nearly won. The British line, beholdino^ this retron^rade, confounded it with a flin^ht, and rushed forward with shouts of triumph, as to a victory. And such it might have been, but for the fact that, in pursuing the enemy's cavalry some distance beyond the British line, Washinn^ton had found their riMit flank entirely exposed to him, and had a fair view of the confusion prevailing in their ranks. It was at the lucky moment, when the retrograde movement of the American line was becominij too much accelerated for precision, that a messenger from Washington delivered these few words : " They are coming on like a mob ; give them a fire, and 1 will charge them." "Face about!" was the instant order along the line. *' Give them a single fire, and the victory is ours." Pickens, with his militia, appeared on the hill at this moment, to unite in effectual obedience to this command. It was obeyed from left to right. With terrible effect did the lightning stream forth from the levelled muzzles, at the moment when their enemies, rapidly rushing forward and tumul- tuously shouting, were within thirty paces only. The presented bayonet followed up the fire ; and, as the glittering blades of the opposing ranks were interlocked, the British dropped their weapons and fell upon their faces. The victory was won. The rifles of Pickens's militia, and the sabres of Washington's cavalry, finished the business of the day; and thus ended the famous battle of the Cowpens. The enemy lost one hundred and fifty in killed and MORGAN VICTORIOUS. 131 wounded, and four hundred prisoners. Of the Ameri- cans, but eleven were killed and sixty-one wounded. Morgan retired with two field-pieces, eight hundred muskets, two s.tands of colors, thirty-five baggage-wag- ons, tents, and ammunition, and one hundred dragoon horses — the trophies of his victory. l32 life of NA1IIA]>»AEL GREENE. CHAPTER IX. Morgan's Retreat before Cornwallis. — Greene joins him on the Catawba- — Condition of the American Army. — Militia collects under Davidson.— British pnss the Catawba. — Death of Davidson. — Morgan retreats- Passes the Yadkin. — Skinnish with the Rearguard. — Anecdote of Greene. The victory of Morgan was complete, but it was one upon which he did not venture to repose. Cornwalhs, he well knew, was in force, at a distance of but twenty- five miles, and this space would easily be overcome by the fugitive cavalry of the British conveying the tidings of their own disaster. ReasoninsT from what should be done in such case, he had every reason to suppose that Cornwallis would put his whole army in pursuit. He halted upon the battle-field, accordingly, only long enough to refresh his men and secure his prisoners ; and hurried across Broad river that very evening leaving Pickens, with a suflBcient detachment of his mounted mi- litia, to bury the dead and provide for the wounded. With the dawn of morning he was again upon the march, pressing, with all haste, to throw the rising waters of the Catawba between his pursuers and himself Fortune, and some unnecessary delays on the part of Cornwallis, facilitated his objects. Plad the latter set off* in immedi- ate pursuit, discarding all cumbrous baggage, all unne- cessary materiel, the victory of Morgan, burdened as he was, with his spoils and pursuers, might have availed him little. But one or more precious days were lost by the British commander; and, when he approached the Cataw- ba, he found Morgan already on the opposite side, at a dis- tance of twerty miles, with the river roused by freshets. CONDITION OF THE ARMY. 133 roaring and swelling, as an obstacle between tli(3m. Greene, meanwhile, apprized of the victory of his briga- dier, and apprehensive for his safety — pushed as he had reason to fearhe wouldbe,by the utmost exertions of Corn- wallis — set out, with all speed, to join him. His efforts were more successful than those of his enemy. His celerity of movement alone saved him from the dangers of a progress through a country, almost equally occu- pied with friends and foes, which he traversed for a space of nearly a hundred and fifty miles, and almost without an escort. He had put his army under march- ing orders, but felt too greatly the importance of being personally at the point of action, at the moment of great- est exigency, to await their movements. His hope was, not yet to cross weapons with Cornwallis, but simply to oppose and foil his generalship ; save Morgan, if possible, and so hang upon the skirts of the enemy, like a threat- ening thunder-cloud, as to paralyze his enterprises until the moment which should make him ready for the fight. To cross weapons with Cornwallis now, was quite beyond his strength. This was the conviction that qualified the delight which he felt at the recent victory. It was I'ne of which he could take no advantage ; and he stood, tan- talized with the opening, which, with an adequate army, would have been offered him by the field of Cowpens, and the purposeless and unprofitable pursuit of the British. His nominal force, including that of Morgan and the militia, did not exceed seventeen hundred men ; while the strength of Cornwallis, joined by Leslie, must have considerably exceeded that number. In equipments, dress, discipline, and munitions of war, the superiority of the latter was very much greater still. In money, Greene was still poorer than in men ; not a hard dollar being in the money-chest, even for the most important necessity of an army — secret intelligence. 134 LfFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. But, with little to encourage, he was still hopeful. "With the waters of the Catawba roaring between the two armies, and forbidding the farther pursuit of the British, he busied himself in recruiting the militia. With a considerable number of recruits, he might even venture, when the river subsided, to dis])ute the passage with the enemy, and to this labor he addressed himself with his habitual energy. " It is my only wish to be upon an equal footing with Lord Cornwallis, and if I do not give you a good account of him, I will agree to be subject to your censure." Such was his language to Washington. Again, he says : " I am not without hopes of ruining Lord Cornwallis, if he persists in his mad scheme of pushing through the coun- try." To effect this object, Greene required a well-ap- pointed army of five thousand infantry and eight hundred or a thousand horse, equipped for active operations. "Such a force, assisted by the auxiliary aid of the mili- tia, would prove superior to any force the enemy could maintain in the field in this quarter." The militia was forthcoming, but there ivas no maintenance for them. " There is," says he, " a great spirit of enterprise pre- vailino: amono: the militia of these southern states ;" but they fluctuated in their periods of service, going and coming at pleasure, as well they might do, when they not only got no pay, but were without clothing or pro- visions. "Early in January, several hundreds of the troops actually could not appear at drill, or perform guard duty, for want of clothing." — " More than half our numbers are, in a manner, naked ; so much so that we can not put them on the least kind of duty. Indeed, there is a great miinbcr that have not a rag of clothes on them, except a little piece of blanket, in the Indian form, around their waists^ That men, under such conditions, should be found in camp at all, is passing wonderful. GREENE S FORTITUDE AND SKILL. 136 Greene made the most of his resources, and bore up against his difficulties with exemplary fortitude and skill. To secure the prisoners taken by Morgan, was a first object, and, to do this witliout lessening the numerical strength of his army, was not less important. They had been properly sent forward in advance, by Morgan, as soon as he had effected the passage of the Catawba; but there was still a long journey to perform before a place could be reached wheie they would be secure from res- cue. It happened that the term of service of the Vir- ginia militia was nearly out. . Greene employed them during the remaining interval of duty, to take charge of the prisoners, and conduct them to Virginia. He was thus enabled to secure his prize without losing the ser- vice of a single man. Orders had previously been given for effecting a junction, at Salisbury, of his force with that of Morgan. He had prepared for this junction, col- lected and camped his provisions, where they lay away from the contemplated route ; called in his detachments ; given orders to convey stores and valuable property to the interior from the seaboard ; and, in order the more securely to provide for the chances of retreat, instructed his quartermaster-general to form a magazine on the Roanoke, and hold his boats in readiness for transporta- tion on the Dan. Despatches to the several governors of the southern states, to supply their several quotas — |' to Steuben, to hasten his recruits — and to the mount- ;. aineers along the frontier ranges of the Carolinas and j Virginia, to come forward and renew the glorious exam- j pies of courage and patriotism which they had shown at ) King's mountain — were among the thousand details which furnished employment, at this period of exigency, to his comprehensive and indefatigable mind. To resume. Greene's exertions to collect a sufficient oody of militia for the defence of the passage of the Ca 136 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. tawba, was not successful, and the stream now began to fill. It was evident that the moment would soon approach when the British army would begin to move ; and all that could be done was to retard his passage, and cripple him as much as possible, while the force of Morgan disappeared. For this object, General Davidson, with three hundred mounted riflemen, foraiing a corps of observation, were to watch and dispute the passage of the rive]', while a similar force, also militia riflemen, were scattered along the bank, so as to keep eye and aim upon all of the sev- eral fords by which the enemy might attempt to cross Greene remained with these, in order to bring them off as soon as the passage was eEfected ; while Morgan, at Beaty's ford, and six miles nearer the place of rendez- vous (which was designated, and on the road to Salisbury, some sixteen miles from the Catawba), was prepared to march at the first signal. He did so, hastily and in silence, on the evening of the 31st of January. The river was now falling quite as rapidly as it had risen ; no more militia were to be expected, and the British v/ere preparing to force the passage. After several feints, and false demonstrations, the better to deceive the Amer- ican riflemen as to the true course which he meant tc take in crossing the Catawba, Cornwallis, at length, a midnight, on the first of February, approached the fon called M'Cowan's with the main body of his army. This as a private passage, but little frequented, aff^orded the best prospect of eflecting a surprise of the Americans. While he attempted the ford in person, he despatched his favor- ite colonels, "Webster and Tarleton, with a strong de- tachment, to cross at Beaty's, the ford which Mor- gan had so recently abandoned. C)f course, there was no obstacle to the passage of this detachment, which reached the opposite banks in safety. Davidson, mean while, having command of the American riflemen, main THE BRITISH PASS THE CATAWBA. 13V tained his station along the banks which commanded the ford at M'Cowan's. He had not been deceived by the ruse of the British general, and maintained for him a vigilant watch, which, but for the choice of the time for crossing, and an accident which, seeming to threaten, had leally helped the enemy, would have enabled him to ex- act a heavy toll of blood for the passage. Cornwallis judiciously chose the night-time to effect his object. There was no proper employment of the rifle in the dark; and, in its shadows, the troops were but partially conscious of tlie appalling aspect of a stream five hun- dred yards in width, foaming tumultuous over its une- qual bed of rocks, overtuiTiing men and horses, sweep ing the strongest from their feet, and leaving them inca pable of defence from their assailants, secure and steady on the river. Their fate must have been inevitable had the passage been attempted in broad daylight. But Corn- wallis determined wisely. The heads of his columns entered the river about the dawn of day, but the day opened in storm and rain, and objects were scarcely visible except when near at hand. Davidson, knowing the ford, had posted his men to receive them where they should approach the eastern bank. Crouching among the trees and bushes that lined the river, they waited anxiously for the moment when they should each be able to select the object for his aim. But, in the darkness ana confusion of the scene, the strife and roar of raging wa- ters, and the dense mists of the falling rain, the guide of the British lost his way, became alarmed, and finally fled, leaving the column to make its forward progress as they could. This saved them. They wandered out of the track, and, though getting into much deeper water, yet succeeded in reaching the shore at a point where they haa not been expected, and where no preparations had been made for them Davidson was soon apprized of this mis- 138 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. fortune, and proceeded, with all haste, to repair it, by shift* ing his position, and bringing his rides to bear upon them in front. His movement was made with equal judgment and despatch, but, incautiously exposing himself, in the glare of his own fires, he sunk, mortally wounded, under a volley from the British platoons. His rifles, however, were not idle. Wherever they could bring an enemy within range, they covered him with a fatal finger. Lieutenant-Colonel Hall, leading the light-infantry of the British, was among their slain, and Corawallis himself had a narrow escape, his horse having been killed undei him. A sharp conflict, which preceded the fall of Da- vidson, was terminated in his death, and leaving the pas- sage free, which they could no longer successfully de- fend, the militia dispersed in search of safety. A small body of these, not more than a hundred in number, stopped at a tavern some ten miles from the scene of conflict, and, supposing themselves safe, prepared to take refreshment. They had nearly paid dearly for their in- discretion. The approach of Tarleton compelled them to take to their horses. Fortunately, their videttes gave the alarm in season, and, accustomed to deliver their fire on horseback, almost as well as on foot, the Americans gave him a Parthian reception, shooting as they fled, and dashed away into forests which he did not think it advi sable to penetrate. Seven men and twenty horses fell at this simjle fire : which the Biitish colonel aveni^ed in the wanton massacre of a few old men and boys upon whom he fell in this expedition, and who neither offered, nor meditated resistance. The militia of Davidson dispersed for a time, after the fall of their general. But seven miles from the tavern where Tarleton had his encounter with a part of them, ho little knew that Greene with his suite, but without any other escort, remained in ivaiting for t/iem. At a INCIDENT OF FEMALE PATRIOTISM. 139 single dash, and with but twenty men, he might have pounced upon this more important prey. Greene waited for Davidson and his militia in vain. He lingered till midnight, before he learned the fate of that brave officer and the dispersion of his troops. Then, with a heavy heart, he proceeded to Salisbury, where he amved, exhausted in body, and humbled and distressed in spir- its. Here it was, that one of those incidents occurred, of which the revolutionary history in the southern states "can boast so many, in which woman shows her- self not less the angel of patriotism than of charity and love. As Greene made his appearance at Steele's tavern, the disordered state of his garments, the stiff- ness of his limbs, the languor of his movements, the dejection of his mood and manner, became painfully apparent to every eye. Approaching him, as he alighted from his horse, his friend. Dr. Read, addressed him with inquiries of most anxious solicitude ; to which he replied, not able to repress his anguish, that ^he came alone, exhausted, penniless, and hungry. The reply did not escape the ears of the excellent landlady. His breakfast was soon prepared and smoking ; and he had scarcely finished it, when she presented herself, closed the door of the apartment, and, producing a small bag of specie in each hand, she forced them upon him. " Take them," said the noble creature; "you will need, and I can do without the money." Never did help come at a better season. An acquisition so important to the public ser- vice, was not to be rejected through scruples of mere delicacy ; and Greene rose from the breakfast-table, no longer penniless — no longer succumbing to the condition which had made him feel himself so utterly alone. The obligation was afterward repaid. A few words expressed the gratitude of the American general. He had not time for more. His friends warned him against the 140 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. numbers and the hostility of the loyalists of this rogioTi; rendered doubly eager and active in consequence of the approach of their enemies ; and he hurried with all eN:pedition to rejoin the army, then about to effect the passage of the Yadkin. It was now the aim of Lord Cornwallis to repair the consequences of previous delays, by pushing his adver- sary with all possible rapidity. Once upon the samo side of the river with the Americans, he proceeded to make a second sacrifice of all unnecessary baggage. Destroying his wagons, he was enabled to double the teams for his artillery, and to mount a considerable body of infmtry. These he joined to his cavalry, which he pushed forward under General O'Hara. His hope was nr)w to overtake Morgan, before he could pass the Yad- kin. But Morgan's command, relieved by the militia under Davidson, had been greatly refreshed by the halt made upon the Catawba; and, having the stait of his eager adversary, and urged forward by Greene, he pressed on with a celerity, which was rather increased than lessened, by a heavy rain-storm, which prevailed through the whole of a day and night. Greene knew that a sudden and great rise in the river would be the consequence of this rain, and was anxious to secure tho passage before the occurrence of an event which, if he could succeed in doing so, would insure his safety, and enable him to avoid that resort to a last stake, which it was the ])olicy of the British general to compel. The latter concentrated all his resources upon the pursuit, and his troops obeyed his wishes with an alacrity, that showed how well they knew the importance of the prize. But their labors were again taken in vain. Morgan reached the Yadkin without having felt his enemy at his heels ; and, here it was that the provident forethought of Greene enabled him to reap all the benefits of his rapid PASSAGE OF THE YADKIN. 141 march. Boats had been collected, by his orders, lon» in advance of the necessity which he yet foresaw ; and these, ranged along the river at the several cros&ino- places, afforded him a quick passage of the Yadkin, whether his purpose be attack or defence. The infantry and baggage of the Americans were transported to the opposite shore without difficulty, and the stream was not yet sufficiently swollen to keep the cavalry from fordin"". Yet, so rapid had been the pursuit of O'Hara, with his powerful detachment of cavalry and mounted infantry, that he succeeded in crossing weapons with the Ameri- can rear-guard, which was composed entirely of militia of the country, before it could throw the river between itself and the enemy. This guard had been delayed, in consequence of its being joined by considerable numbers •)f the whigs of Salisbury, who, with their families, were compelled to fly, as a penalty of their patriotism, at the approach of the British. The baggage of these fugi- tives proved an incumbrance ; but, though retarding their progress, it was not the proj^er policy of the Ameri- can general, looking to the future no less than the pres- ent, to discard it from his protection. The baggage of the army had been passed ; the army itself was in safety on the opposite side ; but, before the wagons of the fugi- tives could be got across, the enemy broke upon them. But the militia stood their ground manfully. It was mid- night, and they were favored by the darkness. A sharp skirmish ensued, in which both sides claimed the advan- tage. That it belonged to the Americans, is beyond a doubt, since they gained their object, saved most of the wagons, and effected their own passage in safety and without loss ; — a boast which it was not in the power of the British to assert. O Hara chafed vainly, upon one side of the river, at the security which his enemy enjoyed upon the other 132 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. A fruitless attempt to seize upon some of the Doats of the Americans, increased his distemper. He was com- pelled to draw bridle and wait for the approach of liis superior. It was not long before Cornwallis, with the whole British army, appeared on the banks of the Yadkin. The prospect before him was sufficiently mortifying. Thus far, his exertions had been taken in vain. Greene was in possession of all the boats, and the stream was now beyond its bounds, swollen by the rains, and no longer fordable. The artillery was brought up, and long shot were employed to effect a passage which was not within the power of the soldiery. A furious cannonade was opened upon the American en- campment on the opposite banks ; but it proved an idle waste of ammunition. The camp was sheltered behind a rising ground, while the rocks on the margin of the stream afforded crouching-places of sufficient security for the sentinels. The British general had all this can- nonading to himself. In Morgan's command there was no artillery. The two pieces which had been taken at the Cowpens, placed in wagons, had been hurried on, with the prisoners, to Virginia. He could, accordingly, return none of the distant civilities of the British. These do not seem to have occasioned much disquiet among the Americans. It is related of Greene, for example, that he had taken up his quarters in a little cabin, which was par- tially sheltered by a pile of rocks, a small distance from the river. Here, while his military family were amusing themselves in drawing straws, or doing what else they thought proper to beguile the time, the general was more busily employed in preparing his despatches. At length, however, as if the British had guessed his hiding- place, and were anxious to disturb his occupation, their cannon were pointed to the cabin, the roof of which, alone, was apparent to their aim. Very soon the bullets ANECDOTE OF GREENE. 143 were seen to strike the rocks in the rear, and to skip about the neighborhood. Soon they travelled nearer and nearer, until the clapboards of iIjg roof began to fiy in all directions. What emotions these unruly visiters provoked in the minds of those who were at their inno- cent games of Push-pin and Jack Straw — the aids of the general — have not been reported ; but Greene, him- self, is described as showing no sort of concern. He still wrote, heeding nothing but his despatches, and only turning from them to answer the numerous applications that were constantly addressed to him. His pen never rested but at the appearance of some new applicant, who received his answer, distinguished by equal calm- ness and precision ; the pen of the general being again set in motion the moment of his departure. 144 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENK. CHAPTER X., tk^ithmcd Pursuit of the Americans by Comwallis. — Greene mcditales ft Stand at Guilford. — Condition of his Anny. — Continues the Retreat tlirough North Carohna — Deludes Comwallis, who pursues a Detach- ment under Williams, while the main Anny of the Americans crosses the Itiver Dan in Security. The British general, for a time, was nonplused. With a superior army, in better training and condition, within striking distance of his enemy, he was yet compelled to look on, without being able to strike a blow. It was not merely the interests of his sovereign that suffered by this involuntary inactivity. His own reputation was seriously endangered by the position of his affairs. How had his enemy eluded him? How, encumbered with prisoners and baggage, with a vastly inferior force, had he con- trived to escape the pursuit, which he had every reason to apprehend would ce hotly urged, and which, thus urged, would, in all probability, have ruined him ? True, that, on two occasions, tlio unexpected rising of the wa- ters had interposed for his safety. But might not Com- wallis have overtaken him before he reached the Cataw- ba ? and did not his mounted men and cavalry, a force in itself almost equal to that commanded by Morgan, actu ally engage the rear-guard of the latter, on the banks of the very stream which now opposed itself to his forward pi ogress? History points to the want of forethought, on the part of Comwallis, which, unlike the case with Greene, had failed to provide against the rising of the waters; and to the waste of more than forty-eight houra CORNWALLIS'S FORTUNES. 145 m the destruction of his baggage, which a small detach- ment might have been left to break up and consign to the flames. It is recorded of Greene, that, when he heard of the pause of the British army to destroy its baggage — an act which indicated the determination to traverse the whole country, if need be, in pursuit — ^he rose exultingly, with the prophetic exclamation, " Then he is ours !" The prediction was verified; not literally, perhaps, for Greene was not permitted to be " in at the death" of the game — but verified in the capture of York- town, as a strict result of this insane expedition. Standing on the banks of the Yadkin, and surveying the tents of his enemy, secure beyond, there is no doubt that Comwallis began to entertain some misgivings of his policy and fortune. Perhaps his misgivings with re- gard to his policy were only due to the unpromising aspect of his fortunes. His efforts, whether urged with sufiicient energy and audacity or not, had been fruitless ; and it was now due to his safety that he should strike a blow, sufficiently heavy and successful, to do away with the impression of the brilliant victory at Cowpens. But his mind evidently vacillated between its objects ; the worst event, perhaps, in the career of a military man. He con- sumed four precious days in deliberation, which should have been employed in action ; and then resolved un- wisely. There were still two ways of striking at his enemy. As yet, the junction had not been effected be- tween the two divisions of Greene's army. That under Morgan has employed our attention, and is now before us ; but the main body of the army, under General Hu- ge r, was in full progress for Guilford. To dart between these two bodies, and strike them in detail, was the de- sire and final resolution of the British commander. This resolution, of itself, was not amiss, had it not been too tardy of adoption ; but it was not till two days after his 7 3146 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. arrival at the banks of the Yadkin, that he detached par ties to reconnoitre the country, and to seek other cros- sing-places, nor until the eighth of February, that he at length passed the river. Yet the river had been falling on the fourth, w^as fordable the next day, and Greene's army w^as in motion, after the halt of a day, the moment he discovered the subsiding of the stream. The hesita- tion of the British general, betraying doubt and incerti- tude, may have arisen out of his difficulty to decide upon the division which was most proper to assail. It may have been the fruit, also, of some vague general appre- hension as to the dangers and exigencies of a long pur- suit, through a waste country, filled with bitter foes and doubtful friends, when the important object to be gained, the junction of his force with that of Philips in Virginia, might be baffled ; in which event, not only must South Carolina be lost, but he, himself, be destroyed or cap- tured. Whatever may have been his doubts or appre -^ hensions, they certainly produced such a pause in his action, as set at peril all that he had hoped from his pre- vious enterprise. Crossing the Yadkin on the 8th, and resuming the pursuit of Greene, in the hope of cutting him off from the upper fords of the Dan, he gave him opportunities and a start which it was not easy to re- cover. Not that Greene's object was simply to elude and escape his formidable adversary. His purpose was a more profound one. We find him, for example, halting Morgan at the Catawba, and resting his jaded troops ; availing himself of all the respite afforded by the rising of the river, yet without preparing, in this delay to offer battle when the enemy should cross. Starting off, when the passage is about to be effected, we find him keeping just far enough ahead to beguile the British in pursuit. Crossing the Yadkin as he had done the Catawba, he again halts, and coolly surveys his pursuer. Thus he GREENE'S POLICY. ^i^ rests quietly, until again warned by the falling of the \yaters ; and pushing forward for the Dan, again to prac- tise the same game ; beguile his enemy yet deeper into the heart of the country, where, in the event of a battle, his resources must be cut off, and where a defeat, or dis- aster of any kind, would leave him hopeless of help, and at the mercy of the Americans. Cornwallis might well have hesitated to follow this lure. But he probably did not suspect Greene of a scheme so profound. It was one cause of the failure of the British, that they never learned the lesson, till too late, which teaches them to re- spect an enemy. The pursuit of Cornwallis, and the retreat of Greene before him, has been entitled " a mili- tary race," and the credit awarded to the two parties has been Hmited to the speed with which one of them fled, and with which the other pursued. The subtle pol^ icy which governed Greene's movements has but too fre- quently escaped the notice of historians. It is true, that, assuming it as the cue of the American general to run only, it somewhat worried them to account for his fre- quent halts. But it was easier to suppose that, in doing so, he only blundered in carrying out his own policy, than to admit that there was a something occult in his progress which they could not altogether fathom. The game of Greene, a sufficiently deUcate one, was to amuse his enemy — delay his progi-ess— beguile him with hope, onward and onward, still farther from the base of his op- erations, from all resources, while the country closed in upon him on all hands, and the militia, springing up from the soil, hung upon his footsteps, cutting off his^'sup- plies, and embodying for the final struggle which should give the coup de grace to his career, as in the case of Burgoyne. We must give Cornwallis some cred't for a supposed anticipation of such a fortune. To this, and other causes not apparent to us, we may probably assign 148 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. that incertitude of conduct which seems to have para- lyzed his energies, and was certainly unfavorable to his objects. Greene, meanwhile, after remaining a day upon the banks of the Yadkin — evidently, with the policy which we have indicated, that of beguiling the enemy still farther in pursuit — continued his march, and, at length, planted himself in a secure position, a short distance from Salem, in the forks of Abbott's creek. Here he again halted, and watched the movements of his adver- sary. The position was one which not only enabled him to do this effectually, but served, in some measure, to distract the judgment of Cornwallis in regard to the future route which the Americans might take. On that subject Greene had already decided. He had, from Salisbury, sent instructions to Hugor, with the main army, to push for Guilford, where he designed to effect a junction of the two divisions ; his farther purpose be- ing to make a stand, if advisable under the circum- stances, at that place, and if a proper position could be found for fighting his adversary to advantage. He had grown somewhat weary of seeming only to be desirous of eluding his enemy; and there were several causes, besides, which rendered it advisable that he should give him battle. The moral effect of a prolonged retreat was highly injurious, in a region where the population was not only greatly divided in sentiment, but where they had been greatly dispirited by the previous events )f the conflict. Even the brilliant victory at the Cow- pens, though of the most encouraging character, had failed to make an impression sufficiently deep to exclude from remembrance the repeated disasters of the strug- gle ; and it was highly important that this impression should be renewed, if possible, at this very juncture^ when the efl'ect of this victory was still, though begin GREENE MEDITATES BATTLE. 149 ning to subside, tolerably fresh and vivid in the recollec- tions of the people. Besides, Cornwallis had now been lured sufficiently far from his resources for the purpose of the Americans. He had now reached the centre of North Carolina — was at a great distance from his mag- azines in South Carolina, and quite as remote from the British army then operating in Virginia. Could he be brought now to fight, on a field selected by his adver- sary, he must, necessarily, fight under every disadvan- tage. Even a victory would not materially help his career, could the Americans cripple him in the contest ; while any success to the latter, even a drawn battle, would probably result in placing the British aimy hors du conihat. Short of provisions, with their munitions of war partially or quite exhausted, and encumbered with wounded, they must fall an easy prey to the militia, rising on every hand, under the encouragement afforded by the prospect of overwhelming the invader. With these cal culations, Greene was already contemplating the strug- gle for victory, while Cornwallis imagined him only anxious to elude the strife. We have seen, already, how industriously he had striven, though with small success, to rouse up and organize the militia. Contem- plating the approaching trial of strength with his pur- suer, he wrote to the officers of militia in the vicinity of Guilford, to call out their followers, and appear in all their strength at that place. Couriers were also despatched to Hillsborough for the same object, and every preparation was made for the anticipated encounter. A single day's march would bring the division of Morgan to Guilford, and, with advices that Cornwallis was in motion and had crossed the Yadkin, this body of troops began their movement. The junction of the two divisions was effected on the 9th of February, the army being strength- ened by the arrival of Lee with his legion, who joined 150 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. tiiem on the following day. But the militia did not appear in numbers at all equal to the public expectation ; and a review of the American forces, showed them to be quite inadequate to the struggle with an army so supe- rior in numbers and equipment as that of Cornwallis. The whole of the force under Greene, of all arais, fit for duty, was but two thousand and thirty-six ; of these, but fourteen hundred and twenty-six were regulars. The army of the British, on the other hand, was known to consist of nearly, or quite, three thousand men, all soldiers in the highest state of discipline, and amply pro- vided with the proper clothing and munitions. A coun- cil of war unanimously resolved, that to offer battle to the enemy, under such a disparity of strength and resources, would be sheer desperation ; and Greene reluctantly submitted to the necessity, sufficiently obvious to him- self, of continuing his retreat. Could he have drawn together an additional force of twelve or fifteen hundred \nilitia, his resolution would have been to offer battle ; but the wasting policy which governed the movements jf the militia — by which, recruited for a short period* half of their time was consumed in marching to and from the service — was fatal to their efficiency and the permanence of an army. The Virginia militia, for exam- ple, had been sent into the field for a tour of duty of three months; and, in this brief period, how much of it remained unconsumed, when, going and returning, they were required to traverse, without any employment against the enemy, a space of six hundred milesl As fast, therefore, as new supplies of the militia made tlieir appearance, corresponding numbers were ready to de- part ; and the consequence was, such a fluctuation in the strength of the army, as continually to baffle its efliciency, and to leave it in doubt as to its own numbers. Greene's disappointment was great as he contemplated the neces- Greene's manceuvres. 151 sity of farther retreat. He had been hoping against hope. He had baffled pursuit thus far, but it was still humiliating to be compelled to submit to it ; and, even though he should not be overtaken by his pursuer, it was to the latter an advantage, next to a victory, if the Americans should still b 3 forced to fly. It was not the least mortifying consciousness of the American general, that his opponent, penetrating a whig country, was already lighting his cruel torch in the blaze of burning cottages. Greene could only sorrow for the sufferers : he could neither save nor avenge them. The resolution being taken to continue the retreat, the American general lost no time in putting it in execu- tion. Cornwallis was still pressing forward, and, on the 10th of February, a space of twenty-five miles, only, separated the rival armies. The present aim of Greene was to reach the river Dan, and to place its waters between him and his pursuers. This stream, which rises among the mountains of Virginia, soon penetrates the territory of North Carohna, and, pursuing a sinuous progress for a while, in the latter state, finally takes its way back into Virginia. We shall not follow its course. Enough to say, that, in seasons of freshet, the upper fords alone are passable without boats. Cornwallis nat- urally supposed that Greene would make for this quar- ter ; and the latter so manoeuvred, in his progress, as to confirm him in this impression. But the American gen- eral had already determined upon the route to the lower and deeper crossing-place. Without artillery, and with an inferior army, the passage, at a point which off*ered no interruptions to the pursuit of his enemy, would profit him little in any endeavor to elude his adversary. Nor was the route ofiering by the upper Dan, at all favorable to the hope which he entertained of reinforcements and supplies from Virginia. These supplies were of the 152 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. last importance to his future strength and safety, and he nuturally sought to increase, by all means, the facilities for their arrival. While Cornwallis was manoeuvring busily, to intercept and arrest him in his flight to the upper Dan, Greene encountered his schemes, with others admirably calculated to continue him in his error. He detached from his army a force of seven hundred light troops, the command of which was assigned to Colonel Williams. These troops were composed of the vete- rans of the army — those who had fought at Cowpens, and who were to be relied upon. Unencumbered with baggage, they could move with the greatest rapidity, and their commander had his instructions to throw him- self boldly in the path of the enemy. His detachment, ostensibly a covering force for the retreat of the army, was, nevertheless, pushed forward in a direction which confirmed Cornwallis in the conviction, that Greene was aiming at the upper, or shallow, crossing-places of the Dan. He little knew that his wary adversary had, with excellent forethought, provided boats along the river, at its deepest parts, affording him, at any moment, the means of passage. One of the first measures of hi"! career in the south, when he first assumed the command of the army, was, as we have seen, the exploration of these rivers, and a meet provision of the necessary mate- riel by which to navigate them. It was fortunate, at the same time, that the agents to whom these duties had been assigned, had performed them with that secresy which is one of the essential elements of success in war. The passage of the lower Dan thus provided for, it brought Greene to the strongest point in his own base )f operations, nearer than ever to his sources of supply, his reinforcements, and the magazines which he had also (established, long before, upon the Roanoke. The Dan was now the only river which lay retweor RELATIONS OF THE OPPOSING ARMIES. 153 Coniwallis and Virginia. To suffer the enemy to pass this line, and to form a junction with other bodies of his arnr.y, already within and threatening the latter state, would probably complete the attempted segregation of the south from the confederacy. The eyes of the nation, drawn to the conflict in the south by the brilliant and en couraging affair at the Cowpens, were necessarily fixed, upon the progress of the two armies in the inveterate chase which had been kept up by the British. Never had the anxiety of the country been more intense on any occa- sion. For nearly a month, the whole continent seemed to hang in breathless anticipation, looking momently in dread of some catastrophe which should end the fate of the southera army. Fear had finally given place in some degree to admiration, as the manoeuvres of the American general had so completely succeeded in baf- fling the wolfish rage of the pursuer. But the drama in- creased in its interest with the continuance of the action, and every moment seemed burdened, in the public feel- ing, with the weight of an empire. The two rival com- manders were fully conscious of this interest, and of the vital importance of the struggle. The junction of the two divisions of the American army having been effected at Guilford, Comwallis made a brief halt at Salem, even as the tiger draws himself up and seems to contract his dimensions, as in preparation for the final spring upon that enemy, who has also nerved himself with his fullest strength. Everything in their respective fortunes de- pended upon the gain of a march, and each guarded every movement of his own, and scrutinized all those of his opponent, by all the eyes which armies are permitted to employ — scouts, patrols, and spies — which followed every footstep and reported every conjecture. A first ruse de guerre of Comwallis had for its object to alarm Greene for the safety of his stores at Hillsbor- 7* 154 LIFE OF NATHANAEI <;REENE. ough. These had been delayed at this place, lacking proper meaas of transportation, and were only now un- der way to a place of safety. Hillsborough itself, as the seat cf government, was a place, it was thought, of suffi- cient importance to demand the protection of the Ameri- can army. Its position, on the right of the road to Guil- ford, was directly accessible from Salem. Should Greene lose ground in this direction, he would be cut off from the Dan. The first demonstration of Cornwallis was made on this route. But the American general was not to be overreached. He adroitly turned the practice of his adversary against himself. The instant progress of Williams, with his select detachment, in the direction of the upper Dan, induced the British general to make a movement to the left, in the hope of cutting off this party. The army under Greene, he fondly assumed to be secure — never dreaming of the ferry-boats — and be- lieving that he had them safely in a cul dc sac. Williams, lightly enough equijDped for a race, coolly kept in front of the enemy, always sufficiently near to be confounded with its own advance. For four days he marched thus, steadily forward, beguiling the enemy still fa,rther from his prey. He had with him a force which could be relied upon in such a progress. His command of the seven hundred veterans who had fought at Cowpens,had been strengthened by the legion of Lee, the cavalry of Washington, and a small select body of militia riflemen. These were all steady soldiers, ready for the most des- perate service, and Williams, himself a leader of the most experienced courage, was supported by such gal- lant captains as Howard and Carrington, from whose fearlessness and talent everything might be expected. The scheme of Greene was successful. Mistaking this detachment for the rear-guard of the Americans, Cornwallis at once contracted his extended line of open STRATAGEM OF GREENE. 155 atlons, and concentrated all his efFoits upon the single object of overtaking and bringing his enemy to battle. Greene, meanwhile, was pressing forward in a direct course for the ferry of the lower Dan. His march was a painful one, though utterly unmolested. The cold was intense, and the troops were nearly without shoes or clothing. Hundreds of the soldiers tracked the ground with bloody feet, and in a complaint which one of the American officers utters about this time, we find it sta- ted, that, " as his men were generally barefoot, long marches had, at length, incapacitated them from march- ing at all." In the corps best equipped, a blanket suf- ficed for four men, and cloaks and overcoats were luxu- ries such as the best provided were not even so presump- tuous as to dream of. Greene could only sorrow over the sufferings which he had not the power to alleviate. His troops were, happily, constant in all their sufferings, and, with a perfect confidence in their leader, and with the object of their aim in view, they steadily pressed for- ward, unsinking and unrepining, for four weary days, until, within a few miles of the river, they yielded to toil and night, and snatched a brief respite of refreshing sleep. With the dawn, they resumed their march, and, reaching the banks of the Dan, deeply rolling between, they found the boats in readiness. A few hours sufficed to transport them to the opposite shore. Greene, however, remained on the southern bank of the river, awaiting the light troops, while he sent a despatch to inforai "Williams that the object for which he had been mystifying Cornwallis had been gained. This was on the fifteenth of the month. Williams, meanwhile, had pursued his game with great dexterity and spirit. His first movement had brought him directh m front of his enemy, and drew upon him, as his move raent was meant to do, all the attention of Cornwalli? 156 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. So close and unremitting was now the pursuit of the British general, that our little band was permitted leisure for but a single meal per day, and even this was subject to interruptions which sometimes spoiled the feast, if not the appetite. So severe was the duty of the night, in the emplovment of pickets and patrols, that, but six hours for sleep in forty-eight, were all that the American colonel could possibly allow them. Still they plodded forward with vast perseverance, through wretched roads, in wretched weather, cheerfully, under the necessity, and gratified, as they were conscious that every moment of their pursuit served to insure the safety of the main army. It was not simply a race in which they indulged. They were compelled to maintain a degi'ee of vigilance which allowed them no moment for supposing them- selves in security. The enemy's patrols were continu- ally upon their heels, and frequent skirmishes enlivened the othQrwise tedious progress. On one of these, the enemy suffered a loss of eighteen of Tarleton's troopers, the Americans losing only a poor boy, a bugler, who was totally unarmed, and was butchered while he begged ffr mercy. Lee, who commanded the rear-guard in this conflict, would have taken bloody vengeance upon his murderers, several of whom were taken prisoners in the subsequent affair, but for the occurrence of an alarm which compelled his attention to the enemy, while the prisoners who were thus endangered, were sent forward to the main body, under Williams, and thus saved from the sudden wrath of the indignant cavalier. But the escape of the British dragoons from shai'j") judgment, was an extremely narrow one. Thus, pressing forward, with little leisure allowed for sleep or supper, watching against surprise, and, with an occasional skirmish with their pursuers, the detachment of Williams pursued a devious progress toward the Dan. CLOSE PURSUIT OP WILLIAMS, 157 Four days had now elapsed, while he was engaged in the business of deluding his pursuer. Assuming that that there was no longer a sufficient motive for keeping in front of the enemy, he proceeded to direct his course at once for the river. Accordingly, he drew ciF his detachment cautiously, seeking the nearest road to the crossing place at Boyd's ferry. His ruse had been en- tirely successful. So well had he played his game, that he had completely deceived the British general, who. until this moment, never doubted that he had the whole American army in front. With the discovery of his error, he at once redoubled his efforts to overtake his foe, and, striking a by-path for this object, found him- self once more in the rear of Williams's detachment. This sharpened the appetite of the pursuers, and forced the wary American to the continued employment of all his vigilance and activity. Comwallis sought to bring on a skinnish, in order to retard the flight which he did not seem likely to overtake ; but Williams was not to be lured from the proper path of safety by any venture, however specious and alluring. Though frequently within Btriking distance, the rear-guard of the one army within gun-shot of the advance of the other, the American marks- men were studiously kept from the dangerous impulse which prompted them to use their rifles, though at the risk of bringing on an unequal general action. The stem voice of discipline prevailed to subdue the temper of the Americans for fight, and they sped forward, threatened, wherever their progress was temporarily checked by obstacles of road or river, by the fierce demonstrations of the enemy. But the collision was eluded ; the retreating force maintained its advance ; and thus, step by step, the British still pressing on their heels, the chase was continued, through storm and snow •—through roads, saturated with water, chill with damp. 158 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. or frozen by cold. Many weary miles yet lay between them and their point of destination, when the night set- tled down upon their progress. But, suddenly, they be- held the blaze of numerous fires, which they at once felt sure were those of Greene's araiy. The first impulse was to wheel about upon their pursuers, and, at every hazard, engage them in desperate conflict, in order to save the division of the army which they fancied to be thus reposing in delusive security. But a second thought relieved them of their fear, and saved them from this desperate necessity. Williams knew his commander too well to leave him in any doubt as to that prudence which, had he continued to occupy this position, would have been put to shame for ever. He felt sure, as, in the sequel, it proved, that the fires which he saw blazing were those which Greene had left to burn when he re- sumed his march. He had put his troops in motion sev- eral hours before, and Williams snatched a brief interval of rest, which a halt of the British now afforded him, for sleeping upon the ground which his general had previ- ously occupied. Here the Americans slept till midnight. The British, having built their fires also, offered no farther present molestation. With the midnight, the former were again in motion. They were still forty miles from the place of safety, and every moment became precious for secu- rity. The necessity was equally great with CornwalHs. To suffer his prey to escape him, was to endanger his own security, and materially to discredit his generalship. The detachment of Williams was almost within his grasp, and, not dreaming of the boats which Greene had provided in advance of the necessity, he fondly hoped to gather both divisions, on this side the Dan, at one fell swoop of his superior forces. The chase became more desperate than ever. The energies of both parties were ESCAPE OP THE AMERICANS. 159 Btnmg to the utmost, a nervous will stimulating exertion almost beyond the endurance of the physical capacity. Over ground now hard and frozen, through the imper- fect shadows of the night, pursuer and pursued went forward on their doubtful way. Day dawned, and the British van was once more within speaking distance of the American rear. And thus continued the relation- ship of the two bodies throughout the morning. Ex- haustion craved a respite. One hour, before noon, was stolen for refreshment, and the progress was resumed. Soon, however, the Americans were cheered with the tidings of Greene's safety, with the army, on the opposite side of the river. His express encountered Williams, at noon, with this grateful intelligence. The boats were in waiting for his detachment; and the prospect of a long rest and certain security, was at length before them. It needed but one more effort, and this, with men thus encouraged, was easily made. They would soon link arms with their comrades, and this reflection put new life into their veins. The toils already overcome were all forgotten, in the repose which was promised them at last. When within fifteen miles of the Dan, a move- ment was made by which the greater part of the de- tachment was drawn off, and led, by the shortest path- way, to the ferry. The legion of Lee, meanwhile, keep- ing in front of the enemy, and occupying his attention. The infantry of the legion next followed the march of Williams, leaving the cavalry between them and the foe ; and the cavalry, in due season, made their appear- ance at the river, which had now been passed by all the foot. Night was already over the Dan, when the troop- ers, leading their horses by the rein, and forcing them into the river, entered the returning boats. They, too, W(?ro crossed over in safety, their last files ascending the r.orthern bank of the Dan as the advance of the 160 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENEo British rushed into sight upon the southern. The prey had entirely escaped them. The river was unfordahle ; the boats were in the hands of the Americans ; and, for the present* pursuit was entirely cut off. THE RIVAL ARMIES. 161 CHAPTER XL The Armies watch each other. — The Militia collect under Pickens an^ Caswell. — Coniwallis retires upon Hillsborough. — Greene recrosses the Dan.— Pickens and Lee operate successfully upon the British Detach ments. — Sanguinary Defeat of Loyalists under Pyles, and Pui-suit of Tarleton. The feelings with which Cornwallis contemplated the American army, in safety, upon the opposite banks of the Dan, and, for the present, totally unapproachable, may be better imagined than described. Without a blow be- ing struck, Greene had gained a most important victory; and the reputation of the British general, and the cause in which he was engaged, was destined to suffer propor- tionally. The remarkable chase an«d escape which we have just recorded, waif one of the most impressive of the incidents of the war. It had riveted the attention of both friends and foes, from the moment of its beginning, on the southern side of the Catawba, to the time when it ended by throwing the swollen waters of the Dan between, the opposing armies. The public mind of America, sensible of the condition of Greene's army, its poverty in clothing and munitions, its inferior numbers, and the vast stake which the counti-y had in its safety, was natu- rally wrought up to a pitch of the most intense and eager anxiety. It was not expected thaL^reene should cope with his enemy at the point of the bayonet. For that, the wide disparity of strength and equipment, between the British and Americans, had rendered impossible 162 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. That he should escape defeat and captivity was their only object ; and, his doing this, under the circumstances, was to obtain the victory. He had led his little forces through a perilous extent of country, more than twc hundred miles, in the breaking-up of winter, amid cold, hunger, and nakedness, over roads saturated with inces- sant rains, and with an eager, enterprising, well-clad enemy, in superior numbers, closely pressing at his heels. He had successfully deluded that enemy, and had baffled the pursuit. There was but one opinion as to his supe- rior generalship. Washington writes: "Your retreat before Cornwallis is highly applauded by all ranks, and reflects much honor on your military abilities." Tarle- ton adds to this the testimony of an enemy, when he says that " every measure of the Americans, during their march from the Catawba to Virginia, was judiciously designed and vigorously executed." The army, itself, was by no means unconscious of the importance of their escape, and of the superior general- ship by which it had been effected. Great was the exultation, and general the felicitation, in the American camp, on the night of the 15th of February. The sol- dier had a respite from pursuit. He was permitted, once more, to sleep in security. The separate divisions, once more united, could while away the weariness of the night, by comparing their several experiences during the march ; and, in full feeling of the success which had crowned their efforts, indulge in delightful anticipations of still more fortunate results, from future enterprises, waged under circumstances more auspicious. But, the care which they could mock, clung still to the side of their commander, and drove sleep from his pillow. We have numerous proofs, in the letters which he wrote this night, while others slept, of a spirit ill at ease — a mind unsatisfied, amid all its successes, that so much i-emained GREENE S LABORS AND POLICY. ]G3 undone, which should be done, but, for the performance of which, no adequate means had been allowed him. The army was saved, it was time ; but, another southern state had been yielded to the ravages of the enemy. The Fabian system, which Greene pursued no less than Washington, might save the ti'oops, but at the expense of the country. The reproach, however, could, not bo urged against the general, while the troops did not ap- pear ; and, borrowing the words of the great Frederick, Greene cried aloud, in the bitterness of his soul : " Oh ! that, of the thousand who remain in idleness at home, I had only a few hundred with me in the field." The flames of forergn war were spreading, and he was permitted only to survey them. To arrest them was the pregnant necessity before him, and the safety of the army was but temporary only. Well might care and anxiety drive slumber from his eyelids. His toils had not been less than those of the meanest soldier, and his respite had been even less. From the day when he had ridden, almost alone, through a hostile country, from his own to the camp of Morgan on the Catawba, he had never once undressed himself for sleep. His slumbers had been snatched by the wayside — imperfect moments, in which nature rather yielded to exhaustion, than to a desire for and satisfaction from repose. The days of halt, which were accorded to his troops for rest and recreation, were employed by their commander only in newer toils and fresher exertions. His correspondence, written at pe- riods thus stolen equally from the saddle and from sleep, is singularly various, and in proof of a mind that ranged through all the departments under his care, and suffered the interests of none to escape his sci-utiny. The pres- ent and future condition of the aniiy — the state of the coui^Ty, its resources and dangers — the character of the militia, and its improvement — the commissariat and 164 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. Other departments, — these employed him in unremitted labors — in continued appeals; now writing to leading men throughout the nation, now to the governors of the several states, and now to those who were specially con- nected with the progress of his immediate command. It is surpri'sing, with what equal comprehensiveness and circumspection these letters were written. Nothing, necessary to the detail, is deficient; while the governing intelligence which presides over the whole, exhibits a capacity for generalization, which leaves nothing want- ing to thought. Yet, these letters may be said to have been written in the saddle, amid the continual confusion and interruptions of the camp, or in those hours of repose and silence, when sleep Wjould seem to be quite as necessary to the general as to his ti'oops. His cor- respondence with Patrick Henry, Jefferson, Washington, Steuben, and others, betrays the most indefatigable pa- tience and industry, mingled with an anxiety which the stern sense of patriotic duty, alone, enables him to sub- due. He felt that his present respite was temporary; that the game must be quickly renewed ; that, with the falling of the waters of the Dan, the British would again resume the pursuit ; and that he must, once more, adopt the humiliating necessity of farther flight, unless he could secure seasonable reinforcements. To this object, then, he addressed himself; and, consulting all the difficulties of his situation, calculated, with intense application, the problem of chances, in regard to his own and the move- ments of his enemy. With reinforcements, the British general was almost in his grasp. But, could he rely on the delusive promises which had been so often, and so fruitlessly, made him 1 He had been fed on promises, decrees, and resolutions ; and his faith was grievously shaken in those assurances of Congresses and governors, which had so frequently held THE OPPOSING ARMIES. 165 " The word of promise to his ear, To break it to his hope." He was told that the Virginians and North-Carolinians were about to pour in and fill his ranks, and that Steu- ben was hurrying on a body of recruits for the Virginia regiments ; but days and weeks might elapse, before these could reach headquarters, and the time for ac- tion and successful operations was momentarily escaping him. The river, on the 16th, it was announced, was rapidly falling. This added to Greene's perplexities ; it compelled him to determine quickly. The fords were numerous at low stages of the water, and a farther retreat appeared inevitable. In anticipation of this ne- cessity, the baggage of the American army was sent for- ward to Halifax, and orders were given to prepare means for making good the passage of the river Staunton. The troops were ordered to hold themselves in readiness for marching, as soon as the necessity became imperative for a farther reti'eat. These arrangements made, the two armies remained in tranquillity, watching the rivoi and each other. It was, to Greene, the most tantalizing thing in the Avorld, that, with the British fairly in his clutches, he had not the power to contract his folds upon them. The situation of Cornwallis, had the American force been in ^he situation to take advantage of it, was perilous in the extreme. The British general, in his avidity after his prey, had pursued so far, as to make his advance and retreat equally hazardous. He had withdrawn himself to a distance from his garrisons, and was without stores or magazines. His hope lay in his own audacity, energy, and the errors of his wily opponent. Greene felt this, and his watchfulness was redoubled. Still, he had hopes of something better than being merely able to elude his pursuer. Could he receive his recruits and supplies in 160 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. season, it might be possible to end the war by the cap* ture of a second British army. But this prospect could iiepend only on the reinforcements promised him. Small as was the force which he had, the severe marches which he had been compelled to take, had still farther lessened its numbers, and impaired its efficiency. It was still winter, and the clothing of his Z'e.^^clad men was suitable only for the summer. Many were still naked. The effect of this condition may be seen from the returns of the Maryland line, one of the noblest bodies of troops which the war had seen. With eight hundred and sixty- one fit for duty, two hundred and seventy-four were in the hospitals. The whole force in camp, fit for duty, on the 17th, was but one thousand and seventy-eight infan try, sixty -four artillery, one hundred and seventy-six cavalry, legionary infantry one hundred and twelve, and the militia of Pickens one hundred and fifty in number. *' How is it possible," Greene asks, " for an army circum- stanced like ours, to make head against one organized and equipped like that of Cornwallis ?" But the hopes brightened with delay. At the very moment when Greene was apprehensive that he should be forced to resume the retreat, he had intelligence of a considerable increase to the militia force under Pickens. The latter had succeeded in raising a body of seven hun- dred men, and was now approaching the enemy's left. General Caswell, at the same time, with another body of militia, was making a similar demonstration on the opposite flank of the British. These movements disqui- eted Cornwallis. They no longer left him the option of pursuit. The atmosphere was not sufficiently friendly for the health of his troops, ard he prepared to change the air. Greene waited for this movement only to rccros? the river. The waving of a handkerchief from a friendly female, under cover of the bank, apprized the Americans BRITISH MARCH TO HILLSBOROUGH. 167 that the Biitish were under march. Ai soon as tliis signal was made, the army of Greene was put in motion. A small detachment of picked men, under Major Bur- net, led the way across the river, and prepared to hang upon the enemy's skirts and. report their movements. They were followed by Lee, with his legion, whose instructions were to harass their progress, and snatch every opportunity for cutting off their pickets and smaller parties. As yet, the main body of the army did not fol- low. There were reasons why it should remain in reserve, particularly as the destination of Cornwallis was still unknown. Apprehensions were felt for the safety of Halifax, on the Roanoke, a place combining numerous advantages, of such a character as to determine the American general to risk a battle in its defence. To strengthen this position, Kosciuzko had been already despatched, as an engineer, to superintend the construc- tion of fortifications ; and the eye of Greene was fixed upon this point, as one which, in the possession of the enemy, would give him a position which might equally control the Carolinas and Virginia. To prevent this, at all hazards, it became important that he should be in a situation to fly to the defence of the place at the first appearance of danger. But, Cornwallis was not slow in the development of his game. His encampment on the Dan was broken up on the 18th of February. At first, his course left it doubtful whether he meant to cross the river at one of the upper ferries, in order to continue his attempt upon the main army of Greene, or to strike a blow at the militia force of Pickens. As he continued to advance, the magazines on the Roanoke were supposed to be threatened. But, soon, all doubts were ended, as he Buddenly wheeled about, turning his back upon the Dan, and marching, direct, to Hillsborough. Here he planted 168 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. the royal standard, and issued a proclamation to all good and faithful subjects to repair to it. The region was, professedly, a loyal one ; and large calculations might, reasonably, be made upon the alacrity with which this summons would be obeyed. At first, the prospect was very encouraging of a large accession to his num- bers. His pursuit of Greene, his presence on the spot in force, both conspired to stimulate the tories, and de- press and discourage the whigs. Seven companies of the former were reported, in one day, as in course of organization. For three days, the promise continued of this character ; but, suddenly, these hopeful auxiliaries disappeared, and their absence was sufficiently accounted for by the tidings that Greene was again on the southern bank of the Dan, while Pickens and Lee were, already, engaged in reconnoitring the camp of the British. It was with increased bitterness that Cornwallis felt his disappointment and perceive'd his danger. It was on this occasion that he wrote to the ministry, that he was *' surrounded by timid friends and inveterate enemies." It was now his necessity to fight with Green, if possible* In no other way could he hope to dissipate his dan- gers, and break through the meshes by which he was environed. The Americans had received accessions of force from several quarters. He had suffered none of the move- ments of Cornwallis to escape him. At first, supposing that the British general aimed to escape to the coast by Wilmington, he determined to throw himself across his path, and delay his progress, until the final issue could be brought about under favorable auspices. " If we can lelay Corn\yallis for a day or two," is his language, "he mast be ruined." Pickens and Lee were pushed for- ward with the utmost rapidity — the legion of the latter being strengthened by a couple of companies of Mary- PARTISAN MOVEMENTS. 169 landers. They were to hang upon his rear, and harass him with all their energies ; and better chieftains for such a purpose could not have been chosen But Cornwallis was not the soldier to retreat while the sword could possibly cut asunder the web which sur- rounded him. It was soon ascertained that he was in no hurry to depart; and Greene's apprehensions were gi-eatly excited by the reported progress which the British general was making in the enrolment of the tories about his standard. These tidings contributed to determine him upon recrossing the Dan. To close around Corn- wallis, to cut off his supplies, prevent a general rising of the loyalists, and cut them up in detail, before they could reach the royal army, was the poHcy of the American commander. His light troops were everywhere set in motion for these objects. The disposition of Pickens and Lee had already brought them within striking distance of the British camp ; — Otho Williams was again in the field, with the excellent legion which he had so lately led in successful retreat; — Stevens, with a thousand volun- teers, had returned from Virginia; — Butler was in mo- tion, with a considerable body of North-Carolinians; — and a brisk business was soon begun by these separate detachments, having for their object the clipping of the British claws, and such a contraction of their powers, as to compel their final surrender or annihilation. It was on the 20th of February that Cornwallis erected his standard at Hillsborough. On the 23d, Greene re- crossed the Dan with his whole army. The day before this, a detachment from Pickens's command, led by Colonel M'Call, had surprised and earned off a British picket, only two miles from the royal camp. This was an audacity too great to be endured, and Tarleton was despatched, with a strong force of horse and foot, to keep the Americans within bounds, and afford all encourage- 170 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. ment to the rising loyalists. Meantime, Pickens had formed a junction with Lee, and had been advised of Tarleton's expedition. This was so much grist to their mill. They determined to have it so. With dawn they set forth in search of the British legion. Tarleton, with his usual devastating ferocity, had sufficiently traced out his route for the pursuers. They had but to follow his trail of fire — the smoking habitations of the whigs marking, for many miles, his progress. So rapid was the pursuit of the Americans, that, by noon, they were within three miles of the place where Tarleton had stopped to dine. Unconscious of their proximity, he had moved away in season, and had passed the Haw at the first conve- nient ford. It was while rapidly pressing forward in the pursuit, hoping that he might be overtaken before night, that the path of the Americans was suddenly crossed by a strong party of tories, under Colonel Pyles. These were dispersed, but not without great slaughter, in con- sequence of a mistake of the unfortunate tories, who con- founded Lee's with Tarleton's legion, and only com- menced firing at a moment when the effort was fruitless for defence, and served only to provoke the fury of the militia. The delay was a serious hinderance to the pur- suit of Tarleton. It brought on darkness. Neverthe- less, Pickens resolved not to rest until he had thrown himself between the British dragoons and certain detach- ments of whig militia under Colonel Preston and others, which Tarleton was aiming to cut off. It was fortu- nate that he adopted this resolution, as he succeeded that night in uniting Preston's and the other bodies of mili- tia with his own force, adding to its strength, and saving them from the edge of Tarleton's sabre. The force of Pickens, increased by these auxiliaries, was now very decidedly superior to that of Tarleton. It consisted of two hundred and fifty excellent bayonets, three hundred ATTEMPTS UPON TARLETON. 17l militia marksmen, and the command of Preston, three hundred more. The cavalry of M'Call and Lee, though less in numbers than that of Tarleton, was better mount- ed, and of far better material. The command of Tarle- ton composed all the cavalry of the British army, two hundred and fifty infantry, and two pieces of artillery. Could the Americans but overtake and overcome this detachment, the army of Cornwallis was at their mercy. Deprived of his cavalry, and of so large a portion of his infantry, he must have sought safety in flight; and the result of such an attempt, in a countiy swarm- ing with mounted militia, need not be matter of doubt or speculation. . The fate of Cornwallis lay in other hands, however those of Greene may have paved the way for it. Tarleton, him- self, never dreamed of the enemy that was at his heels. He had actually drawn up his men at midnight, arrang- ing for the capture of Preston and his volunteers. But Cornwallis waj more apprehensive, and, consequently more vigilant. He had received advices of the advance of the American army, and trembled for the fate of the detachment in the hands of his dragoon. He dreaded lest another affair like that at the Cowpens should utterly ruin him, and courier after courier, to the number of three, was despatched by the British commander in pur- suit of Tarleton, apprizing him of his danger, and recal- ling him instantly to camp. The British colonel obeyed; and with such equal caution and precipitation, that he had gained nearly two hours of his march before his movement was discovered by the scouts of the Ameri- cans. With the first intimation of his departure, Pick- ens was on the alert. His detachment was set in motion, though at midnight, and the pursuit was instantly begun. So dark was the night, when this movement was made, that the troops were obliged to employ torches oi light- 172 lifl: op nathanael greene. wooa (resinous pine) to liglit them on their progress. Yet so earnest was the pursuit, that, when the first files of the Americans reached the banks of the Haw, the rea;:-guard of the enemy was just ascending the heights of the opposite shore. Here the pursuit was arrested. The British colonel, planting his artillery in a position to command the ford, and occupying such a position with his infantry as to give his cannon the best support, ren- dered the passajre quite too hazardous to be attempted. The Americans were without artillery. To attempt the passage at another ford would be only to afford the enemy such an advantage in the race as no subsequent efforts could overcome ; at all events, not before he had been reinforced by support from the British camp. And thus it was, that the prey was snatcned from the grasp of tae American general almost at the very moment when his fingers were about to close upon it. But the expe- dition had proved of the greatest uses. The recruits of the whig militia had been saved from disaster, their friends had been encouraged, while the tory force under Pyles, four hundred in number, had been cut to pieces, and the loyalists disheartened by a disaster so unexpected, and a punishment so sanguinary. AMERICAN POLICY. IT3 CHAPTER Xll. Strategies of the two AiTaies. — Comwallis surrounded by the Partisans. — Their Activity and Audacity. — He attempts to elude them, and cut Greene off from his Detachments. — He pursues Williams, who escapes him. — Cornwallis retires, and Greene prepares for Action. The operations of Pickens and Lee, though only in part successful, were yet productive of the happiest results, particularly in discouraging the loyalists from taking the field. They afforded, thus, an auspicious beginning of that new enterprise, on the part of the com- mander of the American forces, which had prompted him to recross the Dan. Greene, meanwhile, lost no time in making himself ready for the field. Inferior still, in strength, to his adversary, and sadly wanting in equipments, he felt the necessity of incurring a risk in the endeavor to prevent Comwallis from utterly over- running the " old north state," as he had overrun South Carolina. Though not in sufficient strength to measure weapons with the British general, it was still in his power to defeat his leading objects, by cutting off his detach- ments, arresting the proceedings of the disaffected, and giving encouragement, by his activity and presence, to those who were friendly to the whig cause. For these purposes, he was particularly well provided in the proper officers. With Pickens to conduct the militia riflemen ; with Lee to guide the impetuous movements of the legion; with Williams to show himself, ubiquitously W'th his active and veteran light infantry, — he was 114 LIFE OP NATHANAEL UREENE. possessed of so many wings, rapidly wheeling at evei*y movement of the enemy, harassing him in his entei'prises, and keeping him, for ever, in a feverish state of doubt and insecurity. These able leaders were all kept well- informed of the desires of their commander. Attended only by a small escort of Washington's dragoons, Greene made his way across the country, to the separate camps of these several detachments, earnestly, but affection ately, counselling with them on his and their future prog- ress. From the wigwam of green bushes that formed the shelter of Pickens and Lee, he sped to the camp of Williams, suffering nothing to escape his observation in regard to their common enterprise. Hard was the hourly toil which this sort of progress imposed upon him and them. Sorry were the fare and shelter in the forest tent of Pickens ; and the two generals, after long consultation, wrapped in their cloaks, were compelled to seek for the necessary warmth, and snatch a brief term of repose, in the folds of a single blanket. The object of Grreene in this hazardous visit, in which he narrowly escaped contact with the legion of Tarleton, was to obtain information, to prepare his partisans for the antici- pated escape of Cornwallis, and to urge them to the suppression of the loyalists who had appointed the forks of the Haw and Deep rivers as their place of rendez- vous. But, soon satisfied that Cornwallis no longer con- templated flight — that he had deluded himself with the idea that the state was fairly in his power — and that his army would be sufficiently strengthened against the Americans, by his tory recruits, to enable him to make a stand, and seek once more the final issue, — Greene saw that nothing, now, remained to be done, but to prepare for the decisive struggle. He proceeded, therefore, to hasten on his reinforcements, occupying, meanwhile, with tho main army, such a position as would best enable CORNWALLIS SEEKS GREENE. 175 iiim to cover their concentration, and cut off the commu« nication of the enemy with the upper country. With these views, the army, having crossed the Dan, was marched toward the head-waters of the Haw, on the route to Guilford. To keep the field between the Haw and the Dan, was a matter of some difficulty; but the very hazard of the service had its recommendation, as it afforded to the volunteers that active employment and constant exercise, which can alone satisfy the eager and impetuous nature, which the unperforming life of the camp would only discourage and disgust. The demon- stration had its uses for other reasons. It encouraged, with a show of confidence and strength, the more tim- orous friends of the cause throughout the country, and impressed upon its enemies a sense of respect, which, necessarily, exaggerated the strength of the Americans, and made them doubtful of their own. The audacity and activity of the light troops of Greene's army, under their accomplished leaders, constituted another guaranty for his security. We have had a sample of their uses, in beating up the quarters of the enemy, cutting off their pickets and detachments, preventing their supplies, and quelling the spirit of their allies. With such partisan officers, the wings and the eyes of the army, Greene's own sagacity, and his knowledge of the character of Cornvvallis, enabled him to do the rest. The coolness, forethought, and circumspection of the one, even with inferior forces, were well opposed to, and a sufficient match for, the imperious will, impetuous haste, and san- guine impulse of the other. As soon as Tarleton had rejoined the royal army, Cornwallis prepared for active operations. He pene- trated the objects of Greene, and felt the necessity of counteracting them, if possible. With this view, he abandoned Hillsborough on the 26th of February, and t76 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. threw himself across the Haw, taking post near Alemance creek, one of the principal tiibutaries of that river. This movement had for its object to cut Greene off from the upper country, to enable the British troops to cover the uprising of the loyalists, and to forage in a region, the resources of which were, comparatively, abundant. The design was skilfully conceived, and reduced the American general to three alternatives : he might either offer bat- tle to an antagonist who wished nothing better; once more retreat across the Dan, and leave the state to the invader ; or advance still farther on the route, by Guil- ford, toward Salisbury. In other words, the aim of Cornwallis was to compel his adversary to fly or fight ; and the policy of Greene was to avoid either necessity. It was a peculiar game to play, and required all the skill of the strategist. It was in this department of war that Greene's particular merit lay. He was thoroughly sen- sible of the truth, that he can be no general whom the enemy can force to fight at pleasure ; and, concentrating all his resources upon the object before him, a series of manoeuvres followed, which declared, more impressively than ever, the extent of his abilities, and the strength and confidence with which he managed them. To keep steadily in mind the necessity of covering his own rein- forcements, preventing those of the enemy, and saving himself from disaster, was the great purpose which governed every movement in his progress, and counselled every enterprise. Cornwallis was not insensible to the. merits of his enemy, and his own necessities. His mind seemed to nse to the level of his exigenc"es. His chief object seems to have been to persuade the attention of the Amer- ican commander in one direction, while he decoyed his reinforcements within striking distance in another. In doing this, he had to keep in mind the necessity of never Greene's strategies. 177 Deing too remote fjom his own stores at Wilmington, which the growing distress of his own army had now begun to render doubly important to his interests. Greene, meanwhile, kept even pace with the march of the British general. Vigilance and activity were his prevaihng dictates. Carefully did he avoid every lisk which might bring on a general action; and his arrange- ments never failed to contemplate an open avenue, either for advance oi* retreat. He thus armed himself against every manoeuvre of his enemy ; but no labor could have been more exhaustinor as no srame could be more full of perplexity and doubt. Thus counselled, he pressed for- ward, and crossed the Haw, near its source, and chose for the scene of operations, the ground which lies be- tween Troublesome creek and Reedy fork. Here were Greene's headquarters, but he was in no circumstances to be fettered by an arbitrary choice of position. His place was changed nightly, and the ca- pricious front which he displayed, served the double pui*pose of not only leaving the enemy uncertain of his position, but of his numbers. His detachments, strengthened at his own expense, were active in corre- spondence with their strength. His light troops were continually hovering about the enemy, darting upon his foraging-parties, cutting off his supplies and intelligence^ beating up his quarters, vexing his march, and exhaust- ing him, by incessant provocations to fruitless service. In this occupation, it is difficult to say which of the par- tisans was most conspicuous. Williams, Pickens, Lee, and Washington, equally distinguished themselves upon the flanks, and in the front, of the enemy. The former, jnaintaining always a proper position for supporting the detachments, was equally careful to be sufficiently neai to co-operate, when necessary, with the main aniiy. Joined by Pickens, while manoeuvring in the vicinity 8* 178 LIFE OF NATIIAN'AEL GREENE. of the 1 law, the two bodies now threw themselves in front of the enemy, one on each side of the Alemance creek. Their force, strengthened by large accessions of militia, had become so considerable, that, on one occa- sion, they seriously meditated a combined attack upon the British general. Such had been the secresy and celerit}^ of their movements, that he had been utterly bewildered by them. He could form no idea of their numbers, and was only conscious of their presence, by feeling them — in military language — throughout the night. That these two leaders did not make their attack, arose from counsels to a delay for a more auspi- cious moment, which, unhappily, did not again occur. Thus operating, at once in front, flank, and rear, doubling upon their grounds daily, like a fox, now approaching and now retiring, but never so far as to relieve their adversary's detachments from a wholesome fear of danger, the several divisions of Greene's army contrived still to keep the region into which he had been bold enough to penetrate. No will-of-the-wisp ever sport- ed more capriciously with the benighted traveller, than these partisans with the British general. He knew not in what quarter to look for the foe, whom, but the last night, he had felt in this — knew not where to appre- hend the danger to-night, which had threatened him, equally, on all quarters, the night before. Every source of intelligence seemed to be cut off. His horizon was bounded to a span. His cavalry seemed adventurous no longer. The wondrous energy and success of Tarle- ton were suddenly at an end ; and, as for the anxious tories, lately as fussy and full of exercise as an over- flowing hive about to send out its swarms, they dreaded to make the slightest humming, which should declare their vitality, lest it should waken sharp echoes from the sat)ros of Washington, or the fatal rifles of Pickens CORNVr.ALLIs's MOVEMENTS. 170 Cornwallis was naturally anxious to relieve himself of such troublesome attendants. His position was be- coming exceedingly delicate and doubtful. His skill, though considerable, had hitherto been unavailing. It was in vain that he urged the genius of Tarleton into enterprise. A Kingle brush of that desperate dragoon with the legion infantry, gave him no encouragement to press his fortunes, and suggested additional reasons to Cornwallis, for an effort of deeper policy, and more decisive endeavor, than had yet been made. Circum- stances seemed to favor his desires. He had succeeded in procuring some certain intelligence of these detach- ments of the Americans, whose ubiquitous career had been so distressing to his forces. Like some great ani- mal, assailed by inferior forces, which only escape his rage in consequence of their superior agility, he affected to sleep in his position. For six days he remained almost quiet on the Alemance, with an occasional dem- onstration on the road to Cross creek. His quiet was m^eant to lull the Americans into mometitary security : his demonstrations in the direction of Cross creek, to divert their attention from his true object. He almost succeeded in this ruse. Greene, meanwhile, with the main army, lay at Boyd's feriy, fifteen miles from the camp of Cornwallis. Williams was more within his reach, and, on the night of the 6th of March, lay but a few miles off, on the left of the enemy. Could the British general succeed in surprising Williams, or in darting by him, so as to reach the High Rock ford, m advance of Greene, then would the latter be most effectually separated from his detachments, and be com- pelled to leave them to their fate, or hazard his whole army in a battle, to secure the junction with them. Suddenly, then, in the hope of achieving this object, Cornwallis set his army in motion early on the morning 180 LIFE OF NATIIANAEI.- GREENE. of the 6th. His movements, though unanticipated, wore not wholly unprepared for. He did not succeed in his surprise of Williams ; who, keeping good watch, dis- covered his march when he was yet two miles off, and instantly set his detachment in motion. His course, like that of Cornwallis, was for Wetzel's mills, across the Reedy Fork. Throwing himself in front of his enemy, he despatched advices to Greene of the threatened dan- ger, and then proceeded to strain every nerve to attain the pass by which alone could he unite his force with that of his superior. Throwing out light flanking parties, under Colonc^.s Preston and Campbell, to annoy the ad- vance of the enemy, he succeeded in keeping the start which he had had at the beginning, and the race continued, with great spirit, until the passage of the ford, at Wet- zel's mills, was effected. Drawn up on the opposite bank of the stream, they were prepared to dispute the farther progress of the British, whose advance, under Tarleton, soon made its appearance, but, awed by the presence of the American cavalry under Washington and Lee, they forbore to attempt the passage. The detachment undei Preston engaged the enemy in a smart skirmish, the advantages of which enured to the Americans. A few prisoners were taken on both sides. Here, on the east bank of the Haw river, Williams became informed of the true purpose of the British general. Greene was apprized of it in season; and though Cornwallis had stolen a march on Williams, and had very adroitly managed his enterprise, he failed entirely to secure his prey, when almost within his grasp. A series of well- concerted movements on the part of Greene, and the leaders of his detachments, were admirably successful ; and, when the British general reached the point at which he expected to intercept his adversary — com- oelling him either to abandon his advancing reinforce* roUNWALLJS FOREUOES PURSUIT. 181 ments. or forcing him to an action in their defence.-hG had the mortification to find that the Americans had gained the opposite bank of the river, wher-e, bo h divisions of their army being united, they could safely oppose his passage across the stream, ar,d be secure of the junction with their vapidly-approachmg reinforce- ments. , • i This was the last contest of skill between the rival captains. Cornwallis, at length, despaired of outgen- eralling his antagonist. His only hope, now, lay m suffering him to accumulate his forces in sufficient strength to engage boldly in the struggle, where die arbiter should be the sword. Returnmg suUenly fiom the pursuit, he took post at Bell's mills, on Deep river, while Greene, in his camp on Troublesome creek, gave his troops a brief respite, while waiting the arrival of his Virginia corps and militia. A few days enabled these to make their appearance, bringing with them stores and supplies, which were, of all things, most needed by the suffering arniy. The North Carolina militia began to pour in, while detached parties of militia and volunteers, from time to time, added to the bulk of the army, so as to swell its numbers to a com- plement of more than four thousand men. With these Greene was superior to his adversary. Fifteen hundred of these troops were regulars. A considerable body had been well-trained, and had enjoyed much valuable experience in the field. They were such as could be relied upon, as well for steadfastness as courage. His volunteers and militia were by no means wantmg m resolution and spirit. Their deficiencies lay wholly in their want of training. Unaccustomed to long endu- ranee in the field, to concerted action, to rapid movo ments, and subjection to discipline, their efficiency lay rather in their quick employment in actual conflict 182 LIFE OF NATIIAXAEL GREENE. than in the more slow and tedious, but not less impor- tant duties of m arching, mana3uvring, and rapid evolu- tion. To employ these sulHciently, who constituted so large a part of his army — to confirm the spirit of his troops — to raise that of the people, to respond to the call l>f public opinion, which now began loudly to demand a battle — Greene prepared to afford his adversary the opportunity which the latter had appeared so long and so eaniestly to seek. The forces of Cornwallis did not number more than tv/o thirds of his own ; but they were all picked soldiers, men of tried courage, of long experience in the field, and admirable training. In numbers, Greene was the superior to Cornwallis, but far his inferior in discipline and equipment; and the for- mer did not regard the approaching issue with so much confidence as hope. He was in a measure compelled to seek the fight. He could expect no more regulars, and he was to employ and encourage the militia. The hopes of the British rested upon their loyalist auxili- aries, and these were best quieted by a conflict, in which, even if successful, the British army should bo greatly crippled and disorganized. A few days devoted to the drilling of his militia, calling in and dissolving his detachments, reviewing and concentrating his strength, and making the other needful preparations, and Greene advanced to Guilford Courthouse, taking post, on the 14th March, 1781, within twelve miles of the enemy. To approach within this distance to an enemy is a mili- tary challenge. Its purport was understood; nor was Cornwallis unwilling for the encounter. Both armies accordingly prepaied themselves for action THE FIELD OF GUILFORD. 183 CHAPTER XIII. The Battle of Guilford—Its Vicissitudes.-Duel between Colonel Stuart aiid Captain Smith.-Slaughter among the Guards.-Retreat ot the Americans. The scene of battle on the present occasion, had long before attracted the military eye of Greene for this very purpose. He had noted its susceptibilities, on his first retreat from the Yadkin to the Dan, particularly for the employment of irregular troops, in which an undisci- phned militia, with certain advantages derived from the inequalities of the surface of the field, might success- fully be brought to oppose the steadier onset of a vete- ran enemy. The country was, in fact, little better than a wilderness. The settlements were few, and the unbro- ken forest spread itself on every hand, leaving but a few openings here and there, indicative of the mere dawn of cultivation. The road wound its way between thick masses of forest and undergrowth. The defile was nar- row ; dense coverts of copse and brush shadowed it on all hands and with few open intervals ; while the ground, ascending gradually, with occasional undulations, from hill to hill, conducted finally to the superior emmence, ^^hich was occupied by the courthouse. With the ascent of these hills, the road begins to enlarge and expand. The brushwood begins to disappear ; open fields, and small clearings, let in the nrore frequent light ; while the fences of the farmer, which the approachmg armies had not yet torn away, were standing in proof of rhe humble first beginnings of art, in its conflict witl^ IS I LIFE OF NATIIANAEI, GREENE. nature. These fields were mostly abandoned. A stunted growth, such as naturally occurs in like cases, had be- gun to appear, but not in such degree as to offer obstruc- tion to the progress of troops in battle. The ascent of the ground was gradual, sloping gently from the court- house, and subsiding at last, into a rivulet, which wound its way along the edges of a piece of swamp or bottom- land. The open tracts were divided by a dense mass of forest, which concealed them from each other. The space immediately about the courthouse was partly sheltered by a growth of saplings, which also foraied a partial border for the high-road to Salisbury. Occasional ravines, which traversed the open grounds, afforded ad- ditional strength to the position, and contributed to rec- ommend the spot to the eye of the American commander. He had reached the field in sufficient season to examine and to choose his ground, to arrange the order of battle, complete his preparations, and give his troops an en- couraGfino: niu:ht's rest. AVith the dawn of the 15th he was Stirling, and full of anxious expectation. He had no reason to doubt that he would be sought by his enemy. The day opened brightly, and with pleasant auspices. The troops were in the best of spirits ; and Greene, at length, congratu lated himself on the prospect of a victory, or, at all events, a struggle, such as should confirm the hope of his soldiers, and answer the expectations of the country. His force of regulars and militia-infantry consisted of four thousand two hundred and forty-three men. Of these, two thousand seven hundred and fifty-three were militia. Of his whole army, something less than two regiments had ever been in battle. It was in this lack of discipline and experience, among the Americans, that the inferiority of the British in numbers was more than equaVzed. The force under Cornwallis had been rated, PREPARATIONS FOR BATTLE. 185 and with every apparent probability, at about three thousand men. It certainly could not have been less than two thousand five hundred, not including cavalry. These were all disciplined troops, accustomed to victory, and doubly urged, at the present time, by their necessi- ties no less than their desires, to seek it with the most desperate earnestness and valor. Early in the morning a detachment under Lee, con- sisting of his legion and a body of riflemen, had been sent out to reconnoitre. They encountered the British advance, under Tarleton, and engaged it with spirit and success. But, feeling that they had to do with the van of an army, they withdrew to the main body, giving due notice of the approaching conflict. Greene at once made his preparations. His officers were soon in station, and his troops arrayed for battle. His army was drawn out in three separate lines, presenting so many successive barriers to the assault of the enemy. The first of these, consisting of the North Carolina militia, one thousand in number, under the command of Generals Eaton and Butler, were placed upon the skirts of a wood at right angles with the road upon which the enemy was ap- proaching. In front of them stretched a long and nar- row cornfield, whose crumbling fences of rail afforded rather a show of protection and shelter than any positive defence. It was supposed that a few rounds might be delivered under their cover before the defenders were compelled to retire under the push of the bayonet. The weapons of this line were mostly rifles. Practised marksmen, from habitual exercise, it wanted but steadi- ness of nerve to make their bullets tell. Unfortunately, they had not only never been in battle, but they had never been subject to the severe mechanism of that drill and discipline which, in military training, accomplishes quite as much. In the road, in advance of this line 186 LIFE OF NATIIANAEI. GREENE. were placed a couple of six-pounders, under Oaplain Singleton. On the right of this line, extending behind the west side of the open fields, oLliquely toward a swamp, was a covering party under Colonel Washing- ton, consisting of Kirkwood's Delawares, eighty in num- ber, and a battalion of two hundred riflemen under Colo- nel Lynch. Washington's cavalry was drawn up in the woods at a little distance. The left of the line was cov- ered by a party under Colonel Lee, consisting of the legion-infantry, and a detachment of ^riflemen under Colonel Campbell, two hundred and fifty in all. Lee's cavalry held a corresponding post on the extreme left, with Washington's on the right. The second line of the Americans was drawn up about three hundred yards behind the first, and under shelter of the woods. This line was formed of Virginia militia, raw troops also, but they were fortunate in being led by officers who had been in the continental army, and possessed considerable experience in the field. The line was commanded by Generals Stevens and Lawson. The former, whose experience in militia was considerable, and who had suffered extreme mortification by their miscon- duct on a previous occasion, adopted astern and sharp rem- edy against their timidity in future. He stationed, in the rear of his brigade, a line of sentinels, picked men upon whom he could rely, whose instructions were to shoot down any individual who broke the ranks. The remedy has usually been found unfailing against the infirmity it seeks to cure. This line, as well as the first, crossed and completely covered the road. The third and last line of the Americans consisted of continentals, under the command of Generals Huger and Williams. It was composed of the brigades of Mary- land and Virginia, the former under Williams, the latter under HuQ:er. This line was stationed about three hun- APPROACH OF THE BRITISH. 187 dred yards in the rear of the second ; the Maryland brigade, on the right, fronting the southwest ; the Vir- ginians, in regard to the peculiar formation of the hill, facing southeastvvardly. Between the right of the one line and the left of the other, the angle was occupied by two pieces of artillery. The Virginia line consisted of two regiments, led by Colonels Greene and Rudford ; the Maryland of two also, under Colonels Ford and Gunby. That of Gunby was the only veteran regi- ment. Two roads, directly in the rear of the Ameri- cans, left avenues for retreat, a necessity which, consid- ering the peculiar objects of General Greene, was not, certainly, a humiliating one. His game was to cripple the enemy by his light troops, if possible, and insure their safety in retreat, by the intervention of his regulars. His third line was, in fact, his only reserve, and it commanded both the roads by which to secure the escape of the fugitives, in the event of disaster. No doubt the ar- rangement was one of many advantages ; but we are half inclined to doubt the policy which exposes a militia wholly inexperienced and untried, to the first shock of battle, when, the judicious intermixture with them of select bodies of regulars, would fortify their courage by example, and sustain them with firmness under pressure. The appearance of the van of the British army, at about 1 o'clock in the day, drew upon them the thunders from Singleton's two pieces in advance. The response was quickly made by the British artillery, from an eminence which commanded the road, over the heads of their own columns. Watching his opportunity in the intervals of the fire, Cornwallis rapidly pushed his sec tions across the defile, displaying them, as they severally passed, according to arrangement, under cover of an interveninof wood. The risrht of the British was com 18S LIFE OF NATUANAEL GREENE. manded by General Leslie, the left by Colonel Webstei The troops forming the line, consisted of the Hessian regiment of Boze, the 71st, the 23d, and the 33d regi- ments, in succession. The first -battalion of the guards was drawn up, as a support to thai wing in the rear of the right. The second, with the grenadiers of the same corps, under Brigadier-General O'Hara, acted as the support of the left. The Yagers and light infantry of the guards, when the line was put in motion, for the assault, attached themselves to the 33d regiment. Tarle- ton's cavalry was held in reserve, and kept pace, under cover of the wood, with the progress of the artillery, which could only advance upon the open road. These arrangements completed, the British pushed on to the attack. The first line of North-Carolinians still wore an aspect of firmness, and their officers began to exult in the hope that, under the partial cover of the fence, they would deliver such a fire as would fatally cripple the enemy in his advance, and possibly effect his utter discomfiture. But, a few moments sufficed to dis- pel these pleasant anticipations. With the advance of the British, a scattering fire was began by the militia, and a single discharge from the whole line may have been delivered. But the inexperienced woodsmen were not equal to the terrible shock of battle, when opened with the earnest pressure of the bayonet. Coming on with a fierce halloo, an army with banners and a most gorgeous array, the British rushed forward in a wild torrent, pouring in their fire as they came, and hastening, with the most determined resolution, to the cj^se business with cold steel. The militia were not equal to the trial. A panic seized upon the line. Those who were fearless, and would have fi)ught, were isolated in the wild disrup- tion of their ranks, and compelled to obey the necessity whidi seemed to hurry them in flight. It was in vain PANIC OP THE MILITIA. 189 that their officers threw themselves across the path of the fugitives, and strove by blows, no less than words, to arrest the torrent. The flood was irresistible. Their fears, superior to self-rebuke or shame, were not to be restrained by arguments or threats. Bewildered by their terrors, they darted through the woods, or sought shelter in the rear of the second line, which opened, with hisses, to receive and shelter them. The British, exulting at this first advantage, rushed forward in pursuit, with triumphant shouts, as if secure of victory. But they were welcomed by crossfires from the flanking parties of Washington and Lee, which silenced their clamors, and, for a moment, cooled their hopes. These flanking parties had witnessed, without ilismay, the sad misconduct of the militia. They kept their ground steadily, and delivered their fire with a rapidity and precision, which taught Cornwallis the necessity of moving with more deliberation to the con- flict. A halt was ordered ; while the regiment of Boze, half-wheeling to the right, and the 33d, with the light infantry and Yagers, to the left, addressed themselves, on each hand, to the business of dispersing the flanking par- ties. Washington and Lee, thus entreated by a superior force, gi-adually yielded before the enemy, delivering steady and sure fires, at every chance, from tree and thicket, and only giving ground under the pressure of the bayonet. In thus retiring without losing their order, these separate bodies were soon brought into a corre- sponding relation with the second line of the Americans, which they had occupied in regard to the first. Meanwhile, the British line, which had again closed for the encounter with the Virginia militia, hurried on, with confidence, to the assault. But the Virginia militia, aninfluenced by the shameful example of the North-Caro- linians, presented an unbroken front to the assailants. 19U LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. Their lire was delivered with equal coolness and pre* cision. Armed, numerously, with the rifle, no single shot was expended idly, but each bullet had its mission for a special mark. Wide gaps were soon opened in the British files by a fire so destructive ; and the faltering and derangement which followed in the British line, un- der this handling, proved, conclusively, that their doom must have been inevitable with better behavior on the part of the American first line. But, the steady valor of the British prevailed, under the tenacious and trained spirit of veteran experience. Animated, by their officers, to the most determined efforts, they continued to press forward. Then it was, that, under the superior influence of the British bayonet, Lawson's brigade, on the Ameri- can right, began to yield. But they gave back slowly, and without losing their coolness or order; the Ameri- can left, and the British right, becoming, respectively, the pivots upon which the two lines appeared to revolve. It was at this moment that AVashington, who commanded the flanking party on the right, following the sweep which had been made by the right of the American line, and faithful to the charge of covering it, came out upon the road. Here, discovering that the retreat of the line was inevitable in the retreat of Lawson's wing, he sep- arated his infantry from it, and made his way to the third or continental line, taking post on the right of the Marylanders. The fight still continued on the left of the second line of the Americans, which, supported by the riflemen of Campbell and the legion of Lee, were enabled to protract the issue, if net to change its character. The disappearance of Washington, with his detach- ment, from the right wing of the Virginia militia, had left Colonel Webster free to pursue his progress in this quarter. Webster was in command of the British lefl. He pushed forward, accordingly, until he came in con- ADMIRABLE CONDUCT OF THE MARYLANDERS. ISl tact with the first regiment of Maryland ers, forming the extreme right of the continental or third line of the Americans. This regiment W3,s, par excellence, the tenth legion of the American army. It was the same which, under Colonel Howard, had crossed bayonets with the J^ritish at Cowpens, compelling them to succumb. It had a fame to keep and cherish, which was not difficult, with its almost veteran experience. Commanded by Colonel Gunby, it was in fit condition to maintain its laurels. It was an evil hour for Webster that he pushe(3 forward in this quarter. His approach occasioned no emotions. The Marylanders were prepared for him, and coolly awaited his approaches. Their fire was with- held until the British were within proper range, and then delivered with an effect so fearful as to produce almost instant discomfiture. Not waiting to note the effect of their fire, but seemingly assured of what it should be, the Marylanders followed up their fire, by descending into the plain and administering the bayonet. The rout which followed was complete. The British left was sent off reeling in confusion ; and, had either of the two squadrons of American cavalry been present, the enemy could never have recovered from the disas- ter. Webster, himself grievously wounded, was yet enabled to draw off his crippled regiment, and, cover- ing them behind a ravine in the cover of the woods, to wait for succor from his general. Greene did not dare to pursue his advantage, having no such confidence in his remaining regiments as would justify him in a close grapple, on the plain, with the whole British arrny, discarding all the advantages of his position, and relying on the struggle hand to hand. It was during the conflict between these two parties, that the artillery of the British, under Lieutenant M'Leod, had made its way along the road, and at 192 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. length reached the fiekl of action, taking a commanding position on a rising ground at the edge of the wood. This was an event of considerable importance in deter- mining the final event. The battle, meanwhile, was still raging fiercely be- tween the left of the Virginia militia, and the right wing of the enemy. Stevens, the brave commander of the former, had been disabled by a severe wound in the thigh ; but this did not dismay his followers. Still using their rifles, with coolness and precision, they were clinging to the wood, as they retired, and making their way slowly to the cover of the continental line. Their rifles, though no match for the Biitish bayonet, were yet speaking audibly, at every second, to the veiy hearts of their assailants ; but they were not now in sufficient force to render necessary the employment of so large a di- vision of the British army as had engaged them, and leav- ing them to the care of the first battalion of the guards, and the reQ:iment of Boze, General Leslie drew off the 23d and 71st, and hastened to follow the footsteps of General O'Hara, who, with the 2(1 battalion, and grena- diers of the guards, had hurried to interpose between Webster and the Marylanders. His march brought him into collision, not with the first regiment of IMaryland- er3, whom, we have seen, under Gunby, encountering the onslaught of Webster with such severe handling, but, with the second regiment from the same state, un- der Colonel Ford. Here the Ameiican general was doomed to a mortifying disappointment. Ford's regi- ment, uninfluenced by the noble example of Gunby's, recoiled from a conflict with the splendid line of British guards that bore down upon them. Their admirable bearing, and brilliant appearance, imposed too heavily upon the apprehensions of the Marylanders, and instead of a brave, manly struggle, they yielded, with scarcely CONFLICT OF STUART AND SMITH. 193 an effort, before their foes, breaking entirely, after a brief trial, and in spite of all the exertions of their offi- cers. This misfortune threw Singleton's two pieces of artillery into the hands of the enemy ; anc they rushed forward, secure now of victory, with shouts that shook the field. But their exultation was premature. They had not noticed the approach of other foes of more stead- iness and spirit than those whom they pursued. Gun- by's approach, with the first Marylanders, had been con- cealed by the copse-wood by which the field was skirted, and equally silent and unsuspected had been the ap- proach of Washington, with the cavalry of his com- mand. In an instant, the British shouts of victory were changed to shrieks of death. Wheeling upon the left, the regiment of Gunby dashed in among the guards, and a terrible struggle, hand to hand, ensued. The contest was for life, no less than for victory. Gunby was wounded, and put hors de comhat, his place being supplied by Howard. Disordered by their own wild pressure upon the recoiling ranks of Ford's Maryland- ers, the British guards no longer maintained any com- pact order, under the charge of Gunby's. Then it was, that, while they struggled pell-mell, in all the mazes of the conflict, Washington's cavalry burst in upon them from the rear, and threatened their total annihila- tion. A series of individual conflicts followed in this struggle, some of which find their places in regular his- tory. One of these may well deserve our attention. The combatants were Colonel Stuart, of the guards, and Captain John Smith, of the Marylanders. Both of these champions were distinguished by nerve and muscle. They had met before, and a personal provo- cation had resulted in the mutual declaration that their next meeting should end in blood. The present was a fitting occasion, and they singlec] ^ach other out, with a 9 194 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. fierce passion for revenge, which made then- totally regardless of the wild confusion and red horrors of the Vielee. Their weai:)ons were at once crossed, with a desperate fury, which promised but one result. A mo- ment decided the conflict. The adroit pass of Stuart's Binallsword was admirably parried by the left hand of the American, while with his right, he drove the edge of his heavy sabre through the head of his enemy, cleaving him to the very spine. The next moment, he himself was brought to the ground, stunned, not slain, by the graze of a pistol-bullet, sent by a devoted follower of the fallen Briton, who was stricken to the heart, almost in the same moment, by the bayonet of an American, who was equally watchful of the safety of his superior. But the duel between these furious combatants did not arrest the business of the field. That went on, with increasing animation and interest. The British guards were overwhelmed in the struggle. Broken and scat- tered, reeling in confusion and dismay, pressed with inveterate rage by Howard and Washington, they were allowed not a moment to recover their organization or their breath. The ciisis of their fate had arrived, and Cornwallis beheld in it the shadow of his own. He hastened to the point of danger, the whole field beneath his eye, covered with his flying guards, and their vindic- tive pursuers. The desperate condition of his fortunes required one of those desperate remedies, at the em- ployment of which quite as much nei-ve as judgment becomes necessary. The stern Briton adopted his reso- lution in an instant. He wheeled from the spot for tlie purpose of putting it in execution, and larrowly escapetl captivity or death, at the hands of "Washington. A petty accident, the falling of his cap, at the momen when our colonel of cavalry was about to dart upon his prey, as he rode off, enabled the British general to SLAUGHTER OF THE GUARDS. 195 escape this danger, of wliich he was, possibly, at tha time, unconscious. His care was in another quarter. The necessity be fore him was a fearful one. His fortunes hung upon a thread. The rout of the guards was irretrievable, and must be followed by the worst consequences, if, in the scattered state of his troops, the fierce onset of the cav- alry under Washington should remain unchecked. He had no forces in reserve. By this time the whole strength of the British army had been more or less engaged in the action. But one dreadful expedient remained to him, and, hurrying to the hill on which M'Leod had posted his artillery, he gave the terrible or- der to repel the progress of the American cavalry, by pouring out torrents of grape upon the field. Mingled in masses upon the plain, were his own troops with the Americans. Every storm of bullets swept necessarily through the ranks of friends and foes. His own guards must feel the storm as heavily as their adversaries. But they were already compromised. No remedy could avail for their safety, and none but this for his own. He gave the orders. Bleeding with previous wounds, O'Hara ex- postulated with his chief: " It is destroying ourselves.'*- His remonstrances were made in vain. " True," was the answer of Cornwallis, " but it is now unavoidable. The evil is a necessary one, which we must endure if we would escape destruction." O'Hara turned away from the cruel spectacle, while the floods of grape tore their way in frequent tempest over the plain. The expedi- ent was fatally successful. It repelled the American cavalry. It rescued the victory from their clutches ; but one half of the splendid battalion of the guards was swept to ruin in the storm. The battle was not yet over. The conflict still con tinned between the parties engaged in the woods. For 196 LIFE OF NATHANAEL fiRF.K.VE. the safety of his detachments in this quarter, Greeno felt the greatest anxiety. The British commander, reso lute on victory as the only source of safety, was newly forming his line, bent upon the renewal of his endeavors. Forming under cover of the brush along the roadside, his operations were greatly concealed from sight; and, pressing too cautiously forward, for the purpose of dis- covery, Greene incurred as great a peril of captivity or death as Cornwallis had done but a little while before. His coolness and presence of mind alone saved him from a shower of musketry. Occasional volleys were still heard from the edges of the wood, with now and then a mutual bellowing from the cannon of the rival forces, posted on separate heights. The regiment of Boze was still kept busy in the woods, with the left of the Ameri- can second line. There the riflemen of Campbell, the infantry of Lee, and the broad-swords of his legion, still maintained the conflict, firing from every cover, and retreating only at the approach of the bayonet. In this kind of warfare the Americans had all the advantage. They could be driven by their enemies, but not far; and the moment the halt was made again, it was only to send forth new volleys of winged bullets, every one of which had its billet. The British, still advancing, were, never- theless, dropj^ing fast, and Cornwallis ordered Tarleton with his dragoons, to the succor of the regiment of Boze. It happened, unfortunately, that Lee's cavalry had been withdrawn, with some other object, from the wing of Campbell's party, when the descent of Tarleton was made. Had they been present, the fortunes of the day might have been made triumphantly secure. Unshel- tered by this arm of the sei-vice, Campbell's rifles were compelled to disappear ir double-quick time, having nothing to oppose to the British broad-sword. This, alone, saved the regiment of Boze, and enabled it tc REVERSE OP THE AMERICANS. 19 recover the British line. With its reappearance, and the disappearance of Lee's corps, for the fate of which hia anxiety was now painfully awakened, Greene felt that the chances of the day were about to go against him. The British troops, though dispirited and greatly thinned, were yet again in line, and presenting a formidable front. To oppose them, the mere numbers of Greene might have been still sufficient ; but how could he rely upon the regiment of continentals which had so shamefully emula- ted the flight of the North Carohna militia, at the very brunt of conflict "? He had too much at stake to peril his troops unnecessarily in a struggle for which no train- ing had yet prepared them. A drawn battle, for all moral purposes, would suffice for his objects. The pol- icy of the Americans counselled delay rather than risk. With every moment of pause, the British army was losing in numbers, health, confidence, and resources ^ Fortunately, Greene had kept his regiment of Virginia continentals in reserve. With these he could draw off Ids troops with safety, the former intei^posing with un broken front, to cover the retreat. A reckless courage, an audacity that would stake all on the hazard of a sin- gle cast of the die, might, with this regiment, sustained by those who still kept the field, have rendered the affair a glorious victory. But so, also, might such audacity have worked the entire ruin of the cause and the com- mander. Such boldness could only be justified by the desperation ot the case, such as Cornwallis felt, and by a perfect confidence in the coolness and steadfastness of the regiments from which the service was expected. Want- ing this confidence, and feeling no such necessity, Greene prudently determined not to renew the engagement. Ho had gained, perhaps, quite as much, or even more, than he had anticipated from the trial of strength, in crippling the enemy, and encouraging his own troops. Both of 198 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. these had resulted from the engagement, in spite of all its disappointments and vicissitudes. The order, accordingly, was given to retreat. The North Carolina and Virginia militia had, by this time, generally gained the rear of the army, and were on their way to the designated place of rendezvous. Colonel Greene, with the Virginia regiment, fresh and entire, was employed to cover the retreat. With the first indications of this movement, the enemy advanced, with two regi- ments and a strong body of cavalry. The firing opened on both sides with great spirit, and was continued for some time with considerable animation. But the Americans were too firm, and the British too much crippled, to make the pursuers eager for the renewal of the conflict. The pursuit was soon arrested, and, bringing up the rear in person, Greene made his first halt for several hours, within three miles of the field of battle. Here he picked up his stragglers, arranged for the care of the wounded, and snatched a momentary rest from fatigue, before resu- ming his march, which he did in a cold and pitiless rain, reaching his encampment at the iron- works of Trouble* eorae creek, about the dawning of the next day CONDITION OF THE AMERICANS. 199 CHAPTER XIV. CJomwallis retreats — Is pursued by Greene — Escapes. — His Condition, and that of the Americans. — Greene's Policy. — Discontinues the Pur- suit of Comwallis — Marches to South CaroHna— Appears before Cam- den — and offers Battle to Lord Rawdon. Thus terminated this long and bloody conflict, the caprices and vicissitudes of which, for a long while, held the issue in suspense. But for the miserable failure of Greene's first line, the victory must have bjeen with the Americans — as it was, nothing but the superior dis- cipline of the British secured it for them. Cornwallis was at the head of two thousand troops, as fine as any in the world. Of Greene's army, not more than five hun- dred had ever seen service. Yet no troops could have behaved better than a certain portion of his force. The habitual training of the British, when made to recoil, ena- bled them quickly to recover, and to form themselves anew for battle. But with Greene's militia the case was other- wise. Defeat was dispersion also. Even the Mary- landers of Ford, though saved from the onset of the guards by the timely interposition of Gunby and Wash- ington, could not again be brought to look the enemy in the face. The steadiness of the infantry of the former, and the cavalry of the latter, could not have been sur- passed ; and the spirit exhibited by both, united the audacity of chivalry with the discipline of the regular soldier. Could Greene liave saved his artillery, the loss of which is not adequately accounted for, he would 200 LIFE OP NATIIANAEL GREENE. probably have had little reason to complain of the lesulta of the conflict. One fourth of the British army had been put hors du combat in the melee. Most of their officers were hurt. COrnwallis and Leslie naiTowly escaped, the former having had two horses shot under him, while, at one moment of the struggle, the sabre of Washington was almost literally brandished over his head. His gallantry deserves every credit, and was such as to prove how vitally important to his safety did he estimate the issues of the day. His loss, in killed, wounded, and missing, was six hundred and thirty-three. Of these, one colonel and four commissioned officers were slain on the field ; Colonel Webster and several captains died of their wounds; the recovery of General O'Hara was, for a long time, doubtful; Tarleton was wounded, and a General Howard, who volunteered in tke engagement, besides twenty other commissioned officers. The Americans were far more fortunate. Their loss did not reach half this number — a result attributable purely, to the superior excellence of the lifle in theii hands, over the musket in the hands of the British. General Huger, at the head of the Virginians, was slightly wounded in the hand ; Major Anderson, an able officer of the 1st Marylanders, was killed ; General Ste- vens was severely wounded ; and about a dozen other officers suffered from wounds also. The greater loss of t'he Americans consisted in the flight of the militia. One half of the North-Carolinians and a large number of the Virginians, when they left the field, continued on their way, long after the danger was over, and retired to their homes. The whole force of Greene, reviewed on the 19th, four days after the battle, amounted to three thou- sand one hundred and fifteen, including every descrip- tion of soldier. The trophies which he left in the hands CONDITION OF CORNWALLIS. 201 of Ills adversary, consisted of his artillery, a couple of baggage-wagons, and a portion of his wounded. It is one of the curious proofs of the doubtful and capri- cious character of the conquest, that he carried off a greater number of prisoners than he lost. The victory certainly lay with the British ; but it was a victory, as was remarked by Fox, in the house of com- mons, like that of PyiThus, which left the conqueror undone: " another such would ruin the British aniiy." Greene, himself, upon a survey of the result, was enabled to make the same estimate. " He has gained his cause," said he, speaking of Cornwallis, *' but is ruined by its cost." The British general, himself, was, probably, not not less satisfied of the justness of this judgment. Re- turning from the fruitless pursuit of the Americans, he was enabled to review his troops and the field of battle. The scene presented a spectacle, in open land and woods, which must have admonished him of the growing peril which hung about his camp. Nearly seven hundred of his best troops had been cut off. There they lay, on every hand, where the rifles of Campbell had dropped them, step by step, as they came — where the fierce charge of Gunby's regiment had swept them down, and where the flashing sabres of Washington had smitten them as with an edge of fire. There, too, covering the broad space before his eyes, were the numerous victims to his own unsparing artillery, when it became neces- sary, in arresting the cavalry of Washington, to sweep, with the same besom of death, the scattered and stag- Qfering: gruards whom he could no lon^-er save. The British general, with a drooping spirit, prepared for the burial of the dead and the care of the wounded. His- tory records, to his honor, that he did not disciiminate between friend and foe in the performance of these mel sncholy duties. Nisfht found him at this gloomy work> ^9* 202 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. and the aspect of the heavens had become gloomier with cloud and rain. The chilling gusts of March swejt the field, laden with sleety showers, that added to the suffer- ings of the wounded, and increased the cares and anxie- ties of those who were burdened with the charge of them. The baggage had not arrived. The soldiers were with- out tents; and, after the dwellings within reach bad received all whom they could shelter, there were still hundreds, even of the wounded, who were exposed to all the riirors of the niofht and season, with no other cover than the clothes they wore. More than fifty of these wretched sufferers had perished ere the dawn. Encumbered with his wounded, with his best officers slain or incapable fi"om wounds, with the moral of his army greatly impaired, surrounded by doubtful and timid friends, or by vindictive and impatient enemies, far from his resources, and equally uncertain of reinforce- ments, the barren victory of Cornwallis was really a dis- aster of the worst description. He put on a face of the utmost confidence, while grief and anxiety were heavy at his heart. His proclamation, issued from his camp at Guilford, set forth, in glowing colors, the brilliancy and importance of his recent victory, even at the moment when he felt that his necessities counselled a retreat. He summoned the loyalists to his standard, and held out terms of j)ardon to the whigs at the very moment when his retrograde movements had begun. He could no longer venture to hunt his enemy. He felt that the fugitive must soon become the hunter. It was impossi- ble to struggle longer against the difficulties that encom- passed him. When he destroyed his baggage, after the affair at Cowpens, it was with the full persuasion that he should be in security in the British camp in Virginia, or in the richest counties in that state. He was now almost as far removed from this pr'jspect as before, and RETREAT OF THE BRITISH. 203 III less condition to attain it. His numbers were reducea one half — his men were barefoot — his stores were ex- nausted — and the enemy was still at hand, threatening an early renewal of the conflict — that enemy whom he had found it impossible to conquer, and whom he could no longer venture to pursue. In a precioitate flight lay his only means of security. On the 18th of March, three days after the battle, he commenced his retreat. His design was covered by every possible artifice. His boastful proclamation was intended to disguise his purpose ; and the better to attain his object, he conveyed his wounded in his wagons and litters, taking for granted, that, with such incumbrances, nobody would suspect his purpose of retreat. But Greene had been too well advised of the condi- tion of the British army, to leave him in doubt as to the necessity before his adversary. The excellent spirits of his own army, oflicers and men — nowise daunted by the issue of the late struggle, but proud of the stand which a portion of them had made, and. anxious to eflace the discredit and reproach which had fallen upon the whole, by the misconduct of those who had faltered — all en- couraged the American general to take the initiate in the future trials of strength with the enemy. With the first intimation, therefore, of the march of the British, Lee was detached to hang upon his rear, and harass his progress. A deficiency of ammunition, under which Greene's army at present labored, alone prevented him from a more decided demonstration with his whole force. The advance of the Americans hastened the move- ments of Cornwallis. He could no longer pursue his march at leisure, encumbered with the litters of his wounded. Seventy of these he left behind, under the protection o-^ a flag; pursuing a progress which was 204 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. desigirecl to keep lils opponent in doubt as to his real destination and purpose, pressing forward across Deep river, in the direction of Salisbury. This route, looking quite as much to a return to South Carolina as to any- other point, might have persuaded any commander, less wary and sagacious than Greene, to take a direct course for Camden, in order to intercept his progress to that place. But, entering into all the calculations of Com- wallis, Greene was prepared to fathom, or to suspect, the real purpose of his adversary. A few hours sufficed to satisfy him of the propriety of his doubts. Recros- sing Deep river, CornwalUs marched down its east bank, leaving it no longer uncertain that Wilmington was the place which he aimed to reach. The light detachments if the Americans hung upon his skirts, while the whole force of the army was pressed forward by a nearer road, which left the British troops but little advantage in point of distance. The contest was now not only one of speed, but one of skill — the former, indeed, depending greatly upon the degree in which the latter should be shown. In this contest, Cornwallis put forth all his strength. Greene pressed forward with all the energy which was possible, in bad roads and inclement weath- er, and, at one moment, when near Buffalo creek, had hopes of bringing on an engagement, under favorable circumstances. But a re-examination of his resources of ammunition, showed such a scanty supply, as greatly to discountenance the desire ; and the British sped for- ward, without farther interruption than could be sug- gested by the harassing vigilance of picked squadrons at their heels. This survey of Greene's resources, result- ing so unproiitably, occasioned some delay in the pursuit, of which Coniwallis took due advantage. Pressing forward his pioneers, he commenced throwing a bridge, at Ramsey's mill, across Deep river, near its confluence ESCAPE OP THE BRiTISH. 2i)6 with the Haw. This indicated an intention to cross at that place, and was calculated to direct the march of the American army, crossing above him, down the op- posite bank. This left Greene in a dilemma. He saw that if he pursued this I'oute, the British, having an alter- native, would cross the Haw, and securely descend or. the east side of the Cape Fear. So well planned, in this proceeding, had been the measures of Cornwallis, tliat there was no method of counteracting them. A movement directly forward, would only force the enemy across his bridge, which, broken down behind him, would leave to the Americans no means of passage, but by fords across the Deep or the Haw, in seeking which, the loss of time must utterly baffle the pursuit. For a moment, Greene was compelled to hesitate in doubt. But twelve miles separated the two aiTnies — the Biitish at Ramsay's mills, the Americans at Rigdon's ford, both on Deep liver. A day elapsed, in which the forces lay in patient watch of one another. But Greene soon reached his conclusion. His only hope lay in a forced march, and coiip de main. He resolved to push forward his light troops, with orders to engage the enemy, if possible, and keep them employed until the army could overtake, and share in the conflict. The movement was made before day on the morning of the 28th. But the British commander was too wary, and was too fully conscious of his peril, to be caught nap- ping. He kept himself well informed of all the move- ments of his adversary, and was soon apprized of the approach of the detachments. His flight was resumed, and he passed the bridge in safety; but so hot was the pursuit, that he had not time to destroy it effectually, to bury his dead, or carry off his beef, which was found hanging in the stalls. The light troops of the Americans wore enabled to cross, and continue the pursuit ; while 200 LIFE OF NATllANAEL GREENE. the army pressed forward to overtake tliem, with au energy and eagerness, under which their sufferings were immense. Many of them, exerting themselves beyond their strength, fainted upon the wayside. No halt was taken for refreshment, but the calls of nature were sus- pended, in an earnest desire to bring the enemy to the fmal issue of the sword. What was their mortification, reaching the mills, to find the prey escaped ! It was then that they broke down utterly — the stifled necessi- ties under which they had toiled, speaking out, despe- rately, in their disappointment. The volunteers and HiiUtia refused to follow any farther. Exhausted with toil, wanting provisions, and with their terms of service long since expired, they demanded their discharge. This was a surprise to their commander ; but it was one which he had no power to resist. He could only en- treat, but unsuccessfully ; their engagement was really at an end. The cares of agriculture were at hand, and their fanns summoned them to the perfoiTnance of du- ties, upon which, indeed, rested the future hope of pi-o- visioning the army. He was compelled to yield to their requisitions, and this necessity was fatal to any hope which he might entertain of overtaking his enemy. Comwallis, meanwhile, had passed into a region abound- ing with loyalists, where his resources improved at every stej^, and in which he could obtain easy and early intelligence of every step taken by the Americans. Greene reluctantly gave up the pursuit. Fixing his quarters, temporarily, at Ramsey's mills, in order to recruit his troops, and make his preparations for future seivice, Greene found his situation quite as mortifying, at this moment, as at any period during the campaign. He v/as now, after the discharge of the militia, numerically inferior to his enemy ; yet he was now in possc-'sion, for the fii'st time, of proofs whicli Greene's policy. 207 showed liow easy it might be, with moderate assistance, to ruin the army of Cornwaliis. But he applied for this assistance in vain. His own army was in a state of ex- treme suffering and prostration. They had scant provis* ions. Lean beef in small quantities, and corn-bread baked in the ashes, were their chief supplies ; and, not unfre- quently, the vulture was robbed of his garbage, by the fierce hunger of the starving soldier. Equally wretched was the condition of the troops in regard to clothing. Shoes there were none ; and their garments were such as remained from long and wearisome marches in wild countries, through pitiless weather. It was covering, perhaps, — but not clothing. That they were cheerful under their privations, was, perhaps, quite as much due to the influence of their commander, who freely shared their sufferings, as of that cause and government by which they seemed to be, almost entirely, disregarded. Having abandoned the farther pursuit of Cornwaliis, as no longer proper or profitable, the natural inquiry of Greene was, in what manner he should now employ his army. Merely to maintain a position of surveillance upon the movements of his enemy, was neither agree- able to his own desires, nor of much promise of advan- tage to the objects which he aimed to effect. To achieve successfully, in conflict with an enemy already in partial possession of the country, it was necessary to dislodge him. This required the exercise of constant energies, and enterprises at once frequent and decisive, by which his attention would be distracted, and his strength worn out, in the harassing toils of a watch and defence, which exhausted his resources without leaving him in security. We have seen, that, on Greene's first assuming the command of the southern army, he fixed his eye upon the numerous posts with which the British had covered 208 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. all the vulnerable and commanding portions of that state. These, in fact, constituted their base of opera- tions. To dispossess them of these, became, naturally, a first 25olicy of the American general; and a series of separate enterprises for this object was meditated, beginning, as we remember, with the attempt to sur- prise Georgetown by Marion — an attempt which was only partially successful. Circumstances now prompted Greene to the determination to renew these attempts and, at once, boldly again to make his way into Souti Carolina. There was much to encourage him in thi> purpose. The partisans of that region had not beet idle, v/hile he was engaged in his protracted trial of skill with Cornwallis. Sumter had been beating up the British quarters on various occasions, had cut off their detachments, obtained numerous smaller successes, and, by his rapidity of movement and continued activity, had given frequent occasion for disquiet to Lord Rawdon, whom Cornwallis had left in command behind him Marion had been equally busy; and Pickens, who had been detached by Greene, with this object, some time before, was busily engaged in recruiting the whig militia for similar uses. The day after the battle of Guilford Colonel Hampton, another of the famous partisans of Carolina, arrived at the camp of the Americans with such tidings as renewed all Greene's anxiety to direct his steps rapidly upon the enemy's garrisons. His de- cision was accordingly taken. His calculations were simple and conclusive. If Cornwallis continued hi? progress to Virginia, his posts in South Carolina wouk' be exposed to ruin, one by one ; and if, on the other hand, he wheeled about to follow the American army.- he would be diverted, necessarily, from the conquest of North Carolina and Virginia, both of which states^ relieved frnro his presence, would be enabled to concen PREPARES TO RETURN TO SOUTH CAROLINA. 20S trate their energies upon the completion of their broken regiments. In any point of view, the resolution to carry back the operations of active v^^arfare into South Carolina, seemed to promise results of far gi-eater benefit than any other proposed plan of future campaign. But, in deciding upon this measure, General Greene incurred the greatest of perils — that of offending public opinion. He was about to depart from the ordinary rules of war- fare. Military men are not often permitted to foregD the pursuit of an enemy, already weakened in conflict, to direct their efforts against a foe, strongly posted, and, as yet, unimpaired for resistance by previous struggle. This, which, in ordinary cases, would seem equally the impulse of temerity and caprice, was, however, in the present instance, dictated by considerations of the pro- foundest policy. Greene's reasons were given at length, at the time when his resolves were taken, in ample letters to Washington, Lafayette, and others. He argued, in addition to what has been already stated, that, by moving south with his troops, he should.be enabled to provide them with the supplies which must else find their way to the enemy; that, whether Cornwallis pursued him or not, North Carolina, at least, — which was para- lyzed by his presence, — would be rescued from his pres- sure ; that the very boldness of his scheme, which seemed startlingly full of dangers, would have a large effect upon the public mind, as it would seem to indicate the possession of resources which were unsuspected by his adversaries ; and that the necessities of the country, and the moods of the people, w^ere such as to justify and render it necessary that some considerable perils should be incurred — something, in short, left to fortune, in the expectation of results which could not accrue from any mere exercise of patience and circumspection. " The manoeuvre will be critical and dangerous," was his Ian 210 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. guage to Washington ;...** but necessity obliges mo to commit myself to chance." " The troops will be exposed to every hardship ; but I shall share it with them." The moment that his determination had been taken, he sent an express to Jefferson, governor of Virginia, to forward fifteen hundred militia. Captain Singleton was despatched to Virginia to procure artillery ; magazines were ordered to be formed on the banks of the Catawba ; the partisan generals of South Carolina were apprized of his designs, and instructed to get the militia under arms for a series of separate enterprises ; and every means was put in exercise to secure, in advance, abundant sup' plies of provisions. The route of the army lay through a country, at once sparsely settled and in the hands of enemies ; and every precaution was necessary against failure and disappointment. All things being ready, the camp at Ramsay's mills was broken up on the 7th of April. The heavy baggage, and all the stores that could be spared from present use, were sent another route, by Salisbury, to the head of the Catawba ; while the araiy, still seeming to press the pursuit of Cornwallis, crossed Deep river, and, for a day, continued the direct route to Wilmington ; then, suddenly taking the first convenient road to the light, he turned the heads of his columns in the direction of Camden, South Carolina. His hope was to surprise this place. He flattered himself, that, preceding all relief from the army of Cornwallis, his march would be unknown to, and unsuspected by. Raw- don. But he was disappointed. The distance which he had to traverse was one hundred and thirty miles. His progress was unavoidably slow. The country was sterile and exhausted, and in the hands of enemies. His every movement was watched and reported. The run- ncyrs of the tories preceded him in his march ; and a GREENE PENETRATES SOUTH CAROLINA. 211 delay of several days at the Pee Dee, in consequence of the want of boats for crossing, enabled Rawdon to receive full advices of the danger, and to provide against it. Greene reached the neighborhood of Camden on the 19th, and found its gamson fully equal to all the strength he could bring to bear against it. Reconnoi- tring it with the view to assault, he was compelled to forego the hopeless enterprise. Camden is situated on a gentle elevation, extending from the swamps along the Wateree river, to Pine-tree creek. Covered, to the south and west, by these streams, it was still farther closed against assault by a chain of redoubts, which guarded it on every open point, while the defences were made complete, by strong lines of stockade in the rear of the redoubts. Without battering cannon, any attempt to subdue it must have been hopeless ; and nothing remained to Greene but to choose such a position as might tempt the enemy from his strong-hold. He took post, accordingly, on a small rising ground, on the A¥axhaw road, within half a mile of the British lines. But, Rawdon manifesting no disquiet at this challenge, and no disposition to accept it, Greene retired, with his army, a mile and a quarter farther, to a place called Hobkirk's hill, where, with his left covered by a difficult morass clothed with woods, and his right approaching an almost impenetrable thicket, he pitched his tents foi the present. 212 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. CHAPTER XV. Cornwallis pursues his Route to Virginia. — The Partisan Warfare in Carolina. — Marion. — Captures Fort Watson. — Greene's Movements. — Rawdon marches out from Camden and gives him Battle. — Battle of Hobkirk's Hill. Cornwallis was greatly sui-prised by the unexpected march of Greene into South CaroHna. The boldness of the proceeding confounded him, and awakened his seri- ous apprehensions for the safety of British power in that state. His resolves seem to have been troubled by seri- hus perplexities. At first, he meditated to follow his adversary ; and the scheme was full of plausibilities, which proposed to place the anny of Greene between his own and that of Rawdon. From this, indeed, lay the greatest danger of the American general. But Cornwal- lis paused so long before reaching his conclusion, that it became evident that Greene was quite too far on his route to be overtaken. Rawdon must have either tri- umphed, or succumbed to his opponent, before he could possibly arrive to share in the struggle. To proceed to Hillsborough, with the hope of drawing off the i-egards of Greene, to that point, from South Carolina, was an- other suggestion, which seemed to betray the perplexi- ties of the British commander, occasioned by the move- ments of the Americans. On either side were doubt and difficulty ; doubts which no decision seemed likely to overcome, and difficulties which appeared to increase the more he examined them. Greene's wisdom, in iho adoption of his course, was never more strikingly shown PARTISAN WARFARE IN CAROLINA. 213 than in the trouble and anxiety which it occasioned to hi'S enemy. The situation of Comwalhs's aniiy was such as materially to interfere with his enterprises. It had been terribly crippled by the affair at Guilford, the subsequent harassing pursuit, and the exhausting march- es. For three weeks after his arrival at Wilmington, he was employed in recruiting the strength of his shattered regiments ; and when he did put his army in motion, it was to commence the invasion of Virginia, where, fol- lowing the finger of his fate, he was destined, at York- town, to yield to other hands the laurels, to which, in some degree, the commander of the southern army might have urged his claim. Leaving him to his fate, which no longer concerns our progress, we return now to the field of former and future struggle in South Carolina. In that state, ^at no period, had domestic opposition to the invader been entirely at an end. Crushed for the moment, her partisans simply held themselves aloof in shadow, in reserve for the moment when a i"easonable prospect of success might attend the effort at open struggle. The immerous small enterprises which were undertaken by Marion and Sumter, with the many brave officers who followed in their commands, durinof the various progi'esses, already recorded, of the main army, will not require our enumeration or description here. Enough, that their effect was siich as to carry dis- may everywhere among the settlements of the loyalists. Marion, in particular, succeeded for a time m breaking up, almost entirely, the communications between Charles- ton and the anny under Rawdon, and by intercepting detachments and supplies for the several posts across the country, reduced them to the most serious straits and exigencies. Greene was by no means insensible to these ser\'ices, and in approaching South Carolina, a second v^me, he despatched Colonel Lee, with three hundred 214 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. men, to co-operate with Marion, who was at this time lying, perdu, in consequence of an active pursuit, which Colonel Watson, with a select and superior force had been required by Rawdon to institute after the wary partisan, Lee narrowly escaped Watson, who might easily have prevented his junction with Marion. This, however, was effected successfully, and the partisan gen- eral lost no time in proceeding to action. His first demonstration was af]fainst Fort Watson, a strong stock- ade fort, raised on an ancient mound near the Santee. This post was captured, after a short defence. From this service, Marion turned to that of intercepting the march of his former pursuer, Colonel Watson, who was supposed to be making his way with all speed to the assistance of Ilawdon at Camden. It was in aiming at this object, throwing himself across the path of Watson, and pressing on, himself, to the neighborhood of Camden, that Marion contributed to give a new impulse and new activity to the proceedings of Lord Rawdon. The Brit- ish general was growing uneasy at the augmentation of the American forces ; and determined to take the risks of a battle, before they should have been so far increased as to put the issue beyond all doubt. He was unaware that Greene had been strengthened by a timely arrival of two pieces of artillery, one of which, as soon as received, had been sent to Marion, while two other pieces, sent from Virginia, reached the camp of the Americans, on the vi3ry day when the British general marched out to give them battle. Prior to this, some movements which Greene had made, on the 22d of April, which Rawdon very naturally construed into an attempt on the part of the American general to intercept the approach of Wat- son with his reinforcements, contributed to his uneasi- ness, and aided in inducing the determination to precipi- tate the issue. For this, Greene was in perfect readi- GREENE ATTACKED BY LORD AWDON. 215 ness. It was an event which he had too eagerly sought, and too earnestly desired, not to have provided against with all necessary precautions. The army was encamped in order of battle. They were held in constant expecta- tion of attack. Patrols ranged all the approaches, pene- trating as near to the town as the forest cover would permit, and the front of the camp was guarded by double pickets, against all the points from which danger was likely to approach. A becoming vigilance guarded against all danger of surprise. On the morning of the 25tli of April, the day which Lord Rawdon had selected for the attack, a convoy much needed and long expected, bringing supplies of artillery and provisions, made its appearance in the American camp. The troops were at breakfast, with a keen relish for the creature comforts so seasonably brought, and Greene, with his aids was enjoying the unwonted lux- ury of a cup of coffee, when the sound of fire-arms, in the distance, announced the approach of the enemy. The men, many of them, were still busy in the more grateful occupation of dressing their food ; while some washed their clothes at a neighboring rivulet. With the alarm, and the roll of the drums which followed, they were instantly in arms, and but a few moments sufficed to place them in array for battle. They were in number nearly or quite equal to the force of the enemy, and they exhibited a cheerful steadiness which gave to their com- mander the most grateful anticipations of the issue. The whole regular infantry of the Americans, fit for duty at this moment, was eight hundred and forty-three. The cavalry under Washington numbered but fifty-six men who were mounted. The artillery, commanded by Colonel Harrison, nominally a regiment, did not comprise men en-ough to fight three pieces ; and the militia force was but two hundred and fifty. Portions of the American PIG LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. force detached, left the strength of Greene very nearly that of his adversary. That of the British has been esti- mated at nine hundred men. These were chiefly Amer- icans, and mostly first-rate marksmen. Greene's regulars had seen service also. He had w^ith him the favorite JMaryland regiment of Gunby, which had behaved so gal- lantly at Guilford; others of his troops had seen service in the same field ; and all of them wore such an aspect of coolness as to leave him in no apprehension of the result. Still, he omitted none of his precautions. His baggage was despatched to the rear, a distance of several miles, and nothing was left to hazard, which the exigencies of battle did not make it necessary to expose. Hobkirk's hill is a narrow and slight elevation — a sandy ridge — which separates the head springs of two small rivulets. The encampment of Greene occupied this ridge. By his order of battle, the left wing rested upon the swamp of Pine-tree creek; the right extended into the woods, and rested, in mWit^ry parlance, in air, — somewhat protected by the nature of the ground, and the brush and felled timber which was spread in front. The high-road to Camden ran through the centre of the line, dividing the two wings, and was covered by the artillery, which had been received just in season to be wheeled into position at the enemy's approach. Igno- rant of this timely arrival, and assuming Greene to be wholly without artillery, Rawdon brought none — his forbearance to do so enabling him to advance by a route on which his cannon could not operate. The bet ter to take advantage of this ignorance, on the part of the enemy, Greene masked his pieces by closing the two centre regiments 'of his line upon the road. His whole force enabled him to fonn a single line only. The two Virginia regiments under General Huger, occupied the right of the road ; the two Maryland, under Colonel Wil- BATTLE OF HOBKIRK*S HILL. 217 Hams, the left. The first Virginia, commanded by Colo- nel Campbell, was on the right of the whole ; the second Maryland, under Lieutenant-Colonel Ford, on the left. The second Virginia, under Lieutenant-Colonel Hawes, and the first Maryland, under Colonel Gunby, constitu- ted the centre. Colonel Washington and the small mili- tia force, about two hundred and fifty in number, under Colonel Reid, were held in the rear, at the foot of the hill, forming a second line or reserve. Lord Rawdon's line was composed of the 63d regi- ment on the right, the New York volunteers in the centre, and the king's American regiment on the left. The right was supported by the volunteers of Ireland, the left by a detachment under Captain Robinson ; a South Carolina regiment was posted with the cavalry, foiTning, with these, nearly one half of his troops, which, accord- ingly, presented a very narrow front. Rawdon had taken a hint from the Americans, and had employed flanking parties of loyalists, as riflemen, moving abreast of his wing among the trees. This judicious airange- raent served greatly toward giving him the advantage of the day. His advance was by a route which ren- dered it impossible to announce his approach, except by the fire of the videttes. These were nearly a mile dis- tant from the encampment. The picket guards, under Morgan and Benson, behaved with great courage and coolness, gathering in the videttes, retiring deliberately, and forming in good order under Captain Kirkwood, who was posted, with the remnant of the Delawares, in an advanced position on the right. These and the ad- vanced parties maintained the contest with an obstinacy that afforded ample time to the American army, and a beautiful example, as they retired, of deliberate and un- shaken valor. The auspices seemed highly encouraging to Greene, as the British army came in sight; having 10 218 LIFE OF NATIIANABL GREENE. forced their way, step by step, through the thickets into the open space, where the Americans were c&imly awaiting their approach. Their appearance was the signal for the unmasking and opening of the American artillery. The effect may well be imagined of such a surpiise upon them. Showers of grape among their ranks, when they had been taught to believe that Greene was wholly without artillery, pro- duced instantaneous results of confusion and dismay. At this moment, struck with the extreme narrowness of the British front, Greene seized the instant of their greatest confusion, to give orders for a charge. To close upon their flanks with his regiments on the right and left, and cut off the fragments of the broken column, seemed to require but a single order: "Let the cavalry make for their rear — Colonel Campbell wheel upon their left. Ford upon their right — and the whole centre charge with trailed ann^s." Such was the prompt com- mand delivered to his attendants, in what seemed the very moment for its execution. His aids flew to convey it to the proper captains. The roll of the drum announced their tenor. The infantry stretched forward right and left ; and the cavalry of Washington disappeared among the trees, making the necessary circuit which would bring them into the British rear. For a moment, nothing could have been more auspi- cious to the hopes of the Americans. Their fire had shown itself superior to that of the enemy. The artil- lery had done its work ; and the ranks which had suf- fered from its terrific discharges, had failed to recover from their panic. The regiments under Campbell and Ford started forward, under an impetus at once swift and steady; and the manoeuvre, right and left, upon the flanks of the enemy, seemed to promise the most con- clusive finish to the grateful beginnings of the day. A REVERSES OF THE FIELD. ?19 feeble and ineifective fire from tlie flanking companies of the British, served rather to stimulate, than to dis- courage, their assailants ; and nothing remained to pre- vent the entire success of the Americans, but one of those capricious vv^hirls of fortune, vv^hich sometimes lay the best plans, and the fairest prospects, prostrate in the dust. Greene had no ordinary opponent in Rav^don. His steady eye, deliberate and stern resolve, and ready resources, made him a formidable adversary. He, too, beheld the danger which aw^aited him, and of which the American general had taken such instant advantage. He saw the force by which his flanks were threatened, and, with equal promptness, he ordered the protrusion of the supporting columns of his army. In an instant, the Americans were outflanked, their wings enfiladed, their rear threatened, and they themselves exposed to the very same peril in which they had calculated to take their enemy. A momentary recoil followed in the American regiments. With equal discipline to that of the enemy, the result must have been otherwise. But the firing of the British drew the fire of the American centre when their orders had been to reserve it. This centre was composed of the very flower of the army, — . one of its two regiments being that of Gunby, or the 1st Maryland, whose conduct at Guilford had been so conspicuous for its bravery. Firing against orders, was one proof of confusion, which was increased by the fall of Captain Beatty, of the right company of the regiment, who was much beloved, and who was stricken down by a bullet that pierced his heart. His fall checked the progress of his command. The halt influenced the other companies. It became a panic ; it spread from right to left, from front to rear; and, finally, produced the recoil of the whole regiment. Unhapijily, while Williams, 220 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. Gunby, and Howard, were exhausting themselves in the most earnest efforts to restore firmness and consistency, Colonel Ford fell, mortally wounded, while gallantly leading the other Maryland regiment on the American left. The death of their leader, and the halt of Gunby's veteran command, determined their career. They re- coiled also. An unhappy error of Gunby, who hoped to recover his first line by halting it, instead of boldly pushing forward the second to its support, was easily mistaken for an order to retreat. A retreat it became, accordingly — and one, which all efforts soon proved fruitless to prevent or to repair. Greene, at this period of disaster, was on the extreme right, leading on Campbell's regiment in person. Called away by the panic in the centre, he in vain labored to restore order amid the confusion which prevailed, and to bring the panic-stricken soldiers, once more, to face the enemy. His voice and presence were not without effect. A brief halt was obtained ; but, by this time, they had reached the opposite foot of the hill, and he was recalled to the field by the exulting shouts of the British. Galloping back to the scene, where the action still continued, Greene was enabled, at a glance, to per- ceive the whole extent of his misfortune. The regiment of Hawes was that only which remained entire. By the advance of this regiment, and the retreat of the other centre regiment, the artillery was left, uncovered, upon the summit of the hill. The field was lost, and the danger was that the artillery would be lost also. Greene perceived its peril and his own. He was on one of the most conspicuous stations of the hill, with showers of bullets continually flying around him ; but he gave his orders with a degree of coolness and promptness, which readily communicated itself to his followers. His only hope was, to draw off the right and left regiments from BATTLE OP HOBKIRK's HtLL. 221 the now unequal struggle, and form them on the regi- ment of Gunby, which had now rallied ; while Hawes, with the 2d Virginia, should cover the retrograde move- ment. The order was given and well executed. Hawes's regiment retired firing and fighting, and with so firm a front, as, in the issue, left to the American commander a choice, whether to renew the conflict, or effect a regu lar and orderly retreat. But it threatened to be at the price of the artillery. For the safety of liis cannon, Greene had ordered to the spot a select corps, of forty- five men, under Captain Smith, the same officer whose duel with Colonel Stuart, of the guards, formed so con- spicuous an incident in the battle of Guilford. But, before Smith could reach the spot, the enemy, with loud shouts, was making his way up the hill ; and Captain Coffin, at the head of the British cavalry, was darting forth from his cover in the woods, to join in the pursuit. The American matrosses were already quitting the drag- ropes, when Greene galloped up alone — his aids being all engaged in conveying his orders — and, throwing himself from his horse, with his own hands seizing upon the ropes, set an example of perseverance and resolu- tion, which the most timid found it impossible to resist. Smith's corps now made its appearance, and his men, their muskets in one hand, applied the other to the ropes, and made their way along the hill with the artil lery. But the approach of Coffin's cavalry arrested this progress. Then it was that, forming in the rear of the artillery. Smith's little band encountered the charge of their enemy, pouring into the advancing cavalry a fire so destructive as to compel their flight. Again and again, however, did they return to the charge, and again were they foiled and driven back by the deliberate aim and steady nerve of this little squad, who, in the inter- vals, still pulled the ropes of the artillery, only throwing 222 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. them aside when it became necessary to form and receive the charge of cavahy. But this game could not be con- tinued 3ng. The British infantry began to arrive. Their marksmen were scatterino: themselves amonor the trees, and their dropping fire began to thin Smith's com- pany. His forty-five were soon reduced to fourteen. He himself was badly wounded ; and, though he held his ground with unflagging resolution, it was evident that, but for timely succor, he must be lost. Unhappily, before this succor could arrive, an irregular fire was drawn, by some accident, from his little squadron, and Coffin, with his cavalry, succeeded in forcing his ranks. Every man was slain or taken. The artillery now seemed lost. The batmen had run the limbers into the woods, cut the horses out, and made off* upon them. It was at this moment that Colonel Washington charged in upon the road, and put an end to the contest. This officer had, unhappily, burdened himself with prisoners. He had taken more than two hundred ; his humanity revolting at those summary processes by which Tarleton would have escaped the encumbrance. Each of his troopers bore his captive behind him, when the disaster of the army rendered necessary the final charge which extricated the artillery. Flinging off" his prisoners for the onset, Washington drove the British cavalry up the hill, and checked their farther pursuit of the retiring regi- ments. The artillery was carried off* in safety, and Greene, without farther molestation, continued the retreat. Two miles from the field of battle, he halted to col- lect his stragglers, renewing his march in the afternoon, and encamping for the night on Saunder's creek. Here he remained until the 25th, not without the hope that Rawdon, encouraged by his success, would attempt to renew the battle. But the enemy did not venture to MORTIFICATION OF GREENE. 223 repeat the experiment, and it is a curious fact, that by a stratagem of Colonel Washington, the field of battle really remained in his possession. Rawdon, with the retreat of Greene, had taken up the line of march for Camden, leaving Coffin with his cavalry and a detach- ment of mounted infantry, on the groulid. Advised of this arrangement, Washington placed his cavalry in a thicket on the roadside, having pushed forward a small party, with instructions to suffer themselves to be seen by Coffin's troops, and then, by flight and a show of panic, to beguile them into pursuit. The bait was taken, and the entire troop of Coffin darted headlong in the chase. Brought within the snare, Washington's cavalry dashed out upon them, and the whole party were either cut to pieces, or compelled to disperse for safety. Grateful as he was for this success, the mortification of Greene, at the issue of the combat, was almost wholly without consolation. The cup of victory had been snatched from his lips while the draught was most grateful and ready for the taste. He had made the most skilful disposition of his troops ; he had omitted no pre- cautions ; he had placed in the post of danger the sol- diers whom he had reason to suppose the most assured and steady ; and fortune had pronounced against all his plans and all his calculations. The victory was already in his grasp. The effect of his artillery had produced consternation in the ranks of the enemy — they were already faltei ing, and the cool obedience to his orders, as shown by the flanking regiments, had only to be sus- tained by the steady advance of the centre with the bay- onet, and the British, from wing to wing, must have been swept from the field. The fall of Camden must have followed, and this must have brought with it, as a necessary consequence, the rapid surrender of all the British posts from the mountains to the seaboard. Bit 224 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. terly did Greene reflect upon the inauspicious fortune which had so frequently interposed to snatch the cup of hope from his lips to replace it by the cup of trembling ! His troops had not behaved badly. They had fought, on the whole, with great spirit. A portion of them had shown the tenacious courage of veterans, holding on to the foe with a bulldoo^ resolution which ^ave the most flattering assurances of success. It was the unhappy error of Gunby, whose order to his first line to halt, when he saw them faltering, was unwise and unmilitary. " Gunby," says Greene, in a letter, " was the sole cause of the defeat. I found him much more blameable after- ward, than I represented him in my public letters." A court of inquiry pronounced upon his conduct. They approved equally his courage and activity. His zeal and spirit were beyond alltcavil. They censured the order which he had given to his regiment, but as an eiTor of judgment only, and from which flowed all the evil consequences of the day. The battle had been suf- ficiently bloody for the number of troops engaged, and the loss of the opposing armies was nearly equal. ** The enemy," according to Greene, " had more than one third of their whole force engaged, either killed or wounded ; and we had not less than one quarter." If the Ameri- cans lost the victory, the barren honors of the field were all that his success secured for Rawdon. RESULTS OF THE CONFLICT. 225 CHAPTER XVI. Ra'wdon attempts the Camp of Greene. — Evacuates and destroys Cam- den. — Capture of Fort Motte and other Posts by the Partisans.— Rawdon at Monk's Corner. — Marion takes Georgetown — Pickens Augusta.— Greene besieges Ninety-Six — Attempts to storm it, and is defeated with Loss. The event of the battle of Hobkirk's hill, though unfa- vorable to the Americans, did not materially change the situation of the parties. Any successes of the British vv^hich failed to destroy th^r adversaries, or drive them out of the state, — any advantage, falling short of a complete victory, — would fail in effecting for them any advantageous change in their situation. The army of Greene was chiefly important to the southern states, at this juncture, as it afforded a countenance to the whig population, and, by keeping the foreign troops of the enemy in constant anxiety and expectation, gave an opportunity to the native partisan leaders, to cope with the British detachments and their tory allies. There was nothing, therefore, beyond the natural mortification of defeat, in the recent battle, to discourage the hopes, or compel a change in the plans, of the American gen- eral. On the other hand, there was much to qualify the satisfaction which Rawdon felt in his victory. The spirit of his troops, his own merits and good fortune, had brought him success ; but it had been dearly paid for, and it was incomplete. His strength had been lessened in the struggle, while that of his adversary ap peared undiminished. JJt. had been compelled to i'etir« 10* 226 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. within his works at Camden, aiM the Americans still gathered in his neighborhood. They had been driven, but not out of sio^ht; and he was in no condition to renew the attempt at their destruction or expulsion — not, certainly, with his present force, encumbered with wounded, nor until the arrival of his reinforcements un- der Watson. The fate of this command was neces- sarily, a subject of the greatest anxiety. To prevent the junction of the force under Watson — estimated at six hundred men, with four field-pieces — with that of Rawdon, was the first subject of considera- tion with Greene. Marion and Lee were employed to cover the intervening country, and arrest his march, should he make for Camden. The last intelligence re- ported him to be still in Georgetown, and inactive ; and Greene had no difiiculty in persuading himself, that, with the vigilant eyes of Sumter, Marion, and Lee, upon his movements, it would be impossible for him to make his way to the stronghold of Rawdon. But the troops under our partisans, however swift and vigilant, were not sufficiently numerous to compass such an extent of country, so as to guard equally all its avenues ; and Watson had large merits of his own as a partisan, which his own and the necessities of his superior compelled him to put in active requisition. With the co-operation of Major M' Arthur, an intelligent and adroit captain of cavalry, he succeeded in masking his real movements, and eluding the vigilance of his enemies. They had attempted too much with their small commands, and Watson succeeded in making his way into Camden. The junction of this force with that already in the garrison at Camden, by increasing the strength of Raw don very much beyond that of Greene, rendered the situation of the latter somewhat critical. In connexion with rumors of the approach of Cornwallis from Vii^ CONDITION OF GREENe's FORCES. 227 glnia, it compelled him to exercise all his vigilance with regard to his own safety. He foresaw that Rawdon's increase of strength would naturally prompt him to resume active operations in the field, and a proper reflection taught him to look for the first blow from the enemy. His first duty was to evade the conflict, to which he was still unequal ; and, accordingly, on receiv- ing the tidings of Watson's good fortune, he set his army in motion to increase the space that separated him from Rawdon. Retiring to a strong position on the far- ther side of Colonel's creek, he drew up his army in order of battle, and awaited his enemy. Rawdon w^as not long in making his appearance. He dro/e in the American pickets, reconnoitred their po- sition, and, finding it too strong to be forced he drew off* his army, and returned once more to Camden. This respectful behavior carried w^ith it few consolations to the mind of Greene. His condition, and that of the country, can be shown in no more forcible language than that of Colonel Davie. " This evening," says he — the 9th of May, the day after Rawdon's demonstration — "the general sent for me earlier than usual. I found the map on the table, and he introduced the business of the night with the following striking observation : * You see that we must again resume the partisan war. Rawdon has now a decided superiority of force. He has pushed us to a sufficient distance to leave him free to act on any object within his reach. He will strike at Lee and Marion, reinforce himself by all the troops that can be spared from the several garrisons, and push me back to the mountains. . . . You observe our dangerous and critical situation. The regular troops are now re- duced to a handful, and I am without militia to perform the convoy or detachment service, or any prospect of receiving any reinforcement. . . . North Carolina, dis- 228 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. pirited by the loss of lier regular troops in Charleston, stunned into a kind of stupor by the defeat of General Gates, and held in check by Major Craig and the loyal- ists, makes no effort of any kind. Congress seems to have lost sight of the southern states, and to have aban- doned them to their fate ; so much so, that I am even as much distressed for ammunition as for men. We must always calculate on the maxim, that your enemy will do what he ought to do. We will dispute every inch of ground in the best manner we can ; but Rawdon will push me back to the mountains. Lord Cornwallis will establish a chain of posts along James river ; and the southern states, thus cut off, will die like tlie tail of a snake." These were melancholy forebodings. The mind of Greene, naturally cheerful and elastic, was overborne, temporarily, by the pressure of defeat and the grief of hopes deferred. But, however gloomy, he did not yield to despondency. The native hue of resolution did not abandon his heart. Nor was the case so bad as his melancholy mood had painted it. He had been driven rather than defeated, and his disappointments had never been coupled with any real occasion for the exultation of the enemy. His great prudence had served, in almost every instance, to save him from material injury. His recuperative faculties were great, and there were cir- cumstances, in the progress of the struggle, that were full of future promise to the cause. The increase of Rawdon's force at Camden did not imply anything but a temporary gain. It gave him a momentary advantage over his enemy, but was not adequate to the necessities which grew around him. His chain of posts, already broken by the loss of Fort Watson, was still farther threatened by the active partisans of Carolina. Marion was even now besieging Fort Motte, while Sumter an(3 INCREASE OF PARTISANS. 229 Pickens were preparing for the investment of Granby Augusta, and Orangeburg. These, unless with timely succor from the main army, must soon fall into the hands of the Americans ; and, thus threatened with isolation, with the several detached parties of tbe native militia assembled in co-operation with Greene's army around Camden, that garrison must succumb also. The pros- pect was scarcely more grateful to Rawdon than to Greene ; and a progress that we have forborne to touch upon, had contributed to awaken the most lively appre- hensions on the part of the British and their tory allies. This had arisen in consequence of the unexpected gi'owth and appearance of new bands of whig partisans in every part of the state. In addition to those which followed Sumter, Marion, and Pickens, they were every- where rising in proof of a revival of the revolutionary spirit. The career of Major Harden had exercised a highly important influence in the lower country. De- tached by Marion with seventy select men, well mounted, he had crossed the enemy's line of communication ; and, penetrating the country southwest from Charleston, he had roused a spirit of hope and resistance, which was full of the most beneficial results. Rapid in move- ment, appearing unexpectedly in the settlements, he had taken the enemy by surprise everywhere, and rendered himself the terror of the loyalists of that region. His force gathered with its progress. His seventy grew to hundreds; and, after scourging summarily the disaf- fected alonor the banks of the Savannah, in Georgia as well as South Carolina, — mocking all plans to entrap, and all efforts to subdue or overtake him, — he darted upward in season to unite wuth Pickens, then operating against Augusta. This was but one instance of many similar progresses which were calculated to encourage the hopes of the 830 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. Americans, and alarm the British general with regard to the growing dangers of his fortune. Rawdon felt too surely that his successes had been illusory. They could not suffice to lessen the perils of his situation. His onl} hope would be to beguile his enemy into a pitched bat- tle ; but his recent attempt to do so, satisfied him that his antagonist was quite too wary to incur any unneces- sary perils, in a game which circumspection must secure. In this lay his only hope, and it was one which the character of Greene forbade him to indulge. Denied this hope, he felt, momently increasing, the apprehension of being cut off from the seaboard. It was now known that no help was to be expected from Cornwallis, whose march to Virginia was beyond dispute ; and, with this knowledge in the American camp, Greene felt fully as- sured of the course of his opponent, in consequence of a just appreciation of the critical exigency of his situation. A single day altered the aspect of his fortunes, and his own. We have, again, the testimony of General Davie : " I employed the whole night in writing, until an orderly- sergeant summoned me to headquarters, about daylight. On entering the general's tent, I soon perceived some im- portant change had taken place. * I have sent for you,' said he, with a countenance expressing the most lively pleasure, * to inform you that Lord Rawdon is preparing to evacuate Camden. That place was the key of the enemy's line of posts. They will now all fall, or be evacuated. All will now go well." The orders of Rawdon had already gone forth for the abandonment of Ninety-Six. Cruger, who commanded at that place, was to remove his command to Augusta, which was threatened by Pickens. Rawdon, himself* meditated, by liis own march, to save Fort Motte, and, possibly, the farther posts of Orangeburg and Granby. At all events, the British general was preparing to yield RAWDON EVACUATES AND DESTROYS CAMDEN. 231 before the army which his increase of strength had not enabled him to subdue. The departure, hke the ap- proach, of the British, was usually marked by desolation, Camden was given to the flames, and left in ruins. Had the militia promised from Virginia been sent to Greene in season, the British general would, in all probability, have left Camden as a prisoner, rather than a destroyer. He had not moved a moment too soon. The garrison was already straitened for provisions ; and the arrival of the Virginia militia, or the co-operation of the severai commands of Sumter, Marion, Pickens, and Lee, after the fall of the several posts against which they operated, must have had but one issue in his overthrow. Rawdon's movement was not in season for the ^-elief of Fort Motte. It had already fallen into the hands of Marion. The posts at Orangeburg and Granby had also been surrendered to Sumter and Lee, before he could approach them, and his own march was watched by Marion's parties. He pursued the route toward Charleston. Greene had also put his army in motion, in order to cover the detachments of Marion and Lee, which he supposed still engaged -in the leaguer of Fort Motte. Sumter, whose impetuosity and enterprise were ever the most striking elements in his mihtary character, now strenuously urged upon Greene the plan of uniting with Lee and Marion, and making an attempt upon the army of Rawdon. But the American general preferred the safe game to the perilous one, however brilliant; and the conquest of the posts of the interior, presented themselves to his mind as the most legitimate object, Rawdon, meanwhile, made his way forward, without interruption, until he reached Monk's coraer, where, foi the time, he established himself, leaving the country all above him in the hands of the Americans, with the nvception of the posts at Ninety-Six, Augusta, and its ^^ i LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENB- neighborhoods. The latter, pressed by Pickens and Lee, were soon yielded to the skill and courage of the assailants, though not without a fierce and bloody resist- ance. The capture of Forts Grierson and Cornwallis was distinguished by one of those instances of sudden and terrible retribution, which conferred a character, so personal and vindictive, on the warfare in South Caro- lina. Colonel Grierson had become, with other obnox ious enemies, particularly odious to the Americans b}' his savage barbarities. It was while Pickens was absent from the camp, that a person unknown — disguised, per- haps, sufficiently to escape identification — dashed on horseback into the house where Grierson was kept, and, without dismounting, shot him dead, wheeling about and escaping before he could be arrested. The inci- dent reminds us of one in Scott's poem of Rokeby, where the outlawed Bertram rides into the church, amid the assembled cono^refjation, and shoots down his victim at the foot of the altar. So obnoxious had the prisoners, taken on this occasion, become to the major- ity of the militia of Pickens's command, in consequence of their monstrous and frequent atrocities, that the lives of others were attempted, and their commander was compelled to send them to Greene at Ninety-Six, in order to protect them from the unsparing revenges of the families they had outraged by their crimes. Greene, meanwhile, almost for the first time with an Of)en field before him, — his apprehensions of Rawdon at rest for the moment, — pressed forward, with all dili- gence, for the purpose of investing Ninety-Six, The task of holding Rawdon in check, and confining him to the neighborhood of the sea, was confided to Maiion and Sumter. In the execution of this duty, they closed upon the British general, until he founi it necessary to fence himself in with a new chain of fortified places, THE POST AT NINETY-SIX. 233 extending from Georgetown, by Monk's comer, Dor- chester, and other points, to Coosawhatchie. But the partisans, daily becoming bolder, did not hesitate to dash at intervals within the limits of this cordon, and to ruffle the dovecotes even within hail of Charleston. Marion, strengthened sufficiently to leave a strong force ofvolun teers for the protection of the country along the Santee, directed his attention to Georgetown, which he took, expelling the garrison and demolishing the works. His lieutenant, Horry, had succeeded in silencing and sub- duing the loyalists along the Pee Dee ; and, in the activity of the several parties under these commanders, Rawdon soon found himself greatly straitened in his resources, and threatened in his securities. They were liot in sufficient strength for any open demonstration in his neighborhood ; but they traversed the country almost beneath his eyes, sweeping off the herds, and cutting oft his foragers. Thus watched, pursued, and environed by the most sleepless and restless foes, Rawdon was compelled to gnash his teeth in inactivity, while Greene was making his approaches to the important and strong post of Ninety-Six. The siege of this place constituted one of the most stubborn and animated contests of the campaign. It was a position of great strength, well fortified, and with a numerous garrison. Greene, soon after reconnoitring it, expressed his apprehensions of failure. " The fortifi- cations are so strong, the garrison so large and so well furnished, that our success is doubtful." It was held by Colonel Cruger, an American loyalist of skill and cour age ; and no pains, that zeal and industry could suggest or employ, were spared in preparing for the leaguer Numerous slaves were employed to relieve the garrison from laborious services ; while abundant supplies of provisions precluded all hope of starving them into sub 234 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. mission. Originally a stockade, raised by the first in habitants as a barrier to Indian incursion, the post of Ninety-Six, or Cambridge, became the site of a village bearing the latter name. Lying a few miles to the south of the Saluda, and less than forty from the Savan- nah river, it constituted an important position for the control and keeping of a large and exposed frontier The name of Ninety-Six was derived from the distance at which it stood from Fort Prince George, another post which had been planted among the Cherokee towns along the Keowee. The spot was otherwise distin- guished as the scene of the first conflicts in the southern, and perhaps in the revolutionary war. At this place, in 1775, commenced that dreadful civil war between the patriots and loyalists, which, afterward, desolated the country. Many of the present defenders of Ninety-Six, under Cruger, were natives, who had distinguished them- selves by their ferocity, and who now fought with halters about their necks. That they should fight desperately and well, it is easy to conjecture. The simple works of defence which originally cov- ered the spot, were strengthened by others of superior character, as soon as Cornwallis resolved that it should bo occupied. Select British engineers were employed for this purpose, and new works were raised, with a due regard to all the requisitions of military science. Among these works was a redoubt, in the form of a star, with six- teen salient and returning angles. It stood within rifle- shot to the southeast of the village. It was manned with three pieces of artillery, worked on wheeled carriages, which enabled its defenders to sweep any point along the horizon ; while the rifles of a numerous garrison covered the more limited range with crossing fires, from which it was scarcely possible that any assailants should escape A dry ditch, frieze, and abatis, by which it was sur SIEGE OF NINETY-SIX. 235 rounded, still farther increased the strength of the po* sition, and lessened the chances of successful assault upon the defenders. Opposite, at a distance of nearly two hundred yards, a stockade fort, which enclosed two blockhouses of strength, occupied the crown of a small eminence. A little valley, traversed by a streamlet, which afforded water to the garrison, divided this fortress from the village, and was reached by a covert way. Con- tiguous to this valley, and as a protection on the right, the county jail had been converted into a castle, and was strongly garrisoned also. The several places of defence lay within easy reach and support of one another, and numerously held, with ample supplies of food and ammunition, might well discourage the inferior and ill-provided army with which Greene prepared to undertake the leaguer. His force, exclusive of militia, did not exceed a thousand men, and left him without the means of assailing the gaiTison except on a single side. He had sat down before the place on the 22d of May, commencing his examination in person, accom- panied by the celebrated Kosciuzko, his chief engineer, and one of his aids, and, under cover of a thick and rainy night, approaching so near the works as to be challenged and fired upon by the sentinels. The star redoubt was selected as the most conspicuous object for attack, as it commanded all the others. Yet Greene was totally without battering cannon, and in such a deficiency, the only modes of procedure were by simple blockade, by mining, or by storm. The former process, the garrison having abundance of provisions, it was useless to attempt : Greene resolved upon trying both the remaining modes. Had it been known that the garrison had failed to procure water by digging within the redoubt, it would have been easy to cut them off from the stream which wound through the valley; — but, 236 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. as, on a previous occasion, a well had been sunk within the redoubt, affording ample quantities, the besiegers had no reason to doubt that a similar experiment would be followed by the same result. The besiegers broke giound on the 23d ; and, pro- ceeding by regular approaches, on the 3d of June the second parallel was completed. Numbering but twice the force of the garrison, the duty fell severely upon the Americans of fighting and working, with little relief or cessation. On completing the first parallel, a mine, directed against the star redoubt, was commenced, under cover of a battery which had been thrown up on the enemy's right. Day and night, the work was pursued by the besiegers. Now laboring in the ditches, — now watching over those who labored, — and sleeping, where they toiled, on their arms, with the view to repel the sallies of the besieged — their hours of rest and respite were exceedingly limited. The besieged showed neither want of energy nor spirit. Their sallies were frequent, marked by great audacity, and usually resulted in pro- longed and bloody conflicts. The steady progress of the American works sufficiently prove, that, however bold, the sallies of the garrison were without any pro- ductive results. They proved rather their courage and daring, than their ability and strength. Not a night passed without battle and the loss of life. With the comjDletion of the second parallel, the gar- rison was summoned to surrender. A courtly defiance was Cruger's answer. The third and last parallel was immediately begun, and prosecuted with a degree of vigor which the exhausted state of the army would have scarcely promised. It was at this moment, when most he needed his recruits, that Greene was apprized that the Virginia mihtia, two thousand in number, for whom he had been looking so long, had been diverted in another DISCOURAGEMENTS OF THE SIEGE. 237 quarter by the governor of that state. He had com- menced his operations against Ninety-Six, in anticipa- tion of this body of men. The miUtia of South Carohna and Georgia were barely adequate to the duty of keep ing Rawdon and the tories in check. Those under Pickens were still engaged in the siege of Augusta. Could the Virginians have arrived in season, the siege could have been pressed at once to conclusion, and the place, in spite of the vigor of its defence, must have soon fallen into his hands. What rendered the proceed- ing particularly ungracious, which deprived him of the Virginia militia, was the fact, that, for the defence of this very state, he had voluntarily deprived himself of his whole disposable force. It was at his instance, when Cornwallis was found to be pressing upon Virginia, that Lafayette had been ordered back, — that the troops of Pennsylvania, on their way south, had been halted and made to act under Lafayette and Steuben, — and that the North-Carolina levies, actually on their way to join him, had been sent in the same direction to the succor of the sister state. And this magnanimity had been shown by Greene immediately after the battle of Cam- den, when he was lying in front of a superior enemy, and destitute of almost everything. He could only complain and remonstrate against this treatment. He had no other remedy. To issue new orders to the North-Carolina levies to join him instead of proceeding to Virginia, — to make a new effort to raise troops in South Carolina and Georgia, — and to concentrate all his present strength upon the present object — that of bringing the ganison of Ninety-Six to their'knees with all rapidity, — were the tasks before him, and to which all his energies were now addressed. With the commencement of his third parallel against the star redoubt, the sallies of the gari'ison were increased. 3f> LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. in frequency and spirit. The fighting was incessant Their three pieces were used with equal vigor and judgment, and it became necessary to silence them if possible. Rude towers of roughly-hewn logs were raised, of sufficient solidity to withstand the weight of the shot thrown by the garrison. These were manned with marksmen, whose fire, from a commanding position, soon picked the artillerists from their guns. Red-hot shot were employed, by the besieged, for the destruction of these towers ; but the green wood of which they were constructed, baffled the fervor of the flames. Si- lenced during the day, the artillery of the garrison was employed for a while, fruitlessly, at night ; but this prac- tice was soon abandoned, as it was found how ineffec- tual was the aim. The cordon was contracting around the brave defenders of the fort; and the arrival of Lee, with his legion, from the siege of Augusta, which had now surrendered, enabled Greene to direct his efforts against the stockade fortress also. He had reason to urge all his efforts to shorten the duration of the siege. Des patches from Marion had brought him intelligence of the arrival, in Charleston, of three British regiments, to the support of Rawdon. The acquisition of this force would give the latter the immediate and complete ascen- dency in the state, and, as Greene well knew, would set him instantly in motion for the relief of the beleaguered post. To press his leaguer with all his strength and energy, and to keep the garrison from any knowledge of the increased ability, or of the efforts, of Rawdon to relieve them, were the immediate objects of the Ameri- can general. To secure the latter object. Colonel Wash ington, who had now rejoined the army with his cavab-y, and the cavalry of Lee's legion under Major Rudolph, were ordered to reinforce Sumter, who was instructed to form a junction with Marion — the whole force, thu« THE GARRISON S iRAITENED. 230 united, to hang upon the enemy's march, retard his movements by every possible means, and completely cover the country over which tidings of his approach could be transmitted. Assuming the reduction of Ninety-Six as a matter certain, could the necessary delay be secured, Greene's determination was, after that event, taking with him the Georgia and South-Carolina militia, to join his forces with those of Sumter and Marion, and give Rawdon battle on the march. But the reduction of Ninety-Six was the first object. The siege of the star was urged with the desperate energy of those who knew how much depended on the event. Lee, meanwhile, made regular and rapid ap- proaches to the stockade. He, too, had to encounter numerous and spirited sallies of the besieged; — but his advance was equally swift and steady; and very soon, between his fire and that of the third parallel, the enemy could no longer venture to the rivulet for water in the light of day. Naked negroes were now employed, by night, for the purpose of bringing in the necessary sup- plies to the garrison of both places ; and those who know the singular consideration of self which marks this class of people, may easily imagine how limited must have been the supply thus furnished to the garrison. To increase their disquiets and discomforts, an attempt was made, such as had been employed by Marion at Fort Motte, to set fire to the buildings within the fort by means of buraing arrows. But Cruger instantly un- roofed his houses, and thus escaped all farther peril from this source of annoyance. An attempt of Lee to de stroy the abatis of the stockade by fire, in open daylight v/as similarly unsuccessful, and resulted in the desti'uc tion of the whole party engaged in the attempt. But these disappointments dia not discourage the besiegers The fate of the brave garrison seerr:ed to be a thin^r 2 40 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. written. It was evident that the defence could not much longer be maintained. Tlieir works were all overawed by the superior fire of the besiegers, whose wooden towers approached within thirty yards of the ditch, from which the riflemen swept everything human that rose within vision above tbe ramparts. A battery, twenty feet high, for cannon, within a hundred and forty yards, 60 entirely commanded the star redoubt, that it became necessary to give its jiarapet, already twelve feet high, three feet more of elevation ; which was done by meana of sandlrags, small intervals between which were left for the use of small arms. The withdrawal of the bags by night, left embrazures for the cannon, which could thus be pointed capriciously, without suffering the assailants to conjecture in what quarter they would next appear. Thus, with a stubbornness and perseverance, on both sides, which amply testified the common origin of the several combatants, they lay watching each other. The pressing energy of the one, was nobly met by the unflinching constancy of the other. For eighteen days had the conflict continued : and, at this moment, not a man could show his head on either side without draw- ing the fire of his enemy. It was seldom that the bullet was sped in vain. Much blood had been already shed. Many were the gallant deeds performed on both sides — on that of the garrison, apparently, in vain. Sanguine of the result, now apparently at hand, the soldiers of Greene looked forward to a grateful termination of their toils in the surrender of the fortress. A corresponding gloom, which was only not despair, had fastened upon the hearts of their opponents. Their resources were diminishing, their strength momently lessening, their hope exhausted. They knew nothing of the reinforce- ments received by Rawdon — knew nothing of his approach for their relief. Their minds were prepared RAWDON APPROACHES TO RELIEVE THE GARRISON. 241 foi' the catastrophe which seemed inevitable ; w^hen, at the moment of their greatest despondency, they received tidings of succor, and w^ere invigorated to new efforts in the contest. The facts were these ; — they mingle a little romance with the cull details of ordinary matters. — There was a young lady, the daughter and sister of tried and honored patriots, who resided at a place not far distant from the American camp. Unsuspected, she visited the camp, with a flag, on some pretence of little moment. She was received with civility, and dined at the table of the general. It was not known that she was the betrothed of a British officer then in the garri- son. Subsequently, however, it was discovered that she had remained for a day or two at a neighboring farm- house. In this period, a young loyalist, well mounted, dashed through the American line of pickets, and, by the rapidity of his flight, baffled the sudden fire which he drew from the sentinels. His audacity, and the nar j'ow escape which he ran, were a sufficient passport for his admission to the garrison. He brought the tidings, in a verbal message from Lord Rawdon, which gave new life to the garrison. His news was too grateful to be questioned. Their huzzas, and an animated feu de joie, announced his mission to the besiegers, and indi- cated the newborn resolution which now defied their utmost efforts. It now became necessary that the place should be earned by storm. With Rawdon approaching, and the gan'ison in possession of the fact, there was no chance of a more pacific termination of the siege. Accord- ingly, the resolution having been taken, the several cle« tachments of the besiegers were ready by twelve, on the morning of the 18th of June, to attempt the assault; — hot work for hot weather. Lee was to command in the assault upon the stockade. His forlorn hope was n 242 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. led by Rudolph, supported by the infantry of the legion, and the remains of the gallant Delawares under Kirk- wood. The forlorn hope against the star redoubt was led by Lieutenants Duval and Seldon, — the one with a command of Marylanders, and the other of Virginians. They were followed by Colonel Campbell at the head of the first Maryland and first Virginia regiments, by whom the assault was to be made. The American forts, the rifle-towers, and the advanced works, were all manned, with orders to sweep and clear the enemy's parapet during the advance of the storming party. Par- ties bearing fascines to fill the ditches, others armed with long poles barbed with hooks of iron to pull down the sandbags, followed in the footsteps of the forlorn hopes, the tasks of which, particularly in the attempt on the star redoubt, were sufficiently perilous. They were to advance, under the numerous crossfires of its angles, to clear the abatis, and, driving off the defenders, occupy the curtain opposite them, while the bookmen drew the sandbags from the walls. This service done, Campbell, with his two regiments, was to gain the summit and finish the work. The American works were manned, accordingly, with riflemen prepared to sweep the enemy's parapets. Pre- cisely at noon, the signal for the assault was given. Then followed a blaze of fire from artillery and small arms, from right to left, all concentrating on the centre of attack. Under this cloud of fire and storm, the assail- ing parties rushed to the assault. No effort could have been more nobly impulsive, or more resolutely main- tained. In an instant, this gallant little band had crossed the ditch and commenced the work of destroying the abatis. They were encountered by a terrible fire from within the works, the severity of which naturally in- creased with the increased destruction of the abatis. ATTEMPT TO STORM THE REDOUBT. 243 From every crevice in the sandbags, the rifle poured forth its deadly missile — a constant stream, to which the assailants could oppose nothing but unflinching ob- stinacy in the prosecution of their tasks. It was in vain that they opposed their constancy to this destructive fire. Pikes and bayonets bristled above them, defying their approach, and mocking their endeavors. Between two angles of the redoubt, the discharges of both swept their columns with unsparing rage. Their bravest were the first to fall. The gallant Captain Armstrong, of the 1st Marylanders, was struck down, among the first, at the head of his company. Duval and Seldon were both severely wounded. Bui they pressed forward, encour- aging their commands, till the curtain was won, and the bookmen, promptly following while the other fought, strove to pull down the sandbags from their elevations. The attainment of this object might have secured the victory ; but they had greatly miscalculated the depth of the ditch and the height of the parapet. The sand- bags were above their reach, and their toils were taken in vain. This was a melancholy misfortune. Greene saw with anguish the fruitlessness of the struggle. The prey was about to escape his grasp. The fight had continued for nearly an hour, and but little had been achieved. The stockade had been won, with little risk, by Lee's party, led by Rudolph ; the enemy having concentrated them- selves, for the final struggle, in the star. But this ad vantage was of little moment. No impression had beei^ made on the formidable redoubt, which had been the main object of the enterprise. The greater part of the assailing party had fallen, either slain or wounded, in the ditch. It was possible that success might attend a con- tinuance of the conflict. Lee was prepared to sustain the movement on the right. The assailing party had 244 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. been, comparatively, a small one, and repeated efforts, with larger parties, might result more fortunately. But, with Rawdon approaching with a fresh army, Greene dared not wait the doubtful issues of the conflict. Even if successful in the storm, yet what could be his hope against the now full regiments of the British, with a greatly crippled army. Reluctantly, he gave the order to retire. Lee was recalled ; Campbell commanded to desist; and the survivors in the strife, bringing back with them the greater number of their wounded com- rades, escaped in the face of a galling fire, which the garrison delivered as thev retired. SPIRITS OP THE TROOPS. 245 CHAPTER XVII. Greeue reti-eats from Ninety-Six.— Is pursued by Rawdon.— The latter evacuates Ninety-Six, and retires toward the Seaboard.— Greene turns upon and pursues him.— Various Movements of the Armies.— Ravp-don at Orangeburg. — Greene offers him Battle.— He declines it. — Is strengthened by Cruger, and Greene retires and encamps among the High Hills of Santee. The cup of triumph was once more plucked from the lips of the Americans, at the very moment when the pre- cious draught seemed to be secure. Greene v/as not much the favorite of fortune. What he achieved seemed to be in her despite. The siege of Ninety-Six had lasted twenty-eight days. In its progress he had lost nearly two hundred men killed and wounded ; but, even with this disappointment of his object, and this diminution of his force, he found some reasons for hope and consola- tion. The constancy and spirit which his troops had shown, were full of the happiest auguries. They were beginning to reap, obviously, all the advantages which qualify the mortification of defeat, and prepare for a grateful change of fortune. There was no longer dan- ger that they would again suffer from such a panic as lost them the field of Hobkirk, and Greene had not so much to regret in his failure before Ninety-Six except the loss of so many admirable soldiers. With adequate num- bers, trained like these, he should no longer shrink from 1 pitched battle with his enemy. In his despatches to Congi-ess, he expresses this confidence and satisfaction. •* The behavior of the troops on this occasion deserves the highest commendation. . . They have undergone in- 246 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. credible hardships during the siege. . . Had the Virginia militia joined us, agreeably to orders, success would have been complete." He did not withdraw from the leaguer too precipitately. Rawdon's army was almost within striking distance. He was but a few miles off when the last struggle was made, and the storming party was rush- ing to the breach. The force of Rawdon was more than two thousand men ; too large a force for the detachments under Sumter and Marion to oppose. He was also strong in cavalry. They could only hang upon his flanks ; and even in the performance of this duty, an unfortunate facility of route, which enabled Rawdon to choose at pleasure, and almost at any moment, required that the forces of the partisans should be so scattered as, if pos- sible, to keep a watch on all. The same circumstance prevented Sumter from calling in his detachments, and pressing for Ninety-Six in season to enable Greene, thus strengthened, to advance and choose the proper ground for an advantageous meeting with his lordship. For this Greene was anxious. He writes with great earnestness on this subject to all the partisans. " It is my wish to meet him," is the language of one of these letters, " and I doubt not of victory if the virtuous militia collect and fight with their usual gallantry. Come on, then, my good friend, and bring Lieutenant-Colonel Jackson with you, and all the good troops you have collected. Let us have a field-day, and I doubt not it will be a glorious one. No time is to be lost, — be here to-morrow evening at far- thest." This was written on the 17th. It was on the 18th that the attempt was made to storm the post af Ninety-Six. But the virtuous militia did not arrive in season, and the approach of Rawdon rendered the at- tempt to storm, and the subsequent retreat, indispensa- ble. Greene, therefore, on the 19th, moved off, dti the track of his baggage, previously sent, across the Saluda, QREEiVE RETREATS FROM NINETY-SIX. 247 This retrograde movement, as usual, affected the enthu- siasm of the militia. Of four regiments of volunteers, under Sumter, every man left him in a single day. Marion was only less unfortunate. The fluctuations of the spirits of an army can only be counteracted by the imperative necessity of the service ; by the conviction on the part of the soldiers, that, through good or ill fortune, they have no refuge but in camp. The lessons of the revolutionary war were incessant, and of the most impressive character, which taught the absurdity of any other process for raising troops among the militia, than that which binds them to the business for the whole war. Greene's retreat, once begun, was pressed with little intermission for twenty-two miles. It was well that he could retreat. He had shown his troops that such a ne- cessity implies feebleness but not discredit, and some- times, indeed, supplies what is equal to a victory. At all events, his soldiers had learned to endure, without too great a degree of humiliation, this usually humiliating necessity. Had Greene been a more rash and impulsive man, he might have recoiled, at the risk of their safety and his own reputation, at the inevitable misfortune; and by giving way to his pride against his judgment, have forfeited the stakes he played for. But, in truth, retreat did not imply, in his case, the disappointment of his ob- jects. He was simply driven, for the moment, from his prey, which, events had shown, was destined to fall into his hands at last. Thus had he been hunted and pursued by Cornwallis, yet the latter had been exhausted by the vei-y advantages he had won, while the American gen- eral, soon recovering, was pressing forward to a renewal of his efforts. To Cornwallis, Rawdon had succeeded ; and Greene was twice — soon to be thrice — driven before him. Yet, all the while, the strongholds of the British were fallincj into the hands of his detachments, 2iS LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. and he was reaily, the moment that his pursuer had given up the chase, to turn upon his footsteps and renew his enterprises. These characteristics of the warfare he pur- sued, well understood among his followers, had now ta- ken the sting from partial defeat, and the humiliation from flight. Retreat was only a part of the game, and not an unforeseen disaster. It was, in other words, that process of muscular contraction which is necessary to a becoming future exercise of strength ; such a contrac- tion as the individual makes, when, seeking to spring far, he crouches low. Cheerfully then, and in good spirits, strengthened by their past experience, the troops of Greene made their way over Bush river, and, with the tidings of Rawdon's advance, sped on yet farther across the rivers Enoree, Tyger, and Broad, halting, on the 25th, at a place called Tim's Ordinary, about half way between the Broad and the Catawba rivers. Rawdon pushed for- ward to the Enoree, but found the pursuit to be equally impolitic and vain. Greene had swept the country in his progress, and was in due route to his magazines on the Catawba. Rawdon, moving from his own, felt momently the increasing want of supplies, his foragers not daring to venture far in the face of two strong de- tachments of cavalry and light-infantry, under Washing- ton and Lee, accompanied by Greene himself, that sul- lenly preceded the pursuit. The army of the Americans, meanwhile, continued its march under Colonel Williams. Greene had gained another of his victories when Raw- don abandoned the pursuit. He had the fate of Corn- wallis before him, whose pursuit of Greene, continued into three states, had, by a curious coincidence, begun at the very spot where his successor deemed it wiser to forbear. It might be that Rawdon was less influenced by this ominous coincidence than we have reason to sup- pose. Other considerations may have governed him in BRITISH ABANDON NINETY-SIX. 249 abandoning the cliase. His troops were fresh from Eu« rope, had marched nearly two hundred and fifty miles in less than twelve days, and, clad in thick garments, were far less able to withstand the melting heats of the climate in midsummer, than the Americans, who were little burdened with any clothing. His return to Nine- ty-Six 1 evealed still farther the difficulties of his govera- ment. That place was to be abandoned also. Remote from the seaboard, it could no longer be maintained. The toils were closing momently around the invader, and he was compelled, however reluctantly, to draw in all the troops from his outposts, — to contract his antennae. This necessity, if humbling to the British, was pregnant with still worse conditions to their tory allies. Ninety-Six had been the very centre of their wantonness and power. Here, encouraged by the foreign emissary, they had run full riot over the whig inhabitants. In the simple con- sciousness of strength, they had indulged it in excess, and the surrounding country had been ravaged by their gross and terrible barbarities. When, therefore, sum- moning their chiefs around him, Rawdon declared the necessity of withdrawing the British garrison from the post, a terror which they had never felt before seized upon their apprehensions. This was to abandon them to the just vengeance of their enemies. The day of retribution was come. They felt what was due to their atrocities, and shrunk from the tender mercies of the avenger. There was but one alternative before them, and that they adopted. This was to abandon the coun- try and to follow that foreign power to which, and their own passions, they had sold themselves, and which alone could give them protection. Melancholy was the specta- cle that followed. Trooping slowly and gloomily in the van and rear of the British army, wont the families of this unhappy faction. For days the roads from Ninety-Six 11* 250 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. were ciovvilcd with a wretched cavalcade, men, women children, and slaves, with cattle and w^agons, seeking the protection of the British army on its way to the sea- board. They were leavhig their homesteads at the most endearing season. The whole country was looking most beautiful in the vigorous warmth of the maturing sum- mer. Their fields, paved in green and gold, with the growing harvests, and fruits and flowers on every hand, imploring them to stay, compelled tears from eyes that had not often shown pity to their fellow-creatures. Con- scious of their own brutal rage and the hardness of heart with which, in the season of their prosperity and power, they had regarded their unhappy brethren among the whigs, they could hope for no mercy from them in the day which found the position of the parties reversed. They did not dare to make the experiment upon sympa- thies which they had so commonly joyed to outrage ; and, followed by keen eyes of vengeance, as they clung to the shelter of the British, on their downward marcli, they made their way, a melancholy and doomed commu- nity, to the neighborhood of Charleston, where a misera- ble hamlet, called Rawdontown, in the suburbs of the city, gave them temporary shelter ; but where pestilence, and the diseases of an unfriendly climate, soon thinned their numbers, leaving but few to burden the retiring vessels of the enemy when they finally left the country. Such as remained in the interior suffered more summa- rily, but it is doubtful if from a severer fate. The re- turning whigs, desperate from ruined circumstances, and protracted injuries, pursued their vengeance with a sleep- less appetite wherever they could find a victim. The country was depopulated, and in spite of the strenuous efforts of Greene to meliorate the sufferings of the peo« pie, or rather, their rage, he was but too frequently com- pelled to hear of cruelties which shocked humanity, an^ GREENE TURNS UPON RAWDON. 251 of bloody revenges for past crimes, over which humanity could only weep. The time that he could spare from the enemy, was devoted to the most earnest endeavors to soothe the passions and disarm the fury of the people ; but his toils were only in part successful. It is estima- ted that the civil war in Ninety-Six District alone left fifteen hundred widows to deplore its horrors. In retracing his steps toward the seaboard, and with- drawing the forces from Ninety-Six, Lord Rawdon di- vided his army into two nearly equal bodies. One of these bodies, under Cruger, was employed to cover the departure of the Loyalists ; while the other, consisting of eleven hundred infantry, sixty cavalry, and two compa- nies of artillery, under his own command, took up the line of march, on the 29th of June, for Orangeburg, at which place he had instructed Colonel Stuart, with a strong detachment, to meet him. The signal for his de- parture was that of the return of Greene upon his track. He had already anticipated the necessity for the retreat of Rawdon, and provided against it. Lee, with his legion, was ordered to hover about the post of Ninety- Six, and to strike whenever an opportunity offered. Washington, with his cavalry and the infantry of Kirk- wood, was to keep near the enemy at Orangeburg, with a similar purpose. Sumter was instructed to descend the country, and to co-operate with Marion in pursuit of the common object ; while Greene, himself, with the main army, taking the route toward Granby, was to determine his own by the movements of the enemy. The progress of the latter seemed to indicate a design upon the posts which the Americans had recently reconquered; and tl?e apprehensions of Greene were still lively lest Rawdon should organize gamsons along the route from Ninety- Six, out of the bands of loyalists about him, with which his foreign reinforcements enabled him to dispense foT 2^2 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. the present. Greene's object, in this pursuit, and in th won, and, exulting in the prospect, they darted forth as if to secure the prey. This was the very moment for which Greene had been watching. Pressing forward with loud shouts, the British line became disordered, and, seeing his moment, the American general gave the or- der to the commander of the second line — ** Let Wil- liams advance and sweep the field with his bayonets !" The rival regiments of Maryland and Virginia, the one led by Williams, the other by Campbell, rushed forward with trailed arms to obey it. Reserving their fire, they hurried on with shouts of exultation, and preserving their order, while exhibiting the highest degree of emu- lation, they moved to the fatal charge. Within foity yards of the enemy, the Virginians poured in a destruc- tive fire, when the whole line pressed forward to finish BATTLE OF EUTAW. 291 the work with naked steel. With their advance the Brit ish line showed symptoms of disquiet, and began to re- trograde in some disorder. At this lucky moment, the legion infantry of Lee, on the extreme left, availing itself of the exposure of the British flank, delivered a heavy enfilading volley, and followed it up with a charge of bayonets. This confirmed the apprehensions of the ene- my, and their left was thrown into irretrievable disorder. But their right and centre still appeared immoveable. It was now for the Marylanders to do what the Virgin- ians had rather precipitately done before. They threw in a fatal fire of their whole brigade, and the panic which already pervaded the British left extended to the remain- ing divisions. No troops ever came nearer to the actual crossing of the bayonet: so nigh were they, indeed, that the opposing officers sprang at each other with their swords. But the appearance of a conflict so desperate was only for an instant. " The Buffs" alone stood firm against the shock, and, for a while, the mutual thrust of the bayonet transfixed the opposing combatants in their several ranks. But the fire of the Marylanders, followed up by their desperate charge, swept away all opposition. The whole line of the .enemy gave way. The rout was complete, the fugitives hurrying away to seek the shel- ter of the post already designated for this purpose, in the event of disaster, while many, with a nameless terror, sped forward to carry the tidings of defeat and dismay to the very gates of Charleston. The victory was now considered certain, but fortune was about to exhibit one of those caprices which are supposed to prove her blindness. Many, who already joined in the shouts of victory, were yet decreed to bleed. The carnage had only commenced. The Americans pur- sued the fugitive enemy to their camp. Here, however, the Biiti:h officers had made their stand. Here, as pro 292 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. viously concerted, the dwelling-house had been convert, ed by Major Sheridan into a fortress, which he occupied with a strong body of infantry ; while others were busy in arrestino: the fuo^itives in their flijjht and subduinsf them to order under the cover of the fences and pickets. Ma- joribanks, with his detachment of three hundred, still stood firm under cover, in the thickets which border the Eutaw, and where the extreme of the British right, stretch- ing considerably beyond the American left, still betrayed a reluctance to give way. They felt the protection af- forded them by his command, and were not insensible to the superiority which they yet possessed over their enemy. The two armies meanwhile — the American right jDres- sing the British left, which no longer offered resistance — were now performing together " a half wheel which brought them into the open ground in front of the house." Greene now saw that unless Majovibanks was dislodged, the Maryland flank would be traversed by his fire. Or- ders were given to Washington to pass the American left and charge the British right. Colonel Hampton was despatched to co-operate with Washington. The latter, however, had already proceeded in his charge ; and, sweeping through the woods with his mounted men only, was endeavoring to break through the dense and almost impervious thicket in which Majoribanks found shelter. While engaged in this endeavor, the fire of Majoribanks was delivered with destructive effect, which emptied a score of saddles, and brought down every officer but two. Washington himself fell, his horse beinor shot under him, and, while struggling to extricate himself, was bayonet- ed and taken prisoner. Hampton with his command appeared at this moment, and, collecting the scattered fractions of Washington's, renewed the desperate at' tempt, but with similar disappointment. His attempt was followed up with more perseverance by Kirkwood's BATTLE OP EUTAW. 293 infantry, before whose bayonets the cletachnr-ent of Ma- joribanks slowly yielded, still holding their cover in the thicket, and making for a new position, in closer neigh- borhood with the main army, with their rear protected by Eutaw creek, and sheltered by the pickets of the garden. At this moment the whole British line was flying before the bayonets of the Americans. Their right had imbibed the panic which had seized the left, and were in full flicrht. Their course lay through their encampment. The Americans were pressing closely at their heels, ma- king prisoners at every step ; and the sole hope of the British lay in the possession which Sheridan had taken of the brick dwelling-house which commanded the field in the compact front which Majoribanks still present- ed — and in the fact that some of the routed companies, from the left, had made good their retreat into the pick- eted garden, from which, under a partial cover, they could fire with effect. Even these positions were not gained but with great' difficulty. So keen and close had been the pursuit, that detached bodies of the Americans had reached the house before it was yet fairly occupied by the men of Sheridan. An attempt to enter along with them, brought on a severe struggle at the entrance, in which, had the American party been sustained by the appearance of their horse, as they should have been, even this last resort of the British must have been taken from them. The latter prevailed, however, succeeding in ef fecting their own entrance and excluding their assailants, while their sharp-shooters from the upper windows ef- fectually repelled the audacity of their pursuers. So short was the time allowed them — so narrow was their escape — that they could only secure the dwelling against the Americans by shutting the door in the faces of some of their own officei s. These were made prisoners by the former. One of them was a dapper little gallant ol 894 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. the British army, a great ladies' man, a wit, and seme thing of a Brummell. This was Major Barry, the secre tary §f Balfour, the commandant of Charleston. EaiTy fell into the hands of Lieutenant Manning, of Lee's legion. Manning, finding the upper windows to be full of British musketeers, about to measure his person with their muz- zles, did not scruple to seize Barry, and, before tlie as- tonished Briton could conceive his purpose, to hoist him upon his shoulders. Thus covered with the scarlet of a British uniform, with the person of one of their officers completely covering his own, the lieutenant reasonably calculated that he should interpose a sufficient physical as well as moral reason why he should not incur the pen- alty of a shower of British bullets. It was in vain that Barry inteiposed in the language of offended dignity: "Sir!" said he, "sir, I am Henry Barry; I am deputy- adjutant of the British army; captain in his majesty's fif- ty-second regiment; secretary to the commandant of Charleston, &c. ; major of," &c. " The very man I was in search of," answered Manning ; " I am delighted to make your acquaintance ! Fear nothing, Adjutant Bar- ry, fear nothing. It is my policy to take care of you, and I am determined you shall take care of me : we must, in times like these, take care of each other." The Virginian succeeded in carrying off his captive upon his back in safety. It was at this moment that the fruits of the victory were lost to the Americans. When the jmrsuing army made their way to the British encampment, and found their tents all standing, filled with " creature comforts" of a character too tempting for a famished soldiery, the business of pursuit was forgotten ; the object of strife, the new perils which attended their position. They were unequal to the temptation, and fell to, with fiercest appetite, upon the unwonted luxuries of the British com- BATTLE OP EUTAVT. 205 raissaiiat. They scattered themselves among the tents,, and eagerly seizing upon the food and liquor which they contained, became in a short time utterly unmanageable. Irretrievable was the confusion which followed in the ranks of the American army. It was in vain that their officers, exposing themselves to the British marksmen firing from the windows, strove to extricate them from their wretched predicament. But a few corps escaped the pernicious attraction, from the baneful effects of which, upon the army, it was difficult to perceive a remedy. The tents were covered by the fire from the house. This was fast thinning the American officers, whose sense of duty prompting the sacrifice, passed from tent to tent in the hope of bringing the soldiers to their duty. These were fast becoming indiffisrent to the consequences of their eiTor. Greene was soon conscious of his danger. He saw that, while the fire from the house swept the encampment, Majoribanks, supported by Coffin's cavalry, was watching his moment to engage in the performance. His orders were extended for the legion cavalry to fall upon and disperse the command of Coffin ; while the ar- tillery of the second line of the Americans, which had not been dismounted in the conflict, together with a couple of six-pounders which the enemy had abandoned in their flight, were brought forward to batter the house in which Sheridan had taken shelter. Unfortunately, the very ar- dor of those tc whom this duty was intrusted was fatal to its object. They had run the pieces so nearly to the house as to leave them commanded by its musketry. The consequence was, that the artillerists had scarcely opened their fire, which must have compelled the surrender of the garrison, if properly directed, when they were all swept away by the destructive storm of bullets which re- sponded from the house. The guns were left unmanned, utterly abandoned, and, very soon after, a movement of 296 LIFE OF NATIIANABL GREENE. the detachment of Majoribanks threw them into his poS' session. The orders sent by Greene to Lee, for the dis- persion of Coffin's cavalry, did not find the former offi- cer, who was witli his infantry. They were delivered to Major Eggleston, with a detachment. He made the charge with promptness and decision, but lacked the force to make the proper impression on the command of Coffin. The latter drove forward, and, but for the timely ariival of Hampton, with his own and the remains of Washington's cavalry, that of Eggleston would have been scattered like chaff before the wind. An obstinate struggle followed, hand to hand, in which the British liorse were finally driven back to the shelter of the in- fantry under Majoribanks. These \^y perdu ; and the eager pursuit of Coffin brought the cavalry of Hampton once more within reach of their destructive fire. The American cavalry recoiled beneath it, were again re- pulsed and broken, and, availing himself of the moment when they were seeking shelter in the woods, Majori- banks dashed out from his covert, seized the artillery, and dragging it off in triumph, proceeded to feel with his bayonets the tents where still lingered that remnant of the American soldiers who were too inebriate for escape. Greene, with the failure of his artillery, had call*^d off his forces. His army was soon rallied in the cover of the woods; and, though Stuart had now succeeded in forming his line anew, he was in too crippled a condi lion to venture beyond the cover of the house. BESULTS OP THE CONFLICT. 297 CHAPTER XXL The American Army retires to the Hills of the Saiitee.— Its Condition am^ that of the British.— The Movements of the Partisans.— Stuart at Wan- toot. — The Fall of Cornwallis. — The Hopes it inspired. — Their Disap- jjointment. — Greene marches for the Edisto. — Rapid Approach to Dor- chester.— Flight of the GaiTison.— Stuart retreats.— Alarm in the British Army. — The Americans take Post on the Round O. Thus ended this obstinate conflict, in which both sides claimed the victory : the Americans, because the enemy- had been driven from the field, and pursued to their en- campment ; the British, because, in the second struo-o-le. at the encampment, all the advantages lay with them — the Americans being repulsed with the loss of their ar- tillery. Thus far, the claims of both parties may be re- garded as very nearly equal. If, with a superior force, the British deserve reproach for being driven from the field, still greater is it to the discredit of the Americans that they should have suffered the victory already in their possession to be lost by misconduct or mismanagement. Unquestionably the aff*air was mismanaged by the Amer- icans, and there was great misconduct. It is not within the compass of a work like ours to discuss the deo-ree of censure which should apply to those having in charo-e the duties which were slurred in performance, and the mistakes which led to the disaster. It is enouo-h, in re- gard to our subject, to say that Greene succeeded in drawing off his several corps in most respects entire. He might still have renewed the battle with advantage, and probably would have done so, but for the excessive 13* 2^8 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. heat of the weather, the intensity of which was such that the soldiery might be seen to plunge, for water to quench their intolerable thirst, into puddles which were deeply discolored with the blood of their comrades. Content with having driven his enemy from the field, and so crip- pled him as to make his further flight to the metropolis essential to his safety, Greene retired for the present to the place where he had spent the previous night, seven mile.? from the field of battle. He halted on the ground only long enough to collect and bring off his wounded, and make arrangements for burying his dead; and leav- ing Colonel Hampton with a strong picket to watch the enemy, he withdrew to Burdell's, the only place in which water could be found adequate to the wants of the army. The losses of the American army, chiefly the result of the second conflict in the open grounds, were very heavy. Their returns exhibited a loss of one hundred and four- teen rank and file killed, three hundred wounded, and fortv missin"" — the aofsfrecrate exceeding one fourth of all who marched into battle. The British acknowledged a loss of three commissioned oflicers killed, sixteen wound- ed, and ten missing; of rank and file, eighty-two killed, three hundred and thirty-five wounded, and two hundred and forty-seven missing. And yet Greene brought oflT from the field of battle four hundred and thirty prisoners, not including seventy wounded which Stuart left behind him when, the next day, he abandoned the Eutaws. The American loss had been particularly severe in oflicers : sixty-one of these had been killed or wounded ; of these, twenty-one had died upon the field of battle — the gallant Campbell, of Virginia, among them, dying in the arms of victory — declaring himself "contented," when told that the enemy were flying. The condition of Washing- ton's command particularly provoked the regrets and sor- rows of the American general. Their almost desperate STUART RETREATS. 299 cliarge upon the thickets which covered tlie detachment of Majoribanks was a proof of the most chivalrous self- de\ )tion. Visiting the hovel where their wounded lay, the evening after the battle, his full heart forced from his lips the apology — "It was a trying duty, but unavoida- ble. I could not help it." Feeble as he was, scarcely less crippled than his ene- my, and exceedingly deficient in officers, of which he had never been provided with an adequate complement, Greene was by no means insensible to the necessity of grasping all the advantages which must ensue from the bloody struggle which was just ended. He reasonably conjectured that the necessities of his condition would compel the British commander to abandon his position and seek security in Charleston, or be compelled to cal'' up reinforcements from that place for the maintenance of his ground. In order to baffle either purpose, Lee and Marion were despatched, with instructions to cover the avenues between, and cut off the retreat, or arrest tlie reinforcements ; while Greene himself, in the event of Stuart's flight, should press the pursuit, and try the issue of another conflict. But Stuart was even more crippled than the Americans had imagined. His exi- gencies admitted of no delay. Calling up the garrison at Fairlawn to cover his retreat, he broke up his encamp- ment the day after the battle, destroying his stores, a thousand stand of arms, leaving his deadunburied, and sev- enty of his wounded to the mercy and care of the Amer- icans. His flight was so rapid as to elude the attempt of Lee and Marion to cast themselves across his path — at least before his junction had been effected with the rein- forcement from Fairlawn, which left ihem too inferior in force to attempt to retard his progress. Greene, himself, at 3nce joined in the pursuit, which was continued for a day, out without overtaking his enemy Finding the chase 500 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. fruitless, he determined to give his army a necessary rest, and, alter a short halt at the Eutavvs, he returned once more to the salubrious hills of the Santee. Never was respite from toil more necessary. Critical and embarrassing as had been his frequent situations, it was never more so than immediately after the battle at Eutaw. His militia had left or were about to leave him. Of the North-Carolinians there remained but a hundred men, and their term of service was at its close. The South Carolina mihtia, under Marion, Pickens, Hamp- ton, and others, were necessarily detached for the pur- pose of covering the country ; and the army, now consisting of continentals alone, was burdened with the duty of at- tending upon nearly six hundred wounded, one half of whom were British : and this at the worst period of the year — when the heat was most excessive, when the acute fevers of the climate were most prevalent, and when ex- posure by night or day, however slight, was eminently full of peril. Yet his wounded and prisoners were to bo conveyed by water through a region of malaria. They were taken in boats up the Wateree, inhaling the fatal miasma of the swamps through which they passed, and suffering accordingly from their subtle and poisonous in- fluences. A muster at the American army at headquar- ters, ten days after the battle of Eutaw, could not have shown a thousand soldiers fit for duty. Greene has been reproached for moving from the " Hills," and attempting the enemy's post, at so early a period in the season. But we can not, at this late day, do full justice to his motives and necessities. The movement was probably necessary for the encouragement of his militia, and with the view to drive the enemy from a region in which the now rap- idly maturing harvests enabled him to supply his ex- hausted granaries. It was probably taken with the ad- vice of Governor Rutledge, at this time in the American Greene's condition. 30' camp, a gentleman admirably informed in the condition of the country, and to whose judgment Greene habitually deferred in' most local matters. Nor, indeed, when we regard the consequences of the movement, have we any reason to be dissatisfied. If the American army was enfeebled by the enterprise, its results were far more hurtful to the enemy. If the regulars were prostrated by sickness from taking the field in September, the mili- tia had been busy the whole summer, under Marion and Pickens, exposed to still worse hazards. In all proba- bility the main army suffered rather by its previous re- pose, than by its subsequent activity ; since all experi- ence has served to show that, in a southern climate like that of Carolina, the powers for physical resistance to the approaches of disease are far less easily sustained by a languid mode of life than by that which duly exercises the body and maintains a projDer vitality in the skin. Greene's army needed numbers rather than health, not snff*ering in this latter respect more than is ordinarily the case with armies in midsummer, whether in action or in camp. It was the militia system which kept him feeble, rather than the climate, and, at this very moment we find him complaining only of his numerical weakness, which forbade the efforts which his military judgment rendered him anxiously inclined to make. His eye was still fixed with yearning upon the career of Cornwallis in Vii-ginia. The very day on which the battle of Eutaw was fought, he received intelligence of the operations of the northern army against his ancient adversary, with the suggestion that, in the exigency of the latter, he would endeavor, by a forced march through North C arolina, to make his escape to Charleston. In this event, how could Greene, with the skeleton regiments of the southern army, arrest his retreat ? It was this force which alone would be relied upon for the attempt, yet,. 302 LIFE OF NATHAXAEL GUEENE. with what hope or jDrospect of success could it be used ? Still it was necessary to prepare for the event ; and, feeble as he was, Greene was well aware of the disastrous conse- quences which would result to the American cause, should Cornwallis with his division succeed once more in making his way into South Carolina. While mourning, according- ly, over his shattered columns, 'he yet meditated to throw himself across the path of the British general at all haz- ards, holding him at bay, if possible, until the army from Virginia could assist him in compassing the game. From his camp at the hills he could dart at any moment in the required direction, and this was a principal motive in re- suming his position at this point. Here he once more resumed those toilsome and seemingly little-profitable labors by which he hoped to arouse the contiguous coun- try to a sense of their duties and his necessities. The governors, lawyers, and chief men, of the neighboring states, were addressed with the thrice-told tale of priva- tion, and urged, with strenuous arguments and entreaties, in behalf of new and energetic movements for the relief and increase of the army proper. Again was the prayer for reinforcements almost desperately urged in quarters which had but too frequently listened with dull ear be- fore ; and thus passed the months of September and Oc- tober, with little relief to the monotony of labors which were compelled by a sense of duty ; but he was too often mortified by repulse not to feel in the performance much more weariness than hope. Meanwhile, Stuart had recovered from his panic. The report of the probability of Cornwallis's approach had reached him also, and had prompted him to a demonstra- tion, wliich was perhaps quite as much intended for the recovery of public opinion, as wdth the view to anymore important advantages. Collecting reinforcements from oelovv, and strengthening his cavalry, he pushed the STUART ADVANCi:S TO THE SANTEE. 30(^ Ameiican detachments from before his path, and once more advanced upon the Eutaws. Marion and Hampton were both compelled to retire across the rivers ; and the apprehension was felt that, should he cross the Santee, his power might be re-established. But he was proba- bly too feeble to venture so boldly, and the conjectures with regard to Cornwallis gradually gave way to other conclusions. Active measures were adopted by the gov ernors of Virginia and North Carolina to arrest his flight to the south ; and a movement of the loyalists in North Carolina, which had probably been inspirited by the reports in relation to Cornwallis, had been suppressed; while the subsequent evacuation of Wilmington lessened the apprehensions of the whigs of that neighborhood in relation to the futui-e. The British army, meanwhile, in South Carolina, had taken post at Fludd's plantation near Nelson's ferry. Its strength at this place, increased by reinforcements, consisted of more than two thousand men, not including a detachment of three hundred at Fair- lawn under M* Arthur. In addition to this, the loyal- ists from the upper country had been enrolled, either in- dependently or with the British regiments, and formed a considerable addition to their active infantry. Their cav- alry had now become superior to that of the Americans, in consequence of the severe handling which the latter had received recently*; and it was not until that of Sum- ter's brigade could be again brought together, with the wounded infantry of Marion, Horry, and Mayham, that the Buperiority of Greene in this arm could be restored. For a brief period, accordingly, Major Doyle, who had succeeded temporarily to the command of the British force on the Santee — Stuart still suffering from a wound received at Eutaw — exercised undivided authority over the country south of the Santee and Congaree, and west of the Edisto. He made hay during his brief period of 301 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. Bunsliine, sweeping off with greedy hands every negro young and old, that he could possibly gather into his clutches in this extensive territory. The presence of Marion, guarding every accessible point along the river, alone arrested him in his paternal desire to extend tl>e same covering arms over the opposite region. To protect the country as well as he could with his light troops, was all that Greene CDuld do. He had no force with which to confront that of the enemy. We have shown his condi- tion ten days after the battle of Eutaw. The approach of winter found it still more hazardous and discouraging. His troops were wanting the absolute neces- saries of life — medicines were wanting — salt had failed. For two years, the southern army had received no pay — no clothing — were often short in the usual allowance of meat and bread, and commonly subsisted without ardent spirits. Symptoms of mutiny were actually beginning to show themselves in camp, and a victim expiated upon the gallows his impatience under sufferings which had strictly followed the failure of the government to comply with its contracts. Greene could only sympathize and weep over misfortunes that he could not prevent. He strove to soothe the sufferings of his people — shared those sufferings — was early and late engaged in the work of tendance and watching — now in the ranks, now at the hospitals, encouraging by kind offices, entreating with gentle arguments, and, with a thousand anxieties mov- ing him to querulousness and impatience, subduing his own discontents that he might soften theirs. The supe- rior care of strengthening his army against the enemy, and in becoming employment, was necessarily his worst anxiety. Yet, in this work, he was constantly thwarted by others who were more considerate of the objects un- der their immediate eyes, than of those which were re- mote, hi)wever vital to the cause. We have seen how CONDITION OF THE SOUTHERN ARMY. 305 small had been the regard shown ly Congress and the north to the army of the south. Greene was destined, in nis moment of greatest necessity, to suffer from another proof of this selfish partiality. It was at the very moment when the time of service of the Virginia line was about to expire, with not a single recruit from that state on the march to supply its place, when he was advised that nis reinforcements from Maryland and Delaware, seven hundred in number, had been arrested and embodied with the army against Cornwallis. Yet these had been regarded as absolutely necessary to enable him to keep the field. He had voluntarily abandoned to Vir- ginia and Lafayette all other reinforcements. Yet, at this very time, the New England states had a countless multitude of troops on paper, myriads if we may believe the chronicles, and there was actually a force of six thousand Frenchmen operating with the army of Wash- ington and Lafayette against this very force of Lord Cornwallis. Well might the officers and soldiers of the southern army feel themselves abandoned, if not sacrificed. "Why struggle longer — they have abandoned us — let us yield the contest — let us retire." " Never," cried Greene with a noble constancy of purpose, as the mur- mur reached his ears: — "I will deliver this country or perish !" He was willing to meet all the peril, to make all the sacrifice, to continue the almost hopeless-seeming struggle to the last, unsupported, unassisted, if the stiTig- gle and the endurance were necessary for the safety of the country, and if that country could do nothing better for the cause. And yet he is compelled to remark in a letter to Washington — "I am told your force in Vir ginia amounts to little less than fifteen thousand men ; if so the Maryland troops will be of little or no conse- quence." His officers and men were not equally patient mill himself, and one of his chief labors was to quiei 306 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE. tliem. Fortunately, one of his subjects of anxiety WM soon to cease. On the 9th of November, the grateful intelligence reached the camp of the fall of Yorktown and the cap- lure ot Cornwallis, an event which had taken place fully twenty days before. The day was observed as a jubilee. All punishments were remitted, all prisoners discharged, and the few luxuries that were to be found in camp w^ere distributed with liberal hand, that no countenance might remain darkened at a moment when the occasion was so full of joy. It was now the hope of Greene that the French fleet and army might co-operate with him in an attempt on Charleston, and that the army which had cap- tured Cornwallis might be set in motion for the south. But the co-operation of the French commander could not be secured ; and, in respect to the northern army, those who knew with what difficulty the New England troops could be persuaded to approach Yorktown, could have but little expectation of persuading them still fur- ther south. They constituted about one third of Wash- ington's army; and the detachments sent to Greene were drawn entirely from the contingents of Maryland and Pennsylvania. These were confided to the command of General St. Clair and Wayne. They were now compelled, in midwinter, to traverse a weary extent of territory, and when they reached the camp of Greene, which they did not until the 4th of January, 1782, their number was less by one half than when it crossed the Potomac. Advised, however, of this promised reinforcement, upon which he was taught to build largely, Greene felt the necessity, at an early period in October, of resuming active operations. He was able, during this month, to replace the six-pounders which he had lost at the Eutaws, and was joined about this time by Colonels Shelby and Seviere with five hundred mountaineers; a detachmeni MOVEMENT OF THE PARTISANS. 307 of one hundred and sixty North-Carolina recruits was also added to his infantry; his wounded were recovering and able to take their place in the ranks, and the harvest being in and the cool weather beginning to prevail, the several commands of Sumter, Marion, and the other parti sans, had been collecting around their favorite leaders. The army once more began to assume that appear- ance of strength and order which promised usefulness and demanded employment. Seviere and Shelby, with Horry and Mayham, were placed under Marion, whose scene of operations was the country between the Santee and Charleston. Together they formed a very efficient command of cavalry, mounted infantry, and riflemen. Sumter, with his brigade of state troops, and some com- panies from his own, and the militia brigades of Pickens, was ordered to take post at Orangeburg, and to cover the country from the forays of the loyalists assembled in Charleston. Pickens, with two regiments, traversed the mountain frontiers, checking at all points the civil war, which ever and anon flamed up in that quarter; and over- awing the hostile Indians who were always in readiness to rise. These, several parties soon found employment and were kept watchful. Sumter's command was soon tasked to arrest the upward progress of General Cunningham, with a strong body of seven hundred loyalists, whose aim was to regain position in the upper country, and who, gain- in o- some advantages over one of Sumter's detachments, compelled the later to fall back to a position of greater security. The force of the two parties being nearly equal, they were employed for awhile as checks upon each other. Marion was also brought- to a halt by encountering Col- onel Stuart at Wan toot with a force of nearly two thou- sand men, a force quite too great to be attempted by a command so inferior as that of our partisan. Stuart's 303 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. object was provisions and plunder. Anticipating the siege of Charleston, naturally, as the result of the fall of York- town, and the leisure which that event must afford to the army and the navy of the French, he was diligently ac- cumulating supplies; including, in this category, thousands of slaves, who were useful in the laborious work of forti- fying the place, and, in the event of its fall, profitable as plunder in the West India markets. The British were still superior to the Americans in number ; but the moral of their army had been greatly impaired by recent events. The affair at the Eutavvs, had grievously lessened their enterprise, while it had shown in the native militia an audacity and hardihood, which greatly encouraged their own, and the hopes of their leaders. With an ample commissariat, Greene could have attempted boldly ; but the very shifts to which his necessities reduced him were of a kind to impair the virtues of his soldiers and to les- sen their efficiency in all respects. In the ordnance and quartermaster's departments everything was wanting. There was no ammunition — half of the troops were with- out tents — there were no axes, few camp-kettles, and, until this period, no canteens. Mere valor, courage, and constancy, in the soldiers, were of little avail under these deficiencies. The moral sufficed to encourage their general in a bold demonstration, and his reliance was rather upon this moral, and upon its inferiority in the enemy, than upon any of the substantial resources by which an army's victories are won. But it was useless to repine at wants which no complaining could supply; and it was Greene's hope to remedy, by energy and skill, the defects of fortune. On the ISth of November, the camp on the hills was again broken up and the army set in motion for below. The line of march led by Simons' and ]\rCord's ferries, through Orangeburg to Riddle- «purgers, and thence by the Indian Field road where RETREAT OF STUART. 309 that road crosses the Edisto to Ferguson's mill. The design of Greene was to take post on the Four Holes, for tne twofold pui-pose of covering the country beyond him and controlling the operations of the enemy on his right. To secure the army in this progress, Marion, sup- ported by Captain Eggleston with the legion, strengthen- ed by a detachment of the Virginia line, was ordered to keep in check the force under Stuart. Without this se- curity on his left, Greene would scarcely have ventured upon a position so much exposed to an attack from Charleston. But Marion was suddenly stripped of a large portion of his detachment by the desertion of his mount- aineers, to whom, at this moment, the employment was not sufficiently active, and who, becoming discontented, had gone off in a body. This was a loss of five hundred men at a moment's warning, and after a service of three weeks, in which Fairlawn was captured, and the tributary posts on Cooper river disquieted by frequent demonstra- tion, to which the disappearance of the mountaineers put a sudden finish. But for the vast proportion on the sick list of the British troops under Stuart, the flight of the mountaineers would have seriously compromised the safe- ty of Marion, operating as he did in the neighborhood of the post which the former occupied. Fortunately for Greene and Marion, the movement of the former across the Congaree, had alarmed the British general for his own safety. He seems not to have sus- pected the feebleness of the one or the difficulties and deficiencies of the other, and no doubt still apprehended from the appearance of a French fleet upon the coast. He. was prompted to strike his tents and draw off toward Charleston. This movement, evincing a complete ignor ance of the condition of the Americans, and a conscious- ness of his own weakness, encouraged Greene to an enter- prise which was calculated to confirm all the false impres* 310 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. sions of the enemy, and, by forcing him within the walls of Charleston, to secure possession of the wliole country without striking a blow. This was an important object, as, at this very juncture, Govenior Rutledge was about to re-establish the American authority by calling the legislature into existence. Proclamations were already issued for the general election of members. Confiding the army, still on its march, to the care of Colonel Williams, Greene moved briskly forward on the route to Dorchester at the head of four hundred men, cavalry and infantry. The cavalry consisted of Lee's and Washington's commands, and a hundred men from Sumter's. The infantry, including detachments from the lines of Maryland and Virginia, was that of the legion, Greene flattered himself with the hope that, in addition to his other objects,he should surprise Dorchester. For this purpose he scattered his cavalry abroad with the view to cut off intelligence, covering as large a space in his front as possible. With the same object he pursued dif- ficult and obscure routes, by swamp and unsuspected paths, wherever these could be found. But, in spite of these precautions and the celerity of his movements, the garrison at Dorchester was apprized of his coming. There were too many lurking tories in the swamp thickets, too many outlying negroes, who knew the value of such intelligence, not to seek for its reward. The tidings of his approach reached the British twelve hours in advance of himself They lay on their arms at Dorchester all night, and, on the next morning, despatched a reconnoitring party of fifty loyalists which fell into the hands of Colonel Hampton's horse, who suffered few to escape. The re- port of the fugitives, brought out the whole body of the British cavalry at the post. These were accompanied by a strong detachment of infantry. Hampton soon ap- peared and dartod upon this force consisting chiefly of ALARM IN rilE BRITISH ARMY. 311 loyalists. They slirunk from tlie encounter and succeed- ed in making their way back into the garrison ; but not without losing, killed, wounded, and taken, some thirty of their number. The presence of the commander of the American army at once inspired the garrison with a belief that his whole force was approaching. With this convit3tion, they destroyed their stores that night, flung their cannon into the Ashley, and commenced their re- treat for Charleston. Destroying a contiguous bridge in their flight, they arrested the pursuit of Greene, who, in- deed, was by no means inclined to press it, since the in- fantry of the enemy, alone, exceeded five hundred in num- ber. They halted at the Quarter-house, less than six miles from Charleston, where they were joined by Colonel Stuart with his command. Here, active preparations were begun for the purpose of resisting the advance of the Americans. Rumor had so magnified the strength of Greene, that, in addition to the regiments which could be spared from the garrison at Charleston, the British general Leslie proceeded to the desperate measure of enrolling and arming the negroes. They were stripped of their uniforms as soon as the panic was at rest. Greene had attained his object. No demonstration could have been more brilliant or more successful. His ruse had completely deceived the enemy. At this mo- ment when Stuart was flying before him, when Leslie was marshalling into line, in very desperation, his sable regiments, the American general had not in camp eight hundred men, and, after supplying with ammunition his different detachments, the army had not four rounds left to a man. Well had he deserved the applauses which this enterprise procured him. Williams writes : " Your success at Dorchester would make your enemies hate themselves, if all circumstances were generally known • and the same knowledge would make your friends ad 312 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. mire the adventure even more than they do." This was the sentiment of the army. General Washington, wri- ting to Laurens of the affair, remarks : " This brilliant manoeuvre is another proof of the singular abilities which that officer [Greene] possesses." On the 7th of December, Greene rejoined his army wliich had taken post at Saunders' plantation on the Round O. He now made his arrangements for keeping the ground which he had won. Marion, advancing still nearer to Charleston, kept the right of the enemy in check ; Sumter, occupied Orangeburg and the Four-Hole bridge ; W. Hampton with a detachment of state caval- ry kept open the communication with Marion ; Colonels Harden and Wilkinson watched the movements of the. enemy along the tract of country lying between Charles- ton and Savannah ; while Lee, in command of the light detachment, posted in advance, kept him from prying into the real weakness of the American army. To watch and wait was all that could be done at present, and while the ammunition of the army did not suffice to fill the car- touch-boxes of the soldiers. It was a redeemino: circum- stance that Greene was now encamped in a fertile region where rice was in abundance, and where the ranges for cat- tle were excellent. Here he had room and time for medi- tation. His thoughts, those excepted which belonged to a consciousness of cares firmly borne and duties faith- fully performed, were not of the most grateful descrip- tion. His reinforcements under St. Clair and Wayne had not yet made their appearance, and advices were received of a British fleet from Ireland, with three thou- sand troops on board, within two days* sail of Charleston, to be followed by another force of two thousand from New York. There was no reason to discredit this in- telligence ; and Greene at once felt that any such force «n his present circumstances, would expel him from the GREEN1:'S RKFLECTIONS AT ROUND O. 313 country. His labor seemed to have been taken in vain. Again the necessity rose before his imagination, for the renewal of all those toilsome marches and countermarches, those anxious days and nights, and weeks, and months, of watch, and vigilance, exposure, trial, suffering ; the defeat of hope, the mockery of expectation; the constant disappointment of cherished anticipations, and the as frequent defeat of well-laid schemes ; which had followed from the miserable system which had decreed him to the manufacture of bricks without an adequate supply of straw. The British were at work restoring their fortifi- cations, collecting provisions, organizing the loyalists, in- corporating the slaves into their ranks, preparing, in short, for a desperate and final struggle, which, in the event of their expulsion from the other states, would leave them secure in the possession of Georgia and Carolina. In the presence of these facts, Greene conceived the idea of recruiting his regiments with negroes also. He had witnessed their fidelity to their masters, their patient do- cility, and, with a knowledge of their capacity for physi- cal endurance, as well of the climate as of ordinary labor, he assumed that discipline would do the rest in coiivert- ing them into valuable soldiers. His proposition was submitted to the governor and council and through them to the legislature. It was rejected by that body, and the American general was forced to cast about him for other means of encountering his enemy. Fortunately, his mind was soon relieved in regard to these reported reinforce- ments. The formidable body of three thousand troops from Ireland was diminished to some sixty artillerists ; while the force from New York, consisted of two regi- ments with a squadron of dragoons one hundred and fifty in number. Greene took heart. Though disquiet- ed at any addition to the enemy's strength, while his own 14 314 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENS. remained as feeble as before, he was determined to main- tain his ground against the present army of the British. He declared himself in his letters resolved to fight, and so to fight, as, if beaten, to " make the wounds of the en- emy sufficient to prevent his pursuit.* CHANGE OF BRITISH TACTICS. 315 CHAPTER XXII. American Attempt on the British Post at John's Island. — Its Failure- Second Attempt. — Withdrawal of the Garrison. — The Legislature as Bembles at Jacksonborough. — Its Character. — Governor Rutledge. — His Speech. — Compliments Greene. — Address of the Senate and House of Representati%"es to Greene. — The latter Body votes him Ten Thousand Guineas. — Liberality of Georgia and North Carolina. The drawn battle at Eutaw, in spite of all the subse quent struggles of the British, was really fatal to their power in Carolina. It broke down their spirit, dimin- ished their resources, discouraged their friends, and, in due degree, increased the energy and enthusiasm of their enemies. From this period the real endeavors of the British leaders and their tory allies seem to have been addressed to the acquisition of spoils. Anticipating the approaching necessity which should compel them to aban- don the pleasant places in which they had luxuriated so long, they proceeded to " borrow from the Egyptians" in a style less courteous than that which the Israelites em- ployed. The movement of Stuart toward the Santee and that of the loyalists about the same time toward the upper country, were designed for like objects, and hence the importance of the demonstration made by the Amer- ican general, in his rapid progress toward Dorchester. The effect of that progress was to arrest the spoiler in his employment ; to force him to forego the further hope of plunder in the region which he then occupied, and to hurry below with his sick and wounded, crowding them mto the already crowded limits of the city. The forcen taiG LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENB. of the British were now cooped up within the narrow limits of "the Neck" — the suburb of the city lying be- tween the rivers Cooper and Ashley, and extending some SIX miles only into the country — and the islands which lie adjacent to the metropolis. Their whole army had really become only a garrison for Charleston. To diminish this area by all possible means, Greene conceived the plan of expelling them from John's island, where they still maintained a considerable detachment under Craig. This measure was conceived to be neces- sary, m order to give proper security to the legislature, now about to assemble at Jacksonborough. This little village lies on the Edisto, and within easy striking dis- tance from the island in question. John's island, in ad- dition to the detachment under Craig, was guarded at every accessible point by galleys carrying guns of heavy calibre. It was ascertained that there was one point of approach to the island, which, at certain periods of the tide, was accessible. Here, at low water, the passage might be forded ; and, to cover this point, two well- manned galleys had been stationed within four hundred yards of each other. It was also ascertained that the passage was not watched with any great degree of vigi- lance, and the attempt upon the island was confided to Colonels Lee and Laurens. The enterprise was one of difficulty and peril, and the movements of the assailing party were required to be made at night. To divert the attention of the enemy from the real point of attack, the main army moved on the I2th of January, 1782, on the route to Wallace's bridge. Two light detachments, mean- while, under Laurens, crossing the country from Ashley river, headed the north branch of the Stono on the night of the 13th, and advanced to "New-Cut," which is at the head of the south branch. The main army, which had halted on the night of the 12th, as if for the purpose ATTEMPT ON JOHN's ISLAND. 31'" of encampment, was, however, once more put in motion, soon after dark, and, followincr the route of the lig;ht de- tachments, with the view to supporting them, reached the New-Cut before the hour of low water, at which period only is the ford passable. Here Greene found his at- tacking party in a state of embarrassment. This select body of troops had been separated into two columns on the march, Lee's column being in advance, and Laurens in person accompanying it. The other column was con- fided to Major Hamilton, and, not moving at the same time with the former, a guide had been left with it to show the route. No mistake was apprehended, but the guide disappeared while on the march, having probably lost his way, and being ashamed or afraid of the conse- quences of his error. The column under Laurens was passed over to the island, in the meanwhile, in perfect safety, and there awaited the approach of that under Ham- ilton. It was not in sufficient strength to attempt the assault without the support of its associate, Craig's force being well posted, numbering five hundred men, and covered by the galleys, which, in the event of an alarm, could ef- fectually cut off the retreat of the assailants and prevent them from receiving help by the only avenue of approach. And this avenue was about to be closed. The tide was now rising, and nothing had been done. It became neces- sary to recall the detachment of Laurens, before its retreat should be cut off, and the order to this effect, delayed to the last possible moment, was at length reluctantly given. The tide was now running breast high, and a few min- utes' longer pause would have compromised the safety of the party. They recrossed, vexed and disappointed, just as day was breaking, and had scarcely regained the main when they discovered the lost column straggling into sight, having been wandering about all night in the vain effort to resume the road from which it had igno 3l8 LIFE OP NATIIANAEL GREENE. rantly gone astray. The annoyance was equally great to all parties. It was one of those mischances, however, which occasion no reproach. The best zeal and cour- age are thus sometimes thrown away, through ignorance or want of fidelity in inferior agents. But the object was quite too important to be aban- doned without another effort. The garrison might be destroyed ; it was necessary that it should be removed, and there were sjioils of value to be acquired. Here the British had their pastures, and a large number of cattle had been accumulated, which would be quite as useful to an American as a British commissariat. Greene re- solved on forcing his passage to the island. A boat was brought on wagons, and, while his artillery drove the gal- leys from the station which they occupied, was launched by a party under Colonel Laurens, who passed over to the island. He penetrated to Craig's encampment, but the bird had flown. The British had become acquainted with the narrowness of their escape the night before, and had fled, but so precipitately as to leave several strag- glers ; while the schooner which they had laden with their baggage, and a hundred invalids, had nearly fallen into Laurens's hands. Their cattle had been driven across the river to the opposite island, or were scattered in the woods. The enterprise had been only in part successful. Carried out as it had been planned, the affair would have been equally brilliant .and profitable. Still, the purpose of Greene had been attained : the post had been wrested from the enemy, their field of operations circum- scribed, and all chances of peril to the legislature, during its proposed session, from any sudden entei-prise of the British, were fairly at an end. The assembly at Jacksonborough convened on the lStl» of January. The civil authority of the state was estab- lished under the protection of the army. For that mat- OPERATIONS IN GEORGIA. 319 ter, it was as much a military as a civil body, the mem- bers, in the majority of cases, being those who had car- ried and still continued to carry arms, in defence of the country. Greene took post with the army at Skirving's plantation, six miles in advance of Jacksonborough, on the road leading to Charleston. This was on the 16th, two days before the opening of the session. He had, a few days before, been joined by the long-expected detachments un- der St. Clair and Wayne. The Virginia line had been dismissed, and the reinforcements did little more than sup- ply their place. Believing, however, that the war was virtually at an end in South Carolina, and that its close would be a simple act of withdrawal, at an early period, of the remains of the British power from the country — assured, at all events, that, with the force which he pos- sessed, and the partisan militia, he should be quite able to maintain his ground against the present strength of the British within the state — Greene determined to direct his attention to the recovery of Georgia. The enemy at this time possessed no foothold in the interior of Georgia. His possessions, after the fall of Augusta, had been chiefly confined to the seaboard. His vessels swept the coast from Charleston and Savannah to St. Augustine, without impediment; but his only garrisoned posts in the coun- try, besides Savannah, were at Ebenezer and Ogeechee. Of these he was soon dispossessed by the partisan militia under Twiggs and Jackson ; but the country was still traversed by armed bands of tories, and parties from Florida, mixed savages and whites. To strike at Savan- nah, which was the centre of strength and energy to these wandering parties, and to disperse these parties also, Greene despatched General Wayne, soon after his arrival in camp, with a force consisting of the third regi ment of dragoons and a detachment of artillery. He was to assume command of the American army in Georgia, 320 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GEEENE. Hampton's cavalry was also placed at his disposal, and the militia of Carolina along the Savannah river, under General Barnwell, were ordered to co-operate with him whenever called upon. It was impossible, with the in- feriority of his own army, to do more for the sister state than he had done. He was considered as perilling him- self and the legislature, by stripping himself of these de- tachments ; the more particularly, as the assembling of this body, within hearing of his posts, had given great offence to the British general, who only waited for rein- forcements " to resent the insult of conveninir the leo^is- lature to sit and deliberate within hearing of his reveille^ It is not within our province to review the legislation of this assembly, at this renewal of its civil obligations, un- der the peculiar circumstances in which we find it placed. That the members should have legislated in all respects temperately and wisely is scarcely to be expected at this juncture, laboring as they did under a thousand excite- ments and provocations, and fresh from the army with- out venturing to unbrace the sabre from the side. The convocation of this body had become necessary for the restoration of civil order, for the raising of supplies, the organization of the militia, the very afety of the army. It was necessary, also, with regard to the anticipated evacuation of the city, for the prevention of waste and plunder. For two years the government of the state, where the country was not in the grasp of the enemy, had been solely confided to the individual will and judg- ment of John Rutledge, its governor. Powers had been conferred upon liim to see that the republic sustained no harm. The large discretion thus confided to this remark- able man, were in no instance abused or suffered to rust from non-user. He liad traversed the country at all pe- riods, in all difficulties, shared the perils and fortunes of the army for many months, and exercised an equal RESTORATION OF CIVIL ORDER. 321 coiisLaiicy and ingenuity in enduring privation and pro. viding against emergency. He brought to the necessi ties of the army the sanction of the civil power, and rec onciled to many of the extremities of martial service the high-spirited and impatient volunteers, who are but too apt to suspect the military arm of tyranny and injustice. To restore the power which he had sivayed to the peo- ple from whom it was obtained — to render an account of his administration — to recall the exiles to their homes — to encourage them with hopes of peace and indepen- dence — to organize the links of society once more — to bring back obedience to the laws, and reconcile with prosperity and order those liberties for which all the struggle had been taken — was, equally with Greene and Rutledge, a duty and desire. Their responsibilities had been no less heavy than their distinctions had been high ; and it was with feelings of equal pride and relief that they welcomed to the halls of council the citizens who had been so long scattered abroad in dismay and appre hension. The long interval between the fall of Charleston, in 1780, and the present moment, had been one of terrible vicissitudes and the most humiliating necessities. The state had been overborne in the conflict; their regular troops cut up in frequent conflict, and finally made cap- tive ; their partisan militia still maintaining the unequal conflict whenever the odds of the combat would allow, and, under favorite leaders, preserving the spirit of lib- erty and a determined resistance, without other motive than the love of country ; and this without pay, or pro- visions, or clothing, or any supplies needful to the spirit as well as the strength of a soldiery. They had seen their brethren in exile and captivity — wandering as fu- gitives in swamp and thicket, seeking to elude the blood hounds set upon their path by the conqueror, or crowded 14* 322 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. by thousands into the narrow hold of the prison-ship, sweltering with heat and pestilence, and perishing of the most loathsome diseases. Armies furnished by their sis- ter states of the south had been cut off by the rashness of their generals ; other armies had been barely kept alive and in safety by a prudence that dared venture nothing in the inferiority of their numbers, and in the neglect of those authorities which failed to provide for the necessities of their starving and naked regiments. But courage and perseverance, constancy and patriot- ism, had at length succeeded in enduring and in triumph- ing over all. The bow of promise was arched above the land, and the billows of invasion were slowly but cer- tainly receding from the shores on every side. Well might the noble partisan lift his forehead as he passed from the camp to the council-board, with the gratified sense of a duty well performed and a peril nobly defied and undergone. Nor were the soldiers who met on this occasion, to restore to South Carolina the aegis of law and order, merely men of arms and blood, stern and res- olute, with wills made stubboni by habitual authority, and souls set only on its retention and maintenance. The body which assembled at Jacksonborough were men sin- gularly distinguished for talent and moderation ; they were citizens first and last — soldiers only under the exi- gency which denied that they should be citizens of a free state. No people could have assembled in better spirit or temper, more disposed to be considerate of the claims of others, or more indulgent even to their enemies. That they erred in one respect seems to be admitted ; but we are scarcely in the situation now to determine of the ne- cessities which at that period compelled men to put on the severe aspects of resentment and indignation, parti;- ularly as the enemy still threatened from his fortresses, and still the outlawed tory, leagued with the hireling sav governor's address. 323 age to desolate the frontier. If the legislature of Jack* soiiborough seemed to be vindictive in one of its meas- ures, we are not to forget the extent of its provocation, and the dangers which still beset the country, and ren- dered severity to some the source of security to others, who might otherwise have provoked punishment by pre- suming on indulgence. The governor, in his opening address — a masterly performance, which reviewed the history of the interim with a comprehensive and impartial judgment — ^conclu- ded with a high eulogium upon the conduct of Greene and the troops under him. " I can now," said he, " con- gratulate you, and I do so cordially, in the pleasing change of affairs, which, under the blessing of God, the wisdom^ prudence, address, and bravery, of the great and gallant General Greene, and the intrepidity of the officers and men under his command, has been happily effected." He urged the claims of Greene " to honorable and singular mai'ks of our ajiprobation and gratitude." — "His suc- cesses," continued the orator, "have been more raj^id and complete than the most sanguine could have ex- pected. The enemy, compelled to surrender or evacu- ate every post which they held in the country, frequently defeated and driven from place to place, are obliged now to seek refuge under the walls of Charleston and on the islands in its vicinity. We have now full and absolute possession of every part of the state ; and the legislative, judicial, and executive powers are in the free exercise of their respective authorities." The tone and spirit of the governor's eulogy on Greene were met by a corresponding sentiment on the part of both houses of the legislature. They expressed them- selves in terms of equal praise and gratitude. The sen- ate declared itself " impressed with a high sense of the **minent services" v^rhich he had rendered to the country, S2i LIFE OF N/VTilANAEL GREENE. and unanimously voted liim tlieir thanks, in behalf of the state, ** for the distinguished zeal and generalship which he had displayed on every occasion, particularly during the last campaign." They expressed themselves sensi- ble of the many disadvantages under which he took com- mand of the army ; and tliat it was to his ** superior mili- tary genius and enterprising spirit ivere to be attributed the blessings" which their people now enjoyed — the res toration of their country, and the securities of a free con- stitution. The house expressed itself in like manner, but gave an additional proof of its gratitude by originating a bill " for vesting in General Nathanael Greene, in con- sideration of his important services, the sura of ten thou- \ sand guineas," This liberality was of great importance '; to Greene. He was poor. He had left the smithy for j the camp. His paternal property, originally small, had i not improved in value during his absence, and, in fact, ' his private resources had been consumed by the exigen- cies of hi.a public station. He was probably, when this grant was made, not worth a copper in the world. The gift of South Carolina, the spontaneous acknowledgment of her gi'atitude for his services and sacrifices in her cause, came to him at a seasonable moment, to lighten his heart of its anxieties, ami relieve him of the harassing doubts which prompted him continually to inquire of himself, from what quarter, the war being over, should he find the means to support a large and growing family. But the liberality of South Carolina was fruitful of other and similar results. It furnished the proper examj^le to Georgia and North Carolina, These states were not to be outdone, though anticipated, in generosity. The foi- raer voted ti him five thousand guineas, and the latteJ Ivvonty-foir thousand acres of land. fTAl'NE IN GEORGIA. 32.5 CHAPTER XXIIL The State of the Army. — Wayne's Victories in Georgia. — Discontents among the Troops of Greene. — Treachery of Soldiers of the Pennsylva- nia Line. — Their Detection and Punishment. — Continued Disti-ess and Sickness of the Amiy. — Movements of the British. — Marion defeats Fraser. — Affair on the Comhahee. — Death of Laurens. — Pickens punishes the Tories and the Lidians. Leaving the legislature free to pursue its delibera- tions, and heedful only to make it secure while doing so, Greene continued to watch his enemy with a patient anx- iety that suffered nothing of consequence to escape his attention. The British afforded him very few opportu- nities for enterprise. His resources were quite too small to suffer him to attempt anything of magnitude, and they gave him but few provocations to activity in minor mat- ters. They no longer exhibited that impatient desire for performance which had marked their character in the previous campaign, and their endeavors wei"^ confined to small predatory incursions, for the collection of plun- der or provisions. The war was really transferred to Georgia. Here Wayne was acquiring laurels daily, pres- sing the enemy on every hand, cutting off his supplies, and sweeping the loyalists from before his face with an unsparing besom. In a little while the British were con- fined entirely within the precincts of Savannah ; and the Georgians, following the example of South Carolina, re- oi ganized their legislative assembly at Ebenezer, within hearing of the British reveille at Savannah, and under the protection of the American army. The result cf WayneV 3:^») LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. activity was shortly to compel the evacuation of Savan- nah, an event which increased the number of Greene's enemies in Charleston, since the garrison of the former city, nearly a thousand men, was transferred to the latter. This event rendered necessary the return of Wayne's tro:)ps to South Carolina, where, during the progress of events in Georma, affairs had befrun to assume a less en- couraging aspect. A variety of unfortunate incidents, which may all be traced to the positive weakness of the army in Carolina, had subjected Marion's command, in the absence of that general at headquarters, or in attend- ing on the legislature, to some vexatious reverses; the result of which was, to lay open the whole country from the Edisto to the Santee to the incursions of the enemy. This region of country had been confided to the keeping of Marion's bricjade. In Marion's absence, the brior-ade was under the command of Horry. A question of rank between this gentleman and Colonel Mayham, who was ranked by Horry, led to the absence of that cordial co- operation between the two which alone could insure the usefulness of the command. Before this quarrel could be settled, the British had obtained several slight suc- cesses over some of the parties of the brigade, and finally in Mayham's absence with his horse, the brigade itself was surprised and dispersed at Wambaw, by a sudden movement from Charleston, up Cooper river, of a strong detachment of horse, foot, and artillery, under Colonel Thomson, afterward the celebrated Count Rumford. A subsequent attempt upon the cavalry of this detachment, made by Mayham's horse, under the lead of Marion, was wholly unsuccessful, arising from an unhappy error of the officer who led his column to the charge. Marion's force was thus temporarily dispersed, with a serious loss in arms and horses. His presence, however, sufficed to biing them once more around him in considerable num« LAW PROHIBITING IMPRESSMENTS. 327 bers, and to restore confidence among them. The ap- proach of Colonel Laurens to his assistance, with a de- tachment from the army, soon compelled the British to retire, with the stock and provisions which they had been able to procure, and which, quite as much as the attempt on the brigade, had been the object of the expedition. General Leslie, indeed, had begun to be exceedingly straitened in Charleston by the cordon which had sepa- rated him from the country. He had been already com- pelled to butcher the horses of a large portion of his cav- alry, which he was no longer in the condition to feed ; and his enterprises were scarcely prompted by any object more inspiring than that of a present necessity. There was no longer, indeed, a motive for enterprise, beyond the support of the garrison. The British ministry were evi- dently about to forego a contest of which their people were heartily tired. The approach of peace was scarcely to be doubted, and it is not improbable that Leslie's instruc- tions were to economize his strength and resources, and peril nothing further in a conflict in which the hope of triumph was at an end. An occasional foraging party issued from the garrison of Charleston, and, havintr snatched up its prey, hurried back to the shelter of their lines with a rapidity which mostly mocked pursuit. The winter wore away in this manner. The legisla- ture of South Carolina, meanwhile, had adjourned. John Mathews had been elected a govenior in place of Rut- ledge, who retired. Mathews was friendly to Greene and to the army ; and so, indeed, were most of the mem- bers composing the assembly. It was not, therefore, with any wish to embarrass the operations of the army, that a law was passed prohibiting impressments. This put an end to foraging. To provide the army with all necessa- ry supplies, the governor was empowered to take order. A law was enacted requiring that he should, from time? 328 ^-IFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. to time, appoint a sufficient number of fit and proper persons, in different parts of the state, as agents or com- missioners, to procure their supplies. All other persons were strictly forbidden to do so. It was no doubt ne- cessary to arrest the unlicensed foraging, which but too much prevailed, under the alleged necessities of the army, to the distress and impoverishment of the country. But the support of the army was thus made to depend up- on commissioners appointed by another authority than that which could determine upon its wants, and who, if incompetent to perform their duties, could only be removed by the appointing power. Meanwhile, the sol- diers had no means of procuiing supplies. If the com- missioner failed them, they must starve and suffer. The commissioner did fail them. In a little time the army was in great distress. The troops were frequently with- out provisions. Greene remonstrated with the governor, but could not shake his confidence in the person he em- ployed. The army continued to suffer, soothed by en- treaties and occasional full supplies, or subdued by se- verities, which their impatient discontents seemed to provoke. They could plead, in mitigation of their of- fences, the extremity of their wants. Their nakedness and wretchedness might well excuse their excitements. A very large proportion of them were actually without clothes. The tattered fragments were kept together by thorns of the locust, their substitute for pins and needles ; and happy was the wretch who could piece his rags with the refuse of others, better clad, which his better fortune threw in his way. The old troops of Greene bore up bravely under their privations, but the additions to his irmy, brought by St. Clair, were not calculated to im- prove its morale. The Pennsylvania line was composed of the very mutineers who had triumphed over govern* ment in the Jersey insurrection. There was in it, in* ARMY ENCAMPED AT BACON's BRIDGE. 329 dcod, one of the sergeants who had been put in com- mand of the regiments in that mutiny, with a number of others of like character who had deserted from the Brit- ish while he had possession of Philadelphia. These wretches were ripe for any mischief, and they were suffi- ciently practised to refine upon it. The soldiers, brought to the verge of mutiny before their arrival, by their dis- tress and misery, were not helped by their connexion. We shall shortly see the fruits of it. With the adjouniment of the legislature, the army of G-reene moved from Skirving's down to Bacon's bridge, on Ashley river. Here he was within twenty miles of the enemy, within striking distance, and accessible by land and water. His securities from any entei'prise of the British lay in the latter's sluggishness and his own cau- tion rather than Greene's strength. He was yet to appre- ciate the element of mischief, within his own camp, of which he had certainly made no calculation while esti- mating his securities. But, with the opening of spring, it became obvious that a new life was beginning to pre- vail in the Charleston garrison. Greene was well pro- vided with spies in that city, some of whom, indeed, were persons of no small notoriety. The vigilance of Marion had made this provision, and his judgment of character had secured him against deception. These were now busier than ever, since there was much to report, the se- cret of which they could not wholly fathom. A new spirit was evidently at work in the British army, signifi- cant of objects of importance which could not yet be con- jectured. Designs were on foot upon which large cal- culations were founded. There was an organization of troops, mostly picked men, under select officers. The note of preparation was sounded keenly, though in sub* dued accents, and all things betokened an enterprise on foot which showed that, if compelled to give up their 330 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GEEENE. conquests, the British were not unwilling to crown the humiliating necessity by some redeeming and orilliant perfoiTnance. These movements were all conveyed to Greene. Ho readily conjectured their import. He was sensible equally of the condition of his army, and of the demoralizing influence which had been at work, for some time, to im- pair its usefulness and inci ease its discontents. He was by no means ignorant of the refuse character of a con- siderable portion of his late reinforcements. Besides, he was no longer surrounded by those veteran troops who had traversed with him, in weary march and counter- march, the wildernesses of North Carolina — who had fought with him at Guilford, at Hobkirk's, and at Eu- taw. His well-tried officers were with him no longer. Williams had returned to Maryland ; Howard still suf- fered from his wounds ; Wayne was still gathering lau- ]-els in Georgia ; St. Clair had obtained leave of absence ; the partisans were all operating in detachments ; Marion on the left ; Pickens among the Indians, while Sumter had retired in disgust. The legion of Lee was almost stripped of its officers, Lee himself having retired, like Sumter, in disgust and dissatisfaction. Greene felt his danger from his deficiencies. These, at once, led him to suspect the source and secret of his danger, and of the enemy's projected enterprise. His fears were still more enlivened by the discontents and bickerings among many of his remaining officers. Re- viewing his condition, the materials of his army, its ne- cessities and discontents, and the various signs which could not entirely escape him, his quick instincts asso- ciated the designs of the British with the discontents among his troops. But how these were to operate, he had no knowledge. He could only renew his diligence, his watch, his circumspection, and put in exercise all the MUTINY OF THE PENNSYLVANIA LINE. 331 agents upon which he could rely for security against mis- hap. Meanwhile, treason was busy in his camp. His Pennsylvania mutineers, such as had been conspicuous in Jersey, had opened a communication with the enemy. Their discontents were known to the British, and their promises and demands were heard with greedy attention. They were to sell Greene and his army — what the price and what the process, have never been accurately known — and the object was quite too important to the desper- ate cause of the invader to make him scruple at the scheme, or the conditions upon which it was to be pros- ecuted. Sergeant Gornell was at the head of the con- spiracy. He had entered upon it with equal skill and secrecy. He seems to have been an adept in the busi- ness, and his plans were almost matured for execution. A day was fixed upon when a mutinous demonstration of the Pennsylvanians was to be covered and counte- nanced by the sudden appearance, in force, of the British army. We have seen that the preparations of the latter were of a nature to render the scheme successful, should it once be permitted to attain full ripeness in the Ameri- can camp. Fortunately, it was destined that such should not be the case. The conspirators had grown insolent from im- punity, and, in degree as they became confident of suc- cess, they grew careless of the means of security. Their mutinous language reached the ears of their superiors and increased their vigilance. An attempt to work upon the fidelity of the Maryland line, was the first clue to their secret machinations, and the keen ears of a woman, one of the followers of the camp, arrived at other clues, which conducted to the conspiracy. This was all that was required to enable justice to decide upon her vic- tims. The vigilant eyes of Greene had already fastened upon tlie doubtful persons, and his prompt decision an0 LIFE OF NATIIANAIM. GUEENE. inents, made when all the facts were fresh in the public mind, proved him to be equally patriotic and unfortunate, and, without preferring a claim to the immediate inter- ference of Congress, left it to their sense of right to de- termine, whether the losses incurred in their cause, should not be met by their justice and liberality. This was his last official communication to his government. It pre- sents the spectacle, at once noble and painful, of a man wko has faithfully served his country, modestly prefer- l/iTig a claim, which, however humbled by misfortune, he yet disdains to solicit. FURTHER ANNOYANCES. 3ol CHAPTER XXV. His llemoval to Georgia.— Challenged by Captain Gunn.— He dec!!/ifti the Challenge. — The Extent, Prospect, Peace and Beauty of bis iSo- mains. — His Sickness and Death. — Public Sorrow and Honors oa tii* Event. — His Character. — Conclusion. Greene's annoyances from the failure of Banks, con- tinued to the end of his life. But these were not all. Scarcely had he reached his new abode in Georgia, when a personal difficulty assailed him which he had no reason to anticipate. He was waited on by Colonel Jackson, as the friend of Captain Gunn, who demanded redress for a supposed injury done to himself by Greene, while the latter was in command of the southern army. The offence arose from a habit which but too much prevailed among the dragoons, of seizing and keeping the horses of the public or of their own troopers. By the constitution of the corps each officer was required to provide his own horse, and an allowance was made him, in money, to enable him to do so. But, as the government finally failed altogether in making payment to the troops, the officers of cavalry, when they lost their own horses, did not scruple to dismount their troopers at pleasure, or ap- propriated such horses as were procured for the public sei-vice. Abuses still more gross had resulted from this license, and there were very few officers who did not keep from one to three horses. Captain Gunn, whose challenge to the field of personal combat, awaited Greene on bis arrival in Georgia, had improved upon the system, S52 LIFE OF NATIIANAEL GREENE. He had excliangecl a public horse with a brother officer, for which he had received two other horses and a slave. Greene brought him to trial for this offence, and he was compelled to make restitution for the liorse. His present demand was based upon Greene's proceedings in the case. Greene had been brought up in l school which did not tolerate duelling. Fortunately for liis reputation as a man of personal courage, that was sufficiently well- known, to render necessary any resort to this means, for securing him in the respect of his neighbors. But he placed his refusal to meet with Gunn, on other grounds, and, after a clear and correct narrative of the whole af- fair, which he gave to Colonel Jackson, he concluded with declaring his resolution never to sanction the call of an inferior officer upon his superior, for supposed in- juries done in the course of command. Jackson, upon understanding the history of the case, withdrew from all connexion with it: but Gunn, not to be pacified, pro- cured another agent, in the person of Major Fishburne, who renewed for him his requisition upon Greene. The latter refused any answer, and was accordingly threat- ened by Gunn with a personal assault, for which he gave the challenger to understand he always went prepared. The parties do not seem to have sought or shunned each other. By good fortune they never met, and the affair was soon blown over. But Greene seems to have been troubled with some misgivings in relation to the course which he had pursued. His career as a soldier had grievously shaken the foundations of his 'quaker philoso- phy. He had become sensible in the army, of the ex- treme delicacy which belongs to a military reputation, and the exceeding readiness with which the youthful salamander learns to question the courage of the more aedato and scrupulous. He accoj'dinFly addressed to QRIiENE ON HIS PLANTATION. 353 Washington a private letter on the subject, entreating his opinion. "If," said he, "I thought my honor or reputation would suffer in the opinion of the world, and more especially with the military gentlemen, I value life too little to hesitate a moment to answer the challenge." The reply of Washington affirmed the propriety of Greene's judgment in the matter. He says — "I give it as my decided opinion that your honor and reputation will stand not only perfectly acquitted for the non-ac- ceptance of his [Gunn's] challenge, but that your pru- dence and judgment would have been condemned for accepting it ; because, if a commanding officer is amena- ble to private calls for the discharge of his public duty, he has a dagger always at his heart ; and can turn neither to the right hand nor to the left without meeting its point. In a word, he is no longer a free agent in office, as there are few military decisions which are not offen sive to one party or another." With this affair the annoyances of Greene appear tc cease. His mind began to recover its tone; .his spirits, are more fresh and buoyant. He had brought on his family to Georgia in the latter part of 1785, and he in- dulges in all those dreams of happiness, in his own grounds, which the public man is apt to feel after a long and trying service, when he finds himself apart from the busy world, and respited from all its troubles. He has found a refuge. The seclusion of his plantation is no solitude. His wife and children are about him. He is solaced with their sympathies, and gladdened by their sight. He is honored by his neighbors, and finds their society grateful. His duties are no longer burdensome. His cares involve no humiliations. To cultivate his fields, to clear and beautify his grounds, to multiply the produce of the earth, and watch the growth of plants and flowers, which his own hands have set out, provides him with em- S64 LIFE OP NATHANAEL G^REENE. ployments at once grateful to his tastes, and in unison with his duties. It is evident, from his correspondence at this period, that Greene had shaken off his despon- dency, and was beginning to see the world once more through the rose-colored medium of youth. His escape from the drudgery of public service was like that of a boy released from school, and rioting with his comrades in the broad fields and in the blessed sunshine. His res- idence was a delightful one, and it awakened all his en- thusiasm. His letters at this period are full of his grounds and garden — his shrubbery — the pigeon-house and poultry-yard. He had fairly surrendered himself to the luxury of domestic life. What a contrast, its calm, its peaceful solitudes, its mild enjoyments, to the con- tinued turmoil, the fierce excitements, the anxieties and dangers of the camp. In April, a bit of a letter shows us how happily he lords it in his little empire. ** This is a busy time with us, and I can afford but a small portion of time to write. We are planting. We have got up- ward of sixty acres of corn planted, and expect to plant one hundred and thirty of rice. The garden is delight- ful. The fruit-trees and flowering shrubs form a pleas- ing variety. We have green peas almost fit to eat, and as fine lettuce as you ever saw. The mocking-birds surround us evening and morning. The weather is mild and the vegetable world progressing to perfection. We have in the same orchard, apples, pears, peaches, apri- cots, nectarines, plums of various kinds, figs, pomegran- ate, and oranges. And wo have strawberries which measure three inches round." He has evidently forgotten the demands of Gunn, and the failure of Banks. He has delivered himself to the present, and to the lovely empire of fruit and flower with which he has environed himself in his retreat. But, It was Heaven's will that he should not behold the ripening Greene's death. 355 of the fruits which his hands had set to grow ; it was the will of the same Divine Providence that the wretched entanglement with Banks should still be the means, in some degree, for cutting him off in his felicity. His presence was required in Savannah, on Monday the 12th of June, 1786, for the purpose of settling with one of Bank's creditors. In returning from that city, he spent the day at the house of Mr. William Gibbons. Greene had become a rice-planter, and a natural curiosity to see the progress of Mr. Gibbons' crop, led them after break- fast into the rice-field together. The sun was intensely hot, as it usually is during this month in the south, but Greene had too frequently endured his fiercest rays in Carolina, to apprehend danger from them now. The exposure was followed by a sharp pain in the head, which he felt while going home, and which continued through- out the ensuing day. But it occasioned no alarm, and was supposed to be nothing but an ordinary headache. On Thursday, however, the pain had increased greatly, over the eyes in particular, and the forehead appeared swollen and inflamed. In the evening, Major Pendleton, late his aid, paid him a visit, and was immediately im- pressed with the unfavorable change in his appearance. His apprehensions were excited, and early on Friday, a physician was summoned, who opened a vein, and ad- ministered some ordinary remedies. But the inflamma- tion continued to increase. Another physician was sum- moned ; more active medicines were employed; more blood was taken, and blisters were put upon the temples. But the remedies were applied too late. The head had now swollen greatly — the unfavorable symptoms rapidly ncreased. Greene sank into a complete toi-por from which he never recovered, and early on Monday, the 19th of June, he expired. This mournful event, which cut off a citizen so dis. {J66 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE. tinguished, in tlie midst of his hopes, in the prime of his manhood — for he was but forty-four years old when he died — was doubly felt as it was so totally unexpected. In the south the grief was at once deep and general. In the city of Savannah, the tidings produced a suspension of all business, public and private. The shops were shut, the public places were wrapped in mourning, and a spontaneous movement of the people, prepared for the mournful duty of committing the remains of one so hon ored to their final resting-place. On the morning after his death, the body was brought down by water to the city. It was met on the banks of the river by the muni- cipality and the military of the place. The citizens turn- ed out as one man to follow in the melancholy procession to the grave, and in the absence of a regular mmister of the gospel — for Savannah had not yet recovered from the devastating influences of war — the funeral service, according to the rites of the church of England, was read by the Honorable William Stevens. Deposited in an unknown vault, the coffin of Nathanael Greene was dis- tinguished only by a small metallic plate, which, in the usual manner, bears the name and age of the occupant. Upon this plate rests the only hope of identifying the re- mains of our subject, the search for which, partially urged, perhaps, has hitherto proved fruitless. Congress, immediately after his death, decreed a monument to his memory, to be erected at the seat of the federal government — nay — went a step farther and even composed the inscription — but to this day nothing has been done toward the work ; neither bust nor stone, nor tro23hied monument, has been raised to do justice to a memory which history can not fail to honor. We have no need to dwell upon the services which deserve this memorial. The public career of Nathanael Greene is on record. His virtues, talents, courage, and HIS CHARACTEll. 357 eminent prudence, will always secure for him the un- questioning gratitude of those who read thoughtfully and feelingly the history of our revolutionary struggles. Brave without rashness, prudent without fear, bold with- out temerity, temperate without phlegm, firm without obstinacy, strict without harshness, indulgent without partiality, thoughtful without tardiness, sanguine without impulse, and endowed with a constancy that never lost sight of its object in its incidents, — Greene presented us one of the happiest specimens of a mind well balanced, a heart matured, and a judgment ripe for all the exigen- cies that distinguished his career. His conduct during the progress of the struggle was frequently the subject of cavil and complaint. Slander and defamation strove to fasten upon his skirts ; but, like his great exemplar, Washington, he shook off the reptile as easily as Paul, the viper, after his shipwreck on the bar- barous island of Melita. His reputation, freed wholly from stain, or imputation of offence, has been steadily rising to the first rank among the military men of the Revolution. His talents, as a soldier, are supposed to resemble those of the commander-in-chief, and, of all our major-generals of the Revolution, he is universally ad« mitted to be the one who stands nearest to Washington^- APPENDIX. SOUTHERN ARMY. A NARRATIVE OF THE CAMPAIGN OF 1780, BY COLONEL OTHO HOLLAND WILLIAMS, ADJUTANT-GENERAL. The city of Charleston, South Carolina, was invested by a British army, commanded by General Sir Henry Clinton, on the first day of April, 1780. Major-General Lincoln of the American army, wlio com- manded the ganison, made the best possible defence his situation and circumstances would admit of; but, finding his garrison inadequate, and the resources of the country cut off or exhausted, he applied to the commander-in-chief of the American army for a reinforcement. On the 16th day of April, 1780, the quotas of Maryland and Dela- ware troops, about fourteen hundred infantry, marched under the orders of Major-General the baron De Kalb, from cantonments near Morris- town in New Jersey, for the head of (he Chesapeake bay. They em- barked the 3d day of May, at the head of Elk river, and arrived at Petersburg in Virginia early in June. Here the unwelcome news of the surrender of Charleston (on the 1 2th of May) was first communicated to the detachment, the principal object of whose destination was lost ; but the country was not yet con- quered ; and it was presumed that the countenance of a body of regular troops, however small, would contribute more than anything else to sustain the fortitude of the militia. Every exertion, therefore, was made in Virginia to expedite the march of the baron's detachment, which here received a small reinforcement of artillery. It proceeded with some celerity and in fine spirits as far as Wilcox's iron works, on Deep river, in the state of North Carolina ; but here, on the 6th day of July, the baron found himself under the necessity of halting for want of provisions. The state of North Carolina had made no provision for the troops of the Union ; she was solely occupied with her own miUtia, a great portion of which, being disaffected, were obliged to be dragooned into the service. All the baron's applications and remonstrances to the SCO ArrEXDix. executive were without effect ; he was obnged to send small detach- ments, under discreet ofiicers, to collect provisions from the inhabitants, who at that season of the year had but little to spare. Many of them were subsisting themselves upon the last of the preceding crop of grain, and the new, although it promised plenty, was not yet mature ; consequently some of the inhabitants must have suffered, notwithstand- ing the strict orders to the ofTicers to impress only a proportion of what was found on the farms. h\ this dilemma the troops remained several days, but the resources failing in the vicinity of the camp, it became necessary to draw supplies from a greater distance, or to march to where there was greater plenty. The former was impracticable, as the means of transportation were not in the baron's power. He consequently de- termined on the latter, previously extending the excursions of his for- aging parties, with directions to form a small magazine at Cox's (or Wilcox's) mill, on Deep river, where the troops arrived on the — nay of July, and encamped near Buffalo ford. Still, however, the supplies of grain were scarcely sufficient, even for the present subsistence of the troops ; and the only meat ration that could be procured was lean beef, daily driven out of the woods and the canebrakes, where the cattle had wintered themselves. Inaction, bad fare, and the difBculty of preserving discipline, when there is no appre- hension of danger, have often proved fatal to troops and ruined whole armies. But here, the activity of the officers, and the persevering pa- tience of the privates, preserved order, harmony, and even a passion for the service. The baron did not fail to represent his situation to Congress, and to repeat his remonstrances to the executive of the slate of North Carolina. He had been flattered with a promise of a plentiful supply of provisions and a respectable reinforcement of the mililia of North Carolina, which about that time took the field, under the command of Mr. Caswell, who was appointed a major-general. The supplies, however, did not arrive ; and the commandant of the militia, ambitious of signalizing himself, employed his men in detachments against small parties of disaffected inhabitants, who, to avoid being drafted into the service of their coun- try, retired among the swamps and other cover with which that country abounds. It was in vain that the baron required General Caswell to join his command ; and it was equally fruitless to expect much longer to find subsistence for his soldiers in a country where marauding parties of militia swept all before them. Tjie baron therefore hesitated whether he had better march to join the militia, in hopes to find that Caswell's complaints of a want of provisions for himself were fictitious, or to move up the country and gain the fertile banks of the Yadkin river. But, before any resolution was taken, the approach of Major-General Gates was announced, by the arrival of his aid-do-camp, Major Armstrong, who vsras to have acted as deputy adjutant-general, but was prevented bv sickness. SOUTHERN ARMY CAMPAIGN OF 1780. 3G1 General Gates, wlio had so fortunately terminated the career of Gen- eral Burgoyne in the north, was appointed to command the southern army immediately after the reduction of Charleston. His arrival, on the 25th of July, was a relief to De Kalb, who condescendingly took command of the Maryland division, which included the regiment of Delaware. Besides these two corps, the army consisted only of a small legionary corps, which formed a junction with them a few days before, under the command of Colonel Armand, being about sixty cavalry and as many infantry ; and Lieutenant-Colonel Carrington's detachment of three companies of artillery, which had joined in Virginia. General Gates was received with respectful ceremony. The baron ordered a continental salute from the little park of artillery, which was performed on the entrance into camp of his successor, who made nis acknowledgments to the baron for his great politeness ; approved his standing orders ; and, as if actuated by a spirit of great activity and en- terprise, ordered the troops to hold themselves in readiness to march at a moment'' s warning. The latter order was a matter of great aston- ishment to those who knew the real situation of the troops. But all difficulties were removed by the general's assurances that plentiful sup- pUes oi rum and rations were on the route, and would overtake them in a day or two — assurances that certainly were too fallacious, and that never were verified. All were in motion, however, early in the morn- ing of the 27th of July, and the general took the route over Buffalo ford, leading toward the enemy's advanced post on Lynch's creek, on the road to Camden, leaving two brass field-pieces and some baggage for want of horses. Colonel Williams, presuming on the frieadship of the general, ventured to expostulate with him upon the seeming precipitate and inconsiderate step he was taking. He represented that the country through which he was about to march was by nature bar- ren, abounding with sandy plains, intersected by swamps, and very thinly inhabited ; that the little provisions and forage which were pro- duced on the banks of its few small streams were exhausted, or taken away by the enemy, and by the hordes of banditti (called tories), which had retired from what they called the persecution of the rebels, and who would certainly distress his army, small as it was, by removing what little might remain out of his way. On the other hand, the colo- nel represented that a route about northwest would cross the Pedes river somewhere about where it loses the name of Yadkin, and would lead to the little town of Salisbury, in the midst of a fertile country, and inhabited by a people zealous in the cause of America ; that the most active and intelligent officers had contemplated this route with pleasure, not only as it promised a more plentiful supply of provisions, but because the sick, the women and children, and the wounded, in case of disaster, might have an asylum provided for them at Salisbury or Charlotte, where they would remain in security, because the militia of the counties of Mecklenburg and Roan, in which these villages «tand, were stanch friends. The idea of establishing a laboratory for 16 SClK APPENDIX. the repair of arms at a secure place, was also suggested as ncccBStiy. the security of convoys of stores irom the northward, by the uppei route ; tlic advantage of turning the left of the enemy's outposts, even by a circuitous route ; that of approaching the most considerable of those posts (Camden) with the river Watcree on our right, and our fiiends on our backs; and some other considerations — were suggested. And, that they might the more forcibly impress the general's mind, a short note was presented to him, concisely intimating the same opin- ion, and referring to the best-informed gentlemen under his command. Gei:eral Gates said he would confer with the general officers when the troops should halt at noon. Whether any conference took place or not the writer does not know. After a short halt at noon, when the m-enwere refreshed upon the scraps in \heu knapsacks, \\\e march was resumed. The country exceeded the representation that had been made of it: scarcely had it emerged from a state of sterile nature; the few rude attempts at iaiprovement that were to be found were most of them abandoned by the owners and plundered by the neighbors. Ev- ery one, in this uncivilized part of the country, was flying from his home, and johdng in parties, under adventurers, who pretended to yield them protection, until the British army should appear, which they seemed contldently to expect. The distresses of the soldiery daily in- creased. They were told that the banks of the Pedee river were ex- tremely fertile — and so, indeed, they were ; but the preceding crop of corn (the })rincipal article of produce) was exhausted, and the new grain, although luxuriant and fine, was unfit for use. Many of the soldiery, urged by necessity, plucked the green ears and boiled them with the lean beef, which was collected in the woods, made for them- selves a repast, not unpalatable to be sure, but which was attended with painful effects. Green peaches also were substituted for bread, and had similar consequences. Some of the otTicers, aware of the risk of eating such vegetables, and in such a state, with poor fresh beef, and without salt, restrained themselves from taking anything but the beef itself, boiled or roasted. It occurred to some that the hair-powder, which remained in tlieir bags, would thicken soup, and it was actually applieJ.* The troops, notwithstanding their disappointment in not being over- taken by a supply of ram and jirovisions, were again amused with promises, and gave early proofs of that patient submission, inllcxible fortitude, and undcviating integrity, which they afterward more emi- vienlly displayed. On the 3d day of August the little army crossed Pedee river, ii« batteaux, at Mask's ferry, and were met on the southern bank by Lieutenant-Colonel Por^erfield, an officer of merit, who, after the dis- aster at Charleston, retired with a small detachment, and found means of subsisting himself and his men in Carolina until the present time. Colonel Marion, a gentleman of South Carolina, had been with the * Captain W. D. Beale, «tc SOLTHERN ARMY CAMPAIGN OF 1780. 363 Jtrmy a few days, attended by a very few followers, distingui&hed by small black leather caps and the wretchedness of their attire. Their number did not exceed twenty men and boys, some white, some black, and all mounted, but most of them miserably equipped ; their appear- ance was in fact so burlesque, that it was with much difficulty the diversion of the regular soldiery was restrained by the officers ; and the general himself was glad of an opportunity of detaching Colonel Marion, at his own instance, toward the interior of South Carolina, with orders to watch the motions of the enemy, and furnish intelli- gence. These trifling circumstances are remembered in these notes, to show from what contemptible beginnings a good capacity will rise to dis- tinction. The history of the war in South Carolina will recognise Marion as a brave partisan, if only the actions' of the last two years' campaigns are recorded. The expectation, founded on assurances of finding a plentiful sup- ply of provisions at May's mill, induced the troops again to obey the order to march with cheerfulness ; but being again disappointed, fa- tigued, and almost famished, their patience began to forsake them. I'heir looks began to be vindictive, mutiny was ready to manifest it- self, and the most unhappy consequences were to be apprehended — when the regimental officers, by mixing among the men and remon- strating with them, appeased murmurs, for which unhappily there was too much cause. The officers, however, by appealing to their own empty canteens and mess-cases, satisfied the privates that all suffered alike ; and, exhorting them to exercise the same fortitude of which the officers gave them the example, assured them that the best means of extricating them from the present distress should be immediately adopt- ed ; that if the supplies expected by the general did not arrive very soon, detachments should go from each corps, in all directions, to pick up what grain might possibly be found in the country, and bring it to the mill. Fortunately, a small quantity of Indian corn was immediately brought into camp ; the mill was set to work, and as soon as a mess of meal was ground it was delivered to the men ; and so, in rotation, they were all served in the course of a few hours. More poor cattle were sacrificed, the camp-kettles were all engaged, the men were busy, but silent, until ihey had each taken his repast ; and then all was again content, cheer- fulness, and mirth. It was as astonishing as it was pleasing to observe the transition. The general and field officers were not the first served upon this oc- casion, nor were they generally the most satisfied ; but, as no one could point out the means of immediate redress, no remonstrances took place with the commanding officer. The commanding officer, however, was well informed of what was passing in the camp, and of the critical dis- position of the troops. Impressed by a sense of difficulties, and per- haps conceiving himself in some degree accountable to the army foi S64 APPENDIX. the steps he had taken, he told Colonel Williams, who acted as deputy adjutant-general to the southern army, that he had, in a measure, been forced to take the route he had done ; that General Caswell had evaded every order which had been sent to him, as well by the baron De Kalb as himself, to form a junction of the militia with the recular corps; that it appeared to him that Caswell's vanity was gratified by having a separate command ; that probably he contemplated some enterprise to distinguish himself and gratify his ambition, " which," said he, " I should not be sorry to see checked by a rap over the knuckles, if it were not that the militia would disperse, and leave this handful of brave men without even nominal assistance." He urged further that it was the more necessary to counteract the indiscretion of Caswell, and save him from disaster, as he then commanded the only corps of militia that were embodied in the Carolinas ; that the assurances he had received from the executive of North Carolina gave him cause la suspect that supplies of provisions had been forwarded and used in pro- fusion in Caswell's camp, notwithstanding intimations had been com- municated to him that the militia were in as bad a situation in that respect as the regular corps ; that, moreover, having marched thus far directly toward the enemy, a retrograde or indirect movement would not only dispirit the troops, but intimidate the people of the country, many of whom had come in with their arms, or sent their submissions to the general — promising, upon his engagement to indemnify them for what had passed, to assemble themselves under their own leaders and follow the colors of the Union. The poverty of the countrj'^ and the perfLchj of the people were in vain opposed to these agreements, and in fact the troops had penetrated so far, as to make it even as haz- ardous to return or file oiT for the upper country as to advance. Dangerous as deceptions had been, it was still thought expedient to flatter the expectation of the soldiery with an abundance of provisions so soon as a junction could be formed with the militia. Therefore, after collecting all the corn which was to be found in the neighborhood of May's mill, and huckstering all the meal that could be spared from our present necessities, the march was resumed toward Camden. On the 5th day of August, in the afternoon, General Gates received a letter, informing him that General Caswell meditated an attack upon a fortified post of the enemy on Lynch's creek, about fourteen miles from the militia encampment. More anxious than ever, General Gates urged on the march of the regulars. Whatever the men suflfered, and whatever they thought, the example of the officers, who shared with them every inconvenience, repressed the murmurs which were hourly expected to break forth. The next morning orders were issued for the army to march with the utmost expedition to join the militia, under the idea that it was the only expedient to gain a supply of provisions ; but another and more vexatious cause to General Gates was, a letter from General Caswell, advising him that he had every reason to apprehend un attack on his camp by the garrison from Lynch's creek fthe vert SOUTHERN ARMY CAxMPAIGN OF 1780. 365 tjarrison which he, the day before, had determined to assault, for there was no possibility of surprising troops so situated), and requesting Gen- eral Gates to reinforce him with all possible despatch. One of Caswell's letters began — "Sir, General W , mi/ aid" de-camp." The ostentation of this address w^eakened the little confi- dence which the general-in-chief might have had in the major-general's capacity for command, and increased his desire to have all the forces under his immediate direction. Such evasions of orders, such pre- tences to enterprise, and such sudden signs of intimidation, in the mili- tia general, determined Gates to reach his camp in person that same day, although it was impracticable, without retreating the militia, for a junction to be formed until the next. The deputy adjutant-general had the honor of attending the general commandant to the headquar ters of the commandant of the militia. The reception was gracious, and the general and his suite were regaled with wine and other novel- ties, exquisitely grateful and pleasingly exhilarating ; but a man must have been intoxicated, not to perceive the confusion which prevailed in the camp : tables, chairs, bedsteads, benches, and many other articles of heavy and cumbrous household stuif, were scattered before the tent doors in great disorder. It was understood that General Caswell had discovered, upon the last alarm, that, by tlie death of horses and breaking down of carriages, he was rendered unable to move, and was making an effort to divest himself then of his heavy baggage. (If, in these notes, a tenor, censo- rious of General Caswell's conduct, appears to the reader, the writei begs that it may not, as it ought not to be, imputed to any personal prejudice or malicious motive. He never had the honor of seeing the general until this time, and all that he had ever heard of him was ex- tremely favorable to his character as a gentleman and a patriot. A regard to facts, to which the writer thinks he may possibly hereafter be called to testify on oath, obliges him to state them faithfully as they occurred, or were communicated to him — preserving the memory of authorities, as well as incidents, in order to a correct statement of the circumstances about which he may be interrogated.) On the 17th of August, the wished-for junction took place at the cross roads, about fifteen miles east of the enemy's post on Lynch 's creek. This event enlivened the countenances of all parties : the militia were relieved from their apprehensions of an attack, and the regulars, forgetting their fatigues, and disdaining to betray the least appearance of discontent, exulted in the confidence with which they inspired their new comrades ; a good understanding prevailed among the officers of all ranks, and General Caswell seemed satisfied with the honor of being the third in command. The baron De Kalb commanded the right wing of the army, com. p.,:)sed of the regular troops, and General Caswell the left, of militia. Aft^er the junction, which happened about noon, the army marchenust be instantly put to death. " When the ground will admit of it, and the near approach of the (mcjmy renders it necessary, the army will (when ordered) march in columns. " The artillery at the head of their respective brigades, and the bag- gage in the rear. ''The guard of the heavy bacrgage will be composed of the remain* 16* 370 AI'THNDIX. ing officers and soldiers of the nrtillery, one captain, two subalterns^ four sergeants, one drum, and sixty rank and file; and no person what- ever is to presume to send any other soldier upon that service. " All bat-men, waiters, &c., who are soldiers taken from the line, are forthwith to join their regiments, and act with their masters while they are upon duty. '< T!)e tents of the whole army a»'e to be struck at tattoo." After writing this order, the general communicated it to the deputy aojutant-general, showing him, at the same lime, a rough estimate of tlie forces under his command, making thorn upward of seven thou- sand. That this calculation was exaggerated the deputy adjutant-gen- eral could not but suspect, from his own observation. He therefore availed himself of the general's orders, to call all the general officers in the anny to a council to be held in Kugley's barn — to call also upon the commanding officers of corps for a field return, in making which they were to be as exact as possible ; and, as he was not required to attend the council, he busied himself in collecting these returns and forming an abstract for the general's better information. This abstract was pre- sented to the general just as the council broke up, and immediately upon liis coming out of the door. He cnst his eyes upon the numbers of rank and file present fit for duty, which was exactly three ihousann and fifty-two. He said there were no less than thirteen general offi cers in council ; and intimated something about the disproportion be tween the numbers of officers and privates. It was replied, " Sir, the number of the latter is certainly much below the estimate formed this morning." — " But,'* said the general, " these are enough for our pur pose." What that was, was not communicated to the deputy adjutant general. The general only added, " There was no dissenting voice in the council, where the orders have just been read" — and then gave them to be published to the army. Although there had been no dissenting voice in the council, the or- ders were no sooner promulgated than they became the subject of ani- madversion. Even those who had been dumb in council, said that there had been no consultation ; that the orders were read to them, and all opinion seemed suppressed by the very positive and decisive terms in which they were expressed. Others could not imagine how it could be conceived that an army, consisting of more than two thirds militia, and which had never been J71 APPENDIX. They engaged seriously in the affair ; and, notwithstanding sorao ineg ularity, which was created by the mihtia breaking pell-mell through the second line, order was restored there time enough to give the enemy a severe check, which abated the fury of their assault, and obliged them to assume a more deliberate manner of acting. The second Maryland brigade, including the battalion of Delawares, on the right, were en- gaged with the enemy's left, which they opposed with very great fa-ni- ness. They even advanced upon them, and had taken a number of prisoners, when their companions of the first brigade (which formed the secojid line), being greatly outflanked, and charged by superior numbers, were obliged to give ground. At this critical moment the regimental officers of (he latter brigade, reluctant to leave the field without orders, inquired for their commanding officer (Brigadier-Gen- eral Smallwood), who, however, was not to be found ; notwithstandiner, Colonel Guuby, Major Anderson, and a number of other brave offi- cers, assisted by the dejiuty adjutant-general, and Major Jones, one of Smallwood's aids, rallied the brigade, and renewed the contest. Again they were obliged to give way, and were again rallied ; the second brigade were still warmly engaged ; the distance between the two brig- ades did not exceed two hundred yards, their opposite flanks being nearly upon a line perpendicular to their front. At this eventful junc- ture the deputy adjutant-general, anxious that the communication be- tween them should be preserved, and wishing that, in the almost cer- tain event of a retreat, some order might be sustained by them, hastened from the first to the second brigade, which he found precisely in the same circumstances. He called upon his own regiment (the sixth Maryland) not to fly, and was answered by the lieutenant-colonel, Ford, who said — " They have done all that can be expected of them ; we are outnumbered and outflanked. See, the enemy charge with bayonets." The enemy, having collected their corps, and directing their whole force against these two devoted brigades, a tremendous fire of musketry was for some time kept up on both sides, with equal perseverance and ob- stinacy, until Lord Cornwallis, perceiving that there was no cavalry opposed to him, pushed forward his dragoons — and his infantry charg- ing at the same moment with fixed bayonets, put an end to the con- test. His victory was complete. AH the artillery and a very great number of prisoners fell into his hands; many fine fellows lay on the field, and the rout of the remainder was entire. Not even a company retired in any order ; every one escaped as he could. If, in this affair, the militia fled too soon, the regulars may be thought almost as blainable for remaining too long on the field, especially after all hope cf victory must have been despaired of. Let the command- ants of the brigades answer for themselves. Allow the same privilege to the officers of the corps comprising those brigades, and they will say that they never received orders to retreat, nor any order from any gen- eral oflicer, from the commencement of the action until it became des- perate, The brav? major-general, the baron De Kalb, fought on foot, SOUTHERN ARiMY CAMPAIGN OF 1780. 6t0 with the second brigade, and fell, mortally wounded, into the hands of the enemy, who stripped him even of his shirt — a fate which probably Was avoided by other generals only by an opportune retreat. Tlie torrent of unarmed militia bore away with it Generals Gates, Caswell, and a number of others, wbo soo7i saw that all was lost. General Gates at first conceived a hope that he might rally at Cler- mont a sufficient number to cover the retreat of the regulars ; but, the farther they fled, the more they were dispersed, and the generals soon found themselves abandoned by all but their aids. Lieutenant-Colonel Senf, who had been on the expedition with Colo- nel Sumter, returned, and overtaking General Gates, informed him of their complete success ; that the enemy's redoubt on the Wateree, op- posite to Camden, was first reduced, and the convoy of stores, &c., from Charleston, was decoyed and became a prize to the American party almost without resistance ; that upward of one hundred prisoners and forty loaded wagons were in the hands of the party, who had sustained very little loss. But the general could avail himself nothing of tliis trifling advantage. The detachment under Sumter was on the oppo- site side of the Waferee, marching off as speedily as might be, to secure their booty, for tl,e course of the firing in the morning indicated unfa- vorable news from the army. The militia, the general saw, were in air ; and the regulars, he feared, were no more. The dreadful thunder of artilleiy and musketry had ceased, and none of his friends appeared. There was no existing corps with which the victorious detachment might unite, and the Americans had no post in the rear. He therefore sent orders to Sumter to retire in the best m.anner he could, and proceeded himself with General Cas- well toward Charlotte, an open village on a plain, about sixty miles from the fatal scene of action. The Virginians, who knew nothing of the country they were in, involuntarily reversed the route they came, and fled, most of them, to Hillsborough. General Stevens followed them, and halted there as many as were not sufficiently refreshed, be- fore his arrival, to pursue their way home. Their terms of service, liowever, being very short, and no prospect presenting itself to afford another proof of their courage, General Stevens soon afterward dis- ciiarged them. The North-Carolina militia fled different ways, as their hopes led or their fears drove them. Most of them preferring the shortest way home, scattered through the wilderness which lies between the Wa- teree and Pedee rivers, and thence toward Roanoke. Whatever these might have suffered from the disaffected, they were probably not worse off thin those who retired the way they came — wherein they met many of their friends, armed, and advancing to join the American army; but, learning its fate from the refugees, they acted decidedly in concert with the victors — and capturing some, plundering others, and maltreat- 'ng all the fugitives they met, returned exultingly home. They even iu3ded taunts to their perfidy : one of a party, who robbed Brigadier* 876 APPENDIX. General Butler of his sword, consoled him by saying, " You '11 /lave n4 further use for it." The regular troops, it has been observed, were the last to quit the field. Every corps was broken and dispersed ; even the bogs and brush, which in some measure served to screen them from their furious pur- suers, separated them from one another. Major Anderson was the only officer who fortunately rallied, as he retreated, a few men of dif- ferent companies, and whose prudence and firmness afforded protection to those who joined his party on the route. Colonel Gunby, Lieutenant-Colonel Howard, Captain Kirkwood, and Captain Dobson, with a few other officers, and lifty or sixty men, formed a junction on the route, and proceeded together. The general order for moving off the heavy baggage, &c., to Wax- haws, was not put in execution, as directed to be done, on the prece- ding evening. The whole of it consequently fell into the hands of the enemy, as well as all that which followed the army, except the wagons of General Gates and De Kalb, which, being furnished with the stoutest horses, fortunately escaped, under the protection of a small quarter- guard. Other wagons also had got out of danger from the enemy ; but the cries of the women and the wounded in the rear, and the conster- nation of the flying troops, so alarmed some of the wagoners, that they cut out their teams, and taking each a horse, left the rest for the next that should come. Others were obliged to give up their horses to as- sist in carrying off the wounded; and the whole road for many milea was strewed with signals of distress, confusion, and dismay. What added not a little to this calamitous scene was the conduct of Armand's legion. They were principally foreigners, and some of them probably not unaccustomed to such scenes. Whether it was owing to the disgust of the colonel at general orders, or the cowardice of his men, is not with the writer to determine ; but certain it is that the le- gion did not take any part in the action of the ] 6th ; they retired early and in disordei*, and were seen plundering the baggage of the army on \their retreat. One of them cut Captain Lemar, of the Maryland in- fantry, over the hand, for attempting to reclaim his own portmanteau, which the fellow was taking out of the wagon. Captain Lemar was -unarmed, having broken his sword in action, and was obliged to sub- j mit both to the loss and to the insult. The tent-covers were thrown I off the wagons generally, and the baggage exposed, so that one might I take what suited him to carry off. General Caswell's mess-wagon • afforded the best refreshment : very unexpectedly to the writer, he there found a ]npe of good Madeira, broached and surrounded by a number of soldiers, whose appearance led him to inquire what engaged their attention. He acknowledges that in this instance he shared the booty, and look a draught of wine, which was the only refreshment he had received tliat day. -^ But the catastrophe being over, before we pursue a detail of all it/ distressing consequences, it may be excusable to consider whether th"- SOUTHERN ARMY CAMPAIGN OF 1780. 377 measures which led to the necessity of fighting a general battle were justifiable, and whether such an event might not have been avoided at almost any time before the two armies were actually opposed. If General Gates intended to risk a general action, conscious of all circumstances, he certainly made that risk under every possible disad- vantage ; and a contemplation of those circumstances would seem to justify Colonel Armand's assertion, made in the afternoon of the day in which the battle was fought ; " I will not," said he, " say tliat we have been betrayed ; but if it had been the purpose of the general to sacrifice his army, what could he have done more eifectually to have answered that purpose!" General Gates, however, notwithstanding his after order of the 15th, had, in the opinion of most of his officers, and particularly of the writer, no more apprehension of meeting the enemy in force than the least- informed man of his army. The circuitous route, first recommended to him, would certainly have been the safest and best. Magazines, an armory, a hospital, and even fortified posts, might have been estab- lished, without halting the eifective force of the army — posts to which they might, in case of disaster, have retired under protection of the patriotic militia of Mecklenburg and Roan counties, who only wanted time to join the army in respectable numbers. Such at least were their subsequent declarations, and such their subsequent conduct ren- dered most probable. But, even on the route the army had marched, the danger of meet- ing an enemy of equal or superior force was passed when they got into the vicinity of the Wateree, and in the neighborhood of their friends. It was only necessary for General Gates to have been informed of the march of Lord Cornwallis from Charleston, to have avoided, almost as long as he pleased, a conflict between the two armies. In the opinion of the writer it was not too late, even after Lord Cornwallis reached Camden. If, instead of meeting him involuntarily, General Gates had been informed of his intended movement, and qui- etly in the • afternoon of the 15th have followed with his whole army the detachment under Woolford, over the V/ateree, it would have been impossible for the armies to have met until the next day, and after the success of Sumter's expedition. If his lordship should then have thought of forcing a passage over the Wateree, General Gates would have had the alternative of opposing him under that disadvantage, or of retiring lo any position he might prefer higher up the river. Lord Cornwallis could not have adventured th^ passage of the river much above Gates's army, because, the river being fordable in many places, his garrison and magazines at Camden would have been jeoparded : the forces he could aiibrd to leave for its defence would have been insufficient for half a day ; and, if the pout and its stores had been gained by the Americans, tlie British army, destitute of supplies, would have been obliged to re- tire toward Charleston. On the other hand, if his lordship should keep his post in his rear, he must consequently leave the communica $78 APPENDIX. Uon open between tlic Aincricaii army and their friends in the uppe country, which would have rendered more practicable the avoiding of a general engagement. But these are subsequent reflections on meas- ures, the idea of which perhaps never occurred nor was suggested t(! the general. Involved as he was in the necessity of fighting, the dis- position which was made for battle, after the alarm, was perhafs un- exceptionable, and as well adapted to the situation as if the ground had been reconnoitred and chosen by the ablest officer in the army of the United States. (It was afterward approved by the judicious and J gallant General Guekne, to whom the writer had the solemn pleasure / of showing the field of battle, and with whom he liad the additional I mortification of participating the danger and disgrace of a repulse near J ^he same place, the very next campaign.) -^ The only apology that General Gates condescended to make to the "^ army for the loss of the battle was, " A man maij pit a cock, but he / can't make him fight ; the fate of battle is uncontrollable" — and such J other common maxims as admit of no contradiction. It is, however, morally certain, considering the disposition of the citizens generally, and the respectable body of militia that had already joined the army, that time was, of all things, tlio most important to the success of General Gates's army. Lord Cornwallis, conscious of this truth, and of the disadvantage which the least lapse would prove to him, seized the first moment to hasten the decision of an experiment which was to gain or lose the country, for that season at least — perhaps for ever. Generals Gates and Caswell arrived at Charlotte on the night of the action. The ensuing morning presented nothing to them but an open village, with but few inhabitants, and the remains of a temporary hos- pital, containing a few maimed soldiers of Colonel Baford's unfortu- nate corps, which had been cut to pieces on the retreat, after the sur- render of Charleston. General Caswell was requested to remain there, to encourage the militia of the country, who were to rendezvous there in three days (as it was first intended), to countenance the reassembling of the Amer- ican army. General Gates perceived no effectual succor short of Hills- borough, where the general assembly of North Carolina were about to convene ; thither he repaired with all possible expedition, and was fol- lowed the next day by General Caswell, who despaired of the meeting of the militia — probably because he thought that their first object, the army, was annihilated. —-. On the two days succeeding the fatal action, Brigadier-General Gist, \ who commanded the second brigade of Maryland troops previous to its ! misfortune at Charlotte, arrived with only two or three attendants, who ' had fallen into his route. Several field officers and many officers of the line also arrived, similarly circumstanced ; and, although not more than about a dozen men of different corps arrived in irregular squads trom time to time, not less than one hundred infantrv were collected in SOUTHERN ARMY CAMPAIGN OF 1730. 379 the village within that time, besides Armand's cavalry, which was very little reduced, and a small corps of mounted militia, which retired from the Waxhaw settlement, under the command of Major Davy, an en- terprising and gallant young man who had been raising volunteer cay- airy to join the army. Very few of the fugitive militia resorted to this place. Fortunately, there was a small supply of provisions in the town ; the inhabitants did all they could to refresh both men and officers ; and by the provident care of Colonel Hall, of Maryland, a quantity of flour was sent back on the route of the retreating troops. Brigadier-General Smallvvood, who had the honor of the second line, or corps de reserve, assigned him in the late action, deliberately came in on the morning (or about noon) of the 18th, escorted by one of his aids-de-camp, two or three other gentlemen, and about as many sol- diers, all mounted. His route was by way of the Wateree. The small squads assembled by Major Anderson and the other offi- cers already mentioned were on the direct route. The latter were not yet arrived, but were hourly expected ; and afforded, in addition to those already collected and those with Colonel Sumter, a prospect of forming such a body as might still encourage the militia to form at least the sem- blance of an army, which might keep up some appearance of opposition until the resources of the Union could be called forth by Congress or by the states most immediately interested. An incident which occasioned great distress the next day must be here related. It has been observed that many of the wagoners and retreating troops accelerated their flight by taking horses from Xhe wag- ons which were left on the route. In this way many wounded officers and soldiers made their escape, and bore with astonishing fortitude the pains incident to their situation. They gave, indeed (some of them), proofs of the utmost pain and fatigue that the human constitution can bear ; others sank under their accumulated distresses. Those who ar- rived at Charlotte were taken the best possible care of; the horses were turned out to graze in the adjacent fields, no forage being provided. It should have been remarked that the tribe of Catawba Indians, good friends to the Americans, quitted their villages on the Wateree, and followed the remnant of the army toward the town of Charlotte, where many of them had already arrived. Some of them, in their irregular way,' fired a number of guns after nightfall on the 18th, which gave a \ery general alarm, and many of the people fled in the night, taking lis many of the horses as they could find or had occasion for. Another incident, much more consequential ! The morning of the 19th was fair, and the officers were assembling about the public square and encouraging one another with hopes of a more favorable course of affairs than had been current for some time past, when they received unquestionable information that Colonel Sumter, whose arrival they V)ked for every moment, was completely surprised the preceding day 380 APPENDIX. and the rvhole p^rty killed, captured, or dispersed ! Dead or alive, ho was censured for suffering a surprise. No organization nor order had yet been attempted to be restored among the few troops that had arrived in Charlotte ; the privates were :herefore hastily formed into ranks, and the officers were among them- selves adjusting the commands to be taken by them respectively, when the number of supernumerary officers was discovered to be very con- siderable. Every one, however, took some charge upon himself. The care of the v^'ounded, the collection of provisions, the transportation of the heavy baggage (preserved by Major Dean's small guard), and other matters which might in any way alleviate the general distress, engaged the attention of those who had no division of the men. There was no council, nor regular opinion taken respecting this irk- some situation. The general idea was that Charlotte, an open, wooded village, without magazines of any sort, without a second cartridge per man, and without a second ration, was not tenable for an hour against superior numbers which might enter at every quarter. Moreover, it was estimated by- those who knew the geography of the country, that even the victorious enemy might be in the vicinity of the place. It was admitted by every one that no place could be more defenceless. Only one officer, who was of the legion, proposed a temporary de- fiance, by pulling down the houses and forming a redoubt, which might induce the enemy to grant a capitulation. No respect was paid to this destructive proposition, and the lirst suggestion prevailed. Difficulties almost innumerable presented themselves to obstruct a march. Several officers with small parties were known to be on the route from Camden ; some refugees might possibly escape from Sum ter's detachment ; many of the wounded were obliged to be left in the old hospital, dependent probably on the enemy or on a iew of the in- habitants who were unable to retire ; and even some who might have have got off on horseback were deprived of the means by the alarming incident of the preceding night. Were all these to be abandoned 1 Time was never more important to a set of wretches than now; but how to take it — whether ' by the forelock,'' as the adage is, or wait its more propitious moments — none of us could decisively resolve. Brig- adier-General SmallwooJ, who quartered himseif at a farmhouse a little way from town, appeared at this crisis approaching the parade in hig usual slow pace. As senior officer, his orders would have been obeyed, even to setting about fortifying th village ; but being informed of wha* has just been related, and concur ng in the general sentiment, he leis- uiely put himself at the head of tne party and moved off toward Salis- bury. 'J'he deputy adjutant-general and Brigade-Major Davidson took the route to Caimlen, in order to direct all they might meet to file off toward Salisbury. The small parties that had attached themselves U. Colonel Gunby and Colonel Howard were met near town, and an ex- press was sent to Major Anderson, who had, to no purpose, spent some time in endeavors to bring off some wagons which had escaped beyond SOUTHERN ARMY CAMPAIGN OF 1780. o81 the pursuit of the enemy and were left without horses. By noon a very lengthy line of inarch occupied the road from Charbtte to Salis- bury. It consisted of the wretched remnant of the late southern army, a great number of distressed whig families, and the whole tribe of Ca- tawba Indians (about three hundred in number, some fifty or sixty of whom were warriors, but indifferently armed). Among the rest were six soldiers who had left the hospitals with other convalescents ; they had all suffered in Buford's unfortunate affair, and had but two sound arms among them — indeed, four of them had not one arm among them, and two only an arm apiece : each of them had one linen garment. Those officers and men who were recently wounded, and had resolu- tion to undertake the fatigue, were differently transported — some in wagons, some in litters, and some on horseback. Their sufferings were indescribable. The distresses of the women and children who fled from Charlotte and its neighborhood — the nakedness of the Indians, and the number of their infants and aged persons — and the disorder of the whole line of march — conspired to render it a scene too picturesque and complicated for description. A just representation would exhibit an image of compound wretchedness; care, anxiety, pain, poverty, hurry, confusion, humiliation, and dejection, would be characteristic traits in the mortifying picture. The inhabitants who had fled with their families soon began to dis- perse and take refuge among their friends in the interior of the coun- try. The Catawbas had a district of country assigned them for hunting- grounds in North Carolina. Brigadier-General Smallwood continued the march of the regular infantry to Salisbury, and arrived the third day after. Armand's legion proceeded as they threatened when it was resolved to evacuate Charlotte : " If," said one of the officers, " you will make dc retreat, we will retreat faster dan you !" They proceeded to Hillsborough. The fertility of the country between Charlotte and Salisbury, the hospitality and benevolence of the inhabitants, and the numbers of their habitations on the route, afforded in many instances that relief which was requisite to preserve life, besides a liberal supply of provisions for all this cavalcade. It is not known whether, if the Americans had not evacuated Char- lotte, liord Cornwallis would not have made it an object to dispossess them; but as it was, his lordship contented himself wdth having de- feated the southern army, driven it out of South Carolina, and cut up the only detachment respectable enough to afford a head to which the patriots of the country might assemble. His lordship certainly gave the world another instance in proof of the assertion that it is not every general, upon whom fortune bestows her favors, who knows how to avail himself of all the advantages which are presented to him. Vic- tory is not always attended — perhaps never — with all the superiority it / seems to bestow. The British army retired to Camden. i So unexpected an event gave the poor Americans time to breathe. \ ^leneral Smallwood halted his party at Salisbury, selected about one 382 APPENDIX. hundred and fifty effective men, and sent tlie remainder, perhaps fifXj or sixty more, over the Yadkin river, with the wagons, women, &c. The elfectives he officered according to his pleasure, and permitted the field officers, particularly those who had not formerly belonged to his brigade, to proceed to Hillsborough. Hall, Williams, and Howard, were of the number, who availed tiiemselves at their leisure of this permission. At Salisbury, one .hundred and twenty or thirty miles from the scene of the late action, Smallvvood took time to dictate those letters which he addressed to Congress, and in which he intimated the great difficulties he had encountered and the exertions he had made to save a reninant of General Gates's army — letters which, with the aid of those he addressed to his friends in power, procured him,it was gen- erally believed in the line, the rank of 7?j«/or-gencral in the army of / the United States, and which probably prompted the resolution of | Congress directing an inquiry into the conduct of General Gates. But many of the officers wrote to their friends from Salisbury, and being chagrined and mortified at not overtaking their commanding general in so long a retreat, expressed themselves with great disgust and freedom. Major Anderson, who casually heard of the retreat of the detachment that had surprised Sumter, proceeded to Charlotte, where he found the militia inspirited by a change of circumstances, disposed to organize themselves, and form such corps as might protect the country from the incursions of the enemy, which might be expected from Camden. IMiey requested the major to remain at Charlotte, and through him invited General Smallvvood to return, importuning him, and even offering him the chief command of the militia of Mecklenburg — General Caswell, their countryman, having, as they alleged, abandoned them even before the expiration of the three days in which he had ordered them to as- semble at Charlotte. General Smallvvood, however, dechned the honor of this invitation,"] and sent orders to Major Anderson to join him without delay at Salis- bury ; and in order that these instructions might not be dispensed with on any pretence whatever, Lieutenant-Colonel Ford, the particular friend of Anderson, was charged with them and with directions to ex- pedite the march of the party. The order was executed, and the mor- tified militia were left to depend upon their own exertions and their own fortitude, which, notwithstanding the discouragements they had met with, did not fail. They assembled, formed themselves into small partisan corps — and actually combated successfully the first detach- ments of the enemy that afterward came into their country. These are facts which entitle the patriots of Mecklenburg and Waxhaws to a whole page of eulogium in the best history that shall record the cir- cumstances of the revolution. The unfortunate General Gates, at Hillsborough, where the assem- bly of the state had convened, hearing from the officers who arrived there that the disasters of the army were not so completely ruinous aa he had at first apprehended, applied himself assiduously to the legisla- SOUTIIEUN ARMY EVENTS SUrSEQUEMT TO 1780. 382 ture for the supplies necessary to re-equip the regular troops. But what supplies, or rather the quantum, that would be requisite, the gen- eral could not ascertain, having received no returns or reports of any kind from General Smailvvfood, who seemed to assume the command of the army. In order therefore to obtain the requisite information, and to decide at once the doubt about command, General Gates wrote explicitfy to General Smallwood, and ordered him to pass the Yadkin river with all the men under his command, and to proceed on the direct route to Hillsborough. This order had been anticipated: it was leceived by General Smallwood after he had passed the Yadkin and was on his march to Guilford Courthouse, on the route directed. At Guilford the troops were halted for refreshment ; and, as there was a great plenty of provisions in the neighborhood, General Smallwood, without regard ing the instructions he had received from General Gates, wrote to tht assembly of the 5/a/e, intimating that, with //^e/r approbation, he would continue there until other arrangements should be resolved on. The assembly properly decihicd interfering in matters which might involve: a question of authority betv/een two continental officers, and referred the proposition of General Smallwood to General Gates. General Gates did not entirely disapprove of the execution of the proposition, but in his letter to General Smallwood he required thaf certain returns, &c., should be forwarded to him without delay, and gave such explicit intimations that he was not disposed to relinquish his command of the southern army, as to induce General Smallwood to suspend for the present his hopes of succeeding thereto. He therefore marched imme- diately to Hillsborough, where he arrived with the tattered remains of the army early in the month of September. Thus ended the campaign of 1780. A NARRATIVE OF EVENTS RELATIVE TO THE SOUTHERN ARMY, SUBSEQUENT TO THE ARRIVAL OF GENERAL GATES'S BROKEN BATTALIONS AT HILLS- BOROUGH, 1780. Hillsborough had been a place of rendezvous for all the militia .aised in the interior of North Carolina, and a stage of refreshment for all the troops which had marched from the northward to succor Charles- ton or reinforce the southern army ; consequently the resources of the coun- try had been collected and generally applied. What remained did not af- ford an ample supply even for the fugitives of the late army, which were now collected in the town, and were cantoned, some in the houses of the inhabitants, and some in tents pkched near the courthouse, where the assembly of the state was convened. The assembly saw and regretted the wants of the troops, and did all that was then practicable for then relief. A comfortable supply of fresh meat, corn-meal, and wheat-flour was procured for the hospital, and the rest of the men were subsisted bv iJro^isions furnished by state commissaries in part and partly by the a31 APPENDIX. old expedient of collecting by detachments — an expedient which gav« great umbrage to the country. At this time Lord Cornwallis was with the principal part of his army at Camden, where his own wounded and those of the American army were very differently treated. The worse than savage system of severity suggested by the malice of the king's minister, or conceived by the malignity of the king him- self, which had been so fatally practised upon the prisoners in New York and Philadelphia, was now practised with equal barbarity on the prisoners taken in the southern department. Everywhere tbey were treated with cruel neglect or insolent severity. The difference of cli- mates made some difference in consequences. The same treatment, or rather worse, was suffered by the inhabitants of the country who had ever been in arms, or were even suspected of disloyalty. Some who were accused of having received protections and violated the conditions were hung luithout any form of trial ! Prompt punishments for supposed crimes were inflicted at the will of superior officers in the dificrent British garrisons, and every measure was adopted which the arrogance of power could devise, to subjugate the minds as well as the privileges of the people. The want of energy in the union of the United States and the imbecility of the states themselves gave great latitude to the eflect of the British measures. Their emissaries were in all parts of the country, and were but too successful in the lower counties of North Carolina, where the inhabitants, except in and near the seaport towns, began to be generally disaffected to the Ameri- can cause. Even in Chatham county a considerable body took arms and threatened to disperse the assembly of the state from Hillsborough. Indeed, so serious was the alarm upon this occasion, that to guard against a surprise of the town on a night when the insurgents were confidently expected, all the troops were kept under arms the whole night.^ As no arrangement had yet taken place. General Gates de- sired Colonel Williams to command them. The inhabitants were or- dered to arm, and even the members of the assembly thought it incum- bent on them to arm themselves also. The following fact may illustrate their character, as well for patriotism as soldiership : — It was requested that a regular officer would lend his assistance in arranging the militia. The members of the assembly were coUecteil near the courthouse (the seat of government), and were arming them- selves when the officer arrived, who, taking them for the militia who stood in need of an adjutant, began the exercise of that office, and mar- shalied them in a manner which showed no respect for them as legis- lators. No exception, however, was taken to the conduct uf the officer- The circumstance was mentioned afterward, only as one of those ludi- crous incidents (and there were many) which occurred during the night of the alarm. Although the alarm proved false, it proved no less cer- tain that the enterprise might have been effected by a few brave meu, even on that very night, 'i'he hurry and confusion which it ocoa SOUTHERN ARMY EVENTS SUBSEQUENT TO 17S0. 385 •ioned discovered the expediency of re-establishing order among the troops, and every other man seemed to feel the obligation of giving his assistance as well to provide for present necessities as against future contingencies. Influenced by motives not to be disregarded, the gov- ernment of North Carohna soon began to exert all its powers. The second class of the militia were ordered to assemble immediately: com- missaries, quartermasters, and agents, with extensive pov/ers, were ap- pointed to procure every article requisite for another campaign ; and, for want of funds (for the paper-money of the United States was now depreciated below calculation), these officers were authorized to take, on the account of government, all military stores, arms, provisions, clothing, &c., that were to be found, and to grant receipts or certificates for the same. , Notwithstanding that the disasters of the southern army, and a sense of common danger, had seemingly obliterated all recollection of former differences and animosities among the officers of the regular corps, it ought not to be dissembled that such were among the causes which, for°a little time, postponed the new organization of the troops. What cause General Gates had to apprehend being superseded in the command of the southern army, may be conjectured by those who have a knowledge of the facts ; but what reason General Smallwood could have to hope to become his successor, none who are not grossly imposed on can possibly imagine. '^he misunderstanding between these two officers was never, I be- lieve, avowed ; but, as Gates rcassumed his command, Smallwood retired from it. ^ General Gist was not ambitious of the command of men so cncuin- stanced ; and, in foct, many other officers wished for an opportunity of returning home without a launel or a scar. A board of officers, convened by order of General Gates, deternrined that all the effective men should be formed into two battalions, consti- tuting one regiment, to be completely officered, and provided for in the best possible manner that circumstances would admit. The sick and convalescent were to remain, but all the invalids were to be sent home ; and the supernumerary officers were to repair to their respective states, to assist in the recruiting service. The connnand of the newly-formed regiment was given to Colonel Williams and Lieutenant-Colonel Howard. Majors Anderson and Hardman commanded the battalions. No sooner were these officers invested with command, than they began to restore order and discipline among the troops ; and the colonel, who was inspector of the Maryland division of the army of the United States (comprehending the quota of Delaware also), dei^anded a gen- eral order, before any of the officers should depart, for ths most correct returns that could be made under present circumstances, accountmg as well for the men as for tlieir arms, accoutrements, &c., &c. The lattei part of the order could not be complied within any satisfactory degree , 17 SSQ APPENDIX. but after some time, the officers, by comparing notes and recollecting circumstanceg, rendered returns, from which the following abstracts were taken : — Total of Maryland troops : Three colonels, four lieutenant-colonels, five majors, thirty-eight captains, fifty subalterns, twenty-four staff-offi- cers, eighty-five non-commissioned officers, sixty-two musicians, and seven hundred and eighty-one rank and file. The numl)ers wliicli were killed, captured, and missing, since the last muster, could not with any accuracy be ascertained. The aggre- gate was — three lieutenant-colonels, two majors, fifteen captains, thir- teen subalterns, two stafT-officcrs, fifty-two non-commissioned officers, thiity-four musicians, and seven hundred and eleven rank and file. These, at least a very great majority of them, and all of them for aught I know, fell in the field, or into the hands of the enemy, on the fatal 16th of August. It is extremely probable that the number killed much ex- ceeded the number taken prisoners. The Delaware regiment being mustered, the returns stood thus : Four captains, seven subalterns, three staff-officers, nineteen non-commissioned officers, eleven musicians, and one hundred and forty-five rank and file, in actual service, &c., &c., &c. Eleven commissioned officers and thirty- six privates of the Delaware regiment fell into the hands of the enemy. These details may not be unessential to those who have been con- cerned in the affinrs of the late campaign, and may give satisfaction to those of my friends who may wish hereafter to have a true knowledge of circumstances. The inhabitants of Hillsborough soon began to experience and com- plain of the inconvenience of having soldiers billeted among them ; and the officers were equally sensible of the difficulty of restraining the licentiousness of the soldiers, when not immediately under their obser- vation. Wiliiams therefore drew his regiment out of town, distributing the few tents he had among the several companies. He encamped on a vacant farm, or rather in the woodlar.d belonging to it, and covered his men with wigwams made of fence-rails, poles, and corn-tops, regu- larly disposed. The tents were chiefiy occupied by the oflicers, but as they were all much worn, wigwams were soon preferred, on account of their being much warmer. The usual camp guards and sentinels being posted, no person could come into or go out of camp without a permit. Parade duties were regularly attended, as well by officers as soldiers, and discipline not onl}' began to be perfectly restored, but even gave an air of stability and confidence to the regiment, which all their rags could not disguise. In this encampment no circumstance of want or distress was admitted as an excuse for relaxing from the sirictost discipline, to which the sol- diers the more cheerfully submitted, as they saw their officers constantly occupied in procuring for them whatever was attainable in their situ, tttion. Absolutely without pay, almost destitute of clothing, often with only SOUTHERN ARMY EVENVS SUBSEQUENT TO 1780. 387 a half ration, and never with a whole one (without substituting one article for another), not a soldier was heard to murmur after the third or fourth day of their being encamped. Instead of meeting '^nd con- ferring in small, sullen squads, as they had formerly done, they filled up the intervals from duty with manly exercises and field-sports ; in short, the officers had very soon the entire confidence of tlie men, who divested themselves of all unnecessary care, and devoted themselves to duty and pastime, within the limits assigned them. The docility and contentment of the troops were the more extraor- dinary, as they were not unfrequently reminded (when permitted to go into the country) how differently the British troops were provided for. ^..^^ The article of rum, the most desirable refreshment to soldiers, was / mentioned among other inducements for them to desert ; but so great was their fidelity to the cause, or so strong their attachment to their fellow sufferers and soldiers, that they not only rejected the most flat- tering propositions to go over to the enemy, but they absolutely brought $ome of the most bold and importunate incendiaries into camp, who were delivered to the civil authority, and some of them punished. If any of my friends should inquire why I descend to particulars so minute and unimportant, I answer that I am not writing a history of the revolution, nor of the proceedings of government; and that it is not unimportant for any officer to observe every incident in the life and conduct of a soldier which may in any degree serve to illustrate his disposition. The general characteristic of a corps should never be mistaken, by the commanding officer especially. Misunderstandings often arise from it, and the consequences are usually what might be expected — unfavorable to both officers and men. The legion commanded by Armand was, on the 8th of September, sent to forage and make cantonments in Warren county, whence Ar- mand went to Philadelphia, and never returned. General Gates did not conceal his opinion that he held cavalry in no estimation in the southern field. If he judged by the conduct of the legion, he ought to have confined his opinion to that corps particularly, for subsequent experience has evinced that no opinion could have been more erroneous. Two brass field-yneces, which General Gates had left under a small guard at Buffalo ford, for want of horses, the first day of his march after taking the command, were brought to camp with a few iron pieces picked up at Hillsborough, and formed a little park in the centre of the ragged regiment of Maryland and Delaware troops, which con- stituted the southern army \x\\i\\ the IGth of September, when Colonel Bufbrd arrived from Virginia with the mangled remains of his unfor- tunate regiment, reinforced by about two hundred raw recruits, all of them in a ragged condition. Uniforms and other clothing were to be sent after them, but never arrived. About the same time a small detachment of Virginia militia arrived, without even arms.. iSS APPENDIX. On the 18th, the relics of_rorterfieId's corps, about fifty efTectivo men, anivetl under the command ol' Captain Drew, and joined L'uford. Thus the remainder of those corps wliich had been recently cut to pieces, without being recruited or refurnished with clothing, camp equi page, &;c., necessary for a campaign, were hastily assembled to form the head of an army to act against their conquerors. 'J'he body of the proposed army was to consist of militia — the second class principally of those very mili'ia who had so shamefully abandoned some of these same regulars at Camden but a few weeks before. Confident hopes were, notwithstanding, entertained that the interior of the two Carolinas might be defended from the ravages of the enemy until Congress might gain time and find means to do something more eirectual. The officers and the men began to recover their usual spirits. Brig- adier-General Smallwood, weary of wailing events at obscure quarters, and dissatisfied (as every officer of 7'eul merit naturally is) of rank without command in time of war, suggested that, as there were two Fit liinal regiments and a company of artillery encamped, a nominal br..;ade might be formed, of which he claimed the command, and was gratified. Captain Anthony Singleton, of Virginia, coinmanded the artillery. About this time, Colonel Morgan, of Virginia, whose heroic conduct under General Montgomery at Quebec, General Gates at Saratoga, and in other meritorious actions, will secure him an honorable page in the history of the war in the north, arrived at camp, without command, and with only two or three young gentlemen attending him. The ])crfect security which Lord Cornwallis imagined resulted to his })osts and to the communications between them, and the presump- tion that all the lower part of the country was in a state of absolute subjection and tranquillity, in consequence of his extraordinary not to say accidental success, induced him to send a small guard from Cam- den to convey one hundred and fifty of his prisoners, principally regu- lars, to Charleston. Colonel Marion, of South Carolina, who has been mentioned in the previous part of these narratives, and who ought always to be men- tioned with respect, had been stimulating his countrymen to act in concert with General Gates, until after the unfortunate 16th of August, rihen he and his followers were obliged to secrete themselves in the swamps and deserts which intersect a considerable part of the lower country. From one of these hiding-places Marion suddenly fell upon the British guard, surprised, and made the whole of them- prisoners. He paroled the officers, and took a list of the privates to be exchanged. The American soldiers he sent oft', with proper guides, to Wilmington, having first distributed among them the arms of their captors. A cir- cumstance so honorable for a small squad of militia, particularly for their commanding officer, ought long to be remembered with admira' tion. Marion and his men retook to the swamps. SOUTHERN ARMY EVENTS SUBSEQUENT TO 1780. 3S9 On the report in camp of this fortunate event, Lieutenant-Colonel Commandant Ford, who had not availed himself of the permission for supernumeraries to return home, went to Wilmington to meet the re- leased caplives, and to conduct them to camp ; but as they had been subject to very little or no control after their releasement, being witn- out any of their own officers, and doubting of the existence of any con- siderable body of their fellow-soldiers, many of them repaired home with all the expedition they could make. Colonel Ford did not re- cover more than about one half of the number released by Marion ; and these, from their sufferings in captivity, their long and circuitous march from Camden to Vv ilmington, and thence by Cross creek to Hillsborough, and their want of almost all the necessaries of life, were very little fit for service. While the American troops were collecting at Hillsborough, meas- ures were taken by the state of North Carolina to expedite the embod}''- ing of the second class of their militia. To intimidate the people from complying with the requisitions of government to collect forage and provisions, and probably with an ex- pectation of striking terror through the country, Lord Cornwallis moved from Camden (in October) with a considerable body of troops, lightly equipped, which he led immediately to the town of Charlotte, and thence manoeuvred about the country as far north as Phifer's mills. But, although his lordship could and wou'd go where he pleased, he found himself much less at ease in this part of the country than in any other situation he had experienced. The militia of Mecklenberg and of Roan, the most inflexible whigs in the whole state, were continually in his presence. He could make no moveuient without being ob- served ; no negligence could be committed on his part of which they did not take advantage. Major Davie, with his mounted volunteers, equipped as dragoons, sometiaies intercepted his convoys of provis- ions, sometimes disturbed his pickets, and even once or twice in- suited the van of his army on its march. These, however, were feeble and ineffectual resistances. His lordship could " go where he pleased." This incursion of his lordship into the strongest part of the state stimulated the exertions of ti;e legislature in measures to organize and equip their militia for the field. '1 hey began to rendezvous in consid- erah.e numbers at Salisbury. Smallwood was complimented with a request of the executive to take command of them, Caswell's confi- dence in the courage of his countrymen not being yet restored ; and it was presumed that the militia would act with more subordination and perhaps witli more bravery under a continental general than under one >f their own neighbors. After making some conditions about horses hi himself and his suite, the general accepted the honor. At the same time it was contemplated to send forward as many of •-he regular troops as could be tolerably equipped for service; and it fortunately happened that at that time the state agents had forwarded 390 APPF,.\'1)IX. to HiHsborouijh a small supi'Iy of coarse clotliing and other artidcs convenient for the purpose. General Gates ordered a committee to attend to the equitable distri- bution of these stores among the rej:ular corps. But first, an appro- priation was to be made lor equipping four companies of light infontry to be drafted from the regiinents, and destined to form a part of the corps to be sent in advance. 'J^he execution of this part of the plan commenced on the 19th of October, the day the clothing arrived, an.d was very soon completed. The four companies of infantry were formed into one battalion, the command of Vv^hich was obtained by Lieutenant-Colonel Howard. About the 2d of November, Lieutenant-Colonels White and Wash- ington came to camp with a very few effectives of the first and third regiments of dragoons, which had also btcn surprised, routed, defeated, and cut to pieces, the preceding spring. \'\'!iite had leave to go to Philadelj)hia, and Washington remained in command of the remnants of both corps, consisting of sixty or seventy effectives. These corps joined the light infantry on their march toward Char- lotte. A small corps of riflemen (say sixty), under Major Rose, had also joined the light infantry at Hiil-sborough. The gallant Colonel Morgan then took the command of a I the light troops, and proceeded with them toward Charlotte, lie found the militia, under Smallwood, advanced as far as the Old Trading ford on the Yadkin river, seven miles from Salisbury, in safety. Lord Cornvvallis, without any known adequate cause, thou;j;ht proper to retire through Charlotte, cross the- Wateree river, and encamp at Winnsborough. It is not probable tliat he was deceived by any exaggerated account of the newly-levied mili- tia, nor is it probable that he had any fears from the relics of the corps which he had so recently cut to pieces. His lordship had been fa- tigued by the insolence of the volunteers, and chose to retire to a camp ^..jjJt^repose. \ I Colonel Williams succeeded General Sma'lvvood in the command of i ; the brigade of continental troops. The diminution of its numbers, by \ / the draft of four companies of light infantry, was in part restored by ^ / the arrival of recruits from Maryland and A^irgiiiia. These were con- ) stantly at the drill. A laboratory was erected, and employed in mend- ing arms; and the residue of the clothing, «&c., was distributed. Each man in the brigade was supplied with one new shirt, a short coat, a pair of woollen overalls, a pair of shoe?, and a hat or a cap. The dividend of blankets was very inadequate to the occasion ; they were apportioned to the companies : and every other practicable provision > was made to prepare the brigade for the field. The officers exerted themselves, and the soldiers were emulous who should be the first in readiness to march. Even the convalescents were impatient of being left behind, so generally had the martial spirit revived in the soldiery. The brigade marched on the second day of November, immediately tflar the light dragoons, with two brass field-pieces, some ammunition- SOUTHERN ARMY EVENTS SUBSEQUENT TO 1780. 391 wagons, and a small train of ba.Gfgage. They followed the route of the light infantry to Charlotte, where tliey encamped. The militia under Siisaliwood had a])parently taken a permanent position at Providence, about iburteen miles south of Charlotte ; and Morgan, now brigadier-general, was itinerant with his infantry about the Wateree. Lord Cornwallis continued with the principal part of his forces at Winnsborough, and kept up the garrisons of Camden and Clermont. ( Such were the relative situations of the two armies, when General ' Grkene arrived at Charlotte, on the 4tli of December, 1780. CiiAHLOTTE. — When Generul Gates luid reviewed and contemplated his situation at Charlotte, he considered it the most eligible place to en- camp for the winter with the principal part of his army. The light troops were to keep the field, and to act as an advance-guard. With this view, he ordered preparalims to be made for buildin-g huts, and directed General Morgan to make a foraging excursion toward Cam- den. On the very day of General Greene's arrival, and after he had assumed the command of the army, Morgan reported that he had made a tour into the country, in the vicinity of Camden, but found the cattle were taken off, and so little grain or forage left, as to make it scarcely worth the fatigue of the troops; but that, fortunately, an event had taken place which made some compensation for their toil. Mr. Rugely, proprietor of the farm ca'led Clermont, had obtained the rank of- lieutenant-colonel in the British army, and had obtained that of major for his son-in-law. These two officers, with about one hundred British troops and new levies, occupied a large log barn (the old council-chamber), which they fortified by a shght entrenchment and a line of abattis, so as to render it impregnable to small-arms. This post was on the left of Morgan's route, as he returned from for- aging, but too near to Camden for him to risk anything like a siege or blockade. It was suggested tha/ the cavalry might go and reconnoitre it. Washington, pleased with the idea, approached so near as to as- certain that the enemy had discovered him and were intimidated. He humorously ordered his men to plant the trunk of an old pine-tree, in tiie manner of a field-piece, pointing toward the garrison; at the same time, dismounting some of his men to appear as infantry, and display- ing his cavalry to the best advantage, he sent a corporal of dragoons to summon the commanding officer to an immediate surrender. The order was executed in so firm a manner, that Cooiiel Rugely did not hesitate to comply instantly ; and the whole garrison marched out prisoners-of-war. The corporal was made a sergeant of dragoons; the old fort was set on fire ; and Washington retired with his prisoners without exchanging a shot. Soldiers, like sailors, have always a little superstition about them. Although neither General Gates nor General Greene could be con- sidered as having any agency in this little successful affair, it was re- 392 APPENDIX. garded by some, and even mentioned, as a presage of the future good fortune which the army would derive from the genius of the latter. But I have superseded my old friend rather abruptly, and with almost as little ceremony as it was directed by Congress. As I ap})roach the close of tliis narrative, I assume the epistolary style, in which I intend to make all my future remarks, as tliey may thus be mere easily tran- scribed for connnuMicatioM. The letters which were addressed to Congress, respecting the over- throw of his whole army, were so vague and unsatisfactory, and others which were written were so disingenuous, that it was conceived by Congress absolutsdy requisite to have a full inquiry into the circum- stances of the campaign and tlie conduct of the commanding officer. General Washington was requested to nominate an officer to super- sede General Gates; and it was resolved that a court of inquiry should be iield, of which Major-General the Baron Steuben was appointed president. General (Jreene, whom General Washington distinguished by an election to the command of the southern army, arrived at head- quarters, as before observed, on the 4th of December, 1780, with full Dowers. A manly resignation marked the conduct of General Gates on the arrival of his successor, whom he received at headquarters W'ith that liberal and gentlemanly air which was habitual to him. General Greene observed a plain, candid, respectful manner, neither betraying compassion nor the want of it; nothing like the pride of offi- cial consequence even seemed. In short, the officers who were present had an elegant lesson of propriety exhibited on a most delicate and interesting occasion. General Greene was announced to the army as commanding officer by General Gates ; and the same day General Greene addressed the army, in which address he paid General Gates the compliment of con- firming all his standing orders. The detention of the baron Steuben in Virgmia, and no major-gen- eral being present or authorized to serve in his stead, made it impracti- cable to hold the court of inquiry at this time or place. General Gates therefore, with the approbation of Genera! Greene, repaired to Phila- delphia, in order to meet the charges and to counteract the calunniics against him. I can not conclude this narrative without remarking that a soldier's fame is always precarious during his life. If General Gates had fallen at the commencement of the action of Camden, who would not have acceded to the opinion that the disa.'^ters of the day were owing prin- ci{)ally to that circumstance? The laurels of Saratoga would have been ever green on his tomb, and history would have exulted in the merits of the hero ! What difference, in point of real merit, would tliere have been (or cauld there be) between falling by an early, accidental shot, or submit* ting to the irresistible impulse of the militia, vvlio went like a torrent SOUTHERN ARMY EVENTS SUBSEQUENT TO 178'J. 393 from the field, forcing almost everything before them ? And yet, •what a ditforence in the public opinion ! Instead of praises, panegyric, and monumental honors, he was censured, calumniated, and even con- demned, unheard. The severity of this treatment was aggravated by a recent event, which was carefully kept from his knowledge while in camp, but which too soon overwhelmed him in distress. His only son, an ele- gant young man, well educated, and just entering into active scenes of life, was suddenly cut off by the stroke of death. None but an unfortunate soldier, and a father left childless, could assimilate his feelings to those of this unhappy gentleman ; yet many sympathized with him, remembered his former public services, wished for the return of tranquillity to his afflicted mind, and hoped even for a res<^oration of his honors. General Greene took great pains to collect the best information rela- tive to the circumstances of the late campaign; and his communica- tions to influential characters finally determined Congress to rescind thf'r resolution respecting General Gates, and t<» Te^^f^r? hv2k to few eommand in the northern army. 3i^77-l