Cilass 
 
 Book lAi 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 
 
LIFE OF 
 PATRICK HENRY 
 
 BY 
 
 ALEXANDER H. EVERETT, LL.D. 
 
Uf 
 
 *^ A 
 
MAKERS OF 
 AMERICAN 
 H ISTOR Y 
 
 PATRICK HENRY 
 
 BY 
 
 ALEXANDER H. EVERETT 
 
 GENERAL GREENE 
 
 GENERAL LAFAYETTE 
 
 GENERAL MARION 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM T. HEADLEY 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY SOCIETY 
 
 INCORPORATED 
 
 NEW YORK 1904 
 

 THE LIBRARY OF 
 
 CONGRESS, 
 One Copy RECEfVEo 
 
 DEC. 1904 
 
 CoPVWOm- FNTW 
 
 CLASS <^XXa No. 
 COPY 8. 
 
 CoFYRi'GHT, I904 
 BY 
 
 The University Society, i] 
 
PATRICK HENRY 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 iirth and Parentage. — Education. — Commences Business as a 
 Merchant. — Fails, and attempts Agriculture. — Second un- 
 successful Attempt in Trade.— Marriage.— Admitted to the 
 Bar. 
 
 Patrick Henry is in more than in one particular 
 among the most remarkable characters of the Revo- 
 lutionary period of our country. He is declared by 
 Jefferson to have been *' the greatest orator that ever 
 lived," and " the person who, beyond all question, 
 gave the first impulse to the movement which ter- 
 minated in the Revolution." Whatever exaggera- 
 tion, if any, may be supposed to have crept into these 
 sweeping statements, it is certain that the merits and 
 services which had power to call them forth from 
 such a quarter must have been of no ordinary kind. 
 
 Indeed, the accounts that have been transmitted to 
 us of the actual effects of his eloquence upon the 
 minds of his hearers, though resting apparently on 
 the best authority, seem almost fabulous, and cer- 
 tainly surpass any that we have on record of the 
 results produced by the most distinguished orators 
 of ancient or modern Europe. Something must 
 
 7 
 
8 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 probably be allowed for the excited imagination of 
 the authors of these accounts; but the necessity for 
 making this allowance proves, of itself, the extent to 
 w^hich Henry possessed what may be regarded as the 
 essence of the highest kind of eloquence, together 
 with the power of strongly exciting the imagination 
 of his hearers. 
 
 His claim to the honor of having given the first 
 impulse to the Revolutionary movement, is a ques- 
 tion hardly susceptible of a satisfactory solution, 
 since no event, prior to the battle of Lexington and 
 the Declaration of Independence, was so decidedly 
 different in character from a variety of others occur- 
 ring at about the same time, as to merit, in contra- 
 distinction to them, the praise of being the first step 
 in the progress of the Revolution. It is certain, 
 however, that, in one of the two leading colonies, 
 during the period immediately preceding the Revolu- 
 tion, Henry was constantly in advance of the most 
 ardent patriots, and that he suggested and carried 
 into effect, by his immediate personal influence, 
 measures that were opposed as premature and vio- 
 lent by all the other eminent supporters of the cause 
 of Liberty. It was the good-fortune of Henry to 
 enjoy, during his lifetime, the appropriate reward 
 of his extraordinary meritsi, and the almost un- 
 bounded admiration and respect of his countrymen. 
 
 By general acknowledgment, the greatest orator 
 of his day ; elevated by his transcendent talents to a 
 sort of supremacy in the deliberative assemblies of 
 which he was occasionally a member, and the courts 
 of justice in which he exercised his profession; 
 
PATRICK HENRY 9 
 
 clothed, whenever he chose to accept them, with the 
 highest executive functions in the gift of the people ; 
 happy in his domestic relations and private circum- 
 stances, — his career was one of almost unbroken 
 prosperity. He has also been eminently fortunate 
 in the manner in which the history of his life has 
 been written. While the recollection of his elo- 
 quence and the admiration of his character were 
 still fresh in the minds of numerous surviving con- 
 temporaries, the task of collecting and recording the 
 expressions of them, which were circulating in con- 
 versation, or merely ephemeral notes, was under- 
 taken by one whose kindred eloquence and virtues 
 rendered him on every account the fittest person to 
 do justice to the subject. In the following sketch, 
 I can claim little other merit, than that of condens- 
 ing, with perhaps some few not very important mod- 
 ifications and additions, the glowing biography of 
 Wirt. 
 
 The gifted author is represented, on the same high 
 authority alluded to above, that of Jefferson, as 
 having been at times led by the enthusiasm with 
 which he entered into his subject to the verge of 
 fiction. Let us also apply to his work the title which 
 the great German poet, Goethe, prefixed to his own 
 Autobiography, — Poetry and Truth. The narra- 
 tive carries with it unquestionable evidence of au- 
 thenticity, as well in the known character of the 
 writer as in the authorities that are cited in support 
 of every important statement, while it is written 
 with so much warmth and elegance that it possesses 
 throughout all the charm of poetry, and perhaps pro- 
 
lO AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 duces, at times, a similar illusion. Although some 
 few passages are a little too-highly colored for the 
 eye of good-taste, there are few persons of eminence 
 who, after reading the whole, would not feel the 
 wish which Queen Katharine, in the play, expressed 
 in regard to her attendant, Griffith, that they might 
 find themselves as fond and faithful a chronicler. 
 
 The family of Patrick Henry was of Scottish 
 origin. His father, John Henry, was a native of 
 Aberdeen ; and he numbered among his family con- 
 nections some of the distinguished literary men of 
 the day, having been a nephew, in the maternal line, 
 to the historian Robertson, and cousin to David 
 Henry, the brother-in-law to Edward Cave, and his 
 successor in the conduct of the Gentleman's Maga- 
 zine. John Henry emigrated to Virginia some time 
 before the year 1730. He is said to have enjoyed 
 the friendship and patronage of Dinwiddie, after- 
 wards governor of the colony, who introduced him 
 to the elder Colonel Syme, of Hanover County. In 
 the family of the latter, Henry become domesticated, 
 and, after the death of the colonel, married his 
 widow and resided on the estate. He appears to 
 have enjoyed much consideration among his fellow- 
 citizens, having been colonel of his regiment, prin- 
 cipal surveyor of the county, and, for many years, 
 presiding magistrate of the county court. Some 
 years after his emigration, his brother Patrick, a 
 clergyman of the Church of England, followed him 
 to Virginia, and became, by his influence, minister 
 of St. Paul's parish in Hanover, a place which he 
 filled through life with high distinction. Both 
 
PATRICK HENRY II 
 
 brothers were conspicuous for their loyalty to the 
 king and their attachment to the church. 
 
 The widow of Colonel Syme, who became, as has 
 been said, the wife of John Henry and the mother 
 of Patrick, was a native of Hanover County, and a 
 daughter of the family of Winston, one of the most 
 respectable in the colony. So far as the eloquence 
 of Patrick Henry may be supposed to have been in 
 any degree hereditary, it seems to have been trans- 
 mitted to him through the maternal line. His mother 
 is represented as having been remarkable for a fluent 
 and easy elocution, and her brother. Judge Winston, 
 was declared by a contemporary, who knew him 
 well, to have been the greatest orator whom he had 
 ever heard, Patrick Henry alone excepted. When 
 the militia of Virginia were ordered, soon after 
 Braddock's defeat, to the frontiers, the company to 
 which Winston belonged, and of which he was lieu- 
 tenant, were so much disheartened by the severity 
 of the service that they were on the point of break- 
 ing out into mutiny, when Winston, by a well-timed 
 stump speech, succeeded in restoring order and in- 
 spired them with so much enthusiasm that they 
 called upon their officers to lead them at once against 
 the enemy. 
 
 It appears from these statements that the family 
 of Patrick Henry was among the most distinguished 
 in the colony. He was the second of nine chiMren, 
 and was born on the 29th of May, 1736, at the 
 family seat in Hanover County, called Studley. His 
 father removed,, not long after, to another seat in 
 the same county, then called Mount Brilliant, and 
 
12 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 now the Retreat; and it was here that Patrick was 
 educated. The family, though evidently in easy cir- 
 cumstances, does not seem to have been wealthy. 
 The father had opened a grammar school in his own 
 house; and Patrick, after having acquired the ele- 
 ments of learning at an infant school in the neigh- 
 borhood, was taken home, at ten years of age, to 
 continue his studies. Under his father's tuition, he 
 obtained some little smattering of the Latin lan- 
 guage and of mathematics. He had no inclination 
 whatever for book learning. As the discipline of 
 such a school was not likely to be severe, he seems 
 to have indulged, without much restraint, his taste 
 for rural sports and solitary rambles through the 
 neighboring fields and forests. iVt this period, he 
 showed no sign of the high intellectual qualities for 
 which he was afterwards distinguished. His per- 
 sonal appearance and manners were coarse and awk- 
 ward, his dress neglected, and his faculties entirely 
 obscured by habitual indolence. In mixed company 
 he contributed little or nothing to the conversation, 
 but is said to have listened with attention, and to 
 have been able afterwards to repeat much of what 
 had been said, with intelligent comments on the 
 characters of the speakers. This is the only particu- 
 lar in his youthful habits that has since been recol- 
 lected as having indicated in any degree his future 
 superiority. 
 
 Finding him wholly indisposed for literary and 
 professional pursuits, his father undertook to estab- 
 lish him in trade ; and, after placing him for a year 
 in the counting-room of a neighboring merchant, 
 
PATRICK HENRY 1 3 
 
 furnished him and his brother WilHam with a small 
 capital, upon which they commenced business. Wil- 
 liam, it seems, was still more indolent than his 
 brother; so that the management of the common 
 concern devolved chiefly upon Patrick, who dis- 
 played as little aptitude for mercantile affairs as he 
 had previously done for study. The confinement 
 which this employment rendered necessary was irk- 
 some to him ; and, although he was afterwards re- 
 marked for a rather thrifty disposition in his pecu- 
 niary affairs, the consequence, probably, of early em- 
 barrassments, he exhibited at this time an easiness 
 of temper, and a negligence in making his bargains, 
 which were not favorable to the success of the enter- 
 prise. Compelled to relinquish his habitual sports, 
 he resorted, as a substitute for them, to music, and 
 learned to play upon the violin and the flute. 
 
 He also began, for the first time, to show some 
 taste for reading; and exhibited, with increasing dis- 
 tinctness, the talent for nice observation of charac- 
 ter which he had shown in his childhood. He en- 
 couraged his customers, when they met in his shop, 
 to discuss questions which he suggested for their 
 consideration; and, without taking much part him- 
 self in the debate, derived his principal amusement 
 from comparing their habits of thought and action, 
 as developed in the course of their respective re- 
 marks. At other timesi. he entertained them by nar- 
 ratives gathered from his miscellaneous reading, or 
 framed by himself for the purpose. In these intel- 
 lectual exercises we begin to perceive the first dawn- 
 ing of the brilliant talents by which, in after-years, 
 
14 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 he SO often entranced his audience. They seem, 
 however, to have had no very favorable effect upon 
 the success of his enterprise, which, after the experi- 
 ment of a year, proved a faihu-e. WiUiam retired 
 at once from the concern, while Patrick was em- 
 ployed for two or three years afterwards in bringing 
 it to a close as well as he could. In the meantime, 
 at the age of eighteen, he had married Miss Shelton, 
 the daughter of a neighboring farmer, of excellent 
 character, but of narrow worldly fortune. 
 
 Unsuccessful alike in letters and in trade, the fu- 
 ture orator, or more probably his friends for him, 
 now directed his attention to agriculture. By the 
 joint aid of the two families the newly-married 
 couple were placed upon a small farm, from which, 
 with the aid of one or two slaves, with whom they 
 were also provided, they were to draw by the sweat 
 of their brows the means of subsistence. But the 
 indolent habits, and aversion to systematic labor of 
 any kind, which had occasioned the failure of his 
 former attempts to effect a permanent establishment 
 were equally fatal to this. After an experiment of 
 two years, he abandoned the farm, sold his property 
 at a loss for cash, invested the proceeds in merchan- 
 dise, and once more attempted fortune in the lottery 
 of trade. In resuming his business as a merchant, 
 he also resumed his former habits of conducting it. 
 He employed, 'as before, a large portion of his time 
 in conversation with his customers, or in music and 
 light reading; and he frequently closed his ware- 
 house for the purpose of pursuing his favorite recre- 
 ations in the open air. Thus conducted, it is not 
 
PATRICK HENRY 1 5 
 
 very singular that, after another two years' trial, the 
 second experiment in trade ended, like the former, 
 in bankruptcy. 
 
 The position of Henry, in a worldly view, was now 
 sufficiently embarrassing. He had lost all his lit- 
 tle property, and had no capacity for supporting his 
 family by any of the usual professions. His con- 
 nections had done all they could for him. A feebler 
 mind would have probably sunk under this com- 
 plication of difficulties. Henry, far from being in 
 any degree discouraged, was roused by it to the exer- 
 tions which alone were necessary to the development 
 of his splendid powers. Possessed, as he was at this 
 time, by an unconquerable passion for amusement, 
 probably nothing but absolute necessity of the most 
 urgent kind could have furnished the spur that was 
 wanting to his success ; so that he might afterwards 
 have said, with great propriety, in the words of an 
 ancient, " I should have been ruined, if I had not 
 been ruined." His biographers do not, however, 
 appear to have appreciated his character with perfect 
 correctness, when they attribute these repeated fail- 
 ures, in his attempts in business of different kinds, 
 to mere indolence. His mind was not deficient in a 
 principle of activity, but at this period it took ex- 
 clusively the direction of amusement. The indis- 
 pensable necessity of pursuing, with steady industry, 
 the substantial objects of life, had not yet been 
 brought home to him, and he yielded without resist- 
 ance to the promptings of his naturally exuberant 
 animal spirits. Even at the lowest ebb of his world- 
 ly fortunes, his disposition for sport and pleasantry 
 
l6 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 remained unimpaired. Mr. Jefferson saw him for 
 the first time at this period, and afterwards gave, in 
 a letter to Mr. Wirt, the following account of his 
 appearance and manners. Henry was then twenty- 
 four years of age. 
 
 " My acquaintance with Mr. Henry commenced 
 in the year 1759-60. On my way to college, I 
 passed the Christmas holidays at Colonel Dan- 
 dridge's, in Hanover, to whom Mr. Henry was a 
 near neighbor. During the festivity of the season, 
 I met him in society every day, and we became well- 
 acquainted, although I was much his junior, being 
 then in my seventeenth year, and he a married man. 
 His manners had something of coarseness in them ; 
 his passion was music, dancing, and pleasantry. He 
 excelled in the last, and it attached every one to him. 
 You ask some account of his mind and information 
 at this period; but you will recollect that we were 
 almost continually engaged in the usual revelries of 
 the season. The occasion, perhaps, as much as his 
 idle disposition, prevented his engaging in any con- 
 versation which might give the measure of his mind 
 or information. Opportunity was not, indeed, 
 wholly wanting, because Mr. John Campbell was 
 there, who had married Mrs. Spotswood, the sister 
 of Colonel Dandridge. He was a man of science, 
 and often introduced conversation on scientific sub- 
 jects. Mr. Henry had, a little before, broken up his 
 store, or rather it had broken him up; but his mis- 
 fortunes were not to be traced either in his coun- 
 tenance or his conduct." 
 
 But though the absorbing passion for pleasure, 
 
PATRICK HENRY 1 7 
 
 which at this time formed the distinguishing charac- 
 teristic of Henry's mind, had been fatal to his suc- 
 cess in the various employments which he had 
 hitherto attempted, it had not entirely deprived him 
 of proper intellectual culture. During his first ex- 
 periment in trade, he had devoted, as has been said, 
 a part of his leisure to light reading. In the course 
 of the second, which was of somewhat longer dura- 
 tion, he extended his studies to subjects of a more 
 serious character, and made himself familiar with 
 geography and history, particularly the documentary 
 and political history of Virginia. Multum, non 
 miilta, (much, but not a great many books,) is the 
 well-known rule for judicious and profitable 
 reading. 
 
 This rule was enforced upon Henry by the cir- 
 cumstances of the times and country in which he 
 lived. Cheap literature was not yet in fashion, and 
 in settlements so remote from the central points of 
 civilization as the interior of Virginia then was, the 
 supply of even standard works was not abundant. 
 A person who had acquired a taste for reading could 
 gratify it only by repeated perusals of a few writers. 
 The historians of Greece and Rome, whom he r^ad 
 in English translations, were his favorite study. 
 Livy, in particular, was a sort of manual with him ; 
 and he subsequently informed a friend, that, in the 
 earlier part of his life, he made it a rule to read the 
 whole of this charming writer as often at least as 
 once in every year. The Virginian Demosthenes 
 was imitating, perhaps without knowing it, the ex- 
 ample of his great prototype, who is said to have 
 
 A. B., VOL. ni. —2 
 
1 8 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 copied the whole of Thucydides eight times with his 
 own hand. The remarkable and sfgnificant fact just 
 alluded to shows the vigor with which Henry's nat- 
 urally elevated mind, though incapable of binding 
 itself down to the uncongenial tasks which had thus 
 far been presented to it, soared above the sphere of 
 its habitual pursuits and pleasures in search of intel- 
 lectual nutriment suited to its character. 
 
 How infinitely preferable was this course of read- 
 ing, whether considered in its effect on the judg- 
 ment, the feelings, or the taste, to the confused mass 
 of magazines, reviews, and novels, that occupy the 
 hours of students of the present day! In the con- 
 stant use of this noble manual we may, no doubt, 
 trace, in no light degree, the energy of purpose, the 
 high tone of moral sentiment, the sound practical 
 wisdom, in short, the Roman cast of character, using 
 the phrase in the best sense, which marked through- 
 out the course of Henry, and which, but for the fact 
 just mentioned, would have been unexplained by any 
 known circumstances in his early pursuits and 
 studies. With such training, however irregularly 
 obtained, and with the splendid capacities which 
 were yet to be developed, it only remained for Henry 
 to place himself in a situation where his talents 
 would be brought into exercise, in order to assume 
 at once the eminent position to which they entitled 
 him. The moment was, however, critical; another 
 mistake in the choice of a profession, like those 
 which he had already made, and ending in a continu- 
 ation of his former ill-success, would have con- 
 demned him for life to hopeless dependence and utter 
 
PATRICK HENRY I9 
 
 insignificance. On the contrary, he was still young 
 enough to reclaim, by a vigorous application of his 
 powers to the uses for which they were intended, the 
 time that he had lost, and to enter, with still un- 
 clouded prospects of success, on the business of life. 
 
 Everything depended on the course which he was 
 now to take; and his -decision proved to be a most 
 fortunate one for himself and his country. Baffled 
 in his efforts to provide for his family in any of the 
 less conspicuous occupations, he resolved to grasp 
 at the highest and most difficult of all, the practice of 
 law. It may be doubted, however, whether his 
 views, in adopting the legal profession, went beyond 
 the acquisition of a moderate subsistence. He was 
 still unconscious of the extent of his abilities, and 
 may, perhaps, have been determined on selecting an- 
 other employment, by the fact that he could attempt 
 the bar without the necessity of a moneyed capital, 
 rather than by any anticipation of the eminence 
 which he afterwards acquired. His situation ren- 
 dered it, of course, important to contract as much 
 as possible the time of preparation. 
 
 Judge Tyler, the father of the one-time president 
 of the United States, was informed by Henry him- 
 self that he devoted one month only to this purpose, 
 during which he read only Coke upon Littleton, and 
 the Virginia statutes. Mr. Jefferson, who was in 
 the college at Williamsburg when Henry came there 
 to obtain his license, was told by himself that he had 
 studied only six weeks. Other accounts fix the time 
 at six, eight, and nine months ; but these variations 
 are of little importance. It was not unnatural, that, 
 
20 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 under these circumstances, he should have found 
 some difficulty in obtaining the necessary license 
 from the board of examiners, which appears to have 
 consisted of John and Peyton Randolph, Judge 
 Wythe, and Robert C. Nicholas, all of them persons 
 of superior talent and the highest eminence in the 
 profession. According to the account of Mr. Jef- 
 ferson, who was on the spot at the time, and partially 
 acquainted with the circumstances, though he may 
 not have remembered them so accurately as Henry 
 himself, the two Randolphs, who were persons of 
 great facility of temper, first consented to sign the 
 license, though with great reluctance. Wythe posi- 
 tively refused, and Nicholas at first declined, but 
 finally, after great importunity and promises of fu- 
 ture reading, gave his name, which completed the 
 necessary number. 
 
 In the account given by Judge Tyler of a conversa- 
 tion which he had with Henry himself on the same 
 subject, he is represented as having said, that, after 
 obtaining the signatures of two of the examiners, he 
 presented himself to John Randolph, afterwards at- 
 torney-general of the colony, a profound lawyer and 
 a polished gentleman. Finding how little he had 
 read, and not being favorably impressed with his 
 appearance and manner, Randolph at first refused 
 to examine Henry, but at length, on being told that 
 he had already obtained two signatures, began to 
 interrogate him, though with evident reluctance. 
 The replies made by Henry satisfied him at once that 
 he was no common man. He then entered upon an 
 examination, which lasted several hours, embracing 
 
PATRICK HENRY 21 
 
 not only the local and colonial law, but the whole 
 field of jurisprudence, in its widest extent, including 
 the law of nations and general history. In the 
 course of the examination, in order to test the logical 
 ability of the candidate, Randolph disputed some of 
 his positions, and drew him into a discussion, at the 
 close of which he admitted that Henry had the best 
 of the argument. He finally gave his signature, 
 with the flattering remark that he would never be 
 deceived by appearances again ; and that, if Henry's 
 industry should be at all proportioned to his genius, 
 he would become very shortly an ornament to his 
 profession. 
 
 Such were the auspices under which Patrick 
 Henry was admitted to the bar. Ignorant, as he 
 was, not only of law as a science, and of the most 
 familiar forms of its practical administration, in- 
 capable, as is said, of drawing a declaration or mak- 
 ing a motion in court, it is not very wonderful that 
 he obtained at first but little employment. His 
 uncle, Judge Winston, states that, during the first 
 four years after he received his license, he remained 
 entirely undistinguished. His circumstances were 
 extremely narrow, and he appears to have resided 
 the greater part of the time with his father-in-law, 
 Mr. Shelton, who then kept a tavern at Hanover 
 court-house. When Shelton was absent from home, 
 Henry ofiiciated in his stead, and probably lent him 
 at other times such aid as was necessary. This fact 
 accounts for the statement which has sometimes been 
 made, and which does not seem to be very far from 
 the truth, that he was at one period in his early life 
 a bar-keeper at a tavern. 
 
22 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 The rumor, so far as it is well-founded, adds 
 another to the numerous occupations through which 
 the brilliant orator was compelled to make his way 
 to distinction. At length the clouds that had so 
 long hovered over his prospects cleared away. The 
 celebrated Parsons' Cause, as it is still called in 
 Virginia, afforded him the opportunity, which alone 
 was wanting, to establish his powers, and placed him 
 at once at the head of the profession. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 The Parson's Cause. — First Remarkable Exhibition of 
 Henry's Eloquence. 
 
 The account of the Parsons' Cause is one of those 
 passages in the Hfe of Henry in which poetry appears 
 to be in some degree mingled with truth; nor is it 
 easy, with the information now before us, to say 
 with entire certainty what parts of the narrative 
 appertain respectively to one or the other of these 
 departments. The particulars of the affair are 
 briefly as follows : 
 
 The Parsons' Cause was an action brought by the 
 Rev. James Maury, in the county court of Hanover 
 County, against the collector of taxes for that county 
 and his sureties, for the recovery of damages for the 
 non-payment of a certain quantity of tobacco, alleged 
 to be due to him on account of his salary. The 
 claim was founded in a statute of the colony, origi- 
 nally passed in the year 1696, and reenacted with 
 amendments, in the year 1748, which fixed the an- 
 nual stipend of a parish minister at sixteen thousand 
 pounds of tobacco, and authorized him to demand 
 payment in the article itself. He was, of course, at 
 liberty to receive it in any other way that might suit 
 his convenience. The common market price of to- 
 
 23 
 
24 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 bacco had, for a long time, remained stationary at 
 two pence the pound, or sixteen shilHngs and eight 
 pence the hundred, and the clergy were in the habit 
 of commuting the delivery of the article in kind for 
 a money payment calculated on this basis. 
 
 In the year 1755, the crop of tobacco having fallen 
 short, the price rose to fifty or sixty shillings the 
 hundred. In order to relieve the planters from the 
 effect of this accidental change in the value of the 
 article, the Legislature passed an Act authorizing 
 them, for the present year, to pay in money such of 
 these debts as might be due in tobacco, at the rate of 
 sixteen shillings and eight pence the hundred. The 
 Act was to continue in force for ten months, and 
 went into effect immediately, not having contained 
 the clause which was usually inserted in the Acts of 
 the Colonial Legislature, suspending their operation 
 until they should receive the royal assent. No oppo- 
 sition was made by the clergy to the execution of 
 this law, which was regularly carried into effect dur- 
 ing the period for which it was enacted. 
 
 Three years afterwards, in the year 1758, in con- 
 sequence of the probability of the occurrence of an- 
 other short crop, the law of 1755 was reenacted, and, 
 as before, without the clause requiring the royal as- 
 sent. The clergy now took alarm, and the measure 
 was attacked in a vigorous pamphlet, entitled The 
 Two-penny Act, published by the Rev. John Camm, 
 rector of York-Hampton parish, and Episcopalian 
 commissary for the colony. He was answered in 
 two pamphlets, one written by Colonel Richard 
 Bland, and the other by Colonel Landon Carter, in 
 
PATRICK HENRY 2$ 
 
 which the commissary was treated without much 
 ceremony. He repHed in a still more pointed 
 pamphlet, entitled The Colonels Dismounted. The 
 colonels rejoined, and a war of pamphlets followed, 
 which created great excitement throughout the col- 
 ony. The popular sentiment appears to have been 
 adverse to the pretensions of the clergy, and at 
 length became so strong that the printers within the 
 colony refused to publish for them, so that Mr. 
 Camm was finally compelled to resort to Maryland 
 for a publisher. 
 
 The pamphlets which were elicited by this con- 
 troversy are still extant, and Mr. Wirt remarks, that 
 '' It seems impossible to deny, at this day that the 
 clergy had much the best of the argument." This, 
 however, seems to be a merely technical view of the 
 subject, founded on the idea that the colonial laws 
 were not valid without the royal assent and that the 
 clergy had, of course, retained throughout the whole 
 afifair all the rights that were vested in them by the 
 Act of 1748. Such, probably, was the correct con- 
 struction of the law ; but it seems to be clear that the 
 equity of the affair was on the other side, and that, 
 so far as the argument turned upon any other topic 
 than that of strict legal right, the planters were able 
 to make "out a very strong case. The Act of 1748 
 was a liberal and beneficial statute, intended to se- 
 cure the clergy against the effect of fluctuations in 
 the value of money ; and it was hardly fair or honor- 
 able in the clergy to take advantage of this act of 
 liberality in the planters, to extort from them, in a 
 time of scarcity, triple the amount of the usual sti- 
 
26 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 pend. If the rise in the price of tobacco had been 
 the effect of a depreciation in the vahie of money, 
 and had extended to all other articles, the equity 
 would have been with the clergy, because they could 
 not have obtained the real value of their usual sti- 
 pend without receiving it in kind. 
 
 But as the rise took place in the article of tobacco 
 only, being the effect of a short crop, while the value 
 of money remained the same, the clergy, by com- 
 muting the payment in tobacco for a money payment 
 at the former price, would have received the full 
 amount of their usual salary, and this was all that 
 they could fairly claim. Mr. Wirt remarks that they 
 could not help observing the benefits resulting from 
 the Act to the rich planters, who received fifty or 
 sixty shillings the hundred for their tobacco, while 
 they were paying their tobacco debts at the rate of 
 sixteen shillings and eight pence. He does not seem 
 to have recollected that the rise in the price of tobacco 
 was the effect of a reduction in the quantity. If the 
 planter, by selling a crop of only a-third of the ordi- 
 nary amount for three times the usual price was able 
 to avoid the injurious effect of a short crop, he was 
 still in no better condition than he would have been 
 if the rise had not occurred; and if he paid his to- 
 bacco debts in kind at the existing high prices he 
 sustained an actual loss equal to two-thirds of the 
 amount due. It was not fair, as has been remarked, 
 for the clergy to extort this difference under pretence 
 of a law which the planters had passed for the relief 
 and benefit of the order. If, therefore, the law was 
 with the clergy, the equity was clearly with the plant- 
 
PATRICK HENRY 2/ 
 
 ers. The legal objection to the Act of 1748 was also 
 one of the narrowest kind, and was, in reality, scarce- 
 ly tenable. 
 
 Admitting, as a general rule, that the Acts of a 
 Colonial Legislature were not valid without the royal 
 assent, it could not well be denied that a legislature, 
 situated at such an immense distance from the 
 mother country, must be supposed to possess some 
 discretionary power to proceed without direct author- 
 ity from home in a case of real necessity, and this 
 was obviously one of that kind. The state of the 
 crop could not be ascertained much in advance of tly* 
 time when it would be brought to market; and, in 
 order to meet the emergency, the law must be en- 
 acted and carried into effect, before, in that day of 
 protracted voyages and slow communications, there 
 would be time to submit it to the eye of majesty. If 
 substantial justice required the adoption of such a 
 measure, and it was really impossible, under the 
 circumstances, to have the royal assent, the Act 
 might well have been regarded, even without such 
 assent, as technically valid; more especially as the 
 mutual prerogatives of the local and imperial gov- 
 ernments were far from being accurately settled. 
 At all events, the right, taking into view both law 
 and equity, was by no means so clearly on the side 
 of the clergy as Mr. Wirt represents it; and it is not 
 at all surprising that the champions of the planters, 
 arguing the case as they probably did chiefly on 
 grounds of common sense and substantial justice, 
 were able to make a strong impression upon the 
 minds of the people. 
 
28 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 The affair was brought before the king in council ; 
 and that body, sustaining naturally enough the con- 
 struction of the law, and favorable to the royal pre- 
 rogative, declared the Act of 1758 null and void for 
 want of the royal assent. Finding themselves sup- 
 ported in their pretensions by this high authority, 
 the clergy undertook to enforce them by legal 
 process, and commenced a number of suits for the 
 recovery of their salaries in tobacco, of which that 
 institution by Maury was one. Another of the same 
 kind was commenced in the same county by the Rev. 
 Patrick Henry, who has already been mentioned as 
 the orator's uncle. The fact that Henry was not em- 
 ployed by his uncle in this interesting cause is a 
 strong proof that little was yet expected, even by 
 those who knew him best, and felt the deepest in- 
 terest in his welfare, from his future efforts in his 
 new profession. 
 
 The plaintiff, in this case of Maury, as I have re- 
 marked before, founded his claim on the statute of 
 1748. The defendant pleaded specially that of 1758 ; 
 and to this plea the plaintiff demurred ; or, in other 
 words, replied that this Act could not operate, in 
 law, to set aside the plaintiff's claim ; first, because 
 it had not received the royal assent, and, secondly, 
 because it had been declared null and void by the 
 king in council. The legal question was argued at 
 the November term of the year 1763, by Mr. Lyons 
 for the plaintiff, and Mr. John Lewis for the defend- 
 ants, when the court, " very much," says Mr. Wirt, 
 '' to the credit of their candor and firmness, breasted 
 the popular current by sustaining the demurrer." 
 
PATRICK HENRY 29 
 
 The clergy, having obtained a decision of the court 
 in their favor, on the only objection that had been 
 raised by the planters, naturally considered their 
 cause as gained. It only remained for a jury to give 
 the damages; but this was regarded as a merely 
 formal proceeding, because the amount was supposed 
 to be settled by the statute of 1748. The action was 
 continued for this purpose; but the counsel for the 
 defendants, Mr. Lewis, viewing the only point of 
 importance as settled, and his services as no longer 
 necessary, retired from the case. It was at this stage 
 in the progress of the affair, and in consequence of 
 the retirement of Mr. Lewis, that Patrick Henry was 
 retained by the defendants. Probably the case was 
 now supposed to have been brought within so narrow 
 a compass that it might be safely intrusted to a 
 junior member of the bar hitherto unknown to the 
 public. 
 
 Whatever may have been the views of the de- 
 fendants in retaining him, Henry, on being applied 
 to, consented to take charge of the affair, and to 
 argue the question of damages before the jury. The 
 case came on for trial on the ist of December, 1763, 
 before the county court, in which the father of Henry 
 sat as presiding magistrate. The position of the 
 young barrister was, in fact, a rather singular one. 
 He was to speak for the first time in open court be- 
 fore his own father as presiding magistrate, in a case 
 in which the court had already given a deliberate 
 opinion in favor of the other party, and in which his 
 uncle was interested against him. 
 
 The excitement on the subject was so great 
 
30 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 throughout the colony that, even at this late period 
 in the proceedings, a large audience attended, not 
 only from Hanover, but from the neighboring coun- 
 ties. The clergy, in particular, appeared in great 
 force, and among them came the orator's uncle. On 
 seeing him approach, Henry walked up to him, in 
 company with Colonel Meredith, and expressed his 
 regret at seeing his uncle there. " Why so? " in- 
 quired the uncle. " Because," replied Henry, *' I fear 
 that, as I have never yet spoken in public, I shall be 
 too much overawed by your presence to do justice to 
 my clients. Besides," he added, " I shall be under 
 the necessity of saying some hard things of the 
 clergy, which it may be unpleasant to you to hear." 
 His uncle now censured him for having undertaken 
 the case on the side of the planters, which Henry 
 excused by saying that he had had no offer from the 
 clergy ; and that, independently of this, his own heart 
 and judgment were on the side of the people. He 
 then requested his uncle to leave the ground. '' Why, 
 Patrick," said the old gentleman, with a good-na- 
 tured smile, " as to your saying hard things of the 
 clergy, I advise you to be cautious, as you will be 
 more likely to injure your own cause than theirs. As 
 to my leaving the ground, I fear, my boy, that, with 
 such a case to defend, my presence will do you but 
 little harm or good. Since, however, you seem to 
 think otherwise, and desire it of me so earnestly, you 
 shall be gratified." He then entered his carriage 
 again and returned home. 
 
 This little anecdote, which I have given nearly in 
 the words of Mr. Wirt, is equally creditable to both 
 
PATRICK HENRY 31 
 
 parties, and affords a pleasing proof of the mutual 
 good-feeling, which, under somewhat trying circum- 
 stances, was maintained among the different mem- 
 bers of the family. It is impossible to do full justice 
 to the scene that followed without quoting the 
 description of it in the language of the eloquent 
 biographer. 
 
 '' Soon after the opening of the court, the cause 
 was called. It stood on a writ of inquiry of dam- 
 ages, no plea having been entered by the defendants 
 since the judgment on the demurrer. The array 
 before Mr. Henry's eyes was now most fearful. On 
 the bench sat more than twenty clergymen, the most 
 learned men in the colony, and the most capable, as 
 well as the severest critics before whom it was possi- 
 ble for him to have made his debut. The court-house 
 was crowded with an overwhelming multitude, and 
 surrounded w^ith an immense and anxious throng, 
 which, not finding room to enter, was endeavoring 
 to listen without in the deepest attention. But there 
 was something still more awfully disconcerting than 
 all this ; for in the chair of the presiding magistrate 
 sat no other person than his own father. Mr. Lyons 
 opened the case very briefly. In the way of argu- 
 ment he did nothing more than explain to the jury 
 that the decision upon the demurrer had put the Act 
 of 1758 entirely out of the way, and left the law of 
 1748 as the only standard of damages. He then 
 concluded with a highly- wrought eulogium on the 
 benevolence of the clergy. 
 
 " And now came on the first trial of Patrick 
 Henry's strength. No one had ever heard him speak. 
 
32 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 and curiosity was on tiptoe. He rose very awkward- 
 ly, and faltered much in his exordium. The people 
 hung their heads at so unpromising a commence- 
 ment ; the clergy were observed to exchange sly looks 
 with each other, and his father is described as having 
 almost sunk with confusion from his seat. But these 
 feelings were of short duration, and soon gave place 
 to others of a different character. For now were 
 those wonderful faculties which he possessed, for 
 the first time developed, and now was first witnessed 
 that mysterious and almost supernatural transforma- 
 tion of appearance which the fire of his own elo- 
 quence never failed to work in him. For, as his mind 
 rolled along, and began to glow from its own action, 
 all the exuvicu of the clown seemed to shed them- 
 selves spontaneously. His attitude, by degrees, be- 
 came erect and lofty. The spirit of his genius 
 awakened all his features. His countenance shone 
 with a nobleness and grandeur which it had never 
 before exhibited. There was a lightning in his eyes 
 that seemed to rivet the spectator. His action be- 
 came graceful, bold, and commanding; and in the 
 tones of his voice, but more especially in his em- 
 phasis, there was a peculiar charm, a magic, of 
 which any one who ever heard him will speak as soon 
 as he is named, but of which no one can give any 
 adequate description. They can only say that it 
 struck upon the ear and upon the heart, in a manner 
 ivhich language cannot relate. Add to all these his 
 wonder-working fancy, and the peculiar phraseology 
 in which he clothed his images ; for he painted to the 
 heart with a force that almost petrified it. In the 
 
PATRICK HENRY 33 
 
 language of those who heard him on this occasion, 
 ' he made their blood run cold and their hair to rise 
 on end.' 
 
 '' It will not be difficult for any one who ever 
 heard this most extraordinary man to believe the 
 whole account of this transaction, which is given by 
 his surviving hearers; and from their account the 
 court-house at Hanover must have exhibited, on this 
 occasion, a scene as picturesque as has ever been wit- 
 nessed in real life. They say that the people, whose 
 countenances had fallen as he arose, had heard but a 
 very few sentences before they began to look up; 
 then to look at each other with surprise, as if doubt- 
 ing the evidence of their own senses ; then, attracted 
 by some strong gesture, struck by some majestic atti- 
 tude, fascinated by the spell of his eye, the charm of 
 his emphasis, and the varied and commanding ex- 
 pression of his countenance, they could look away 
 no more. In less than twenty minutes they might 
 be seen in every part of the house, on every bench, 
 in every window, stooping forward from their 
 stands, in death-like silence; their features fixed in 
 amazement and awe; all their senses listening and 
 riveted upon the speaker, as if to catch the last strain 
 of some heavenly visitant. The mockery of the 
 clergy was soon turned into alarm; their triumph 
 into confusion and despair ; and, at one burst of his 
 rapid and overwhelming invective, they fled from the 
 bench in precipitation and terror. As for the father, 
 such was his surprise, such his amazement, such his 
 rapture, that, forgetting where he was, and the char- 
 acter which he was filling, tears of ecstasy streamed 
 
 A. B., VOL. in.— 3 
 
34 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 down his cheeks, without the power or inclination to 
 repress them. 
 
 '' The jury seem to have been so completely be- 
 wildered that they lost sight not only of the Act of 
 1748, but of that of 1758 also; for, thoughtless even 
 of the admitted right of the plaintiff, they had scarce- 
 ly left the bar when they returned with a verdict of 
 one penny damages. A motion was made for a new 
 trial ; but the court, too, had now lost the equipoise 
 of their judgment, and overruled the motion by a 
 unanimous vote. The verdict and judgment over- 
 ruling the motion were followed by redoubled accla- 
 mations from within and without the house. The 
 people, who had with difficulty kept their hands off 
 their champion, from the moment of his closing his 
 harangue, no sooner saw the fate of the cause finally 
 sealed, than they seized him at the bar, and, in spite 
 of his own exertions and the continued cry of * Or- 
 der,' from the sheriff and the court, they bore him 
 out of the court-house, and, raising him on their 
 shoulders, carried him about the yard in a kind of 
 electioneering triumph." 
 
 His father is represented as having been so much 
 overwhelmed as to lose, for the time, the power of 
 expressing his feelings. A few days after, in con- 
 versation with his brother-in-law, Judge Winston, 
 he alluded to the scene in the following simple terms, 
 which contrast rather singularly with the gorgeous 
 phraseology of Mr. Wirt. " Patrick spoke in this 
 cause near an hour, and in a manner that surprised 
 me. He showed himself well-informed upon a sub- 
 ject of which I did not think he had any knowledge.** 
 
PATRICK HENRY 35 
 
 " I have tried much/' continues Mr. Wirt, *' to 
 procure a sketch of this celebrated speech. But those 
 of Mr. Henry's hearers who survive seem to have 
 been bereft of their senses. They can only tell you, 
 in general, that they were taken captive, and were so 
 delighted with their captivity that they followed im- 
 plicitly whithersoever he led them; that, at his bid- 
 ding, their tears flowed from pity and their cheeks 
 flushed with indignation; that, when it was over, 
 they felt as if they had just awakened from some 
 ecstatic dream, of which they were unable to recall 
 or connect the particulars. It was such a speech as 
 they believe had never before fallen from the lips of 
 man ; and, to this day, the old people of that county 
 cannot conceive that a higher compliment can be 
 paid to a speaker than to say of him, in their own 
 homely phrase, ' He is almost equal to Patrick, when 
 he pleaded against the parsons.' " 
 
 In this account of the character and effect of 
 Henry's argument there is obviously a large mixture 
 of the poetical element, carried, in fact, rather be- 
 yond the limits of good-taste in the forms of expres- 
 sion. The main facts are, however, of such a kind 
 that they cannot well have been fabricated or mis- 
 represented. The verdict of the jury and the opin- 
 ions of the court are matters of record; the eager 
 attention of the audience during the argument, and 
 the popular triumph at the close, are quite in accord- 
 ance with the general character of the scene. The 
 only statement of fact that wears a rather doubtful 
 appearance is " the flight of the clergy in precipita- 
 tion and terror from the bench." Whatever disgust 
 
36 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 or indignation may have been excited iti their minds 
 by the invectives of Henry, there was no reason to 
 apprehend any danger to their personal safety. 
 
 The fact, probably, was that one or more, possibly 
 the whole body of the clergy, on escertaining the line 
 of argument which he intended to pursue retired 
 from the bench, not in terror, but from unwillingness 
 to listen to a furious attack on their own Order. The 
 irregularity of the proceeding does not seem to have 
 been quite so great as Mr. Wirt represents it. He 
 says that the subject of the Act of 1758, and the or- 
 der of council respecting it, had been disposed of at 
 the preceding term, and that, strictly speaking, 
 neither Henry nor the jury had anything to do with 
 this part of the case; that the jury, in giving merely 
 nominal damages, had lost sight, not only of the Act 
 of 1758, but of that of 1748, and of the admitted 
 right of the plaintiff ; and that the court, in overrul- 
 ing the motion for a new trial, showed that '' they 
 had lost the equipoise of their judgment." He can 
 only account for such proceedings in part by the sup- 
 posed laxity of the county court practice, and in part 
 by the overwhelming effect of Henry's eloquence. 
 
 In reality, however, although the court had de- 
 cided at the preceding term that the demurrer was 
 good in law, it remained for the jury to settle, as a 
 question of fact, the amount of damage actually suf- 
 fered. Supposing the law to be with the clergy, sub- 
 stantial justice might still be on the other side; and 
 in that case the damage sustained by the clergy was 
 of the kind described in the books as damnum absque 
 injuria (damage without injury). In such a case, a 
 
PATRICK HENRY 3/ 
 
 verdict of nominal damages is obviously the proper 
 one, the precise object of such a verdict being to 
 recognize the existence of a legal right on one side, 
 and an equitable one on the other ; nor does it appear 
 that the court had any sufficient motive for granting 
 a new trial. The law question had been decided at 
 the preceding term, agreeably to the views of the 
 party making the motion, and, of course, did not re- 
 quire to be reconsidered. The verdict of the jury, 
 whether right or wrong, was within the form of law, 
 and was liable to no exception which would justify 
 an application for a new trial. 
 
 The case, as I have remarked before, was a good 
 deal stronger against the clergy than Mr. Wirt is 
 inclined to represent it, and seems, on the whole, to 
 have been disposed of, at every stage of the pro- 
 ceedings, in a manner very creditable to the firmness 
 and independence of the parties to which it was suc- 
 cessively submitted. The court, composed probably 
 for the most part of planters, evinced a laudable dis- 
 interestedness in deciding the demurrer against 
 themselves, and in favor of the clergy. The jury 
 exhibited both intelligence and independence in tak- 
 ing the course which enabled them to reconcile sub- 
 stantial justice with the form of law; and the court, 
 in overruling the motion for a new trial, only carried 
 into effect the common rules of proceeding. 
 
 It is highly probable that the eloquence of Henry 
 operated powerfully on the minds of the court and 
 jury, as well as on those of the audience; but it is 
 certain that its efifect must have been greatly height- 
 ened by the strong sympathy that prevailed through- 
 
38 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 out the community with the party which he sup- 
 ported, and the universal disposition of his hearers 
 to receive with favor everything that he might say. 
 Without intending any disparagement to his talents, 
 we may perhaps, conclude with safety that the strong 
 excitement which existed in regard to the question 
 at issue furnishes the true key to the more extrava- 
 gant, and otherwise almost incredible, incidents that 
 marked the proceedings in the trial of the Parsons' 
 Cause. While it was in Henry a strong proof of 
 real power, that, on appearing for the first time as an 
 advocate, he was able to meet the exigencies of such 
 a scene, it was also an instance of good-fortune to 
 have been called upon to make his debut in a case in 
 which he necessarily carried with him the full current 
 of popular feeling, and thus to enter, under the most 
 favorable auspices, upon his professional career. 
 Without adverting to the extraordinary interest felt 
 at the time in this case, it would be difficult to ac- 
 count for the fact that, in the long course of his sub- 
 sequent efforts in so many different fields, he never 
 seems to have surpassed, if, indeed, he ever quite 
 equalled, the impression which he made upon this 
 occasion, and that the argument in the Parsons' 
 Cause is still cited as the ne phis ultra of his unri- 
 valled eloquence. 
 
 Of the topics treated in this celebrated speech, the 
 only one of which any account has been preserved, 
 is that of the validity of the Act of 1758, and of the 
 proceedings respecting it by the king in council. 
 Henry is represented by Mr. Wirt, on the authority, 
 as I understand him, of oral tradition, as having 
 
PATRICK HENRY 39 
 
 maintained that government was in the nature of a 
 compact between the king and the people; that the 
 king, on faihng to secure his subjects in Virginia 
 against the results of a short crop of tobacco, had 
 violated this compact, and thereby discharged the 
 other party from the duty of executing it ; and that 
 the people had provided for their own safety by the 
 Act of 1758, the validity of which was in no way 
 affected by the declaration of its nullity from the 
 king in council. This is not, perhaps, the strongest 
 form in which the argument on this topic could have 
 been presented for the purpose which Henry had in 
 view. It is not improbable that his reasoning may 
 have been somewhat misrepresented in passing 
 through the mouths of oral reporters. The object of 
 Henry was to obtain a verdict of nominal damages, 
 by showing that, wherever the legal right might be, 
 substantial justice was on the side of the planters. 
 In this purpose it was not necessary to argue that 
 the king was bound by the social compact to secure 
 the Virginia planters against the results of a short 
 crop of tobacco, which he could not well be expected 
 to do, or that the order in council, annulling the Act 
 of 1758, had no legal validity. The natural course 
 of the argument would be that the clergy had no 
 claim in justice to triple their salaries at the expense 
 of the planters, in consequence of an accidental rise 
 in the value of a particular article; that, in founding 
 such a claim upon a circumstance which was in itself 
 in the nature of a public calamity, the clergy acted 
 inconsistently with their professional character ; that 
 the legislature, in securing the planters by law 
 
40 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 against such a pretension, proceeded in accordance 
 with the dictates of natural justice; that, under the 
 pecuHar circumstances of the case, it was physically 
 impossible to obtain the king's assent to the law, and 
 that the legislature were consequently justified by 
 necessity in proceeding without it ; and that the sub- 
 sequent declaration of the council, however it might 
 affect the validity of the law, could not affect the 
 equity of the case, nor consequently impair the right 
 of the plaintiff to a verdict of merely nominal dam- 
 ages. This is the argument which would naturally 
 have been suggested by the aspect under which the 
 case was presented. It is tenable in all its points, and 
 only required to be stated with power and eloquence, 
 in order to carry conviction to the mind of every 
 hearer. The development of it would naturally in- 
 clude a course of severe animadversion on the con- 
 duct of the clergy, in seeking to fatten on the public 
 distress; but it would not have been necessary to 
 insist on any views of the law inconsistent with those 
 which had already been taken by the court. It may 
 therefore be presumed that it is the outline of the 
 argument adopted by Henry. 
 
 Such is the history of the famous Parsons' Cause, 
 The clergy took no step in carrying the matter before 
 a higher tribunal. Mr. Camm published another 
 pamphlet, in which the obscure advocate of the 
 planters, and the court in which the cause had been 
 tried, were treated with great contempt. But the 
 interest that had been for some time felt in this affair 
 was immediately forgotten, under the stronger ex- 
 citement produced by the opening scenes of the Rev- 
 
PATRICK HENRY 4I 
 
 oliitlonary contest, and left no results of consequence, 
 excepting that of having brought before the public 
 view, under the most favorable auspices, at this 
 critical period, an individual better fitted perhaps by 
 character and talents than any other in the colony, 
 to ride on the whirlv^^ind and direct the storm. 
 
 Henry was at once retained for the planters in all 
 the cases then in court depending on the same prin- 
 ciples with that of Mr. Maury; but they were all 
 withdrawn by the clergy and never came to trial. 
 His business increased considerably, but was still 
 for some time hardly adequate to his support ; and, 
 for the purpose of obtaining a wider field for his 
 operations he removed to the county of Louisa, 
 where he resided at a place called the Roundabout. 
 Here he resumed, in connection with his professional 
 occupations, his favorite rural sports, and has been 
 known to hunt the deer for several days together, 
 carrying his provision with him, and at night en- 
 camping in the woods. After the hunt was over, he 
 would go from the ground to the Louisa court-house 
 in his hunting apparel, take up the first of his causes 
 that happened to be called, and, if it afforded any 
 scope for display, astonish the court and jury by the 
 effusions of his natural eloquence. His power of en- 
 chaining the attention of his hearers is strikingly 
 shown by a remark of Judge Lyons, the same person 
 who had argued the Parsons' Cause against him, 
 and who has been heard to say that, while practicing 
 at the bar, he could always write a letter, or draft a 
 legal paper, in court with as much freedom of mind 
 as in his own office, under all circumstances, except- 
 
42 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 mg when Patrick rose to speak; but that, whenever 
 this happened, however trifling might be the matter 
 in question, he was obhged to throw aside his pen 
 and could not write a word until the speech was 
 finished. 
 
 In the autumn of 1764, about a year after his 
 argument in the Parsons' Cause, Henry was em- 
 ployed to appear before a committee of the House of 
 Burgesses, in a case of a contested election, and ac- 
 quitted himself with great distinction. But the mo- 
 ment had now arrived when he was himself to take 
 his seat in the assembly, and for a time to govern 
 its proceedings on the mighty questions in regard 
 to which the Colonies were at issue with the mother 
 country. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 Elected a Member of the House of Burgesses. — Brings for- 
 ward his celebrated Resolutions on the Stamp Act. 
 
 The year in which Patrick Henry argued the Par- 
 sons' Cause was distinguished by an event of higli 
 importance to the concerns of this continent, and 
 ultimately, through them, of the whole Christian 
 world. In that year were signed at Paris, by the 
 representatives of the principal European powers, the 
 definitive treaties which brought to a close the War 
 of 1756, commonly called, in this country, the Old 
 French War. By these treaties, France, then in the 
 hands of the corrupt and imbecile administration 
 which governed in the name of Louis the Fifteenth, 
 threw from her, as if in wantonness, the vast terri- 
 tory which she had previously possessed on this con- 
 tinent, and which, properly administered, might have 
 secured to her the dominion of the whole. Canada 
 was ceded to Great Britain. Louisiana, compre- 
 hending, as claimed by France, the entire valley of 
 the Mississippi from the mouth of that river to its 
 sources, and from the Alleghany to the Rocky Moun- 
 tains, perhaps, on the whole, the richest and most 
 favored region of equal extent on the face of the 
 globe, was given away, as it seem.s, without any mo- 
 tive whatever, to Spain. By the same treaties, Flor- 
 ida was ceded by Spain to England. 
 
 43 
 
44 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 It was doubtless supposed, at the time, that these 
 arrangements had consoHdated and estabhshed for- 
 ever the dominion of Great Britain over the whole 
 western continent. Occupying the coast from 
 Davis's Straits to Cape Florida, relieved from the 
 dangerous neighborhood of the French, who had 
 hitherto in some degree kept them in check, and with 
 nothing to oppose their farther progress but a torpid 
 Spanish government at New Orleans, it was nat- 
 urally supposed that the Colonies would regularly 
 and eagerly push forward their settlements into the 
 interior, until they had driven the Spaniards from 
 the continent; in short, that they would run, as 
 British subjects, the same career, which they have, in 
 fact, pursued as citizens of the United States. 
 
 This was the superficial aspect of the case; but a 
 keener foresight into the future might, perhaps, even 
 then have satisfied the observer that the result of 
 these arrangements would be of a directly opposite 
 character, and would tend to weaken and dismember, 
 rather than consolidate and strengthen, the British 
 power. The neighborhood of the French was the 
 principal circumstance that counteracted this ten- 
 dency to independence, which naturally grew out of 
 the remote situation of the British colonies, and their 
 peculiar habits of thought and feeling. At the oc- 
 currence of every new war in Europe, the British 
 settlements in America were exposed to new inroads 
 from the interior, aggravated in their effects by all 
 the horrors of savage warfare. The necessity of 
 obtaining the aid of the mother country in repelling 
 these attacks, and the sympathy generated by the 
 
PATRICK HENRY 45 
 
 concert of action thus produced, created for the time 
 a community of feehng which could never have been 
 produced in any other v^ay. The acquisition of 
 Canada removed this check to the spirit of inde- 
 pendence; and it might, perhaps, have been antici- 
 pated that this spirit would now develop itself with 
 greater assurance and freedom than before. But 
 even in this view of the subject no contemporary ob- 
 server would ever have predicted the rapidity with 
 which the new combination of circumstances pro- 
 duced its efifects. At no period in the history of the 
 Colonies had the feeling on their part towards the 
 mother country been so cordial as it was at the con- 
 clusion of the Peace of 1763. Twelve years after- 
 wards, the mother country and the Colonies were at 
 open war; in thirteen, the colonies had declared In- 
 dependence; and in twenty, the representatives of 
 the same powers that made the arrangements of 
 1763, signed, at Paris, another set of treaties, the 
 principal result of which was to recognize the na- 
 tional existence of the United States. So rapid, in 
 some cases at least, is the progress of the revolutions 
 which determine the fortunes of nations and change 
 the face of the world. 
 
 The event which immediately brought on this new 
 and wholly unexpected series of occurrences took 
 place in England in the year following the Peace, 
 and was one of its results. Desiring to make the 
 reductions in the taxes that are usual after the close 
 of a long war, and finding it necessary at the same 
 time to provide for the interest of a large war-debt, 
 the British ministry, in order to combine the two 
 
46 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 objects as far as possible, began to look about for 
 new sources of revenue, and conceived the idea of 
 raising funds by taxing the Colonies. In pursuance 
 of this project, on the loth of March, 1764, a de- 
 claratory resolution was adopted in Parliament, to 
 the effect that it " would be proper to impose certain 
 stamp duties on the Colonies and Plantations, for 
 the purpose of raising an American revenue, payable 
 into the British exchequer." At the next session of 
 Parliament, in the year 1765, a law was passed, in 
 conformity with this resolution, commonly called the 
 Stamp Act. 
 
 The resolution and the Act, though adopted by 
 large majorities, were opposed in Parliament by a 
 respectable minority, chiefly on the ground of con- 
 stitutional law. The right of the government to raise 
 money from the people by taxation was declared to 
 be coextensive with, and incidental to, the right of 
 the people to be represented in Parliament. As the 
 Colonies were not represented in Parliament, they 
 could not rightfully be taxed. The correctness of 
 this principle, even in its application to the mother 
 country, may perhaps be regarded as somewhat 
 questionable. With the inhabitants of the British 
 islands the right of being directly represented in 
 Parliament is far from being, or having been at any 
 time, coextensive with the duty of paying taxes ; and 
 the idea of virtual representation, it was supposed, 
 might as well be applied to the population of the 
 Colonies, as to the unrepresented part of that of the 
 mother country. 
 
 It may be urged, indeed, with some degree of 
 
PATRICK HENRY 47 
 
 plausibility, that, where the legislator is himself sub- 
 ject to his own laws, there is less danger of oppres- 
 sion than where they are made applicable only to a 
 distant country. But this is a consideration of equity 
 and expediency, rather than of strict right. In real- 
 ity, the constitutional rights of British subjects, 
 which at home depended on usage rather than strict 
 definition, became, in the anomalous circumstances 
 under which the Colonies were settled, so entirely 
 matters of inference and construction that they must 
 necessarily have been interpreted differently, and 
 with almost equal degrees of plausibility, by the 
 Colonies and the Government. It was the true policy 
 of the government to avoid everything that would 
 provoke discussion on the subject, since, whatever 
 the merits of the case might be, any agitation of the 
 question would necessarily stimulate the existing ten- 
 dency to Independence. The error of the British 
 ministry lay in assuming a principle, which, whether 
 in itself true or false, could not fail at all events to 
 provoke a controversy, and in not retracing their 
 steps with sufficient firmness, wdien they saw how the 
 Act was received in America. 
 
 Starting from the period of the Peace of 1763, 
 when the feeling of cordiality toward the mother 
 country was strong and universal, had the British 
 ministry pursued uniformly a conciliatory course, 
 never advancing any pretension which was fitted to 
 alarm the jealousy of the Colonies, encouraging, in- 
 stead of crushing, their home industry, governing 
 them, in short, not with a view to the separate ag- 
 grandizement of Great Britain, but to the interest of 
 
48 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 the Colonies themselves, and that of the mother 
 country only as therein involved and implied; had 
 the ministry taken such a course, the union with 
 Great Britain might have lasted for an indefinite 
 period, perhaps for centuries, and until the superior 
 population and revenues of the Colonies should have 
 transferred the seat of the common government, by a 
 natural process, to this side of the Atlantic. But 
 such results would have been hardly consistent with 
 the ordinary course of events. With the feelings on 
 both sides that naturally grew out of their respective 
 positions, it was much more natural that the British 
 government should adopt some such measure as the 
 Stamp Act, and that its adoption should be followed 
 by resistance from the Colonies. 
 
 But although opposition, more or less energetic, 
 was naturally to be expected, and was doubtless 
 calculated on by the ministers, it is hardly probable 
 that they anticipated the storm of resistance which 
 burst upon them at once from all quarters of the 
 continent. The declaratory resolution was met by 
 remonstrances and protests from the Colonial legisla- 
 tures, transmitted through their agents at London, 
 in which they denied entirely the right of the Gov- 
 ernment to raise a revenue from the Colonies. 
 Shaken in some degree by their proceedings, the 
 ministry intimated to the agents that they had no 
 particular predilection for the proposed method of 
 raising the money wanted, and that they would 
 abandon the idea of laying Stamp duties if the agents 
 would suggest any other mode of obtaining the 
 amount which these duties were expected to yield, 
 
PATRICK HENRY 49 
 
 and which was only a hundred thousand pounds. 
 So trifling was the pecuniary interest actually at 
 stake in the quarrel, which was destined to dismem- 
 ber the British empire. The agents rejected these 
 overtures, and insisted firmly on the constitutional 
 right of British subjects not to be taxed excepting 
 with their own consent through their representatives. 
 
 Failing in these attempts at conciliation, the min- 
 istry adhered to their original plan. Soon after the 
 opening of Parliament, in January, 1765, they car- 
 ried through the two Houses, by unanimous consent, 
 a resolution not to receive any memorials which de- 
 nied the right of the Government to tax the Colonies ; 
 and soon after proposed, and carried by large ma- 
 jorities, the famous Stamp Act. On the actual pas- 
 sage of this obnoxious law, the feeling of discontent 
 which had been kept in some degree within bounds, 
 by the hope that Parliament would refrain from fol- 
 lowing out the course indicated by the resolution of 
 the preceding session, now burst forth with uncon- 
 trollable fury. On the arrival of the intelligence of 
 the passage of the law at Boston, the ships in port 
 displayed their flags at half-mast as signals of dis- 
 tress ; the bells were muffled and tolled as at a 
 funeral. The Act was publicly burned. The ship- 
 masters who had brought out the stamps were com- 
 pelled* to give them up, and they were immediately 
 destroyed, so that, on the ist of November, when the 
 Act went into operation, there was not one to be 
 found in the Colonies. 
 
 The merchants entered into mutual compacts not 
 to import any goods from Great Britain while the 
 
 A. B.,VOL. HI. —4 
 
50 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 law remained in force. As the use of stamped paper 
 was rendered necessary by the Act in ahiiost all mat- 
 ters of business, public or private, the destruction of 
 the supply which had been transmitted interrupted 
 the progress of all current affairs. The courts of 
 justice were closed, and the people were left at full 
 leisure to devote their whole time and attention to 
 the all-absorbing subject. The rapidity with which 
 the feeling that prevailed through the Colonies 
 changed, in a single year, from unprecedented cor- 
 diality to unmitigated abhorrence, is almost miracu- 
 lous. It evinces a keen sensibility to any interference 
 with their real or supposed political rights, and a 
 resolute determination to maintain them, singularly 
 characteristic of the race from which they sprang, 
 but which had never, perhaps, been displayed with 
 greater energy at the most trying periods in the his- 
 tory of the mother country. 
 
 The legislature of Virginia, immediately after re- 
 ceiving intelligence of the adoption of the declaratory 
 resolution by Parliament, prepared addresses, di- 
 rected severally to the King, the House of Lords, 
 and the House of Commons, in which they remon- 
 strated with spirit and decision, but still in a tone of 
 moderation, against any actual legislation on this 
 basis. These addresses corresponded in character 
 with the feeling which prevailed in the Colonies at 
 the time of their adoption, and which was still friend- 
 ly and loyal towards the mother country, although 
 in some degree altered by the prospect of the meas- 
 ures that were threatened. The actual passage of 
 the Stamp Act seems to have obliterated entirely the 
 
PATRICK HENRY 5 1 
 
 remains of the previously existing sentiment, and to 
 have substituted in its place the most intense excite- 
 ment, and a resolute determination to resist to the 
 utmost, and at all hazards, the ministerial preten- 
 sions. The boldest and most energetic patriots were 
 naturally called into action by the nature of the crisis. 
 
 In Virginia, the friends of liberty fixed their eyes 
 immediately upon the young advocate who had re- 
 sently acquired so much reputation by his brilliant 
 eloquence and undaunted defence of Colonial rights 
 against the encroachments of the Crown, at the reg- 
 ular election of members of the House of Burgesses 
 for the year 1765. Henry does not seem to have 
 been thought of as a candidate ; but, after the adop- 
 tion of the Stamp Act was known, Mr. William 
 Johnson, the member elect for the county of Louisa, 
 accepted the place of coroner in order to create a 
 vacancy. A writ was issued on the ist of May for 
 a new election, and before the 20th it appears that 
 Henry had taken his seat in the Assembly, which 
 was in session at the time, as on that day he was 
 added to the committee for courts of justice. On 
 making his appearance in the Assembly, he exhibited 
 the same plain and rather uncouth exterior which 
 had previously distinguished him. It now formed 
 a rather striking contrast with the stately deport- 
 ment and finished elegance of manner which charac- 
 terized the leading members of the landed aristoc- 
 racy of Virginia. 
 
 It was probably not anticipated by the friends of 
 Henry that he would lead the proceedings of the 
 Assembly on the Stamp Act. Richard Henry Lee, 
 
52 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 Pendleton, Wythe, Bland, and others, who after- 
 wards took an active and prominent part in the con- 
 test with the mother country, were members of this 
 body, and, from their superiority in years and au- 
 thority, if not in talent and eloquence, to Henry, 
 were naturally expected to assume the responsibility 
 of pointing out the course to be pursued. Henry, as 
 a young and powerful advocate, was calculated on 
 to sustain and recommend to the people the measures 
 proposed by the leaders. These very natural ex- 
 pectations were, as we shall presently see, entirely 
 disappointed. 
 
 The first affair in which Henry took a part was far 
 from exhibiting any very strong tendency in him to 
 follow the lead of the landed aristocracy. Although 
 it had no immediate connection with the exciting 
 political topics of the day, it was in itself of an inter- 
 esting character, and, in more quiet times, would 
 have probably absorbed for some years the attention 
 of the Colony. It was a proposal made in the Assem- 
 bly to convert the State treasury into a sort of land 
 bank, by authorizing the treasurer to lend the public 
 money to individuals on good landed security. 
 Whether these loans were to be made in a paper 
 money, resting on the public faith, to be created for 
 the purpose, or in the usual currency of the Colony, 
 is not stated in the accounts that have come down to 
 us of this transaction. 
 
 The treasurer of the Colony at this period was 
 John Robinson, who was also at the same time, and 
 had been for five and twenty years preceding, the 
 speaker of the Assembly. He was a person of large 
 
PATRICK HENRY 53 
 
 property and excellent character, by general ac- 
 knowledgment the leader of the landed interest. 
 Profuse in his expenditures, and liberal in his dispo- 
 sition, he had been in the habit of lending money 
 very freely to such persons as wished to borrow, em- 
 ploying indiscriminately for this purpose his own 
 funds and those of the State. By a long persever- 
 ance in this system his affairs had become confused, 
 and he began to apprehend that he should find him- 
 self unable to meet his payments on public account. 
 The real object of the proposed measure was to en- 
 able him to settle his affairs, by transferring the loans 
 which he had made on his own responsibility, though 
 with the public money, to the credit of the State. As 
 the irregularity of the manner in which Robinson 
 had managed the affairs of the treasury was not 
 known until after his death, which took place a year 
 later, the real object of the proposed measure was 
 not at the time suspected by the public. The plan 
 seems to have been favored by the leading members 
 of the Assembly, who naturally anticipated that the 
 loans to be made would fall, in part at least, into 
 their hands. 
 
 It was in opposition to this plan that Henry made 
 his first speech in the House of Burgesses. The 
 ultimate object not being known, he could, of course, 
 attack it only on the general ground of objections, 
 which are sufficiently obvious; such as the danger, 
 inconvenience, and radical impropriety of employing 
 the public money in private banking operations, and 
 the abuses to which such a system would necessarily 
 lead. No report is extant of this speech. Mr. Jeffer- 
 
54 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 son, who heard the debate, speaks of it as an effort of 
 great abiHty, and quotes a single remark which made 
 at the time a very strong impression on himself and 
 the House. It had been urged by the friends of the 
 measure that certain persons of substantial property 
 had been led by circumstances to contract debts, 
 which, if exacted immediately, would bring ruin 
 upon them and their families, but that, with a little 
 indulgence in point of time, these debts might be 
 paid with ease, and that this project would furnish 
 the persons so situated with the accommodation 
 which they wanted. " What, Sir," said Henry, in 
 commenting upon this remark, which seems to have 
 been a covert allusion to the case of Robinson him- 
 self; "What, Sir, is it proposed, then, to reclaim 
 the spendthrift from his dissipation and extrava- 
 gance by filling his pockets with money? " " These 
 expressions," says Jefferson, in his letter to Wirt, 
 " are indelibly impressed upon my memory." As 
 the remark here quoted, though just and pointed, has 
 nothing particularly striking or brilliant about it, it 
 is easy to judge how much the effect of Henry's 
 speeches, as is the case, indeed, with those of every 
 celebrated orator, must have depended on the man- 
 ner in which they were delivered. The opposition of 
 Henry to the projected plan was succesful. He 
 carried with him all the members of the upper coun- 
 try, who constituted a considerable majority over the 
 aristocracy of the lower country. 
 
 The next year Robinson died, and the disclosure 
 of the deficit in his accounts with the State, which 
 exhibited the true character of this proposal, fully 
 
PATRICK HENRY 55 
 
 justifies the opposition of Henry, and reflected honor 
 on his foresight and sagacity. He assumed at this 
 time the position, which he continued to hold through 
 his whole career, of a popular tribune, who made it 
 his business to attempt to secure the rights of the 
 mass of the community against invasion by the 
 wealthy and powerful. This might not have been, 
 in ordinary times, a course very well fitted to secure 
 to him the highest emoluments and advantages held 
 out by his profession, as it naturally rendered him 
 obnoxious to the landed proprietors, who owned 
 most of the property, and disposed of all the patron- 
 age of the Crown in the Colony. But, under the pe- 
 culiar circumstances of the crisis, it proved* perhaps 
 more favorable to his influence than any other that 
 he could have adopted. The progress of events very 
 soon transferred the patronage of the Colony from 
 the hands of the aristocracy to those of the popular 
 leaders, and compelled the former not merely not to 
 oppose Henry, but to march, though not with a very 
 good-will, under his banner. This result was seen in 
 the proceedings of the Assembly at this session upon 
 the Stamp Act. 
 
 The leading men appear to have made up their 
 minds, that it was unnecessary to add anything at 
 this session to the addresses which had been adopted 
 at the preceding one, and, up to the third day before 
 the session was to terminate, had shown no intention 
 to propose any new measure. It was at this period 
 that Henry introduced his celebrated resolutions. 
 At some subsequent time, he made himself a state- 
 ment in writing of the circumstances under which 
 
56 AMERICAN PIOGRAPHY 
 
 they were offered. The document is the more cu- 
 rious, as it is the only source from which our knowl- 
 edge of one of the resolutions is derived. After the 
 decease of Henry, a parcel was found among his 
 papers, with this superscription : '' Enclosed are the 
 resolutions of the Virginia Assembly, in 1765, con- 
 cerning the Stamp Act. Let my executors open this 
 paper." The parcel contained a copy of the resolu- 
 tions, with some remarks written upon the back of 
 it, the whole in Henry's handwriting. The resolu- 
 tions are as follows : 
 
 '' Resolved, That the first adventurers and settlers 
 of this his Majesty's colony and dominion brought 
 with them, and transmitted to their posterity, and all 
 others, his Majesty's subjects, since inhabiting in this 
 his Majesty's said colony, all the privileges, fran- 
 chises, and immunities, that have at any time been 
 held, enjoyed, and possessed, by the people of Great 
 Britain. 
 
 '' Resolved, That, by two royal charters, granted 
 by King James the First, the colonists aforesaid are 
 declared entitled to all the privileges, liberties, and 
 immunities of denizens and natural-born subjects, 
 to all intents and purposes, as if they had been abid- 
 ing and born within the realm of England. 
 
 '' Resolved, That the taxation of the people by 
 themselves, or by persons chosen by themselves to 
 represent them, who can only know what taxes the 
 people are able to bear, and the easiest mode of rais- 
 ing them, and are equally affected by such taxes 
 themselves, is the distinguishing characteristic of 
 British freedom, and without which the ancient con- 
 stitution cannot subsist. 
 
PATRICK HENRY 57 
 
 '' Resolved, That his Majesty's Hege people of this 
 most ancient colony have uninterruptedly enjoyed 
 the right of being thus governed by their own As- 
 sembly, in the article of their taxes and internal 
 police ; and that the same hath never been forfeited, 
 or in any other way given up, but hath been con- 
 stantly recognized by the king and people of Great 
 Britain. 
 
 '' Resolved, therefore. That the General Assembly 
 of this colony have the sole right and power to lay 
 taxes and impositions upon the inhabitants of this 
 colony ; and that every attempt to vest such power 
 in any person or persons w^hatsoever, other than the 
 General Assembly aforesaid, has a manifest tendency 
 to destroy British, as well as American, freedom." 
 
 The endorsement, also in Henry's handwriting, 
 on the paper containing these resolutions, is as 
 follows : 
 
 " The within resolutions passed the House of Bur- 
 gesses in May, 1765. They formed the first opposi- 
 tion to the Stamp Act, and the scheme of taxing 
 America by the British Parliament. All the Colo- 
 nies, either through fear or want of opportunity to 
 form an opposition, or from influences of some kind 
 or other, had remained silent. I had been, for the 
 first time, elected a burgess a few days before ; was 
 young, inexperienced, unacquainted with the forms 
 of the House and the members that composed it. 
 Finding the men of weight averse to opposition, and 
 the commencement of the tax at hand, and that no 
 person was likely to step forth, I determined to ven- 
 ture; and, alone, unadvised, on a blank leaf of an 
 
58 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 old law book wrote the within. Upon offering them 
 to the House, violent debates ensued. Many threats 
 were uttered, and much abuse cast on me by the 
 party for submission. After a long and warm con- 
 test, the resolutions passed by a very small majority, 
 perhaps of one or two only. The alarm spread 
 throughout America with astonishing quickness, and 
 the ministerial party were overwhelmed. The great 
 point of resistance to British taxation was universal- 
 ly established in the Colonies. This brought on the 
 war, which finally separated the two countries, and 
 gave Independence to ours. Whether this will prove 
 a blessing or a curse, will depend upon the use our 
 people make of the blessings which a gracious God 
 hath bestowed upon us. If they are wise, they will 
 be great and happy. If they are of a contrary char- 
 acter, they will be miserable. Righteousness alone 
 can exalt them as a nation. 
 
 " Reader! whoever thou art, remember this; and, 
 in thy sphere, practice virtue thyself, and encourage 
 it in others. P. Henry.'' 
 
 Such is the account, given by Henry himself, of 
 the passage of these resolutions. It is known, also, 
 from himself, through the channel of his brother-in- 
 law, Judge Winston, that, before they were offered, 
 they were shown to two persons only, John Fleming 
 and George Johnston, members respectively for the 
 counties of Cumberland and Fairfax, by the latter of 
 whom they were seconded. They were opposed with 
 great earnestness by the prominent members who 
 generally led the proceedings, and, on most occa- 
 sions, as a matter of course, commanded a majority. 
 
PATRICK HENRY 59 
 
 The reader will naturally desire to see the account of 
 the proceedings, as given in the graphic and spirited 
 language of JefTerson, who was present at the debate. 
 
 '' Mr. Henry moved, and Mr. Johnston seconded, 
 these resolutions, successively. They were opposed 
 by Messrs. Randolph, Bland, Pendleton, Wythe, and 
 all the old members, whose influence in the House 
 had till then been unbroken. They did it, not from 
 any question of our rights, but on the ground that 
 the same sentiments had been at the preceding ses- 
 sion expressed in a more conciliatory form, to which 
 the answers were not yet received. But torrents of 
 sublime eloquence from Henry, backed by the solid 
 reasoning of Johnston, prevailed. The last, however, 
 and strongest resolution, was carried but by a single 
 vote. The debate on it was most bloody. I was 
 then but a student, and stood at the door of com- 
 munication between the house and the lobby, (for 
 as yet there was no gallery, ) during the whole debate 
 and vote ; and I well remember that, after the num- 
 bers on the division were told and declared from the 
 chair, Peyton Randolph, the attorney-general, came 
 out at the door where I was standing, and said, as 
 he entered the lobby, ' I would have given five hun- 
 dred guineas for a single vote ; ' for one vote would 
 have divided the house, and Robinson was in the 
 chair, who, he knew, would have negatived the 
 resolution. 
 
 " Mr. Henry left town that evening; and the next 
 morning, before the meeting of the House, Colonel 
 Peter Randolph, then of the council, came to the hall 
 of burgesses and sat at the clerk's table till the house 
 
6o 'AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 bell rang, thumbing over the volumes of journals to 
 find a precedent for expunging a vote of the House, 
 which, he said, had taken place while he was a mem- 
 ber or clerk of the House, I do not recollect which. 
 I stood by him at the end of the table a considerable 
 part of the time, looking on as he turned the leaves ; 
 but I do not recollect whether he found the erasure. 
 In the meantime, some of the timid members who 
 had voted for the strongest resolution had become 
 alarmed; and, as soon as the House met, a motion 
 was made and carried to expunge it from the jour- 
 nals. There being, at that day, but one printer, and 
 he entirely under control of the governor, I do not 
 know that this resolution ever appeared in print. I 
 write this from memory ; but the impression made on 
 me at the time was such as to fix the facts indelibly 
 in my mind. I suppose the original journal was 
 among those destroyed by the British, or its obliter- 
 ated face might be appealed to. And here I will 
 state, that Burk's statement of Mr. Henry's con- 
 senting to withdraw two resolutions, by way of com- 
 promise with his opponents, is entirely erroneous." 
 Mr. Jefferson's suggestion that the manuscript 
 journal was probably destroyed by the British dur- 
 ing the war has been ascertained to be erroneous, as 
 the book disappeared very soon after the close of the 
 session of 1765. There are various errors, besides 
 the one mentioned by Mr. Jefferson, in the account 
 of Burk, and some in that of Marshall, in the first 
 volume of the *' Life of Washington." Fortunately, 
 the original note of Henry, and the account of Jeffer- 
 son, enable us to form a perfectly correct, as well as 
 
PATRICK HENRY 6 1 
 
 singularly clear and distinct, notion of this thrilling 
 scene. Jefferson standing as a listener at the door or 
 the House of- Burgesses, and imbibing, from the 
 " torrents of Henry's sublime eloquence," the pa- 
 triotic inspiration which was destined, only ten years 
 afterwards, to glow in his own draft of the Declara- 
 tion of Independence, would furnish a noble subject 
 for the historical painter, and one which would open 
 plainly to the eye some of the powerful, but then 
 hidden, springs of the coming Revolution. 
 
 Of the speech or speeches made by Henry in this 
 debate there is no satisfactory record. Burk, in his 
 History, gives what purports to be his speech ; but it 
 is the mere outline of an argument, resting, probably, 
 on recollection, with the exception of a single passage 
 at the close, the correctness of which is well authenti- 
 cated, and which contributed greatly at the time, by 
 giving effect and poignacy to the whole speech, to 
 produce the desired result. According to this out- 
 line, Henry considered the pretence of the ministry 
 to raise a revenue in this country as conflicting with 
 the Colonial charters, with the rights of the people as 
 British subjects, and with their natural rights as 
 men. At the close, he dwelt upon the danger to 
 which the king himself would be exposed in pursuing 
 his present course. " Caesar," said he, " had his 
 Brutus, Charles the First his Cromwell, and George 
 the Third — " At this moment, the orator paused, 
 as if in doubt how to finish the sentence. The nat- 
 ural termination seemed, of course, to be, that 
 George the Third would come, like them, to a vio- 
 lent end ; and the members opposed to Henry imme- 
 
62 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 diately raised a loud cry of " Treason, treason," in 
 all parts of the House. Henry, in no way discon- 
 certed, but appearing, on the contrary, to gather new 
 power from the excitement of the scene, assumed a 
 more erect position, and, fastening his eagle eye upon 
 the speaker, the same John Robinson whose corrupt 
 plans he had so signally baffled a few days before, 
 added, in the most appropriate emphasis, as the clos- 
 ing words of the phrase, " may profit by their exam- 
 ple." He then paused again, for some seconds, and 
 finally subjoined, as a sort of commentary on the 
 outcry that had just occurred, '' If this be treason, 
 make the most of it ! " 
 
 Such was the first appearance of Henry as an 
 orator on purely political topics; and it is a rather 
 singular circumstance that, in this department, as in 
 that of legal practice, no subsequent effort seems to 
 have surpassed, or even quite equalled, in immediate 
 effect, the first. His speech in the Continental Con- 
 gress, soon after its organization, called forth the 
 strongest admiration; many of his speeches in the 
 Virginia Convention, on the Federal Constitution, 
 were received with unbounded enthusiasm, and pro- 
 duced very extraordinary results. His argument in 
 the British Debt case, which occupied three days, is 
 analyzed at great length by Mr. Wirt, and dwelt 
 upon as a sort of masterpiece. But, even at the pres- 
 ent time, a Virginian, who is requested to mention 
 the leading titles of Henry's glory, appeals without 
 hesitation to the speeches on the Stamp Act and the 
 Parsons' Cause. The peculiar circumstances attend- 
 ing each of these cases may have contributed some- 
 
PATRICK HENRY 63 
 
 thing to give them their comparative importance; 
 but, independently of any other cause, there is a cer- 
 tain freshness in the first efforts of a powerful mind, 
 which gives them an advantage over those of later 
 years, that, on careful analysis, may appear, as works 
 of science and art, fully equal, if not superior. 
 
 It is remarked by Lord Byron, in one of his private 
 memoranda or letters, that he awoke one morning 
 and found himself famous. Henry had taken his 
 seat in the Assembly, notwithstanding the eclat of 
 the Parsons' Cause, a still comparatively obscure 
 country attorney, at best a rising lawyer of great 
 promise. He returned to his home, three or four 
 weeks after, by universal acknowledgment, the first 
 statesman and orator in Virginia. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 Repeal of the Stamp Act. — Henry elected to the Continental 
 Congress. — Speech in the Virginia Convention. 
 
 The unfortunate measure which had produced 
 such a ferment throughout the Colonies, and which 
 exercised so important an influence on their relations 
 with the mother country, was destined itself to be of 
 short duration. Within a year after the passage of 
 the Stamp Act, a change took place in the adminis- 
 tration of the British Govern'ment. The Grenville 
 Cabinet, in which the Tory influence predominated, 
 was compelled to retire ; and a new one was formed, 
 on Whig principles, under the direction of the Mar- 
 quis of Rockingham. It was on this occasion that 
 Burke, who had previously been private secretary 
 to the marquis, took his seat in Parliament. It may 
 be proper to remark that, although the Grenville ad- 
 ministration was ostensibly responsible for the pas- 
 sage of the Stamp Act, Mr. Grenville himself is said 
 to have been individually averse to it, and to have 
 proposed it very unwillingly, in compliance with the 
 positive command of the king, who was the real 
 author of the measure. However this may be, the 
 new ministry, which, as members of Parliament, had 
 opposed the adoption of this policy, very naturally 
 evinced a disposition to recede from it. The speech 
 
 64 
 
PATRICK HENRY 65 
 
 from the throne, at the opening of the session, 
 breathed a conciHatory spirit in regard to America; 
 and, in the debate upon it in the House of Commons, 
 Mr. Pitt attacked the pohcy of the late administra- 
 tion with great power. A bill was introduced, soon 
 after, for the repeal of the Stamp Act, which, though 
 strongly opposed, passed the two Houses by large 
 majorities, and became a law. At the same time, 
 another law was passed, declaratory of the right of 
 Parliament to bind the Colonies in all cases 
 whatsoever. 
 
 This prompt and apparently good-humored retreat 
 from the course which had been so injudiciously 
 entered upon gave entire satisfaction throughout 
 the Colonies, and restored for a moment the cor- 
 dial feeling towards the mother country that pre- 
 vailed at the close of the war. Public rejoicings, 
 including expressions of the warmest gratitude to 
 the friends of the Colonies, at home and abroad, 
 took place in all quarters. The Virginia Assembly 
 voted an address of thanks to the King and Parlia- 
 ment, in which they renewed all their former pro- 
 fessions of attachment and loyalty. They, also re- 
 solved to erect a statue of the King, and an obelisk 
 in honor of the British statesmen who had supported 
 the cause of America. A bill was introduced for 
 this purpose ; but, in consequence of the less favor- 
 able aspect which the affair shortly after assumed in 
 England, it was never acted on. 
 
 Had the British Government, at this period, per- 
 severed with consistency and good-faith in the pol- 
 icy which apparently dictated the repeal of the Stamp 
 
 A. B., VOL. III. — 5 
 
66 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 Act, there can be no doubt that the good feehng 
 produced by that repeal would have been maintained, 
 and would have prevailed for a long time in the re- 
 lations between the two parties. But this was not 
 the case; and the course actually pursued was one 
 which it would be as difficult to reconcile with any 
 consistent scheme of administration, as well as with 
 a prudent regard to the rights and feelings of the 
 Colonies. 
 
 Occasional concessions gave an appearance of 
 weakness and indecision to the action of the minis- 
 try, while the extreme severity displayed on other 
 occasions irritated the minds of the Americans al- 
 most to frenzy. Not content with annexing to the 
 repeal of the Stamp Act a declaratory law, which 
 was fitted of itself to give an ungracious aspect to 
 the whole proceeding, the ministry seemed to have 
 taken particular pains to disavow any intention for 
 which the Colonies could properly be grateful, and 
 publicly treated with contempt the demonstrations of 
 satisfaction which had, in fact, been shown in 
 America. Townshend, the new chancellor of the 
 exchequer, remarked, in a speech made the follow- 
 ing year, in the debate on the supplies, '' that he had 
 voted for the repeal of the Stamp Act, not because it 
 was not a good Act, but because there appeared to 
 be a propriety in repealing it. He added, that he re- 
 peated the sentiment in order that the galleries might 
 hear him; and that, after this, he did not expect to 
 have his statue erected in America." In accordance 
 with these views, the plan of raising a revenue in the 
 Colonies was immediately revived. A law was 
 
PATRICK HENRY 6/ 
 
 passed, the same year, imposing new duties upon 
 various articles imported into the Colonies, and par- 
 ticularly tea; and, in order to show the settled de- 
 termination of the ministry to persist, at all hazards, 
 in their pretensions, additional troops were sent to 
 America and quartered in the principal northern 
 cities. 
 
 This headstrong spirit in the cabinet could not 
 well produce any other results than such as those 
 which followed, and which are familiarly known as 
 a part of the general history of the country. Vir- 
 ginia, though prominent in resistance to the Stamp 
 Act, seems to have been treated with less severity 
 than some of the other Colonies. This is attributed, 
 by Mr. Wirt, to the personal character of the Vir- 
 ginian governors, Fauquier and Botetourt, who are 
 represented as having endeavored to maintain, as far 
 as possible, a good understanding between the par- 
 ties; while it seems to have been the object of the 
 Bernards and Hutchinsons, of the Eastern States, 
 to envenom existing animosities, and push them as 
 rapidly as possible to extremities. The greater con- 
 sideration which was extended by the mother coun- 
 try to the Colony of Virginia tended probably to 
 diminish a little, on her side, the activity of 
 opposition. 
 
 On the repeal of the Stamp Act, the Assembly, as 
 remarked above, adopted resolutions of a highly 
 loyal character ; and it does not appear that any new 
 proceedings took place in reference to the relations 
 with the mother country until the session of 1768-9. 
 On the last day of that session, a series of resolutions 
 
68 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 was adopted, asserting in emphatic terms the right 
 of the Colony to be exempt from all taxes excepting 
 such as might be imposed by her own Legislature, 
 and remonstrating vigorously against the recent acts 
 of the British Government. The result of this meas- 
 ure was an immediate dissolution of the House of 
 Assembly by the governor. The members were all 
 reelected, and returned with augmented ardor to the 
 post of duty. The next step, in the course of re- 
 sistance to the arbitrary pretensions of the ministry, 
 was the adoption by the Assembly of a series of reso- 
 lutions, moved by Dabney Carr, and providing for 
 the appointment of a committee of the Legislature 
 to correspond with the Legislatures of the other 
 Colonies. The measure was moved in committee 
 of the whole on the 12th of March, 1773, and was 
 the first movement made in any part of the country 
 towards a concert of action between the Colonies. 
 
 Henry had constantly been a member of the House 
 from the time of his first election, and took, no 
 doubt, an active part on both these occasions, al- 
 though no particular account has been preserved of 
 his course in regard to the resolutions of 1768-9. 
 He supported those of Mr. Carr in a powerful 
 speech, and was appointed a member of the Com- 
 mittee of Correspondence. He seems, at this time, 
 to have become somewhat more studious in regard 
 to the decorum of his external appearance than he 
 had formerly been ; and is described by one who was 
 present at the debate on Carr's resolutions as wear- 
 ing a peach-blossom-colored coat, and dark wig, ter- 
 minating in a bag, in accordance with the fashion 
 
PATRICK HENRY 69 
 
 of that day. He was now in full practice at the bar, 
 and was particularly conspicuous in the defence of 
 criminal cases, where he shone without a rival. In 
 civil actions, involving the technical book learning 
 of the profession, he was still unable to cope on equal 
 terms with the leading barristers, and only recovered 
 his advantage, and displayed his full strength, when 
 the question was of such a nature that he was at 
 liberty to appeal to the great principles of natural 
 justice. 
 
 But events of high importance were now succeed- 
 ing each other with a rapidity which left to those 
 who took an active part in political affairs but little 
 leisure for professional pursuits or private business 
 of any description. The attempt to enforce the new 
 duty on tea was met by the destruction of the first 
 cargo that arrived at Boston, while yet on board the 
 ship in which it came. In retribution for this act 
 of summary justice, the British government with- 
 drew from that town its privileges jas a port of entry, 
 by the law commonly called the Boston Port Bill. 
 The situation of Boston under this infliction called 
 forth public expressions of the warmest sympathy 
 from various quarters. The Virginia legislature 
 was in session at the time when intelligence of the 
 enactment of the Boston Port Bill reached this coun- 
 try. The bill was to take effect on the first of June, 
 1774. The Assembly immediately passed an order 
 setting apart that day to be observed as a season of 
 public fasting, humiliation, and prayer. In conse- 
 quence of this order, Governor Dunmore on the fol- 
 lowing day dissolved the House. The members 
 
70 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 forthwith repaired to the Raleigh tavern, and, after 
 dehberating on the course which it was proper to 
 pursue under existing circumstances, unanimously 
 adopted an Association, which contained a proposal 
 for the meeting of a General Congress. 
 
 In pursuance of these proceedings, delegates were 
 elected shortly after by the several counties, to meet, 
 on the 1st of August following, for the purpose of 
 considering further of the state of public affairs, and 
 particularly of appointing deputies to the General 
 Congress. The delegates accordingly assembled at 
 Williamsburg, at the appointed time, and proceeded 
 to transact the business committed to them. They 
 adopted resolutions, inwhich they pledged themselves 
 to make common cause with Boston at all hazards, 
 and to suspend all commercial intercourse with Great 
 Britain until the existing difficulties should be ad- 
 justed. As deputies to the General Congress they 
 designated Peyton Randolph, Richard Henry Lee, 
 George Washington, Patrick Henry, Richard Bland, 
 Benjamin Harrison, and Edmund Pendleton. The 
 president of the Convention, Peyton Randolph, was 
 authorized to call another meeting, if occasion 
 should require. 
 
 Notwithstanding the lengths to which the con- 
 troversy with the mother country had now pro- 
 ceeded, and the bitterness of feeling which had been 
 generated by it, the idea of complete independence 
 was still admitted with reluctance by the greater 
 part of even the more active patriots, and had not 
 become familiar to the people at large. A few per- 
 sons only, of deeper thought and a keener foresight 
 
PATRICK HENRY 7 1 
 
 into future events than the rest, already perceived 
 that this result was inevitable. Patrick Henry was 
 one of the number, and Mr. Wirt has recorded a 
 very interesting conversation that occurred about 
 this time, in which Henry developed his views, with 
 his characteristic boldness, and with almost pro- 
 phetic sagacity; the substance of which is here 
 related. 
 
 The conversation was held at the house of Colonel 
 Samuel Overton, who, in the presence of several 
 other gentlemen, inquired of Henry whether he sup- 
 posed that Great Britain would drive her Colonies 
 to extremities ; and, if so, what would be the issue of 
 the war. " Sir," said Henry in reply, after looking 
 round the company to see that none but confidential 
 persons were present, '' she will drive us to extremi- 
 ties; no accommodation will take place; hostilities 
 will soon commence, and a desperate and bloody con- 
 test it will be." " Do you think," continued Over- 
 ton, " that, destitute as we are of arms, ammunition, 
 ships of war, and money to procure them, we can 
 possibly make any effectual resistance to the forces 
 which Great Britain will send against us?" "To 
 be candid with you," replied Henry, " I doubt 
 whether we should be able to cope single-handed 
 with so formidable an adversary; but," continued 
 he, rising from his seat, with great vivacity, *' do you 
 suppose that France, Spain, and Holland, the natural 
 enemies of Great Britain, will look on quietly and 
 see us crushed ? Will Louis the Sixteenth be asleep 
 at such a crisis? No, Sir! When he shall be sat- 
 isfied, by the vigor of our resistance, and by our 
 
72 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 declaration of independence, that we are in earnest, 
 he will furnish us with supplies, send us fleets and 
 armies to fight our battles for us, and make a treaty, 
 offensive and defensive, with us against our unnat- 
 ural mother. Spain and Holland will join the alli- 
 ance; our Independence will be established, and we 
 shall take our place among the nations of the earth." 
 On the 5th of September, 1774, the deputies to 
 the General Congress met at Carpenter's Hall, in 
 Philadelphia. Peyton Randolph was chosen presi- 
 dent. After the formal organization had been com- 
 pleted, the proceedings were opened by a speech 
 from Henry, which was followed by another from 
 Richard Henry Lee. No report of these speeches 
 has been preserved, but they are represented by Mr. 
 Wirt, on the authority of those who heard them, as 
 having been in the highest degree powerful and im- 
 pressive. Committees were shortly after appointed 
 to prepare a petition to the king, an address to the 
 people of England, and another to the inhabitants of 
 British America. In consequence of their general 
 reputation, as well as of the splendid display of elo- 
 quence which they had already made, Henry and 
 Lee were intrusted respectively with the duty of 
 preparing the first and second of these documents. 
 It appeared, however, in the sequel, that the capacity 
 of these gentlemen for literary composition and 
 regular argument was not upon a level with their 
 gifts in speech. The drafts which they reported 
 gave, in both cases, so little satisfaction, that they 
 were recommitted, and others substituted for them, 
 the petition to the king having been drafted by Mr. 
 
PATRICK HENRY 73 
 
 Jay, and the address to the people of England by Mr. 
 Dickinson. 
 
 Judge Chase, of Maryland, who was a member of 
 this Congress, on hearing the first speeches of Henry 
 and Lee, walked across the floor to the seat of his 
 colleague, and said to him, in an under -tone : " We 
 may as well go home; we are not able to legislate 
 with these men." After their talent for transacting 
 the public affairs had been tested, the judge was 
 heard to remark : " I find, after all, they are but 
 men, and, in mere matters of business, but very com- 
 mon men." 
 
 No account has been preserved of any further pro- 
 ceedings of Henry in this Congress, which closed its 
 sittings in October. On his return home, Henry 
 was, of course, surrounded by his neighbors, who 
 were eager to learn the particulars of the debates, 
 and inquired, among other things, whom he thought 
 the greatest man in Congress. '' If you speak of 
 eloquence," replied Henry, " Mr. Rutledge, of South 
 Carolina, is by far the greatest orator; but if you 
 speak of solid information and sound judgment. 
 Colonel Washington is unquestionably the greatest 
 man on that floor." Washington, though still com- 
 paratively young, had already developed, in a pro- 
 tracted career of service, his eminent capacity for 
 military affairs and the practical despatch of busi- 
 ness ; he had been for many years a member of the 
 Assembly, and had exhibited, under all circum- 
 stances, and on various trying occasions, the moral 
 elevation of character which was the great secret of 
 his subsequent influence and success. 
 
74 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 On the 20th of March, 1775, ^^e Virginia Conven- 
 tion, which had met the preceding year at WilHams- 
 burg, came together for the second time at Rich- 
 mond. Henry was a member of this body. It has 
 already been remarked that the pubHc opinion and 
 feehng throughout the Colonies were not yet pre- 
 pared for a Declaration of Independence. This was 
 evinced, so far as Virginia was concerned, by the 
 terms of the instructions given by the Williamsburg 
 Convention to their deputies in Congress, which, in 
 connection with a vigorous and plain-spoken state- 
 ment of grievances, breathe a spirit of loyalty to the 
 king and attachment to the mother country. 
 
 A similar tone marked the proceedings of the Con- 
 gress itself ; and, when the Williamsburg Convention 
 met for the second time, the prevailing sentiment 
 among the members was appparently pacific and con- 
 ciliatory. The first two days were employed in 
 passing resolutions of a merely formal and compli- 
 mentary character in honor of the deputies to Con- 
 gress, and of the legislature of Jamaica, which had 
 presented a petition to the king in favor of the claims 
 of the Colonies. These proceedings appeared to 
 Henry altogether too tame for the exigencies of the 
 crisis. He had made up his mind that the time for 
 conciliation was over, and that the controversy had 
 reached the point where there was no other issue but 
 an appeal to actual force. Preparation for the mili- 
 tary defence of the Colony was, of course, in this 
 view, the only appropriate measure, and Henry con- 
 ceived that the activity of the Convention ought to 
 take this direction. He accordingly moved the fol- 
 lowing resolutions : 
 
PATRICK HENRY 75 
 
 '' Resolved, That a well-regulated militia, com- 
 posed of gentlemen and yeomen, is the natural 
 strength and only security of a free government; 
 that such a militia in this Colony would for ever ren- 
 der it unnecessary for the mother country to keep 
 among us, for the purpose of our defence, any stand- 
 ing army of mercenary soldiers, always subversive of 
 the quiet and dangerous to the liberties of the people, 
 and would obviate the pretext of taxing us for their 
 support. 
 
 " That the establishment of such a militia is at 
 this time peculiarly necessary, by the state of our 
 laws, for the protection and defence of the country, 
 some of which are already expired, and others will 
 shortly be so ; and that the known remissness of gov- 
 ernment, in calling us together in a legislative ca- 
 pacity, renders it too insecure, in this time of danger 
 and distress, to rely that opportunity will be given 
 of renewing them in General Assembly, or making 
 any provision to secure our inestimable rights and 
 liberties from those further violations with which 
 they are threatened. 
 
 '' Resolved, therefore. That this Colony be imme- 
 diately put into a state of defence, and that a com- 
 mittee be raised to prepare a plan for embodying, 
 arming, and disciplining such a number of men as 
 may be sufficient for that purpose." 
 
 On this occasion, as in the debate on the Stamp 
 Act, the views of Henry were not only far in ad- 
 vance of the general sentiment of the country, but 
 went beyond those of the most active patriots in the 
 Convention. Bland, Harrison, and Pendleton, who 
 
76 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 had been members of Congress, with Robert C. 
 Nicholas, one of the ablest and most respected citi- 
 zens, resisted with all their might the passage of 
 these resolutions. They urged, in opposition to 
 them, with great eloquence, the more conciliatory 
 temper that had lately been professed by the king 
 and his ministers, the utter hopelessness of a con- 
 test with Great Britain, the intimate and endearing 
 character of the ties that had hitherto connected the 
 Colonies with the mother country, and the advan- 
 tages of various kinds which had accrued to both the 
 parties from the connection. 
 
 It is apparent, from the arguments which they em- 
 ployed, that these eminent statesmen and patriots 
 still clung with confidence to the hope of preserving 
 the union. Henry replied to their arguments, and 
 sustained his resolutions in a speech which is given 
 by Mr. Wirt in a report furnished by Judge Tucker, 
 who heard it delivered. This is one of the most 
 powerful specimens that have come down to us of 
 Henry's eloquence. It is inserted here from the re- 
 port of Judge Tucker, with the substitution of the 
 first for the third person. 
 
 '' No man can think more highly than I do of the 
 patriotism, as well as abilities, of the very worthy 
 gentlemen who have just addressed the House, But 
 different men often see the same subject in different 
 lights ; and, therefore, I hope it will not be thought 
 disrespectful to those gentlemen, if, entertaining, as 
 I do, opinions of a character very opposite to theirs, 
 I shall speak forth my sentiments freely and without 
 reserve. This is no time for ceremony. The ques- 
 
PATRICK HENRY ^^ 
 
 tion before the House is one of awful moment to the 
 country. For my own part, I consider it as noth- 
 ing less than a question of freedom or slavery. And 
 in proportion to the magnitude of the subject ought 
 to be the freedom of the debate. It is only in this 
 way that we can hope to arrive at truth, and fulfil 
 the great responsibility which we hold to God and 
 our country. Should I keep back my opinions at 
 such a time, through fear of giving offence, I should 
 consider myself as guilty of treason towards my 
 country, and of an act of disloyalty towards the 
 majesty of Heaven, which I revere above all earthly 
 kings. 
 
 '' Mr. President, it is natural to man to indulge 
 in the illusions of Hope. We are apt to shut our 
 eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song 
 of that siren, till she transforms us into beasts. Is 
 this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and 
 arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to 
 be of the number of those, who having eyes, see not, 
 and having ears, hear not, the things which so-nearly 
 concern their temporal salvation? For my part, 
 whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing 
 to know the whole truth ; to know the worst, and to 
 provide for it. 
 
 " I have but one lamp by which my feet are 
 guided ; and that is the lamp of experience. I know 
 of no way of judging of the future but by the past. 
 And judging by the past, I wish to know what there 
 has been in the conduct of the British ministry for 
 the last ten years to justify those hopes with which 
 gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves 
 
78 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 and the House. Is it that insidious smile with 
 which our petition has been lately received? Trust 
 it not, Sir ; it will prove a snare to your feet. Suf- 
 fer not yourselves to be betrayed by a kiss. Ask 
 yourselves how this gracious reception of our peti- 
 tion comports with those warlike preparations which 
 cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets 
 the armies necessary to a work of love and recon- 
 ciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling 
 to be reconciled that force must be called in to win 
 back our love, Let us not deceive ourselves, Sir. 
 These are the implements of war and subjugation; 
 the last arguments to which kings resort. I ask 
 gentlemen, Sir, what means this martial array, if its 
 purpose be not to force us to submission, Can gen- 
 tlemen assign any other possible motive for it ? Has 
 Great Britain any enemy in this quarter of the world 
 to call for all this accumulation of navies and 
 armies? No, Sir, she has none. They are meant 
 for us; they can be meant for no other. They are 
 sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains 
 which the British ministry have been so long forg- 
 ing. And what have we to oppose to them ? Shall we 
 try argument? Sir, we have been trying that for 
 the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer 
 upon the subject? Nothing. We have held the 
 subject up in every light of which it is capable; but 
 it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty 
 and humble supplication? What terms shall we 
 find which have not been already exhausted? Let 
 us not, I beseech you. Sir, deceive ourselves longer. 
 Sir, we have done everything that could be done to 
 
PATRICK HENRY 79 
 
 avert the storm which is now coming on. We have 
 petitioned; we have remonstrated; we have supph- 
 cated; we have prostrated ourselves before the 
 throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest 
 the tyrannical hands of the Ministry and Parliament. 
 Our petitions have been slighted ; our remonstrances 
 have produced additional violence and insult; our 
 supplications have been disregarded; and we have 
 been spurned with contempt from the foot of the 
 throne. In vain, after these things, may we indulge 
 the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There 
 is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be 
 free; if we mean to preserve inviolate those inesti- 
 mable privileges for which we have been so long con- 
 tending; if we mean not basely to abandon the noble 
 struggle in which we have been so long engaged, 
 and which we have pledged ourselves never to aban- 
 don, until the glorious object of our contest shall be 
 obtained ; we must fight ! I repeat it. Sir, we must 
 fight ! An appeal to arms, and to the God of hosts, 
 is all that is left us. 
 
 " They tell us. Sir, that we are weak ; unable to 
 cope with so formidable an adversary. But when 
 shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week or 
 the next year? Will it be when we are totally dis- 
 armed, and when a British guard shall be stationed 
 in every house ? Shall we gather strength by irreso- 
 lution and inaction ? Shall we acquire the means of 
 effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs, 
 and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until 
 our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? 
 Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of 
 
8o AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 those means which the God of nature hath placed in 
 our power. Three milHons of people, armed in the 
 holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that 
 which we possess, are invincible by any force which 
 our enemy can send against us. Besides, Sir, we 
 shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just 
 God, who presides over the destinies of nations, and 
 who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. 
 The battle. Sir, is not to the strong alone ; it is to the 
 vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, Sir, we have 
 no election (choice). If we were base enough to de- 
 sire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. 
 There is no retreat but in submission and slavery. 
 Our chains are forged. Their clanking may be 
 heard on the plains of Boston. The war is inevi- 
 table; and let it come! I repeat it, Sir, let it come! 
 
 " It is vain. Sir, to extenuate the matter. Gen- 
 tlemen may cry, Peace, peace ; but there is no peace. 
 The war is actually begun. The next gale that 
 sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the 
 clash of resounding arms. Our brethren are already 
 in the field. Why stand we here idle? What is it 
 that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is 
 life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at 
 the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Al- 
 mighty God! I know not what course others may 
 take; but, as for me, give me liberty, or give me 
 death! " 
 
 This spirited and powerful speech determined the 
 character of the proceedings of the Convention. Af- 
 ter another eloquent speech from Richard Henry 
 Lee, in support of the resolutions, a committee, of 
 
PATRICK HENRY 8 1 
 
 which Henry and Washington were among the 
 members, was appointed to prepare and report a 
 plan for the organization of the mihtia. The re- 
 port was accordingly made, and the plan adopted; 
 after which, and the transaction of some other busi- 
 ness of less importance, the Convention closed its 
 session. 
 
 A. B., VOL. III.— 6 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 Military Movements. — Henry appointed Commander-in-Chief 
 of the Virginia Forces. — Resigns his Commission. — Elected 
 the first Governor under the new Constitution. 
 
 Under the present system of conducting political 
 and military affairs in the Christian world, it rarely 
 happens that the same persons, whose opinions in 
 council and eloquence in debate determine the com- 
 mencement of hostile relations between two coun- 
 tries, are called upon themselves to share the per- 
 sonal hardships and dangers of the conflict. The 
 political leaders who direct the concerns of nations 
 content themselves, in general, with declaring wars 
 and leave it to others to carry them on. It has 
 sometimes been thought that this division of labor 
 has a tendency to render wars more frequent, and 
 that statesmen would be less prompt in urging a re- 
 sort to arms if the blood which is to flow were to be 
 their own. However this may be, it was pretty soon 
 apparent that Patrick Henry was not one of those 
 persons who are disposed to shrink themselves from 
 the dangers to which they may deem it necessary to 
 expose their countrymen. We have thus far seen 
 him engaged in the various civil employments of cul- 
 tivator, merchant, lawyer, and statesman. At the 
 next stage in his career, we find him assuming the 
 
 82 
 
PATRICK HENRY 83 
 
 character of a military leader, and discharging his 
 duties with a spirit and efficiency which seem to 
 show that, if circumstances of a wholly accidental 
 nature had not checked his progress, his energies 
 would probably have taken this direction and given 
 him as high a rank among the warriors of his coun- 
 try as he has in fact obtained among her orators 
 and statesmen. 
 
 When the state of the controversy with the mother 
 country began to render it probable that it would be 
 necessary to resort to arms, the Governors of the 
 several Colonies, either in consequence of instruc- 
 tions from home, or of a concert among themselves, 
 attempted, at about the same time, to get possession 
 of the military stores at all the various points at 
 which they had been collected. On the 20th of 
 April, 1775, the day following the celebrated 19th 
 of April, which was distinguished by the attempt of 
 Governor Gage, in Massachusetts, to seize the mili- 
 tary stores at Cambridge and Concord in Massachu- 
 setts, a similar proceeding took place in Virginia 
 under the direction of Lord Dunmore. About mid- 
 night. Captain Collins, of the armed schooner 
 Magdalen, then lying at Burwell's Ferry, on James 
 River, entered the city of Williamsburg, at the head 
 of a body of marines, and carried away from the 
 public mazagine about twenty barrels of powder, 
 which he succeeded in getting on board his schooner 
 before day. 
 
 The next morning, when the transaction was made 
 known, it created great excitement among the in- 
 habitants, and a considerable number of them mus- 
 
84 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 tered in arms for the purpose of compelling Captain 
 Collins to restore the powder. The members of the 
 municipal government with difficulty restrained this 
 tumultuous movement ; but afterwards, in their cor- 
 porate capacity, they addressed a memorial to Lord 
 Dunmore on the subject. The Governor returned a 
 verbal answer, in which he stated, that, having heard 
 of an insurrection in a neighboring county, he had 
 thought it necessary to remove the powder to a place 
 of safety, but assured the petitioners, upon his word 
 of honor, that, whenever it was wanted for any 
 proper purpose, it should be delivered. This assur- 
 ance, supported by the influence of Peyton Randolph, 
 R. C. Nicholas, and other prominent and popular 
 citizens, restored for a time the public tranquillity. 
 
 In the course of the following night, however, a 
 false report was circulated that a body of marines 
 had again landed from the Magdalen, at some dis- 
 tance from the city, for the purpose of plunder. The 
 inhabitants again rose in arms, and, by the interven- 
 tion of the same eminent patriots, were a second time 
 persuaded to lay them aside. The next day, when 
 tranquillity was entirely restored, the Governor sent 
 a message into the city by one of the magistrates, to 
 inform the people that if they offered the least vio- 
 lence to his secretary. Captain Foy, or to Captain 
 Collins, he would set the slaves at liberty and lay the 
 town in ashes. This threat, issued without any ap- 
 parent necessity, since the two officers whom it was 
 intended to protect had been quietly walking the 
 streets without molestation throughout the whole 
 disturbance, increased the irritation of the inhabi- 
 
PATRICK HENRY 85 
 
 tants, which did not, however, at the moment, show 
 itself in any further act of open insurrection. 
 
 While the accounts of these proceedings were 
 rapidly circulating throughout the colony, intelli- 
 gence came on from the east of the events of the 
 19th of April at Lexington and Concord. The 
 effect was electrical. The volunteer companies 
 which had recently been formed for purposes of 
 discipline, under the direction of Lord Dunmore 
 himself, assembled in arms in every county. By 
 the 27th of April, seven hundred men, well-armed 
 and disciplined, styling themselves friends of con- 
 stitutional liberty and America, were collected at 
 Fredericksburg, with the intention of marching upon 
 the capital. This movement was checked by an ex- 
 press, received from Peyton Randolph on the 29th of 
 April, stating that the gentlemen of Williamsburg 
 and its neighborhood were satisfied with the result of 
 the seizure of the powder, and advised the volunteers 
 to proceed no farther. On the receipt of this ex- 
 press, a council was held, consisting of a hundred 
 and two persons, officers of companies, or delegates 
 to the provincial Convention, who, after expressing 
 in the strongest terms their opinion of the Gov- 
 ernor's proceedings, and their readiness to march 
 at a moment's warning, whenever it might be nec- 
 essar}^ in defence of their rights and liberty, recom- 
 mended to their comrades to return for the present 
 to their homes. They also sent off messengers with 
 advices to the same effect to other meetings of a 
 similar kind which had been called in several other 
 parts of the colony. 
 
86 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 In this way the movement was checked for the 
 moment in every county, excepting Hanover, where 
 Henry had again fixed his residence. Far from 
 sharing the soHcitude that seems to have been felt by 
 the prominent patriots of WilHamsburg to suppress 
 any violent ebullitions of popular feeling, he was 
 rather disposed to encourage them, and avowed to 
 his confidential friends that he considered the seizure 
 of the powder as a fortunate occurrence. Con- 
 vinced that hostilities were inevitable, he was pleased 
 with any incident which naturally tended to awaken 
 the military spirit of the Colony and induce the peo- 
 ple to place themselves at once in a condition for 
 effectual resistance. As soon as he received intelli- 
 gence of the proceedings at Williamsburg, he imme- 
 diately summoned the members of the volunteer 
 company of Hanover county to meet him in arms at 
 Newcastle, on the 2d of May, on business of urgent 
 importance. He also called together the county com- 
 mittee at the same time and place. 
 
 At this meeting, after a powerful and eloquent 
 address from Henry, on the topics .appropriate to the 
 occasion, it was decided to march at once to Wil- 
 liamsburg, and either recover the powder or make 
 reprisals to an equal amount upon the money in the 
 public treasury. Captain Meredith, who com- 
 manded the volunteers, resigned his commission, but 
 consented to serve as lieutenant under Henry, who 
 was immediately elected captain, and without delay 
 took up the line of march for Williamsburg. Ensign 
 Goodall, in the meantime, was ordered to cross the 
 country to King William county, which was the 
 
PATRICK HENRY 8/ 
 
 place of residence of the King's Receiver-General, 
 Richard Corbin, and to obtain from him three hun- 
 dred and thirty pounds, the estimated value of the 
 powder, or take him prisoner. The party reached 
 the house of Mr. Corbin in the night, and sur- 
 rounded it for the purpose of preventing his escape. 
 The next morning they were assured by the ladies 
 of the family that the Receiver-General was not in 
 the house; and, after satisfying themselves that the 
 statement was correct, they left the place and re- 
 joined Henry, agreeably to their orders, at Don- 
 castle's ordinary, about sixteen miles above 
 Williamsburg. 
 
 The movement of Henry created an intense excite- 
 ment throughout the Colony, and revived at once 
 the military ardor which had been momentarily 
 checked by the moderating influence of the patriots 
 at Williamsburg. The volunteer companies rose 
 again in all quarters and marched across the coun- 
 try to join Henry. It is supposed that not less than 
 five thousand men were on their way to meet him. 
 The royalists were alarmed. The Governor imme- 
 diately sent his family on board the Fozvcy man-of- 
 war, which was lying in the harbor, and issued a 
 proclamation, in which he denounced the movement 
 as treasonable, and ordered the people to oppose and 
 resist it. Even the prominent patriots inclined, as 
 before, to a pacific course, and despatched several 
 expresses in succession to Henry, for the purpose of 
 persuading him to recede from his design and dis- 
 band his troops. Henry paid no attention to these 
 remonstrances, but resolutely pursued his march. 
 
88 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 until, on arriving at Doncastle's ordinary, he was met 
 by a messenger from the Governor, bringing him a 
 bill of exchange, drawn by the Receiver-General, for 
 the value of the powder. 
 
 In the meantime, the marines from the Fowey 
 had been landed, and apprehensions were entertained 
 by some that they would make reprisals, for the 
 money thus extorted by Henry, upon the public 
 treasury. Henry, in consequence, addressed a letter 
 to Mr. Nicholas, the treasurer of the Colony, in 
 which he offered, if it should be thought necessary 
 or expedient, to detach from his own troops a guard 
 sufficient for the protection of the treasury. 
 Nicholas declined the offer, and Henry returned 
 with his volunteers to Hanover. Two days after 
 the Governor issued a proclamation denouncing the 
 conduct of '* a certain Patrick Henry " as treason- 
 able, and cautioning the people not to give him any 
 aid or countenance. No attempt was, however, 
 made to institute legal proceedings against him or 
 to give him any personal molestation. Immediately 
 after his return, he proceeded to Philadelphia to take 
 his seat in Congress. He was escorted by a numer- 
 ous cavalcade of his neighbors as far as the Poto- 
 mac, and was met at every stage on his route by ad- 
 dresses and other demonstrations of the public re- 
 gard. No accounts are preserved of his action at 
 this session of Congress; and a series of events oc- 
 curred soon after in Virginia which called for his 
 service in another capacity, and withdrew him from 
 the field of national politics, to which he never after 
 returned. 
 
PATRICK HENRY 89 
 
 About this time the concihatory propositions of 
 Lord North arrived, and the Governor convoked a 
 meeting of the House of Burgesses. He appeared 
 to consider the troubles as entirely at an end, and 
 brought back his lady and family from their retreat 
 on board the Fozvey to his residence at Williams- 
 burg. Scarcely, however, had this arrangement 
 been carried into effect, when he took alarm again 
 at some fresh demonstrations of patriotic feeling 
 which occurred in the city, and withdrew with his 
 family to the sloop of war from which he never re- 
 turned. The House of Burgesses remonstrated 
 strongly against this proceeding, but, finding the 
 Governor resolute, they at length adjourned to the 
 1 2th of October, having first acted on and rejected 
 the proposals of the British ministry. Before the 
 adjournment, they summoned a meeting of the Vir- 
 ginia Convention, which assembled at Richmond on 
 the 24th of July. 
 
 The proceedings of this body, of which Henry 
 was a member, were marked with great vigor and 
 decision. Assuming that the Governor, by retiring 
 from the capital and taking up his residence on board 
 a ship-of-war, had virtually abdicated his authority, 
 they constituted a Committee of Safety, to represent 
 in his absence the executive branch of the govern- 
 ment. An ordinance was also passed for a military 
 organization of the Colony, which provided, among 
 other things, for raising two regiments of regular 
 soldiers, to consist of one thousand and twenty pri- 
 vates, rank and file. The Convention next pro- 
 ceeded to elect officers for these regiments ; and the 
 
90 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 choice they made shows in a striking manner how 
 strongly the pubHc mind had been impressed by the 
 vigor and efficiency of the late movement of Henry. 
 Although till now wholly inexperienced in military 
 affairs, he was appointed not only colonel of the first 
 regiment, but commander-in-chief of all the forces 
 raised, or to be raised, in Virginia. William Wood- 
 ford, who had distinguished himself in the preced- 
 ing war, was appointed colonel of the second regi- 
 ment. Washington had already been appointed by 
 Congress commander-in-chief of the- continental 
 army; and it does not appear that there was any 
 other person in the Colony, whose pretensions, on 
 any other ground but that of mere seniority, could 
 be supposed for a moment to outweigh the brilliant 
 services of Henry, both civil and military. 
 
 It appears, however, from subsequent occurrences, 
 that his appointment was not approved by the older 
 patriots, who probably felt some jealousy of the 
 rapid progress which he had already made in the 
 political career, and some disgust at the freedom 
 with which he had opposed their views on the most 
 important subjects. The Committee of Safety, 
 which constituted for the time the executive power 
 of the colony, was composed of this class of per- 
 sons, under the presidency of Edmund Pendleton, 
 with whom Henry had been brought into collision 
 at the second meeting of the Convention. The ar- 
 rangement of this body was such as to render it 
 necessary for Henry to resign his commission as 
 colonel and commander-in-chief very shortly after 
 his appointment, and before he had had an oppor- 
 
PATRICK HENRY 9 1 
 
 tunity to exhibit the extent of his capacity for this 
 department of the pubhc service. 
 
 In consequence of the measures adopted by the 
 Convention for the mihtary organization of the Col- 
 ony, Lord Dunmore considered it as in a state of 
 rebelHon, and employed himself, with the naval and 
 military forces under his command, in harassing the 
 settlements on the coast. At the close of October, 
 Captain Squire, of the British sloop of war Otter, 
 threatened an attack on Hampton, in consequence 
 of which the inhabitants sent to the Committee of 
 Safety, at Williamsburg, for relief. Colonel Wood- 
 ford, of the second regiment, was immediately de- 
 spatched with a company of riflemen to take com- 
 mand of the troops. The attack was repulsed with- 
 out much difficulty. Lord Dunmore next directed 
 his attention to the county of Norfolk, where his 
 movements became so distressing that it appeared 
 indispensable to check his career. Colonel Wood- 
 ford was the person called upon by the Committee 
 of Safety to perform this service. He was ordered 
 to cross the James River, at Sandy Point, with eight 
 hundred men, and bring Lord Dunmore to action. 
 
 Henry had been desirous to be employed himself 
 on this expedition, and had expressed his wishes to 
 the Committee of Safety. As commander-in-chief, 
 it would seem that he had a right to decide at what 
 point his own presence would be most useful ; but 
 the committee, without regard to this consideration, 
 had given the preference to Woodford. Henry's 
 reasons for dissatisfaction did not end here. Colo- 
 nel Woodford, after having been despatched on this 
 
92 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 expedition, considered himself as under die imme- 
 diate direction of tlie Committee of Safety, or of the 
 Convention, when in session, and made no communi- 
 cations whatever to Henry. On the 6th of Decem- 
 ber, Henry wrote him a letter, stating, in civil terms, 
 that he had received no despatches from him for a 
 long time, and requesting to be informed of his 
 situation and proceedings. Woodford sent him the 
 desired information, but remarked, at the same time, 
 that, " when joined, he should always esteem him- 
 self immediately under the command of Henry, and 
 would obey accordingly ; but, when sent to command 
 a separate and distinct body of troops, under the 
 immediate instructions of the Committee of Safety, 
 whenever that body, or the honorable Convention, 
 were sitting, he should look upon it as his indispen- 
 sable duty to address his intelligence to them, as the 
 supreme power in the Colony." 
 
 The question having thus been brought to a direct 
 issue between the two officers was referred by Henry 
 to the decision of the Committee of Safety. In the 
 meantime, Woodford had obtained a brilliant vic- 
 tory over the British at the Great Bridge, which, by 
 stamping his appointment with the seal of success, 
 would naturally confirm the confidence of the Com- 
 mittee in their own judgment, and their preference 
 for Woodford over Henry. The correctness of 
 Henry's views of the subject was, however, too ap- 
 parent to be seriously questioned, and the Commit- 
 tee, notwithstanding their partiality for Woodford, 
 adopted the following order : 
 
 "/w Committee, December, 1775. Resolved, 
 
PATRICK HENRY 93 
 
 unanimously, that Colonel Woodford, although act- 
 ing upon a separate and detached command, ought 
 to correspond with Colonel Henry, and make returns 
 to him, at proper times, of the state and condition of 
 the forces under his command; and also that he is 
 subject to his orders., when the Convention or the 
 Committee of Safety is not sitting; but that, whilst 
 either of those bodies is sitting, he is to receive his 
 orders from one of them." 
 
 The letter of the chairman of the Committee, Mr. 
 Pendleton, enclosing this order to Woodford, is 
 given by Mr. Wirt, and exhibits not only partiality 
 for Woodford, but a feeling of positive unkindness 
 towards Henry. '' Believe me. Sir," says Pendle- 
 ton, " the unlucky step of calling that gentleman 
 from our councils, where he was useful, into the 
 field in an important station, the duties of which he 
 must, in the nature of things, be an entire stranger 
 to, has given me many an anxious and uneasy mo- 
 ment." And again, '' We shall not intermeddle 
 with the appointment of a general officer by Con- 
 gress, lest it should be thought propriety requires our 
 calling, or rather recommending, our present first 
 officer to that station." There is some plausibility 
 in the former suggestion; but Mr. Pendleton well 
 knew that genius, like that of Henry, supplies, under 
 all circumstances, the want of mere routine. His 
 recent campaign, at the head of the Hanover volun- 
 teers, had sufficiently shown his capacity for actual 
 service in the field. 
 
 A new aspect was given to the position of Henry 
 as commander-in-chief, by the arrival of a corps of 
 
94 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 auxiliary troops, which had been requested from 
 North CaroHna, and which consisted of five or six 
 hundred men, commanded by Colonel Howe. This 
 officer, whose commission was prior in date to that of 
 Woodford, was permitted by the latter to take com- 
 mand of all the forces. In this capacity he ad- 
 dressed his communications, as Woodford had done, 
 to the Committee of Safety or the Convention, with- 
 out regard to the rights of Henry as commander-in- 
 chief, who thus found himself set aside, and, as it 
 were, superseded, by an officer from another Colony 
 of only equal rank. The spirit which prompted 
 these proceedings was displayed in a still more de- 
 cisive form. 
 
 Six regiments had been raised by the Convention, 
 in addition to the two commanded by Henry and 
 Woodford; and an application was made to Con- 
 gress to take the Virginia troops into Continental 
 pay. In acting on this subject. Congress consented 
 to the request in favor of the six additional regi- 
 ments only. This singular discrimination was, 
 doubtless, the result of a suggestion from the Com- 
 mittee of Safety, made for the purpose of disgusting 
 Henry, and of preventing him from being regarded 
 by Congress as a candidate for one of the higher 
 commissions. At this point the Convention inter- 
 fered in support of the commander-in-chief of their 
 election, and remonstrated vigorously against the 
 proceedings of Congress, and requested that, if six 
 regiments only could be taken into the Continental 
 service, the two that were first raised might be placed 
 first on the list. Congress acceded to this request, 
 
PATRICK HENRY 95 
 
 but still gave way to the same malignant influence 
 that had dictated the former arrangement, so far as 
 to confer the appointment of brigadier-general, in 
 the service of the United States, upon Colonels 
 Howe and Lewis, offering Henry a commission of 
 colonel. This he without hesitation declined, and 
 at the same time resigned that which he held from 
 the authorities of his own State. 
 
 The resignation of Henry created great discontent 
 in the army, by whom he was regarded with en- 
 thusiastic admiration and attachment, as the most 
 eminent patriot in the State. The troops immedi- 
 ately put on mourning, and proceeded in military 
 array to his lodgings, where the officers presented to 
 him the following address : 
 
 " To Patrick Henry, Jim., Esq. Deeply im- 
 pressed with a grateful sense of the obligations we 
 lie under to you, for the polite, humane, and tender 
 treatment manifested to us throughout the whole of 
 your conduct while we had the honor of being under 
 your command, permit us to offer you our sincere 
 thanks, as the only tribute we have in our power to 
 pay to your real merits. Notwithstanding your 
 withdrawing yourself from the service fills us with 
 the most poignant sorrow, as it at once deprives us 
 of our father and general, yet, as gentlemen, we are 
 compelled to applaud your spirited resentment to the 
 most glaring indignity. May your merit shine as 
 conspicuous to the world in general, as it hath done 
 to us, and may Heaven shower its choicest blessings 
 upon you ! " 
 
 To this address Henry returned the following 
 answer : 
 
96 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 " Gentlemen : I am exceedingly obliged to you 
 for your approbation of my conduct. Your address 
 does me the highest honor. This kind testimony 
 of your regard for me would have been an ample 
 reward for services much greater than those which 
 I have had the power to perform. I return you, and 
 each of you, gentlemen, my best acknowledgments 
 for the spirit, alacrity, and zeal, you have constantly 
 shown in your several stations. I am unhappy to 
 part with you. I leave the service, but I leave my 
 heart with you. May God bless you, and give you 
 success and safety, and make you the glorious in- 
 struments of saving our country! " 
 
 After receiving this address from Henry, the of- 
 ficers invited him to dine with them at the Raleigh 
 tavern, and were preparing, after dinner, to escort 
 him out of town. In the meantime the soldiers had 
 assembled in a rather disorderly manner, and de- 
 manded their discharge, declaring that they would 
 not consent to serve under any other commander 
 than Henry. Perceiving that this movement, if not 
 checked, might lead to serious consequences, Henry 
 concluded to pass another night in town, during 
 which he visited the troops at their barracks, and 
 urged them to continue in the service, which, as he 
 said, he had quitted for reasons interesting to him- 
 self alone. His exertions, backed by those of other 
 favorite officers, proved successful, and the soldiers 
 acquiesced without further difficulty in the new 
 arrangement. 
 
 A feeling similar to that which prevailed among 
 the troops at Williamsburg, manifested itself, with 
 
PATRICK HENRY 97 
 
 equal distinctness, in other forms, and particularly 
 in an address which was signed by more than ninety 
 officers stationed at several different points, and, 
 in part, under Colonel Woodford's immediate 
 command. 
 
 In consequence of these demonstrations of opin- 
 ion and feeling, in regard to the resignation of 
 Henry, the Committee of Safety felt themselves 
 obliged to publish a defence of their conduct, which 
 appeared in a leading newspaper, with the signature 
 of A Friend of Truth. The Committee represent 
 themselves as having, in the first instance, requested 
 that all the State troops should be taken into the 
 Continental service, and that, when the Convention 
 remonstrated against the discrimination made by 
 Congress, the Committee, in transmitting this re- 
 monstrance, had particularly urged a compliance 
 with it, " as a point of great consequence to our har- 
 mony, in which may be involved the good of the 
 common cause." The defence, being thus confined 
 to a justification of the formal proceedings of the 
 Committee, has, of course, no tendency to repel the 
 real charge, which is founded in the supposition of 
 secret suggestions of an adverse character. 
 
 Such was the termination of the military career of 
 Patrick Henry. There can, of course, be but one 
 opinion among men of correct feeling in regard to 
 the malignant intrigue by which it was brought 
 about ; but it may well be doubted whether the result 
 was in any way really injurious, either to Henry or 
 the country. His peculiar gift was eloquence, for 
 which the military service would have afforded no 
 
 A. B., VOL. HI. —7 
 
98 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 field whatever ; and, supposing even that he had ex- 
 hibited, on trial, an aptitude for warlike affairs not 
 inferior to his natural talent for public speaking, it 
 may be questioned whether the army, at least in any 
 other part than that of commander-in-chief, afforded 
 as good a field for honorable and useful activity as 
 the senate and the bar. 
 
 As the oracle of his native State, at the time be- 
 yond comparison the most prominent in the country, 
 he occupied as important a place as could well have 
 been secured by any other career of service. Had 
 his age permitted him to take part in the debates of 
 Congress, or to fill executive offices under the new 
 Constitution, he might have been rather more ex- 
 tensively known to his contemporaries at home and 
 abroad; but, on the other hand, by having lived at a 
 somewhat earlier period, and connected his name, 
 as he did, with the first movements of the Revolu- 
 tion, he obtained a very peculiar glory, with which 
 hardly any other growing out of the events of that 
 time can come into competition. The opposition 
 which checked his military career, however unami- 
 able and discreditable to those who were concerned 
 in it, was perhaps not unnatural, considering the un- 
 ceremonious manner in which he had resisted the 
 advice and authority of the older political leaders. 
 It was fortunate for him that the disgust and jeal- 
 ousy which he thus provoked produced no worse 
 result than his forced retreat from the army, and a 
 passing mortification, for which he was destined to 
 receive very early and ample satisfaction from his 
 grateful fellow-citizens. 
 
PATRICK HENRY 99 
 
 The state of the relations between the Colonies 
 and the mother country virtually annulled the estab- 
 lished forms of government, and it was necessary 
 for the Colonies to reorganize their political insti- 
 tutions on a new foundation. For this purpose, 
 each Colony was regarded as a distinct community, 
 possessing, by the laws of nature, an inherent right, 
 under existing circumstances, to adopt any form of 
 government which it might prefer. The right was 
 exercised through the agency of popular conven- 
 tions ; and a meeting of this kind was held at Wil- 
 liamsburg, in Virginia, on the 6th of May, 1776. 
 Henry was elected a member of this body for the 
 county of Hanover. On the 1 5th of May, Mr. Cary 
 reported, from a committee of the whole House, 
 with a suitable preamble, two important resolutions, 
 one of which instructed the delegates to the General 
 Congress to propose to that body a Declaration of 
 Independence and a confederation of the Colonies, 
 while the other provided for raising a committee to 
 prepare a declaration of rights, and a plan of govern- 
 ment for the new Commonwealth of Virginia. 
 
 In pursuance of the second resolution, a commit- 
 tee was appointed, consisting of thirty-four of the 
 most prominent patriots, including Henry, and, 
 among the others, Mr. Madison. On the 12th of 
 June, the committee reported a declaration of rights, 
 and, on the 29th. a plan of government, both which 
 were unanimously adopted by the Convention. The 
 declaration was prepared by Jefferson, the constitu- 
 tion chiefly by George Mason, a neighbor and inti- 
 mate friend of Washington. Jefferson had trans- 
 
 Lof 
 
lOO AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 mitted from Philadelphia, where he was then In at- 
 tendance as a member of Congress, to his friend, 
 Mr. Wythe, a plan of government, accompanied by 
 a declaration of rights, to be submitted to the Con- 
 vention. Before it was received, the plan of the 
 committee had already been adopted; but it was 
 subsequently modified, in some parts, in accordance 
 with Mr. Jefferson's views, and the declaration 
 which he had sent was prefixed to it as a preamble. 
 This document coincides, in its general outline, and 
 in many particular passages, with the Declaration 
 of Independence, which was issued, on the 4th of 
 July following, by the General Congress; and, as 
 Mr. Jefferson's name was not at the time publicly 
 connected with the Virginia Declaration, he has 
 sometimes, on the strength of this coincidence, been 
 accused of plagiarism in preparing that of the 4th 
 of July. It is sufficient to say, in answer to this 
 imputation, that the plan of government which he 
 transmitted to Mr. Wythe, including the Declara- 
 tion as it now stands in the statute-book, are still 
 preserved, in Mr. Jefferson's handwriting, in the 
 archives of Virginia. 
 
 By the new Constitution, the executive power was 
 committed to a chief magistrate, with the title of 
 governor, to be annually elected by the legislature, 
 and to be eligible for three successive terms. For 
 the purpose of putting the measure at once in opera- 
 tion, the Convention took upon themselves the re- 
 sponsibility of designating the chief magistrate, and 
 thus obtained an opportunity of compensating 
 Henry, by a signal mark of public favor, for the 
 
PATRICK HENRY lOI 
 
 glaring indignity which, in the language of the ad- 
 dress from the troops, had been offered him by the 
 Committee of Safety. On proceeding to a choice, 
 the votes stood as follows : Patrick Henry, sixty ; 
 Thomas Nelson, forty-five; John Page, one. Nel- 
 son had been president of the council under the pre- 
 ceding government, and was probably put forward 
 by the friends of the committee as an opponent to 
 Henry. He was afterwards elected a member of 
 the new council, but declined the appointment on the 
 score of age and infirmity. 
 
 In answer to the notice of his election, communi- 
 cated to him by a committee of the Convention, the 
 new Governor returned the following address : 
 
 '* To the Honorable the President and House of 
 Convention. Gentlemen : The vote of this day, ap- 
 pointing me Governor of the Commonwealth, has 
 been notified to me, in the most polite and obliging 
 manner, by George Mason, Henry Lee, Dudley 
 Diggs, John Blair, and Bartholomew Danbridge, 
 Esquires. 
 
 " A sense of the high and unmerited honor con- 
 ferred upon me by the Convention fills my heart with 
 gratitude, which I trust my whole life will manifest. 
 I take this earliest opportunity to express my thanks, 
 which I wish to convey to you, gentlemen, in the 
 strongest terms of acknowledgment. 
 
 " When I reflect that the tyranny of the British 
 King and Parliament hath kindled a formidable war, 
 now raging throughout this widely-extended conti- 
 nent, and in the operations of which this Common- 
 wealth must bear so great a part ; and that, from the 
 
I02 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 events of this war, the lasting happiness or misery of 
 a great proportion of the human species will finally 
 result : that, in order to preserve this Commonwealth 
 from anarchy, and its attendant ruin, and to give 
 vigor to our councils and effect to all our measures, 
 government hath been necessarily assumed and 
 new-modelled ; that it is exposed to numberless haz- 
 ards and perils, in its infantine state; that it can 
 never attain to maturity, or ripen into firmness, un- 
 less it is guided by an affectionate assiduity, and 
 managed by great abilities; I lament my want of 
 talents; I feel my mind filled with anxiety and un- 
 easiness to find myself so unequal to the duties of 
 that important station to which I am called by the 
 favor of my fellow-citizens at this truly critical con- 
 juncture. The errors of my conduct shall be atoned 
 for, so far as I am able, by unwearied endeavors to 
 secure the freedom and happiness of our common 
 country. 
 
 " I shall enter upon the duties of my office, when- 
 ever you. Gentlemen, shall be pleased to direct ; rely- 
 ing upon the known wisdom and virtue of your hon- 
 orable House to supply my defects, and to give per- 
 manency and success to that system of government 
 which you have founded, and which is so wisely 
 calculated to secure equal liberty, and advance hu- 
 man happiness. 
 
 " T have the honor to be, Gentlemen, your most 
 obedient and very humble servant, 
 
 " P. Henry, Jun/' 
 
 The election of Henry as Governor was received 
 with great favor by the public, and especially by the 
 
PATRICK HENRY IO3 
 
 troops. The two regiments which he had recently 
 commanded presented to him the following address : 
 
 " May it please your Excellency ; Permit us, with 
 the sincerest sentiments of respect and joy, to con- 
 gratulate your Excellency upon your unsolicited pro- 
 motion to the highest honors a grateful people can 
 bestow. Uninfluenced by private ambition, regard- 
 less of sordid interest, you have uniformly pursued 
 the general good of your country; and have taught 
 the world that an ingenuous love of the rights of 
 mankind, an inflexible resolution, and a steady per- 
 severance in the practice of every public and private 
 virtue, lead directly to preferment, and give the best 
 title to the honors of our uncorrupted and vigorous 
 state. 
 
 *' Once happy under your military command, we 
 hope for more extensive blessings from your civil 
 administration. 
 
 " Intrusted as your Excellency is, in some meas- 
 ure, with the support of a young empire, our hearts 
 are willing, and our arms ready, to maintain your 
 authority as chief magistrate; happy that we have 
 lived to see the day when freedom and equal rights, 
 established by the voice of the people, shall prevail 
 through the land. 
 
 " We are, may it please your Excellency, your 
 Excellency's most devoted and most obedient 
 servants." 
 
 To this address Henry returned the following 
 answer : 
 
 " Gentlemen of- the First and Second Virginia 
 Regiments: Your address does me the highest 
 
I04 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 honor. Be pleased to accept my most cordial 
 thanks for your favorable and kind sentiments of 
 my principles and conduct. 
 
 '' The high appointment to which my fellow-citi- 
 zens have called me was, indeed, tmsolicited, un- 
 merited. I am, therefore, under increased obliga- 
 tions to promote the safety, dignity, and happiness 
 of the Commonwealth. 
 
 *' While the civil powers are employed in estab- 
 lishing a system of government, liberal, equitable, in 
 every part of which the genius of equal liberty 
 breathes her blessed influence, to you is assigned the 
 glorious task of saving, by your valor, all that is dear 
 to mankind. Go on. Gentlemen, to finish the great 
 work you have so nobly and successfully begun. 
 Convince the tyrants again that they shall bleed, that 
 America will bleed to her last drop, ere their wicked 
 schemes find success. 
 
 " The remembrance of my former connection with 
 you shall be ever dear to me. I honor your pro- 
 fession, I revere that patriot virtue, which, in your 
 conduct, hath produced cheerful obedience, exem- 
 plary courage, and contempt of hardship and danger. 
 Be assured. Gentlemen, I shall feel the highest pleas- 
 ure in embracing every opportunity to contribute to 
 your happiness and welfare ; and I trust the day will 
 come when I shall make one of those that will hail 
 you among the triumphant deliverers of America. 
 
 " I have the honor to be. Gentlemen, your most 
 obedient and very humble servant, 
 
 " P. Henry, Jun." 
 
 The Governor's palace at Williamsburg, which 
 
PATRICK HENRY I05 
 
 had been previously converted into an hospital, was 
 now restored to its original use; and, on the 5th of 
 July, the new Governor and Council took the oaths 
 of office and entered on the discharge of their 
 duties. 
 
 Thus had Henry, in the short space of thirteen 
 years, which had elapsed since he argued the Par- 
 sons' Cause, on the ist of December, 1763, ascended 
 from the position of an obscure advocate and a mere 
 private citizen, through the responsible stations of 
 member of the Assembly, member of Congress, and 
 commander-in-chief of the Virginia forces, to the 
 chief magistracy of the Commonwealth. He had 
 risen solely by the effect of talent and character, 
 without any aid from powerful connections, without 
 the use of any courtly arts, without even the inde- 
 fatigable and persevering industry which sometimes 
 supplies the absence of almost every other advantage. 
 Jealousy and envy had tried their worst upon him, 
 not without some transient success, but had signally 
 failed in the end, in all their efforts to obstruct his 
 progress and injure his position. The bar-keeper of 
 the little inn at Hanover had become the occupant 
 of the Governor's palace at Williamsburg. The 
 " obscure advocate " of the Parsons' Cause was now 
 the greatest orator in the country, and one of the 
 leading statesmen and magistrates in a new political 
 system, created in no small degree by his own exer- 
 tions. The indolent youth, who, at five and twenty, 
 seemed to have lost every chance for success and dis- 
 tinction, had assumed, before forty, an eminent posi- 
 tion among those whom Bacon describes as the first 
 
I06 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 class of great men, the founders of nations. The 
 most difficult and important objects of his earthly 
 mission were accomplished. We are now to follow 
 him through the highly honorable but comparatively 
 easy routine of political and professional duty, where 
 we shall find him exhibiting the same talents and vir- 
 tues which had carried him, with so much brilliancy 
 and success, through the stormy struggles of the 
 Revolution. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 Administration as Governor. — Return to private Life.— Re- 
 elected Governor. — Resigns. — Elected to the Assembly. 
 
 The office of Governor of a State, however honor- 
 able as a mark of public esteem, is one, in general, 
 of mere routine, and affords but little opportunity 
 for the display of superior talents, especially in the 
 line in which Henry was particularly distinguished, 
 that of forensic and parliamentary eloquence. His 
 term of service in this capacity is accordingly the 
 portion of his life which furnishes the most scanty 
 supply of materials for the biographer. Soon after 
 his entrance into office, Lord Dunmore evacuated 
 the territory of the State. The military operations, 
 which had been going on during the preceding year, 
 were, in consequence, brought to a close, and were 
 not renewed, to any considerable extent, while Henry 
 was Governor. He had, therefore, no occasion for 
 the exercise of the powers of commander-in-chief, 
 which, as an appendage to the chief magistracy, had 
 now been restored to him by the suffrages of the leg- 
 islature. In his civil capacity, his administration is 
 represented as having been efficient and successful, 
 but undistinguished by any event of extraordinary 
 importance. 
 
 At the first session of the legislature after his elec- 
 tion, an incident occurred of a singular, rather than 
 107 
 
I08 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 very important, character, which seems to require 
 some notice in an account of his Hfe, although, from 
 the means of information now extant and accessible, 
 it is difficult to form a very satisfactory idea of it. 
 
 The Assembly met in the autumn of the year 1 776, 
 perhaps the most gloomy period of the war. The 
 occupation of New York by the British troops, and 
 the losses sustained by Washington, in two or three 
 actions in the neighborhood of that city, had, in a 
 great measure, obliterated the recollection of the suc- 
 cesses of the preceding year. The extreme difficulty 
 of providing the resources necessary for keeping up 
 even the appearance of opposition to the numerous 
 well-disciplined and well-appointed armies of Eng- 
 land began to be apparent. There was no assurance 
 yet of any aid from abroad. Under these disastrous 
 circumstances, a vague imagination seems to have 
 crossed the minds of a portion of the members of the 
 Virginia legislature, that something might be gained 
 by a recourse to the expedient so often adopted by 
 the Romans in cases of great emergency, the concen- 
 tration of the whole civil and military power of the 
 republic in the hands of a single person, with the title 
 of dictator. 
 
 The inutility, in reference to the general situation 
 of the country, of constituting a State dictator, who 
 would have had, as such, no right to exercise his un- 
 bounded powers out of the narrow limits of his own 
 dominion, or for any other than State objects, was 
 sufficiently obvious, one would have thought, to sat- 
 isfy the least judicious person that such a project, if 
 not dangerous, was wholly destitute of plausibility. 
 
PATRICK HENRY IO9 
 
 It is certain, however, that the plan was contem- 
 plated, for it became the subject of warm and 
 acrimonious discussion among the members of the 
 Assembly. It is also known that Henry was the per- 
 son whom the projectors of this scheme intended to 
 create dictator. There is no proof that he had him- 
 self any share in the plan, which was even distinctly 
 disavowed at the time, and ever since, by himself and 
 his friends. It appears, however, that he did not 
 escape suspicion. While the project was in agita- 
 tion. Colonel Archibald Gary, then speaker of the 
 Assembly, a patriot of great consideration, but of a 
 somewhat violent temper, met, in the lobby of the 
 house. Colonel Syme, the brother-in-law of Henry, 
 and addressed him as follows : " I am told that your 
 brother wishes to be dictator ; tell him, from me, thai 
 the day of his appointment shall be the day of his 
 death ; for he shall feel my dagger in his heart before 
 the sunset of that day." Colonel Syme replied, in 
 great agitation, that, if such a project existed, his 
 brother-in-law would certainly never lend himself to 
 it, or to any other plan which would endanger the 
 liberty of the country. 
 
 Whatever apprehensions may have been enter- 
 tained at the time by individuals, it is certain that 
 no unfavorable impression was produced upon the 
 general feeling of the Assembly, for, at the next an- 
 nual election, on the 30th of May, 1777, Henry was 
 unanimously reelected Governor, the members of 
 the legislature being mostly the same as those of the 
 preceding year, and Colonel Gary being again the 
 presiding officer of the House. It does not appear 
 
no AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 from the account that the project was at this time 
 formally proposed to the Assembly; but four years 
 afterwards, at another period of general alarm, when 
 the territory of Virginia had become again the thea- 
 tre of actual hostilities, and when the session of the 
 legislature had been interrupted by an inroad of Brit- 
 ish troops, the project was again mooted, and not 
 only made the subject of consideration in private, but 
 actually proposed in the Assembly, and lost by only 
 a very few votes. 
 
 Mr. Jefferson, who was then Governor of the 
 State, and had, of course, the strongest motives for 
 informing himself, as far as possible, of the real 
 character of this singular scheme, denounces it in 
 strong terms in his " Notes on Virginia," but acquits 
 the persons implicated in it, whom he does not name, 
 of anything worse than an error of judgment. 
 Henry was now, as before, the intended dictator; 
 and, as the plan must have been within his knowl- 
 edge, it seems hardly possible that it could have been 
 entertained for years in succession, and finally pro- 
 posed in the legislature, without his concurrence. 
 Supposing that he suggested or favored it, there is, 
 of course, no reason to suspect that he had any other 
 object in view than the ostensible one of the public 
 good. 
 
 His favorite reading was the history of Rome; 
 and the example of that illustrious commonwealth, 
 as well as his own experience, had shown him the 
 entire incapacity of deliberative assemblies for the 
 conduct of military affairs. The real objection to 
 the plan of a State dictator was not, in fact, the 
 
PATRICK HENRY III 
 
 danger resulting from the existence of such an office 
 to the pubhc Hberty, but its utter inefficiency for the 
 defence of the Union. The expediency of some- 
 thing of the kind, for State purposes, was felt in 
 Virginia, in 1781 ; and, ahhough the plan of creat- 
 ing a dictator was rejected, resolutions were passed 
 conferring on the Governor and Council extraordi- 
 nary powers, amounting to an unlimited control over 
 the purse and sword of the State, and requesting 
 Congress to intrust authority of a similar description 
 to the commander-in-chief of the forces of the Union, 
 which was, in fact, done. The concern, if any, which 
 Henry may have had in the project of constituting 
 a dictator need not, therefore, diminish our confi- 
 dence in his patriotism, although it might, perhaps, 
 impair in some degree our respect for his judgment. 
 Even in this particular, as the tendency of his mind 
 was always for the boldest and most energetic course 
 of action, the plan would not have been very much at 
 variance with the predominant traits of his character. 
 During the second year of Henry's administration 
 as Governor occurred the intrigue against the in- 
 fluence of Washington, which has sometimes been 
 called the Conzvay Cabal The origin, character, 
 extent, and precise objects of this conspiracy are not 
 very exactly known. It appears to have included a 
 good many members of Congress and some distin- 
 guished officers of the army. The success of General 
 Gates, in the capture of the British troops under 
 Burgoyne, seems to have given to Gates himself, and 
 perhaps to others, the impression that he was supe- 
 rior in efficiency as a commander to Washington. 
 
112 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 Those who held this opinion may have thought it 
 poHtic and patriotic to endeavor to substitute Gates 
 for Washington in the chief command. Other in- 
 fluences, of a less honorable kind, no doubt, had their 
 effect in determining the movement. The existence 
 of the intrigue was made known to Washington 
 through the indiscretion of General Conway, and the 
 odium of the affair has finally rested upon him more 
 directly than upon any other person, though it is 
 difficult to view him in any other light than as an 
 instrument of Gates. The intention seems to have 
 been -to act through the medium of Congress, where 
 the cabal had supporters ; to disgust Washington by 
 repeated slights, until he should be induced to re- 
 sign, and then to appoint Gates in his place. 
 
 The appointment of Conway to the place of In- 
 spector-General of the army, against the express 
 advice of Washington, and after his hostility to the 
 commander-in-chief was known, was the strongest 
 demonstration made by the conspirators towards car- 
 rying their views into effect. The discovery of the 
 plot by Washington, and his cool and discreet, but 
 at the same time firm, conduct on the occasion, ap- 
 parently disconcerted the leaders, and checked their 
 operations for the time; while the total failure of 
 Gates, in his southern campaign, removed every hon- 
 est and plausible pretext for a change. Conway's 
 characteristic indiscretion afterwards involved him 
 in a controversy with Congress, which led to his 
 compulsory resignation, and in a duel which nearly 
 cost him his life. While suffering from the effect of 
 his wounds, and in expectation of immediate dissolu- 
 
PATRICK HENRY II3 
 
 tion, he wrote a penitential letter to Washington, in 
 which he avows, with expressions of deep regret, his 
 share in the plot, and declares Washington to be, in 
 his eyes, the " great and good man." This voluntary 
 confession of the principal agent in the plot, while it 
 does but little to atone for his guilt, is valuable as a 
 complete bar to the suspicion, which might otherwise 
 have arisen in some minds, that there was a real 
 foundation for imputations of some sort upon the 
 character or capacity of Washington. An attempt 
 was made to implicate Henry in this cabal. An 
 anonymous letter was sent to him on this subject, 
 dated at Yorktown, January 12th, 1778. 
 
 A passage in that letter, which is given as an ex- 
 tract from a letter of General Conway to a friend, 
 coincides exactly in substance, and very nearly in the 
 language, with one in a letter from Conway to Gates, 
 which accidentally became known to Washington, 
 and first revealed to him the existence of the plot. 
 It is worthy of remark that the substantial genuine- 
 ness of the latter passage is here avowed by one of 
 the conspirators, although the defence afterwards 
 set up by Gates, when the affair was brought home 
 to him by Washington, was, that the supposed ex- 
 tract was not in the letter, and was a " wicked for- 
 gery." The true state of the case might easily have 
 been shown by producing the letter, which the con- 
 spirators never ventured to do. The reality of the 
 passage in question is admitted by the strongest im- 
 plication in the first letters written by Conway and 
 Gates to Washington on the subject, as was re- 
 marked by Washington at the time, in his pointed 
 
 A. B., VOL. III. — 8 
 
114 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 and manly reply to the latter. It is here directly 
 avowed by one of the conspirators. The pretence of 
 forgery was evidently an after-thought. This over- 
 ture was treated by Henry in the way which might 
 have been expected from his known character. He 
 transmitted the communication to Washington, en- 
 closed in the following letter : 
 
 "Williamsburg, February 20th, 1778. Dear Sir: 
 You will, no doubt, be surprised at seeing the en- 
 closed letter, in which the encomiums bestowed on 
 me are as undeserved as the censures aimed at you 
 are unjust. I am sorry there should be one man 
 who counts himself my friend, who is not yours. 
 
 ** Perhaps I give you needless trouble in handing 
 you this paper. The writer of it may be too insig- 
 nificant to deserve any notice. If I knew this to be 
 the case, I should not have intruded on your time, 
 which is so precious. But there may possibly be 
 some scheme or party forming to your prejudice. 
 The enclosed leads to such a suspicion. Believe me, 
 Sir, I have too high a sense of the obligations Amer- 
 ica has to you, to abet or countenance so unworthy a 
 proceeding. The most exalted merit hath ever been 
 found to attract envy. But I please myself with the 
 hope that the same fortitude and greatness of mind 
 which have hitherto braved all the difficulties and 
 dangers inseparable from your station, will rise supe- 
 rior to every attempt of the envious partisan. 
 
 " I really cannot tell who is the writer of this 
 letter, which not a little perplexes me. The hand- 
 writing is altogether strange to me. 
 
 " To give you the trouble of this gives me pain. 
 
PATRICK HENRY II5 
 
 ft would suit my inclination better to give you some 
 assistance in the great business of the war. But I 
 ^vill not conceal anything from you by which you 
 may be affected ; for I really think your personal wel- 
 fare and the happiness of America are intimately 
 connected. I beg you will be assured of that high 
 regard and esteem, with which I ever am, dear Sir, 
 your affectionate friend and very humble servant/' 
 
 On the 5th of March, Henry wrote a second letter 
 to Washington on the same subject, as follows : 
 
 ** Dear Sir : By an express which Colonel Finnic 
 sent to camp I enclosed to you an anonymous letter 
 which I hope got safe to hand. I am anxious to hear 
 something that will serve to explain the strange 
 affair, which I am now informed is taken up respect- 
 ing you. Mr. Custis has just paid us a visit, and by 
 him I learn sundry particulars concerning General 
 Mififlin that much surprised me. It is very hard to 
 trace the schemes and windings of the enemies to 
 America. I really thought that man its friend ; how- 
 ever, I am too far from him to judge of his present 
 temper. 
 
 " While you face the armed enemies of our liberty 
 in the field, and, by the favor of God, have been kept 
 unhurt, I trust your country w^ill never harbor in her 
 bosom the miscreant who w^ould ruin her best sup- 
 porter. I wash not to flatter; but when arts, un- 
 worthy honest men, are used to defame and traduce 
 you, I think it not amiss, but a duty, to assure you 
 of that estimation in which the public hold you. Not 
 that I think any testimony I can bear is necessary for 
 your support or private satisfaction ; for a bare recol- 
 
Il6 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 lection of what is past must give you sufficient pleas- 
 ure in every circumstance of life. But I cannot help 
 assuring you, on this occasion, of the high sense of 
 gratitude which all ranks of men in this your native 
 country bear to you. It will give me sincere pleasure 
 to manifest my regard and render my best services 
 to you or yours. I do not like to make a parade of 
 these things, and I know you are not fond of it ; how- 
 ever, 1 hope the occasion will plead my excuse. 
 
 " Wishing you all possible felicity, I am, my 
 dear Sir, your ever affectionate friend, and very 
 humble servant." * 
 
 In the Spring of 1778, Henry was unanimously 
 reelected Governor. At the close of the year, al- 
 though he had served three terms, and was conse- 
 quently no longer eligible by the Constitution, it 
 seems to have been the wish and intention of some 
 of the members of the legislature to reelect him once 
 more, on the ground, that, as he was chosen the first 
 time by the Convention, and not by the legislature, 
 the period during which he was constitutionally 
 eligible did not commence till the second year of his 
 administration. Henry, however, did not think 
 proper to acquiesce in this construction of the Con- 
 stitution, and declined a reelection in the following 
 letter to the speaker of the Assembly : 
 
 " May 28th, 1779. Sir : The term for which I 
 had the honor to be elected Governor by the late As- 
 sembly being just about to expire, and the Constitu- 
 
 * Washington's answers, and all the letters on this subject, 
 may be found in " Washington's Writings," Vol. V., pp. 483- 
 S18. 
 
PATRICK HENRY II7 
 
 tion, as I think, making me ineligible to that office, 
 I take the liberty to communicate to the Assembly, 
 through you. Sir, my intention to retire in four or 
 five days. 
 
 " I have thought it necessary to give this notifica- 
 tion of my design, in order that the Assembly may 
 have the earliest opportunity of deliberating upon 
 the choice of a successor to me in office. 
 
 " With great regard, I have the honor to be, Sir, 
 your most obedient servant." 
 
 In the Autumn of 1784, six years after the close 
 of his former term of service, Henry, being now 
 eligible by the Constitution, was again elected Gov- 
 ernor, and, at the termination of his official year, 
 was reelected to the same office. It was the wish 
 and intention of the legislature that he should have 
 completed another three years' term ; but, at the end 
 of the second year, he declined reelection. 
 
 The motive which induced him to decline was the 
 embarrassed state of his private affairs. Although 
 his manner of living was entirely free from ostenta- 
 tion, he had found the salary allowed him as Gov- 
 ernor insufficient to cover his expenses, and had been 
 compelled to contract debts which he had no means 
 of paying, but by the sale of a part of his estate, or by 
 resuming the practice of his profession. He judi- 
 ciously chose the latter course. During his employ- 
 ment in the public service some changes had taken 
 place in his private relations. His wife, after linger- 
 ing through several years of ill-health and suffering, 
 had died. Soon after this event, he had sold the es- 
 tate on which he had been residing in Hanover 
 
Il8 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 county, and had purchased a tract of eight or ten 
 thousand acres of land in the new county of Henry, 
 which had been erected during his administration, 
 and called by his name. 
 
 In the year 1777, he espoused, in second nuptials, 
 a daughter of Mr. A. W. Dandridge, and fixed his 
 residence at his newly-acquired estate, called Leath- 
 erwood. On resuming his attendance in the courts, 
 he confined himself chiefly to the duties of counsellor 
 and advocate, leaving it to his junior associates to 
 attend to technical details. He was employed in all 
 the cases of importance, as well in other parts of the 
 State, as in his own immediate neighborhood. After 
 the close of his first term of service as Governor, he 
 was elected a member of the Assembly, and con- 
 tinued till the close of his active life to take a prom- 
 inent part in the proceedings of that body. In this 
 field of action he distinguished himself by liberality 
 of feeling and soundness of judgment, not less than 
 by the superiority of his powers in debate. 
 
 Immediately after the close of the Revolution, he 
 proposed in the Assembly that the persons who had 
 left the State, in consequence of their adherence to 
 the policy of the mother country, should be permitted 
 to return. This measure was violently resisted, but 
 was finally adopted, chiefly under the impression pro- 
 duced by his overwhelming eloquence. A report of 
 his speech on this occasion has been preserved, and 
 is remarkable for its correct views of the economical 
 situation of the country, and its sagacious foresight 
 of the future course of events, as well as for its noble 
 sentiments and richness of language. Judge Tyler, 
 
PATRICK HENRY II9 
 
 then speaker of the Assembly, opposed the measure 
 with extreme violence in committee of the whole, 
 and, appealing personally to Henry, as one of its 
 principal supporters, expressed his wonder, that he, 
 of all men, after standing forward as the great cham- 
 pion of Independence, should now appear as the ad- 
 vocate of the detested refugees. Henry replied as 
 follows : 
 
 " The personal feelings of a politician ought not 
 to be permitted to enter these walls. The question 
 is a national one, and, in deciding it, if we act wisely, 
 nothing will be regarded but the interest of the na- 
 tion. On the altar of my country's good I am walling 
 to sacrifice all personal resentments, all private 
 wrongs ; and I flatter myself that I am not the only 
 man in the House who is capable of making such a 
 sacrifice. We have, Sir, an extensive country, with- 
 out population; what can be a more obvious policy 
 than that this country ought to be peopled ? People, 
 Sir, form the strength, and constitute the wealth, of 
 a nation. I want to see our vast forests filled up by 
 some process a little more speedy than the ordinary 
 course of nature. I wish to see these States rapidly 
 ascending to that rank which their natural advan- 
 tages authorize them to hold among the nations of 
 the earth. 
 
 " Cast your eyes. Sir, over this extensive country ; 
 observe the salubrity of your climate ; the variety and 
 fertility of your soil ; and see that soil intersected in 
 every quarter by bold, navigable streams, flowing to 
 the east and to the west, as if the finger of Heaven 
 were marking out the course of your settlements, in- 
 
I20 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 viting you to enterprise, and pointing the way to 
 wealth. Sir, you are destined, at some time or other, 
 to become a great agricultural and commercial peo- 
 ple ; the only question is, whether you choose to reach 
 this point by slow gradations, and at some distant 
 period; lingering on through a long and sickly mi- 
 nority; subjected, meanwhile, to the machinations, 
 insults, and oppressions, of enemies, foreign and do- 
 mestic, without sufficient strength to resist and chas- 
 tise them; or whether you choose rather to rush at 
 once, as it were, to the full enjoyment of those high 
 destinies, and be able to cope, single-handed, with the 
 proudest oppressor of the Old World. If you prefer 
 the latter course, as I trust you do, encourage emi- 
 gration ; encourage the husbandmen, the mechanics, 
 the merchants, of the Old World, to come and settle 
 in this land of promise; make it the home of the 
 skilful, the industrious, the fortunate, and happy, as 
 well as the asylum of the distressed ; fill up the meas- 
 ure of your population as speedily as you can, by the 
 means which Heaven hath placed in your power ; and 
 I venture to prophesy there are those now living who 
 will see this favored land amongst the most powerful 
 on earth ; able, Sir, to take care of herself, without 
 resorting to that policy which is always so dangerous, 
 though sometimes unavoidable, of calling in foreign 
 aid. Yes, Sir ; they will see her great in arts and in 
 arms ; her golden harvests waving over fields of im- 
 measurable extent; her commerce penetrating the 
 most distant seas, and her cannon silencing the vain 
 boasts of those who now proudly affect to rule the 
 waves. 
 
PATRICK HENRY 12 1 
 
 " But, Sir, you must have men; you cannot get 
 along without them ; those heavy forests of valuable 
 timber under which your lands are groaning must be 
 cleared away ; those vast riches which cover the face 
 of your soil, as well as those which lie hid in its 
 bosom, are to be developed and gathered only by the 
 skill and enterprise of men; your timber, Sir, must 
 be worked up into ships, to transport the productions 
 of the soil from which it has been cleared ; then you 
 must have commercial men and commercial capital 
 to take off your productions and find the best mar- 
 kets for them abroad. Your great want, Sir, is the 
 want of men, and these you must have, and will have 
 speedily, if you are wise. 
 
 '' Do you ask how you are to get them? Open 
 your doors. Sir, and they will come in; the popula- 
 tion of the Old World is full to overflowing; that 
 population is ground, too, by the oppressions of the 
 governments under which they live. Sir, they are 
 already standing on tiptoe upon their native shores, 
 and looking to your coasts with a wishful and long- 
 ing eye ; they see here a land blessed with natural and 
 political advantages which are not equalled by those 
 of any other country upon earth ; a land on which a 
 gracious Providence hath emptied the horn of abun- 
 dance ; a land over which Peace hath now stretched 
 forth her white wings, and where content and plenty 
 lie down at every door ! Sir, they see something still 
 more attractive than all this ; they see a land in which 
 Liberty hath taken up her abode ; that Liberty, whom 
 they had considered as a fabled goddess, existing 
 only in the fancies of poets ; they see her here a real 
 
122 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 divinity, her altars rising on every hand throughout 
 these happy States, her glories chanted by three mil- 
 lions of tongues, and the whole region smiling under 
 her blessed influence. Sir, let but this our celestial 
 goddess. Liberty, stretch forth her fair hand toward 
 the people of the Old World, tell them to come, and 
 bid them welcome, and you will see them pouring in 
 from the north, from the south, from the east, and 
 from the west ; your wildernesses will be cleared and 
 settled, your deserts will smile, your ranks will be 
 filled, and you will soon be in a condition to defy the 
 powers of any adversary. 
 
 " But gentlemen object to any accession from 
 Great Britain, and particularly to the return of the 
 British refugees. Sir, I feel no objection to the re- 
 turn of those deluded people ; they have, to be sure, 
 mistaken their own interests most wofully, and most 
 wofully have they suffered the punishment due to 
 their offences. But the relations which we bear to 
 them and to their native country are now changed; 
 their king hath acknowledged our Independence ; the 
 quarrel is over ; peace hath returned, and found us a 
 free people. Let us have the magnanimity. Sir, to 
 lay aside our antipathies and prejudices, and consider 
 the subject in a political light. Those are an enter- 
 prising, moneyed people; they will be serviceable in 
 taking off the surplus produce of our lands, and sup- 
 plying us with necessaries during the infant state of 
 our manufactures. Even if they be inimical to us 
 in point of feeling and principle, I can see no objec- 
 tion, in a political view, to making them tributary to 
 our advantage. And as I have no prejudices to pre- 
 
PATRICK HENRY 12 3 
 
 vent my making this use of them, so, Sir, I have no 
 fear of any mischief that they can do us. Afraid of 
 them! What, Sir, shall we, who have laid the proud 
 British liofi at our feet, now be afraid of his zvhelpsf 
 
 The concluding phrase is not, perhaps, entitled, as 
 a specimen of rhetoric, to all the praise that has been 
 bestowed upon it; but it is impossible to speak too 
 favorably of the substance of the speech. The liber- 
 ality of our institutions, and especially the generous 
 and truly wise policy which throws open our vacant 
 territory, at a merely nominal price, to all who choose 
 to occupy it, are working out the results predicted by 
 Heni-y with a rapidity which even his ardent imagi- 
 nation could hardly have anticipated. 
 
 In the same liberal spirit, he supported and carried, 
 against vigorous opposition, a proposal for removing 
 the restraints on British commerce. It was appre- 
 hended by some that a free admission of British ships 
 would exclude the trade of all other nations, and de- 
 prive us of the advantage of competition in reducing 
 the price of our supplies from abroad. Henry re- 
 pelled this objection with splendid eloquence; en- 
 larged on the distress which the people had suffered 
 by the interruption of foreign commerce; and con- 
 cluded with proclaiming in emphatic language the 
 doctrine of the liberty of trade, less familiar to the 
 public ear at that time than it is now. " Why should 
 we fetter commerce?" was his concluding remark; 
 '' a man in chains droops and bows to the earth ; his 
 spirits are broken ; but let him twist the fetters from 
 his legs, and he will stand upright. Fetter not Com- 
 merce, Sir ; let her be as free as air. She will range 
 
124 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 the whole creation, and return on the wings of the 
 four winds of heaven to bless the land with plenty." 
 
 During the session of 1784, Henry proposed in 
 the Assembly a measure marked by the same origi- 
 nality of thought and humanity of feeling, which 
 dictated the others, but somewhat questionable, per- 
 haps, on the score of practicability and expediency. 
 The inconvenience which had been suffered, during 
 the last and preceding wars, from the aggressions of 
 the neighboring Indians appeared to render it a mat- 
 ter of high importance to inspire them in some way 
 with more amicable sentiments. Formal treaties of 
 peace and alliance were known to be wholly inef- 
 fectual. Henry proposed to effect the object by a law 
 to encourage intermarriage between the two races, 
 and brought in a bill holding out strong inducements 
 to the formation of connections of this kind, such as 
 a pecuniary bounty, to be repeated at the birth of 
 every child, exemption from taxes, and the free use 
 of an institution for education, to be established for 
 the purpose at the expense of the State. 
 
 The bill had its first and second reading, and was 
 engrossed for its final passage, apparently under the 
 influence of Henry's support; for no sooner was he 
 withdrawn from the House, by his election as Gov- 
 ernor for a second term, which took place at this 
 time, than the bill, on coming up for a third reading, 
 was rejected. Had the relative numbers and posi- 
 tion of the two races been destined to remain as 
 they were at this time, such a measure might have 
 had a good effect, although the popular feeling, 
 which has always been opposed to a mixture of races, 
 
PATRICK HENRY 12$ 
 
 would have probably rendered it ineffectual. But the 
 overwhelming and constantly increasing preponder- 
 ance of the whites in power and numbers pretty soon 
 settled the question in a different way, by compelling 
 the red men to retire from the frontiers of Virginia 
 and seek for new hunting grounds in the Far West. 
 
 Among the measures supported, though not pro- 
 posed, by Henry, was a resolution for the incorpora- 
 tion of all Christian societies which might make ap- 
 plication to that effect, and another imposing a gen- 
 eral assessment for the support of pubHc worship, 
 but leaving it to the discretion of the individual to 
 appropriate the tax levied upon him to any church 
 which he might prefer. The bills founded upon these 
 resolutions were reported after Henry had ceased to 
 be a member of the House; but the principles em- 
 bodied in them had received his warm support in the 
 introductory stage. The bill founded on the first of 
 the two resolutions became a law ; the other was re- 
 jected by a small majority on the third reading. 
 
 On the 4th of December, 1786, soon after his final 
 retirement from the chief magistracy of his State, 
 Henry was elected by the legislature one of the dele- 
 gates to the Convention for revising the Articles of 
 Confederation among the States. His name stood 
 upon the list, as recorded in the journal, next after 
 that of Washington. The same imperious considera- 
 tion which had compelled him to decline reelection 
 as Governor, the urgent necessity of attending to his 
 private affairs, also imposed it upon him as a duty to 
 refrain from the acceptance of this high and honor- 
 able commission, the full importance of which was 
 
126 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 not, however, so distinctly perceived at the time as 
 it is now. After the national Convention, which met 
 the following year at Philadelphia, had terminated 
 their labors, and submitted the result to the people, 
 a State Convention was called in Virginia, to take 
 the proposed Constitution into consideration. Henry 
 was elected by the county of Prince Edward, where 
 he then resided, a member of this body, which met at 
 Richmond on the 2d of June, 1788. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 Virginia Convention for considering the Plan of the Federal 
 Constitution. — Henry opposes its Adoption. 
 
 In following the progress of Henry through his 
 long political career up to the point which we have 
 now reached, we have more than once seen him act- 
 ing upon his own views, in direct opposition to those 
 of the most distinguished and patriotic of his fellow- 
 laborers, in the common cause of Independence and 
 Liberty. On all these occasions he had the satisfac- 
 tion of finding his course sanctioned, after a short 
 interval, by the almost unanimous approbation of his 
 fellow-citizens ; and the public opinion of the country 
 seems to have settled down in the conviction that the 
 bold, vigorous, and, as it may have appeared to some 
 at the time, violent policy, which he recommended 
 and acted on, was the one best fitted to effect the 
 common purpose. 
 
 In regard to the course which he pursued in the 
 Convention for considering the plan of the Federal 
 Constitution, he did not enjoy the same good-fortune. 
 He appeared in that Assembly as a determined oppo- 
 nent of the adoption of the plan, and maintained his 
 views throughout the whole discussion with his char- 
 acteristic ardor, perseverance, and power of logic and 
 eloquence. Taking the whole country through, he 
 was by far the most distinguished and conspicuous 
 
 127 
 
128 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 person who opposed the new system. The great 
 prosperity which the country has enjoyed for a cen- 
 tury in succession under this system, and which is 
 justly attributed in no small degree to its beneficial 
 influence, has long since stamped the Constitution 
 with the seal of general favor. It is now a matter of 
 surprise and regret to find that any one, and espe- 
 cially one so renowned as Henry for talent, patriot- 
 ism, and eloquence, should have failed to perceive 
 what has since become so apparent to all, and should 
 have labored with so much earnestness to prevent the 
 adoption of a system that has proved, in practice, the 
 salvation of the country. We are half tempted to 
 doubt whether the opponents of the Constitution 
 acted with correct intentions and purely patriotic 
 feelings, in resisting a measure which appears to us, 
 at the present day, so clearly and manifestly right, 
 and to attribute their course to perversity and selfish- 
 ness, rather than to the lofty and patriotic motives 
 upon which it was at the time justified by themselves. 
 We must recollect, however, in forming an opinion 
 upon their conduct, that the Constitution presented 
 itself to their minds under a very different aspect 
 from that in which it now appears to us. It came 
 before the State Conventions, no doubt, under cir- 
 cumstances, in some respects, of the most auspicious 
 character. It was offered as the result of the long 
 and anxious deliberations of a most respectable as- 
 sembly; it bore the signature of Washington. But 
 there were other considerations connected with it of 
 a different kind. It was known that the Convention 
 had been greatly divided in opinion, and that the 
 
PATRICK HENRY 1 29 
 
 most important provisions in the Constitution had 
 been sanctioned by the smallest possible majorities, 
 after the most intense and bitter opposition. The 
 plan was untried, and patriotism imperiously re- 
 quired that an untried system, involving a complete 
 revolution in the government, should be examined 
 with extreme jealousy. This appeared the more 
 necessary, as the Convention, in framing a new gov- 
 ernment, instead of merely amending the existing 
 one, had in some degree exceeded its formal powers. 
 The system presented, in its most conspicuous, if 
 not most important, features, particularly that of a 
 single executive magistrate, forms repugnant to the 
 cherished and habitual feelings of the people. These 
 feelings were, of course, not diminished, in the pres- 
 ent instance, by the knowledge, that the prominent 
 friends of the Constitution had urged with great 
 earnestness in the Convention the adoption of the 
 provisions in a much more obnoxious shape. If the 
 tendency of the system, as it stood, was considered 
 doubtful, the fact that its ablest supporters in the 
 Convention declared the British Constitution, espe- 
 cially in the executive branch, to be the model of a 
 good government, might well justify the suspicion 
 that the new project had, as Henry remarked, an 
 '' awful squinting towards monarchy." It may even 
 be doubted whether the views of the opponents of the 
 plan were not, on some points, more correct than 
 those of its supporters, and whether the immense 
 amount of good, which has resulted from the adop- 
 tion of the Constitution, may not have been the effect 
 of its great leading principles, operating in spite, 
 
 A. B., VOL. III. — q 
 
I30 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 rather than by the aid, of some provisions, which 
 were considered at the time, both by friends and op- 
 ponents, as more important than they really were, 
 and which, so far as they have operated, have been 
 of injurious rather than beneficial tendency. On the 
 whole, it not only seems unnecessary to attribute the 
 action of the opponents of the Constitution to per- 
 versity or selfish views, but it may even be doubted 
 whether the course pursued by them was not the one 
 which would most naturally recommend itself to an 
 ardent and uncompromising friend of popular princi- 
 ples of government. 
 
 The point upon which the debates in the General 
 Convention chiefly turned was the question, whether 
 the States should possess an equal vote in Congress, 
 as had been the case under the old confederacy, or a 
 number of votes proportional in each case to their 
 comparative population. The Virginia plan, as it 
 was called, which had been proposed by Governor 
 Randolph, was supported with great power by Mr. 
 Madison, who recommended the latter course. The 
 former was the leading feature in the New Jersey 
 plan, proposed by Mr. Paterson. After protracted 
 and warm debate, the point was finally compromised 
 by granting to the States an equal vote in the Senate, 
 and a proportional one in the House of Representa- 
 tives. This arrangement was not satisfactory at the 
 time to the ardent supporters of either principle. 
 
 Some of the most prominent champions of the 
 New Jersey scheme actually quitted the Convention 
 and returned home after it was agreed upon, under 
 the impression that the rights of the States had been 
 
PATRICK HENRY I3I 
 
 abandoned, that the compromise could never be 
 sanctioned by them, and that there could be no ad- 
 vantage in taking any further part in the proceed- 
 ings. On the other hand, the most active friends of 
 the Virginia model were equally dissatisfied, though 
 for a directly opposite reason. Governor Randolph 
 refused to affix his name to his own plan as amended, 
 and Mr. Madison, its principal champion, although 
 he consented to sign it, declared, and has recorded 
 the opinion in his report of the debates, that he con- 
 sidered it as completely vitiated by the introduction 
 of the equal vote of the States in the Senate, which 
 would, as he thought, inevitably perpetuate in the 
 new system the essential vices of the old confederacy. 
 But, though the prominent supporters of the Vir- 
 ginia scheme in the Convention were wholly discon- 
 tented with the result, they were generally consid- 
 ered, by the people at large of all parties, as having 
 substantially carried their point, and given to the 
 General Government a great increase of strength, as 
 compared with that which it possessed under the 
 confederacy. The experience of now a century has 
 confirmed the correctness of this view of the subject. 
 The equal vote of the States in the Senate has not 
 thus far proved to be of any practical importance for 
 the purpose which led to its introduction. All the 
 struggles that have taken place in Congress, includ- 
 ing even those in which the respective pretensions of 
 the States and the General Government were directly 
 at issue, have been decided by comparison of the 
 strength of great parties pervading the whole Union, 
 as represented in both branches of Congress, and not 
 
132 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 by the votes of the States, as represented on a foot- 
 ing of equaHty in the Senate ; while the whole history 
 of the country, before and since the adoption of the 
 Constitution, proves beyond a shadow of doubt that 
 the power of the General Government, under the 
 present system, is much greater than it was under 
 the confederacy. The difference is, in fact, nearly 
 equivalent to that between a government sufficiently 
 powerful for every desirable purpose and no govern- 
 ment at all. 
 
 In accordance with tne impression which prevailed 
 at the time, and has thus been confirmed by experi- 
 ence, respecting the substantial character of the plan 
 proposed by the Convention, it received, in general, 
 when submitted to the people, the support of those 
 who favored the Virginia system, and the idea of 
 strengthening the General Government. Even the 
 prominent champions of the Virginia scheme in the 
 Convention who had strongly expressed their dis- 
 satisfaction with it as amended by that body, seem, 
 on full consideration, to have taken a more favorable 
 view of the result. Governor Randolph, who had 
 refused to sign the plan as adopted, and Mr. Madi- 
 son, who declared that he considered the original 
 Virginia scheme as entirely vitiated by the amend- 
 ments, were the two most active and prominent sup- 
 porters of the Constitution in the Virginia Conven- 
 tion. Even Hamilton, who had said, in the Federal 
 Convention that he thought both the plans proposed 
 entirely worthless from their inefficiency, and re- 
 garded the British Constitution as the model of a 
 good government, appeared in the New York State 
 
PATRICK HENRY 
 
 133 
 
 Convention as the leading champion of the plan, and 
 labored, through the press, with his characteristic 
 talent and energy, in concurrence with Madison and 
 Jay, in recommending it to the people. On the other 
 hand, the opposition to the plan in the State Conven- 
 tions was generally led by the members of the Gen- 
 eral Convention, who had sustained in that body the 
 pretensions of the States, and looked with apprehen- 
 sion on any decided augmentation of the power of 
 the Union. 
 
 Patrick Henry, as was stated in the last chapter, 
 had been appointed a delegate from Virginia to the 
 General Convention, but, from prudential motives, 
 had declined to accept the trust. He was, therefore, 
 not personally committed to either of the parties 
 which had been formed in that body ; but there were 
 several circumstances in his character and position 
 which naturally led him to sympathize in opinion and 
 feeling with the partisans of the States. His native 
 Commonwealth was, at that time, by far the most im- 
 portant member of the Union. Any increase of the 
 power of the General Government, as compared with 
 that of the States, operated, of course, more directly 
 upon Virginia than upon any of her sisters. While 
 several of the prominent Virginia statesmen, such as 
 Washington, Madison, Randolph, Marshall, and 
 others, overcame, by considerations of a more general 
 character, the force of this local feeling, it was not 
 unnatural that others, and especially those whose 
 political career had identified their personal impor- 
 tance very closely with that of their own State, 
 should look at the whole question chiefly in reference 
 
134 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 to the manner in which it affected State interests, 
 and, finding its operation in this respect unfavora- 
 ble to Virginia, should, for this reason only, decide 
 against it 
 
 This was preeminently the case with Henry. He 
 had been, through the most active period of his life, 
 the most prominent citizen in the Old Dominion, had 
 occupied her highest places of trust and honor, both 
 civil and military, and had imparted to them, by his 
 splendid eloquence, a consideration which, as mere 
 official employments, they would not otherwise have 
 had. On the other hand, he had taken little or no 
 part in the administration of the General Govern- 
 ment ; had not particularly distinguished himself as a 
 member of Congress, and had no reason to consider 
 his personal importance or reputation as immediately 
 involved in the turn that might be taken by the 
 affairs of the Union. 
 
 It may be added that, while he was thus naturally 
 led by his personal associations and previous career, 
 to favor the importance of the States, rather than 
 that of the General Government, he was also strongly 
 disposed, by his peculiar views, to look with disap- 
 probation upon any attempt to enlarge, in any way, 
 the attributes of government, whether State or Gen- 
 eral, at the expense of the rights of the people. He 
 had professed and acted on through life, very often 
 under dif^cult circumstances, and with painful sacri- 
 fices of personal comfort, the most decidedly repub- 
 lican principles of government, had constituted him- 
 self, in his own State, a sort of tribune of the people 
 and protector of their rights against the influence of 
 
PATRICK HENRY 1 35 
 
 a wealthy aristocracy, and was prooably the most 
 determined repubUcan, as well as the most zealous 
 State-rights man in the country. There was, there- 
 fore, in his case, a remarkable concurrence of all the 
 circumstances that could well be expected to operate 
 in producing in the mind of any individual a disposi- 
 tion, independently of the actual merits of the case, 
 to oppose the new plan. Those who reflect upon the 
 immense influence of accidental circumstances on the 
 will and judgment, who recollect how large a por- 
 tion of their own opinions on the most important 
 subjects have been mainly determined by causes sub- 
 stantially of this character, will not be surprised, 
 however strong their conviction may be of the essen- 
 tial excellence of the Federal Constitution, that a 
 patriot so pure, intelligent, and sagacious as Henry, 
 should have been found at the time of its adoption 
 among its most active opponents. 
 
 It is, therefore, unnecessary to suppose, as some 
 have done, that Henry, and the other prominent op- 
 ponents of the Constitution, were actuated by per- 
 sonal or selfish motives. We may even go farther 
 and admit that there was not only great plausibility, 
 but much actual truth, in some of their views. How- 
 ever beneficial may have been the operation of the 
 Federal Constitution as a whole, it is not to be dis- 
 guised, that, under some of its aspects, its tendency 
 is different. This remark is made with particular 
 allusion to the provision for the chief executive mag- 
 istracy, which may, perhaps, be considered, with pro- 
 priety, as the weak point in the Constitution. 
 
 Our governments, both State and National, 
 
136 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 viewed under one of these aspects, belong to the class 
 of elective monarchies; and, although the shortness 
 of the term for which our rulers are elected, and the 
 limited extent of the powers intrusted to them, abate 
 very much the agitation naturally incident to this 
 form of polity, experience has already shown that 
 the difficulty is by no means entirely overcome. By 
 throwing into the lottery of political life the glitter- 
 ing prize of the presidency, we have greatly aug- 
 mented the intensity and eagerness of the struggle 
 for official distinction. If the constitution of the 
 executive department in this particular form were 
 indispensable to the successful action of the govern- 
 ment, or attended with advantages sufficient to 
 counterbalance the evils resulting from it, we should, 
 of course, accept the latter with cheerfulness, as the 
 natural price which we must pay for the former ; but 
 this does not seem to be the case. The importance 
 attached, in public opinion, to the office of president, 
 is wholly disproportionate to the nature of the politi- 
 cal functions connected with it, which are chiefly 
 matters of mere routine. 
 
 The constant agitation, which is kept up through- 
 out the country by the struggle for this office, and 
 the great increase of intensity which it gives to party 
 divisions, are, therefore, a clear injury, without any 
 corresponding benefit. If the inconveniences, which 
 we have thus far experienced, be the worst that are 
 likely to result from the existing system, we might 
 endure them with the less reluctance, since, consid- 
 erable as they in fact are, they are yet trifling when 
 compared with the terrible oppressions incident to 
 
PATRICK HENRY 1 37 
 
 the differently constituted governments of the Old 
 World. But there is no small ground for apprehen- 
 sion that, as the country advances in wealth and 
 population, the inconveniences alluded to may as- 
 sume a more malignant character than they have 
 hitherto worn. If our institutions are destined, as 
 many suppose, to a premature and violent termina- 
 tion, it can hardly be doubted that the struggle for 
 the presidency will be the immediate occasion of the 
 convulsions by which it will be brought about. With- 
 out giving way to gloomy forebodings of contingent, 
 perhaps on the whole improbable, results, and assum- 
 ing that the good sense of the people will be com- 
 petent to correct, by amendment of the Constitution, 
 any error that may become apparent, it is yet certain 
 that if the unfortunate result alluded to should hap- 
 pen, we shall have sacrificed the solidity and perma- 
 nence of our government for a bawble of no essential 
 value. 
 
 It is somewhat remarkable tnat the mconveniences 
 and dangers incident to the nature of elective mon- 
 archies, even in their most qualified and limited form, 
 do not seem to have occurred to the minds of the 
 members of the Federal Convention, while deliberat- 
 ing upon this part of the Constitution. Their atten- 
 tion was so entirely absorbed by the question of the 
 relative influence of the States in Congress, that they 
 felt comparatively little interest in the executive de- 
 partment, and continued almost mechanically the 
 form in use under the colonial system, without 
 reflecting that the administration of a subject 
 province under the orders of a metropolitan govern- 
 
138 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 ment, and the chief magistracy of an independent 
 State, are functions of an entirely different character, 
 and should be provided for on directly opposite prin- 
 ciples. The sagacious mind of Henry, predisposed 
 as it was, for the reasons above specified, to take an 
 unfavorable view of the plan of the Convention, 
 seized at once upon the weak point in the Constitu- 
 tion as the principal object of attack. 
 
 The overwhelming power of the president, and its 
 fatal influence upon the independence of the States 
 and the liberty of the people, are the leading topics 
 of his numerous and frequently powerful speeches in 
 the Virginia Convention. There is, doubtless, some, 
 perhaps we may say much, exaggeration in these 
 views; but the experience of a century has tended, 
 on the whole, to confirm rather than refute them. 
 Of the parties that have subsequently been formed in 
 the country, those which represent most directly the 
 friends of the Constitution at the period of the adop- 
 tion, have not been, by any means, the least con- 
 spicuous in denouncing as a great evil the undue im- 
 portance that is attributed, in our system, to the chief 
 executive magistracy. It remains to be seen whether 
 the evil can be cured by the quiet process of amend- 
 ment, or whether, if it be too deeply implanted in 
 this system to admit of that remedy, it will be kept 
 hereafter, as it has hitherto been, in practical subor- 
 dination by the sounder and better parts of the sys- 
 tem, or will finally assume new degrees of malignity, 
 and exercise upon the whole form of the government 
 the fatal and destructive influence which the patriotic 
 fears of Henry had led him to anticipate. 
 
PATRICK HENRY 1 39 
 
 It will not be necessary here to analyze accurately 
 all the speeches made by Henry in the Virginia Con- 
 vention. They are very numerous, and occupy no 
 inconsiderable portion of the volume of debates. It 
 may be proper, however, to cast a rapid glance over 
 the course of the proceedings, and to indicate briefly 
 the part taken_byJiinTMqn the diffe^^^^ that 
 
 successively came under discussion. 
 
 The Convention met at Richmond, on the 2d of 
 June, 1788. From the great importance of the State 
 of Virginia in the Union, and the care with which 
 the members of the Convention had been selected, it 
 was an assembly hardly less imposing than the Fed- 
 eral Convention itself. Eight States had already 
 ratified the Constitution. Five were yet to pass upon 
 it. By the terms of the instrument, the consent of 
 one more would make it binding on the ratifying 
 States. It may well be doubted, however, whether, 
 without the ratification of Virginia, it could have 
 gone into successful operation. Independently of 
 other considerations, Virginia was the residence of 
 Washington; and there can be no question that the 
 anticipation of his election as the first President was 
 an essential and indispensable requisite to the prac- 
 tical adoption of the Constitution. The proceedings 
 of the Virginia Convention were therefore watched 
 with intense interest throughout the country, and the 
 results of its deliberations looked for with extreme 
 anxiety, both by the friends and enemies of the new 
 system, as decisive on the main question by its ulti- 
 mate adoption or rejection. 
 
 The Convention was organized by the election of 
 
I40 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 Mr. Pendleton as chairman. On the 4th of June, 
 the debate commenced ; as a preHminary step, a reso- 
 lution had been passed that no questions should be 
 taken upon any particular clause in the Constitution 
 before the whole instrument had undergone a full 
 discussion. From the 4th to the 13th of June, the 
 debate was carried on upon the instrument at large. 
 On the 15th, the consideration of the separate clauses 
 began, and it was continued until the 24th. On the 
 25th, the general discussion was renewed; and, on 
 the 26th, it was closed by the adoption of the Con- 
 stitution. In the debate of the 25th, Henry had pro- 
 posed a bill of rights and a series of amendments, the 
 adoption of which by the other States was to be 
 made a condition of the ratification of the Constitu- 
 tion by Virginia. The proposition, as made by him, 
 was rejected, and the Constitution adopted without 
 condition; but, immediately after the vote for the 
 ratification, a committee was raised to report a bill 
 of rights and a series of amendments, to be submitted 
 to the other States in the form prescribed by the 
 Constitution. On the 27th, the committee reported 
 the bill of rights and amendments proposed by 
 Henry, and their report was accepted. This pro- 
 ceeding was the last act of the Convention. 
 
 The debates in this assembly were more fully and 
 ably reported than those of any of the other State 
 Conventions, and fill an octavo volume of nearly five 
 hundred closely-printed pages, a volume second only 
 in value for the student of constitutional law to the 
 inestimable report of the debates in the Federal Con- 
 vention by Madison. The discussions of the first 
 
PATRICK HENRY 14I 
 
 thirteen days are particularly interesting. They 
 were managed chiefly by Nicholas, Pendleton, Ran- 
 dolph, Marshall, and Madison, in favor of the adop- 
 tion, and by Henry, George Mason, Monroe, and 
 Grayson, against it. All these persons were men of 
 the highest order of talent, but the real champions 
 and leaders of the two parties were Henry and Madi- 
 son. No two men could be more unlike in their in- 
 tellectual constitution, and each possessed qualities 
 in which he was decidedly superior to the other. 
 Henry excelled his opponent, perhaps, in original 
 power of mind, certainly in brilliancy of imagination 
 and splendor of natural eloquence. He had also the 
 advantage that belongs to greater experience; the 
 habit of success, and a name endeared to the people 
 by association with a long career of public service 
 and the highest political and military employments. 
 In calm good sense, instinctive sagacity, extent of 
 information, and clearness of reasoning, he was sur- 
 passed by his comparatively youthful rival. 
 
 The qualities in which Henry excelled are un- 
 doubtedly those that are most likely to produce effect 
 on a popular assembly. It is, therefore, highly cred- 
 itable to the general intelligence of the Virginia Con- 
 vention that they manfully withstood his overwhelm- 
 ing eloquence, backed as it was by the almost irre- 
 sistible charm attached to his name and character, 
 and yielded their assent to the cool and clear logic of 
 Madison. In accounting for this result, we must 
 doubtless take into view the array of able coadjutors 
 by whom Madison was supported in the Convention, 
 including even Marshall, who, though he said but 
 
142 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 little, whenever he did speak always spoke to the 
 point with unrivalled power ; the example of the other 
 States, where the Constitution had already been 
 adopted ; and, above all, the general reverence for the 
 character of Washington, who stood behind the cur- 
 tain as a sort of guardian genius of the precious in- 
 strument that bore his signature, unseen, unheard, 
 but exercising a moral power that was deeply felt by 
 every one. But, after making all the necessary al- 
 lowance for these circumstances, it cannot well be 
 questioned that the influence of Madison, through 
 his talents, character, and persevering exertions, was 
 the immediate cause, in the Virginia Convention, as 
 it had been before in the general one, of the adoption 
 of the Constitution. To him belongs the transcen- 
 dent honor of having first supported, and subsequent- 
 ly sustained and carried through, by means of his 
 own personal influence, at every subsequent stage of 
 its progress, this great charter of our country's pros- 
 perity and freedom. We may search in vain the long 
 rolls of history for a higher title to civil and political 
 distinction. 
 
 A more particular, though, of course, very cursory, 
 survey of the progress of the debate will show more 
 distinctly how large and important was the part 
 taken in it by the subject of our narrative. After the 
 preliminary proceedings had been terminated, the 
 debate was opened by Henry, who moved for '' the 
 reading of the Act of Assembly appointing deputies 
 to meet at i\nnapolis, to consult with those of other 
 States on the situation of the commerce of the United 
 States, the Act of Assembly appointing deputies to 
 
PATRICK HENRY 1 43 
 
 meet at Philadelphia to revise the Articles of Con- 
 federation, and other public papers relative thereto." 
 The purpose of Henry, in making this motion, was, 
 of course, to introduce the formidable, and certainly 
 not entirely ill-founded objection, that the Federal 
 Convention, in forming a new system, instead of 
 merely revising the old one, had exceeded its powers. 
 The idea was, however, not insisted on, and, after a 
 few remarks by Mr. Pendleton in opposition to it, 
 the motion of Henry was withdrawn. The facility 
 with w^hich this preliminary objection, perhaps the 
 strongest of a positive kind that could be brought 
 against the Constitution, was yielded by its most de- 
 termined and vigorous antagonist, shows already 
 that the moral forces which were operating indirectly 
 in favor of it had sapped the strength of opposition 
 even before the debate commenced, and afforded a 
 pregnant indication of the probable issue. 
 
 This difficulty having been overcome, the discus- 
 sion commenced with a speech from Mr. Nicholas, 
 in which he recapitulated, in a forcible manner, and 
 somewhat at large, the principal arguments in favor 
 of the adoption of the plan. He was followed by 
 Henry in a short speech, in which, describing the 
 proposition of the new plan to be, as it really was, a 
 proposition to effect a revolution in the General Gov- 
 ernment, he calls upon its friends to show cause for 
 so extraordinary a proceeding. The country is, to 
 all outward appearance, tranquil and prosperous. 
 In such a state of things, what reasonable motive 
 can be alleged for proceeding to this desperate ex- 
 tremity, which, by general acknowledgment, can 
 
144 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 only be justified by the existence of mis-government 
 and oppression in their worst and most intolerable 
 form? In the tenor of this inquiry we find a sec- 
 ond evidence of the care with which Henry had 
 surveyed the whole ground, and the skill with which 
 he had selected the positions that he intended suc- 
 cessively to occupy. The General Convention had 
 exceeded its powers. This is the first objection, and 
 is in the nature of a plea to the jurisdiction of the 
 court at law. This being waived, a second objec- 
 tion, still preliminary, but of a more substantial char- 
 acter, presents itself. The country is tranquil and 
 prosperous ; the people are happ}^ Under such cir- 
 cumstances, it seems like political insanity to propose 
 an entire revolution in the government. 
 
 The friends of the Constitution did not meet these 
 objections' with any very precise or elaborate reply. 
 They probably deemed it a more politic plan of cam- 
 paign to reserve their main strength till the positive 
 objections had been stated, rather than to assume the 
 burden of proof, and undertake to show by argument 
 the necessity of a change. Governor Randolph 
 made a short and not very powerful answer to the 
 speech of Henry. He was followed by George Ma- 
 son, in a speech against the plan, after which Mr. 
 Madison made a few remarks, which closed the pro- 
 ceedings of the first day of the debates. On the day 
 following, the discussion was continued by Messrs. 
 Pendleton and Lee, in reply to Henry; but it was 
 now apparent that it was not the intention of the 
 friends of the plan to meet the question upon this 
 ground. Perceiving this, Henry proceeded to un- 
 
PATRICK HENRY I45 
 
 mask his main battery, and occupied the remainder 
 of the second day by a long and powerful speech, 
 in which he presented in detail the positive objec- 
 tions. It is, of course, impossible to state them fully 
 in this connection, and the general outline of the 
 argument is familiar to most readers of political his- 
 tory. The leading topics of the speech, as of all 
 those which were made by Henry during the dis- 
 cussion, were the danger of consolidation, and the 
 overwhelming power of the executive. 
 
 The speech is badly reported, and in two or three 
 of the most important parts is avowedly imperfect. 
 It probably gives a very inadequate representation of 
 the language of the orator, to say nothing of his 
 looks, tones, and gestures, everything, in short, that 
 is embraced under the significant and comprehensive 
 term action. It contains, however, even in the shape 
 in which we have it, many brilliant and powerful 
 passages, one of them containing the celebrated and 
 often quoted phrase, in which the speaker denounces 
 the plan as deformed by " an awful squinting to- 
 wards monarchy." It is easy to conceive, that, as 
 delivered by the orator himself, it must have pro- 
 duced a prodigious effect upon the assembly. 
 
 The system of attack contemplated by the oppo- 
 nents of the plan was now fully developed. They 
 had been compelled by the prudent management of 
 its friends to assume the offensive, and leave to the 
 latter the comparatively easy task of answering posi- 
 tive objections. It was now necessary to take the 
 field in reply, in full force, under the direction of the 
 ablest champions. The two following days, the 6th 
 
 A. B., VOL. III. — 10 
 
146 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 and 7th of June, were accordingly occupied by long 
 and elaborate speeches from Randolph, Nicholas, 
 Corbin, and Madison, in which they successively 
 surveyed the whole ground taken by Henry, and pre- 
 sented, under every variety of form and color, the 
 most plausible answers that could be made to his 
 objections. At the close of the debate of the 7th, 
 Henry commenced, and continued through the 
 greater part of that of the 8th another long and 
 powerful speech in rejoinder; and was again an- 
 swered at great length on the same and the next 
 following day, by Governor Randolph. After this 
 the discussion was kept up with undaunted spirit, 
 though in a somewhat less regular form, by the 
 principal speakers on both sides, until the 15th, when 
 it was at length brought to a close. The discussion 
 of the separate articles which occupied the interval 
 between this date and the 23d, was necessarily of a 
 more desultory character, and would not admit of a 
 precise analysis. The debates on the judiciary, 
 which occupied the 20th and 21st, were particularly 
 interesting. 
 
 On the 24th, the general discussion was renewed, 
 and Henry now made his final effort, founding his 
 proposition of a ratification on the condition of the 
 acceptance by the other States of a bill of rights and 
 a series of amendments. At the close of this speech, 
 a scene occurred which affords a good example of 
 the manner in which the poetical element has blended 
 itself with the simple truth in the accounts handed 
 down to us of Henry's speeches and life. In the 
 closing passages of his speech, while descanting on 
 
PATRICK HENRY I47 
 
 the immense importance of the question at issue, 
 Henry appealed to the beings of a superior order! 
 who might be supposed to survey from their celestial 
 abodes with deep interest the progress of a struggle 
 involving the future fortunes of half mankind. " To 
 those beings/' says Mr. Wirt, on the authority of 
 Judge Archibald Stuart, who was a member of the 
 Convention and present at the debate, " to those be- 
 ings he had addressed an invocation with a most 
 thrilling look and action that made every nerve 
 shudder with supernatural horror, when, lo ! a storm 
 at that instant arose, which shook the whole build- 
 ing and the spirits whom he had called seemed to 
 have come at his bidding. Nor did his eloquence 
 or the storm immediately cease. Availing himself 
 of the incident with a master's art, he seemed to mix 
 in the fight of his ethereal auxiliaries, and, ' rising 
 on the wings of the tempest, to seize upon the artil- 
 lery of heaven and direct its fiercest thunders against 
 the heads of his adversaries.' The scene became in- 
 supportable, and the House rose without the for- 
 mahty of adjournment, the members rushing from 
 their seats with precipitation and confusion." 
 
 The reporter presents the passage in the speech of 
 Henry here alluded to in the following form : 
 
 " The honorable gentleman tells you of important 
 blessings, which he imagines will result to us and to 
 mankind in general from the adoption of this sys- 
 tem. As for me, I can only see the awful immensity 
 of the dangers with which it is pregnant. I see it. 
 I feel it. I see beings of a higher order anxious 
 concerning our decision. I extend my view beyond 
 
148 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 the horizon that Hmits human vision and behold 
 those superior intelhgences anticipating the poHtical 
 revolutions which in process of time may take place 
 in America, and the consequent happiness or misery 
 of mankind. I am led to believe that much of the 
 account on one side or the other will depend on 
 what we now decide. Our own happiness alone is 
 not affected by the event. All nations are interested 
 in the determination. We have it in our own power 
 to secure the happiness of one half of the human 
 race. Its adoption may involve the misery of the 
 other hemisphere." 
 
 '* Here," says the reporter, in a parenthesis, a 
 violent storm arose, which put the House in such 
 disorder that Mr. Henry was obliged to conclude." 
 
 Mr. Wirt remarks, in a note, that, " by comparing 
 the statement of Judge Stuart with this passage in 
 the printed debates, the reader may decide how far 
 these may be relied on as specimens of Mr. Henry's 
 eloquence." The passage as reported certainly car- 
 ries internal evidence of being a very feeble and in- 
 adequate transcript of the orator's language ; but we 
 suspect that the reporter's parenthesis will be 
 thought by most readers a much more natural and 
 plausible account of the reasons and manner of 
 adjournment than the glowing statement of the 
 learned judge. 
 
 The general discussion was continued on the 25th, 
 and two or three new speakers took, for the first 
 time, a prominent part in the debate ; Colonel Innis, 
 then attorney-general of the State, who seems to 
 have been a very remarkable orator, and whose elo- 
 
PATRICK HENRY I49 
 
 quence is characterized by Mr. Wirt, in his usual 
 florid style, as a " splendid conflagration," Judge 
 Tyler, and Zachariah Johnson. Randolph, Henry, 
 Madison, Monroe, and Grayson, mingled as usual 
 in the discussion. At the close of this day's debate, 
 the question was taken, and on the two following 
 days the proceedings of the Convention were 
 brought, in the manner that has been already men- 
 tioned, to a close. 
 
 Although the views of Henry were not adopted 
 by the Convention, he seems to have suffered no 
 diminution of his personal influence in consequence' 
 of the part which he took on this occasion. At the 
 session of the Assembly, which was held on the fol- 
 lowing October, he succeeded in preventing the elec- 
 tion of Mr. Madison to the Senate of the United 
 States, and in carrying that of Richard Henry Lee 
 and Mr. Grayson, the latter of whom had been in the 
 Convention an active opponent of the Constitution. 
 At the same session, he moved a resolution request- 
 ing Congress to call another General Convention, for 
 the purpose of amending the instrument as adopted. 
 A motion was made to amend this resolution by sub- 
 stituting another, inviting Congress to propose to 
 the States, in the constitutional way, the bill of rights 
 and series of amendments proposed by Henry, and 
 adopted at the Richmond Convention. This motion 
 was rejected, and the original proposal of Henry 
 was adopted by a triumphant majority of more than 
 two to one. 
 
 Thus terminated the action of Henry upon the 
 great reform effected in the government by the adop- 
 
150 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 tion of the Federal Constitution. While we render 
 the fullest justice to the correctness of his intentions, 
 and to the superiority of talent and eloquence with 
 which he supported his views in the Convention, we 
 may pronounce it without hesitation a most for- 
 tunate thing for the country that they did not pre- 
 vail. Still more fortunate will it be if the dangers 
 which he apprehended shall prove, in the sequel, to 
 have been imaginary, and not to have been ad- 
 journed for a time, only to burst upon us with 
 greater fury in proportion to the immense augmen- 
 tation which will have taken place in the interval in 
 the extent and population of the country. The 
 enemies of liberal constitutions abroad generally look 
 forward to the early occurrence among us of some 
 such catastrophe, and are sustained in their gloomy 
 forebodings by the opinions of many of our most 
 judicious and best informed citizens. Yet when we 
 find the superior liberality of our institutions, accom- 
 panied, as it thus far has been, by a corresponding 
 superiority in the intelligence, morality, and general 
 well-being of the people, we may venture, perhaps, 
 to regard such apprehensions as groundless, and to 
 consider the establishment of our republican empire 
 as the opening of a new and more auspicious chap- 
 ter in the historv of man. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 Retirement of Henry from political and professional Life. — 
 Domestic Occupations. — Death and Character. 
 
 The proceedings detailed in the preceding chapter 
 were the last of a political character in which Henry 
 was engaged. It is understood that, on the retire- 
 ment of Mr. Jefferson from the office of Secretary of 
 State, Henry was requested to take charge of that 
 department of the government; and it is rumored, 
 that, at a later period, during the administration of 
 John Adams, he was offered successively the ap- 
 pointments of Minister to France and to Spain. At 
 the close of the year 1796, he was elected by the 
 legislature Governor of the Commonwealth, but de- 
 clined the office. 
 
 He seems to have taken no very decided part in 
 the political controversies that grew up after the 
 adoption of the Federal Constitution, but favored 
 alternately the views of one or the other party, ac- 
 cording to his own private opinion of the merits of 
 the particular question upon which they were for the 
 time divided. He disapproved Mr. Jay's treaty with 
 Great Britain; but, after it had been ratified by the 
 Senate and become constitutionally the law of the 
 land, he deemed it the duty of every citizen to con- 
 cur in carrying it into effect in his appropriate sphere 
 of action, whether political or personal, and con- 
 
 151 
 
152 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 demned the course of those members of the House 
 of Representatives of the United States who endeav- 
 ored to prevent the appropriation necessary for this 
 purpose. He also pubHcly expressed his approba- 
 tion of the AHen and Sedition Laws, and his disap- 
 probation of the celebrated Kentucky and Virginia 
 resolutions. So strong was his apprehension of 
 danger to the public tranquillity from the policy 
 which dictated these resolutions that it induced him 
 to break the determination, which he had previously 
 formed, to take no further part in the public affairs ; 
 and, in the Spring of the year 1799, he presented 
 himself to the electors of Charlotte county in which 
 he resided as a candidate for the State Assembly. 
 
 Although his avowed object, in seeking an elec- 
 tion, was to oppose the views of a party which pre- 
 dominated throughout the State, his personal influ- 
 ence was so great that he was elected by his usual 
 commanding majority. After his election was 
 known, it was deemed by the republican leaders a 
 matter of so much importance that great exertions 
 were made to bring into the Assembly their most 
 distinguished advocates, for the purpose of neutraliz- 
 ing his influence. Giles, Taylor of Caroline, 
 Nicholas, and a number of younger men, conspicuous 
 for talent and eloquence, were deputed to the As- 
 sembly. Madison himself retired from Congress, 
 and accepted a place in the Virginia legislature for 
 the purpose of encountering the great champion on 
 his own ground. Had Henry taken his seat, it 
 would have been a singular spectacle to see these 
 distinguished men leading on, as before, their re- 
 
PATRICK HENRY I53 
 
 spective parties, but eadi, so far as party connec- 
 tions were concerned, occupying a position directly^ 
 opposite to that which he had held in the State Con- 
 vention. The repubhcan party had a large majority 
 in the Assembly, and it is altogether probable that 
 Henry would have found it as difficult to stem the 
 torrent of public opinion on this occasion as he had 
 on the preceding one; but the point was never 
 brought to a practical issue. A disease, under which 
 he had been suffering for two years, came to a crisis 
 about the time of his election to the Assembly, and 
 terminated fatally on the 6th of June, 1799. 
 
 At the new session of the Assembly, a member 
 of the Federal party moved the following resolution : 
 
 " The General Assembly of Virginia, as a tes- 
 timonial of their veneration for the character of 
 their late illustrious fellow-citizen, Patrick Henry, 
 whose unrivalled eloquence and superior talents were 
 in times of peculiar peril and distress so uniformly, 
 so powerfully and successfully, devoted to the cause 
 of freedom and of his country; and, in order to in- 
 cite the present and future generations to an imita- 
 tion of his virtues, and an emulation of his fame ; 
 
 " Resolve, That the Executive be authorized and 
 requested to procure a marble bust of the said Pat- 
 rick Henry, at the public expense, and to cause the 
 same to be placed in one of the niches of the hall of 
 the House of Delegates." 
 
 The reception, which this motion met with in the 
 Assembly affords a striking proof how completely, 
 at periods of high party excitement, a difference of 
 opinion on the current questions of the day is per- 
 
154 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 mitted to outweigh every consideration of a more 
 general character. The mover of the resolution, as 
 well as the illustrious subject of it, was regarded by 
 the majority, not merely as an opponent, but as an 
 apostate; and, although every member would have 
 doubtless concurred in the view taken of Henry's 
 general character, and in the propriety of the measure 
 recommended, the action on the resolutions was de- 
 termined by a strictly party vote. A member of the 
 majority moved to lay it on the table. The member 
 who offered it replied with warmth that, if it were 
 so disposed of, he would never call it up again. 
 The motion to lay on the table prevailed, and the 
 resolution was, in consequence, never acted on. 
 
 The charge of apostasy is habitually made in this 
 and other countries, against all who take a course, 
 in political or religious affairs, different from that 
 pursued by a party with which they have habitually 
 acted, and is generally intended to intimate a sus- 
 picion of corrupt or interested motives. In reality, 
 a difference of this kind does not, in all cases, sup- 
 pose even inconsistency in principle. The questions 
 upon which parties are divided are continually 
 changing ; and, with the few who form opinions for 
 themselves, it must be a matter of mere accident 
 whether, in reasoning upon a new state of things, 
 they come to the same conclusions which are drawn 
 by others with whom they had agreed before upon 
 a different subject. 
 
 In the present case, it might, perhaps, have ap- 
 peared more natural that Henry, who had opposed 
 the Federal Constitution, as tending too strongly to 
 
PATRICK HENRY . IS5 
 
 concentrate power in the government, should have 
 afterwards favored the strictest construction of that 
 instrument; while, on the other hand, it may be 
 thought singular that Madison, the great champion 
 of a vigorous general government in the Federal and 
 Virginia Conventions, should have insisted on the 
 construction more favorable to State-rights and in- 
 dividual liberty. But, after all, the questions of the 
 Alien and Sedition Laws, and of our relations with 
 France, which formed the principal topics of party 
 controversy at this period, were essentially different 
 from that of the adoption or rejection of the Federal 
 Constitution; and it is quite unnecessary, and of 
 course uncharitable and unjust, to suppose that 
 either of the two great Virginia statesmen was gov- 
 erned, in the course he pursued, by any other than 
 the purest and most patriotic motives. 
 
 This is now universally acknowledged in the case 
 of Mr. Madison, whose name and memory are 
 equally respected by all parties; and it is presumed 
 that the verdict of public opinion is not less favorable 
 in regard to Henry. In neither case could there be 
 the slightest pretence for the imputation of interested 
 views ; and both, in taking a course which necessarily 
 exposed them to a good deal of temporary obloquy, 
 evinced a moral courage in a high degree honorable 
 to their general characters. In a letter to his daugh- 
 ter, Mrs. Aylett, written in 1796, Henry repels the 
 idea of any change in his opinions upon the leading 
 principles of political philosophy, and gives his rea- 
 sons, founded on the merits of the particular cases, 
 for differing from his former associates upon the 
 
156 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 points then at issue. It is unnecessary, for the pres- 
 ent purpose, to pursue the subject in any further 
 detail. 
 
 After his retirement from political life, Henry 
 continued for several years the practice of his labori- 
 ous profession with undiminished reputation and 
 success. In the class of cases which require or ad- 
 mit the dignity of eloquence he stood, by general 
 acknowledgment, at the head of the bar, and though 
 less familiar with the technical learning of the law 
 than some others, yet, whenever the questions in- 
 volved were of sufficient interest to engage his atten- 
 tion, he qualified himself for the occasion and main- 
 tained his usual undisputed preeminence. The cele- 
 brated case* of the British debts, which he argued 
 twice for two or three days in succession, was, per- 
 haps, the most important in which he was engaged. 
 A report of his second argument is given, at great 
 length, by Mr. Wirt, from the notes of Robertson, 
 the reporter of the debates in the Virginia Conven- 
 tion ; and although, doubtless, (as every such report 
 must necessarily be,) a very imperfect copy of the 
 orator's language, it conveys the impression of the 
 highest order of forensic ability. In 1794, he finally 
 retired from professional life and, with the excep- 
 tion of the brief periods of political action already 
 alluded to, passed his remaining years in the bosom 
 of his family. 
 
 The steady pursuit of his profession, to which he 
 had of late devoted himself, had supplied him with a 
 competent fortune. By his two marriages he was 
 the father of fifteen children, eleven of whom, with 
 
PATRICK HENRY 1 57 
 
 his second wife, were living at his death. He thus 
 enjoyed the highest satisfaction that can belong to 
 the declining period of life in the society and affec- 
 tion of a numerous offspring. He retained, to the 
 last, the cheerful and sportive temperament which 
 formed, in youth, his most remai'kable characteristic. 
 He was frequently found by his visitors joining in 
 the games of his little grandchildren, and entrancing 
 them with the music of the same violin which had so 
 often in his early days seduced him from the graver 
 occupations of the counting-room. His love of con- 
 versation and society had always been intense; and 
 being now relieved from care and business of every 
 kind he gave himself up without restraint to this 
 cherished passion. He was always surrounded by a 
 circle of family connections and neighbors, including 
 a constant succession of strangers from other States 
 and foreign countries, who were attracted by his 
 high reputation to visit him at his residence. In the 
 court before his door there was a large walnut-tree 
 under which he often passed his summer evenings 
 and entertained his friends. 
 
 Imagination can present no brighter picture of a 
 happy old age than is exhibited in the real life of 
 Henry; and, when we compare this charming spec- 
 tacle with that of the cares and privations which 
 have clouded the closing years of some of our great- 
 est Revolutionary patriots, we are forced to acknowl- 
 edge that the strict private economy with which 
 Henry has sometimes been reproached as a fault, 
 when combined, as it was in his case, with a genial 
 temperament and a liberal discharge of all the duties 
 
158 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 of life, was not so much a venial error as an actual, 
 positive, and most important virtue. He had been 
 always strongly impressed with the importance of 
 religion, and had studied with care the best books on 
 the subject that came within his reach. In the year 
 1790, he published, at his own expense, for gratui- 
 tous distribution among the people, an edition of 
 Soame Jenyns's *' View of the Internal Evidences of 
 Christianity." Among his favorite works were 
 Doddridge's '' Rise and Progress of Religion in the 
 Soul," and Butler's " Analogy of Religion, Natural 
 and Revealed " ; a selection not less honorable to his 
 literary taste than to his religious character. In 
 his last days he dwelt with augmented interest on 
 these great subjects. 
 
 To a friend, who visited him not long before his 
 death and found him engaged in reading the Bible, 
 he remarked : *' This is a book worth more than all 
 the others that were ever printed. It is my misfor- 
 tune not to have found time'to read it with the proper 
 attention and feeling till lately. I trust in the mercy 
 of Heaven that it is not yet too late." It appears, 
 from the language used on this occasion, and from 
 other circumstances, that he inclined to what is 
 popularly called the Orthodox view of Christianity; 
 but he was entirely free from sectarian dogmatism, 
 and did not even connect himself in form with any 
 denomination of Christians. He had probably 
 reached, by the power of his own instinctive sagacity, 
 that higher view towards which the public mind is 
 now struggling, without having yet fully attained it, 
 which regards the points that divide the different 
 
PATRICK HENRY t59 
 
 sects from each other as comparatively Immaterial, 
 and the essence of religion as residing in those that 
 are common to them all. 
 
 In his person, Henry was tall and thin, with a 
 slight stoop of the shoulders. His complexion was 
 dark, and his face furrowed by deep lines of care 
 and thought, which gave it a somewhat severe as- 
 pect. In his youth, he was rather inattentive to his 
 dress ; but in his later years, especially on public oc- 
 casions, and while he occupied the executive chair, 
 he paid, in this respect, a proper regard to the de- 
 corum required by his position in society. At the 
 bar of the General Assembly he always appeared in 
 a full suit of black cloth, or velvet, with a tie-wig 
 dressed and powdered in the hig'hest style of forensic 
 fashion ; and in the winter season he wore over his 
 other apparel, in accordance with the usage of the 
 time, an ample scarlet cloak. As he advanced in 
 years, he also exchanged the rusticity of his youthful 
 maniiers for a deportment distinguished by entire 
 self-possession, and, on proper occasions, by an air 
 of stateliness and elegance. He is represented, by 
 those who have been present when he has entered the 
 hall of the Assembly for the purpose of arguing 
 some important case, as '* saluting the House all 
 round with a dignity, and even majesty, that would 
 have done honor to the most polished courtier in 
 Europe." 
 
 The leading traits in his intellectual -and moral 
 character have been often alluded to in the course 
 of this narrative, and are shown too clearly in his 
 practical life to require an elaborate recapitulation. 
 
l6o AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 He possessed an Instinctive sagacity, which suppHed 
 to a great extent the deficiencies of his education ; a 
 moral courage, which led him to spurn at all consid- 
 erations of mere temporary expediency when he was 
 once satisfied where the right lay, and a naturally 
 noble and generous heart. To these latter qualities 
 he owed his extraordinary efficiency and success as 
 a public speaker. Eloquence no doubt supposes, in 
 general, the natural gift of an easy, copious, and 
 flowing utterance ; but this is not a rare endowment, 
 and when wholly or chiefly relied upon for effect is 
 apt to tire, rather than convince or dehght, an audi- 
 ence. It rises into eloquence only when it becomes 
 the expression of powerful thought, and especially 
 of deep feehng. 
 
 While the speaker only gratifies the ear with me- 
 lodious tones and pleases the eye with graceful ges- 
 tures, he is in some degree successful, but does not 
 produce the highest possible effect. Nor does he 
 reach the perfection of his art when he merely suc- 
 ceeds in convincing the judgment by a train of 
 sound or plausible reasoning. It is only when he 
 acts upon the moral part of our nature, by stirring 
 and successful appeals to the passions, that he 
 kindles enthusiasm, and becomes for the moment a 
 sort of divinity. The power of producing such ef- 
 fects, of making such appeals with* success, is itself 
 in great measure the result of a naturally keen sen- 
 sibility, which is accordingly represented by the 
 greatest critic of antiquity as the foundation of ex- 
 cellence in public speaking. Pectus est quod facit 
 disertum. But even this essential requisite is not 
 
PATRICK HENRY l6l 
 
 sufficient; for the orator must not only move and 
 melt, but, on proper occasions, alarm, terrify, and 
 subjugate his hearers. In order to succeed in this, 
 he must possess the moral courage, the undaunted 
 self-possession, the overwhelming energy of charac- 
 ter, which enables him to point the artillery of his 
 eloquence at its object, under all circumstances, and 
 without regard to personal consequences. 
 
 In the possession, in a much higher degree than 
 others, of these transcendent moral qualifications for 
 success in oratory, lay the secret of the supremacy 
 of Henry over his distinguished contemporaries and 
 rivals, some of whom, as, for instance, Richard 
 Henry Lee, were much above him in literary accom- 
 plishments and external graces of manner. In this 
 lay the peculiar charm, which, by general acknowl- 
 edgment, hung upon his lips, as it does upon those of 
 every truly eloquent speaker, and which the hearer 
 can only feel without being able to describe. De- 
 scription, in fact, embraces only such particulars as 
 meet the eye and ear ; but the sympathy which rouses 
 and inflames the moral part of our nature is a kind 
 of magnetic impulse that passes from the heart of 
 the speaker to that of his audience, eluding observa- 
 tion, and only recognized in its overwhelming 
 results. 
 
 The language which forms the medium for the 
 transmission of this impulse, and which is identical 
 in its essence with the highest poetry, transcends, of 
 course, the talent of the ordinary reporter. It can 
 never be reduced to a permanent form, excepting 
 when the orator himself combines with the requisites 
 
 A. B., VOL. in.— II 
 
l62 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 of his own art the talent of a first-rate writer. To 
 this rare combination of powers we owe the finished 
 specimens which have come down to us of the elo- 
 quence of the two great orators of Greece and Rome. 
 Chatham, the first of British speakers, either wanted 
 the talent of writing, or did not exercise it in his 
 own speeches; which correspond very imperfectly 
 with the effects that we know to have attended their 
 delivery. Henry, like him, had never cultivated, 
 and rarely exercised, the art of writing ; the reports 
 of his speeches, while they furnish an outline of the 
 argument, convey no image of the glowing language 
 in which they were clothed, still less of the moral in- 
 spiration that chiefly gave them effect. They fall, 
 of course, far below his fame ; and it is, after all, on 
 the faith of mere tradition, attested, however, by 
 facts too numerous and of too public a character to 
 leave it in any way doubtful that the present and fu- 
 ture generations will acknowledge the justice of his 
 claim to the proud title that has been given him, of 
 the greatest orator of the New World. 
 
LIFE OF 
 MAJOR-GENERAL 
 
 NATHANIEL GREENE 
 
 BY 
 
 J. r. HEADLEY 
 
MAJOR-GEN. NATHANIEL GREENE 
 
 His early Life. — Whipped by his Father. — Appointed Brigadier- 
 General. — Is Sick during the Battle of Long Island. — 
 Bravery at Brandywine, and Germantown, and Springfield. 
 — Appointed over the Southern Army. — Battle of Covvpens. 
 — His famous retreat through the Carolinas. — Battle of 
 Guilford. — Battle of Hobkirk's Hill. — Turns fiercely on 
 Cornwallis's Line of Posts. — Storming of Ninety-six. — Bat- 
 tle of Eutaw Springs. — Distress and Nakedness of his Army. 
 — Triumphant Entrance into Charleston. — Removes South. 
 — Death and Character. 
 
 It is pleasant to take up a character, the resplen- 
 dent qualities of which are not darkened by serious 
 defects. Arnold was adventurous and heroic, but he 
 lacked principle — Lee, brilliant and brave, but too 
 ambitious; while Greene possessed all their good 
 qualities, with none of their bad ones. Poor, and 
 without patrons, he began his career on the lowest 
 steps of fame's ladder, and by his energy and effort 
 alone, reached the highest — yet he never becam^ 
 dizzy by elevation, nor exhibited any of those weak 
 or wicked passions power and rank so invariably 
 develop. 
 
 Nathaniel Greene was born in Warwick, 
 Rhode Island, May 27th, 1742, and hence was a 
 young man at the breaking out of the Revolution. 
 His father was a Quaker preacher; and young Na- 
 
 165 
 
1 66 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 thaniel was early instructed in the principles of peace 
 and universal brotherhood. To have seen him about 
 on the farm, in his drab suit and broad-brimmed hat, 
 or sitting meek and grave as a statue in one of those 
 silent conventicles, one would never have picked him 
 out for a major-general in the American army. His 
 father owned a forge, and to this Nathaniel was 
 finally promoted from the farm, and worked at the 
 anvil with the same vigor he afterwards did in ham- 
 mering out his own fortune. For awhile his youthful 
 energy and ambition expended itself in athletic 
 sports, such as wrestling, leaping, throwing the bar, 
 and so forth, and in these none swung a more vigor- 
 ous or steadier arm than he. He was very fond of 
 dancing, which, of course, was looked upon by his 
 sect with abhorrence. To have the son of a Quaker 
 preacher the wildest in the frolic, and the merriest 
 in all the dance, was a public scandal not to be toler- 
 ated a moment, and the most peremptory commands 
 were laid on young Greene. The latter pretended" "to 
 obey ; but after his grave father was asleep he would 
 often drop from his chamber window, and steal away 
 to the scene of mirth. The suspicious parent, how- 
 ever, got wind of it in some way, and so, one night, 
 when there was to be a large ball in the neighbor- 
 hood, kept watch. Finding, late in the evening, that 
 his son had gone, the old gentleman locked the door 
 of the house, and, with a horsewhip in his hand, be- 
 gan to pace backwards and forwards under the win- 
 dow from which the culprit had escaped. The latter, 
 returning home before daylight, saw through the 
 gloom the figure of his father slowly moving to and 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE 167 
 
 fro, and he knew what to expect. To wait at a dis- 
 tance till morning would lead to certain detection, 
 and to enter the house without being discovered was 
 impossible, and so, after holding a short council of 
 war with himself over the matter, he determined to 
 advance boldly and take the flogging prepared for 
 him. But with that quick invention which after- 
 wards served him so well on more important occa- 
 sions, he slipped some shingles under his coat behind, 
 to deaden the blows of the horsewhip, which he knew 
 his stern father would wield with no baby hand. 
 Having taken this wise precaution, he walked boldly 
 up and took the castigation. The shingles, however, 
 did their duty, much to the young culprit's gratifica- 
 tion. 
 
 But his strong mind could not long be satisfied 
 with these follies, and he soon became enamoured of 
 books, and, whether in the field or at the forge, was 
 ever found with one by his side. He took up Euclid 
 by himself, and mastered its difficult problems with- 
 out assistance. While his iron was heating, he would 
 sit down, and with his soiled hands turn over the 
 pages of the renowned geometer with delight. This 
 and similar studies, gave to his mind a breadth and 
 grasp which he never could have obtained in his 
 ordinary occupations. All the pocket-money he 
 could raise was spent in purchasing books, and he 
 made toys or trinkets of various kinds which he dis- 
 posed of for the same object. His craving mind, 
 having once seized on books, it seemed impossible to 
 satisfy it ; and hence, at the age of twenty, he laid the 
 basis of a powerful character. Abstemious — eating 
 
1 68 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 but two meals a day, he devoted all his leisure hours 
 to the cultivation of his mind, and the accumulation 
 of knowledge, and before twenty-eight years old, had 
 a library of two hundred and fifty volumes. In 1770 
 he was elected member of the General Assembly of 
 the colony, and entered at once with all the ardor of 
 his nature into the contest which had commenced 
 between the colonies and the parent country. He 
 was soon convinced that the battle-field must decide 
 the question, and, casting aside all his Quaker preju- 
 dices, resolved to draw his sword for freedom. He 
 immediately plunged into the intricacies of military 
 science, and eagerly devoured every book relating to 
 the subject on which he could lay his hands. Bold 
 and decided, he made no concealment of his determi- 
 nation : and the sect to which he belonged, unable, of 
 course, to overlook this violation of their rules, called 
 him to account. But neither persuasions nor threats 
 could change the young Quaker's purpose, and he 
 was cut off from the society. His drab coat and 
 broad-brimmed hat were now thrown to the winds ; 
 and with his musket on his shoulder, he entered, as 
 a private, one of the many independent companies 
 then everywhere forming. 
 
 In the year 1774 he was married ; but not even the 
 attractions of his young bride could restrain him 
 from the scene of danger. The next year the battles 
 of Lexington and Concord were fought, and the rat- 
 tling of arms was heard the length and breadth of 
 the land, as the entire nation rose to defend its 
 hearth-stones. Greene immediately started for Bos- 
 ton. In the organization of an army, which fol- 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE 169 
 
 lowed, Rhode Island voted to raise a force of sixteeti 
 hundred men, and appointed Greene major-general. 
 
 After the battle of Bunker Hill, he joined the army 
 at Cambridge. Congress, in appointing the officers 
 of the continental army, was compelled in some cases 
 to change the rank held by the provincial command- 
 ers ; and Greene, under the new arrangement, sunk 
 to brigadier-general. He immediately entered upon 
 a course of discipline, the effect of which was soon 
 apparent in the troops under his command. This 
 habit formed at the outset, was of great use to him 
 ever afterwards. 
 
 He seems, also, to have studied more deeply than 
 many others the character of the quarrel between the 
 two countries, and his strong mind to have forecast 
 the necessity of a more decisive step than the mere 
 redress of grievances ; for, from his camp at Prospect 
 Hill, he writes to a member of Congress, saying, 
 " Permit me to recommend, from the sincerity of a 
 heart at all times ready to bleed in my country's 
 cause, a declaration of independence, and call upon 
 the world, and the great God who governs it, to wit- 
 ness the necessity, propriety, and rectitude thereof." 
 
 He early won the confidence and esteem of Wash- 
 ington, and the latter sent him in the Spring to oc- 
 cupy Long Island with his brigade. He entered on 
 his work with ardor — examined the ground, estab- 
 lished his posts, and made all the preparations in his 
 power, to give the enemy a warm reception. But at 
 this critical juncture, he was seized with a bilious 
 fever, which laid him on his back, and for a while 
 seriously threatened his life. It was thus Putnam 
 
I/O AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 became placed over his troops, who, from his ig- 
 norance of the ground, and unpreparedness every 
 way, suffered that defeat, which, but for the prompt- 
 ness and energy, generalship and skill of Washing- 
 ton, would have proved fatal to the whole army. 
 One can imagine what a brave man like Greene must 
 have felt, in being compelled to lie idle in such an 
 important crisis. Just as his career was opening, and 
 after all the labor and drudgery had been gone 
 through, to be thrown aside as a useless thing, was a 
 most bitter disappointment. Besides, the fate of his 
 brave troops, of which he had become so fond and 
 so proud, might rest on the manner in which they 
 were led into action. From his sick bed he heard the 
 thunder of the first cannon, as it shook the house in 
 which he lay helpless, and half-rising from his fever- 
 ish couch, he exclaimed, " Gracious God, to be con- 
 fined at such a time! " His brave heart was wrung 
 with such sorrow as only heroes know, and as the 
 uproar of the combat increased, his agitation became 
 intense. Explosion after explosion shook his bed, 
 and his eager inquiries as to the fate of the battle, 
 could brook no delay. At last, when told that his 
 favorite regiment — that of Swallwood — had been 
 terribly handled and cut to pieces, he could contain 
 himself no longer, but burst into an agony of tears. 
 In the meantime, he had been promoted to the rank 
 of major-general. As soon as he could sit his horse, 
 he took the field, and. was present at the battle of 
 Harlaem Heights. The capture of the garrison of 
 Fort Washington, was owing chiefiy to Greene's 
 want of judgment, who insisted on holding it against 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE 
 
 171 
 
 the enemy. He always contended, however, that his 
 views in the case were correct, and that had the 
 troops proved sufficiently brave, the fort could not 
 have been taken. He was beside Washington in his 
 memorable retreat through the Jerseys, and in the 
 brilliant movement upon Trenton, commanded the 
 division which the latter accompanied in person. In 
 that fearful night and fearful passage, he exhibited 
 the coolness and stern resolution which afterwards 
 so characterized him. He was with him also in the 
 march on Princeton, and led his battalions to the 
 charge with incredible fury. In these desperate en- 
 counters, the young Quaker had taken severe lessons 
 in the art of war, while the heroism and personal ex- 
 posure of the commander-in-chief had shown him 
 how a general should behave in the moment of peril. 
 He gazed in admiration on him, as he rode amid the 
 guns through the gloom and storm towards Trenton, 
 and saw, with unbounded delight, that tall form spur 
 into the deadly volleys at Princeton. His heart fas- 
 tened at once on his glorious leader, and amid all the 
 dangers and conspiracies that afterwards shook so 
 terribly the integrity of many of the officers, his love 
 and faithfulness never faltered. 
 
 When the army went into winter-quarters at Mor- 
 ristown, he was despatched to Congress to push that 
 dilatory body to an immediate re-organization of the 
 forces. He afterwards was sent to examine the 
 passes of the Highlands ; but Spring found him again 
 at his post. At the battle of Brandywine— the finale 
 to the manoeuvres that had been performed all sum- 
 mer, he exhibited that decision, and power over his 
 
172 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 soldiers, which rendered him such a dreaded antago- 
 nist. At the commencement of the action he had 
 been stationed far in the rear, as a reserve, to co- 
 operate with any portion of the army which needed 
 him most. But 'when the flight commenced, he 
 hastened up, and marching his men four miles in 
 forty-nine minutes, met the terrified disordered army. 
 Untouched by the panic and terror around them, his 
 brave troops wheeled sternly in front of the pursuing, 
 shouting enemy. As the throng of fugitives came 
 pouring on them, the ranks would open and let them 
 pass, then close again, as the turbulent stream rolled 
 away over the field. Thus opening and shutting his 
 steady ranks, and slowly retreating, Greene at length 
 cleared himself of the shattered army, and reaching 
 a narrow defile, made a bold stand. Encouraging 
 his little band, by voice and gesture, he held it to the 
 shock for three-quarters of an hour. His firm front 
 and steady volleys repelled every effort — and at 
 length, as darkness shut in the scene, the enemy with- 
 drew, and he hastened up to the main army. The 
 conduct of his troops on this occasion, in thus with- 
 standing the panic around them, and steadily holding 
 in check the entire British force, was worthy the 
 veteran armies of Europe. 
 
 In the battle of Germantown, which followed, he 
 commanded the left wing, and did all that could be 
 done to save the battle. In the retreat the gunners 
 forsook their pieces, and he, after trying in vain to 
 rally them, made them take hold of hands, and thus 
 drag the artillery off. During this year he was ap- 
 pointed quartermaster-general, and his energy and 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE 1 73 
 
 industry soon wrought a wonderful change in this 
 hitherto neglected department of the army. The 
 next winter his home was a log hut at Valley Forge. 
 At the battle of Monmouth, which opened the sum- 
 mer campaign, he commanded the right wing, and 
 brought his troops nobly into action. His heavy 
 guns sent disorder through the advancing lines, and 
 gave double power to Wayne's charge on the centre. 
 In July he was sent to Rhode Island to co-operate 
 with Lafayette and Sullivan in the projected descent 
 on Newport, and covered that skilful retreat which 
 saved the army. 
 
 In the discharge of his duties as quartermaster- 
 general, he had exhibited not only his energy and 
 skill, but also the noblest moral qualities, in bearing 
 up against suspicion and hate and slander, and gen- 
 erously sinking his own feelings and reputation in 
 the general good. But at length Congress made his 
 department so odious to the people that he deter- 
 mined to resign. Washington, however, persuaded 
 him to remain until he could present a plan to the 
 government which, if accepted, would put his depart- 
 ment on a proper footing. The plan, instead of being 
 adopted, was mutilated and sent back, and Greene 
 resigned. The letter conveying his resignation was, 
 both in its manner and spirit, a stern and severe con- 
 demnation of the conduct of Congress; and that 
 body, swayed by passion and faction more than by 
 judgment and patriotism, instantly proposed to dis- 
 miss him from the service altogether. A fierce dis- 
 cussion ensued, and the friends of Greene could 
 scarcely check the torrent of wrath that was about 
 
1/4 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 to roll on his head. Washin^on heard of It, and 
 wrote letters of earnest entreaty and solemn warning, 
 telling those factious members to beware how they 
 touched one so necessary to the country, and so be- 
 loved by the soldiers. Better counsels finally pre- 
 vailed, and Greene's resignation was received with- 
 out any reference to his rank in the line. 
 
 During the year 1780 occurred his heroic defence 
 at Springfield, New Jersey. Washington, fearing 
 the enemy was about to make a demonstration on 
 West Point, moved towards the Hudson, leaving 
 Greene, with only thirteen hundred men at Spring- 
 field. Here the latter received intelligence that Sir 
 Henry Clinton, with five thousand British troops, 
 had landed at Elizabethtown, and was marching 
 against him. With his little band drawn up on the 
 western bank of the Rahway, he coolly waited their 
 approach. His first position was by the bridges, and 
 his second on the heights in the rear. Soon the ad- 
 vancing columns emerged into view, and as they 
 came within range, opened their artillery, and a fierce 
 cannonade was kept up for two hours. Finding all 
 attempts to dislodge our troops with the artillery 
 fruitless, the infantry were ordered to advance, and 
 soon opened their fire. Our men withstood gallantly 
 for a while this overwhelming force; and when at 
 length they were compelled to retreat, did so in per- 
 fect order, and slowly fell back to their second posi- 
 tion. Here Greene waited anxiously for a second 
 struggle; but Clinton wisely forbore, and returning 
 to the village, commenced the nobler work of burn- 
 ing it to the ground. Having accomplished this feat, 
 
NATHANIEL CxREENE 1 75 
 
 he rapidly retreated, lest Washington should turn 
 upon him. 
 
 In the fall of this year, when the treason of Arnold 
 sent consternation through the countr}% Greene was 
 in command of the army — Washington being at the 
 time absent on a journey to Hartford, to confer with 
 the French commanders. On him fell the painful 
 duty of presiding at the court-martial which tried 
 and condemned Andre. West Point was immediate- 
 ly put under his command ; but scarcely had he en- 
 tered upon his duties before he was called to the 
 South, to repair the ruin wrought by Gates's terrible 
 defeat at Camden. Although he had now been five 
 years in service without any interval of repose, and 
 his property was wasting away through want of his 
 supervision, and his strong constitution was shat- 
 tered by constant exposure, he hastened without de- 
 lay to the new field of his labor. 
 
 From this point commences the real history of 
 Greene. Intrusted with a separate command, at a 
 distance from the commander-in-chief and Congress, 
 and surrounded by all the difficulties that try men 
 most, the resources of his powerful mind, and his 
 amazing energies, began to develop themselves. He 
 had hitherto been an able and efificient under-ofificer ; 
 he was now to show that he possessed the higher 
 qualities necessary to conduct a long and arduous 
 campaign to a successful issue. But the obstacles 
 that met him on the threshold, were enough to daunt 
 even a more resolute heart than his. Gates's over- 
 throw had left everything in the worst possible state ; 
 so that he was hurled into a perfect chaos, and ex- 
 
176 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 pected to bring order out of confusion, and strength 
 out of weakness. Without money, without stores, 
 without anything necessary to carry on a campaign, 
 he joined his army, which, all counted, could not 
 muster two thousand men. Destitute of clothing, 
 of arms and ammunition, tattered, half-starved and 
 dispirited, covered with every and any article they 
 could lay hands on, they presented the appearance of 
 a motley crowd, rather than of a well-appointed and 
 organized force. Out of the whole he could muster 
 but eight hundred men fit for service. With these — 
 an empty magazine — no provisions, and a few pieces 
 of cannon, he was expected to make head against 
 Cornwallis, with a well-disciplined and powerful 
 army at his back. True, there were some cheering 
 features to this otherwise hopeless prospect — the 
 officers under his command were as brave men as 
 ever drew sword in battle. There was Morgan, a 
 host in himself — Lee, with his fierce legion — Marion, 
 Vvith his trusty partisans — the gallant Sumpter; the 
 headlong and fiery-hearted Washington, with his 
 cavalry; forming a group of leaders to which the 
 British army could furnish no parallel. 
 
 Greene's first step was to locate his troops where 
 he could be safe from attack, until he could drill 
 them, and obtain the necessary reinforcements to 
 take the field. This was no easy task ; for the British 
 army, then lying at Winnsborough, flanked by strong 
 garrisons, was on the alert, and ready at any moment 
 to fall on their weak adversary, and crush him at a 
 single blow. Relying on himself alone, Greene called 
 no council of war, and commenced at once that deep 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE 1 77 
 
 and daring game, which baffled all the efforts of 
 Cornwallis to fathom. Selecting a strong post on 
 the frontiers of South Carolina for the main army, 
 he sent Morgan with a few hundred troops to hover 
 about the enemy, and strike wherever an opportunity 
 offered. This division of his forces, already too 
 weak, has been condemned by some, as a violation 
 of the rules of military art ; and so it would have been 
 under ordinary circumstances. The smaller the 
 force the greater the concentration, is a rule which in 
 active warfare it will not do to violate. But Greene 
 wanted time — delay was of vital importance to him, 
 and this he could not expect with his army located in 
 one place, and constantly exposed to the attack of a 
 superior enemy. He divided his forces, not so much 
 to give strength to his own operations, as to bewilder 
 his antagonist ; and it had the desired effect. Corn- 
 wallis scarcely knew which way to turn, or where 
 his wary adversary was about to strike, and hence 
 divided his own forces. Had he known the situation 
 and plans of Greene, he might easily have destroyed 
 him, by marching his entire army first upon one, and 
 then upon the other detachment of the Americans. 
 But Greene had calculated wisely ; his adversary was 
 thrown into perturbation as he discovered Lee, 
 Marion, and Morgan, hanging threateningly on his 
 flanks. 
 
 BATTLE OF COWPENS 
 
 But Cornwallis at length saw the error he had been 
 led into, and immediately concentrating his troops, 
 moved forward upon Morgan. Tarleton, with eleven 
 
 A. B., VOL. III.— 12 
 
178 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 hundred men, was ordered to meet him in front, 
 while he himself, with the main part of the army, 
 would cut off his retreat. Morgan, with less than a 
 thousand men, immediately began to retire; but 
 Tarleton, with his accustomed vigor, pressed him so 
 hard, that when he came to Broad River he dared 
 not attempt the passage, and so resolved to make a 
 desperate stand where he was. He divided his troops 
 into two portions, one in the open field, and the other 
 behind it in the wood. Tarleton formed his men into 
 two lines, with the artillery in the centre, and the 
 cavalry on either flank. In this order they moved 
 forward to the attack. After a single fire the first 
 American line gave way, and the victorious enemy, 
 with loud huzzas, pressed forward upon the second. 
 Here, however, they met with a stern resistance, and 
 the close volleys of the Americans made terrible 
 havoc. Tarleton seeing this, hurried up a part of his 
 second line, and, at the same time, ordered his cav- 
 alry to charge the right. This double movement was 
 completely successful, and the victorious .British 
 swept the field with deafening shouts. In this critical 
 moment, Washington, who had calmly sat and 
 watched every movement, ordered his bugler to 
 sound the charge, and placing himself at the head of 
 his squadron, shouted them to follow. With their 
 sabres shaking above their heads, they burst in a 
 headlong gallop upon the astonished infantry. 
 Through and through their broken ranks they rode, 
 scattering them like a whirlwind from their path. 
 The British cavalry rolled back in confusion before 
 the fierce onset, and the battle was restored. This 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE 1 79 
 
 gave time to Morgan to rally his infantry.* With 
 his sword flashing above his head, and his tremen- 
 dous voice ringing over the din of arms, he moved 
 amid his disordered troops, and at length, by com- 
 mands and threats, and the most prodigious efforts, 
 rallied them to the charge, and moving at their head, 
 poured them in one wild torrent on the enemy. The 
 shock of those thousand men was tremendous; and 
 the English army stopped, and quivered a moment 
 before it, then broke and fled in wild confusion, tram- 
 pled down at every step by Washington's cavalry. 
 Out of the eleven hundred men Tarleton led into 
 battle, he saved but four hundred. Two cannon, 
 eight hundred muskets, a hundred dragoon-horses, 
 and tents and ammunition, w^ere the fruits of this 
 victory. 
 
 Scarcely had the roar of battle ceased before Mor- 
 gan began to retreat. He knew Cornwallis, with a 
 powerful army, w^as close upon him, and an hour's 
 delay might lose him all the fruits of his gallant 
 achievement. The British commander strained every 
 nerve to cut him off, and recover the spoils and 
 prisoners that had been taken. But with such vigor 
 had Morgan pushed his retreat, that his adversary 
 was unable to overtake him, and came up to the 
 Catawba just in time to see the last of the rear-guard 
 form on the opposite shore. Still it was possible to 
 reach him before he could effect a junction with 
 Greene, and he resolved to spare no sacrifice to secure 
 
 * Howard and Pinckney wrought prodigies — making the 
 militia charge bayonet like old veterans. The former had at 
 one time five swords of officers who had surrendered, in his 
 hands. 
 
l80 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 this result. He immediately ordered the baggage of 
 the army to be destroyed, so that it could move rapid- 
 ly and without encumbrance. Liquor casks were 
 staved in before the soldiers — wagons consumed, 
 and all those things which go to make up the little 
 comforts of a camp committed to the flames. Corn- 
 wallis set the example — and beginning with his own 
 baggage, the destruction continued till it reached the 
 last private. It took two days to complete it — and 
 then, stripped like a wrestler for the struggle, the 
 British general moved forward. But Greene, with 
 only a single aid, and a sergeant's guard of dragoons, 
 had left the main army, and pressed forward a hun- 
 dred and fifty miles to succor Morgan. The victors 
 of Cowpens received him with acclamations as he 
 rode into camp. With him at their head they feared 
 nothing, and joyfully entered on the race with their 
 adversary. 
 
 SKILFUL RETREAT THROUGH THE CAROLINAS 
 
 Greene had ordered the main army to rendezvous 
 at Guilford, and thither he now directed his steps, 
 closely watched by Cornwallis. 
 
 To understand the ground over which this re- 
 markable retreat was performed, it is necessary only 
 to glance at a map. Three large rivers rise in the 
 north-west parts of South and North Carolina, and 
 flow in a south-easterly direction into the Atlantic. 
 The lower, or more southern one, is the Catawba, 
 which empties into the Santee. The next, north of it, 
 ar ' nearly parallel, is the Yadkin, emptying into the 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE l8l 
 
 Pedee. The last, and more northern, Is the Dan, 
 which soon leaves its south-easterly direction, and 
 winds backwards and forwards across the Virginia 
 line, and finally falls into the Roanoke. Greene was 
 now on the Catawba, or most southern river, and 
 directed his steps north — his line of progress cutting 
 the Yadkin and Dan. To place a deep river between 
 two armies effectually separates them for some time, 
 while a retreating army between one and a powerful 
 adversary, is almost sure to be ruined. Therefore, 
 the great effort of Cornwallis was to overtake his 
 weak enemy somewhere between the rivers, while the 
 latter strained every nerve to keep a deep stream 
 dividing him and his foe. Greene was now across 
 the Catawba, which, swollen by the recent rains, pre- 
 vented Cornwallis from crossing. But at length it 
 began to subside, and the latter determined, by a 
 night-march to a private ford near Salisbury to de- 
 ceive his antagonist, and cross without opposition. 
 But Greene had been on the alert, and stationed a 
 body of militia there to dispute the passage. At day- 
 break, the British column was seen silently approach- 
 ing the river. A deep hush was on everything, 
 broken only by the roar of the swollen waters, and 
 not a living thing was to be seen on the shore. Twi- 
 light still rested on the forest, and the turbid foam- 
 covered stream looked doubly appalling in the gloom. 
 The rain was falling in torrents, and the British 
 commander, as he reined up his steed on the slippery 
 banks, looked long and anxiously on the farther side. 
 There all was wild and silent ; but faint flashes of the 
 American fires, in the woods, told too well that he 
 
1 82 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 had been forestalled. Still, the order to advance was 
 given, and the column boldly entered the channel. 
 With muskets poised above their heads to keep them 
 dry, and leaning against each other, to steady their 
 slippery footing, the grenadiers pushed forward. As 
 they advanced the water deepened, until it flowed 
 in a strong, swift current, up to their waists. The 
 cavalry went plunging through, but the rapid stream 
 bore many of them, both horses and riders, down- 
 ward in the darkness. The head of the column had 
 already reached the centre of the river, when the 
 voices of the sentinels rung through the darkness, 
 and the next moment their guns flashed through the 
 storm. The Americans, five hundred in number, im- 
 mediately poured in a destructive volley, but the 
 British troops pressed steadily forward. Soldier 
 after soldier rolled over in the flood, and Cornwallis's 
 horse was shot under him ; but the noble animal, with 
 a desperate effort, carried his rider to the bank before 
 he fell. The intrepid troops at length reached the 
 shore, and routed the militia. Cornwallis was now 
 on the same side of the river with his antagonist, and 
 prepared to follow up his advantage with vigor. But 
 the latter no sooner heard that the enemy had passed 
 the Catawba, than he ordered the retreat to the Yad- 
 kin. Through the drenching rain and deep mud, 
 scarcely halting to eat or rest, the ragged troops 
 dragged their weary way, and on the third day 
 reached the river, and commenced crossing. In the 
 meantime, the recent rains had swollen this river 
 also, so that by the time Greene had safely effected 
 the passage, the current was foaming by on a level 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE 183 
 
 with its banks. He had urged everything forward 
 with the utmost speed, and at midnight, just as the 
 last of the rear-guard were embarking, they were 
 saluted with a volley from the advanced guard of 
 the British. When the morning light broke over the 
 scene, there lay the two armies within sight of each 
 other, and the blessed Yadkin surging and roaring 
 in threatening accents between, as if on purpose to 
 daunt the invaders from its bosom. Stung into mad- 
 ness at this second escape of their enemy, the English 
 lined the shore with artillery, and opened a fierce 
 cannonade on the American camp. But the army, 
 protected by an elevated ridge, rested quietly and 
 safely behind it. In a little cabin, just showing its 
 roof above the rocks, Greene took up his quarters, 
 and while his troops were reposing, commenced writ- 
 ing his despatches. The enemy suspecting the 
 American general had established himself there, di- 
 rected his artillery upon it, and soon the rocks rung 
 with the balls that smoked and bounded from their 
 sides. It was not long before the roof of the cabin 
 was struck, and the shingles and clapboards began to 
 fly about in every direction — but the stern warrior 
 within never once looked up, and wrote on as calmly 
 as if in his peaceful home. 
 
 Four days the British general tarried on the shores 
 of the Yadkin, and then, as the waters subsided, 
 again put his army in motion. Moving lower down 
 the river, he crossed over, and started anew after his 
 adversary. But the latter, ever vigilant, was already 
 on his march for Guilford, where he resolved to make 
 a stand, and strike this bold Briton to the heart. But 
 
1 84 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 on reaching Guilford, he learned, to his dismay, that 
 the reinforcements promised him had not arrived. 
 The English army was nearly double that of his own, 
 and all well-tried, disciplined soldiers ; and he knew 
 it would be madness to give battle on such disad- 
 vantageous terms. There was, therefore, no remedy 
 but retreat, and this had now become a difficult mat- 
 ter. In the hope of being able to sustain himself at 
 Guilford, he had suffered his enemy to approach so 
 near, and block him in so effectually, that there was 
 but one possible way of escape. Cornwallis at last 
 deemed his prey secure. 
 
 On the loth of February, this battle of manoeuvres 
 again commenced, and the two armies, now only 
 twenty-five miles apart, stretched forward. Corn- 
 wallis supposed his adversary would make for the 
 upper fords of the Dan, as there was nothing but 
 ferries below, and hence put his army in such a posi- 
 tion that he could crush him at once; but Greene 
 quietly withdrew towards the Lower Dan, where he 
 ordered boats to be congregated, in which he could 
 transport his troops over. His object in this was 
 twofold ; first, to place a deep instead of a fordable 
 river between him and his formidable adversary, and 
 secondly, to be in a situation to effect a junction with 
 the reinforcements he expected from Virginia. Dis- 
 covering at once the error under which Cornwallis 
 labored, he added to it by sending a large detach- 
 ment to manoeuvre in front, as if the upper fords 
 were indeed the object of his efforts. Colonel Wil- 
 liams commanded this chosen body of men, and 
 marched boldly against the entire English army. 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE 1 85 
 
 The British commander, thinking it to be the ad- 
 vanced guard of the Americans, began hastily to 
 contract his hnes, and make preparations for a fierce 
 resistance. This detained his march, and allowed 
 Greene to get a start, without which he must inevita- 
 bly have been lost. The English were without bag- 
 gage; indeed, the whole army had been converted 
 into light infantry, which enabled it to move with 
 much more alacrity than that of the Americans. It 
 was now the dead of winter — the roads to-day were 
 filled deep with mud, and to-morrow frozen hard, 
 presenting a mass of rugged points to the soldiers' 
 feet, through which or over which they were com- 
 pelled to drag themselves, urged on by the fear of 
 destruction. In the meantime Cornwallis, apprised 
 of his error, began the pursuit in good earnest. But 
 that gallant rear-guard of Williams kept between the 
 two armies, slowly retreating, but still present — ever 
 bending like a brow of wrath on the advancing 
 enemy. The fate of the American army rested on its 
 firmness and skill, and every officer in it seemed to 
 feel the immense trust committed to his care. There 
 were Lee's gallant legion, and Washington's heavy 
 mounted, desperate horsemen, heroes every one. 
 Vigilant, untiring, brave, they hovered with such a 
 threatening aspect around the advancing columns, 
 that they were compelled to march in close order to 
 prevent an attack. The least negligence, the least 
 oversight, and the blow would fall like lightning. 
 Never did a rear-guard behave more gallantly. The 
 men were allowed only three hours' sleep out of the 
 twenty-four, and but one meal a day. By starting 
 
1 86 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 and pushing forward three hours before daylight, 
 they were enabled to get a breakfast, and this was 
 the last repast till next morning. Yet the brave 
 fellows bore all without a murmur; and night after 
 night, and day after day, presented the same deter- 
 mined front to the enemy. Cornwallis, believing for 
 awhile that he had the whole American force in 
 front, rejoiced in its proximity, knowing that when 
 it reached the river it must perish — then Virginia 
 would lie open to his victorious arms, and the whole 
 South be prostrate. But when he at length discov- 
 ered his mistake, he strained forward with desperate 
 efforts. 
 
 In the meanwhile, that fleeing army presented a 
 most heart-rending spectacle. Half clad, and many 
 of them barefoot, with only one blanket for every 
 four men, they toiled through the mire, or left their 
 blood on the frozen ground — pressing on through 
 the wintry storm and cold winds in the desperate 
 struggle for life. At night when they snatched a 
 few moments' repose, three soldiers would stretch 
 themselves on the damp ground under one blanket, 
 and the fourth keep watch: and happy were those 
 who had even this scanty covering. Over hills, 
 through forests, across streams, they held their 
 anxious way, drenched by the rains, and chilled by 
 the water through which they waded — and, unpro- 
 tected and uncovered, were compelled to dry their 
 clothes by the heat of their own bodies. Greene saw 
 their distress with bitter grief, but it could not be 
 helped — his cheering words and bright example were 
 all he could give them. Now hurrying along his 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE 1 8/ 
 
 exhausted columns, and now anxiously listening to 
 hear the sound of the enemy's guns in the distance, 
 he became a prey to the most wasting anxiety. From 
 the time he had set out for the camp of Morgan, on 
 the banks of the Catawba, he had not taken off his 
 clothes ; while not an officer in the army was earlier 
 in the saddle, or later out of it, than he. But undis- 
 mayed — his strong soul fully resolved yet to conquer 
 — he surveyed with a calm, stern eye, the dangers 
 that thickened around him. Should the rear-guard 
 fail, nothing but a miracle could save him — but it 
 should not fail. Every deep-laid plan was thwarted, 
 every surprise disconcerted, and every sudden move- 
 ment to crush it eluded by its tireless, sleepless lead- 
 ers. Often within musket-shot of the enemy's van- 
 guard, the excited soldiers wished to return the fire ; 
 but the stern orders to desist were obeyed, and the 
 two tired armies toiled on. It was a fearful race for 
 life, and right nobly was it run. 
 
 At length the main army arrived within forty 
 miles of the ferry-boats which were to place a deep 
 river between them and the foe, and hope quickened 
 every step. All night long they swept onward 
 through the gloom, cheered by the thought that an- 
 other day would place the object for which they 
 struggled within their grasp. On that same cold 
 and slippery night the noble rear-guard, slowly re- 
 treating, suddenly saw, at twelve o'clock, watch-fires 
 blazing in the distance. There then lay the army, 
 for which they had struggled so nobly and suffered 
 so much, overtaken at last, and sure to fall. In this 
 fearful crisis, that gallant band paused and held a 
 
1 88 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 short consultation; and then resolved, with one ac- 
 cord, to throw themselves in an overwhelming charge 
 on the English army, and rolling it back on itself, by 
 a sacrifice as great as it was glorious, secure a few 
 more hours of safety to those they were protecting. 
 This noble devotion was spared such a trial ; the fires 
 were indeed those kindled by Greene's soldiers, but 
 the tired columns had departed, and staggering from 
 want of repose and food, were now stretching for- 
 ward through the midnight, miles in advance. Corn- 
 wallis, when he arrived at the smouldering camp- 
 fires, believed himself almost up with Greene, and 
 allowing his troops but a few moments' repose, 
 marched all night long. In the morning his van was 
 close upon the rear of that firm guard. Now came 
 the last prodigious effort of the British commander 
 — that rear-guard must fall, and with it, Greene, or 
 all his labor and sacrifice would be in vain. On the 
 banks of the Dan he had resolved to bury the Ameri- 
 can army, and if human effort and human energy 
 could effect it, it should be done. His steady col- 
 umns closed more threateningly and rapidly on the 
 guard, pushing it fiercely before them, and scorning 
 all meaner success, pressed forward for the greater 
 prize. Still Lee's intrepid legion, and Washington's 
 fearless horsemen, hung black and wrathful around 
 their path, striving desperately, but in vain, to check 
 their rapid advance. On, on,, like racers approaching 
 the goal, they swept over the open country, driving 
 everything before them. 
 
 But at noon a single horseman was seen coming, 
 in a swift gallop, up the road along which Greene 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE 1 89 
 
 had lately passed. Every eye watched him as he 
 approached, and as he reined his panting steed up 
 beside the officers of that exhausted, but still resolute 
 band, and exclaimed, '' The army is over the river," 
 a loud huzza rent the air. 
 
 The main portion of the guard was now hastily 
 despatched by the shortest route to the ferry, while 
 Lee still hovered with his legion in front of Corn- 
 wallis. As the former approached the river, they 
 saw Greene, wan and haggard, standing on the 
 shore, and gazing anxiously up the road by which 
 they were expected to appear. His army was over, 
 but he had remained behind to learn the fate of that 
 noble guard, and if necessary, to fly to its relief. His 
 eye lightened with exultation, as he saw the column 
 rush forward to the river with shouts which were 
 echoed in deafening accents from the opposite shore. 
 It was now dark, and the troops were crowded with 
 the utmost despatch into the boats, and hastened 
 over. Scarcely were they safely landed, before the 
 banks shook beneath the hurried heavy tramp of 
 Lee's legion, as it came thundering on towards the 
 ferry. The next moment the shores rung with the 
 clatter of armor, as those bold riders dismounted, and 
 leaped into the boats ready to receive them. Their 
 horses were pushed into the water after them, and 
 the black mass disappeared in the gloom. In a few 
 moments, lights dancing along the farther shore told 
 of their safe arrival, and a shout that made the 
 welkin ring went up from the American camp. Lee 
 was the last man that embarked ; he would not stir 
 till his brave dragoons were all safe; and as the boat 
 
190 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 that bore him touched the shore, the tread of the 
 British van echoed along the banks he had just left. 
 The pursuing columns closed rapidly in towards the 
 river, but the prey they thought within their grasp 
 had escaped. Not a boat was left behind, and Corn- 
 wallis saw with the keenest anguish, a deep broad 
 river rolling between him and his foe. It was a bitter 
 disappointment; his baggage had all been destroyed 
 in vain, and this terrible march of two hundred and 
 fifty miles made only to be retraced. 
 
 But no pen can describe the joy and exultation that 
 reigned in the American camp that night. The army 
 received that gallant rear-guard with open arms, and 
 hailed them as their deliverers. Forgot was all — 
 their lacerated feet, and stiffened limbs, and empty 
 stomachs, and scanty clothing — and even the wintry 
 wind swept by unheeded in the joy of their escape. 
 Together they sat down and recounted their toils, 
 and asked, each of the other, his perils and hardships 
 by the way. Laughter, and mirth, and songs, and 
 all the reckless gayety of a camp from which re- 
 straint is taken, made the shores echo. But it was 
 with sterner pleasure Greene contemplated his es- 
 cape; and as he looked on the majestic river, rolling 
 its broad, deep current onward in the star-light, a 
 mountain seemed to lift from his heart. He listened 
 to the boisterous mirth about him, only to rejoice that 
 so many brave fellows had been snatched from the 
 enemy ; then turned to his tent to ponder on his posi- 
 tion, and resolve what next to do. 
 
 Thus ended this glorious retreat. It had been 
 conducted for two hundred and fifty miles, through a 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE I9I 
 
 country not furnishing a single defile in which a 
 stand could be made. Three large rivers had been 
 crossed — forests traversed — and through rain and 
 mud, and over frost and ice, Greene had fled for 
 twenty days, baffling every attempt of his more pow- 
 erful antagonist to force him to a decisive action. 
 For the skill in which it was planned, the resolution 
 and energy with which it was carried through, and 
 the distance traversed, it stands alone in the annals 
 of our country, and will bear comparison with the 
 most renowned feats of ancient or modern times. It 
 covered Greene with more glory than a victory could 
 have done, and stamped him at once the great 
 commander. 
 
 Cornwallis, far from his reinforcements, and in the 
 heart of a hostile country, was now in a critical state. 
 Greene no sooner saw his enemy halt, than he pre- 
 pared to act on the offensive; and if the reinforce- 
 ments promised by Virginia had been ready, he could 
 easily have crushed him. His letters dated at this 
 time, show how his heart was wrung at the obstacles 
 thrown in his way. Bold and self-reliant, however, 
 he did not give way to despondency ; but the moment 
 Cornwallis began to retreat, threw out his light 
 troops in every direction, in order to harass his move- 
 ments ; and in five days himself crossed the Dan, and 
 proceeded to a place between Troublesome Creek and 
 Reedy Fork, where he established his camp. In the 
 meantime, the British commander found himself sur- 
 rounded by a cloud of republicans, who were inces- 
 santly driving in his pickets, beating up his quarters, 
 and keeping his camp in a constant trepidation. 
 
192 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 Tarleton, sent out with fire and sword, was com- 
 pelled precipitately to retrace his steps, followed 
 fiercely by Lee and Pickens, whose troops, in their 
 ardor, marched all night, guiding their steps through 
 the gloom by pine torches, and nearly succeeded in 
 capturing him. 
 
 Cornwallis, to whom a decisive battle had become 
 a matter of life and death, immediately started in 
 pursuit of Greene; hoping to fall on him before his 
 army, now rapidly swelling by reinforcements, 
 should become too formidable to assail. But 
 manceuvre baffled manoeuvre, and the wily American 
 turned and doubled on his adversary in such a way 
 as completely foiled all his plans. He changed his 
 camp every night, filling the Tories with alarm by 
 his omnipresent army, while his light troops, imi- 
 tating his example, were never to be found in the 
 same place for two days together. Cornwallis la- 
 bored like one in a dream, and knew not in what 
 direction to expect the blow that seemed ever ready 
 to fall. One day he would be told that his enemy 
 was in front; but before he had advanced far, he 
 would hear of him on his flanks, and again back to 
 his old quarters. His light troops were worn out 
 with constant exertions, his foraging parties cut off, 
 and he was gradually wearing away; while his ad- 
 versary, whose sleepless eye never for a moment lost 
 sight of him, was gradually augmenting his forces. 
 Never before had he found an enemy so diflicult to 
 'deal with; and there seemed no end to the web in 
 which it was sought to entangle him. At length, 
 however, hearing that a large body of reinforce- 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE I93 
 
 ments was coming up in a certain direction, he im- 
 mediately resolved to throw himself between them 
 and Greene, and thus force him to a battle or to 
 abandon his allies. But the American commander 
 understood his designs before they were put in exe- 
 cution, and by a skilful manoeuvre saved the rein- 
 forcements; while, to make the chagrin of Corn- 
 wallis still more galling, they just slipped through 
 his fingers. Other reinforcements now arriving 
 from Virginia, Greene saw his army swell to five 
 thousand five hundred men. This was larger, nu- 
 merically, than the force opposed to him; but most 
 of them were raw recruits. Still, he determined 
 with these to risk a battle, for he knew that it was 
 the largest army he could hope to raise, and that he 
 could not long hold even this number together. 
 For two months in the heart of winter he had kept 
 manoeuvring, marching, and countermarching, re- 
 treating and advancing, until the time had come for 
 striking a blow or abandoning the attempt forever. 
 He might not win the victory, but he would cripple 
 his adversary, so that he would be compelled to quit 
 the field. With these views and this determination, 
 he gave his troops a little repose, and his raw recruits 
 a little discipline, and then started for Guilford 
 Court House. Cornwallis, after his last attempt to 
 cut ofT the American reinforcements, had retired, so - 
 that Greene's march was unobstructed. 
 
 BATTLE OF GUILFORD 
 
 On the 14th of March he halted his army at Guil- 
 ford, where he had formerly examined the ground, 
 
 A. B., VOL. III. — 13 
 
194 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 with the intention of making it, some day, a battle- 
 field. The solitary building, called the court-house, 
 stood on a hill in the centre of a small clearing. It 
 was a lonely spot, not another house was in sight; 
 and a limitless forest stretched away on every side, 
 broken only here and there by a patch of cultivated 
 ground, which some adventurous settler had made. 
 In front of the building was a belt of forest, and be- 
 yond it and parallel to it a long narrow cornfield. 
 Along the farther edge of the field ran a rivulet. 
 The road passed by the court-house through the belt 
 of forest, and across the centre of the cornfield, and 
 finally lost itself in the woods beyond, from which 
 the enemy were to emerge. On the morning of the 
 15th of March, 1781, the drums beat their reveille 
 early, and Greene drew up his men in three lines on 
 this secluded spot, which, before night, was to be 
 strewed with the dead. Along the edge of the piece 
 of wood, behind a fence, and facing the cornfield, 
 he placed the North Carolina militia. In the wood, 
 about fifty rods in the rear, he stationed the Virginia 
 militia, under Stevens and Lawson ; both these lines 
 extended across the road. Four hundred yards be- 
 hind these, on the hill around the court-house, were 
 ranged the brave continentals, commanded by 
 Greene in person. Two roads leading away from 
 the court-house, in the rear, furnished a secure re- 
 treat. Thus strongly posted, with Lee's legion and 
 some infantry covering the left flank, and Washing- 
 ton's heavy mounted dragoons the right, he waited 
 the approach of the enemy. 
 
 It was a clear bright day as ever blessed the 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE I95 
 
 earth ; the bracing air just stirred the tree-tops over 
 the soldiers' heads, and all was beautiful and spring- 
 like. Early in the forenoon scouts returned with 
 the news that the British were advancing, and that 
 gallant army stood to arms, and looked long and 
 eagerly down the road along which they were to 
 come. Noon came, and still the forest was silent 
 and slumberous. But at length, about one o'clock, 
 strains of martial music were heard in the distance, 
 struggling up from the tree-tops, and soon the sharp 
 rattle of the drum, and the shrill tones of the fife and 
 horn broke with startling distinctness on the ear, and 
 then the head of the column began slowly to emerge 
 into view. Two pieces of artillery under Singleton 
 had been advanced along the road, and now opened 
 on the approaching mass. Cornwallis immediately 
 brought forward his artillery, and a fierce cannonade 
 commenced. Under cover of the smoke of his guns, 
 he pushed his columns across the brook into the corn- 
 field, where, deploying rapidly to the right and left, 
 they formed in order of battle. Relying on the dis- 
 cipline of his troops, he formed them into a single 
 line, without any reserve, resolved, by one terrible 
 onset, to sweep the field. The Carolina militia 
 looked in terror over the cornfield before them, red 
 with the scarlet uniforms. The steady tread of the 
 advancing battalions, the long lines of light made by 
 the glittering bayonets over their heads, the banners 
 floating in the breeze, and the loud strains of mar- 
 tial music, drowned ever and anon by the roar of 
 cannon, conspired to render it a scene that might awe 
 even more veteran hearts. 
 
196 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 On, on they came, with the terrible front of battle, 
 unchecked by the distant random shots of some of 
 the miHtia, until they approached within a few rods, 
 when they halted, and, at the word of command, 
 poured in a simultaneous volley — then throwing 
 their bayonets forward, rushed, with loud shouts, 
 to the charge. The poor militia, frightened half out 
 of their senses by this sudden and awful onset, for- 
 got, many of them, to fire at all, and dropping their 
 guns, knapsacks, canteens and everything, took 
 to their heels like a flock of sheep. Greene had not 
 calculated on their firing more than four or five 
 rounds; but this was dastardly. Their officers 
 strove bravely to rally them, seizing those nearest 
 with their hands, entreating and threatening by 
 turns, while Lee spurred among them with his drawn 
 sabre, swearing he would ride them down with his 
 terrible legion if they did not halt. It was all in 
 vain, utter terror had seized them ; and they swarmed 
 in affright through the woods, back to the second 
 line. The Virginians, untouched by the panic, 
 taunted them as they fled through, and railed on 
 them as cowards and poltroons ; then bravely turned 
 to meet the shock. Stevens had taken care his 
 militia should not serve him as they did at Camden, 
 and posted forty riflemen in the rear, with orders to 
 shoot down the first man who should attempt to run. 
 
 The British, elated by their first success, sent up 
 a loud huzza, and pressed furiously forward upon 
 the second line. In a moment the woods were red 
 with the scarlet uniforms as they swept, in one broad 
 wave, up to the Virginians; but a deadly volley re- 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE "^ 1 97 
 
 ceiyed them, and huge gaps opened in their files. 
 Unable to stand this galling fire, they sprang for- 
 ward with the bayonet, and with levelled pieces, and 
 steady front, moved against the undisciplined militia 
 — but not a rank broke, not a battalion fled. Op- 
 posing steel to steel, and in the intervals pouring in 
 their rapid volleys, they held, for a long time, the 
 whole British army in check. At length, however, 
 forced back by superior numbers, the right wing, 
 still hanging together, swung slowly round, on the 
 centre as a pivot, until it reached the road, then broke 
 and fled. The left wing, in the woods, on the oppo- 
 site side of the road, still maintained the combat. 
 Greene, now seeing that the battle was to be thrown 
 upon him — as that part of the British army opposed 
 to the routed right wing, following up their victory, 
 emerged into view — rode along the lines, telling the 
 soldiers that all now rested on them. '' Be firm and 
 steady," said he, " and give the finishing blow." 
 On came the unbroken British line, and drew up in 
 order on the open ground in front of those stern 
 continentals. The next moment, with a loud shout 
 and terrible impetuosity, they rushed to the charge. 
 Cool and steady, those brave regulars watched their 
 approach, undismayed by their shouts and fierce as- 
 pect, until within sure striking distance, and then 
 poured a destructive volley in their very bosoms. 
 Stunned by the terrific discharge, the solid formations 
 recoiled a moment, and before they could recover the 
 Americans were upon them with the bayonet. 
 Shouting like madmen, they swept through the cov- 
 ering smoke and random discharges like a resistless 
 
198 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 tide. Nothing could check the fury of their onset; 
 and through and through the broken ranks they 
 went, with the strength of a falhng mountain. Oh ! 
 that Washington's cavah-y or Lee's legion had then 
 been ready to burst on the shattered line, or even 
 another regiment to follow up the victory, and the 
 red field would have been won. Yet still, onward 
 swept that victorious regiment of Marylanders, 
 chasing the fugitives before them. Suddenly turn- 
 ing upon the first battalion of the guards, before 
 whom their companions had fled in terror, they fell 
 on it with such fury that they shivered it in pieces 
 with one fell blow; and then, without taking time 
 to breathe, rushed on the others. The conflict here 
 became dreadful. That brave regiment, disdaining 
 to fly, bore up against the overwhelming numbers 
 that increased as it advanced, and was still maintain- 
 ing its ground, when Washington, seeing how hard 
 beset it was, ordered the bugles to sound, and the 
 next moment the ground shook under the steady gal- 
 lop of his squadron, as with shaking sabres and loud 
 shouts they burst on the enemy. In vain did those 
 veterans close up their ranks to meet the shock, and 
 surround themselves with a girdle of steel — in vain 
 did their officers shout : " Be steady and firm ; " over 
 and through everything went the fierce riders, 
 trampling them down like grass. Stuart, who led 
 them on, strove manfully to rally them to the charge, 
 and as he moved about in the tumult, came upon 
 Captain Smith of those glorious Marylanders, and 
 sprang fiercely upon him. The latter, parrying the 
 Englishman's small-sword with his left hand, brought 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE 1 99 
 
 down his heavy sabre on his head with such force 
 that he cleaved him to the spine. The next moment, 
 stunned by a musket-ball, though not killed, he fell 
 on his antagonist. Scarcely had he touched the 
 body, before the soldier who had fired the shot also 
 fell across him. Nothing could now stay the excited 
 Americans ; and Washington's cavalry plunged amid 
 the disordered guards, striking them down with their 
 heavy sabres at every step. The battle seemed won ; 
 and Cornwallis, who saw the rout of his guards, 
 spurred towards them. Washington, beholding 
 him, pointed forward with his sword, and shouted 
 to his men to follow. Pressing close after him, they 
 dashed onward, and the great prize was almost 
 within their grasp, when Washington's cap falling 
 from his head, he dismounted to pick it up. At the 
 same moment the officer at the head of the column, 
 shot through the body, reeled in his saddle; while 
 his horse, now unmanageable, turned and carried 
 him off the field. The squadron, seeing one leader 
 down, and the other riding away, thought a retreat 
 had been sounded, and wheeled after the latter. In 
 a moment, however, Washington came galloping up, 
 and with a loud voice arrested their retreat, and 
 again led them to the charge. But Cornwallis had 
 retired, and so Washington fell again upon the 
 guards, breaking to pieces every formation, and rid- 
 ing down every incipient square. The British com- 
 mander saw at a glance that this rout of his guards 
 must be arrested, or the whole army ruined; and 
 hastening to his artillery, that crowned a slight emi- 
 nence, he ordered it to open on the driving mass. 
 
200 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 '' Stop'' said one of the leaders of that broken band, 
 who had been borne back dreadfully wounded from 
 the fight, " you will destroy your own men." " We 
 must do it/' replied Cornwallis, '' to save ourselves 
 from destruction:' The flying guards were now 
 mingled up with their pursuers so completely, that 
 every shot aimed at the latter would strike them also. 
 But stern necessity required the sacrifice, and the 
 next moment the artillery opened like a clap of thun- 
 der, and the heavy shot went tearing through the 
 bleeding guards with frightful effect. The wounded 
 oflicer turned away sick from the murderous spec- 
 tacle, but Cornwallis gazed sternly on the slaughter, 
 and still kept up that heavy fire, till half the battalion 
 was stretched on the field. This checked the pur- 
 suers, who were compelled to retreat, but not the 
 battle. Volleys of musketry, interrupted by explo- 
 sions of artillery, kept the atmosphere in an uproar ; 
 while charging cavalry, and shouting infantry — 
 firm-set columns, and broken ranks — horses gallop- 
 ing riderless over the plain, and heaps of dead, com- 
 bined to make that lonely spot, and that bright after- 
 noon, a scene and time of thrilling interest and 
 terror. 
 
 No sooner had Cornwallis cleared the field with 
 his artillery than the routed troops began to rally — 
 some behind ravines, and some in the woods ; while 
 those regiments yet unbroken were moved forward. 
 In the woods, on the left, Lee and Campbell still 
 maintained the fight, and had done so from the out- 
 set, sternly refusing to yield one inch of ground. 
 They and their foes were both out of sight, but the 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE 201 
 
 incessant and fierce disdharges that rung through 
 the forest, and the wounded officers and men borne 
 constantly back, told how close and dreadful was the 
 struggle. But no news came from Lee. That gal- 
 lant chieftain was straining every nerve to hold his 
 position, ignorant of what had befallen the other 
 portions of the army. Greene, in the meantime, 
 could not advance with his few unbroken regiments 
 on the whole British force, protected as it was by 
 cannon, without risking all on one hazardous throw. 
 But this was the game for Cornwallis to play not for 
 him ; it was victory or ruin with the former, and at 
 length, by incredible efforts, he succeeded in forming 
 his line of battle anew, and again steadily advanced. 
 Discipline had restored to him all his unwounded 
 men; while Greene surveyed, with an anxious eye, 
 the few regiments on which alone he could rely. 
 Though burning to renew the conflict, he dared not 
 trust again his militia, who had been broken at the 
 outset, and so he ordered a retreat While it could be 
 safely made. Silence had now fallen on the field, 
 and all was still, save the beating to arms and the 
 incessant volleys from the woods on the left, from 
 whence no tidings reached Greene. 
 
 The moment the former began his retreat, Corn- 
 wallis sent forward two regiments to break the rear- 
 guard; but the brave Virginians who composed it 
 received them with such a scourging fire, and con- 
 stantly presented such a firm front, that they soon 
 gave it up, and the army retired three miles and 
 halted. 
 
 The bright Spring sun had now gone down in a 
 
202 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 mass of clouds, and the wind began to moan through 
 the forest, foretelHng a storm. After a few hours' 
 repose, the weary army, in a cold and driving rain, 
 again took up its line of march for its old encamp- 
 ment at Reedy Fork. All night long the bleeding 
 patriots continued to press forward, with the storm 
 beating upon them; and wet and exhausted, and 
 many of them barefoot, reached, at daybreak, their 
 camp. One cannot thirik of those brave continen- 
 tals, and Virginia troops, measuring the heavy miles 
 back from the battle which they had struggled so 
 nobly to win, without the most painful feelings. 
 Deserted by their own friends, they had, neverthe- 
 less, resolutely and gallantly met the onset of the 
 whole British army; — then, stung with disappoint- 
 ment, and venting their rage on the cowardly Caro- 
 linians, closed their toilsome day by a heavy night- 
 march. Many a noble heart lay cold and still on the 
 field where they had struggled — here you could see 
 the track of Washing'ton's cavalry by the ghastly 
 Scibre-strokes that disfigured the dead ; and there by 
 the heaps of the slain, where the gallant Maryland 
 regiment, after it had broken to pieces one, a third 
 larger than its own, met the guards in full career. 
 Around the court-house the ground was red with 
 blood, and American and Briton lay almost in each 
 other's embrace. But amid the piles of the slain 
 there were two scarlet uniforms to one of the conti- 
 nentals. Our unerring marksmen had made terrible 
 havoc, and one-quarter* of Cornwallis's army had 
 fallen on the field he had won. No wonder Fox said 
 * Six hundred killed and wounded. 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE 203 
 
 on the floor of the House of Commons, when the 
 victory was announced : " Another such victory will 
 ruin the British armyf' 
 
 The troops under Greene, so far from being dis- 
 pirited, were full of confidence and courage, and de- 
 manded eagerly to be led immediately against the 
 enemy. Those who had fought bravely panted to 
 re-measure their strength with the foe; while the 
 regiments which had made such a shameful flight, 
 stung by the reproaches of their comrades, earnestly 
 asked for an opportunity to wipe out the disgrace. 
 How different was the state of Cornwallis. He had 
 taken nothing but three pieces of artillery, which 
 could not be brought off except by hand, as the 
 horses had been shot down, and so left behind ; while 
 encumbered with the wounded, and diminished in his 
 strength, he lost all power to maintain his ground. 
 No sooner, therefore, had he collected his wounded, 
 than he began a precipitate retreat. His victory had 
 been so dearly bought, that nothing but a rapid flight 
 could save him. 
 
 This battle, so admirably planned, would have 
 finished at once the career of the British commander, 
 had all of the American troops behaved even with 
 ordinary bravery. If the first line had poured in but 
 one well-directed volley, the English army would 
 have been shaken, and handed over to the second line 
 disordered, or at least, discouraged, instead of fresh 
 and excited, as it was ; and by the time it reached the 
 court-house, the fate of the day would have been 
 settled. Or, had the second regiment of the Mary- 
 landers showed but half the firmness their comrades 
 
204 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 of the first did, the victory would have been com- 
 plete. Greene reckoned, and not without cause, on 
 the good conduct of this regiment; but instead of 
 meeting the grenadiers of the guards with courage, 
 they turned and fled at the first fire, leaving all the 
 work to their companions, who had just broken one 
 regiment into fragments. It was expected that the 
 Carolina militia, unaccustomed to battle, would make 
 but a feeble resistance ; but the failure of this body 
 was a grievous disappointment, and left but a small 
 band on which the American commander could rely. 
 When Greene beheld it, he hastened forward, and in 
 his eagerness came near being taken prisoner; for, 
 in approaching the spot where the conflict was rag- 
 ing, he suddenly found himself upon the enemy, and 
 screened from them only by a few saplings. His 
 danger was imminent; but with that presence of 
 mind which never deserted him, he walked away 
 quietly so as not to attract attention and provoke pur- 
 suit. His whole plan exhibited the greatest genius 
 and daring combined; and as it was, he gained all 
 that a mere victory would have given him. An 
 utter rout would have finished the campaign ; but he 
 could scarcely hope for this with the troops under 
 him. 
 
 Still, undaunted by his reverse, he determined 
 after giving his men a short repose to hazard another 
 battle. In the meantime, he heard of the flight of 
 his enemy, and was about to start in rapid pursuit, 
 when, to his dismay, he found that his ammunition 
 was nearly exhausted. This saved the victor from a 
 complete overthrow ;and those brave ofiicerswho had 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE 205 
 
 struggled so nobly, were compelled to remain inac- 
 tive. Washington, and Lee, and Campbell, and 
 Smith, and Howard, and Stevens, and Huger, and 
 last and noblest, Gunby, and many others, had won 
 for themselves an immortal name, but they were im- 
 patient for another trial. 
 
 As soon as he was able to make a demonstration, 
 Greene sent forward Lee to hang on the rear of the 
 crippled enemy, and immediately followed with his 
 whole army. Nothing could shake the iron will of 
 this man, or for a moment relax his energy. To- 
 day retreating, to-morrow advancing — now pouring 
 his columns to the charge, and now conducting them 
 bleeding, through the storm and darkness, to a place 
 of safety; and again, with scarcely a day's repose, 
 breaking into a furious offensive — he exhibits all the 
 qualities of a headlong warrior, and of a careful, 
 great commander. 
 
 The British fled towards Wilmington, and Greene 
 thundered in their rear. The former dared not haz- 
 ard a battle, and pressed forward towards Deep 
 River, and halting at Ramsey's Mills, threw a bridge 
 across the stream, and waited the approach of the 
 Americans. Greene, who had been detained a day, 
 in order to bring up his ammunition, urged his 
 weary troops along the muddy roads, and at length 
 approached the river. But Cornwallis had changed 
 his mind, and without waiting to receive the attack, 
 hurried his army across the bridge, and attempted 
 to destroy it. But before he could effect his object^ 
 Lee burst on him with his legion, and he was com- 
 pelled to seek safety in precipitate flight, leaving 
 
206 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 some of his dead on the banks, and the beef his men 
 had killed hanging in the stalls. But here the 
 troops, overcome by their rapid marches and long 
 toils, and seeing the enemy again beyond their reach, 
 refused to proceed any farther. No entreaties or 
 remonstrance could prevail on them to stir; for the 
 term of enlistment of many of them had expired, and 
 they were far from their homes. Thus fell a second 
 blow on the heart of this indomitable chieftain, and 
 he was compelled to see his adversary withdraw in 
 security. Still, could one have looked upon that 
 army, he would scarcely blame them. Barefoot, 
 half-clad, and without provisions, they had marched, 
 fought, and retreated, and suffered, and now needed 
 repose. Their iron leader could not expect from 
 them what he himself would undertake, and he was 
 forced to halt. With the most strenuous exertions, 
 he could not get a supply of provisions; and the 
 brave fellows, gnawed by the pangs of hunger, 
 seized on the most disgusting food with avidity, but 
 not a murmur escaped their lips. They loved their 
 chieftain with devotion, for he asked nothing from 
 them he did not himself cheerfully encounter; and 
 many a night they had seen him drenched and worn, 
 riding in their midst, encouraging their spirits, and 
 rousing their patriotism. And now, as their term 
 of service expired, he called them out, and, after 
 thanking them for their bravery and cheerful co- 
 operation, dismissed them to their homes. With 
 loud cheers they hailed him, as he rode along their 
 lines, and then commenced their weary journey to 
 their distant fire-sides. 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE 20/ 
 
 With his army reduced to one-third of its size, no 
 other course seemed left open to him but to take 
 some central position, and watch the enemy. Corn- 
 wallis was beyond his reach if he attempted a pur- 
 suit; besides, he was too weak to risk a battle with 
 him. He had accomplished all that could be done 
 with an inferior force — out-manoeuvred and 
 thwarted his enemy till he could raise reinforce- 
 ments — then fallen on him with terrible slaughter, 
 and pursued him as long as an efficient army was 
 left under his command, and now it was time to 
 pause and reflect. What could be done in his crip- 
 pled condition and destitute state? The gates of 
 success, and even action, seemed shut upon him, but 
 his genius struck out a plan as original as it was 
 bold. With his little band he resolved to carry the 
 war into South Carolina, and fall on the line of the 
 enemy's posts established between Ninety-Six and 
 Charleston. These were all well garrisoned and 
 fortified; but if they could be taken, the base of 
 Cornwallis's operations would be destroyed. Still 
 it was a hazardous experiment ; for if the latter, with 
 his superior army, should follow him up, he would 
 be crushed between it and the garrisons ; but relying 
 on his own resources and the confusion into which 
 his sudden movements would throw his adversary, 
 he set out on his desperate undertaking. Only a 
 week's repose was given to the soldiers, and then a 
 series of toils entered upon, to which all they had be- 
 fore suffered was but a commencement. He had 
 calculated all beforehand, and said : " I knozv the 
 troops will be exposed to every hardship. But, as I 
 
208 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 share it zvith them, I hope they zvill bear up under 
 it zvith that inagnaniinity zvhich has already sup- 
 ported them, ami for zvhich they deserve everything 
 of their country/' Secretly and carefully the army 
 took up its line of march, and in twelve days reached 
 Camden, where Lord Rawdon lay, strongly fortified. 
 
 BATTLE OF HOBKIRK's HILL 
 
 Greene took up his position on Hobkirk's Hill, 
 about two miles north of the town, and remained 
 there three days ; when, hearing that a British rein- 
 forcement was coming up, he hastened to cut it off. 
 Finding, after a fatiguing march, that the report 
 was unfounded, he retraced his steps, and, on the 
 25th of April, again drew up his little army, scarce 
 a thousand strong, in order of battle on Hobkirk's 
 Hill. The troops, who had now been twenty-four 
 hours without food, were hastily supplied, and sat 
 scattered around in every direction, cooking it, when 
 the fire from the vedettes in the distance announced 
 the approach of the enemy. Greene was at the time 
 in his tent, drinking a cup of coffee. In a moment 
 he was in the saddle, his eye gleaming in exultation 
 and confidence. The drums beat to arms — the hun- 
 gry soldiers came rushing back to their posts — the 
 stern order passed along the lines, and in a few min- 
 utes they stood prepared for the onset. The road 
 ran directly through the American encampment, on 
 each side of which extended the army in a single 
 line, one wing resting on a swamp, the other lost in 
 the woods. The artillery occupied the road, while 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE 209 
 
 two hundred and fifty militia, and Washington's 
 cavalry, were stationed in the rear, as a reserve. 
 For awhile all was silent around that little army 
 cresting the hill; and they stood and listened anx- 
 iously to the firing in the forest, as the picket 
 guards, retreating inch by inch, kept up a sharp fire 
 on the advancing columns. Nothing could be seen 
 except the smoke as it curled up over the tree-tops, 
 revealing the struggle below, and all was breathless 
 suspense, until at length the enemy emerged into the 
 open ground, right in front of the height. The 
 moment Greene's eye fell upon them, he saw that the 
 narrowness of their front gave him a rare opportu- 
 nity for a flank movement, and he resolved to over- 
 throw them by one fell swoop. '' Let Campbell and 
 Ford turn their Hanks, the cavalry take them in the 
 rear, and the centre charge zvith trailed bayonets/' 
 fell, in a single breath, from his lips ; and swinging 
 down round the enemy, the whole army precipitated 
 itself forward. The artillery opened, followed by 
 the rapid volleys of the infantry ; and, in a moment, 
 the field was in a blaze. Washington went gallop- 
 ing by a circuitous route to the rear ; while that reso- 
 lute line closed like the hand of fate around the 
 British column. Thrown into confusion by the 
 searching fire, and rolling back before the steadily 
 advancing bayonets, the enemy began to break on all 
 sides, and one more bold push and the day would 
 be won. Greene, at the head of a single regiment, 
 foug'ht like the meanest soldier, and led the intrepid 
 band steadily through the fire that wasted it. But 
 in this critical moment, the veteran regiment of 
 
 A. B., VOL. III. — 14 
 
2IO AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 Gunby, which had wrought such prodigies at Guil- 
 ford, gave way; and Rawdon, rallying at the sight, 
 rapidly extended his lines — pushing back the wings 
 of the Americans, until, at length, the two armies 
 stood front to front. Greene, broken-hearted at the 
 flight of his favorite regiment, on which he had 
 placed his hopes, galloped up to it, and sending his 
 stern commands through the ranks, again rallied 
 them ; but it was too late. Spurring his steed up the 
 hill, he cast his eye on the conflict beneath, and lo ! 
 all was lost. His centre was pierced, the artillery 
 pushed back, and the enemy, with loud shouts, were 
 rolling in one broad wave up the hill. His fond 
 hopes were all blasted ; and the irretrievable rout of 
 his army burst like a thunder-clap upon him. In- 
 stantly ordering a retreat, he covered it with a sin- 
 gle regiment; and spurring amid the bullets which 
 rained in an incessant shower about him, succeeded 
 in restoring partial order. In the meantime his ar- 
 tillery was almost within the enemy's grasp. The 
 men had left the guns, and had just turned to flee, 
 when Greene burst in a fierce gallop among them, 
 and leaping from his horse, seized the drag- 
 ropes himself. This heroic example shamed the 
 men into courage, and they flew again to their places. 
 At this critical moment Smith came up with forty- 
 five of the camp-guards to their defence. On this 
 little band, drawn up behind the guns, the British 
 charged with both infantry and cavalry, and in a few 
 minutes the Americans, though they fought with in- 
 credible fury, were reduced to fourteen ; the next mo- 
 ment, having fired simultaneously, the cavalry was 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE 211 
 
 Upon them while in the act of loading, and every 
 man of them fell dead in his footsteps. The artil- 
 lery seemed now irretrievably lost;but before the vic- 
 tors could secure their prize, Washington burst upon 
 them witii his fierce riders, trampling them under 
 foot, and scattering them like leaves from his path. 
 In the outset of the battle he had reached, as he was 
 ordered, the rear of the army, where he came upon 
 a motley group of surgeons and attendants, and so 
 forth, which he should have rode down without hesi- 
 tation, and charged home upon the main body of the 
 enemy. This, however, his generous heart forbade 
 him to do, and while he was securing the prisoners 
 the battle was lost. Had he rode steadily forward, 
 he might have compensated for the failure of Gunby. 
 But the fortunate moment had passed, and finding 
 that Greene had been beaten back, he made good his 
 retreat, and arrived just in time to save the artillery. 
 Each man had his prisoner behind him, and thus, 
 riding double, they came upon the enemy — but it 
 was the wor'k of only a moment for those bold 
 dragoons to tumble each of those prisoners off, 
 and then, with a shout, rush to the charge. Having 
 rescued the artillery, Washington wheeled and fell 
 like a loosened cliff on the shouting and victorious 
 army, rolling it back on itself in utter amazement. 
 This checked the pursuit, and Greene withdrew with- 
 out further attack. 
 
 The grand cause of the failure was the unexpected 
 retreat of Gunby's regiment ; though the brave fel- 
 lows who composed it were not to blame. As they 
 were advancing, the first line, instead of charging 
 
2 12 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 bayonet, began to fire — this being arrested, they 
 marched on down the hill, when the captain com- 
 manding the right fell dead. This caused a little 
 confusion, though not a company retreated, or even 
 halted. Gunby, seeing there was some little dis- 
 order, and fearing it might increase, ordered the line 
 to halt until the second line could close in at quick- 
 step. He shouted this command at the top of his 
 voice ; but amid the noise of battle, it was not under- 
 stood ; and the soldiers, mistaking it for an order to 
 retreat, turned and fled. Gunby was court-mar- 
 tialled for his conduct, and severely reprimanded. It 
 was clear that he ought not to have halted his men, 
 but kept them moving till the second line advanced 
 to their aid. This reversing orders and confusing 
 the soldiers in the very moment of attack, is the most 
 ruinous thing that can be done. 
 
 Greene retreated only a few miles after the battle, 
 hoping that Rawdon would be encouraged to a sec- 
 ond attack ; but he wisely forbore, and shut himself 
 up in Camden. 
 
 Never was the former in a more critical situation 
 than at this moment. The blow he had planned so 
 secretly, and planted so skilfully, had not only failed, 
 but waked up the enemy in every quarter to his de- 
 signs. Cornwallis, when he heard of it, knew that 
 his line of posts was threatened, and revolved long 
 and anxiously his course. First he determined to 
 push on after his daring and adventurous adversary, 
 and overwhelm him ; but finally turned his steps to 
 Virginia, to close his career at Yorktown. In the 
 meantime, reinforcements were hurrying up to Raw- 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE 213 
 
 don from Georgetown. On these Marion and Lee 
 hung with threatening aspect, but they finally suc- 
 ceeded in reaching Camden. With his little desti- 
 tute army about him, Greene now felt the full peril 
 of his position, and, for the first time during the 
 campaign, his strong heart sunk in despondency. 
 Rawdon was within striking distance of him, with a 
 large force, while word was brought that Cornwallis 
 was marching rapidly against him. His ammuni- 
 tion was exhausted, his recruits destitute of arms, 
 and Congress seemed to have abandoned him to his 
 fate. Deserted, impoverished, almost surrounded — 
 with only a small half-naked band around him, he 
 for a moment bent under this accumulation of 
 troubles, and the tide of despondency his iron will 
 had so long kept 'back, flowed in one resistless flood 
 over his manly heart. He drank deep of the cup 
 of bitterness, and a heavy cloud rested on his brow 
 as he sought in vain to pierce the gloom that sur- 
 rounded him. It was, however, but a moment, and 
 his strong nature roused itself to grapple with the 
 difficulties that beset him. '' We zvill dispute every 
 inch of ground," said he, " though Lord Rawdon, I 
 knozv, zvill push me hack to the mountains." 
 
 The news of Cornwallis's march to Virginia, 
 saved him this alternative, and allowed him to carry 
 out his original plan. Rawdon, seeing that despatch 
 alone could save his garrisons south, immediately 
 broke up his encampment at Camden; and having 
 destroyed his stores and fortifications, and with the 
 blazing town, which he had fired, to light his path, 
 began his rapid march towards Fort Motte. 
 
214 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 Thither, als'o, Greene hastened, to save Marlon and 
 Lee, Who were pressing the siege. Both command- 
 ers, one with alarm and the other with joy, heard, 
 just before they reached it, that it had surrendered 
 to our arms. This fort occupied a sort of middle 
 position, between Ninety-Six on the extreme north- 
 west and Charleston on the extreme southeast ; hence 
 its fall broke the chain of posts completely. 
 
 The field was now open again to Greene, and send- 
 ing forward Lee against Fort Granby, he followed 
 in rapid marches with the main army. On ap- 
 proaching the place, he found it already in the hands 
 of Lee. His face brightened up at the news — the 
 morning was dawning, and a few more efforts, and 
 lo ! the sun of prosperity would rise. Hurrying on 
 Lee, to unite with Pic'kens, now before Augusta, he 
 turned his steps towards Ninety-Six, the last and 
 strongest fortress. The garrison had been ordered 
 long before to withdraw, but the messenger who 
 bore the despatch was captured, and Cruger, who 
 commanded, was left to defend himself as he could. 
 
 STORMING OF NINETY-SIX. 
 
 On the 22d of May, after a fatiguing march, 
 Greene found himself before the fort, and immediate- 
 ly began his approaches. With Kosciusko and Pen- 
 dleton, he made the entire circuit of the fortifications, 
 going so near that he was fired upon by the sentinels. 
 First came a heavy redoubt surrounded with a ditch 
 and frieze, and an abatis. A few rods distant, was 
 a stockade fort, supported by two strong block- 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE 215 
 
 houses — the whole defended by a well-supplied garri- 
 son. On the 23d, Greene broke ground, and pushed 
 his operations on with the utmost vigor — day and 
 night, without a moment's intermission, the spade 
 and pick-axe were heard in the trenches. Sally 
 after sally was made by the enemy, and a fierce fire 
 kept up, but still the resolute workmen toiled on. 
 Lee having failed before Augusta, now came up with 
 his legion, and invested the stockade fort, and soon 
 cut off the supply of water — the guns had been si- 
 lenced before. Day after day the work went on, and 
 closer and closer drew the toils around the garrison. 
 All that bravery and resolution could do, had been 
 done, and for eighteen days they had made desperate 
 efforts to arrest the progress of the besiegers. But 
 now the scene was drawing to a close, and in a few 
 days more the fortress must fall. 
 
 At this critical juncture, news arrived of the rapid 
 approach of Rawdon by forced marches, to relieve 
 the garrison. Greene strained every nerve to bring 
 up Marion, and Sumpter, and Pickens, that he might 
 meet his enemy once more in the open field. '' Let 
 us have a field day," said he, " and I doubt not it 
 will be a glorious one." Vain wish ! the British com- 
 mander knew that everything depended on celerity, 
 and he soon was upon him with double the number 
 of his army. Nothing now remained but to retreat; 
 but this the soldiers could not bear to think of after 
 all their toil, and begged so earnestly to be led to the 
 assault, that Greene at length consented. He would 
 not cripple his whole army by a general storm, and 
 so he directed some picked regiments to make the 
 
2l6 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 attempt first on the stockade fort. On the 17th of 
 June, the regiments destined to the assault stood to 
 their arms — the forlorn-hopes took their stations; 
 while fascines, with which to fill up the ditch, and 
 hookmen, with long iron hooks, to pull down the 
 sand-bags that lined the ramparts, completed the 
 stern preparation. The riflemen were in their tow- 
 ers, and the artillery was trained on the fort. At 
 eleven o'clock the first cannon was fired, and the men 
 sprung into the trenches; then the whole opened at 
 once, the signal for the assault, and amid the roar of 
 artillery, and peals of musketry, the brave fellows, 
 with one fierce shout, plunged into the ditch, and 
 began to climb the walls. In a moment a dreadful 
 volley swept them down, yet they still pressed on 
 jover their dead companions, and mounted the ram- 
 parts against the line of bayonets that bristled above 
 them. The fort was gallantly won, but the redoubt 
 continued to hold out, and poured an incessant, gall- 
 ing fire on the Americans who crowded the ditch. 
 But not a man yielded, and the assault was pressed 
 with desperate impetuosity. But the ditch was too 
 deep, and the parapets too high, and all efforts to 
 scale them were unavailing. For a whole hour had 
 this deadly conflict continued, before Greene ordered 
 the troops to be withdrawn. He had won the stock- 
 ade fort, and might yet win all ; but he was afraid 
 to risk his entire army, when Lord Rawdon was al- 
 most upon him. The assault had been nobly made, 
 and the soldiers behaved with the courage of veteran 
 troops, and it was with despondency and gloom they 
 heard the orders to retreat. They had been nearly a 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE 217 
 
 month laboring to secure the prize, and now they 
 were compelled to abandon it — with heavy hearts 
 they beheld the ramparts, still red with the blood of 
 their comrades, fade away in the distance. 
 
 Rawdon came rapidly up, and, passing the fort, 
 pressed hard after Greene; but after marching 
 twenty-two miles, his overtasked troops gave out, 
 and he returned. Ordering Ninety-Six to be evacu- 
 ated, he began his retreat, harassed at every step by 
 Lee, who kept dealing blow after blow, and yet re- 
 ceiving none in return. In the track of the retreat- 
 ing army were crowds of men, women and children, 
 fleeing from the vengeance of the Whigs, whom they 
 had insulted, and robbed, and slain without mercy. 
 The day of retribution had come; and the panic- 
 struck wretches fled to Charleston, to escape the ven- 
 geance due to their crimes. 
 
 Greene no sooner saw his enemy retreat, than he 
 turned, with his usual daring, in pursuit. Following 
 rapidly on his flying traces, he again and again, by 
 his deep-laid plans and unwearied exertions, almost 
 captured a part of the army. Daunted by no danger, 
 overcome by no toil, never beguiled into repose, he 
 seemed omnipresent to his foe. At length, after hav- 
 ing forced him back at every point — Orangeburg 
 alone remaining occupied between him and the coast 
 — he resolved to rest his troops. The heat of sum- 
 mer had set in, and the suffering and exposure of his 
 men demanded some relief. Choosing out a salu- 
 brious position on the high hills of Santee, he went 
 into summer-quarters, and all the freedom and wild 
 mirth of a camp life commenced. But to Greene 
 
2l8 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 there was no repose ; and he immediately set about a 
 re-organization of the army. Congress, however, 
 could do nothing, and no money was sent him with 
 which to pay off the soldiers. Still, partial success 
 crowned his efforts — resulting from the re-establish- 
 ment of the civil power, which the presence of the 
 enemy had abolished. 
 
 As soon as he had rested his troops, he was again 
 in motion, saying, " We will seek the enemy wher- 
 ever we can find them, unless they take refuge with- 
 in the gates of Charleston." On the 22d of August 
 he broke up his encampment, and began his march, 
 looking anxiously for reinforcements, without which 
 he would be powerless. Said he, in writing to Lee : 
 *' We must have victory or ruin; nor zvill I spare any- 
 thing to obtain it." Pushing on under the broiling 
 August sun, he ordered in Pickens and Marion with 
 the troops under their command, and approached 
 Orangeburg. At length he heard that the enemy 
 had halted at Eutaw Springs, and immediately 
 moved forward to within seven miles, and halted. 
 Here Marion joined him ; and that night, the 7th of 
 September, the toil-worn chieftain wrapped himself 
 in his cloak, and slept on the ground, in the midst of 
 his soldiers, with the root of a tree for his pillow. 
 
 BATTLE OF EUTAW SPRINGS 
 
 With the first dawn tne drums beat to arms; but 
 Greene was already on horseback, and soon had his 
 troops under way. The eastern sky was red and 
 glowing with the near approach of the up-rising sun, 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE 219 
 
 and the dew-drops lay fresh and sparkling on the 
 foliage, as they passed through the forest. In two 
 columns — the militia under the gallant Marion and 
 Pickens, in front, and the brave continentals in the 
 rear, while Lee's fierce legion led the van, they moved 
 silently on. But, with the exception of the officers, 
 .there were few bright uniforms to be seen. Whole 
 ranks were barefoot and in rags, and hundreds were 
 stark naked, with nothing but tufts of moss on their 
 shoulders and hips, to keep their muskets and cart- 
 ridge-boxes from chafing their skins. It was a sight 
 to move the heart, to see those naked freemen press- 
 ing on to battle, under the flag of liberty. Greene 
 cast his anxious eye along the dark files, as they 
 swept noiselessly onward, feeling that a few hours 
 more would settle the fate of his army. The enemy 
 he was advancing against was not only superior in 
 numbers and discipline, but occupied an advanta- 
 geous position, while a large portion of his own sol- 
 diers had never been in action, and would be com- 
 pelled to take such ground as would be left them. 
 No wonder that his heart was filled with the deepest 
 solicitude, as he thought of the unequal contest he 
 was seeking. Still, a battle he must have, and a 
 victory too, cost what it might, before his troops 
 again disbanded. 
 
 About eight o'clock, when yet four miles from 
 Eutaw, the rolling of drums in the distance an- 
 nounced the approach of the enemy. It proved to be 
 only a detachment, which Lee's legion scattered be- 
 fore them like chaff of the summer threshing-floor. 
 The shouts that were sent back over the American 
 
220 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 columns, inspired new hope and courage, and they 
 pressed triumphantly forward. 
 
 The British army, under Stewart, lay at Eutaw 
 Springs, in an open field — the only one in the whole 
 region — protected on one side by the Eutaw creek, 
 while in the rear stood barns and out-houses, present- 
 ing a rallying point in case of disaster. Added to all 
 this, there was a strong brick house, commanding 
 the entire ground. This house was in fact an im- 
 pregnable fort, for the Americans had no artillery 
 heavy enough to batter it down. Through this open 
 space ran the road along which Greene was advanc- 
 ing. For miles away on either side, it was an un- 
 broken forest; and that sweet spot, resting in the 
 very bosom of nature, solitary and alone, was to be 
 the meeting-place of the armies. When the news of 
 Greene's approach was brought him, the English 
 commander was surprised, but immediately began to 
 put his army in order of battle. The tents were left 
 standing in the morning sunlight, and the troops 
 formed in a single line in front of them, and awaited 
 the onset. They had not long to remain in suspense, 
 for with streaming banners and glittering bayonets 
 the American columns came steadily on, and soon the 
 first line drew up face to face with the whole British 
 force, and the battle opened. Gaines, with the 
 American artillery, came sweeping in a gallop along 
 the road, and hastily unlimbering his guns, vomited 
 forth fire on the British line — the enemy's artillery 
 replied, and an incessant peal of thunder rolled 
 through the forests of Eutaw. The raw militia bore 
 up like veterans, and thougti outnumbered, two to 
 
NATHANIEL CIREENE 22 1 
 
 one, delivered their fire with such precision and 
 swiftness, as for a while to overbalance that of the 
 enemy. It ran in a sharp, quick rattle from one ex- 
 tremity of the line to the other, with deadly effect, 
 while the deep regular volleys of the English replied. 
 Greene's eye kindled with exultation as he saw how 
 firmly and resolutely his untried troops closed on the 
 foe. But at length the superior numbers of the 
 enemy began to tell, and they moved forward. The 
 militia shaking under the pressure, slowly recoiled 
 when Greene ordered up some of his own battalions 
 to their relief, which, led on by the gallant Sumner, 
 came into action in beautiful order, and delivered 
 such a scourging fire, and followed it up with such 
 rapidity and precision, that the English were com- 
 pelled to fall back to their first position, and the 
 battle raged again with tenfold fury. A part of the 
 artillery on both sides had been dismounted ; but the 
 rest kept thundering on in deafening explosions, till 
 the trees trembled and rocked above the combatants. 
 Finding his line pressed so hotly, the English com- 
 mander ordered up his reserve, and the entire army 
 was now engaged. Greene still kept by him two bat- 
 talions of continentals, the brave Marylanders and 
 Virginians, while Washington, with his fierce horse- 
 men panting for the fray, sat in the rear. With these 
 he had planned a terrible blow, but the moment to 
 deliver it had not yet arrived. His eye flashed fire 
 as he surveyed the tumultuous field, and he watched 
 with delight the advancing smoke of the American 
 volleys. Loud shouts were borne back to his ear, and 
 our gallant troops made head against the whole Brit- 
 
222 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 ish array. But superior numbers at length prevailed 
 — our line halted, and then, after a short struggle, 
 bent backward like a serpent of fire over the ground. 
 Vainly struggling to spring to its place again, it be- 
 came broken ; when, observing it, the whole English 
 army threw itself forward with deafening shouts. 
 But pressing up its advantage too eagerly, it became 
 disordered, which Greene's quick eye detected instan- 
 taneously. This was his time, and he shouted to his 
 brave continentals, '* Advance, and sweep the field 
 with the bayonet! ^^ A loud huzza was the answer; 
 and, with leaning forms and trailed bayonets, those 
 two terrible battalions moved swiftly and sternly for- 
 ward. In a moment the whole interest of the battle 
 gathered around them, and every eye was turned on 
 their ranks, as they came in beautiful order and stern 
 array within reach of the enemy's volleys. The Brit- 
 ish saw them approach without dismay, and sending 
 up a loud shout of defiance, poured in a rapid and 
 wasting fire. But nothing could stop those noble 
 troops — on, on they swept, shoulder to shoulder, 
 without shrinking, through the driving sleet. The 
 Virginians, galled dreadfully by the fire, gave one 
 volley, then rushed forward : but the stern Maryland- 
 ers never pulled a trigger. Their rapid tread shook 
 the field, their terrible shout drowned even the roar 
 of musketry, and with their eyes bent in wrath on the 
 enemy, they moved in one dark and dreadful wave 
 to the shock. Before their steady valor and deter- 
 mined aspect, the firmest veterans shrunk in dismay, 
 and with one loud cry they fell like a rolling rock on 
 the shaking ranks. Through and over them they 
 went with headlong fury, turning the whole army in 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE 223 
 
 affright over the field. Lee, too, came down on the 
 flank with his legion, and the bugles of Washington's 
 cavalry rung over the tumult, and their fierce gallop 
 made the earth tremble. The British army became 
 like a flock of sheep before them. Past and through 
 their camp, and along the road to Charleston, they 
 fled, leaving their tents standing on the plain, and all 
 seemed lost. But, alas ! that deserted camp, with its 
 luxuries, was more potent than when filled with war- 
 riors. Breaking from their ranks, the soldiers 
 swarmed through them after the spoils — all but Lee's 
 gallant legion, which turned neither to the right hand 
 nor to the left, but pressed fiercely on after the fugi- 
 tives. In this crisis, a few British soldiers, with 
 Sheridan at their head, threw themselves into the 
 brick house; and, though pressed so closely by the 
 Americans, that there was a desperate struggle at 
 the door for the mastery, they succeeded in shutting 
 themselves in. Many of their own officers and men, 
 however, were left without, whom the Americans 
 seized and held before them as they retreated, as 
 shields against the marksmen in the house. The ar- 
 tillery was hurried up, but proved to be too light to 
 batter down the walls, while from every window was 
 poured an incessant fire. It was then that those who 
 had broken their ranks and rushed into the tents, re- 
 ceived the punishment of their deeds. As fast as 
 they emerged into the open air, the deadly shots from 
 the house mowed them down, and many a gallant 
 officer, in striving to force his men out, was picked 
 off. Thus ingloriously fell those brave troops, who 
 had passed scathed through the fight. 
 
 Meanwhile, in an impenetrable thicket, which 
 
224 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 flanked the field of battle, there still remained a de- 
 tachment of upwards of three hundred British, whom 
 no effort could dislodge. Washington came thunder- 
 ing on them with his squadron, but he could not 
 pierce the hedge-like shrubbery. Halting to wheel 
 his men by sections into an open space where he 
 thought he could make a charge, such a destructive 
 fire was opened on him, that every officer but two, 
 and one-third of his entire squadron, fell at the first 
 volley. His own horse was shot under him, and him- 
 self bayoneted and taken prisoner. The remnants of 
 the shattered band, undismayed, wheeled and 
 charged with incredible fury. Vain valor! the 
 thicket was like a wall of adamant in their faces, and 
 the Delaware infantry brought up to their relief met 
 with no better success. The British officer who com- 
 manded that detachment, finding the Americans 
 slowly enveloping him, at length began to retreat, 
 hugging the thicket and ravine as he went, until he 
 came where the house protected him. This enabled 
 the British commander to form his line of battle 
 anew. But Greene had already gained enough to 
 secure his object. One-quarter of the whole English 
 army had fallen on the field dead or wounded, an- 
 other quarter he had taken prisoners; and this bril- 
 liant success he did not wish to risk in another en- 
 gagement, since he knew that his adversary would 
 be compelled to retreat. He had driven the enemy 
 from the field, taken a part of their artillery and a 
 quarter of their army, and crushed forever their 
 boasted superiority with the bayonet ; and so leaving 
 a strong picket on the ground under Hampton, re- 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE 22$ 
 
 tired from the combat, though he could have renewed 
 the battle with success, and gained it the second time. 
 But with his prisoners and wounded, and his army 
 exhausted with fatigue, he could not continue the 
 pursuit, and hence a complete victory would end only 
 in the retreat of the enemy — a result that would oc- 
 cur without any more fighting. 
 
 Lee went with a flag to the English commander, to 
 propose that both armies should unite in burying the 
 dead. The roar of the conflict had died away, and 
 the burning sun was still high in the heavens, when 
 the hostile bands, forgetting their animosities, min- 
 gled together in bearing off their fallen comrades. 
 There they lay, friend and foe, side by side — many 
 mutually transfixed, and scowling on each other in 
 death. The field was red with blood, and the slain 
 lay thick as autumn-leaves over that open space. But 
 there was one spectacle which, as it met his gaze, 
 wrung Greene's heart with the bitterest anguish. 
 Before him, in ghastly rows, lay fifty of his brave 
 officers, pale and cold in death, or bleeding fast from 
 their wounds. In a small, miserable hovel, standing 
 by itself, were the officers of Washington's squad- 
 ron, who had fallen under that dreadful fire from the 
 thicket. They were all noble young men, in the 
 morning of life — heroes every one of them, who had 
 closed firmly round him in his darkest hours. As he 
 passed among them his lips quivered — his eyes filled 
 with tears, and to those stretched on the floor, still 
 breathing, he said, in a voice choked with emotion : 
 '' It zvas a hying duty imposed on you; but it was 
 unavoidable. I could not help it/' 
 
 A. B., VOL. III. — 15 
 
226 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 So overcome with thirst and heat were the men, 
 after the battle, that they ran and plunged bodily into 
 the ponds and swamps. But their sufferings did not 
 end w^ith the day. The sickly season had set in, and 
 fevers were added to wounds, till the hospitals were 
 crowded, and the surgeons and physicians worn 
 down with constant labor. The enemy had fled in 
 affright, immediately after the battle, closely pursued 
 by Lee's legion, and Marion's men ; and Greene him- 
 self would have pushed on, but his sick and dying 
 army required repose, and he repaired to the hills of 
 Santee. In this distressed and crippled condition his 
 feelings were sorely tried, and in no way more than 
 in seeing the sufferings of his faithful soldiers. He 
 would go himself through the hospital, cheering up 
 the desponding, and stooping over the fevered couch 
 of the dying, while blessings and tears followed his 
 footsteps. 
 
 Two months passed aw^ay in this manner, and the 
 enemy were gathering their forces again. The re- 
 cruits on their way to join him, had been stopped at 
 Yorktown, and but a feeble band remained under his 
 command. Apparently deserted and abandoned, his 
 officers began to despond, and proposed to abandon 
 all further effort. '" No/' said the intrepid and noble- 
 hearted patriot, '' I zvill save the country or perish in 
 the attempt; " and while yet in the midst of his trou- 
 bles and embarrassments, hearing of the approach of 
 Washington against Cornwallis, and fearing the lat- 
 ter would attempt to retreat through the Carolinas, 
 to Charleston, he made preparations to cross his path, 
 and again measure strength with him. But on the 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE 227 
 
 9th of November, 1 78 1 , the news was brought of the 
 surrender of the British army; and joy and exulta- 
 tion reigned throughout the camp. 
 
 Greene now hoped to draw the French fleet south, 
 to co-operate with him in reducing Charleston; but 
 failing in this, he boldly took the field against the 
 enemy. Sending Marion to operate between Charles- 
 ton and Santee, and Sumpter to overawe the Tories 
 at Orangeburg, he, with eight hundred men advanced 
 against Dorchester, where one portion of the English 
 army was lying. Stewart, his old adversary of 
 Eutaw, was only seven miles from this place, with 
 the other division ; but Greene hoped by a surprise to 
 crush the former, before he could come to its relief. 
 With his eight hundred men he moved rapidly over 
 the intervening country, and abandoning the public 
 roads, made his way- through forests and swamps, 
 and faUing on the English cavalry and breaking it in 
 pieces, suddenly presented himself before Dorchester. 
 But the British had heard of his approach, notwith- 
 standing his precaution, and destroying their stores, 
 precipitately retreated to within six miles of Charles- 
 ton. Thither also Stewart fled, and thus, by a bril- 
 liant manoeuvre, Greene drove the enemy from all 
 their strong posts, and cooped them up around 
 Charleston. The country rung with applause, and 
 his own officers were dazzled at the genius and dar- 
 ing which had accomplished so much. Following up 
 his success, he began to draw his toils closer and 
 closer around the city. But in the very midst of his 
 victories, came the news, that two thousand men 
 from New York, and three thousand from Ireland, 
 
228 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 were on their way to relieve the place. Instead of 
 yielding to despair at this unlooked-for danger, he 
 summoned all his energies to meet it. He called on 
 the separate States, in the most beseeching language, 
 for reinforcements, and the state of his mind at this 
 time may be imagined, from a letter he wrote to 
 Davies. " For God's sake! " said he, "" give no sleep 
 to your eyes, nor slumber to your eyelids, until you 
 get the troops on the march/' Desperate as was his 
 position, he was determined to fight ; and if he could 
 not win the battle, at least so burden the enemy with 
 wounded, that they could not pursue him. The re- 
 port, however, turned out to be a gross exaggeration, 
 and a world of anxiety was taken from his mind. 
 In writing to a friend afterwards, he says, with a 
 mixture of mirth and firmness : " I have not been 
 frightened, as Dr. Skinner says, but / have been con- 
 foundedly alarmed/' 
 
 John's Island was now the only point around 
 Charleston in possession of the British troops, and 
 this he determined to carry by storm. There was 
 but one place where an army could wade to the 
 island, and over that only at low tide ; while galleys 
 moored within four hundred yards of each other, 
 commanded the passage. Two columns were put in 
 motion on the night of the 13th of January, and 
 silently began their march. Lee's reached the shore, 
 and cautiously passed over ; while the " All's well," 
 from the galleys, ringing through the darkness, 
 showed that they had not been discovered. He drew 
 up his men on the beach, and there, wet and shiver- 
 ing, waited the arrival of the other column. This, 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE 229 
 
 however, being deserted by its guide, and losing its 
 way, had wandered all night through the fields. 
 Messengers had been despatched in every direction, 
 but the secrecy with which everything had been con- 
 ducted rendered their search fruitless. At length 
 light streaks along the eastern sky announced the 
 approach of day, and the brave column was recalled 
 to the main land, and reached it in safety, though the 
 tide was running breast-high. This bold and skil- 
 fully laid plan had failed — but nothing daunted, 
 Greene ordered up his artillery, and opened a fierce 
 fire on the galleys, which forced them from their po- 
 sition, and drove the enemy into Charleston. Press- 
 ing up his advantage, he now threatened the city 
 itself. 
 
 But during the privations of the winter the troops 
 became discouraged, and some of them, mostly Penn- 
 sylvanians, plotted a revolt. They opened communi- 
 cations with the enemy, and everything was arranged 
 to deliver Greene into their hands. But the day be- 
 fore this infamous plot was to be carried into execu- 
 tion, it was discovered, and the leader of it hung in 
 presence of the army. 
 
 In the meantime Greene continued to draw his 
 lines closer and closer around Charleston. The 
 Spring found him still menacing the town, but with- 
 out the power to inflict a blow. Summer came, and 
 still he lingered; until at last the pestilential atmos- 
 phere began its work. Struck down by disease, the 
 men died by scores, and the air became loaded with 
 the stench of putrid corpses. In approaching the 
 camp, you would have thought, from the smell, that 
 
230 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 the whole army was rotting in the sun. It was per- 
 fectly horrible; and at last Greene himself was 
 stricken down with the fever though his resolute 
 spirit still remained unbroken. The utmost destitu- 
 tion prevailed ; so that even salt had to be manufac- 
 tured on the sea-shore, to furnish a supply. The 
 soldiers were without clothing — there was scarce one 
 blanket to ten men — hundreds were entirely naked; 
 and thus, consumed with fever, they slowly wasted 
 away. There were a thousand so destitute of gar- 
 ments, that Greene could not ask them to appear on 
 duty, except in the most desperate emergency. Thus 
 the Spring and Autumn passed. At length the army 
 received a good supply of clothing, and the sickness 
 began slowly to disappear. 
 
 The enemy were still in Charleston, but their con- 
 dition was every day becoming more and more strait- 
 ened; and at last they determined to evacuate the 
 city. When the morning gun of the thirteenth of 
 December broke over the American camp — the signal 
 for the embarkation to commence — loud shouts of 
 exultation went up; and as the soldiers entered the 
 town, so great was their eagerness, that the officers 
 could scarcely restrain them from pressing on the 
 ranks of the retiring foe. At three o'clock Greene 
 entered, with the governor by his side, preceded by 
 thirty dragoons, and followed by a long procession of 
 citizens, while his brave cavalry brought up the rear. 
 With banners flying, and drums beating, and bugles 
 breathing forth their most triumphant strains, the 
 imposing procession moved through the streets. 
 Every window was thronged with happy faces ; and 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE 23 I 
 
 the whole city had turned out to see the man, the 
 history of whose toils, and sufferings, and battles, 
 and victories had become familiar as household 
 words, and who was now bringing them freedom, 
 and joy, and peace. At first, a breathless silence 
 hung over the immense multitude, and eyes swim- 
 ming in tears were turned in mute love and admira- 
 tion towards the advancing chieftain. Suddenly, as 
 if by a common impulse, there arose over this deep 
 hush, one long and deafening shout, till the city 
 rocked and rung with the jubilee; and "God bless 
 you! God bless you! " fell on every side, from hearts 
 overflowing with joy and gratitude. That was a 
 proud day to the noble-hearted veteran ; and in that 
 single moment of bliss he received a full reward for 
 his toils. As he looked on the thousands of beaming 
 and happy faces, his manly breast heaved with emo- 
 tion, and that iron heart, which no toil, nor suffering, 
 nor danger, could subdue, sunk under the tide of 
 affection, and the eye that had never blenched, in the 
 wildest of the battle, flowed in tears. Noble man! 
 those tears honored him more than his hard-earned 
 laurels. 
 
 This ended the war in the South — Greene had 
 conquered at last, though under circumstances that 
 fill the historian with wonder as he traces back the 
 stream of events. 
 
 Of his efforts in behalf of his soldiers, and the 
 difficulties he surmounted while commanding in 
 Charleston, I will say nothing. In April, the news of 
 peace was received with illuminations, and salutes of 
 cannon, and unbounded demonstrations of joy; and 
 
232 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 in August he bade farewell to his army, which had 
 become endeared to him by a common suffering, and 
 a thousand proofs of devotion, and took his journey 
 northward. At Princeton, he met his beloved com- 
 mander Washington, and there they talked over to- 
 gether their toils, and the glorious prospects before 
 their country. Hastening on to his family, in Rhode 
 Island, he was everywhere received with applause. 
 He found his affairs involved, but taking a small 
 house at Newport, he began to gather around him 
 the comforts of home. But his great exposures and 
 incessant toil, together with his sickness in his south- 
 ern campaigns, had made severe inroads on his iron 
 constitution. He, however, rallied again, and, in 
 1785, after passing through great pecuniary embar- 
 rassments, removed to Georgia, to a plantation on 
 the Savannah River, which had been presented to 
 him by the State. Soon after his arrival, he received 
 a challenge from a Captain Gunn, on account of 
 some decision he had made against him during the 
 war, respecting a horse. Greene promptly rejected 
 it, thus furnishing a noble example to the South, of 
 which he had become a citizen. This was a bold 
 step to take, considering the state of public feeling 
 at that time, and Greene knew it, and wrote to Wash- 
 ington asking his advice. It is needless to say, the 
 latter approved his course. 
 
 The next year he removed his family to his planta- 
 tion, called Mulberry Grove, and there, surrounded 
 by those he loved, he seemed to recover the freshness 
 and elasticity of youth. His happiness, however, 
 was of short duration. On his way home from 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE 233 
 
 Savannah, in June, whither he had gone on business, 
 he stopped with Mr. Gibbons over night, and next 
 day walking out with him to view his rice plantation, 
 received a partial sunstroke. He reached home, but 
 the death-blow had been inflicted, and after a few 
 days of suffering, he, on the i8th of June, 1786, 
 closed his career. He was in the prime of life, being 
 only forty-four years of age when he died. His body 
 was carried to Savannah; and there followed by an 
 immense concourse of people, and amid general 
 mourning, was borne to the grave. 
 
 HIS CHARACTER 
 
 Next to Washington, Greene was the ablest com- 
 mander in the revolutionary army. In person he was 
 above the middle height, and strongly made. He 
 had a fine face, with a florid complexion, lit up by 
 brilliant blue eyes. His natural expression was 
 frank and benevolent, but in battle it assumed a 
 sternness, which showed that beneath his easy and 
 gentle manners, was a strength of purpose not easily 
 overcome. When highly excited, or absorbed in in- 
 tense thought, he had a curious habit of rubbing vio- 
 lently his upper lip with his fore-finger. Inured by 
 exposure and toil, his frame possessed a wonderful 
 power of endurance, rendered still greater by the in- 
 domitable will it enclosed. A self-made man, he rose 
 from the ranks to major-general of the army, solely 
 by his own genius and force. Ignorant at first of 
 military tactics, he applied himself with such dili- 
 gence to the subject, that he mastered them in less 
 
2 34 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 time than many employ on the rudiments: and the 
 knowledge he obtained was not merely so many 
 maxims and rules stowed away, but principles, out of 
 which he wrought his own plans and system. He 
 had an almost intuitive perception of character. He 
 resembled Washington in this respect, and seemed 
 to take the exact measure of every man who ap- 
 proached him. Many of his actions in the field were 
 based upon this knowledge of his adversaries, and 
 hence, though often inexplicable to others, perfectly 
 clear and rational to himself. Thus, in the southern 
 campaign against Cornwallis, his movements were 
 sometimes considered rash in the extreme by those 
 who judged of them merely from the relative posi- 
 tion and strength of the armies., ^'' But to him, who 
 could judge more correctly from his knowledge of 
 men's views and character, than from their transient 
 movements, what course they would take, they ap- 
 peared the wisest he could adopt. A more fearless 
 man never led an army ; and his courage was not the 
 result of sudden enthusiasm, or even of excitement, 
 but of a well-balanced and strong character. He 
 was never known to be thrown from his perfect self- 
 possession by any danger, however sudden ; and was 
 just as calm and collected when his shattered army 
 tossed in a perfect wreck around him, as in his tent 
 at night. The roar of artillery, and the tumult of a 
 fierce-fought battle, could not disturb the natural ac- 
 tion of his mind — his thoughts were as clear, and his 
 judgment was as correct in the midst of a sudden 
 and unexpected overthrow, as in planning a cam- 
 paign. This gave him tremendous power, and was 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE 235 
 
 the great reason that, though beaten, he could not be 
 utterly routed. No matter how superior his antago- 
 nist, or how unexpected the panic of his troops, he 
 was never, like Gates, driven a fugitive from the 
 field. He possessed two qualities seldom found 
 united — great caution, and yet great rapidity. His 
 blow w^as carefully planned, but when it came it fell 
 like falling lightning. His mind was clear and com- 
 prehensive, and worked with ceaseless activity and 
 energy. Nothing could escape his glance, and he 
 seemed to forecast all the contingencies that did or 
 could happen. His fortitude was wonderful. All 
 exposures, all privations, all embarrassments, toils 
 and sufferings, he bore with a patience that filled his 
 soldiers with astonishment and admiration. During 
 his southern campaign he never took off his clothes, 
 except to change them, for seven months; and some- 
 times would be in the saddle two days on a stretch, 
 without a moment's repose. His energy was equal 
 to his endurance; for he not only bore everything 
 bravely, but, under difBculties that would have 
 weighed an ordinary man to the earth, put forth al- 
 most super-human exertions. No sooner was one 
 obstacle surmounted than he attacked another; and 
 no sooner was one danger escaped than he plunged 
 into another, again to extricate himself, to the aston- 
 ishment of all. Tireless as fate itself, he would 
 neither take repose nor allow it to his enemy. His 
 whole career, while opposed to Cornwallis, is one of 
 the most remarkable in the history of military men. 
 When he took command of the southern army, he 
 found it to consist of a mere handful of destitute, un- 
 
236 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 disciplined, and ragged troops: yet, with these, he 
 entered the field against one of the best generals of 
 the age supported by an army of veteran soldiers. 
 With his raw recruits around him, he immediately 
 began the offensive ; and before his powerful enemy 
 had time to penetrate his plans, smote him terribly at 
 Cowpens. Having by this movement brought the 
 whole English force against him, he was compelled 
 to retreat, and by a series of skilful manoeuvres and 
 forced marches, completely foiled every attempt to 
 reach him. Unable to cope with his adversary, he, 
 nevertheless, refused to quit the field — retiring like 
 the lion, slowly and resolutely. He kept his pursuer 
 ever under his eye, so that he could not make a mis- 
 take without receiving a blow. He stopped when 
 his adversary stopped, and looked him boldly in the 
 face, till he provoked him to burn his baggage, in 
 order to convert his entire army into light troops and 
 thus facilitate his movements. But even then he 
 would out-march and out-manoeuvre him, penetrat- 
 ing and bailing every plan laid against him, and 
 carrying out every one of his own. He thus led his 
 enemy through the entire State of North Carolina; 
 and the moment he turned, followed him, and dealt 
 him such a staggering blow at Guilford, that he was 
 compelled to a precipitate flight. No sooner was 
 Cornwallis beyond his reach, than he turned furious- 
 ly on his posts in South Carolina, and carrying them 
 one after another, brought the war to the doors of 
 Charleston. His combinations, throughout the 
 whole campaign, were admirable, and succeeded be- 
 yond the most sanguine expectations. He did not 
 
NATHANIEL GREENE 237 
 
 commit a single error, and every failure that befell 
 him was the result of the most arrant cowardice on 
 the part of some of his militia. 
 
 Years before, the English officer opposed to him in 
 Jersey, wrote, saying, '' Greene is dangerous as 
 Washington — he is vigilant, enterprising, and full of 
 resources ; " and the Chevalier de la Luzerne, Knight 
 of Malta, in speaking of his southern campaign, said : 
 '' Other generals subdue their enemy, by the means 
 which their country or sovereign furnishes them ; but 
 Greene appears to reduce his enemy by his own 
 means. He commenced his campaign without either 
 an army, provisions, or military stores. He has 
 asked for nothing since ; and yet, scarcely a post ar- 
 rives from the South that does not bring intelligence 
 of some new advantage gained over the foe. He 
 conquers by magic. History furnishes no parallel 
 to this." 
 
 The resources of his mind were mexhaustible — 
 there was no gulf out of which he could not find a 
 way of escape, and no plan, if necessary, too hopeless 
 for him to attempt. Without a dollar from govern- 
 ment, and penniless himself, he nevertheless man- 
 aged to keep an army in the field, and conquer with 
 it. True, it was half-naked and half-starved ; but by 
 his wonderful power he succeeded in holding it to- 
 gether. His soldiers loved him with devotion, and 
 having seen him extricate himself so often from ap- 
 parently inevitable ruin, they at length came to re- 
 gard him as invincible. Sharing all their toils and 
 dangers, and partaking of all their sufferings, he so 
 wound himself into their affections, that they would 
 
238 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 go wherever he commanded. He made of raw 
 militia all that ever can be made of them, in the short 
 time he had them under his control. 
 
 His patriotism was of the purest kind, and Wash- 
 ington spoke from correct knowledge when he said : 
 '' Could he but promote the interests of his country 
 in the character of a corporal, he would exchange, 
 without a murmur, his epaulettes for the knot." His 
 own reputation and life he regarded as nothing in the 
 cause of freedom. Next to his country, he loved 
 Washington ; and no mean ambition, or envy of his 
 great leader, ever sullied his noble character. That 
 affection was returned, and the two heroes moved 
 side by side, as tried friends, through the revolution- 
 ary struggle. He was a man whose like is seldom 
 seen; and placed in any country, opposed to any 
 commander, would have stood first in the rank of 
 military chieftains. In the heart of Europe, with a 
 veteran army under his command, he would have 
 astonished the world. 
 
LIFE OF 
 MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 
 
 BY 
 
 ]. T. HEADLEY 
 
MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 
 
 His Birth and early Marriage. — His interest in our Cause. — 
 Resolves to come to this Country. — Forbidden by his Gov- 
 ernment. — Buys and fits out a Ship at his own expense. — 
 Cold reception by Congress. — Warm one by Washington. — 
 Bravery at Brandywine. — Affair of Gloucester Point. — 
 Given command of a Division. — Affair of Barren Hill, — 
 Bravery at Monmouth. — Sent South to repel Arnold and 
 Cornwallis. — Coops the latter up at Yorktown. — Storming 
 of the Redoubts. — Returns to France. — Chief Actor in the 
 French Revolution. — Commands the National Guard. — 
 Storming of Versailles by Women. — Scene in the Champ de 
 Mars. — Appointed Commander in the French Army. — His 
 Flight. — Made Prisoner by Austria. — Noble attempts to res- 
 cue him. — Liberated by Napoleon. — Returns to private life. — 
 Visit to this Country. — His enthusiastic Reception. — His 
 triumphal Progress. — Returns to France. — Helps to over- 
 throw Charles X. — His Death and Character, 
 
 There are now and then bright spots on this 
 darkened planet of ours — great and glorious ex- 
 amples of human virtue, interrupting the otherwise 
 sad history of the race. Patriotism, which sinks 
 self, and scorns death, is a noble virtue — yet one 
 might be expected to defend his own land and 
 hearth-stones. But that philanthropy which goes 
 out of its own hemisphere, to seek the welfare, and 
 suffer for the freedom of strangers, is a rarer virtue. 
 A. B., VOL. III. — 16 241 
 
242 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 yet the one which has immortahzed Lafayette. One 
 can never think of that French boy, eighteen years 
 of age, just married, rolHng in wealth, and basking 
 in the sunshine of court favor, sending up from the 
 Tuileries of Paris his shout for us and our cause, 
 without the deepest emotion. Our admiration and 
 affection are not lessened, when we see him lavish- 
 ing his wealth on our naked famishing soldiers — 
 winding himself in child-like love round the great 
 heart of our Washington — charging like a veteran 
 through the ranks of our foemen, and carried pale 
 and bleeding from our disastrous fields. 
 
 There is something exquisitely touching and beau- 
 tiful in the enthusiasm of this youth in our behalf. 
 His whole career, as connected with this country, 
 seems to belong rather to the. writer of romance, than 
 of plain history. To give a naked narrative of facts, 
 is to weave poetry into politics, and throw gushes of 
 warm, generous feeling, into the cold calculations of 
 intriguing statesmen. France wished us success, 
 because it would revenge her for the loss of her col- 
 onies in this country, and weaken the power of her 
 rival in the new world ; but these motives never en- 
 tered into the heart of Lafayette. He saw only a 
 weak, but brave people, struggling to be free; and 
 overleaping all questions of interest — breaking 
 away from*all the ties of home, family and country, 
 threw himself alone into our arms. National preju- 
 dice, the jealousy of our officers, and the coldness 
 of Congress, could not check the warm current of his 
 sympathy. For us he was determined to fight — in 
 our cause expend his fortune, and peril his life. Not 
 
MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 243 
 
 an exile, nor an adventurer — but a wealthy, flattered 
 young nobleman, he cast from him the luxuries and 
 gayeties of the French court — turned away from all 
 the honors that clustered in his path, and became 
 the companion of our poverty and toils — the jest and 
 bye-word of kings. 
 
 GiLBERT-MoTiER Lafayette was the only son 
 of Marquis de Lafayette, a French colonel, who fell 
 in the battle of Minden. He was not born till two 
 months after the death of his father. At the age 
 of twelve years he was sent to college at Paris, — but 
 his mother dying soon after, he became sole posses- 
 sor of the family estates, and his own master. At 
 fifteen he was chosen one of the queen's pages, and 
 appointed an officer in the king's regiment of mus- 
 keteers — the next year he married Countess Anas- 
 tasie, daughter of the Duke de Noailles, a lady of 
 immense wealth. The fortune she brought her 
 young husband, added to his own, swelled his in- 
 come to $37,500 per annum. Ardent, enthusiastic, 
 loving adventure and glory, — he entered on the race 
 of life under the most flattering auspices. Inde- 
 pendent and bold, he disdained to flatter, and sought 
 no emoluments from the throne which threw the 
 shadow of its protection over him. 
 
 At this early age he belonged to an association of 
 young men, the object of which was to discuss the 
 question of civil liberty. Our Revolution, with the 
 principles on which it was based, startled every 
 despot of Europe on his throne; and the young 
 Lafayette, seemed suddenly to have opened his eyes 
 on a world about which he had hitherto been only 
 
244 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 dreaming. Says he : " When I first learned the sub- 
 ject of this quarrel, my heart espoused warmly the 
 cause of liberty, and I thought of nothing, but of 
 adding also the aid of my banner." The question 
 took such deep hold of his ardent and generous na- 
 ture, that he could not rest until he resolved to come 
 to America. Acquainting his relative, the Count de 
 Broglie, with his intentions, the latter approved of 
 his feelings, but condemned his plans. Said he: 
 " I have seen your uncle die in the wars of Italy ; 
 I witnessed your father's death at the battle of Min- 
 den ; and I will not be accessory to the ruin of the 
 only remaining branch of the family." When, how- 
 ever, he found him determined, he kindly gave him 
 his countenance and aid. 
 
 He then obtained, through the Baron de Kalb, an 
 introduction to Silas Deane, our ambassador at 
 Paris ; who entered warmly into his -feelings, and 
 gave him a letter to Congress, requesting them to 
 appoint him major-general in the American army. 
 A vessel was about being fitted out to come to this 
 country, in which the young Marquis resolved to 
 embark. But just then came the news of our disas- 
 ters — New York, Long Island — our posts on the 
 Hudson, had fallen one after another — and our 
 cause seemed hopeless. It was no longer possible to 
 obtain a vessel ; and Doctor Franklin and Arthur 
 Lee, who had been added to our embassy at Paris, 
 endeavored to persuade the young nobleman to aban- 
 don his project. But he was not to be thus deterred 
 — our distresses only inflamed his sympathy; and 
 calling on Mr. Deane, he told him that he was now 
 
MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 245 
 
 going to prove his ardor in the cause of American Hb- 
 erty, by purchaatng and fitting out a vessel with his 
 own means, in which he himself would carry out the 
 officers they wished to send. A vessel was pur- 
 chased at Bordeaux; and while it was undergoing 
 repairs, he went to England with the Prince de Poix, 
 in order to conceal his designs from the French gov- 
 ernment, which would have arrested them at once. 
 
 Returning to Paris, he concealed himself several 
 days, and then went to Bordeaux. But his vessel 
 was not ready for sea, and while he was waiting, his 
 friends and the government got wind of his plans, 
 and the latter immediately sent officers to arrest him. 
 Hearing of these movements, he fled to Passage, a 
 Spanish port, where his arrest and his letters over- 
 took him. The king ordered him peremptorily to 
 court, while the letters of his friends were violent 
 in the extreme. Here was a dilemma for the bold 
 stripling. To prevent his departure from being 
 known, he had concealed it even from his young 
 wife, and her letter reproached him for his cruelty. 
 This shook his resolution more than the threats of 
 his relatives or the authority of the king. He re- 
 turned to Bordeaux, and opened a correspondence 
 with the government, justifying his course, and ask- 
 ing permission to depart. Receiving no answer, he 
 determined at all hazards to sail, and disguising him- 
 self as a courier, started for Passage, where his ves- 
 sel lay. His pursuers were on the track, but his 
 disguise protected him, and he reached Passage in 
 safety, and the same day weighed anchor and stood 
 out to sea. Baron de Kalb, and eleven other officers. 
 
246 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 accompanied him, and after a voyage of seven 
 weeks, he finally reached Georgetown, South Caro- 
 lina, and received his first welcome from Major 
 Huger. Repairing immediately to Charleston, he 
 presented Moultrie with clothing, arms, &c., for a 
 hundred or a hundred and fifty men, as a reward for 
 their gallant defence of Sullivan's Island. His let- 
 ters to his wife, written at this period, are full of 
 affection, and exhibit the ardor and enthusiasm of a 
 youth on whom this new country, with its new 
 scenes, customs, and manners, had made a lively 
 impression. 
 
 Hastening on to Philadelphia — riding nine hun- 
 dred miles of the distance on horseback, he presented 
 his letters to Congress, together with the stipulation 
 of Mr. Deane, respecting the rank he was to hold. 
 Congress, however, received him coldly; such a host 
 of foreign of^cers, many of them needy adventurers, 
 had applied for appointments, that it began to be 
 alarmed; and Mr. Lovell, one of the members, told 
 him he thought 'his request would be denied. Be- 
 sides, Lafayette was a mere boy, only nineteen years 
 of age, and it was risking too much to place him in a 
 responsible position. But he was not to be offended 
 or deterred by coldness, and so the next day he sent 
 the following note to Congress : " After the sacri- 
 fices I have made, I have the right to exact two fa- 
 vors; one is, to serve at my own expense — the other 
 is, to serve at first as a volunteer/' " Favors " in- 
 deed, to fight at his own expense, without rank or 
 emolument, and for the freedom of strangers, who 
 received him coldly ! Congress must have possessed 
 
MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 247 
 
 hearts of stone to have resisted this magnanimity; 
 it could not do it, and immediately made out his 
 commission. The next day he was introduced to 
 Washington at a dinner-party, and the impression 
 the latter made on him, may be inferred from his 
 own language — says he, " Although he was sur- 
 rounded by officers and citizens, it was impossible 
 to mistake, for a moment, his majestic figure and 
 deportment." 
 
 After dinner, Washington took him aside, and 
 told him always to regard himself as one of his own 
 family — pleasantly adding, that he must not expect 
 the luxuries of a court in a republican army. From 
 that moment a friendship commenced between them, 
 which only grew stronger with time. The generous 
 heart of Washington warmed spontaneously to- 
 wards this enthusiastic, self-sacrificing youth, and 
 he took him to his arms at once, and loved him as a 
 son. That afifection was returned, and there is noth- 
 ing more toudhing and beautiful in our Revolution- 
 ary history, than the attachment between that strong, 
 self-reliant, mature man, and the young, impulsive 
 nobleman. But though there was such a disparity 
 in their age and experience, there was not in the 
 height of their persons, and they moved about head 
 and shoulders above all the rest. 
 
 On the day that he arrived in camp, there was a 
 review of the troops, and one can well imagine that 
 those eleven thousand men '' presented a strange 
 spectacle " to him : " Their clothes," he writes, 
 " were partly-colored, and many of them were partly 
 naked ; the best clad wore hunting-shirts — large gray 
 
248 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 linen coats. As to their military tactics, it will be 
 sufficient to say that, for a regiment ranged in order 
 of battle, to move forward on the right of its line, 
 it was necessary for the left to make a continued 
 countermarch. They were all arranged in two lines, 
 the smallest men in the first line — no other distinc- 
 tion, as to height, was ever observed." 
 
 Soon after, the battle of Brandywine occurred, in 
 which Lafayette behaved with the greatest gallantry. 
 He sought the post of danger; and while on foot, 
 endeavoring to rally the troops, received a wound 
 in the leg. In the flight he came very near being 
 taken, and but for his aide, Gima, who helped him 
 on a horse ; this, his first battle in behalf of Ameri- 
 can freedom, would probably have been his last. As 
 he was hurrying over the field, he met Washington, 
 advancing to check the pursuit, and was about to 
 turn back with him, when the loss of blood obliged 
 him to halt, and have his wound bandaged. In the 
 final rout, he was compelled, though pale and bleed- 
 ing, to ride twelve miles without stopping. At 
 length, coming to a bridge, he endeavored, weak and 
 exhausted as he was, to rally the troops, and was 
 straining every nerve when Washington and his 
 suite came galloping up. He then had his wound 
 dressed, and the next morning was carried into 
 Philadelphia, and from thence, on the approach of 
 the British, to Bethlehem, and left in the care of the 
 Moravians, who nursed him with the greatest solici- 
 tude. The pious brotherhood endeavored to instil 
 in his mind sentiments of peace — he listened with 
 great attention, but was planning the while an attack 
 
MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 249 
 
 on the British possessions in the West Indies, and 
 another on the EngHsh factories in the Isle of 
 France. These projects were forwarded to the 
 French court; but, though approved, were not 
 carried out, as it still occupied a neutral position 
 between the colonies and England. The French 
 minister, however, was pleased with the spirit and 
 energy of the young Republican, and remarked pleas- 
 antly : " He will end one day, by unfurnishing the 
 palace of Versailles, to serve the American cause: 
 for when he has taken anything into his head it is 
 impossible to resist him." 
 
 He also wrote at this time an affectionate, and 
 playful letter to his wife, in which he pours forth 
 every feeling of his heart, with the frank impulsive- 
 ness of a child. In speaking of the battle of Brandy- 
 wine, he says : " I must now give you a lesson, as 
 wife of an American general officer. They will say 
 to you, ' They have been beaten/ You must answer 
 — * That is true; but when two armies of equal num- 
 ber meet in the field, old soldiers have naturally the 
 advantage over new ones ; they have, besides, had the 
 pleasure of killing a great many of the enemy, many 
 more than they have lost.' They will afterwards 
 add, ' All that is very well ; but Philadelphia is taken, 
 the capital of America, the rampart of liberty.' You 
 must politely answer, 'You are all great fools! 
 Philadelphia is a poor forlorn town, exposed on 
 every side, whose harbor was already closed, though 
 the residence of Congress lent it, I know not why, 
 some degree of celebrity.' This is the famous city! 
 which, be it added, we will sooner or later, make 
 them yield 'back to us." 
 
250 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 In October, while his wound was still unhealed, he 
 joined the army at Whitemarsh. Soon after, 
 Greene was sent by Washington to operate against 
 Cornwallis, then in New Jersey; and Lafayette, 
 though unable yet to wear a boot, requested to ac- 
 company him as a volunteer. Having obtained per- 
 mission to take with him three hundred and fifty 
 men, and reconnoitre — he left the main body, and 
 came up with Cornwallis at Gloucester, opposite 
 Philadelphia. Advancing out on a sandy point to 
 obtain a better view, he was discovered by the British, 
 commander, and a detachment of dragoons imme- 
 diately sent to cut him off — but taking a back road, 
 he escaped them, and passing within two miles of 
 the enemy's camp, came upon an outpost of four 
 hundred Hessians. Without a moment's delay, he 
 led his raw militia so furiously to the attack, that the 
 whole detachment gave way. He pursued them to 
 within a half mile of the main body, killing and 
 wounding fifty or sixty of them, and then retired in 
 safety. Lafayette was delighted with the behavior 
 of his men on this occasion, saying, in his letter to 
 Washington, that he '' found the riflemen even above 
 their reputation — and the militia above all his ex- 
 pectations." *' I must tell, too," he added '' that the 
 riflemen had been the whole day running before my 
 horse, without eating or taking any rest." This 
 brilliant little affair contributed much to bring about 
 an event, which had troubled Washington exceed- 
 ingly. Lafayette had requested to be given the com- 
 mand of a division, and the former had written fre- 
 quently to Congress about it; but the appointment, 
 
MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 25 1 
 
 for various reasons, was delayed. A resolve, how- 
 ever, was finally passed, recommending him to be 
 placed over a division of the Continental army ; and 
 the Virginia troops, hitherto under General Steph- 
 ens, were given him. 
 
 The sufferings of Valley Forge followed this cam- 
 paign; and Lafayette, notwithstanding his wealth 
 and the comforts to which he had been accustomed, 
 cheerfully shared with the officers their privations — 
 and entering at once into our feelings, adopted our 
 dress and customs, and thus completely wound him- 
 self into our affections. Everybody loved him, and 
 from one end of the land to the other, his name was 
 ever coupled with blessings. 
 
 I have spoken elsewhere of the Conway cabal, by 
 which it was sought to place Gates over Washington, 
 and of the effort to draw Lafayette into it, by ap- 
 pointing him commander of the expedition to be 
 fitted out against Canada. The plan was laid with 
 skill, for the authors of it knew that nothing could be 
 more agreeable to the French nobleman than to 
 wrest the former province of his country from the 
 hands of the English. Finding, however, that his 
 attachment could not be shaken, the contemptible 
 Board of War, and still more contemptible faction in 
 Congress, concluded it was best to abandon the proj- 
 ect altogether; and in March, Lafayette returned 
 from Albany, where he had been making arrange- 
 ments for it, to Valley Forge. 
 
 Here, on the 5th of May, arrived the intelligence 
 of the alliance of France with us ; and the most un- 
 bounded joy prevailed throughout the camp and the 
 
2 52 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 nation. Lafayette had contributed much to secure 
 this result, which at once gave permanency to our 
 struggle. His letters to his friends, high in favor, 
 and to Government — the enthusiasm with which he 
 followed our fortunes, had all combined to make our 
 cause popular with the entire French nation. 
 
 A day of general rejoicing was set apart to com- 
 memorate the event, and amid the gloomy huts of 
 Valley Forge went up a loud huzza, that from that 
 time on scarce ever died away, till the united shout 
 of a ransomed people shook the world.* 
 
 * The following is the general order issued by Washington 
 on that occasion : — 
 
 " Head Quarters, Camp Valley Forge, 
 May sth, 1778. 
 
 " It having pleased the Almighty Ruler of the universe pro- 
 pitiously to defend the cause of the United American States, 
 and finally, by raising us up a powerful friend among the 
 princes of the earth, to establish our liberty and independence 
 on a lasting foundation ; it becomes us to set apart a day for 
 gratefully acknowledging the Divine goodness, and celebrat- 
 ing the important event which we owe to His benign interpo- 
 sition. 
 
 " The several brigades are to be assembled for this purpose 
 at nine o'clock to-morrow morning, when their chaplains will 
 communicate the intelligence contained in the Postscript to the 
 Pennsylvania Gazette of the second instant, and offer up a 
 thanksgiving, and deliver a discourse suitable to the occasion. 
 
 " At half-past ten o'clock a cannon will be fired, which is to 
 be a signal for the men to be under arms. The brigade inspec- 
 tors will then inspect their dress and arms, form the battalions 
 according to the instructions given them, and announce to the 
 commanding officers of brigades that the battalions are formed. 
 The brigadiers and commandants will then appoint the field 
 officers to command the battalions ; after which, each battalion 
 will be ordered to load and ground their arms. At half-past 
 eleven, another cannon will be fired rs a signal for the march; 
 on which the several brigades will begin their march by wheel- 
 ing to the right by platoons, and proceed by the nearest way to 
 the left of their ground, in the new position that will be 
 
MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 253 
 
 AFFAIR OF BARREN HILL 
 
 On the 1 8th of May, Washington, having heard 
 that the British were making preparations to evacu- 
 ate Philadelphia, detached Lafayette with two thou- 
 sand men and five pieces of cannon, to watch their 
 motions, and protect the country from the incursions 
 of marauding parties. Crossing the Schuylkill, the 
 latter took post on Barren Hill, about half way be- 
 tween Valley Forge and Philadelphia, or nine miles 
 from each, and stationed his pickets so as to prevent 
 surprise. But information of his movements was 
 conveyed to Sir Henry Clinton, in Philadelphia, by 
 a spy, and a force sufficient to crush three such de- 
 tachments immediately sent out against him. It was 
 designed to take him by surprise, and, cutting off his 
 retreat, oblige him to surrender. On the morning 
 of the 19th, the English commander put his troops in 
 motion — advancing in three columns. One of these, 
 five thousand strong, ascended the Schuylkill, and 
 threw itself directly in rear of Lafayette. There 
 were two fords by which the Marquis could cross the 
 river, and to each of these one of the columns was 
 directed, while Howe marched with an overwhelm- 
 ing force to attack him in front. The whole affair 
 
 pointed out by the brigade inspectors. A third signal will be 
 given, on which there will be a discharge of thirteen cannon ; 
 when the thirteenth has fired, a running fire of the infantry 
 will begin on the right of Woodford's, and continue through- 
 out the whole front line; it will then be taken up on the left 
 of the second line and continue to the right. On a signal 
 given, the whole army will huzza — Long live the King of 
 France! " 
 
254 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 had been planned with such secrecy that the enemy 
 never doubted of success, and Howe had promised 
 to bring Lafayette with him to dinner next day. 
 When the sun rose in the morning, his promise bid 
 fair to be fulfilled. A spectacle, alarming enough to 
 appall an older heart than Lafayette's, met his gaze 
 as he looked off from his height. Between him and 
 the Schuylkill, and Valley Forge, lay an immense 
 army — one portion commanding completely one 
 ford, the other occupying a hill, from which it could 
 descend like a torrent on his line of march for the 
 remaining passage, while in front was rapidly ad- 
 vancing the main body, to attack him. Owing to 
 the neglect or treachery of the Pennsylvania picket, 
 he had received no intimation of all these movements 
 till they were completed. In a moment the drums 
 beat to arms, while far in the distance was heard the 
 report of cannon. Washington, from his camp, had 
 discovered the advance of the British almost as soon 
 as Lafayette, and .filled with anxiety for the flower 
 of his troops, ordered alarm-guns to be fired, and 
 the whole army to stand to their arms. He himself, 
 with several of his officers, ascended a hill, and gazed 
 anxiously through his glass towards the Schuylkill. 
 But Lafayette was already in motion. His quick 
 eye took in at a glance the extent of the danger that 
 surrounded him, and he immediately adopted the 
 only course that could have saved him. The enemy 
 was in force in front, and the ford in his rear, which 
 lay on the direct road to Valley Forge, was too 
 strongly defended to be attacked. The other ford 
 alone remained to him, the road to which was com- 
 
MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 255 
 
 manded by Grant, with five thousand veteran troops. 
 On this, however, he boldly and rapidly marched. 
 But to deceive the British officer, he sent out small 
 detachments to manoeuvre in a piece of woods in 
 front of him, as if his purpose was not to reach the 
 ford, but assail his position. False heads of columns 
 were organized, which, protruding themselves 
 through the trees, caused Grant to suppose the whole 
 American army was advancing against him ; and so, 
 instead of cutting ofif Lafayette's line of march, he 
 halted where he was, and formed in order of battle. 
 In the meantime Lafayette, covered by the woods, 
 kept swiftly and noiselessly on his way, passing di- 
 rectly beneath the hill, on which his enemy was 
 posted; and, while the latter was wondering why 
 those columns, the heads of which he had seen, did 
 not advance — reached the ford in safety. These 
 sham columns then hastily retreated, and joined the 
 main army ; and Washington saw with inexpressible 
 delight, his boy-general, whom he loved, draw up his 
 troops in order of battle on the side of the river op- 
 posite the enemy. He had extricated himself with 
 consummate ability, losing only nine men in all, and 
 even for these making the enemy pay nearly double. 
 This small affair gave him great reputation as a 
 skilful and self-collected officer. 
 
 He arrived the same day at Valley Forge, and 
 was received with shouts and huzzas — while the 
 English Army marched sullenly back to Phila- 
 delphia.* 
 
 *A curious incident occurred in the morning when the 
 pickets of the two armies first ci^me together. Fifty English 
 dragoons suddenly came upon fifty Indians belonging to the 
 
256 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 About this time Lafayette received the news of 
 the death of his oldest daughter, which afflicted him 
 deeply. 
 
 In the following month occurred the battle of 
 Monmouth, in the description of which, in a pre- 
 ceding sketch, I have spoken of the generosity of 
 Lafayette, in giving up his command to Lee, at the 
 request of the latter. Had he retained it, there is 
 but little doubt that a signal victory would have been 
 won. But being a subordinate in command, he was 
 compelled to obey the vacillating orders of this un- 
 certain man. While Lee was manoeuvring in front 
 of the enemy — now directing Lafayette to advance, 
 and now to retreat, the latter saw a party of British 
 troops on the right flank, so far advanced from the 
 main body, that he thought it could easily be cut off, 
 and galloping up to Lee, asked permission to attack 
 it. " Sir," said the latter, *' you do not know Brit- 
 ish soldiers ; we cannot stand against them ; we shall 
 certainly be driven back at first, and we must be 
 cautious." Lafayette replied, ''It may be so; but 
 British soldiers have been beaten, and it is to be pre- 
 sumed they may be again — at all events, I zvoitld like 
 to make the trial/' He was forbidden, however, and 
 Lee began that shameful retreat, which robbed us of 
 our victory, and well-nigh secured our ruin. 
 
 When the burning sun of that terrible day disap- 
 peared behind the western hills, and the exhausted 
 
 American army, lying in ambush. The savages, frightened at 
 the presence of the horsemen, suddenly started up, and giving 
 one terrific yell, fled like deer. The dragoons, equally af- 
 righted by this unexpected apparition, also turned and fled, 
 never stopping till they reached Philadelphia. 
 
MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 257 
 
 armies sunk on the scorching earth, young Lafayette 
 lay down beside Washington, and the tired chieftain 
 wrapped him affectionately in his own mantle. For 
 a while they lay awake, and talked over the events of 
 the day, and especially the conduct of Lee, until at 
 length, overtasked nature gave way, and the two 
 heroes and patriots slept. 
 
 The French fleet arriving in July, and a descent on 
 Rhode Island being resolved upon, Lafayette was 
 sent with two brigades, to the aid of Sullivan. He 
 used all the means in his power to induce the French 
 admiral to remain and co-operate in the attack, but 
 in vain; and when the latter sailed for Boston, to 
 refit, repaired thither himself, by land. While there, 
 hearing that Sullivan had been attacked, he immedi- 
 ately started off, and travelling ten miles an hour, 
 for eight hours, arrived in time to bring off the rear- 
 guard to the main land. 
 
 For the untiring efforts he put forth on this occa- 
 sion, and especially for the service he rendered, as 
 mediator between the offended admiral and our gov- 
 ernment, he received the warmest thanks of both 
 Congress and Washington. The former, through 
 its president, Laurens, sent him its acknowledg- 
 ments. The reply of Lafayette was frank, and full 
 of feeling. In it occurs the following sentence, 
 which must endear him to every American. " The 
 moment I heard of America, I loved her; the mo- 
 ment I knew she zvas fighting for freedom, I hiirned 
 with a desire of bleeding for her; and the moment I 
 shall he able to serve her, at any time, or in any part 
 of the world, will he the happiest one of my life." 
 
 A. B., VOL. III. — 17 
 
2 58 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 Soon after this, he challenged Lord Carlisle, presi- 
 dent of the Board of British Commis'sioners, for 
 having said, in his correspondence with Congress, 
 that France, in her alliance with us, was "guilty of 
 perfidy," &c. Washington endeavored to dissuade 
 him from this act, but the latter felt that his nation 
 was insulted, and as one of her representatives here, 
 he ought to resent it. The challenge was declined, 
 and Lafayette afterwards confessed that he had done 
 wrong. 
 
 Having now been in the country fifteen months, 
 he wished to return home to visit his family, as well 
 as obtain more aid for the country of his adoption. 
 Fortified with letters from Congress, and bearing 
 testimonials of the esteem and parental love of 
 Washington, he star'ted for Boston. But at Fishkill 
 he was seized with a fever, wbich prostrated him for 
 three weeks, and for a while threatened seriously 
 his life. 
 
 At length, after many delays, he set sail on the 
 nth of January, 1779, in the frigate Alliance, which 
 had been assigned him by Congress. He had, hov/- 
 ever, escaped from sickness only to encounter still 
 greater danger. On the banks of Newfoundland a 
 fearful storm overtook them, which partially dis- 
 masted the vessel, and left her half-filled with water. 
 They were scarcely out of this before another arose. 
 The English and Irish sailors, who had been engaged 
 in Boston, formed a conspiracy to murder the pas- 
 sengers, and, seizing the vessel, carry her into an 
 English port. The plot was discovered only an hour 
 before the time fixed upon for putting it into 
 execution. 
 
MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 259 
 
 On his arrival in France, Lafayette was banished 
 from the court, because he had presumed to leave the 
 kingdom in disobedience of the orders of govern- 
 ment. Eight days, however, served to dissipate the 
 royal displeasure. The queen, Maria Antoinette, 
 immediately took a deep interest in him, and he be- 
 came the talk, and favorite of the city. Everybody 
 spoke of his enthusiasm — his devotion to liberty, and 
 his chivalric feelings. The queen procured for him 
 the command of a regiment of the king's dragoons ; 
 and was so struck with his enthusiastic love for 
 Washington, that she afterwards remarked to Dr. 
 Franklin : ''Do you know, doctor, that Lafayette 
 has really made me in love with your General Wash- 
 ington ? What a man he must be, and what a friend 
 he possesses in the Marquis." 
 
 In the meantime he planned a descent on the west 
 coast of England — the land forces to be under his 
 command, and the fleet under that of Paul Jones. 
 It was, however, abandoned ; and he then turned all 
 his efforts to obtain aid for America. He spent his 
 own fortune as freely as water ; and at length by his 
 unwearied efforts and sacrifices, obtained twelve bat- 
 talions of infantry — in all six thousand men, with a 
 proportionate artillery force — and six ships-of-the- 
 line, together with the requisite number of trans- 
 ports. These were the troops who pressed so gal- 
 lantly, with us, the siege of Yorktown. 
 
 Having accomplished this, he set sail himself to 
 join the American army as one of its officers. 
 When he arrived in Boston, all the bells of the town 
 were set ringing— salvos of cannon were fired, and 
 
260 . AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 shouts and acclamations followed him on his way to 
 the house of President Hancock. Hastening on to 
 head-quarters, Washington received him with open 
 arms, and embraced him as a son, and the whole 
 army shouted, " Long live Lafayette/' Remain- 
 ing here but a few days, he hurried to Philadelphia 
 to confer with Congress — greeted everywhere with 
 acclamations. He was the people's friend — and 
 tears of joy fell at the mention of his name. 
 
 The fleet at length arrived, and he was sent to 
 Newport to receive it; and a campaign began to 
 open, which promised scenes of stirring interest. 
 After several demonstrations on the part of the 
 French and British — of the latter against Newport, 
 and the former on New York — resulting in nothing 
 — Lafayette repaired to head-quarters, and took 
 command of a corps of light infantry, numbering 
 two thousand men, who had been selected from the 
 different regiments, on purpose for him. They were 
 fine-looking soldiers, but without clothing. The 
 Marquis, proud of them, furnished the entire corps 
 with uniforms at his own expense; and presented 
 every officer in it with a sword, and the separate bat- 
 talions with standards. The first time they were 
 reviewed in their new dress, and under their gay 
 standards, they presented a splendid appearance ; and 
 were a body of troops, of Which any commander 
 might be proud. Lafayette's eye ran along their 
 lines with delight, and he seemed willing to take the 
 very coat from his back for their benefit. This af- 
 fection was returned, for he was idolized by the 
 whole corps. 
 
MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 26 I 
 
 While Washington was thus hovering around 
 New York, and the French were blockaded in New- 
 port, news arived of the utter rout of Gates at 
 Camden. 
 
 Lafayette was annoyed exceedingly by the inac- 
 tivity which marked the campaign, and again and 
 again besought Washington to let him attack some 
 of the more northern posts of the English at New 
 York; but that skilful commander knew that the 
 hour for striking had not yet arrived — and at length 
 the army went into winter-quarters, and the fine 
 corps of the Marquis was disbanded. 
 
 The next year, however, a great part of it was re- 
 organized and put under its old commander, who 
 was ordered to Virginia, to repel the invasion of 
 Arnold. Of the failure of the attempt to take the 
 traitor, and the return of Lafayette, I have already 
 spoken in my sketch of Steuben. His whole man- 
 agement in this expedition was excellent. But when 
 Cornwallis directed his steps North, the Marquis was 
 again ordered in all haste to the South. The sol- 
 diers, however, were averse to going, and began to 
 desert in such numbers, that his army threatened to 
 dwindle to a mere handful. In this dilemma he ap- 
 pealed to the honor of his troops, saying, " they had 
 been ordered against a superior enemy — that the 
 confidence of the government in their patriotism and 
 virtue, their general, at least, would not violate— 
 and was determined to mardh against the enemy. 
 As for them," he said, " they need not desert— he 
 would save them that disgrace and crime— and those 
 who wished to leave, had only to apply to head- 
 
262 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 quarters for a pass, and it should be granted." 
 Strange as it may seem, this checked entirely deser- 
 tion. Lafayette sympathized with the distressed 
 condition of his troops; and unable to obtain any 
 supplies from government, borrowed ten thousand 
 dollars from the merchants of Baltimore on his own 
 credit, all of which he expended in shirts and shoes, 
 &c., for the soldiers. Murmuring and complaints, 
 gave place to enthusiasm and love; and his little 
 army closed round him like a band of brothers. Ad- 
 vancing south he reached Richmond, and drove Gen- 
 eral Philips down the river. This officer dying, the 
 command devolved on Arnold, who sent a letter to 
 Lafayette — ^but the latter refused to hold any cor- 
 respondence with a traitor. 
 
 Cornwallis finally effected a junction with Arnold, 
 and the Marquis was compelled to retreat. Then 
 commenced a series of brilliant manoeuvres, which 
 did infinite credit to the generalship of the young 
 commander. Cornwallis had been driven about by 
 Greene, like a man wandering in his sleep, but he 
 now supposed himself in front of a different antag- 
 onist, and wrote, saying, " the boy cannot escape 
 me'' But the boy did escape him, retiring slowly 
 before the overwhelming force pressing upon him, 
 and watching every movement with a vigilance noth- 
 ing could elude. 
 
 At length Cornwallis advanced towards Albemarle 
 courthouse, in order to destroy the magazines placed 
 there for the Southern army. Lafayette penetrated 
 his plans, but was unable, from the feebleness of his 
 force, to thw'art them. But at this critical juncture, 
 
MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 263 
 
 Wayne arrived with his corps of Pennsylvanians, 
 which emboldened him to make an attempt to save 
 the magazines. Taking a cross road, he suddenly 
 threw himself in front of the British commander, 
 prepared, inferior though he was in numbers^ to give 
 him battle. The latter, seeing his antagonist strong- 
 ly posted, and being made aware of the reinforce- 
 ments he had received, declined the offered engage- 
 ment, and began to retreat. Lafayette immediately 
 gave chase, and overtaking his rear-guard at Wil- 
 liamsburgh, killed and wounded a hundred and sixty 
 men, with the loss to himself of less than forty. 
 Thus for a hundred miles did he pursue Cornwallis, 
 and by his boldness and apparent eagerness for an 
 engagement, effectually blind him as to the real 
 strength of his army. Fooled into a disastrous re- 
 treat, the British commander kept retiring till he 
 came to Jamestown, where occurred the gallant 
 charge of Wayne, with merely a detachment, on the 
 whole English army. When, from the heavy firing, 
 Lafayette, who was in the rear with the main body, 
 was made aware of the danger of Wayne, he came 
 on a swift gallop to his aid, and, with his usual reck- 
 lessness of his life, and deaf to the remonstrances 
 of his officers, spurred where the volleys were heavi- 
 est, and had two horses shot under him. 
 
 He at length forced Cornwallis into Yot^k, where 
 he entrenched himself. The plan was then formed 
 to hem him in seaward with the French fleet, while 
 Washington, at the head of the allied army, should 
 hasten to form a junction with Lafayette. But it 
 was necessary, in the meantime, that " the boy " 
 
264 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 should keep the old soldier he had so completely 
 outwitted, shut up in his retreat, until these forces 
 could be transported South. Cornwallis saw his 
 danger, and at one time thought seriously of retreat- 
 ing into North Carolina, which he could have done. 
 But Lafayette, by his extraordinary exertions, suc- 
 ceeded in keeping him at bay. He called in the 
 militia to guard all the passages, and had his spies in 
 the very heart of the English camp.* 
 
 The siege and capture of Yorktown followed. 
 During its progress, it was necessary to storm two 
 redoubts. The attacks on both were to be made 
 simultaneously — that of the right being intrusted to 
 Lafayette, at the head of American troops, and the 
 one on the left to the Baron Viomenil, with four 
 
 * Sparks relates an anecdote received from Lafayette too 
 good to be omitted. The Marquis wished to send a spy into 
 the English army, not only to obtain information, but deceive 
 the commander; and Morgan, a Jerseyman, was pointed out 
 to him as a proper person. The brave soldier was ready for 
 any peril for his country, but he hated the character of a spy. 
 He did not care for his life, he said, but for his name. At 
 length, receiving a solemn promise that if he was hung a full 
 account of the matter should be published in the New Jersey 
 papers, he consented, and went over to the enemy. Cornwallis 
 soon sent for him, and in the presence of Tarleton, asked what 
 means Lafayette had of crossing James river. He replied, that 
 he had boats sufficient to transport his whole army across at a 
 moment's warning. Cornwallis, turning to Tarleton, said, 
 " In that case, what 1 said to you cannot be done ;" referring 
 evidently to the proiected retreat south. At length, one day, 
 after the arrival of the fleet, Lafayette found in his quarters 
 six men dressed in the English uniform. Morgan had re- 
 turned, bringing five deserters and a prisoner with him. The 
 brave fellow was offered the rank of sergeant for his behavior, 
 but he refused it, as he did every other offer. The only favor 
 he would ask was the restoration of his gun, which had been 
 lost during his absence. It was found and returned to him. 
 
MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 265 
 
 hundred French grenadiers. The French officer, in 
 speaking of it, intimated that the Americans were 
 not so good as French troops for work of this kind, 
 to which Lafayette simply repHed : " We shall see/' 
 At length the storming parties were arranged, Col- 
 onel Hamilton leading the van of that under the 
 Marquis. The signal to advance was to be two 
 shells fired— one from the American and the other 
 from the French battery. First the shell arose from 
 the American battery, and the moment the flaming 
 missile reached the zenith, that of the French 
 mounted the heavens, and then the shout '' advance," 
 rang along the steady columns. Hamilton, in his 
 headlong courage, never waited for the abatis to be 
 removed, but rushing over it, mounted the parapet 
 with only three men by his side. Gazing back one 
 moment on his crowding followers, with his sword 
 waving over his head, he summoned them on, and 
 then leaped into the ditch. With a loud and thrill- 
 ing shout, the brave fellows stormed after their in- 
 trepid leader, who still far in advance, was for a mo- 
 ment lost sight of, and thought to have fallen. But 
 he was soon seen in the centre of the redoubt, form- 
 ing his men. Not a shot had been fired— the naked 
 steel had done it all, and in nine minutes' time. The 
 Americans carried their redoubt first, and Lafayette 
 remembering what Viomenil had said, sent him word 
 that he had succeeded, and asked if the aid of the 
 Americans was not needed. The latter replied, 
 " Tell Lafayette that I have not yet carried my re- 
 doubt, but shall do so in five minutes." He made 
 good his word. 
 
266 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 After the capitulation of Yorktown, Lafayette 
 again returned to France, loaded with eulogies from 
 Washington and Congress. The French king of- 
 fered him the rank of field-marshal in his army, and 
 honors clustered thick around the youthful brows of 
 the noble champion of liberty. 
 
 In the meantime a powerful armament was fitting 
 out in France and Spain in our behalf, and Lafayette 
 was appointed chief of the staff of the combined 
 armies. But England, at length, reluctantly con- 
 sented to acknowledge our independence — and gave 
 up her vast possessions, which had cost her so much 
 treasure and blood. When the Marquis first heard 
 the news of it, he despatched a vessel, the Triumph, 
 to bring it to this country. He wished to accompany 
 it — to be himself the bearer of the glad tidings, and 
 mingle his joy with that of a ransomed people; but 
 the Spanish court having refused to receive our 
 charge, Mr. Carmichael, he hastened to Madrid to 
 reconcile the difficulties, and in a few days succeeded 
 in putting things on the most amicable footing. 
 Thus, ever ready to sacrifice his own feelings or 
 pleasure for America, he undertook this unpleasant 
 journey, instead of coming to our arms, to be be- 
 dewed with our tears, and covered with our bless- 
 ings. Washington, in an affectionate letter to him, 
 says, " Your going to Madrid from thence,* instead 
 of coming immediately to this country, is another 
 instance, my dear Marquis, of your zeal for the 
 American cause ; and lays a fresh claim to the grati- 
 
 * Referring to Cadiz, where he was superintending the prep- 
 arations of the new armament fitting out for our relief. 
 
MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 267 
 
 tude of her sons, who will always receive you with 
 open arms." 
 
 In 1784, Lafayette, anxious once more to see 
 Washington, again embarked for this country. He 
 was received with every mark of respect, and pressed 
 with invitations in every city — but in eleven days 
 after his arrival he was in the arms of Washington 
 at Mount Vernon. He remained at the latter place 
 fourteen days ; and the intercourse of these two noble 
 and affectionate men, must ever remain one of those 
 touching incidents which are never revealed to the 
 common gaze. They had pressed shoulder to shoul- 
 der together through the battle — slept in the same 
 cloak on the dreadful field of Monmouth — had suf- 
 fered and rejoiced together — and now they stood 
 side by side, and gazed on the land they had freed ; 
 and saw, with the joy patriots only know, a happy 
 people reposing under the tree of liberty. 
 
 He arrived in this country in August, and having 
 visited his old battle-fields, and traversed a large part 
 of the country, set sail again in December, for 
 France. 
 
 His farewell to Congress was impressive. That 
 body had passed a resolution, expressing the grati- 
 tude and affection of this country for him. He 
 closed up his reply with, " May this immense temple 
 of freedom ever stand as a lesson to oppressors, an 
 example for the oppressed, a sanctuary for the rights 
 of mankind! and, may these happy United States 
 attain that complete splendor and prosperity, which 
 will illustrate the blessings of their government ; and, 
 for ages to come, rejoice the departed souls of their 
 
268 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 founders." Washington accompanied him as far as 
 AnnapoHs, and afterwards wrote him a farewell 
 letter, full of simplicity and affection — and it is hard 
 to say, whether it honors him or Lafayette most. 
 
 After his return, he labored arduously to establish 
 such commercial regulations for us, as would be for 
 our own advantage ; and never lost sight of our wel- 
 fare or interest. 
 
 In 1785 he visited Austria, Prussia, and Germany; 
 and was everywhere received, by monarchs and no- 
 bles, with the highest honors. Frederic the Great 
 presented him with his miniature, set in diamonds 
 — complimenting him on his distinguished services 
 in America, and, at the same time, expressing his 
 great admiration of Washington. 
 
 I cannot give an account of his efforts for the 
 emancipation of the blacks, in which he was seconded 
 by Washington, Patrick Henry, Laurens, Jefferson, 
 and others, nor of the interest he took in the cause 
 of the French Protestants. Hating despotism 
 whether it took the form of unjust taxation, domes- 
 tic slavery, or religious intolerance — he showed 
 throughout that he had been in the school of Wash- 
 ington, and lived respected by all. 
 
 But now he was destined to enter upon a new scene 
 — on a succession of tragedies never before enacted 
 on this earth — the French Revolution. It is impos- 
 sible to go into an account of this terrific event, or 
 trace out its causes. France, burdened with debt, 
 taxed to death, and starving, needed help, and an 
 assembly of Notables was convoked, to deliberate on 
 the means to be adopted. Of this Lafayette was a 
 
MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE ^69 
 
 member, and boldly taking ground for reform in 
 every department of government, moved, among 
 other things, the convocation of the States General 
 — which consisted of representatives from the three 
 orders — the nobility, clergy, and untitled middle 
 classes. This extraordinary body assembled, and the 
 great struggle commenced. The Commons wished 
 the three orders to constitute one assembly, to which 
 the haughty clergy and nobility refused their assent. 
 Lafayette, though one of the nobles, sustained man- 
 fully the request of the tiers etat, or lower order. 
 Months passed away in this contest, until at last the 
 Commons resolved to constitute themselves the Na- 
 tional Assembly of France, and did so. 
 
 This was the first revolution. The Marquis then 
 boldly separated himself from the nobility, and 
 joined the Assembly, of which he was soon after 
 chosen vice-president. The famous '' declaration of 
 rights," which is a mere epitome of our Declaration 
 of Independence, was presented by him, and France 
 moved tumultuously towards a republic. He sat in 
 the Assembly at Versailles on that terrible night, 
 when the attack upon it by the troops was expected 
 — firmly resolved to fall at his post. In the mean- 
 time, the Bastile fell, and the great key of that 
 stronghold was sent by him to Washington. 
 
 In the midst of this gathering of the elements, La- 
 fayette, by permission of the king, organized the Na- 
 tional Guard, and placed upon them the " tri-colored 
 cockade." In announcing the event to the Assembly, 
 he made the following remarkable declaration : 
 " Gentlemen, I bring you a cockade which shall make 
 
2/0 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 the tour of the world ; and an institution at once civic 
 and mihtary, which shall change the system of Euro- 
 pean tactics, and reduce all absolute governments to 
 the alternative of being beaten if they do not imitate 
 it, or of being overthrown if they dare oppose it." 
 Bold prophecy, half of which has already been ful- 
 filled. With this guard he succeeded in restoring 
 partial order in the city — but the torrent was only 
 arrested, not dried up. Women, beating drums 
 through the streets and crying " bread," thrilled 
 every heart, and rolled into wilder motion the already 
 excited passions of the people. 
 
 STORMING OF VERSAILLES 
 
 From May till October, had the national repre- 
 sentatives struggled to save France. Met at every 
 turn by the court and aristocracy, surrounded with 
 obstacles their enemies had constantly thrown in 
 their path, and compelled to spend months on the 
 plainest principles of human liberty and justice, they 
 had been utterly unable to relieve the public distress. 
 For this they were not to blame, but the selfish, blind, 
 higher orders. Everything had been compelled to 
 wait but famine. That had never wavered nor fal- 
 tered, but, with ever-increasing proportions and 
 frightful mien, had stalked over the land, turning 
 women into tigers, and men into fiends. 
 
 Suddenly there is a strange and confused uproar 
 on the road from Paris to Versailles. An army of 
 women is on the march for the king's palace. All 
 efforts to disband them have been powerless; and 
 
MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 2/1 
 
 Lafayette, after attempting in vain to keep back the 
 National Guard of 30,000 men, who demand with 
 loud cries to accompany them, is compelled to yield, 
 and they too go thundering along the road. Armed 
 with pikes, hatchets, and sticks pointed with iron, 
 this motley crowd march on foot through the drench- 
 ing rain, measuring the weary leagues with aching 
 limbs, and at length stream around the magnificent 
 palace of Versailles. Wild faces look out from dis- 
 hevelled hair, and haggard features, more fearful 
 than the swaying pikes, move amid this confusion of 
 sexes and hurricane of passion. With eyes upturned 
 to where their monarch dwells, they suddenly shriek 
 out in wild concord, "Bread!" God in heaven! 
 what a cry from women to their king! Regardless 
 of the falling rain and approaching night, and their 
 toilsome journey, those strange faces are still turned 
 to him who alone can relieve their distress. At 
 length, twelve are conducted as deputies, into the 
 presence of the king. One, young and beautiful, 
 overwhelmed at her own boldness, in thus approach- 
 ing her monarch, can only faintly utter the word 
 '' bread, and swoons at his feet." Here was woe, 
 here was suffering, sufficient to bring tears from 
 stones. 
 
 Bread was ordered to be distributed to this fam- 
 ished multitude, but was not, and they wandered 
 about searching in vain for means to alleviate their 
 hunger, till at length they came upon a dead horse, 
 and began in savage ferocity to tear out his entrails, 
 and devour his flesh. Tumult was again abroad, and 
 shots were fired from the palace on the crowd, which 
 
272 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 rush in return up the marble steps, and stream 
 through the royal apartments, demanding blood. 
 But the adored Lafayette is seen moving amid the 
 multitude, and the storm is stayed, and the king is 
 saved. All night long he moved about amid the dis- 
 orderly crew, to calm their excitement; and at five 
 o'clock, lay down with his clothes on to snatch a mo- 
 ment's repose. But the first fierce shout brought him 
 to his feet, and, springing on the first horse he found, 
 he burst in a furious gallop among the mob, who 
 were butchering the Life Guards. Having rescued 
 them and sent them away, he suddenly found him- 
 self alone in presence of one of the murderers, who 
 was aiming his carbine at him. Undismayed, La- 
 fayette ordered the culprit to be brought to him. 
 The awe-struck mob obeyed, and seizing him, dashed 
 out his brains on the pavement. He then hastened 
 to the palace, and the Life Guards, whom he had 
 saved, received him with shouts of " Lafayette for- 
 ever." Leading the king forth upon the balcony, he 
 presented him, and afterwards the queen, to the peo- 
 ple, kissing her majesty's hand in their presence, 
 while "Vive la Reine!" ''Vive Lafayette!" rent 
 the air. The next morning, the shout, '' To Paris ! " 
 was heard, and Louis was compelled, with his family, 
 to take this wild escort to the capital. The tiger was 
 changed into the fiend. The excitement of the day 
 before — the hunger and murder of the night, and 
 the strange spectacle of the morning, had completely 
 unsettled what little reason the rabble had left, and 
 the procession they form for the king — their furious 
 shouts and bacchanalian songs, and disorderly move- 
 
MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 2/3 
 
 nient as they carry a gory head aloft on a pike, mak- 
 ing it nod and bow to the multitude in grim saluta- 
 tion, are enough to appall the stoutest heart. King- 
 ship is ended — reverence is gone, and all after-re- 
 spect and loyalty will be but the spasmodic flame of 
 the dying lamp — Vive le roi! Vive le nation! Vive 
 Lafayette! are alike incoherent and trustless. But 
 fondly believing that France could follow in the steps 
 of America, the intrepid Lafayette moved at the head 
 of his faithful troops, preserving order, and guiding 
 with his steady hand the car of the revolution to- 
 wards a safe goal. 
 
 At length a confederation of the entire realm was 
 resolved upon; to take place on the anniversary of 
 the overthrow of the Bastile. 
 
 SCENE IN THE CHAMP DE MARS 
 
 The world never exhibited such a scene as the 
 Field of Mars presented, previous to, and at this 
 grand celebration. An area of three hundred thou- 
 sand square feet was to be scooped out, and fitted up 
 with balconies, seats, &c. ; while a grand altar, on a 
 base twenty feet high, was to be erected in the centre. 
 There were but fifteen days, in which to make all this 
 preparation, and fifteen thousand men were therefore 
 set to work. A mighty army toiled on that open 
 field; but their united efforts were soon seen to be 
 insufiicient to complete the work in time. The ex- 
 cited populace, determined not to be disappointed, 
 and carried away by an enthusiasm, as sudden as it 
 was fearful, then volunteered their labor. In a mo- 
 
 A. B., VOL. III.— l8 
 
274 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 ment that enthusiasm became madness; and from 
 every quarter came streaming the shouting, singing 
 multitude. Young girls, with green boughs, and 
 tri-color streamers, marched at the head of columns 
 of men with spades and pickaxes on their shoulders, 
 singing as they advanced. Beautiful women, throw- 
 ing aside their hats and shawls, seized the wheelbar- 
 rows, and with dishevelled locks, toiled on beside the 
 brawny laborers — gay young men stripped to the 
 task — whole families dashed into the area — the great, 
 the noble, and the learned came, and shouted and 
 heaved away, till a hundred and fifty thousand of all 
 ages, and sexes, and conditions, were gathered in one 
 mighty throng, working and singing on in the July 
 sun. The whole city turned out — advocates and 
 judges — nuns from the convent, with singers from 
 the opera seized the spade or barrow ; and amid the 
 deafening strain of Ca ira — the work went bravely 
 on. " Beautifullest Hebes, the loveliest in Paris, in 
 their light air-robes, with ribbon girdles of tri-color, 
 are there; — shovelling and wheeling with the rest; 
 their Hebe-eyes brightening with enthusiasm, and 
 long hair, in beautiful dishevelment — hard pressed 
 are their small fingers; but they make the patriot 
 barrow go, and even force it to the summit of the 
 slope, (with a little tracing which, what man's arm 
 were not too happy to lend?) then bound down with 
 it again, and go for more ; with their long locks and 
 tri-colors blown back — graceful as the rosy hours."* 
 Lafayette came and looked on ; and the king, at last, 
 carried away by this whirlwind of feeling, also 
 * Vide Carlyle's " French Revolution." 
 
MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 275 
 
 comes, and spades are lifted on high, and ** Vive le 
 roi " rends the air. 
 
 Such was the scene which the last night previous 
 to the grand celebration, presented; and never did 
 the setting sun throw his farewell beams on a 
 stranger spectacle. Paris was mad, crazy; and the 
 whole population in a frenzy of excitement. But, 
 at length, the crowd began slowly to retire to their 
 homes, and the Champ de Mars was deserted. The 
 next morning the multitude again assembled, in their 
 gayest apparel; and soon three hundred thousand 
 men and women crowded that vast amphitheatre. 
 A hundred thousand men accompanied Lafayette 
 and the king in joyful procession. 
 
 Mounted on a splendid white charger, the Marquis 
 enters this spacious area, with sixty thousand troops ; 
 while the braying of trumpets, and shouts of ten 
 times ten thousand voices, make the very heavens 
 reel. Three hundred priests stand at the four cor- 
 ners of the altar, and celebrate mass, amid the peal- 
 ing of trumpets and thunder of cannon. A sudden 
 silence succeeds the uproar, and the deep breathing 
 of that vast throng, is like the sigh of the sea. La- 
 fayette then moves forward, and is borne from his 
 steed on the shoulders of grenadiers, to the altar, and 
 placing the point of his sword upon it, swears to 
 defend the constitution to the last. The thunder of 
 artillery, and shouts of the people answer. The 
 king then advances, and with the queen in the back- 
 ground, holding her infant son in her arms, repeats 
 the solemn oath. A thousand standards are lowered 
 at once — the cannon again roar forth their stern ap- 
 
2/6 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 proval; and such a shout goes up, as never before 
 shook the earth — " France is free! " rings out on 
 every side, and universal joy fills the heart of the 
 nation. 
 
 Lafayette was greater than the king on this day; 
 and every eye looked to him as the saviour of his 
 country. 
 
 It is impossible, in this brief sketch, to follow him 
 through all the scenes of the revolution. Firm — 
 mild — his integrity undoubted, and his republicanism 
 unquestioned, he moved for awhile like an ark of 
 safety, amid this sudden and fearful deluge. At the 
 head of his thirty-thousand troops, he carried more 
 authority with him than the king or Assembly. 
 
 The next year a revolt broke out in the Champ de 
 Mars, which he no sooner heard of, than he marched 
 to quell it with twelve hundred grenadiers. On his 
 way, a traitor in the ranks fired a pistol at him, but 
 missed his aim. When he came up to the crowd, he 
 ordered them to disperse, but only received a shower 
 of stones in reply. Firing a volley over their heads 
 with no better success, he ordered a volley point- 
 blank, which brought down a hundred men, and dis- 
 persed the rest. These energetic measures awed the 
 insurgents, and had they been followed up, would 
 have prevented the reign of terror. But unsustained 
 by the royal authority, he could not carry out the 
 measures he knew to be indispensable to the safety 
 of France, and so the revolution went rolling for- 
 ward to that awful gulf into which it at last sunk. 
 
 At the close of the constituent Assembly, he re- 
 signed his command of the National Guard, and 
 
MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 277 
 
 retired to private life. But when tlie war broke out 
 with Austria, he was appointed one of the three 
 commanders of the French army, and hastened to the 
 frontiers on the Rhine. All this time he kept up a 
 constant correspondence with Washington. 
 
 While he was here straining every nerve to save 
 the honor of the French army, he heard of that dis- 
 gusting scene enacted by thirty thousand men and 
 women in the hall of the Assembly, and the after 
 insult offered to the king in the Tuileries ; and imme- 
 diately hastened to Paris. Denouncing the Jacobins, 
 the authors of these outrages, he made one more des- 
 perate effort to save the revolution; and earnestly 
 besought the king to let him break up the Jacobin 
 club, that nest of vipers. But his request was re- 
 fused, and the besotted monarch, too proud to re- 
 sign, and too weak to rule, let this mob power have 
 way, till it usurped the government. Lafayette then 
 attempted to save the royal family, offering to con- 
 duct them out of the kingdom. They refusing his 
 generous proposal, he hastened back to the army, 
 determined to wait the issue of things. He saw 
 clearly the tempest that was gathering, but knew it 
 was now too late to arrest it. He had done all 
 he could, and but for the imbecile king, would have 
 saved all. 
 
 Soon after the insurrection of the loth of August 
 took place; the Tuileries ran blood, and amid the 
 storm and terror of that day, the Bourbon dynasty 
 closed. The Jacobins seized the reins of govern- 
 ment, and immediately sent commissioners to the 
 army, announcing the change in affairs. But La- 
 
278 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 fayette would not receive them, and ordered them to 
 be imprisoned. He was in turn accused as a traitor, 
 and measures set on foot to arrest him. Deserted by 
 his associate generals, and seeing that the army was 
 going also, he determined to abandon France and 
 seek an asylum in this country, where liberty could 
 be enjoyed without anarchy. But being seized on his 
 way by the Austrian authorities, he was treated as a 
 prisoner of war. It is true, the magnanimous des- 
 pots of Austria and Prussia offered him freedom if 
 he would renounce his republican principles. Refus- 
 ing to do this, he was cast into a dungeon, and after 
 being tossed about from prison to prison, by those 
 royal villains — who, destitute alike of honor or of 
 truth, coolly covered themselves with infamy in pres- 
 ence of the civilized world — was transferred to the 
 gloomy dungeons of Olmutz, in Austria. Of the 
 sympathy this act of atrocity awakened in the bosoms 
 of all true men — of the efforts of Washington and 
 other Americans in his behalf, and the noble devotion 
 of his wife, who shared his imprisonment, I shall say 
 nothing. The noble attempt made by J. Errick Boll- 
 man, a German physician, and Francis Huger, son 
 of Colonel Huger, of South Carolina, at whose house 
 Lafayette was first received on his arrival in this 
 country, have rendered their names immortal. These 
 men of heroic virtue, were thrown into prison for 
 their bold and well-nigh successful effort, where they 
 languished for eight months. After their release, 
 they still exerted themselves in behalf of Lafayette, 
 though without success. 
 
 In the meantime, the young Napoleon had 
 
MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 279 
 
 mounted to power, and was rolling the revolutionary 
 earthquake under the thrones of Europe. He smote 
 Austria hip and thigh in Italy; and at the peace of 
 Leoben, made one of the chief stipulations, the re- 
 lease of Lafayette from imprisonment. With much 
 reluctance it was acceded to, though the perfidious 
 government endeavored first to make their prisoner 
 promise to go to America, never to return. This the 
 indignant patriot firmly refused to do, even to ter- 
 minate his long imprisonment. The king delaying 
 and deferring, young Bonaparte gave him to under- 
 stand in the most peremptory manner, that unless the 
 Marquis was immediately released, he would soon 
 hear the thunder of his cannon. This argument was 
 understood ; and Lafayette, after having suffered fLvc 
 years a close and cruel confinement, was at length 
 permitted to go abroad. This first effort of Napo- 
 leon's power, does him more honor than his victories. 
 After his release, Lafayette went first to Holstein, 
 and afterwards to Holland; where he remained till 
 the revolution, which made Napoleon First Consul 
 for life; and then, under his mighty aegis, returned to 
 France, and received his old rank in the army. He 
 was attached to the First Consul, and well he might 
 be, for he owed him liberty, and the restoration to 
 his old honors and home. Still he was not a person 
 to sympathize with the fierce tempestuous character 
 that was to upset the world ; and Bonaparte felt that 
 Lafayette was a man of a past age, and could effect 
 nothing in carrying out his stupendous plans. Never- 
 theless, he revered his virtues, and endeavored to 
 bind him to his interests, but the latter gradually re- 
 
2 8o AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 tired to private life ; and when the former began his 
 rapid strides towards supreme power, wrote him a 
 plain kind letter, asking for guaranties of the liberties 
 of the people. This letter was never answered, and 
 the writer was well-nigh forgotten in the wondrous 
 events that succeeded. In the retirement of La 
 Grange he listened to the thunder and tumult that 
 accompanied Napoleon's progress; saw the century- 
 bound despotisms of Europe shaking, like cedars in 
 a tempest as his mighty hand swept over them, and 
 heard the sound of falling thrones, with feelings of 
 mingled wonder and distrust. It seemed a strange 
 dream through which he had passed — from the 
 bright dawnings of liberty, his country had sunk into 
 the darkest night that ever shrouded a nation, and 
 then suddenly risen into a vast empire, from whose 
 presence the world shrank in dismay. It was natural, 
 in this confusion of all things at home, he should 
 turn his thoughts to the peaceful Republic he had 
 helped to rear on this side of the water. He made 
 known his intentions to Washington, but political 
 considerations induced the latter to request him to 
 defer his visit, and he continued to live in retirement. 
 But when Jefferson became president, he offered him 
 the governorship of Louisiana, which was declined. 
 At length the star of Napoleon went down; but 
 before the nation had time to compose itself, it rose 
 again on the troubled world. At his second assump- 
 tion of imperial power, Bonaparte endeavored to win 
 Lafayette over to his interests, but the latter stub- 
 bornly refused to accept a seat in his new Chamber of 
 Peers — preferring to act as one of the deputies. 
 
MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 28 I 
 
 After the battle of Waterloo, he took strong 
 ground against the emperor ; and was one of those 
 who procured his abdication. Mindful, however, of 
 his former kindness to him, when a prisoner at 
 Olmutz, he endeavored to stipulate for his personal 
 safety and liberty. At the restoration of the Bour- 
 bons, he solemnly warned them against any attempts 
 to revive old despotisms ; but his warnings were un- 
 heeded, and he again sunk into private life, a victim 
 to his integrity and unyielding patriotism. 
 
 HIS LAST VISIT TO THIS COUNTRY 
 
 Again, in his old age, Lafayette determined to look 
 on the young Republic that had escaped the disasters 
 which had overwhelmed France. When his plans 
 were made known, our government offered to place 
 a national vessel at his disposal ; but he declined ac- 
 cepting it, and embarked at Havre in a merchant- 
 man, and arrived at New York, August 15, 1824. 
 He was at this time sixty-seven years old. 
 
 His reception in this country, and triumphal march 
 through it, is one of the most remarkable events in 
 the history of the world. Such gratitude and un- 
 bounded affection were never before received by a 
 man from a foreign nation. As he passed from 
 Staten Island to New York, the bay was covered 
 with gay barges decorated with streamers ; and when 
 the beautiful fleet shoved away, the bands struck up, 
 '' Oil pcut-on etre mieux, qiiaii scin de sa famillef "" 
 — " Where can one better be, than in the bosom of 
 his family?" Never did this favorite French air 
 
282 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 seem so appropriate — not even when the shattered 
 Old Guard closed sternly around its Emperor, and 
 sang it amid the fire of the enemy's guns — as when 
 a free people thus chanted it around the venerable 
 Lafayette. As he touched the shore, the thunder of 
 cannon shook the city — old soldiers rushed weeping 
 into his arms; and, '' Welcome, Lafayette! " waved 
 from every banner, rung from every trumpet, and 
 was caught up by every voice, till " welcome, wel- 
 come! " rose and fell in deafening shouts from the 
 assembled thousands. During the four days he re- 
 mained in the city, it was one constant jubilee; and 
 when he left for Boston, all along his route, the peo- 
 ple rose to welcome him. He travelled every night 
 till twelve o'clock, and watch-fires were kept burning 
 on the hill-tops, along his line of progress. Blazing 
 through the darkness, they outshone the torches that 
 heralded him ; while in the distance the pealing of 
 bells from every church spire, announced his coming. 
 The same enthusiastic joy received him at Boston; 
 and when he returned to New York, the city was 
 wilder than ever with excitement. In Castle-garden 
 there was a splendid illumination in honor of him — 
 the bridge leading to it was surmounted by a pyra- 
 mid sixty feet high, with a blazing star at the top, 
 from the centre of which flashed the name of Lafay- 
 ette. The planks were covered with carpets, and 
 trees and flowers innumerable lined the passage. 
 Over the entrance was a triumphal arch of flowers — 
 hugh columns arose from the area, supporting arches 
 of flowers, and flags, and statues. As he entered this 
 wilderness of beauty, the bands struck up, " See the 
 
MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 283 
 
 conquering hero comes," and shouts shook the edifice 
 to its foundations. He had scarcely taken his seat 
 in a splendid marquee, prepared for his reception, 
 when the curtain before the gallery, in front of him, 
 lifted — and there was a beautiful transparency, rep- 
 resenting La Grange, with its grounds and towers, 
 and beneath it, " This is his home/' Nothing could 
 be more touching and affectionate than this device; 
 and as Lafayette's eye fell upon it, a tear was seen to 
 gather there, and his lip to quiver with feeling. 
 
 Thus the people received the " people's friend." 
 From New York he went to Albany, and Troy, and 
 one long shout of welcome rolled the length of the 
 Hudson, as he floated up the noble stream. Return- 
 ing, he went to Philadelphia; and passing through 
 the same scenes that had been enacted in every city 
 he had visited, continued his route to Mount Vernon, 
 to visit the tomb of Washington. The thunder of 
 cannon announced his arrival at the consecrated 
 ground, calling to his mind the time when he had 
 seen that, now lifeless chieftain, move through the 
 tumult of battle. Wishing no one to witness his 
 emotions, as he stood beside the ashes of his friend, 
 he descended alone into the vault. With trembling 
 steps, and uncovered head, he passed down to the 
 tomb. The secrets of that meeting of the living with 
 the dead, no one knows ; but when the aged veteran 
 came forth again, his face was covered with tears. 
 He then took his son, and secretary by the hand, and 
 led them into the vault. He could not speak — his 
 bursting heart was too full for utterance, and he 
 mutely pointed to the coffin of Washington. They 
 
284 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 knelt reverently beside it, kissed it, then rising, threw 
 themselves into Lafayette's arms, and burst into 
 tears. It was a touching scene, there in the silent 
 vault, and worthy the noble sleeper. 
 
 From thence he went to Yorktown, where a mag- 
 nificent reception was given him. Proceeding South, 
 he passed through all the principal cities, to New 
 Orleans, and thence up the Mississippi, to Cincin- 
 nati, and across to Pittsburg, and finally to western 
 New York, through which he hastened rapidly to 
 Boston, to be present at the laying of the corner- 
 stone of the Bunker's Hill monument. 
 
 Previously to his southern trip, however, he had 
 visited Congress, and been received by that body with 
 distinguished honor. A few days after, a bill was 
 passed, giving him a hundred and forty thousand 
 dollars, as payment, in part, for the money he had 
 expended in our behalf. He had clothed and fed our 
 naked, starving soldiers at his own cost — expended 
 money for the State — fought our battles — endured, 
 suffered, and toiled for our welfare ; yet he never 
 asked, never expected compensation. It had been en- 
 tirely a free-will offering — his youth, his wealth, his 
 life, all, an unselfish, noble sacrifice to a weak, but 
 brave people, struggling to be free. 
 
 This generous, and yet only just remuneration, 
 took Lafayette by surprise, and affected him deeply. 
 Indeed, to a heart like his, the open arms and over- 
 flowing affection of the people were a sufficient 
 reward. The entire nation had risen to do him hom- 
 age. " Honor to Lafayette," " Welcome to Lafay- 
 ette — the nation's guest," and such like exclamations^ 
 
MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 285 
 
 had met him at every step. Flowers were strewed 
 along his pathway — his carriage detached from the 
 horses, and dragged by the enthusiastic crowd, along 
 ranks of grateful freemen, who rent the heavens with 
 their acclamations. From the heads of government 
 down to the lowest menial, all had united in pouring 
 blessings on his venerable head. Melted to tears by 
 these demonstrations of love, he had moved like a 
 father amid his children, scattering blessings wher- 
 ever he went. 
 
 One of his last acts in this country, was to lay the 
 corner-stone of the Bunker Hill monument. He had 
 placed the stone over Baron De Kalb's grave, in 
 South Carolina, and now it was fit that he, the last 
 survivor of the major-generals of the American 
 Revolution, should consecrate the first block in that 
 grand structure. Amid the silent attention of fifty 
 thousand spectators, this aged veteran, and friend of 
 Washington, with uncovered head, performed the 
 imposing ceremonies, and '' Long live Lafayette," 
 swelled up from the top of Bunker Hill. 
 
 At length, after having passed through almost the 
 entire Union, in the space of a few months, he em- 
 barked the eighth of September, for his native land. 
 The Brandyzvine was sent out by government to con- 
 vey him home; and when it reached Havre, the offi- 
 cers, wishing to express their admiration of him, 
 deputed their first lieutenant, Gregory, to convey 
 their sentiments. The young officer, overcome by 
 his feelings, was unable to utter a word ; but in a 
 spirit of true heroism, ran to the stern of the vessel, 
 and snatching the flag that waved there, handed it 
 
286 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 to him, saying : " We cannot confide it to more 
 glorious keeping." He then made a short address, 
 to which Lafayette repHed, saying: '' I hope, that 
 displayed from the most prominent part of my house, 
 at La Grange, it will always testify to all who may 
 see it, the kindness of the American nation towards 
 its adopted and devoted son." 
 
 The people thronged around him as he travelled 
 through France, and he was everywhere hailed ** The 
 people's friend." 
 
 In public and private duties — in the service of his 
 country, and in acts of private charity, he passed his 
 life, until 1830, when Charles X. — mad, like all his 
 race — issued his tyrannical ordinances, which pro- 
 duced the revolution that placed Louis Philippe on 
 the throne. With the first intimation of the out- 
 break, he hastened to Paris, and at once took sides 
 with the people. On the second day's fight, the stu- 
 dents of the Polytechnic School assembled at his 
 house to receive instructions in the course they should 
 pursue. Lafayette was a man of a past generation, 
 but his name had been a household word ; and it was 
 a touching spectacle to see those fresh and youthful 
 students gather around the man of silver locks, and 
 listen to the words of freedom that dropped from his 
 lips, and then go forth to lay down their lives for 
 their country. On the last day of that terrible strug- 
 gle, — amid the pealing of the tocsin, the thunder of 
 cannon, and groans of the dying, the name of La- 
 fayette was the watch-word that rung over the tu- 
 mult, and roused the courage of the patriots. Again 
 the Bourbon throne went down in blood, and again 
 
MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 287 
 
 Lafayette put aside the power, which a successful 
 revolution had placed in his hands. Louis Philippe 
 was called to the throne, which the arm of Lafayette 
 alone steadied till the revolution subsided. 
 
 It was not very long, however, before he and the 
 king's cabinet disagreed. Louis Philippe had prom- 
 ised to protect the liberties of the people; but no 
 sooner did he feel the sceptre in his hand, than the 
 blood of a Bourbon began to tingle in his fingers. 
 He had deceived Lafayette — but what could the lat- 
 ter do? The first revolution broke away from his 
 restraining influence, and raged on till it was 
 quenched in a sea of blood itself had set flowing. 
 Bonaparte had deceived him, and grasped imperial 
 power, and now Louis Philippe had proved false to 
 his promises. 
 
 He lived but four years after this, and died of an 
 affection of the kidneys, in 1834, in his seventy- 
 seventh year. His death produced a great sensation 
 in this country, and funeral honors were everywhere 
 paid him. 
 
 HIS CHARACTER 
 
 Lafayette was about six feet in height, and in his 
 later years somewhat corpulent. His face was oval, 
 with light, large, and prominent eyes, a high fore- 
 head and aquiline nose. 
 
 He did not possess what is commonly termed 
 genius, nor was he a man of remarkable intellectual 
 powers. In youth, ardent and adventurous, he soon 
 learned, under Washington, to curb his impulses, and 
 act more from his judgment. Left to himself, he 
 
288 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 probably never would have reached any great emi- 
 nence — but there could have been no better school 
 for the fiery young republican, than the family of 
 Washington. His affection and reverence for the 
 latter, gradually changed his entire character. 
 Washington was his model, and imitating his self- 
 control and noble patriotism, he became like him in 
 patriotism and virtue. The difference between them 
 was the same as that between an original and a copy. 
 Washington was a man of immense strength of 
 character — not only strong in virtue, but in intellect 
 and will. Everything bent before him, and the en- 
 tire nation took its impress from his mind. Lafay- 
 ette was strong in integrity, and nothing could shake 
 his unalterable devotion to the welfare of man. En- 
 thusiastically wedded to republican institutions, no 
 temptation could induce him to seize on, or aid 
 power which threatened to overthrow them. Al- 
 though somewhat vain and conceited, he was gen- 
 erous, self-sacrificing, and benevolent. Few men 
 have passed through so many and so fearful scenes 
 as he. From a young courtier, he passed into the 
 self-denying, toilsome life of a general in the ill- 
 clothed, ill-fed, and ill-disciplined American army — 
 thence into the vortex of the French Revolution and 
 all its horrors — thence into the gloomy prison of 
 Olmutz. After a few years of retirement, he ap- 
 peared on our shores to receive the welcome of a 
 grateful people, and hear a nation shout his praise, 
 and bear him from one limit of the land to another 
 in its arms. A few years pass by, and with his gray 
 hairs falling about his aged countenance, he stands 
 
MAJOR-GENERAL LAFAYETTE 289 
 
 amid the students of Paris, and sends his feeble 
 shout of defiance to the throne of the Bourbon, and 
 it falls. Rising more by his virtue than his intellect, 
 he holds a prominent place in the history of France, 
 and linked with Washington, goes down to a greater 
 immortality than awaits any emperor or mere war- 
 rior of the human race. 
 
 His love for this country was deep and abiding. 
 To the last his heart turned hither, and well it might : 
 — his career of glory began on our shores — on our 
 cause he staked his reputation, fortune, and life, and 
 in our success received the benediction of the good 
 the world over. That love was returned with in- 
 terest, and never was a nobler exhibition of a nation's 
 gratitude than our reception of him at his last visit. 
 We love him for what he did for us — we revere him 
 for his consistency to our principles amid all the 
 chaos and revolutions of Europe ; and when we cease 
 to speak of him with affection and gratitude, we shall 
 show ourselves unworthy of the blessings we have 
 received at his hand. "Honor to Lafayette!" 
 will ever stand inscribed on our temple of liberty 
 until its ruins shall cover all it now contains. 
 
LIFE OF 
 BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 
 
 BY 
 
 J. T. HEADLEY 
 
 A. B., VOL. III. — 19 
 
BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 
 
 His Early Life.— Heads a Forlorn Hope against the Chero- 
 kees. — Fires the last cannon in the Battle of Fort Moultrie. 
 — Bravery at Savannah. — Breaks his leg by leaping from a 
 window in Charleston. — Is hunted from cover to cover. — 
 Left alone in the Field. — Joins Gates. — Appointed over a 
 Brigade. — Its appearance, and that of Marion. — His first 
 Expedition. — Fight at the Black Mingo. — Camp at Snow's 
 Island. — Pursued by Tarleton. — By Watson, and defeats 
 him. — His camp destroyed by Doyle. — Battle of King's 
 Mountain. — Joined by Lee. — Takes Forts Watson and 
 Motte. — Takes Georgetown. — Pefeats Frazier. — Bravery at 
 Eutaw. — Affair at Quimby Bridge. — Takes his seat in the 
 Legislature. — Retires to his farm. — His marriage. — Noble 
 conduct in the Senate. — His Character and Death. 
 
 Marion^ Sumpter^ and Lee are names immor- 
 talized in the annals of Southern warfare. These 
 did not rank as major-generals in the army, yet they 
 commanded more or less separate portions of the 
 country, and frequently carried on an independent 
 warfare. They were partisan leaders ; and as par- 
 tisan war, especially in the South, constituted such 
 an important feature in our Revolutionary struggle, 
 I venture to depart from my original plan, and place 
 Marion — the chief of them, in the group of major- 
 generals. Though usually operating in small de- 
 tachments, the combined action and influence of 
 
 293 
 
294 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 those leaders were equal to that of a division of the 
 army, and for a long time the fate of the Carolinas 
 was in their keeping. A partisan warfare calls into 
 action qualities different from those needed in a com- 
 mander-in-chief. Celerity, boldness, and personal 
 prowess are usually the characteristics of a partisan 
 officer. Stratagems take the place of extensive com- 
 binations, and secret excursions that of an open cam- 
 paign. Reckless daring is better than discipline; 
 for the sudden onset is demanded oftener than the 
 open field-fight. A good partisan leader may be- 
 come an able commander of an army, though, to be 
 the former, it is not necessary one should possess the 
 qualities of the latter. 
 
 A predatory warfare was carried on to some ex- 
 tent by the Indians all along our north-western, and 
 western frontiers, furnishing occasions to exhibit the 
 hardihood and valor of our early settlers ; but in the 
 South it became a permanent thing, and assumed a 
 settled character. The presence of a great army 
 would swallow up for a while these independent 
 companies; but at the withdrawal, or defeat of the 
 former, the latter sprung again into existence, and 
 hung like a cloud around the victorious enemy. No 
 sooner did Lincoln surrender at Charleston, than 
 from every swamp of the Carolinas started up bands 
 of resolute men, ready to dispute with the invader 
 the right to the soil. Out of the wreck of Gates's 
 army arose, phoenix-like, a new form of opposition, 
 Which showed the thrice-conquered country uncon- 
 quered still. 
 
 Marion's career embodies more of romance, per- 
 
BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 295 
 
 sonal adventure, hairbreadth escapes, wild daring, 
 and heroic courage than usually falls to the lot of 
 any man. During all that distressful period when 
 our country was bleeding at every pore, his patriot- 
 ism burned v^ith a pure flame, and his hand was ever 
 ready to strike. Whether we behold him in his soli- 
 tary island encampment, amid the dark pine-trees, on 
 whose branches his sentinels sit — eating his rude 
 meal by the light of the blazing fire, or stealing with 
 his chosen band of horsemen, by midnight, through 
 the forest, to the unsuspecting enemy; or bursting, 
 with his fierce war cry, on the British dragoons, or 
 with sword waving above his head, leading his brave 
 militia to the shock of the bayonet; he is the same 
 cautious, daring, prompt, and resolute man. From 
 the shades of the gloomy swamp — by the light of his 
 lonely watch-fires — in the midst of battle — that same 
 swarthy, calm, thoughtful face, looks steadily upon 
 us, and that piercing black eye holds our earnest 
 gaze. Through all the changes that came and went 
 like shadows over the distracted South, the shout of 
 " Marion's men " rings cheerily out, and their rifle- 
 shot is heard, sending hope and courage through 
 thousands of brave, but desponding hearts. 
 
 Francis Marion was born at Winyah, near 
 Georgetown, South Carolina, in 1732 — the same 
 year which gave birth to Washington. His grand- 
 father was one of the Huguenots of France, who fled 
 to this country to escape persecution at home. Of 
 diminutive proportions, and feeble frame, he seemed 
 destined to an early grave, rather than to the long 
 and arduous career he pursued with such honor to 
 
296 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 himself, and good to his country. But at twelve 
 years of age his health became firm, and that defiant, 
 untamed spirit, which afterwards characterized him, 
 began to exhibit itself. At sixteen he undertook a 
 voyage to the West Indies, and was ship-wrecked. 
 Six days in an open boat on the sea, without pro- 
 visions, except a dead dog, and without water, seem 
 to have cured him of his roving propensities ; and he 
 retired to the farm of his father. 
 
 He had but just arrived at maturity, when his 
 father died — and after a short residence with his 
 mother and brother Gabriel, he removed to Bell Isle, 
 near Eutaw Springs, where he ever afterwards lived, 
 and where his bones now rest. At the commence- 
 ment of the French and Indian war, he enlisted as a 
 private in a regiment of cavalry commanded by his 
 brother. Afterwards he was appointed lieutenant 
 under Moultrie, in an expedition against the Chero- 
 kees; and in an attack on them at Etchoee, led a 
 forlorn hope of thirty-one men, only ten of whom 
 escaped unwounded. The battle raged with sangui- 
 nary ferocity for six hours, when the savages gave 
 way. After the peace, he returned to his farm, and 
 between the labors of the field and the excitement of 
 hunting, passed his life till the eventful year of 1775. 
 The quarrel with the mother country then assuming 
 a more alarming aspect, he entered warmly into the 
 cause of the colonies, and was elected member of the 
 provincial Congress of South Carolina. Casting his 
 vote in favor of the act that bound the South and 
 North together in a common brotherhood, he soon 
 after received from that body the commission of cap- 
 
BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 297 
 
 tain In one of the three regiments raised for tlie de- 
 fence of the colony. From this time till June of the 
 next year, he was busy recruiting his regiment, dis- 
 ciplining his men, and performing the various duties 
 of his station.* His company composed a part of 
 that gallant few, who so bravely defended Fort 
 Moultrie for eleven hours against the combined at- 
 tack of the British fleet. It is said the last gun fired 
 on that day was directed by him. As the ships were 
 retiring, he gave them a parting salute, and so well 
 aimed was the piece, that the shot struck the cabin 
 of the commander's^ ship, killing two young officers 
 drinking at the table, then coursing onward, shat- 
 tered in pieces three sailors in its passage, and, 
 finally, bathed in the blood of its foes, " sunk with 
 sullen joy to the bottom." This was but a presage 
 of the destruction he was yet to carry through the 
 ranks of the enemy — merely a messenger of deeds 
 to be done. 
 
 After the battle, he continued for a while in com- 
 mand of the fort, but was engaged in no important 
 action till the fatal attack on Savannah, by Count 
 D'Estaing and General Lincoln. In the attempt to 
 carry the town by storm, Marion was in the column 
 led on by the gallant Laurens, and saw with the 
 deepest indignation the terrible sacrifice of life that 
 succeeded. 
 
 In the defence and fall of Charlestown, which fol- 
 lowed, Marion took no part, and hence was saved to 
 the country in a time when his services were most 
 needed. The merest accident, however, prevented 
 his sharing the fate of Lincoln and his army. Soon 
 
298 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 after the siege commenced, he was invited, with a 
 party of friends, to dine at the house of a gentleman 
 in the city. x\fter dinner, the host good-naturedly 
 turned the key of the door on his guests, declaring 
 that none should depart till they were all well filled 
 with wine. Marion was a man of temperate, ab- 
 stemious habits, and not wishing to offend his host 
 by raising a disturbance with his half-tipsy com- 
 panions, coolly threw up a window and leaped out. 
 They were dining in the second story, and Marion 
 came to the ground with such force, that he broke 
 his ankle. This rendered him unfit for service, and 
 he was carried on a litter out of the place, so as not 
 to add to the burdens of the besieged. 
 
 After the fall of Charleston and defeat of Beau- 
 fort, the whole siurrounding country was in posses- 
 sion of the enemy, and Marion's position became 
 exceedingly critical. Hunted from cover to cover, 
 and too crippled to help himself, he was entirely de- 
 pendent on his friends for safety. Sometimes in the 
 thicket, and sometimes in the field, he lurked from 
 one place of concealment to another, until he was at 
 length able to ride on horseback; when, gathering 
 around him a few friends, he started for North 
 Carolina, to join Baron de Kalb on his way thither 
 from Virginia. Poor and penniless, without any 
 prospect of pay, and impelled only by a devoted love 
 to his country, he pursued his weary way northward. 
 Horry, his companion and friend, in speaking of 
 their poverty, says, " except for carrying a knife, or 
 a horse-fleam, or a gun-flint, we had no more use 
 for a pocket than a Highlander has for a knee- 
 
BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 299 
 
 buckle. As to hard money, we had not seen a dol- 
 lar for years." 
 
 In the meantime, Gates had superseded De Kalb, 
 and commenced that series of blunders which ended 
 in his overthrow, and the destruction of the army. 
 Marion joined him with but twenty men, all told, 
 and a most sorry company they were. Mounted on 
 such horses as they could get, clad in tattered gar- 
 ments, with small leather caps on their heads, and 
 equipped with rusty firelocks, powder-horns, and 
 scarce a bayonet among tliem, they moved the mirth 
 of the regular soldiers, and the contempt of Gates. 
 But this brave partisan was worth a hundred of such 
 men as Gates, and had the latter consulted him, his 
 fate might have been different. From Marion's side 
 the militia were never known to fly, as they did from 
 their leaders in the disastrous battle of Camden. 
 But he was spared the pain of witnessing the errors 
 that preceded and brought on the action, and per- 
 haps the death he would doubtless have sought be- 
 side the brave De Kalb. For while in camp, he re- 
 ceived a message from the Whigs of Williamsburg, 
 to become their leader, and immediately departed to 
 take command. Gates, sure of victory, ordered him 
 to destroy all the scows and boats on the way, so as 
 to prevent the doomed Cornwallis from escaping. 
 The brigade over which he found himself, was com- 
 posed of undisciplined, but brave and hardy men, 
 accustomed to the use of firearms, and fatal marks- 
 men. Its after history was one of patient toil, pri- 
 vations, perilous adventures, and heroic deeds, un- 
 surpassed in the annals of partisan warfare. 
 
300 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 At this time, Marion received his commission as 
 brigadier, from Governor Rutledge; though from 
 his dress one would never have supposed him to be 
 a general. He was now forty-eight years of age, 
 small, lean, and swarthy, but firmly set, and of iron 
 sinews. He wore a scarlet-colored outer jacket, of 
 coarse cloth, and a leather cap with a silver crescent 
 in front, on which was inscribed " Liberty or 
 Death." His new troops were no better equipped 
 than himself ; but their wants were few, and if they 
 could but get arms and ammunition, the regimentals 
 could be dispensed with. In order to supply them- 
 selves with swords, they took the saws from the 
 neighboring saw-mills, and hammered them into 
 stout blades ; which, though not of Damascus temper 
 and polish, would, in the brawny hands that wielded 
 them, cleave a man to the spine at a blow. Without 
 tents or baggage, with but few blankets — their in- 
 trepid leader having but one to serve both for his 
 bed and covering — they mounted their fleet horses 
 and entered on their adventurous career. They 
 were bold riders, and could fire as well from the 
 saddle as from the ground; and proud and careful 
 of their steeds, often starved their own stomachs to 
 feed them. Marion, soon after he set out, obtained 
 a splendid horse, from a Tory, named Ball, which 
 would outstrip the wind in speed, and could swim 
 like a dog. Many a dark nig^t, when the horses of 
 his column would refuse to enter a deep river, the 
 farther shore of which could not be seen, has Ball 
 boldly plunged into the stream with his fearless mas- 
 ter, and drawn the whole troop after him. 
 
BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 30I 
 
 Thus equipped and thus commanded, this mounted 
 brigade started off on its first expedition. At .the 
 outset, Marion showed his men what kind of service 
 he expected of them. Ordering them to ride all 
 night, he came up in the morning with a large party 
 of Tories encamped at Butler's Neck, and fell on 
 them with such suddenness and fury, that the whole 
 party was scattered as if a whirlwind had swept 
 through it. 
 
 Many of those who composed Marion's troops, 
 were men of amazing physical strength — daring 
 riders, and desperate fighters. In this first encoun- 
 ter, one of them, named James,* made at Major 
 Gainey, who commanded the Tories, and chased him 
 for a half a mile along the road. Leaning over his 
 saddle, with his drawn sword in his hand, he swept 
 onward in such a headlong gallop, that he soon left 
 all his companions far behind. With his flashing 
 eye fixed on his antagonist, on whom he was gain- 
 ing at every spring, he did not see that he was dash- 
 ing, all alone, into a large body of Tories, who had 
 rallied in their flight. Not a moment was to be lost 
 — to retreat was impossible — and without tightening 
 the rein, he waved his sword over his head, and 
 shouting, as if a whole troop were at his back : 
 *' Come on, boys; here they are! " burst like a thun- 
 derbolt into their very midst. The whole party 
 broke without firing a shot, and fled to the swamps. 
 
 Halting only long enough to rest his men and 
 horses, Marion went in search of another detach- 
 
 * There were five brothers of this name, all in Marion's bri- 
 gade ; and noble men they were. 
 
302 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 ment of Tories. On coming up he found them too 
 strongly posted to be attacked in their position, and 
 so beguiled them into an ambush; when he fell on 
 them so unexpectedly, that he dispersed them with- 
 out losing a man. He then marched for the Upper 
 Santee, and on his route heard of the defeat of Gates, 
 at Camden. Concealing the news from his men, lest 
 they should be discouraged, he pushed on to intercept 
 a party, which his scouts informed him was coming 
 down the river with a large number of prisoners, 
 taken at Camden, in their charge. Marching rap- 
 idly forward, he got possession of a defile, through 
 which they were to pass, and at daylight attacked 
 them, both in front and rear, with such suddenness 
 that they gave but one volley, and fled. Twenty- 
 four British soldiers, and a hundred and fifty con- 
 tinentals of the Maryland line, were the fruits of this 
 victory. 
 
 Marion now found himself alone in the field — the 
 Southern army was annihilated, and he was left 
 single-handed to resist the overwhelming force of 
 the enemy. But his brave followers, instead of be- 
 ing discouraged, as he feared they would be, rose in 
 daring and determination as the danger thickened — 
 clinging faithfully to their leader. This bold band, 
 on their fleet horses, darted from point to point — 
 now breaking up a recruiting party— now dispersing 
 and disheartening the loyalists, and again cutting off 
 supplies of the British army, or falling on their out- 
 posts, and beating up their quarters, till at length 
 Cornwallis was irritated beyond all endurance. He 
 had cut up our army, and if left alone for only a 
 
BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 303 
 
 short time, could fill the country with such an array 
 of Tories, that the Whig militia would be overawed 
 and subdued. But this policy could not be carried 
 out, so long as this wily partisan was scouring the 
 country with his riders. The Tories themselves 
 were afraid to gather together; for they could 
 scarcely organize before the crack of his rifles sent 
 them frightened to their homes, and roused the 
 courage of the Whigs. 
 
 At length Cornwallis wrote to Tarleton, to get 
 hold of " Mr. Marion," at all hazards; and soon this 
 daring relentless officer was after him with his 
 dreaded legion. With only a hundred and fifty men 
 Marion was unable to compete with this force; but 
 still hoping for some favorable opportunity to strike, 
 he sent out Major James — the same who had 
 charged, all alone, so valiantly, a large band of 
 Tories, while he was chasing down Gainey — 'to re- 
 connoitre. With a few picked men he set forth on 
 his perilous mission, which he contrived, before he 
 got through with it, to make still more dangerous. 
 Concealing his little party in a thicket, at sunset, by 
 the road along which he knew the enemy to be 
 marching, he waited their approach. Soon after 
 dark he heard the tread of the advancing column; 
 and notwithstanding his dangerous proximity, de- 
 termined to stay and count the troops as they passed. 
 By the light of the moon, in whose rays the long line 
 of bayonets sparkled, he could distinguish every- 
 thing. With laughter and mirth the shining proces- 
 sion passed on ; but at sight of the Tories who fol- 
 lowed, the bold partisan's wrath was so kindled, that 
 
304 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 he resolved to leave his mark on them before he left. 
 In the rear of the cavalcade were several stragglers, 
 and these James selected as the objects of his fury. 
 At a given signal the spurs sunk into the flanks of 
 their steeds, and those fierce horsemen cleared the 
 thicket with a single bound, and emerged into the 
 moonlight. With their sabres gleaming about them, 
 and a terrible shout, they fell on the panic-stricken 
 wretches — the next moment, each with his prisoner 
 behind him, was sweeping in a tearing gallop along 
 the road, the echo of their horses' feet rapidly dying 
 away in the distance. Before daybreak he was with 
 Marion. The news of the enemy's force was even 
 worse than the latter had feared ; and the officers re- 
 tired to consult, while the men sat on their horses to 
 wait the issue. There was no alternative — they 
 must take refuge in flight; and the gallant band 
 obeyed though they received the announcement with 
 groans. The next evening, at sunset, with only 
 sixty men, he commenced his march for North 
 Carolina. The merciless invaders had it now their 
 own way, and swept through the country with fire 
 and sword. The ashes of houses and churches 
 burned to the ground, lands laid waste, and mur- 
 dered men, were the monuments they left along the 
 track of their desolating march : — but a score of 
 wrongs and cruelties was run up, yet to be wiped out 
 with their own blood. 
 
 The immediate effect of these barbarities was to 
 arouse the militia to resistance. Marion, who had 
 travelled night and day till he reached North Caro- 
 lina, soon learned from his scouts of the rallying of 
 
BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 305 
 
 the country, and joyfully hastened back to the scene 
 of danger. The rapidity of his march shows the 
 amazing celerity of his movements, and the wonder- 
 ful endurance possessed by his men. He travelled 
 night and day, and the second day marched sixty 
 miles. Being joined on his way by reinforcements, 
 he immediately planned a night attack on a large 
 party of Tories encamped on the Black Mingo. 
 Though they outnumbered him two to one, his men 
 were fierce for the fight, and he determined to gratify 
 them. The ferry across the river was commanded 
 so completely by the enemy, that it would be impos- 
 sible to force it, while the only other route to their 
 camp, was through a swamp and over a plank bridge 
 about a mile farther up. The latter, Marion re- 
 solved to take, and pressing on through the darkness, 
 he with his men reached the bridge about midnight, 
 and immediately began to cross it in close and firm 
 order, hoping to take the enemy by surprise. But 
 the clatter of the horses' feet on the loose planks was 
 heard by the sentinel, and an alarm-gun fired in the 
 distance. Concealment was now over, and spurring 
 to the head of his column, Marion ordered his men 
 to follow on a gallop ; and away they dashed, making 
 the bridge rattle and creak under their feet. When 
 he came within about three hundred yards of the 
 Tories, he ordered his militia-men to dismount and 
 fasten their horses. He then planned his attack; 
 and falling on them both in front and rear at the 
 same time, after a short but bloody conflict, laid 
 half of their number prostrate on the field, and drove 
 the remainder into the swamps ; but his own brigade 
 
 A. B., VOL. III. — 20 
 
306 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 also suffered severely. His loss was often greater, 
 from the fact, that he much of the time had no sur- 
 geon in his band, and hence the wounded would fre- 
 quently bleed to death. The alarm given also, while 
 he was yet a mile off, had allowed the enemy time 
 to rally, and choose their own field of battle. But 
 Marion learned a lesson by this, which he never 
 forgot; and ever after, when a bridge was to be 
 crossed he covered it with the blankets of his men, 
 so as to deaden the sound. 
 
 Those night marches and night battles added in- 
 conceivably to the mystery and romance of his char- 
 acter. They remind us of olden stories of outlaws 
 and robber bands, and present a series of pictures 
 worthy the pencil of Salvator Rosa. The marshall- 
 ing of those uncouth-looking, coarse-clad men, at 
 sunset — the winding of the silent column through 
 the gloomy swamp, where even the moonlight 
 seemed darkened — the array of stern-knit brows 
 which pressed close after that solemn, swarthy face, 
 when danger was near — the watch-fires of the un- 
 suspecting enemy in the distance — the sudden blast 
 of bugles — the clatter of galloping steeds, and the 
 shouts of fierce riders as they burst in one wild tor- 
 rent on the foe, combine to throw an air of mystery 
 and poetry around Marion that make us fascinated 
 with his character. Slightly made, reserved — al- 
 most solemn — given to no excess, very abstemious 
 in all his habits — kind and gentle even to his foes, 
 but stern as death when aroused — seeking no emolu- 
 ment, and receiving no reward, sustained alone by a 
 lofty patriotism, he is just the man around which to 
 
BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 307 
 
 weave romances, and gather all that is picturesque 
 and thrilling in human life. Thus a short time after 
 the affair at Black Mingo, he came again at mid- 
 night upon a party of Tories wrapped in sleep, and 
 rode over them ere they could rise from their repose. 
 
 He was soon after pressed closely by Tarleton, 
 with a superior force, and came near falling into 
 his hands, through the treachery of one of his re- 
 cruits — but escaping by a sudden flight, he led his 
 enraged adversary through swamps and morasses 
 twenty-five miles, till the latter gave over, saying, 
 " Come, my boys, let us go back. We will soon find 
 the game cock, (meaning Sumpter,) but as for this 
 
 d d szvamp fox, the devil himself could not catch 
 
 him." 
 
 Every adventure of this character added to the 
 influence and strength of Marion. 
 
 HIS CAMP AT snow's ISLAND 
 
 His camp at Snow's Island, whither he now re- 
 tired after an unsuccessful attempt on Georgetown, 
 was calculated to increase it still more. This island 
 is situated in the Pedee, where Lynch's Creek 
 empties into it, and at the time he selected it as a 
 place of retreat, was covered in the more elevated 
 parts with tall pine trees, and in the lower portions 
 with dense cane-brakes. All the boats in the region, 
 except those moored to his island castle, he ordered 
 to be destroyed, and here amid the wildness and 
 beauty of nature, this bold partisan pitched his camp, 
 and ruled like an ancient feudal lord. He strength- 
 
 A. B., VOL. III.— 20 
 
308 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 ened the natural defences around him, while the few 
 avenues that led to his retreat were guarded by trusty 
 rifles. A more picturesque scene cannot be imagined 
 than this camp presented on a bright warm day. 
 There, in the tall cool forest, those hardy warriors, 
 in their uncouth garments, lay stretched on the 
 ground, preparing their repast of potatoes, while the 
 smoke of the fires curling slowly up through the 
 tree-tops, struggled almost in vain to reach the open 
 space of heaven. On every side, half-hid by the 
 trunks and foliage, horses were browsing with their 
 saddles on and the bits dangling about their necks, 
 ready at a moment's warning to be mounted; and 
 from the branches of the trees swords hung idly sus- 
 pended. Here and there, through the trees, blue 
 wreaths of smoke were seen rising where the out- 
 posts were engaged at their frugal meal, while down 
 that dark and silent avenue, which led to the shore, 
 the rifles of sentinels gleamed amid the shrubbery. 
 
 But as one gazes into that camp, the object of 
 deepest interest there is a single sleeper. His slight 
 form is thrown upon the ground, and though the 
 piercing black eye is veiled, that calm swarthy face 
 reveals the partisan leader. He sleeps soundly, se- 
 curely, and well he may, amid that circle of iron- 
 hearted men; for at his slightest cry a hundred 
 swords would leap from their scabbards* and bold 
 must be the foeman who then and there would dare 
 press upon him. He sleeps well ; but a slight touch 
 has awakened him, and he rises to hear the message 
 brought by one of his scouts. A band of Tories is 
 near, lying waste the country. In a moment that 
 
BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 309 
 
 quiet camp is alive with the bustle of preparation ; 
 and lo ! that column of horsemen is winding its way 
 to the river. 
 
 Before morning their war-shout will be heard, and 
 the strokes of their sabres felt by the spoilers of the 
 land. 
 
 It was here he received the visit of the English 
 officer, and dined him on roasted potatoes. Marion's 
 fare was always simple in the extreme — vinegar and 
 water mixed composing his only drink. " His favor- 
 ite time for moving was with the setting sun, and 
 then it was known the marc^h would continue all 
 night. Before striking any sudden blow, he has been 
 known to march sixty or seventy miles, taking no 
 other food in twenty-four hours than a meal of cold 
 potatoes and a draught of cold water. His scouts 
 were out in all directions, and at all hours. They 
 were taught a peculiar and shrill whistle, which at 
 night could be heard at a most astonishing distance. 
 They did the double duty of patrols and spies. They 
 hovered about the posts of the enemy, crouching in 
 the thickets or darting along the plain, picking up 
 prisoners, and information, and spoils together. 
 Sometimes the single scout, buried in the thick top 
 of a tree, looked down upon the march of his legions, 
 or hung perched over the encampment till it slept, 
 then slipped down, stole through the silent host, 
 carrying off a drowsy sentinel or a favorite charger, 
 upon which the daring spy flourished conspicuous 
 among his less fortunate companions."* Among 
 this hardy band, none had greater powers of endur- 
 * Vide Simms, pages 162, 167, 171. 
 
3IO AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 ance than Marion. In summer and winter he had 
 but one -blanket to protect him from cold and storms, 
 and this, after a while, he lost. Lying one night 
 upon some straw, it took fire while he was asleep, 
 and the blanket nearly consumed — he himself nar- 
 rowly escaping a severe scorching. It mattered not 
 to him, however — with his hominy or potatoes, his 
 vinegar and water, he would ride sixty miles on a 
 stretch, and then fight a battle before resting. He 
 never informed his men of the length of his proposed 
 expeditions, and the only way they could ascertain 
 it, was to see how much hominy or corn meal his 
 servant put up. He frequently went into action 
 with only three rounds of ammunition to each man ; 
 and sometimes without any or even arms to a por- 
 tion of the company. In such cases the men would 
 coolly stand and watch the fight, till their compan- 
 ions shot down some of the enemy, when they would 
 rush up and take possession of their muskets and 
 cartridges. Saw-mill saws furnished broad-swords, 
 but there was a dreadful scarcity of bullets. If the 
 militia could obtain buckshot, they were satisfied; 
 but they were often compelled to fight with nothing 
 but szvan-shot, w'hich, though peppering a great 
 many, killed but few in proportion. 
 
 Such was Marion and such were his men and 
 equipments when he pitched his camp on Snow's 
 Island. But here reinforcements began to come in ; 
 and he soon found himself a brigadier in strength, 
 as well as in name. 
 
 About this time, however, he met with two heavy 
 losses, one of which wrung his heart, and the other 
 
BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 31 1 
 
 weakened his power. His nephew, Gabriel Marion, 
 whom he loved with the affection of a father, a 
 young officer of great bravery and promise, was 
 taken prisoner by the Tories, and cruelly massacred. 
 The blow fell heavy upon him, and many a deep and 
 terrible oath was sworn by his band, to avenge his 
 death. The supposed murderer was afterwards 
 taken, and slain, before Marion could interpose to 
 his rescue. The other calamity was the loss of 
 Sumpter's services. This gallant chief had met 
 Tarleton, and utterly routed him at Blackstock. 
 Pushing on with four hundred mounted men, the 
 British leader fell furiously on him, but was re- 
 pulsed, with the loss of nearly two hundred men. 
 Sumpter had only three killed, and three wounded 
 out of his whole command ; but among the latter was 
 himself. A bullet struck his breast, inflicting a ter- 
 rible wound. His devoted followers immediately 
 wrapped him in the raw hide of a bullock, and sling- 
 ing him between two horses, sent him, guarded by a 
 hundred resolute men, into North Carolina. It was 
 a long time before he could again take the field. 
 ♦ But if disasters thickened in one quarter, hope 
 brightened in another. In October of this year, 
 1780, occurred the — 
 
 BATTLE OF KING^S MOUNTAIN 
 
 Colonel Ferguson had been detached by Cornwal- 
 lis, to the frontiers of North Carolina, to encourage 
 and arm the loyalists, and intimidate the patriots. 
 He swept the country with fire and sword, and drove 
 
312 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 the defenceless mothers and children, with ribald 
 shouts, from their blazing homes. Women were rav- 
 ished, and every enormity human depravity could 
 suggest practiced. These outrages at length aroused 
 the mountaineers to the highest pitch of desperation. 
 Rallying in haste, they appointed their own officers, 
 and demanded immediately to be led against the 
 bloody monster. Mounted each on his horse, with 
 only a wallet and a blanket, they set forward. At 
 night they slept on the damp earth, and in the morn- 
 ing again pressed resolutely on. At every step they 
 came upon the marks of the ravages of the enemy, 
 which whetted into keener vengeance their already 
 excited passions. Ferguson, hearing of the storm 
 that was gathering around him, retired to a hill cov- 
 ered with trees, and shaped somewhat like a flattened 
 cone, and there planted his men, and awaited the on- 
 set. At length the enraged patriots found him, and 
 with cries of vengeance, swarmed in a crowd at the 
 base of the hill. Colonels Cleveland, Campbell, Sel- 
 by, Sevier, Williams, and others led them on. The 
 first, addressing his men, said : " My brave fellows, 
 we have beat the Tories, and can do it again. When 
 you are engaged, you are not to wait the word of 
 command from me : I will show you, by my example, 
 how to fight. I can undertake no more. Every man 
 must consider himself an officer, and act from his 
 own judgment. Fire as quick as you can, and stand 
 your ground as long as you can. When you can do 
 no better, get behind trees, and retreat ; but I beg of 
 you not to run quite off. If we are repulsed, let us 
 return to the fight ; perhaps we will have better luck 
 
BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 313 
 
 the second time. If any of you are afraid, such have 
 leave to retire, and I beg they will immediately take 
 themselves off." * They shouted to be led forward; 
 and driving the advanced guard of the British be- 
 fore them, streamed up the heights, and surrounding 
 the enemy, began to pour in their rapid fire. Fergu- 
 son ordered his men to charge bayonet ; and moving 
 intrepidly on the column of Cleveland, drove it back. 
 But while pressing up his advantage, Selby began to 
 ascend the farther side, compelling him to turn back 
 and defend himself, which he did like a tiger at bay, 
 and the Americans again recoiled. But Cleveland's 
 men, following the advice which had been given 
 them, rallied anew, and rushed, with loud shouts, to 
 the charge. Campbell also had now come up, and 
 the battle raged like a storm, there on the crest of the 
 hill. Ferguson found himself completely hemmed 
 in, yet continued to fight like a desperado. He knew 
 there was no hope for him, if once caught by those 
 outraged Americans, and he strained every nerve to 
 clear himself from the circle of fire that was every 
 moment contracting closer and closer. Charge after 
 charge of bayonet was made, but those determined 
 men recoiled only to spring with more desperate en- 
 ergy to the encounter. They called on Ferguson to 
 surrender, but he sternly refused; and rallying his 
 diminished troops around him, bravely fell, with his 
 sword waving over him. His troops then called for 
 quarter, and the battle ceased. The British lost in 
 all, eleven hundred killed, wounded, and prisoners; 
 together with their arms and munitions of war. The 
 * Vide Memoirs of Moultrie. 
 
314 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 excited patriots spared the English soldiers, but 
 many of the Tories were strung up to the trees, be- 
 fore order could be restored. 
 
 This was a severe blow to Cornwallis, and filled 
 the Tories with terror. 
 
 The prospect around Marion was relieved now and 
 then by such bright spots, and the cause of liberty 
 strengthened. At length when Greene took com- 
 mand of the Southern army, the sky began slowly to 
 brighten. He did not, like Gates, despise such men 
 as Marion, Sumpter, and others, but leaned heavily 
 upon them, and, as the sequel proved, not in vain. 
 He wrote immediately to Marion, encouraging and 
 strengthening him. 
 
 About this time occurred one of those incidents so 
 frequent during the Revolution, and which illustrate 
 the character of our people. Washington, with his 
 cavalry, came upon the British Colonel Rugely, 
 posted in a strong redoubt — and knowing that it 
 would be vain to attack him simply with horsemen, 
 ordered a pine log to be hewn into the shape of a 
 cannon and mounted on a pair of wagon-wheels. 
 With this he slowly and solemnly approached the re- 
 doubt, and summoned the English commander to 
 surrender. Seeing such a formidable piece of artil- 
 lery approach, the latter concluded it would be use- 
 less to attempt a defence, and yielded the post. Corn- 
 wallis, speaking of it in a letter to Tarleton, very 
 significantly remarks, "" Rugely will not he made a 
 brigadier." 
 
 Soon after Lee joined Marion, and the two to- 
 gether made an attack on Georgetown, which was 
 
BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 3 I 5 
 
 only partially successful. But when Greene com- 
 menced his famous retreat, Lee was called to his aid, 
 and Marion again left alone. He, however, did not 
 relax his efforts, but with his little band, and sus- 
 tained by such trusty men as Horry, Macdonald, 
 James, and others, kept the Tories and British de- 
 tachments in constant alarm. 
 
 A British officer. Major McElrath, was sent out to 
 destroy his band ; but Marion attacked him with such 
 vigor that he forced him to retreat. The latter being 
 without cavalry, was compelled finally to take a 
 strong position and offer battle. But the wily parti- 
 san knew too well where his strength lay to accept it, 
 and coolly encamped near him, waiting until heshould 
 move again. While the two forces were occupying 
 this position, the British officer sent Marion a chal- 
 lenge to single combat. The latter replied, that if he 
 wished to see a fight between twenty picked men, he 
 had no objection. The proposition was accepted, and 
 all the arrangements made for this strange en- 
 counter, which seemed to transport one back to 
 knightly days. Marion picked out his own men; 
 and, when everything was ready, addressed them in 
 his usually pithy style : " My brave soldiers," said 
 he, " you are twenty men picked out of my whole 
 brigade. I know you all, and have often witnessed 
 your bravery. In the name of your country I call 
 upon you to show it. My confidence in you is great : 
 I am sure it will not be disappointed. Fight like 
 men as you always have done, and you are sure of 
 the victory." This was a long speech for him, and 
 it was received with loud shouts by those resolute 
 
3l6 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 men. They had no bullets, and so rammed home 
 good heavy charges of buck-shot, and marched out 
 towards where the British stood drawn up in order. 
 Vanderhorst, who commanded this gallant little 
 band, turned to Witherspoon, the second officer, and 
 asked '' what distance he would prefer, as the most 
 sure, to strike with buck-shot?" " Fifty yards for 
 the first fire,'' he replied. '' Then," said Vander- 
 horst, turning to the men, '* when we get within fifty 
 yards, as I am not a good judge of distance, Mr. 
 Witherspoon will tap me on the shoulder ; I will then 
 give the word, my lads, and you will then form on 
 my left opposite to these fellows. As you form, each 
 man will fire at the one directly opposite, and my 
 word for it few will need a second shot." * They 
 advanced boldly, till within about a hundred yards 
 of the British, when the latter, at the order of their 
 officer, retreated. The Americans then halted, gave 
 three cheers, and marched laughing back to their 
 companions. 
 
 That night McElrath broke up his camp, and leav- 
 ing his heavy baggage behind, commenced a precipi- 
 tate retreat. In the morning, Marion followed him 
 — though he finally, out of respect to an enemy who 
 had shown a forbearance towards the people not 
 practiced by any other British officer, called ofif his 
 troop. 
 
 Colonel Watson was next despatched, with a 
 
 stronge force, to destroy our unconquerable partisan. 
 
 The latter boldly advanced to meet him, and coming 
 
 up with his guard at Wiboo Swamp, immediately 
 
 * Vide Simms' " Life of Marion." 
 
BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 317 
 
 commenced the attack. Horry, who commanded his 
 cavalry, was thrown back in disorder, which Marion 
 no sooner discovered, than he cried out '' charge/' 
 with such a vehement expression, that the whole 
 body threw itself forward with resistless impetuosity, 
 and swept the road. Watson's regulars, however, 
 restored the fight, and finally forced Marion to re- 
 treat. The Tory horse following up the advantage, 
 were pressing with dangerous energy upon him as 
 he was crossing a narrow causeway, when Gavin 
 James, a man of huge proportions and boiling cour- 
 age, and mounted on a powerful gray horse, wheeled 
 right in front of the whole advancing column. He 
 was armed with a musket, and as he turned, took 
 deliberate aim, and shot the first man dead. A whole 
 volley blazed in his face, sending the bullets in a 
 shower around his head, not one of which however 
 struck him. A dragoon rushing forward, he trans- 
 fixed him with the bayonet — a second coming to the 
 rescue, fell beside his companion. Awestruck at this 
 bold horseman, as he thus sat on his steed in the road 
 and hurled death around him, the whole column 
 halted. In a moment Marion's cavalry was upon it, 
 breaking it in pieces, and sending the fugitives in 
 affright back to their infantry. 
 
 He then slowly retired, fighting as he went, till at 
 length he threw himself across the Pedee, and de- 
 stroying the bridge, awaited his enemy. As Watson 
 approached the bank, the deadly riflemen picked off 
 his men with fearful rapidity ; and when he ordered 
 the cannon to be advanced, so as to clear the low 
 grounds on the farther side, the artillerists fell dead 
 
3l8 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 beside their guns. Finding this would not do, he 
 attempted to force the ford, and a detachment was 
 sent forward. The officer commanding it advanced 
 gallantly; but as he approached the water, waving 
 his sword and cheering on his troops, the crack of a 
 single rifle was heard, and he fell dead in his foot- 
 steps. A whole volley followed, which sent the 
 thinned ranks in affright to their cover. Four brave 
 fellows undertook to bear off their dead commander, 
 but they all fell beside the corpse. Watson was ter- 
 rified, declaring he had never seen such shooting in 
 his life, — and, afraid to force the passage of the 
 river, resorted to skirmishing across it. 
 
 The next day he sent a flag to Marion, complain- 
 ing bitterly of his barbarous practice of shooting 
 down his pickets, affirming it was fit only for " rob- 
 bers," and challenging him to come out and fight 
 like a man and a Christian. Marion did not even 
 deign a reply to this message, and coolly told his 
 men to keep shooting both sentinels and pickets. But 
 the flag did not go back unanswered — a Sergeant 
 McDonald, a bold Scotchman, who had lost all his 
 clothes in one of the late skirmishes, sent word to 
 Watson, that he was very much in want of them, and 
 if he did not give them up, he would kill eight of his 
 men -as pay. The English officer was thrown into a 
 transport of rage at this insolent message; but his 
 fellow-officers, who knew McDonald well, told him 
 that the bold dragoon would certainly fulfil his 
 threat. Watson, who had been filled with terror at 
 the sharp-shooting of our men, and thinking, per- 
 haps, that he might be the first victim of McDon- 
 
BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 319 
 
 aid's vengeance, actually sent back his clothes. But 
 the most amusing part of the whole affair, was 
 the gratitude and politeness of McDonald. He im- 
 mediately returned word to Watson, that he would 
 not now fulfil his threat, and instead of killing eight 
 of his men, w^ould kill hut four. Whether the former 
 was particularly thankful for this reduction of fifty 
 per cent, or not, is not recorded, but it was certainly 
 the coolest piece of impudence one could well per- 
 form. To make it still worse, this fearless dragoon, 
 two days after, shot an English lieutenant through 
 the knee, at the distance of three hundred yards. 
 
 At length Watson, finding he could not force the 
 river, and seeing also that he had far the worst of it 
 in skirmishing, broke up his camp and retired pre- 
 cipitately towards Georgetown; but Marion's men 
 seemed everywhere present, and the crack of their 
 rifies rung from every thicket. Surrounded, and 
 kept in constant trepidation, the English colonel hur- 
 ried on till he reached Ox Swamp. Here he made a 
 halt, for only one narrow causeway crossed the 
 morass, and on that stood Marion's men, protected 
 by trees, which they had felled across the road. Re- 
 coiling from the encounter, Watson wheeled into the 
 open pine-w^oods, and struck across the country for 
 the Santee road, fifteen miles distant. He had not 
 gone far, however, before Marion was upon him, 
 and when the latter came up, he found the British 
 infantry on the full trot in their precipitate flight. 
 Falling on their flank and rear, he mowed them 
 down, and but for the failure of a single officer, 
 whom Horry had placed over an ambush party, the 
 
320 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 whole corps would have been captured. It made out 
 to reach Georgetown, though thinned and wasted 
 severely by Marion's rifles and heavy sabres. 
 
 At the same time that Watson set out with his ex- 
 pedition, a Colonel Doyle, with another regiment, 
 marched on Snow's Island, and wasted that romantic 
 encampment of the partisan leader, capturing all his 
 baggage and stores. This was a heavy blow; and 
 Marion, for the first time, gave way to despondency. 
 Greene was fleeing northward, before the victorious 
 Cornwallis, and South Carolina lay open to the 
 ravages of the Tories and British, who now were 
 able to concentrate all their forces on him and his 
 brigade. This hardy and patriotic chief was not 
 fighting for victory, but simply to do what he could 
 towards keeping alive the spirit of the Whigs; and 
 it is a matter of astonishment, that he was able to 
 retain his irregular troops about him, under such dis- 
 heartening circumstances. The storm began to 
 gather darker, and more threateningly over his head, 
 and his stern soul at last sunk under the accumulated 
 dangers that momentarily increased. In this crisis 
 of his affairs, he did not know which way to turn; 
 and one day as he was walking alone, absorbed in 
 thought, and weighed down with discouragement, 
 Horry approached him, and said : " General, our 
 men are few; and if what I hear be true, you never 
 wanted them more." Marion started, as if from a 
 dream, and fixing on Horry an anxious look, ex- 
 claimed : ** Go immediately to the field-oflicers, and 
 learn from them, if, in the event of my being driven 
 to the mountains, they will follow my fortunes, and 
 
BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 32 I 
 
 with me carry on the war until the enemy is driven 
 out of the country. Go and bring me their answer 
 zvithout delay/' Away went Horry, while the 
 anxious chief returned to his solitary walk, and his 
 gloomy meditations. The former had not been gone 
 long before he returned with the joyful intelligence, 
 that they, one and all, would stand by him till death. 
 At the news Marion's black eye flashed with delight, 
 and rising on his toes, he exclaimed : " I am satis- 
 fied — one of these parties shall soon feel us/' Noble 
 man — he wanted only to know that his brave troops 
 would bear all that he would bear, to be himself 
 again. 
 
 Immediately after this, he turned on Doyle, who 
 had just laid waste his beautiful encampment on 
 Snow's Island; but in crossing Lynch's Creek and 
 swamp, which were overflowing with water, from 
 a recent freshet, his men, many of them lost their 
 muskets, and with difficulty floundered through in 
 the darkness. Nothing daunted, however, he pressed 
 on, and soon came upon traces of the flying enemy. 
 Destroying all his heavy baggage, and strewing the 
 road with the wreck, Doyle fled towards Camden, 
 impelled by the fear of Marion, and anxiety for the 
 fate of Rawdon, on whom Greene, fresh from the 
 battle of Guilford, was now rapidly marching. Find- 
 ing him beyond his reach, Marion wheeled about, 
 and set out in search of his old enemy, Watson, who 
 was again in the field, and hanging darkly on his 
 flanks. The latter immediately fled rapidly towards 
 Camden, and Marion, with Lee, who had just joined 
 him, left the pursuit, and marched against Fort Wat- 
 
 A. B., VOL. m. — 21 
 
322 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 son, and invested it. But neither besiegers nor be- 
 sieged had a single cannon, while the strong fortifi- 
 cations rendered a storm extremely hazardous. In 
 this dilemma Marion's genius, which had helped him 
 out of worse difficulties, came to his aid. He ordered 
 trees to be cut down, and the logs carried on men's 
 shoulders, close to the fort. After dark, these were 
 piled crosswise, one upon another, thus forming a 
 huge cobhouse, high enough to overlook the garrison, 
 into which the riflemen crawled, and waited for day- 
 light to appear. Hardly had the gray dawn streaked 
 the east, before the British were aroused by a shower 
 of rifle-bullets in their midst. Finding their works 
 thus unexpectedly commanded — and assailed in the 
 meantime, by a storming party, the garrison sur- 
 rendered. 
 
 Greene's bold and sudden movement on Corn- 
 wallis's line of Southern posts, had encouraged the 
 Whigs, and the hardy mountaineers now came pour- 
 ing in to Marion, and he soon found a respectable 
 brigade again under his command. Lee and Eaton 
 having joined him, he invested, by Greene's direc- 
 tion. Fort Motte, the principal depot of provision for 
 the British army, between Camden and Charleston. 
 A fine large house, belonging to Mrs. Motte, situated 
 on a high hill, had been turned into a fort, and sur- 
 rounded with a deep trench, and high parapets. The 
 lady herself had been driven forth, and at this time 
 occupied an old farm-house near by, where Marion 
 also took up his headquarters. The Americans had 
 only one six-pounder, with which to batter down 
 these fortifications ; but having completed the invest- 
 
BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 323 
 
 ment, and planted their single gun, the garrison was 
 summoned to surrender. A refusal being returned, 
 the siege went gradually on. But before the place 
 could be reduced, news arrived of the rapid approach 
 of Rawdon, to the rescue. He had destroyed his 
 baggage— set Camden on fire, and was now advanc- 
 ing by forced marches; while Greene, anxious for 
 Marion, was also straining every nerve to reach him 
 first. He wrote to him to press the siege with the 
 utmost despatch; but Rawdon's fires were already 
 blazing on the farther side of the river, and another 
 day would place him in the fort. The garrison were 
 overjoyed at the prospect of their deliverance; but 
 Marion was filled with the deepest perplexity, re- 
 specting the next measure to be adopted. There 
 seemed no alternative but to set fire to the fine man- 
 sion of Mrs. Motte, within the fort— if this could be 
 done, the place must surrender. Marion felt great re- 
 luctance in proposing it to the lady, who had treated 
 him and his oi^cers with so much kindness and gen- 
 erosity, during the eight days they had consumed in 
 the siege; yet there was no other course left open to 
 him, and he at length hesitatingly told her so. But 
 Mrs. Motte was one of those noble South Carolina 
 matrons, whose virtues shed lustre on themselves, 
 and glory on our cause, and not only consented, but 
 seemed delighted with the prospect of rendering her 
 country a service. Hastening to a private apartment, 
 she brought forth a bow and some arrows, which 
 had been sent from India, as objects of curiosity. To 
 those arrows combustible materials were attached 
 and set on fire, and thus launched against the roof, 
 
324 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 which rose above the parapets of the fort. A strong 
 mihtia-man shot the missiles, which hghting on the 
 dry shingles, soon kindled them into a blaze. The 
 English commander immediately ordered a company 
 of soldiers on the roof, to extinguish the fire; but 
 Marion had trained his six-pounder upon it with 
 such precision, that they were forced to retire, and 
 the house was soon wrapped in flames. This made 
 the quarters too hot for the garrison, and 
 they surrendered. 
 
 That same night Greene entered the camp of Ma- 
 rion, and shook the hand of the worthy partisan with 
 delight. There had been a slight quarrel between 
 them, which well-nigh completely estranged the lat- 
 ter. The former had sent to him for some horses to 
 replenish his cavalry, which he refused to furnish. 
 Greene hearing that his refusal grew out of unwil- 
 lingness to dismount his militia, wrote him a re- 
 proachful letter, which wounded his feelings so deep- 
 ly, that he resolved to resign his commission. The 
 noble-hearted Greene, both grieved and alarmed at 
 the serious light in which Marion viewed his com- 
 plaint, wrote him immediately a long explanation 
 which healed the breach before it became widened, 
 and thus secured an ally who had ever been faithful, 
 and whose aid at this critical moment was of vital 
 importance. 
 
 After the fall of Fort Motte, Lee again left Ma- 
 rion, and the latter, with Sumpter, was appointed to 
 hold Rawdon in check, while Greene could advance 
 on Ninety-Six. They succeeded in driving him be- 
 hind his intrenchments in and near Georgetown, and 
 
BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 325 
 
 then began that daring game so common with our 
 partisan troops. Marion at length took Georgetown, 
 but not being able to garrison it, removed all the 
 stores, provisions, &c., and abandoned it. 
 
 In the meantime, Rawdon, having received large 
 reinforcements, became too strong for Marion, and 
 started off to relieve Ninety-Six, as mentioned in the 
 sketch of Greene. 
 
 After the return of the former to Orangeburg, Ma- 
 rion was despatched with Sumpter and Lee, and 
 others, to the South, and succeeded in driving the 
 enemy within the gates of Charleston. 
 
 AFFAIR AT QUIMBY'S BRIDGE 
 
 Sumpter and Marion then advanced to Monk's 
 Corner, where Colonel Coates was posted with six 
 hundred and fifty men. Watboo and Quimby Creeks 
 lay between him and Charleston, and the destruction 
 of the bridges over them would effectually cut off his 
 retreat to the latter place. Failing to destroy that of 
 Watboo in time, Sumpter, Lee, and Marion pressed 
 on after the retreating column, hoping to overtake 
 it before it reached Quimby Creek. On going a 
 little distance, they discovered that the cavalry and 
 infantry had separated, and taken different routes. 
 Hampton, therefore, pressed on after the former, 
 while Lee's and Marion's cavalry gave chase to the 
 latter, and came up with the rear-guard about a mile 
 from Quimby Creek. " Front rank, bayonets ! sec- 
 ond rank, fire! " fell in startling distinctness on the 
 squadron, but the next moment the fierce horsemen 
 
326 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 were riding through the broken lines, and without a 
 musket being discharged, the whole rear-guard sur- 
 rendered. 
 
 But Coates, with the main body, was already over 
 the bridge, and drawn up on the farther side, waiting 
 for the baggage to pass before he threw the planks 
 into the water. They had all been loosened, and 
 needed but a slight touch to cast them off, while 
 a howitzer, at the opposite extremity, commanded the 
 passage. 
 
 This was the position of things, when the Ameri- 
 can cavalry was seen sweeping along the narrow 
 causeway leading to the creek. The rear-guard hav- 
 ing surrendered, without firing a shot, Coates was 
 ignorant of the disaster that had befallen him, and 
 hence was not fully prepared for this sudden onset. 
 He, however, ordered the men to throw off the 
 planks, and his troops to form in order of battle. 
 Captain Armstrong, who led the first section of the 
 pursuing cavalry, halted, as he saw the preparations 
 made to receive him, and sent back word to Lee to 
 know what should be done. In the hurry of the 
 moment he forgot to state the new position of things, 
 and hence received in reply the order, " to fall on the 
 enemy at all hazards/' A terrible expression gath- 
 ered on Armstrong's brow when he heard it, and he 
 leaned fiercely over his saddle-bow for a second — 
 the next instant his powerful horse sprung, with a 
 terrible snort, into the air, as the spurs sunk deep in 
 his sides, and " Legion cavalry, charge ! '"' rang back 
 in a voice of thunder, and away went those bold 
 riders like a rattling storm. The bridge creaked and 
 
BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 327 
 
 shook under their headlong gallop, and the loose 
 planks flew like shingles beneath the feet of the 
 horses, leaving huge gaps as they passed. Up to the 
 howitzer, and over it, they swept with one wild shout, 
 and had the rest of the cavalry followed, the victory 
 would have been complete. Carrington, with the 
 second section, boldly leaped the chasm after Arm- 
 strong, but the third faltered, and stood shivering, 
 when the first section of Marion's cavalry came up, 
 and bursting through the reluctant company without 
 stopping to think, cleared the bridge. 
 
 In the meanwhile Lee, with the rest of the legion, 
 arrived ; but Armstrong's cavalry had thrown off so 
 many planks in their fierce passage, that he was com- 
 pelled to stop and replace them. This settled the fate 
 of the day, for Armstrong, finding himself unsup- 
 ported, and with only three sections of cavalry op- 
 posed to the whole British army, dashed through the 
 discomfited soldiers, and wheeling into the woods, 
 went off on a tearing gallop. 
 
 Coates immediately retreated to Shubrick's planta- 
 tion, and made a stand. Sumpter, Lee, and Marion, 
 though outnumbered two to one, followed on, and 
 came upon him, with his troops drawn up in square, 
 in front of the house. This was four o'clock, and 
 the battle immediately commenced, and lasted till 
 dark. Marion's men showed their training in this 
 engagement, and fought with the coolness and steadi- 
 ness of veteran troops. Fifty were killed or wounded 
 in the action — every one of them belonging to Ma- 
 rion's brigade. 
 
 Sumpter finally withdrew; — not because he was 
 
328 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 beaten, but from want of ammunition. He had not 
 managed well, or the whole British force of six hun- 
 dred would have been captured, and the bloody battle 
 of Eutaw in all probability prevented. He and Ma- 
 rion separated after this — the latter operating on the 
 Santee. While here, he heard that Colonel Harden, 
 at the Pon-Pon, was sorely pressed by a British force 
 of five hundred men ; and taking with him two hun- 
 dred picked soldiers, started off to relieve him. With 
 his accustomed secrecy he stole across the country, 
 and passing through the lines of the enemy's com- 
 munication twice, at length — after marching a hun- 
 dred miles — came up with the British near Parker's 
 ferry. Placing his men in ambush in a swamp, he 
 sent forward fifty of his swiftest horse to decoy 
 them to his place of concealment. Major Frazier, 
 who was wholly ignorant of Marion's approach, took 
 the company for a part of Harden' s force, whom he 
 was after, and ordered his cavalry to charge. On a 
 full gallop, and with loud shouts, they came thunder- 
 ing over the causeway after the flying horsemen, till 
 they approached within fifty yards of Marion's rifle- 
 men, when a deadly volley received them. Wheel- 
 ing, they attempted to charge the swamp, but a sec- 
 ond volley made them recoil. They had now got 
 fairly into the lane made by those marksmen, and 
 there was no retreating. They therefore pushed on 
 through it towards the ferry, taking the fire as they 
 passed. The infantry followed, and there seemed 
 not a chance of escape to the British army; but at this 
 moment Marion's ammunition gave out, and he was 
 compelled to order a retreat. A little more powder, 
 
BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 329 
 
 and a few more buck-shot, and the whole would have 
 been captured. He had effected his object, however 
 — relieved Harden, and thinned terribly the British 
 cavalry. He then turned back, and by rapid marches 
 succeeded in reaching Greene just before the battle 
 of Eutaw — thus, in six days' timCj fighting one hat- 
 tie , and marching two hundred and fifty miles. At 
 Eutaw he commanded the right of the South Caro- 
 lina militia, and led them nobly into action. He 
 fought like a lion on that bloody day ; and when the 
 British army retreated, followed swiftly on their 
 flying traces, dealing the rear-guard heavy blows in 
 the chase. 
 
 When Greene retired to the high hills of Santee, 
 Marion repaired to Santee river swamp, where, after 
 having cleared an open space in the cane-brakes, he 
 erected huts for his men. Here he was taken sick, 
 but it did not keep him idle. He was constantly on 
 the alert, and from his sequestered spot in the 
 swamp, learned everything that was going on about 
 him. Those rude huts, thatched with cane, looked 
 lonely and wretched enough in the evening sunlight ; 
 but at the blast of a single bugle, they would pour 
 forth as hardy and determined warriors as ever 
 raged through a battle. 
 
 With the commencement of winter his brigade be- 
 gan to increase, and he again took the field. But 
 after some little success, the mountaineers returned 
 to their homes, leaving him weak as before. He, 
 however, co-operated with Greene, till that able gen- 
 eral drove the enemy into Charleston. 
 
 The field soon after being left clear, he made over 
 
330 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 his brigade to Horry, and hastened to Jacksonbor- 
 ough to take his seat in the Assembly, of which he 
 had been elected a member from St. John's, Berkley. 
 This was in 1782; but while doing his duty as a 
 legislator, his brigade came very near being wholly 
 destroyed. The British, taking advantage of his ab- 
 sence, had sent out a detachment against it, which he 
 no sooner heard of, than he hastened back and ar- 
 rived in time to save it, though beaten in the en- 
 counter. He continued to overawe the Tories, till 
 called by Greene to head-quarters near Charleston. 
 With his departure, the disaffected again took up 
 arms; but scarcely had they organized, before Ma- 
 rion, who had heard of their movements, suddenly 
 appeared in their midst, and awed them into submis- 
 sion. Thus marching hither and thither — appearing 
 and disappearing, like some wizard who has the 
 power of self -transportation through the air, he kept 
 the country quiet. But with the exception of a con- 
 flict with Major Frazier's cavalry, which he routed, 
 he was engaged in no more battles. The British 
 evacuated Charleston, and the country was free. 
 
 Marion then called his trusty followers together, 
 and, amid the cedars of his encampment at Watboo, 
 gave them his affectionate farewell, and returned to 
 his ravaged farm. He looked mournfully over his 
 desolate fields, and then hung up his good blade, and 
 took the implements of agriculture. 
 
 He was, however, soon elected to the Senate of the 
 State, and there showed the same patriotism and de- 
 cision he had done in defending his country with his 
 sword. On one occasion, a Tory presented a petition 
 
BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 33 1 
 
 to be exempted from the confiscation act, which had 
 been passed during the war, and at that time received 
 the sanction of Marion. But peace had now re- 
 turned, and with it passed all feelings of vengeance 
 in his noble heart, and he rose to speak on the peti- 
 tion. The poor Tory turned pale when he saw the 
 old partisan leader about to speak, and gave up his 
 case as hopeless ; but, to his surprise, he heard him 
 advocate it. " Then," said Marion, referring to the 
 time the act was passed, '' it was war. It is peace 
 now. God has given us the victory ; let us show our 
 gratitude to Heaven, which we shall not do by 
 cruelty to man." It was a noble sentiment, and 
 worthy the patriot who uttered it. At another time a 
 bill was introduced to exempt the revolutionary offi- 
 cers from all legal prosecutions for their conduct dur- 
 ing the war. Circumstances, and the common good 
 of the State, had compelled them to stretch their 
 power in a way that the civil law would not sanction, 
 and this bill was designed to secure them against 
 annoyance. But no sooner was it read, than Marion 
 rose to his feet, and with his solemn black eye flash- 
 ing fire, demanded to have his name taken off from 
 the list of exempted officers. He said he was friend- 
 ly to the bill, but he would not be sheltered by it. 
 His honor he valued more than his life, and this tacit 
 implication that it might not be spotless, he scorned 
 at once. Said he, " If I have given any occasion for 
 complaint, I am ready to answer in property and 
 person. If I have wronged any man, I am willing 
 to make him restitution. If in a single instance in 
 the course of my command, I have done that which 
 
332 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 I cannot fully justify, justice requires that I should 
 suffer for it/' His name was excluded, and he stood 
 proudly on his unsullied honor, and challenged the 
 strictest scrutiny into his conduct during years of 
 civil war. 
 
 Marion received no appropriation from the State 
 for his services, though he was appointed commander 
 of Fort Johnson, at Charleston, with a salary of 
 about $2,500 per annum. This was a sinecure, and 
 the post made on purpose for him ; but a lucky turn 
 in his fortune saved him from the necessity of ac- 
 cepting it. Miss Mary Videau, a lady of wealth, had 
 fallen in love with our hero, though fifty years of 
 age. The latter was slow to discover it, but when he 
 did, proposed and was accepted. 
 
 Retiring to his plantation, he lived happily with his 
 bride, though she, too, was getting into the '' sere 
 and yellow leaf." In the hot summer months, he 
 would take his old camp-bed and cooking utensils, 
 and repair with her to the mountains. Thus he lived, 
 honored by his country, and loved by all; and at 
 length, at the age of sixty-three, surrendered his soul, 
 without fear, into the hands of his Maker. He de- 
 clared himself a Christian — a firm believer in all the 
 great truths of religion. 
 
 Thus passed away this strange and noble man ; but 
 his memory lives, and the name of " Marion " will 
 ever thrill the hearts of our youth, and nerve the 
 patriot, in every age, to strike for freedom. 
 
BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 333 
 
 HIS CHARACTER 
 
 In personal appearance, Marion presented a strik- 
 ing contrast to most of the officers in our army. It is 
 a curious fact, that the generals of the highest grade, 
 in both armies, during the Revolutionary war, aver- 
 aged nearly two hundred pounds in weight. But 
 Marion was a very small man, and of diminutive 
 proportions every way. He was not only short, but 
 remarkably thin. His countenance was swarthy, and 
 grave in its expression, and his eye dark, solemn, and 
 poetic. Extremely plain in his dress, and with still 
 plainer manners, he did not strike a stranger very 
 favorably. Reserved and silent, he seldom spoke, 
 except when necessary, and then expressed his 
 thoughts in the most direct and simple language he 
 could command. These peculiarities increased the 
 mystery which his actions threw around him, and 
 doubtless added much to the influence he held over 
 his band. Cool and quiet, he went on the most des- 
 perate missions without excitement — as calmly 
 stormed through the fight, and then, in the same 
 composed manner, drew off his men to their dark and 
 lonely encampment. He seemed utterly destitute of 
 passions. He possessed neither revenge, nor thirst 
 for glory, nor love of excitement, nor desire of 
 money or power. He showed no fondness for the 
 table, but was abstemious as a hermit. Even the 
 women had no influence over him ; and he moved 
 amid the turbulent scenes around him, like one whose 
 mind is wholly absorbed on one great object, yet to 
 be accomplished. Drinking his vinegar and water — 
 
334 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY 
 
 enough to keep any man thin — eating his coarse 
 hominy, or rice — with the trees for his shelter, and 
 the swamps for his retreat, he fastens himself upon 
 our affections and interest, with a firmness nothing 
 can shake. 
 
 Living in lawless times, and among rough and 
 boisterous men, he retained all his delicacy of feel- 
 ing, refined tastes, and scrupulous virtue. Moving 
 in an orbit of his own, he, like Washington, was be- 
 yond the influence of others, and seemed free from 
 the common frailties of men. 
 
 Without pay — without even the hope of victory — 
 hunted from swamp to swamp, and chased the length 
 and breadth of his State, he still struggled on to 
 keep alive the waning flame of patriotism in the 
 hearts of the inhabitants. Binding his men to him 
 by love, rather than by commands, he would let them 
 disband to their homes, with no security but their 
 single promise to return. Ytt that promise was 
 never broken; and the love those stern hearts bore 
 him, is one of the most touching incidents in his 
 career. 
 
 As a partisan leader Marion has no equal. One 
 cannot point out a defect in him, nor suggest a single 
 good quality which he did not possess. To sleepless, 
 tireless vigilance, he added an energy and perse- 
 verance that nothing could shake; and to bravery, 
 which never deserted him, a prudence unmarred by 
 a single rash act. Provoked into no haste, beguiled 
 into no procrastination, undated by success, undis- 
 couraged by defeat, he baflled every plan of his pur- 
 suers to take him, and kept the field in the very midst 
 
BRIGADIER-GENERAL MARION 335 
 
 of his foes. For a long time, the only patriot who 
 dared to lift the standard of freedom in his native 
 State, he became the object against which the British 
 directed all their efforts. Yet they never disbanded 
 his corps, or broke his power. The name of Marion 
 became a spell- word with which to conjure up the 
 Republicans, and frighten the Tories. Seeking the 
 recesses of the swamps by day, and stealing on his 
 foes, like the panther, by night, his swift horsemen 
 came and went like the invisible stroke of fate. No 
 precaution could escape his penetrating glance, and 
 no concealment furnish security against his deadly 
 rifles. He seemed omnipresent to the enraged, ter- 
 ror-stricken loyalists; and when they deemed them- 
 selves safest, he was often nearest. And yet, not a 
 vice sullied ** his ermine character." No ferocity 
 was mingled with his courage, and no cruelty accom- 
 panied his fierce onsets. Neither the barbarity of 
 his enemies, nor the treason of his friends could pro- 
 voke him to injustice — even the clamors of his own 
 followers were unable to swerve his just soul from 
 the path of integrity. Given to no excess, he asked 
 no share of the plunder, and never used the power 
 he possessed to gratify a single selfish passion. 
 
 His patriotism was pure and lofty as his character ; 
 and for his sufferings and losses he neither asked nor 
 expected remuneration. His country he loved better 
 than his life, and liberty was dearer to him than all 
 things else on earth besides. Wealth, rank, ease, 
 safety, all sunk before his country's claims, and he 
 seemed to aim at nothing but its interests. His like 
 is seldom seen. 
 
336 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY ''^■' ' 
 
 His followers were worthy of him. Bold, fearless 
 — true as steel in the hour of danger, they closed 
 round him with a faith and devotion that excite our 
 admiration, and claim our love. 
 
 t>~^^ 
 
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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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