YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY Gift of
REV. E. CLOWES CHORLEY

YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

Gift of

REV. E. CLOWES CHORLEY

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THE LIFE

OP

NATHANAEL GKEENE,

MAJOR-GENERAL IN THE ARMY OF THE REVOLUTION.

EDITED 1!
W. GILMORE SIMMS, Esq.,
AUTHOR OF "LIFE OF MARION," "CAPT. JOHN SMITH," ETC.

NEW YORK:
DERBY & JACKSON, 119 NASSAU STREET.
CINCINNATI : — H. W. DERBY.
1856.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1849,
Bit GEORGE F. COOLEDGE & BROTHER,
In th*> Clerk's Oflice of the District Court of the United States, in and for the
Southern District of New York.

STEREOTYPED BY C. C. SAVAGE,
13 Chambers Street, N. Y.

ADVERTISEMENT.

In examining and revising for the publishers the man
uscript of the present work, the editor has consulted
nearly all the volumes which promised to have any bear
ing upon the subject. He has had before him the copi
ous biographical sketches of Johnson, and the several
volumes of Lee, Ramsay, Moultrie, Marshall, Tarleton,
Graydon, and others, not forgetting the very graceful
memoir of Greene, from the pen of his grandson,
recently published in the collection of Sparks. In ref
erence to the latter writer, he begs leave to express the
hope that he will persevere in the intention of giving to
the public a more elaborate performance on the same
subject. There is much that is obscure in the history,
much that is provocative of discussion, and needing to
be discussed, which the narrow limits of a duodecimo
must necessarily exclude. Who better prepared than
himself to do justice to the great pablic services and
private worth of his grandsire 1

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.
Introductory. — Family of Greeno. — His Early Education. — Occupation.
— Studies. — Intimacies. — Resolution and Strength of Character - PAGE P
CHAPTER II.
Youthful Habits. — Parental Discipline. — Progress from Books to Poli
tics. — Military Studies and Marriage ....--• 20
CHAPTER III.
Battle of Lexington. — Rhode Island Army of Observation. — Greene
its General. — Is made a Brigadier in the Continental Service. — Com
mands on Long Island. — Raised to the Rank of Major-General. — Fort
Lee. — Fort Washington. — Retreat through New Jersey. — Battles of
Trenton and Princeton  ' - - -30
CHAPTER IV.
The Army in Winter Quarters. — Greene sent on a Mission to Con
gress. — Explores the Highlands. — Manoeuvres of tbe British. —
Greene in Command of a Division. — Conspicuous in the Battle of
Brandywine — and in that of Germantown. — Sent against Cornwallis.
— Retires with the Army upon Valley Forge ----- 45
CHAPTER V.
Greene becomes Quartermaster-General. — The British evacuate Phila
delphia. — Pursued by Washington. — The Battle of Monmouth. —
The Conduct of Greene in that Battle. — Joins Sullivan in an Attempt
on Newport — Engiges the British. — Retires before them on the
Approach of Clinton ....  64
CHAPTER VI.
Greene defends Sullivan for the Affair in Rhode Island. — Difficulties
with Congress in regard to the Duties of Quartermaster-General.
— Anecdote of his Brother.— -Resigns from his Office, and offends
Congress. — Debates in that Body. — Greene commands at the Battle
of Springfield -  79

6 CONTENTS.
CHAPTER VII.
Demonstrations on New York. — Treason of Arnold. — Greene appointed
to the Post at West Point. — Gates's Defeat. — Greene succeeds him
in Command of the Southern Army. — Proceeds to the South. — Joins
the Army at Charlotte, N. C— Treatment of Gates - - 97
CHAPTER VIII.
Glimpse of the past Progress of the War in the South. — Condition of
the Country and of the Army when Greene takes Command. — His
Difficulties — Resources — Policy. — Moves from Charlotte to Pee Dee.
— Marion's Movements. — Cornwallis. — Morgan. — Tarleton pursues
Morgan. — la defeated at the Cowpens ... . no
CHAPTER IX.
Morgan's Retreat before Cornwallis. — Greene joins him on the Cataw
ba. — Condition of the American Army. — Militia collects nnder Da
vidson. — British pass the Catawba. — Death of Davidson. — Morgan
Retreats. — Passes the Yadkin. — Skirmish with the Rearguard. — An
ecdote of Greene -  139
CHAPTER X.
Continued Pursuit of the Americans by Cornwallis. — Greene medi
tates a. Stand at Guilford. — Condition of his Army. — Continues the
Retreat through North Carolina. — Deludes Cornwallis, who pursues
& Detachment under Williams, while the main Army of the Ameri
cans crosses the River Dan in security - - - -144
CHAPTER XI.
The Armies watch each other. — The Militia collect under Pickens
and Caswell. — Cornwallis retires upon Hillsborough. — Greene re-
crosses the Dan. — Pickens and Lee operate successfully upon the
British Detachments.— Sanguinary Defeat of Loyalists under Pyles,
and Pursuit of Tarleton - ... im
CHAPTER XII.
Strategies of the two Armies. — Cornwallis surrounded by the Partisans
— Their Activity and Audacity, — He attempts to elude them, and cut
Greene off from his Detachments. — He pursues Williams, who es
capes him. — Cornwallis retires, aud 'Greene prepares for Action .• 173
CHAPTER XIII.
The Battle of Guilford. — Its Vicissitudes. — Duel between Colonel Stu
art and Captain Smith. — Slaughter among tne Guards. — Retreat
of the Americans .... ... 183

CONTENTS. 7
CHAPTER XIV.
Cornwallis Retreats— Is pursued by Greene— Escapes. — Hia Condition,
and that of the Americans. — Greene's Policy. — Discontinues the
Pursuit of Cornwallis — Marches to South Carolina — Appears before
Camden— and offers Battle to Lord Rawdon  199
CHAPTER XV
Cornwallis pursues his Route to Virginia. — The Partisan Warfare
in Carolina. — Marion. — Captures Fort Watson. — Greene's Move
ments. — Rawdon marches out from Camden and gives him Battle. —
Battle of Hobkirk's Hill - -  212
CHAPTER XVI.
Rawdon attempts the Camp of Greene. — Evacuates and destroys
Camden. — Capture of Fort Motte and other Posts by the Partisans. —
Rawdon at Monk's Corner.— Marion takes Georgetown — Pickens
Augusta. — Greene besieges Ninety-Six — Attempts to storm it, and is
defeated with Loss .... . . 225
CHAPTER XVII.
Greene retreats from Ninety-Six. — Is pursued by Rawdon. — The latter
evacuates Ninety-Six, and retires toward the Seaboard. — Greene
turns upon and pursues him. — Various Movements of the Armies. —
Rawdon at Orangeburg. — Greene offers him Battle. — He declines it
— Is strengthened by Cruger, and Greene retires and encamps
among the High Hills of Santee ....... 245
CHAPTER XVIII.
Incursion of the Partisans under Sumter into tbe Lower Country. —
Capture of Dorchester. — Alarm in Charleston. — Attempt on the Post
at Biggins. — Abandoned by the British. — Pursuit of Coates. — Affair
at Quinby Bridge. — Battle at Shubrick's - ... 258
CHAPTER XIX.
The Camp of the Hills. — Greene's Army and his Labor. — The Capture
and Execution of General Hayne. — Excitement of Greene and the
Camp. — Retaliation threatened. — Stuart in Command of the British
Army.— Successes of American Cavalry. — Greene's Army in Motion.
— Retreat of Stuart. — Takes Post at Eutaw. — Greene approaches - 269
CHAPTER XX.
Battle of Eutaw Springs - -  262
CHAPTER XXI.
ThaAmerican Army retires to the Hills of the Santee. — Its Condition
and that of the British. — The Movements of the Partisans. — Stuart at
Wantoot. — The Fall of Cornwallis. — The Hopes it inspired. — Their
Disappointment. — Greene marches for tbe Edisto. — Rapid Approach
to Dorchester. — Flight of the Garrison.— Stuart Retreats. — Alarm in
the British Army. — The Americans take Post on the Round O. - aC*

8

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XXII.
American Attempt on the British Post at John's Island. — Its Failure. —
Second Attempt. — Withdrawal of the Garrison. — The. Legislature
assembles at Jacksonborough. — Its Character. — Governor Rutledge.
— His Speech. — Compliments Greene. — Address of the Senate and
House of Representatives to Greene. — The latter Body votes him
Ten Thousand Guineas. — Liberality of Georgia and North Carolina - 315
CHAPTER XXIII.
The State of the Army. — Wayne's Victories in Georgia. — Discontents
among the Troops of Greene. — Treachery of Soldiers of the Pennsyl
vania Line. — Their Detection and Punishment. — Continued Distress
and Sickness of the Army. — Movements of the British. — Marion
defeats Fraser. — Affair on the Combahee. — Death of Laurens. —
Pickens punishes the Tories and the Indians - - - 325
CHAPTER XXIV.
Greene's Necessities. — He resorts to Impressment. — The British pre
pare to evacuate Charleston. — That Event lakes place on the 14th of
December, 1782. — The American Army enter the City. — Their
Reception. — The Joy of the Inhabitants. — Condition of Publio Affairs
in Carolina. — Discontents and Difficulties. — Sufferings of the Army.
— Mutiny. — Army Disbanded. — Greene revisits the North. — His Re
ception by Congress. — His Monetary Difficulties. — Greene returns to
Carolina  -. - - 337
CHAPTER XXV.
His Removal to Georgia. — Challenged by Captain Gunn. — He declines
the Challenge. — The Extent, Prospect, Peace, and Beauty of his
Domains. — His Sickness and Death. — Public Sorrow and Honors on
this Event. — His Character. — Conclusion - - 351
APPENDIX.
Southern Army. — A Narative of the Campaign of 1780, by Colonel
Olho Holland Williams,- Adjutant-General - - 359
A Narrative of Events relative to the Southern Army subsequent to the
Arrival of General Gate's broken Battalions at Hillsborough, 1780 - 383

LIFE

NATHANAEL GREENE.

CHAPTER I.

Introductory. — Family of Greene. — His Enrly Education. — Occupation. — ¦
Studies. — Intimacies. — Resolution and Strength of Character.
The events which brought about the separation of the
American colonies of Great Britain from the mother-
country, have, somewhat improperly, we think, gone un
der the general name of revolution. We should prefer
to substitute for this word, that of transition, as denoting
a natural progress in history, rather than such an ex
treme and violent change as is implied by the term in
most familiar use. To the thoughtful and philosophic
mind there was nothing extreme or improbable — nothing
which the political seer might not readily have foreseen —
in the progress of opinion and necessity, in America, to
that final action which severed the ungenial ligaments,
which, from ties had grown into bonds, by which the col
onies were united to the mother-country. Their growth
and population, the gradually unfolding resources of their
territories, the embarrassments which attended their po
litical intercourse with Great Britain, the pecuniary ex
actions of the parent empire, and, above all, the humilia-
1*

10 LIPE OP NATHANAEL GREENE.
ting character of the relation in which they stood to a
country which claimed to govern them from abroad, and
by those who were not indigenous to the soil — subject
ing the native mind to a denial at once degrading to its
character, and ruinous to the national interests — were
sufficient reasons by which the separation could have
been and was foreshown. The emancipation of the
Americans from foreign rule, was the natural conse
quence of increasing numbers, and enlarged intelligence.
The infant had grown into manhood. It was capable
of going alone ; and the impulse which sundered the
leading-strings by which its movements were confined,
was the fruit of a simple progress, step by step upward,
to the possession and the exercise of a natural and inev
itable strength. It was the great good fortune of the
Americans that such was the case in their history — that
there was no abrupt or premature outbreak which would
have found them too weak for a struggle, which, under
such a circumstance, would only have served to rivet
their bands more firmly, and prolong the term of their
endurance. This must have been the event had their
history been that of a revolution — a change rather than
a progress. But the progress found them prepared with
all the necessary resources. Their numbers were not
inadequate to the struggle ; the intelligence of the peo
ple made the necessity for it a familiar and expanding
thought ; and, when, in course of time, they could evolve
' from their own ranks, statesmen and warriors who were
capable of their government as an independent nation,
it was permitted, as in the case of the Israelites^- when
they could boast of prophets, like Moses and Aaron,
equal to any ofthe Egyptian magi — that they should be
conducted out of bondage. When Virginia could pro
duce such great men as Washington, Patrick Henry, and
Jefferson j Massachusetts, Hancock and Adams ; and

THE FAMILY OP GREENE. 11
Carolina, her Marions, Moultries, and Rutledgea — there
was surely no proper necessity to look to a foreign
country for the sage or soldier. It is the curious and
conclusive fact in our history, at the beginning of tho
struggle for independence, that it found all the colonies
in possession of some one or more remarkably endowed
persons to whom the conduct of their affairs in coun
cil, and of their honor in the field, might be confided
safely. Among the men thus constituting the moral
stock of character with which the great national move
ment was begun, it is the boast of Rhode Island to have
made one of the most valuable contributions, in the per
son of Nathanael Greene.
The family of Greene was English. It left the old
for the new world somewhere in the seventeenth cen
tury, one branch of the family settling at Plymouth,
whence it subsequently removed to Providence river ;
while the other established itself in the township of War
wick, upon lands procured from the Narraganset Indi
ans. Here, upon the banks of tho stream which still
, bears the aboriginal name of Potowhommett, Nathanael
Greene, the third in descent from John, the original set
tler, built himself a mill and forge. The occupation of
the blacksmith seems to have been in no wise detrimen
tal to the social position of the family. They were
among the first European settlers of the country ; their
career was marked by usefulness, and was not without
its distinctions. John Greene, the founder ofthe family,
was one of the colonists who appeared in the first per
manent organization of the province under the charter of
Charles the Second, and others of its members rose to
offices of dignity and trust in the administration of the
affairs of the colony. In new settlements, which suffer
from a thousand influences of which a high condition of
civilization affords no just idea, the distinguishing merit of

12 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE.
the citizen must necessarily be his usefulness. He who,
in such a condition of society, is prepared to meet and
to overcome even its meanest necessities, is a benefactor,
and in just degree with the importance of his service
will be his social distinctions. Nathanael Greene, the
sire, suffered accordingly no diminution of rank when
he graced his arms with a sledge-hammer; and it is one
of the honorable distinctions, in the descendant whose
career is the subject of this volume, that he was duly
taught to wield it also. The region in which this sway
was maintained, on the waters of the Potowhommett, is
still designated by filial pride, in connexion with this
history; and the ancient mill itself, and the rude forgo
at which, father and son, the Greenes toiled, year by
year, with praiseworthy perseverance, are still subjects
of equal admiration and interest to all who delight in
the upward rise of an ambition that founds its hopes
entirely upon a compliance with the demands of duty.
Here, too, stood the humble house of stone, a single
story, in which Nathanael Greene, the subject of our
memoir — the second of six sons by a second marriage —
was born on the 27th of May, 1742. He was the fourth
of eight sons whom the father raised to manhood. Of
his infancy we know nothing. It was probably a some
what cheerless one. His mother died when he was yet
a child ; and his father, as we may imagine, was some
thing of a Spartan, in the guise of a quaker preacheT.
This venerable man is represented as filling the pulpit
with rare ability ; preaching with a force and eloquence,
a simplicity and shrewdness, which continued to edify
the meeting-house at East Greenwich for nearly forty
years.1 The functions of a pastor, however earnestly
orosecuted, found him in no degree forgetful of, or indif
ferent to, the domestic stewardship. His boys followed
J}im at the forge and at the farm, and accompanied him

niS YOUTHFUL CHARA TERISTICS. 13
to the place of prayer, with the most unvarying regu
larity. He was a rigid disciplinarian — an authority that
never once suffered itself to be disputed, without testing
the strength of the offender by the certainty of the pun
ishment. Temperate and frugal himself, the training to
which he subjected his boys — a training which was
rather strict and rigid than severe — naturally produced
similar habits among them ; and they passed, by a natural
progress, as they acquired strength for these several
employments, through all the labors of the mill, the
forge, and the farm, until they grew into athletic young
men, healthy and vigorous of person, and calm and reso
lute of mind. In one respect, the education which
Greene afforded to his sons was perhaps deficient. His
own lessons had been simply religious. Of books, he
knew none but the Bible, and regarded the sacred vol
ume as superseding the necessity for every other. The
humble elements of an English country-school, the les
sons of which were sought only during the short, bleak
days of winter, were not materially calculated to modify
the effects of this education, which accordingly impressed
itself upon the whole character and career of the subject
of our memoir, in a manner which could not be mistaken.
Hence the simplicity of his habits, the equable tone of
his mind, his "straightforwardness and integrity, the style
in which he wrote, and the inflexibility of his purpose.
These characteristics, however decidedly his own, were
not entirely at variance with a mood which was gentle
in its nature, and a disposition to society and its pleas
antries. Young Greene was not indifferent to the sports
of youth. The strictness of his training, in all proba
bility increased their attractions in his eyes ; and good
limbs and an athletic constitution enabled him to excel in
the usual amusements of a rustic life. He was chief
among the actors in all rural sports ; a leader among the

14 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
revellers in all the wholesome and hearty enjoyments
of the country; and quite an authority, at an early pe
riod, among his youthful associates, — proving clearly
certain peculiar endowments in himself, which, by tacit
consent, were admitted to have sway among their coun
cils. Rustic superstition contributed to confirm this
authority. His nativity was cast by a. Doctor Spencer,
who united the kindred professions of accoucheur and
astrologer ; and he predicted the future distinctions, dis
guised as usual in a happy generality, to which our hero
was to attain. He was to be a mighty man in Israel.
The prediction promised to be verified. The defer
ence which his young associates paid to his genius,
extended to his stern and exemplary father. He was
observed to yield to his wishes and opinions an attention
which no other of the family could obtain. The natural
ascendency of mind was felt in spite of the deficiencies
of education. These deficiencies were ofthe extremest
kind, and continued until our subject was fourteen years.
It was then that ho formed an intimacy with a lad named
Giles, a student of the university of Rhode Island, who
spent his vacation at East Greenwich. This boy, who
was probably only a clever sophomore, awakened in tho
mind of young Greene all its latent ambition. He made
him a discontent, by showing him that there were other
lessons which wisdom might teach, of importance to the
career of man, beyond those, however valuable in them
selves and vital, which took care of his spiritual inter
ests. It was from this moment — and from the lesson so
caught up — that Greene began to direct his attention to
the acquisition of books. The shelves of his friends
were ransacked with the view to the satiation of this
newly-aroused appetite. The labors of his hands were
voluntarily increased, that he might procure means to
purchase the precious volumes which he could not other-i

HIS STUDIES ENLARGED. 15
wise obtain. His usual sports were foregone ; the pleas
ures and toys of the child beguiled and satisfied him no
longer; he was no more a boy, but a student, appropri
ating every moment of leisure — nay, without waiting
for the moment of leisure — but besido the anchor forge>
or the hopper of the mill, wherever the occupation would
permit of the indulgence, he sat or stood, book in hand,
dividing his time jealously between the toils of necessity
and the object ofthe passionate desires of his mind.
This habit was not grateful to his father. He regarded
it as a form of idleness, and perhaps, in some sort, as a
profanity. Why should he want other books than the
Bible ] That had been enough for him; and the self-
esteem which made so lai'ge an element in the father's
character, naturally resented the enlarged appetites of
the son, as so much presumption. But, as the boy con
scientiously fulfilled all his duties — as neither indolence
nor negleot of his tasks, nor slovenliness in their per
formance, could be charged upon him — the sire did
not attempt to prevent him in the pursuit of his new
enjoyments. Gradually, the old man became so far
reconciled to the earnest and noble perseverance of the
youth, as to consider the necessity of seeking for him a
teacher of more capacity than had hitherto been thought
sufficient for the purposes of education. He probably
began to feel, in the influence which his son exercised
upon himself and others, and in the extraordinary pas
sion which he betrayed for books, that he was really
destined to a career very superior to that of the village
blacksmith. Lessons in Latin and mathematics, were
obtained from a man named Maxwell, and young Greene
soon formed a slight acquaintance with the ancients
through one of their own tongues, and found himself
most decidedly at home in the company of Euclid. Of
geometry, in its application to navigation and surveying,

16 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
he became a master; and his mind was now put doubly
in possession of his materials, by being trained in their
methodical management. Horace and Cesar were the
favorites of his taste, and beguiled his imagination ;
while Euclid furnished the necessary exercise for his
thoroughly-awakened and sharper intellect. Thus, toil
ing equally in mind and body — rising to the labors of
the forge when necessary, and sinking at every oppor
tunity into the well-worn seat beside it, where he had
hurriedly laid down hia book — he continued to increase
his mental possessions, without forfeiting, as is so com
monly the case, any of the vigorous muscle, or admirable
health and strength of body, which the sports and labors
of his youth had enabled him to acquire. His knowledge
of books, speaking comparatively, had greatly increased
in the brief period since he had made the acquaintance
of the sophomore. An event was now to occur, which
should contribute greatly to the proper direction of those
aims, which, however profitable in their acquisitions, as
compared with the past, were yet somewhat deficient
in method, organization, and singleness of purpose. A
happy accident was to order and direct the somewhat
desultory course of study which he had hitherto pursued.
It was the custom of Greene, whenever his labors had
afforded him the means to make any addition to his
library, to visit Newport in search of a book. On these
occasions, a little shallop, which was kept at the mills of
Potowhommett, and sent periodically to Newport and
other towns along the bay of Narraganset, with tfie
manufactures of the mills, supplied the opportunity.
Greene usually worked his passage when he visited
the town, seeking a market for his wares, the product
of his labors in his own time. It was on one of these
voyages, made with this object, when he was about sev
enteen years old, that he hastened to a bookseller in

in a

FINDS A GUIDE TO KNOWLEDGE. 17
Newport, prepared to lay out his petty earnings for a
book. But what book 1 His knowledge of literature
was quite too limited to suggest to him the name of the
volume which should be most acceptable ; and when the
bookseller naturally asked what book he wanted, he
could only blush in his ignorance, and stand confused
and silent before the inquirer. It happened that a third
person was present on this occasion, and became inter
ested in the ingenuous confusion of the boy. This was
Dr. Stiles, then a clergyman, and subsequently well known
as president of Yale college. He regarded Greene with
eyes of curiosity; and, in his appearance — his simple
garb, begrimed possibly by the labors of the forge, and
whitened by the mill — he conceived instantly the strug
gle which was in progress, of a naturally strong and
well-endowed mind, contending with equal ignorance
and poverty. He engaged the boy in conversation, and
his impressions were confirmed. The conclusion was,
that Stiles took the boy to his house, counselled and
encouraged him, became his ally in the pursuit of learn
ing, and gave a proper direction to his tastes and' studies.
This help relieved him from all future embarrassment
in seeking the means of knowledge. He had found .
something better than a teacher — he had found a guide;
and it now became the important object with our hero
to revisit Newport as frequently as possible. His pro
cess for the attainment of this object was quite character
istic. He made himself a skilful boatman. He studied
the navigation of the river. He was finally promoted to
be master of the shallop ; and the bookseller of Newport
found him frequently at his counter, gazing upon his
shelves, with the look of one who asks himself, sighing
secretly the while, "Shall I ever be the owner of such a
treasure as this 1" His private stock of books was cer
tainly a small one We know that he possessed the

18 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
Logic of Watts, Locke's famous Essay, the able volume
of Ferguson, on Civil Society, and a few other stand
ard works, like these, of an educational character-
That he spared no labor by which he might increase
these treasures, may be inferred from the fact, that his
heavy labors at the forge finally produced that lameness
of the right foot which attended him through life ; while,
to enable himself to pass from the coarse work of the
forge to the manufacture of those finer fabrics on which
his own perquisites chiefly depended, he has been known
to grind off the callosities from his hands at the grind
stone, in order to give them the necessary pliancy and
delicacy of touch ; and this when he was studying logic
and philosophy !
His visits to Stiles and Newport brought him to the
knowledge of Lindley Murray. The latter was of a
quaker family, as well as Greene, and was then on an
excursion through the quaker settlements of the eastern
colonies. A sympathy in their common objects of pur
suit brought the two young men closely together; and
Murray accompanied Greene to Potowhommett, where
he so prevailed upon the father, that young Greene was
permitted to return the visit the following winter to
Murray in New York. The latter had been particularly
well educated. His father, conscious of the unwise
hostility or indifference of the quaker sect to all liberal
studies, had done his best to make his son superior to all
theii prejudices. His acquisitions were naturally shared
with Greene. We may be sure that the blacksmith and
mill-boy, whom we have seen grinding down his fingers
in order to acquire the means of knowledge, did not
suffer the opportunity to escape for procuring it on
more easy terms, and through the pleasant medium of
friendship. It was while on this visit to New York that
he gave a new proof of that decision of character, that

INOCULATED WITH SMALL-POCK. 19
forethought and superiority over his associates and edu
cation, which were the distinguishing traits of his char
acter through life. The small-pock was prevailing with
great severity in New York. Greene knew the super
stitious dread which was entertained in regard to this
disease ; was aware of its real dangers ; and felt the
importance of passing the crisis, at a moment when his
mind could contemplate it calmly, and when it could not
interfere with any pressing employments. He availed
himself of the opportunity, to become inoculated with
it, and a blemish in one of his eyes, which did not, how
ever, impair the sight, was the consequence. The pres
ent courage of the boy in this instance, saved him from
all future apprehensions of a disease which continued
to spread terror through the country.

20 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.

CHAPTER IL
Youthful Habits.— Parental Discipline.— Progress from Books to Politics.—
» Military Studies and Marriage.
We have shown young Greene as a student. It will
be admitted that the conditions of his career have been
sufficiently arduous as well in letters as in war. But the
mind most resolute on acquisition will yet need a respite
from its toils. The body demands relief which no en
thusiasm of the intellect will be able entirely to with-
-hold, particularly in the case of one, whose physique, like
that of Greene, is well developed, and whose temper
ament is sanguine. We have seen that his boyish habit,
in the matter of sport, was quite unquakerish — that he
loved, and usually led, in the recreations of his boyish
mates. These early propensities did not desert him as
he grew older, and in consequence of his newly-awa
kened passion for books. His character, though really
sedate and temperate, was anything but morose. His
tendencies were decidedly social. Though satisfied with
a single meal per day, and indulging in no beverage
more potent than a solitary cup of tea or coffee in the
same space of time, yet there were some pleasures in
which he was ever ready to indulge to a degree which
was apparently inconsistent with his ordinary habits.
Rising at the dawn of day, and laboring at forge 01
farm while the day lasted — and sometimes, at his own
labors, to a late hour in the night — it would seem only
reasonable to suppose that he was glad when he could
retire to his couch, and that he slept soundly as soon as he

ELUDES HIS FATHER S VIGILANCE. 21
touched the pillow. Such, for a time, was no doubt the
opinion of his sober quaker father. But he was mista
ken. Young Greene was at an age when the heart par
ticularly needs society — when the instincts of the youth
naturally incline to communion with the other sex, and
when the impulsed acknowledge few restraints of mind or
body, of strength sufficient to keep them from the grati
fication of a favorite desire. Greene's quaker education
might have inculcated a sufficient hostility to dancing, to
keep him from the exercise, but that, in its indulgence,
it conducted him to female society. At eighteen or
twenty the desire fot such communion must be acknowl
edged as sufficiently legitimate for youth. It is, indeed,
one of the securities of virtue. But the father of Greene
was a quaker and not a philosopher. He made no allow
ance for such an appetite, and the son was very soon per
suaded that, if his passions were to be gratified in this
respect, it could only be in the wholesome ignorance of
his proceeding, in which he could keep the old gentle
man. The household was a very sober one. At a cer
tain hour doors and windows were to be closed and
bolted, and all good boys were to be in bed. Young
Green obeyed the requisition ; but when the father was
safe in the arms of sleep, and in full faith that all his
family were similarly disposed of, he might be seen let
ting himself down from the eaves, and speeding away to
the happy places where his young associates were busy
in the rustic dance. Thus, night after night, in the depth
of winter, would he speed away from the silent home
stead, and mingle with the village revellers. His lame
ness was too slight to offer any serious obstacle to the
inartificial movements of a country revel ; and, in thus
affording to his limbs and blood the exercises which hia
nature found equally agreeable and necessary, he did not
forfeit in any degree, or impair the value, of his book

22 LIFE OF NATHANIEL GREENE.
acquisitions. On these occasions he gave a free loose
to a temperament which was at once impulsive and amia
ble ; and the usually sedate student, and laborious worker
at hammer and hopper, proved as lighthearted as any of
his neighbors. Before dawn, he was again at home,
crowding with sleep the brief hours which were left him
ere he should be summoned to his daily tasks. But there
is a proverb that threatens the safety of any pitcher
which goes too often to the well. Whether frequent es
cape had made young Greene careless, or whether he
was betrayed by some hostile companion, it matters not;
but the quaker sire had his suspicions awakened in re
gard to the practices of his son. To be told that the son
whom he valued over all the rest, on whom he had be
stowed the best education, and to whom he fondly looked
as his successor on the floor of the meeting-house, was
guilty of such a profanity as dancing implied, was to
awaken all his indignation, and to render him equally
subtle and strict in his vigilance. He watched the move
ments of the youth, and was very soon in possession of the
most ample proofs of the correctness of his suspicions.
Greene, as usual, had stolen forth from the house when
it appeared to be wrapt in slumber. The occasion was
one of particular attractions. There was a great ball in
the neighborhood, to which he had been secretly invited.
He danced till midnight, the gayest of the gay, little
dreaming of any misadventure. . But when he drew nigh
the homestead, his keen eyes discovered the person of
his father, paternally waiting, whip in hand, beneath the
very window through which alone he could find en
trance. There was no means of escaping him. The
6tem old quaker was one of that class of people who
are apt to unite the word and blow together, the latter
being quite likely to make itself felt before the other.
In this emergency, conscious that there was no remedy

IS FLOGGED BY HIS FATHER. 23
against, or rescue from the rod, young Greene promptly
conceived an idea which suggests a ready capacity for
military resource. A pile of shingles lay at hand, and
before he supposed his father to behold his approach, he
insinuated beneath his jacket a sufficient number of thin
layers of shingle to shield his back and shoulders from
the thong. With this secret corslet he approached and
received his punishment with the most exemplary forti
tude. The old man laid on with the utmost unction, little
dreaming of the secret cause of that hardy resignation
with which. the lad submitted to a punishment which was
meant to be most exemplary.
It is doubtful if the father obtained more than a tem
porary triumph. Greene could still indulge in his recre
ations, as before, and without lessening his capacity for
duty and acquisition. His sports were never of a kind
to interfere with his proper performances. They were
the result of a necessity, such as belongs to all healthful
bodies, where the neiVous energies demand various
means and opportunities for exercise. His irregularities
were never of an animal kind, though, in the case of a
less justly-balanced mind, the ascetic philosophy and
regimen of the old quaker might have made them so.
His temperament remained the same, though his studies
were resumed. His library was gradually enlarging.
Swift and other writers of what has been — improperly
perhaps — entitled the Augustan age of English litera
ture, became his favorite studies ; and, upon the clear,
direct, and manly style of the first-named author, he en
deavored to model his own. Nor did his mental desires
limit themselves to literature only and philosophy. The
possession of Blackstone and other legal writers — to the
reading of which he was prompted by a law case of
some difficulty which disturbed the repose of the family
for some time, in consequence of the death of his two

24 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
brothers by the first marriage — opened to him a very fair
knowledge ofthe principles of English law, and prompted
his frequent attendance at the neighboring courts, where
he formed an acquaintance with judges and lawyers, and
listened with delight to their conflicts. In all these
modes was he preparing, unconsciously, for that career
of usefulness and fame through which he was yet to pass,
under the gradually-increasing discontents and troubles
of the country. Here, too, he began, for the first time,
to inform himself in politics. The village courthouse
was the natural arena for those who loved to engage in
political debate. Here it was, that young Greene began
to study and to understand the true relations existing be
tween the colonies and the mother-country. This was
a new and grateful field for a mind rather strong and
shrewd than fanciful or imaginative — of tendencies
wholly practical — sedate as well as inquiring, and not
easily led away from the true objects of study by any of
its collateral topics. He came, by degrees, to be a poli
tician as well as a lawyer.
His father, however much he might be disposed to
regard his son as erring in his tastes, was far from being
insensible to his acquisitions. Our hero naturally as
cended to the second place to himself; and became, like
himself, a strict disciplinarian in the household. His
brothers were subjected to his authority ; and the whole
family prospered under this administration. Old Greene
had not only become the sole proprietor of the Poto-
whommett mills, but had extended his domain by the
purchase of another mill at Coventry. This was assigned
to the management of our Nathanael. He was now in a
measure his own master. His means were necessarily
increased, and his library soon grew to a decent and
well-chosen collection — large at that period — of nearly
three hundred volumes. His active mind was not satis-

BECOMES A POLITICIAN. 25
fied with the selfish concerns of the mill. He took part
in the affairs of the community. Under his auspices the
first public school was established in Coventry, and the
eyes of his neighbors were already fixed upon him as
one of those men, equally steadfast and intelligent, to
whom they might properly turn in the moment of neces
sity or danger. He was now in his twenty-third year,
with manners which were at once agreeable and digni
fied — intimate with most of the leading men of the neigh
borhood — on terras of familiar intercourse with the
bench and "bar of East Greenwich, the members of which
were visiters at his father's house — and filled, in conse
quence of this position, with all the political excitements
which naturally formed the habitual subject of discussion
among such associates. To the examination ofthe great
questions which now began to disturb the country,
Greene bent all the energies of his mind. His quaker
training was not permitted to defeat his present tenden
cies. It had not sufficed to restrain the courage and
character of his ancestors, when they resisted the perse
cutions of the fanatical governor, Winthrop, of Massa
chusetts bay, when he declared war against the heretics,
and sent his petty emissaries on a crusade after the stur
dy quaker Gorton ; and, if not sufficiently powerful to
detain young Greene from the rustic revels of his neigh
bors, even when illustrated by the heavy arm and horse
whip of his father, it would scarcely prove sufficiently
imposing to keep a nature, so equally firm and eager,
from the assertion of an argument on which depended
alike the principles and the safety of the country. The
discussion of the stamp-act found him ready to engage
in politics with a hearty interest, such as might well be
assumed as fatal to his quakerism. In 1769, a king's cut
ter had been taken at Newport. Three years after wit
nessed the burning of the Gaspee, in Providence river.
2

26 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
Greene shared in the strong popular excitement on these
occasions, and his expressions .were of a nature which
threatened to draw upon him the severities of govern
ment. But, escaping from this danger, he did not the
less earnestly urge and maintain the sentiments which
had provoked it; and, with that foresight which marked
his character, he now began a series of studies still more
at variance with the precepts of the quaker, and with
due reference to the approaching necessities of the coun
try. He added to his library several of the best military
authors of the time, and attended the rude displays of the
colonial militia, then in course of organization and disci
pline throughout the states. This last proceeding out
raged all the proprieties of quakerism. He was cited
before the fathers of the sanctuary for this errantry. A
committee was appointed to sit upon his case ; but he
gave them no satisfaction. They were, however, unwil
ling to cut off the prodigal, and continued to visit and
exhort him, until, in utter despair of his conversion from
the errors of his ways, they read him, with a sad solem
nity, out of their books of brotherhood. He still pro
fessed himself a quaker, and cherished great esteem of
the sect, but his faith was one that claimed privileges for
its own, and his respect for the brethren did not prevent
him from denouncing many of its professors for their
hypocrisy. In 1770, Greene was elected to the general assembly
of the colony. Such was his popularity, that, from this
period, even after he took command of the army in the
south, he continued to be chosen by his constituents.
As a member of the legislature, without making any
figure in debate, he commanded the respect of his asso
ciates for his integrity, his excellent and manly sense,
and the general soundness of his judgment. He seldom
spoke; but, when he did, it was always with effect, in a

BECOMES A SOLDIER. 27
clear, dignified, and unembarrassed manner, which com
manded the attention of the house. In cases of difficulty
he was an understood authority. On committees of
importance he was most usually employed. When en
voys were sent to Connecticut to concert measures for
public defence, he was one of the delegates ; and here
he had an opportunity of renewing his intimacy with his
friend Stiles, who had become the president of Yale.
Doubtless, his rank would have been distinguished as a
politician, but that his peculiar talent preferred another
field of distinction. It was in 1774 that he threw off
quakerism entirely, in putting on the habiliments of the
soldier. He enrolled himself as a member of a corps
called the Kentish guards, contenting himself with being
a private soldier, having failed to secure a lieutenancy.
The Kentish guards were formed upon a favorite British
model. The corps was composed of the most worthy
of the neighboring yeomanry. In the war which fol
lowed, more than thirty of its members bore commis
sions. The time was pressing. Great Britain had
thrown off the mask. Her determination was apparent:
to coerce, rather than conciliate, the refractory colonies.
The latter were equally ready to declare themselves.
But the munitions of war were not to be had. Greene,
in particular, had no firearms. They were not the usual
furniture .of a quaker family They could only be pro
cured in Boston. It was necessary to go thither. An
old claim upon one of his father's customers, in that
place, was the pretext for his departure ; and the exter
nals of the quaker, the drab coat and the broad brim,
suggested an adequate disguise for our adventurer in
the prosecution of his real objects. At Boston, Greene
first beheld a parade of regulars. The British troops
were then in possession of that city. Little did they
suspect the motives or character of the stranger youth,

28 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
who looked so innocent in his quaker trim. Closely and
earnestly did he watch their evolutions, and carefully did
he treasure up in his memory the few hasty military les
sons which he caught up from this survey. But he did not
neglect the first object of his mission. He succeeded in
buying a musket with all the necessary accoutrements ;
and, with the aid of a wagoner, who buried the treasure
in a heap of straw at the bottom of his wagon, he con
trived to smuggle it in safety beyond the garrison and
guards of the enemy. He was successful in bringing
with him to Coventry a treasure of still greater value,
in a British deserter, an excellent drill-officer, to whom
the Kentish guards were indebted for all that was val
uable in their discipline. The success of this enterprise
secured for young Greene no small eclat among his com
panions. The musket thus procured is still preserved
in the family. One would suppose, from the summary
which we have given of his employments, that they were
sufficiently various and absorbing to satisfy the impulse
and restlessness of any nature. But the enterprise which
carried the young quaker abroad at midnight to the
rustic charivari, in defiance of his father's discipline and
horsewhip, had its special object, apart from the simple
suggestions of a cheerful temperament seeking commu
nion of its fellows. The same year which found Greene
enrolled among the military, found him enrolled in the
ranks of another order. In July, 1774, he became the
husband of Catharine Littlefield, at whose house he had
chiefly indulged in his propensity for dancing. She was
an exceedingly engaging damsel, of good family, and
but eighteen years of age. His position in life might
now be supposed thoroughly established. It is scarcely
possible that he should any longer apprehend further
parental discipline, now that he was a politician, a hus
band, and a member of the Kentish guards. It is the

BECOMES A HUSBAND. 29
responsibility, if anything, which makes the man. That
Greene was sensible of this, is naturally to be inferred
from the recognition of his claims by those around him.
He was" steadily rising in the estimation of his neighbors,
and in the calm consciousness of his own claims, strength,
and capacity.

30 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE.

CHAPTER III.
Battle of Lexington.— Rhode Island Army of Observation.— Greene its
General. — Is made a Brigadier in tho Continental Service. — Comir.ands
on Long Island.— Raised to the rank of Major-General.— Fort Lee. —
Fort Washington.— Retreat through New Jersey.— Battles of Trenton
and Princeton.
The preliminaries of the conflict were all cleared away
in the battle of Lexington. Those who still doubted of
the struggle, hoping against hope, were silenced in the
thunders of the strife on that occasion. This affair took
place in the spring of 1775. With the first tidings of
the battle, the drum of the Kentish guards beat to arms.
Already they were on their march to Boston, when the or
ders of the governor of the province recalled them to their
homes. The governor was a loyalist. It is curious that,
with a knowledge of this fact, the whig officers of the
guards should have obeyed him. They did so, and tho
troops returned, all but four of them, who, procuring
horses, went at full speed as volunteers for Boston. Of
these four, Greene was one ; one of his companions was a
brother; the remaining two were his' most trusty friends.
He arrived too late for service, but not for distinction.
His resolute and independent proceeding opened the eyes
of his comrades to his true claims. The people of Rhode
Island were very soon afforded an opportunity of showing
how gratefully his conduct on this occasion had impressed
them. The assembly of the colony voted a force of
sixteen hundred men, as an army of observation, to meet
the approaching exigency. Its officers were to be ap-

greene's personal appearance. 31
pointed by the same body ; and, with a common consent,
Nathanael Greene was raised to its command with the
rank of major-general. The preparations for war were
immediate. In a fevf days the troops were raised, the
organization begun, and Greene had exchanged the quiet
of the domestic homestead for the busy strifes and anxi
eties of camp. He had been married scarce a year, and
had just attained the age of thirty-three. His personal
appearance at this period is described as singularly com
manding and impressive. In height he was about five
feet ten or eleven inches. His frame was athletic and
symmetrical. His carriage was at once dignified, erect,
and easy. His complexion was florid, and the general
character of his face was that of manly beauty. His
features were bold, without impairing their sweetness ;
nor did the blemish of the right eye from the small-pock
materially diminish the keen and lively fire with which
it sparkled, when in conversation, in unison with the
other. The general expression of his features was that
of a placid thoughtfulness, indicative of a mind rather con
templative than passionate. His movements were free
and elastic, and his military carriage totally unimpaired
by the slight obstruction in the motion of the right leg,
which was due to his too severe, but self-imposed labors,
in early life. His manners were calm and thoughtful,
rising into cheerfulness when his mood- was unimpressed
by anxiety, and becoming even playful when the charac
ter of his associates, and the circumstances in which he
stood, permitted him to cast aside the habitual sense of
his responsibilities and duties. With a good heart, a
mind subdued to its situation, a confidence in self which
grew naturally, and by quiet degrees, with his acquisitions
of knowledge and society, the deportment of Greene
was usually graceful and impressive. With a rare pli
ancy and without effort, he could adapt himself to the

32 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
circle in which he moved ; and, whether serious or pleas-
nt, could express himself with a facility which declared
equally for the extent of his acquirements, his experience
in the world, and the sound and excellent judgment
which always informed his conversation.
It was in May, 1775, that Greene took command of
the army of Rhode Island. Several of the officers
under him became, like himself, distinguished in the war
which followed. Among these was Christopher Greene,
the hero of Red Bank, and General Varnum. The cap
tain of the Kentish guards became a colonel in the new
levies. It required but a very few days to render the
command complete in point of numbers. The hardy
yeomanry of Rhode Island turned out with a spirit
which was unsurpassed by any of the colonies, and with
which the zeal of very few could compare. Their train
ing and organization were no such easy matter. Greene
himself had nearly everything to learn ; but he devoted
himself with his usual industry and intelligence, and his
acquisitions were extraordinary and rapid. His capacity
for labor, the readiness with which he could bring mind
and body to bear upon the necessity — all the fruit of
his early habits of inquiry and toil — now stood him in
admirable stead, and enabled him to compass, as by
instinct, the knowledge which other men only acquire
by the painful investigations and work of years. His
mind was comparatively free to the one great duty which
was before him. His father was no more ; and his
brothers, harmoniously working together, might safely
be intrusted with the business — the mills and forges —
which formed the common property of the family. It
was his good fortune, no less than his genius, which ren
dered it so easy for him to address his toils so entirely to
the interests of his country.
He soon qualified himself for the tasks which had

LEAGUER OF BOSTON 33
been confided to him. Early in June, we find him with
his command engaged in the leaguer of Boston. The
post assigned him, with his contingent, was Prospect hill ;
a conspicuous point, on which, in the event of an assault
from the enemy, he would be particularly exposed. To
discipline his troops for any event, and to prepare them
particularly for this, employed his whole time and
thought. When Washington took the command of the
army, in July, the troops of Greene were pronouncpd
" the best disciplined and appointed in the whole army."
The Rhode Island blacksmith had not been hammering
at them in vain.
The arrival of Washington was an event in the career
of Greene. It afforded him one of the noblest acqui
sitions he had ever made — that of a friend, a model of
the most perfect character that ever lived. The quick
appreciative eye of the great Virginian discovered, in a
moment, and distinguished by his favor and regard, the
rare merits and talents of our subject. He at once
took him into his confidence, and an intimacy grew up
between them, almost from their first meeting, which
was destined to ripen to a most perfect maturity, and to
remain, without decay or rupture, to the last. It was
Greene who, according to the usage of the time, wel
comed Washington to the army in a public address.
The quarters of the commander-in-chief at Cambridge
were near the post which had been assigned to the Rhode
Island contingent. The opportunities for communion
between the two generals were accordingly very fre
quent, and their sympathies did not allow them to go
unemployed. The American army, soon after the arrival of Wash
ington, was placed on the continental establishment.
The effect of this arrangement was to reduce the rank
of Greene from that of a major-general to that of a
2*

34 . LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
brigadier. This change, which was productive of much
discontent with the other officers of the army whom it
similarly affected, occasioned no complaint or repining
with him. He modestly estimated his own claims as a
military man, and cheerfully yielded to the arrangement
which seemed to lessen their importance. His decision
was probably influenced, in some degree, by his deter
mination to devote himself to a military life ; the change
from the state to the national service being more than
equal, in its advantages, to the loss of that rank which
he held in the former. This descent in grade neces
sarily led to a change of his position in the siege of
Boston. It brought him to the extreme left of the army,
and in command of one of the brigades at Winter hill,
the station nearest to the enemy. This station required
Constant vigilance, but afforded no sufficient employment
for a mind so habitually active as that of Greene. The
opportunities for distinction were very few during the
campaign. The British showed but little disposition for
active encounter, and they attempted no enterprises.
The task of simply keeping them within their quarters
was irksome only, as it required no military virtues
higher than those of vigilance and patience. The spirit
was scarcely more active among the Americans. A
council of war did meditate an attempt on Boston, in
tilts event ofthe ice in the bay of Charlestown becoming
sufficiently firm to bear the army ; and this resolve was
of special disquiet to Greene, since it found him suffer
ing severely from the jaundice. He trembled on his
sick bed lest the attempt should be made without him.
But his resolution was taken, under any circumstances.
" Sick or well," said he, " I mean to be there." But
the experiment was never made. Subsequently, when
reparations were begun for making the attempt by
Water, Greene was assigned one of tbe two brigades,

HIS POLICY AND PATRIOTISM. 35
four thousand each, of picked men, who were designed
for the service. But this purpose failed, also. A med
itated assault of the British general, which might have
afforded the Americans an opportunity for trying equally
their courage and patriotism, was abandoned in conse
quence of a sudden tempest, and, hastily embarking his
troops, he evacuated Boston for New York.
The leaguer thus undistinguished by active opera
tions, would have been wholly without profit to our
Rhode Island general, but that he employed the year of
inactivity in unremitted labors to improve the drill and
organization of his brigade, and to inform himself in
every branch of the service. His correspondence, begun
at this period and continued to the close of the war, is
in proof of his industry, the clearness and coolness of
his mind, his habits of 'patient investigation, and the
eagerness with which he addressed his thoughts to all
of the great interests which belonged to the present and
future condition of the country. He was superior to
those selfish prejudices which made the New England
troops so unwilling to leave their own precincts. "I am
as ready," said he, " to serve in Virginia as New Eng
land." The country was, in his eyes, a perfect whole;
its commerce a common property ; and its fortunes only
secure in its continued and unselfish union. His opinions
were largely national ; bis views liberal and expansive.
As early as June, 1775, he declared for an entire sep
aration from Great Britain, and urged a declaration of
independence as absolutely essential, not only to the
future prosperity of the country, but as the only process
by which the present object, the support of the French
nation, could possibly be secured. He had no hope of
reconciliation with the mother-country, and his policy
was against the measure. He argued on these topics
with his usual earnestness and boldness ; and his corre-

36 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
spondence, embodying these and many other like opin
ions, on kindred subjects, written at intervals snatched
from more arduous employments, and during great suf
fering and sickness, while before Boston, shows equally
the indomitable energies of his mind, and the unselfish
ness of his patriotism.. He counselled the inoculation
of the army, while the British forces were suffering from
small-pock in Boston ; originated the hospital for the pur
pose at Coventry; and gave up his own house to the
object. He urged the recognition of one commander
over all the forces in America, to be sent wherever the
service should require ; the enrolment of a sufficient
body of troops to be enlisted for the war; and many
other measures of public policy; which, however much
doubted and disputed in that day, are now the settled
axioms of ours. His letters, in which all these prop
ositions are discussed, aro among the most valuable
remains of our revolutionary correspondence.
The removal ofthe British troops from Boston to New
York, necessarily led to the breaking up of the Ameri
can camp at the former place. A portion of the ene
my's force proceeded to Charleston, where they met
with the memorable defeat at Fort Moultrie. Acting
upon the presumption that New York was the object of
the British commander, Washington ordered his troops
in that direction. Greene's brigade was despatched to
Long Island, where he arrived about the middle of
April, and established his headquarters at Brooklyn.
The division of the army posted on Long Island was
placed under his command ; while the remainder of the
American troops were put in occupation of New York.
The fleet of the enemy, after a long voyage, entered the
Narrows late in June. Greene, whose command was
that which was obviously destined for the first trial of
strength with the assailants, devoted himself to such

BATTLE OF LONG ISLAND. 37
preparations as promised to render the issue honorable
to himself and troops. But the British, for several weeks,
lay in a singular state of inactivity at Staten island, and,
in the meantime, Greene was brought to the verge of
the grave by a bilious fever — the consequence of great
exposure and extraordinary fatigue. It was while thus
he lay, anxious and prostrated, the crisis barely passed
in his disease, that he heard the cannon of the contend
ing armies resounding in his ears. No situation could
have been more humbling to the brave and ambitious
spirit. " Gracious God !" he exclaimed, in his mental
agony and disappointment, " to be confined at such a
time !" He could scarcely lift his head from his pillow.
The thought which added to his distress at this moment,
arose from the recollection that he was the only general
officer of the Americans who had made himself familiar
with the scene of conflict. He it was who had explored
highways and byways, marked equally the woods, trav
ersed the passes, and established the redoubts and forti
fications. He, only, knew where lay the greatest peril
which were the points most accessible, and how to pro
vide against the exigency which might occur in each.
Terrible was the anxiety with which he listened, inca
pable, to the progress of the cannonade, and received,
from time to time, the reports of the conflict. Bit
ter were the tears which he shed as he was told of
the havoc made in Smallwood's division rr. his own favor
ite regiment ; and long did he feel the sore of that first
hurt to his pride %and hope, in a career which, however
noble throughout, and triumphant in the end, was des
tined to be particularly distinguished by reverses and
disappointments. The command of his brigade had
been confided, during his illness, to Major-General Sul
livan. The attack of the British was made late in Au
gust, and was pressed with energy and skill. The affair

38 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE.
is sufficiently well known. Sullivan and Stirling were
assailed in front by a force strong enough to give them
full employment, while another column of the enemy
stealthily made their way along the south side of the
island, and, turning the left wing of the Americans,
gained their rear behind the range of hills that run from
Brooklyn to Jamaica. The defence was creditable, but
overborne by numbers. Stirling and Sullivan were both
made prisoners ; and the remnant of the American army
was fortunate in making its retreat over East river, the
evening of the day of the battle, before the British had
any suspicion of their object.
Greene remounted his horse as soon as he dared ven
ture from his bed. He was impatient to retrieve his
position, and show himself in the front of danger. He
had lost nothing in public opinion by his misfortune,
but had rather gained, in the general conviction that had
he been able to take the field the results must have been
much more gratifying to the reputation and desires of
the country. With the ability to reappear in the field,
lie rose to the higher rank of a major-general, and the
resumption of his duties found them sufficiently arduous
and important. The great point of public interest and
anxiety was the city of New York. This was momently
threatened by the British. Greene was among those
who counselled against any effort to defend it. Wash
ington went a step farther, and actually counselled that
it should be burned ; but the cause itself, of the Ameri
can revolution, was quite too doubtful at this period to
permit, or indeed to justify. Congress in a proceeding
which seemed so desperate. Patriotism was somewhat
deficient in the nerve for so bold a measure. Conoress
differed from both these counsellors ; but, in willing oth-
erwUe, that body did not come to its decision with an
energy sufficiently prompt and stern for the achievement

CONFLICT AT HARLEM. 39
of the best results. Halting between two opinions, even
while the enemy was pressing his endeavors — reluctant
I o surrender the city without a struggle — and yet equally
reluctant to peril the army in its maintenance — the re
sult, as is usual in all such cases, was decidedly injurious
to both objects. Nothing was done toward making a
vigorous defence, and just as little toward putting the
army in a position of security. Thus hesitating, when
the evacuation of the city was finally resolved upon, it
proved too late to prevent a heavy loss in stores and
munitions of war, which were abandoned to the enemy.
Pursued by the British with eagerness, a brief but bril
liant stand was made at Harlem, in which Greene distin
guished himself. It was his first battle, and he describes
it as a severe one. He "fought hard" in it, and doubt
lessly, at every angry stroke, found an emollient for
that wounded self-esteem which still remembered his
disappointment at Long Island. But the stand was
made in vain. The army continued its retreat, and when
Washington marched to White Plains he detached Greene
to watch that portion of the enemy's forces which still
occupied Staten island. The command of the American
troops in New Jersey was assigned him, and his head
quarters were at Fort Lee or at Bergen, as events
required his presence at either place. The important
object of his position was to keep open the communica
tion with the main army, east of the Hudson, and secure*
for Washington a retreat, should circumstances make this
necessary. These duties were sufficiently heavy, with inadequate
numbers, and inferior officers. Greene complains bit
terly of both. His militia became insubordinate, and he
was compelled, on one occasion, to bring up his regulars
to subdue their insolence. Washington, meanwhile, had
been marching and countermarching to elude the mance-

40 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE.
vres of Howe, and to retard the progress of the enemy
across the Jerseys. His army was growing hourly more
feeble, and the troops were greatly dispirited. Short
enlistments and an unwise deference to the requisitions
of the militia, were rapidly reducing the chances of a
successful struggle. The British, on the other hand,
were exercising their best energies in the prosecution
of the war. In possession of New York, their desire
was naturally to penetrate the Jerseys, and concentrate
their next regards upon Philadelphia. Their arms were
pointed toward the position held by Greene. The gar
rison at Fort Washington was endangered. This post had
been maintained as a check upon the navigation of the
Hudson, but it was badly designed and quite inadequate
for this object. The British shipping had already passed
it with impunity, receiving and answering its cannonade,
without detriment on either side. Useless for the lead
ing purpose for which it had been held, it was proposed
to abandon it. Such was Washington's opinion, differ
ing from that of Greene, who urged the importance of
the place in obstructing the enemy in a free communi
cation with the country by way of Kingsbridge. He
suggested other considerations for keeping it ; but these,
perhaps, would not have been conclusive, had not Con
gress by resolution, determined " on retaining it as long
as possible." Under this resolution, Washington wrote
to Greene to give the garrison every assistance in his
power, coupled, however, with a discretionary power to
withdraw the command should it be necessary. Greene
preferred to maintain the post, which was in the keeping
of Colonel Magaw, who had a force of two thousand
men, chiefly drawn from Pennsylvania and Maryland.
This body of troops was incorrectly supposed to be com
petent to its defence. When threatened, Greene added
to the garrison a detachment of six hundred more. He

CAPTURE OF FORT WASHINGTON. 41
himself was present with the garrison the evening be
fore the place was assaulted, encouraging the troops by
his presence and the officers by his councils. But the re
sult showed the error of attempting the defence, partic
ularly as the post could be commanded from contiguous
heights, and as an overwhelming force could be readily
concentrated upon it. The assault was made on the 16th
of November. A severe conflict followed, in which,
though successful in their objects, the British were very
roughly handled. They lost eight hundred men under
the unerring aim ofthe Maryland rifles. With anything
like an equal number of troops, the defence must have
been maintained triumphantly. But the numbers of
Howe were as five to one, and his dispositions for the
assault were made with masterly judgment. The garri
son became prisoners-of-war. Greene suffered, for a
time, from public opinion, which censured him for not
abandoning the fort in season. We have shown his rea
sons for not doing so. They are such as would probably
have influenced any officer who, like our subject, was
new to military life, lacking experience, and necessarily
influenced in his judgment by the opinions and wishes
of his superiors. It is only that confidence which gtows
equally from indomitable will, and a veteran career, that
can venture, in the face of authority, to assume the re
sponsibility of independent action. Whatever reproaches
may be urged against Greene, must be shared equally
with Washington and Congress. The resolution of tho
latter stares him in the face, and, though allowed some
discretion by the former, the importance of the post is
yet dwelt upon as justifying every pains and expense in
the endeavor to- preserve it. It was for this reason that
Greene, instead of withdrawing the garrison, added to
its force when it was threatened by the enemy. It will
be no disparagement to his ability, if we admit that he

42 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE.
may have deceived himself as to the strength of the po
sition, and its capacity for defence. He, himself, had but
little training as an engineer, and in this branch of the
service the American army, at the beginning of the revo
lution, and, indeed, throughout the progress of the war,
was lamentably deficient. It was the consciousness of
this deficiency, that led to the undue and improper ele
vation to command of so many European officers of small
merit. The fall of Fort Washington naturally led to a demon
stration upon Fort Lee. Washington anticipated this
attempt, and gave orders for the evacuation of the place ;
but the means of transportation could not be found iu
season, and the orders of Washington had scarcely been
received before the British force, destined for the con
quest of the fort, was seen crossing the Hudson. At
the head of this force was Lord Cornwallis, with whom
Greene was subsequently to come in conflict in frequent
campaigns. With a strong body of British and Hessians,
his aim was to cut off the retreat of the garrison, toward
the Hackensack river. This was early on the morning
of the 18th of November. Greene rose from his bed to
the encounter. The space between himself and the river
was four miles. Cornwallis was nearer the object by
half the distance. Yet such was the rapidity and energy
of the American general, that he contrived to throw
himself in the path of the British, before the head of the
river had been gained, and keep him at bay until Wash
ington — to whom advice of the danger had been sent —
could come up to his relief. Greene's conduct on this
occasion was the subject of as much eulogy as, in the
affair of Fort Washington, it had been of censure. Leav
ing the commander-in-chief to deal with Cornwallis, he
hurried back to the fort, and conveyed the remains of tho
garrison in safety across the Hackensack.

SURPRISE OF TRENTON. 43
The losses ofthe Americans, by the capture and aban
donment of these forts, were particularly heavy. They
left the army of Washington in a singularly feeble con
dition. The famous retreat through the Jerseys followed,
as a natural consequence of his diminished strength.
With but three thousand men, the commander-in-chief
sullenly yielded before his enemy, until he threw tho
Delaware between the pursuer and himself. This was,
probably, the most melancholy period of doubt, humility,
and apprehension, among the Americans, in the whole
course of the revolutionary struggle. But it found
Greene as firm and undespairing as Washington ; ready
for any sacrifice but that of popular liberty — prepared
to retire to the wilderness rather than return to the domi
nation of Great Britain. Their despondency was not
irrational, nor of serious duration. It strengthened rather
than impaired their resolution, and, deserving well of
fortune, they were now destined to experience some
gleams of sunshine through the cloud. Suddenly, at the
moment of greatest seeming prostration, the columns of
Washington were set in motion for the surprise of Tren
ton. This place was occupied by a force of fifteen hun
dred Hessians, under the command of Colonel Rahl.
The surprise was eminently successful, and at once re-
aroused the nation into hope and confidence. Crossing
the Delaware on Christmas night, in a storm of wind and
rain, a detachment of the American army made its way
to the Jersey shore, and, by a forced march of nine
miles, succeeded in a secret progress which left the Brit
ish totally unapprized of their progress until they felt the
shock of battle. A few minutes decided the affair, in the
defeat and surrender of more than a thousand Hessians,
considered among the best troops of the British army.
This blow was followed up by the masterly manoeuvre
against Princeton, by which all the schemes of the enemy

44 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
were defeated — his designs frustrated againstTPhiladel-
phia, and his chain of posts temporarily broken up. In
this brilliant coup-de-main, as in the affair of Trenton,
Greene's credit was considerable. He was one of those
by whom these enterprises were counselled, and, at Tren
ton, was intrusted with the command of the left wing,
accompanied by Washington in person. It was this di
vision which first reached the town, and, having seized
upon the enemy's artillery, cut off their retreat to Prince
ton. The arrival of Sullivan with the right wing, secured
the victory. The affair at Princeton was not less bril
liant, and, next to the claim of Wasnington, as command
er-in-chief, must be that of Greene, as his admirable and
efficient second. In these two happy victories, achieved
at a moment when all seemed desperate in the condition
of the nation, the British were confounded, and the
Americans proportionably inspirited at proofs in their
officers, not only of a valor which could look coolly on the
strife with the veterans of Europe, but of a skill in strat
egic warfare which could baffle their best plans, and put
all their experience at fault. With these glorious events,
closing the campaign of 1776, the army of the Ameri
cans, not exceeding three thousand men, retired inte
winter quarters, at Morristown, New Jersey.

ARMY IN WINTER QUARTERS. 45

CHAPTER IV.
The Army in Winter Quarters. — Greene sent on a Mission to Congress.
— Explores the Highlands. — Manoeuvres of the British. — Greene in
Command of a Division. — Conspicuous in the Battle of Brandywine —
and in that of Germantown. — Sent against Cornwallis. — Retires with
the Army upon Valley Forge.
The fact that the two armies had retired into winter
quarters, did not imply inactivity on the part of either.
The little force of Washington, scarcely more than three
thousand men, regulars and militia, were kept sufficiently
busy in watching that of the enemy, which numbered
more than twenty thousand. It was in being able to
keep in check such an overwhelming force that the great
merit of Washington's generalship is to be found. The
army of the British occupied a chain of posts from
Brunswick, by Amboy, down Staten island, and thus
kept up the communication with New York. It is not
pretended that any vigilance or skill of the American
general could have foiled the enterprise of such a force,
but for the absence of that concentration, which the occu
pancy of such an extent of country must necessarily
imply. The active incidents of the war were neccssa
rily few, and of little importance, during the progress of
the winter. Greene had his share of them, being sta
tioned at Baskingridge with a separate division. A
6eries of skirmishes, which annoyed rather than discom
fited the enemy, was maintained during this period
and served, in some degree, to improve the partisan

46 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
capacity of the Americans. That Greene profited by
these lessons, in full degree with any of his contempo
raries, is the natural inference, equally from what we
know of his past habits and his future career. The
approach of a more active career was necessarily the
result of the breaking up of winter.
The British plan of the campaign of 1777 promised
to be sufficiently formidable. Their purpose was to get
possession of the southern states, and cut them off from
the support of the north. Philadelphia was still a first
object. Burgoyne was to reduce the country lying
along Lake Champlain and the river Hudson ; while
Clinton and Cornwallis, operating in Virginia and the
remote south, were to destroy, in detail, the several
members of the confederacy, wherever they were found
most susceptible to injury.
To meet and counteract these preparations, Wash
ington Btrove with all his powers for the reorganization
of the army. But there was nothing encouraging in
this progress. That Congress might be awakened to a
proper sense of its dangers and duties, Greene was
specially despatched to Philadelphia. This mission was
intrusted to him, in consequence of the fact, now gen
erally understood, that he was in the confidence of the
commander-in-chief — a peculiar distinction, which had
already begun to produce its natural effects of jealousy,
suspicion, and reproach. We have every reason to be
lieve that Greene executed this mission, which was one
of considerable delicacy and difficulty, with a rare judg
ment and discretion. His own good sense and expe
rience, not less than the detailed counsels of Washington,
enabled him to set before Congress the exact conditions
of affairs — the exigencies of the army and the country;
the nature of the assistance and force required ; how
the approaching dangers were to be met ; and how best

EXPLORES THE HIGHLANDS. 47
the materials of the service were to be found and em
ployed. His return to the army afforded him instant
employment in another field. Foreseeing that the New
York highlands were destined to become the theatre of
the most interesting operations, he was despatched with
General Knox to explore their passes ; to prepare foi
their defence ; for intercepting the progress ofthe enemy.
and to oppose his advance, or embarrass his retreat, as
the nature of the exigency might counsel.
To enable him to effect these objects, the militia of
Connecticut and Massachusetts were placed at his ser
vice. To a certain extent these duties were performed
as prescribed ; but the more full development of the
enemy's designs required the attention of Greene in
another quarter. The advance of Burgoyne, from the
north, was found to be simultaneous with a new effort of
Howe to penetrate New Jersey; and, leaving the desti
nies ofthe former to other hands, the energies of tho
commander-in-chief were 'low addressed entirely to the
progress of Sir William. His entreaties and expostula
tions, addressed to Congress, had not been successful in
the reorganization of the army. He was scarcely better
prepared, for the encounter of the enemy, at the close
than at the opening ofthe winter. The dawn of spring,
the season for active operations, found his regiments still
lamentably deficient in numbers,- and desponding from
the peculiar pressure of casualties, such as sickness and
small-pock, which continued to harass and to enfeeble
them. But, inactivity in an army is perhaps its worst
disease ; and, with this knowledge, though still greatly
inferior in force, with his men badly equipped and in
great part undisciplined, Washington felt the necessity
of motion. He resolved, accordingly, to throw himself
in front of the enemy, as soon as he exhibited a design
to cross the Jerseys. Toward the end of May, he broke

48 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
up his camp at Momstown, and took up a position at
Middlebrook, the natural advantages of which he dili
gently improved, rendering it a post of considerable
security and strength. Howe was already in the field,
and about the middle of June he marched out of
Brunswick. Conscious of his own superiority, it was
his policy to bring on an action with the American gen
eral ; but the latter was quite too wary to be won by the
arts of bis rival, who, he knew, would never attempt
to descend upon Philadelphia, leaving his enemy in the
rear. Failing to provoke his opponent, Howe, after a
sufficient demonstration, re-entered Brunswick, and com
menced a retrograde movement, by way of Amboy, tow
ard New York. It was then that Washington prepared
to harass his retreating footsteps. The command of a
strong detachment was assigned to Greene for this pur
pose. His orders were to follow close upon the track,
to hang upon and annoy the rear of the British, and to
embrace the first opportunity, upon the arrival of rein
forcements, which were expected under Sullivan and
Maxwell, to attack him with all his vigor. The design
was only carried out in part. So far as it was possible
for him to operate with the three brigades which he
commanded, Greene's proceedings were all that could
be expected or desired. But the anticipated reinforce
ments failed him. Sullivan did not reach the scene of
interest in time to take a part in the performance, and
the despatch to General Maxwell never reached him,
having been probably cut off by the enemy. Greene
followed upon the footsteps of the British rear, anxiously
waiting the appearance of the expected regiments ; but
in vain. He pursued as far as Piscataway; but was
compelled finally to submit to the mortifying events which
enabled the British to reach Staten island in safety.
His troops behaved with great intrepidity in several

BRITISH THREATEN PHILADELPHIA. 49
demonstrations upon the rear-guard of the enemy, but
were quite too few to venture upon engaging it.
Sir William Howe, in retreating from before his
enemy, was by no means prepared to abandon his object.
He simply drew back, in order the more effectually to
make his spring. That object was Philadelphia. But
with great good fortune and skill, he contrived to keep
the Americans in doubt as to his intentions. They knew
that he was embarking his army in his fleet ; but the
destination of the fleet was the difficult question, which
no clue in his possession could enable the American gen
eral to determine. To fly to the defence of Philadel
phia, which Washington justly thought to be his real
object, might be to leave to the enemy a country open to
invasion; and the uncertainty of his designs was greatly
increased by the length of time which, in consequence
of baffling winds, the British were at sea. All doubts
were finally dissipated by the appearance of the fleet off
Elk river, in the Chesapeake. To meet him, and pre
vent his progress at every hazard, was now the necessity
before the American general. Hastily assembling all his
disposable forces, he advanced with the elite of the army
to the meeting with Howe. Greene was sent forward
to reconnoitre and select a fit place for the encampment.
He chose for this purpose the Cross-roads, about six
miles from the enemy. This point was sufficiently near
the hostile army for the purposes of skirmishing and
conflict, and commanded, in the rear, an open country,
from which supplies and succors could be drawn at any
moment. But a council of war, in advance of Greene's
report, decided upon another position, which he did not
scruple to denounce as insusceptible of defence, — an
opinion which was subsequently justified entirely by tho
progress of events.
The division that Greene commanded was composed
3

50 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
of the Virginia brigades of Muhlenberg and Weedon.
With this division Washington marched in person. The
two armies came in sight of each other on the ridge that
divides Christiana creek from the Elk river. The British
Were estimated at eighteen thousand ; the force under
Washington at fifteen thousand, but with only eleven
thousand fit for duty. Howe manoeuvred with a view to
turn the right of Washington and cut off his communi
cation with Philadelphia. To elude this design, the
American general crossed the Brandywine creek, and
throwing up some slight works at Chads-ford, on the east
bank of the creek, he prepared to make a 6tand in this
position. Howe, who was now quite anxious to measure
swords with his wary adversary, advanced to the attack
on the 11th of September. By a ruse de guerre, he
obtained such an advantage over the Americans as tr
render the results of the day quite unsatisfactory to the
latter. While a large portion of his army, under Knyp
hausen, engaged the Americans in front, another portion
led by Cornwallis, secretly filed off upon their left, crossed
the creek at another ford, which had been left unde
fended, and was rapidly gaining the American rear. It
is said that Washington had foreseen this movement, and
would have prepared against it, but for the fact that his
mind had been held in suspense by contradictory intel
ligence. This may be so, but it neither excuses nor pal
liates the omission. Enough that, after a manly struggle
with the foe in front, the necessity became apparent foi
providing against the enemy who had gained his rear.
If Washington erred in any respect, in suffering this
manoeuvre to deceive him, he is admitted to have repaired
his error by the readiness and skill with which he adapted
his movements to the change of circumstances. The
conflict had terminated in disappointment, if not defeat.
It was now necessary, not only that Cornwallis should be

BATTLE OF BRANDYWINE. 51
arrested in his advance, but that Knyphausen should be
kept in check. To leave him to cross the stream and
fall upon the rear of the army, while it was engaged in
the struggle with Cornwallis, would be a fatal error.
Wayne was accordingly thrown, with his brigade, into
the redoubt by which the ford was commanded ; while
Greene's division, consisting of the brigades of Weedon
and Muhlenberg, was halted in the rear of Wayne, occu
pying such a position as would enable him to fly with
equal readiness to the relief of either of the parties —
that which remained at the ford, and that which went in
pursuit of Howe and Cornwallis. The rest ofthe army
under the command of Sullivan, was hurried forward,
with instructions to form and engage the main army of
the British with all possible expedition. These orders
were obeyed ; but, in consequence of a miserable regard
to etiquette, instead of forming and fighting as they
arrived on the ground, General Sullivan and Lord Stir
ling stopped to do some very unnecessary counter-march
ing; and Cornwallis very judiciously seized the oppoi--
tunity of turning upon his assailants, and charging the
Americans while they were yet busy in forming their
line of battle. Great was the confusion that ensued,
followed by a complete rout. Washington hurried to
the scene of action, but not in season to avert the disas
ter. Meanwhile, Knyphausen recommenced the battle
at the ford, and Greene was preparing to advance to the
help of Wayne, who was already in hot argument "with
him, when an order from the commander-in-chief sum
moned him to the support of the forces which had been
led against Howe and Cornwallis. With such alacrity
was this order obeyed, that the distance of four miles
was traversed by Greene's division in forty-nine minutes
He came in time to cover the retreat of the fugitives,
and to arrest the fierce and bloody pursuit of the exult-

52 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
ing enemy. It was a moment which needed all the cool
and steadfast courage of a veteran soldier; and Greene
never showed to greater advantage than in the steady
front, and the fii-m, unembarrassed spirit, with which he
encouraged his own troops, and encountered the British.
While the brigade under Weedon was halted in such a
position as to succor and sustain Wayne, should he be
forced by the superior strength of Knyphausen, that
tinder Muhlenberg, led by Greene in person, passing to
Weedon's right, met the troops of Howe and Cornwallis
upon the road. With a firmness and precision of move
ment, which compelled the admiration even of his foes,
he opened for the reception of the American fugitives,
and closed against their pursuers. A heavy fire from
his field-pieces caused a temporary pause in the earnest
ness of the British assault, while, gradually incorporating
the disordered battalions with his own, Greene slowly
yielded to a pressure, which he might only retard, and
not arrest. In this way he continflred the combat —
stubbornly fighting, sullenly retiring — until his retro
grade movement brought him to a narrow defile through
a thicket, where his quick eye readily saw that a stand
might temporarily be made. Halting at this point, he
hastily ordered his front for battle ; upon which the
British darted with flushed spirits, and a confidence that
looked to this last struggle as putting a proper finish to
the victory. They recoiled from the well-delivered fire
which encountered them, and felt the necessity of a more
deliberate demonstration if they calculated on success.
The position taken was one which required time and
industry before it could be turned. The Americans
were now recovered from their panic. The steadfast
courage of their leader had informed their own, and,
fortunately, the shades of night graciously interposed for
the safety of the weary squadrons. In this way, stub-

MANOEUVRES OF THE TWO ARMIES. 53
bornly fighting and sullenly retiring, with his face ever
set against the enemy, and with steel and shot ready to
confront him, Greene succeeded in saving the army from
the complete disaster by which it had been threatened,
and which, with a general of less coolness and nerve than
himself, must have been inevitable.
Encouraged by the degree of success which he had
obtained in this conflict, and dissatisfied that his victory
had not been made complete by the entire capture of
the American army, Sir William Howe prepared to
renew the struggle. Nor was Washington entirely un
willing to gratify his desires ; but, with a force inferior
in numbers and dispirited by defeat, he required advan
tages in the issue, reconciling this inequality, such as his
opponent did not seem willing to afford him. A few
days brought the two armies once more within striking
distance of each other ; and they were mutually pre
paring for the encounter, when a violent storm tempo
rarily prevented their purpose, and so damaged the arms
and ammunition of the Americans, that Washington was
compelled to decline fighting. The Americans retired
upon Reading. The enemy continued his approach ; and
the public policy was supposed to require, as in the case
of New York, that Philadelphia should be saved, if pos
sible. But the desires of government, as in the instance
just given, were not seconded by the adequate efforts.
Greene was employed once more in the choice of a
position for the army, which would enable it to fight or
retreat at pleasure. He chose a region, mountainous
and difficult of access, in the neighborhood of the Yellow
Springs, from which the Americans might annoy and
harass the enemy in partial encounters, or boldly en
deavor to arrest its passage over the Schuylkill. A
council of war again determined against this position,

54 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
prefen-ing a series of manoeuvres in the open field, and
in the direct face of the enemy. The result was, that
Washington found himself unequal to the. encounter, and
Philadelphia was yielded to the British general. He en
tered it in triumph on the 26th September; but it was an
unfortunate acquisition. It became his Capua, and its loss
in this way was of real service to the cause of America.
Congress removed to Lancaster; their labors serving
rather to establish a central point, upon which tho several
colonies could turn their eyes, than really to serve the
cause with any efficient councils. In some respects their
proceedings were greatly pernicious. Their resolution to
defend Philadelphia, a place of no strength as a military
position and of no importance' to the integrity of the
cause, may be described in this category. The control
which they exercised over the army was commonly mis
chievous ; particularly as they frequently offended that
jealous sensibility with regard to rank which is so impor
tant to the self-respect of the soldier. Greene, Sullivan,
and Knox, while the army lay at Middlebrook — under
impressions of injustice arising from the supposed ele
vation of a foreigner, just arrived in the country, to a
rank above them — declared themselves to Congress in
such a manner as greatly to irritate that great council of
the nation. But the lesson, if prematurely administered,
was probably of some importance, in suggesting to the
civil power a better regard to the necessary laws of rank,
in military affairs, than it had been previously accus
tomed to display. Congress was very angry, on this
occasion, with the general officers whom we have men
tioned, as concerned in this " round robin." It called
upon the offenders for an apology. But the spirits sum
moned by Glendower were not more ready with their
answer ; and the anger of the parties seemed to subside,
without further demonstrations on either side, which

POSITION OF THE BRITISH. 55
should increase the provocation. Let us return to the
rival armies.
The position taken by the British, after possession had
been obtained of Philadelphia, was at the village of
Germantown, within six miles ofthe former city. Here
lay the main body of their army; but detachments of
smaller portions were made, some having immediate
charge of Philadelphia, while others were engaged in
remote enterprises. The American army occupied a
position about sixteen miles from Germantown. The
troops, though recently mortified by defeat, were in good
spirits. Their loss at Brandywine had been compara
tively small ; and as that had been the first occasion when
the greater number of them had ever felt an enemy's
fire, that they had been so little daunted by disaster,
afforded every reason to hope better things from their
future conduct. Washington determined to try their
temper, and selected as the mark which he should first
strike, the main body of the British at Germantown.
His plan meditated a surprise, the post being without
other bulwarks than the ordinary obstructions of house
and fence, in a long and narrow village. In point of
numbers, the two armies were nearly equal ; the differ
ence, however, was greatly in favor of the British as
respects the equipments and quality of the soldiers.
The Americans were mostly raw troops, half-clad, and
miserably provided with weapons. The enemy were in
excellent trim, with all necessary armaments and imple
ments, veterans mostly from foreign service, and flushed -
with recent victory. To make a dash at them under
such circumstances, argued a degree of rashness in the
commander-in-chief which has not often been imputed
to him. But something of audacity was essential to
keep up the spirits of the nation, which had been greatly

66 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
et down by the frequent facility of retreat which their
army had shown on preceding occasions.
The order of battle in Washington's army assigned the
right wing to Sullivan. This was attended by the com
mander-in-chief in person. The left was confided to
Greene, and consisted of his own and Stevens's divis
ions, supported by M'Dougall's brigade. The army
commenced its march on the night of the 3d of Octo
ber. The attack was made at break of day on the
morning of the fourth. The British, well posted, though
unapprized of danger, were not unprepared for it. " Their
line was divided nearly equally by the village, and from
its right, strong detachments were posted, at intervals, as
far as the ridge road." This road, which, at this point,
approaches very near the Schuylkill, was guarded by the
German chasseurs. " In advance of the village, on the
Germantown road, was posted a battalion of light-infan
try," and a little in their rear was the 40th regiment,
under Colonel Musgrove. Advanced upon the limekiln
road was the battalion of light-infantry ; and on that of
York, the Queen's rangers. Both roads were measura
bly watched by the 1st and 2d battalions of the Guards,
which occupied prominent points between them. The
British army, as may be seen from these statements, was
judiciously ordered for defence against every point of
attack. No precautions were spared, and the failure of
the attempt of the Americans was probably due to the
vigilance of his patrols.
The night was an obscure one, and the morning
dawned imperceptibly in fog. The approach of the
Americans was known to the British sufficiently long to
afford them time for every preparation ; but the former,
prosecuting a midnight's march, in a darkness more than
commonly dense, struggled on, without any apprehen
sions of an enemy forewarned and deliberately awaiting

BATTLE OF GERMANTOWN. 57
them. Their progress was a painful one, over fence and
ditch, through bog and forest, seldom able, at any period,
to distinguish objects in the gloom at an arrow-shot be
yond them. The break of day scarcely aided their prog
ress, though it found them near the scene of action.
They were suddenly roused to a due sense of its ap
proach, by a smart firing in the direction ofthe "ridge"
road, which had been pursued by the American' militia
under General Armstrong. Believing this to be the
quarter at which the assault of the Americans was to be
seriously made, and that their appearance in front was
only meant as a diversion — conscious, too, that this
would have beeri the better policy ofthe assailants — the
British commander strengthened his chasseurs by strong
reinforcements. Unhappily, the militia afforded him but
little occasion for these precautions. They scarcely
looked the chasseurs in the face, and the latter proved
quite equal to the defence against such customers.
The reinforcements sent to this quarter by the British,
were speedily withdrawn to the left wing, which they
reached and strengthened at the critical moment. The
action had begun at this quarter in the steady advance
of the column under Sullivan. The battalion of British
infantry, which this column first encountered, having de
livered their fire, yielded before the bayonets of Con
way's brigade. Striking into the Germantown road,
Colonel Musgrove, with the 40th regiment, rushed for
ward to sustain them, and the battle raged warmly for
a while, until the British, feeling now the whole pres
sure of Sullivan's arm upon them, again yielded before it.
The scale was about to turn decidedly in favor of the
Americans. They had forced their way into the village,
and the squadrons which had been brought to encounter
their advance, had twice proved inadequate to the pur
pose. But the brave Englishman, yielding slowly to the
3*

58 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
pressure which he could not oppose, was prepared to avail
himself of every opportunity for showing front and offer
ing resistance. At the head of the village, directly in
the route to be pursued by the Americans, stood a strong
mansion-house of stone. This afforded a means for
arresting the assailants, of which Musgrove, with a
quick military appreciation of its advantages, readily
took possession. With five or six companies he quickly
occupied its walls, while the rest of his division fell back
upon the main body of the army. The fog lifted at this
moment, and the advancing column of Sullivan found
itself arrested by a murderous fire from the windows of
the building occupied by Musgrove. Here, unhappily,
with the view to the capture of the detachment by which
it was occupied, the assailing division was halted for sev
eral precious minutes. Knox's artillery was opened upon
the walls of stone, the unknown thickness of which gave
no reason to doubt that a breach could be readily effect
ed. But the delay being greater than had been expected,
Washington, who rode up to note the effect of Knox's
bullets, finally ordered the column to push forwaid, leav
ing a single regiment to observe and keep in check the
temporary garrison. To avoid the fatal fire from the
windows, the army inclined to the right and left, and
pressed onward to the encounter with other and no less
serious difficulties. " The left wing of the British army
had advanced as the firing on the road commenced," and
the whole line, extending from the Germantown to the
Limekiln road, was drawn up so as to meet the attack
of both the American columns. This required a new
disposition of the troops, which lost still more of the val
uable time. Posts and fences were to be torn away for
the passage of troops, horses, and artillery, and before
one portion of the army could do the work of pioneer
ing, the other half had expended all its ammnnition.

GREENC S DIVISION AT GERMANTOWN. 59
Such was the fortune of the column under Sullivan.
That under Greene was necessarily influenced and injuri
ously affected by the events which had taken place upon
the right. It had reached the scene of action at the con
templated moment. Here it was encountered vigorously
by the light-infantry of the British. This body of troops,
however, was compelled to retreat, and continued to do
so in good order, though pressed by" the American light
troops, and galled by their artillery. Through fog and
darkness, with objects scarcely visible at thirty yards, the
assailants felt their way with the bayonet, firing only
when the flash from the British guns enabled them,
with tolerable accuracy, to seek a mark. With the
lifting of the darkness, at the dawn of day, the objects
of search and assault were scarcely made more apparent.
Reaching the ground directly east of the stone-house
into which Musgrove had thrown himself, Greene's at
tention was drawn to the warm discharges of firearms
which announced the conflict of the other column with
the enemy. To halt, reconnoitre, and finally to display,
for the struggle with him also, was the work of little
time ; but the progress of events, totally beyond Greene's
knowledge, had rendered nugatory the previous arrange
ments for the battle. In the original disposition of the
American forces, it was contemplated that Sullivan
should meet and fight that part of the enemy's force
which was encamped to the west of the village, and
Greene that part which lay to tho east." But the newly-
formed front of the British, rendered a new organiza
tion necessary for Sullivan, and threw one half of his
column on the same side of the village with Greene's.
Here, expecting only to find an enemy, the rear line,
composed of Stevens's division, in the obscurity of the
morning, fired upon Wayne's division, which constituted
Sullivan's left. The front, finding itself between two fires

60 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
was thrown into confusion. Greene, meanwhile, whose
division was on the left of the whole, pressing forward to
feel the British, opened also upon the other column. A
panic necessarily followed which was fatal to the order
of Sullivan's division. They broke and yielded on each
hand, in spite of all the efforts of their officers, leaving
Greene's command to the encounter with the enemy,
which, it is alleged, was never better sustained by the
most determined veterans. It effected the service which
had that day been assigned it ; broke- the British right,
drove them at the point of the bayonet, and made a large
number of prisoners — its very zeal proving fatal in the
sequel, since, " by pressing forward in the pursuit, while
Stevens was embarrassed and detained, its right flank
became exposed ; and two regiments on the left of the
British line, not being confronted by any part of the
American force, were at liberty to wheel upon the left of
Sullivan." The battle, which had been almost won, was
soon entirely lost. The confusion in the column of Sul
livan was irretrievable. By this time, the light of day
was sufficient to discover to Greene the danger which
threatened his unsheltered flank. The rout which pre
vailed on his right, was sufficiently monitory, and, with a
sullen anger, he gave orders for retreat from that field,
which, but a little while before, he had fancied all his own.
With practised troops, even then, the event of the day
might have been retrieved; but with raw and inexperi
enced soldiers, the difficulties and dangers which men
aced the retreat, presented to the minds of their leaders
a more arduous and perilous duty than that through
which they had already gone. Musgrove still occupied
his fortress of stone; the British army had recovered
from its surprise, and, with the light increasing and gui
ding their manoeuvres, were pressing forward with the
growing hope of converting a partial defeat into a com

oreene's share in the affair. 61
plete victory. To encourage them in this hope, Corn
wallis, with a strong body of fresh troops, was pushing
on from Philadelphia, having been aroused at the first
sounds of the conflict. To retreat, under such circum
stances, was a serious matter, and Greene devoted him
self to tho task of timing and regulating, with firmness
and coolness, the retrograde movement which was now
inevitable. To keep his men from panic or despondency
— to retire sternly and sullenly, like the wounded wolf
who turns momently to rend the incautious pursuer
— to guard the rear with dogged watch and vigilance
— were duties in the prosecution of which Greene
pertinaciously exposed his person in a manner that
showed equally his devotion to his troops and the deep
mortification which he felt at being forced to forego a
victory within his very grasp. The action had been a
long and sharp one. It had lasted nearly two hours and
a half. The lost in killed and wounded was nearly equal
on both sides, each being seven or eight hundred. The
Americans suffered the additional loss of four hundred
prisoners in the surrender of Mathews's regiment. They
brought off all their artillery. The pursuit was vigor
ously urged by the British, was continued for about five
miles, and was marked by frequent conflict. Of this bat
tle, Washington and Greene both concurred in the opin
ion which the former expressed in his letter to Congress,
that " our troops retreated at the instant when victoiy was
declaring in our favor." The British opinion was, that
" in this action the Americans acted on the offensive, and,
though repulsed with loss, showed themselves a formida
ble adversary, capable of charging with resolution, and
retreating with order." Greene's enemies found several
causes for censure in the part which he took in the
affair ; but his reputation has survived the assault, and the
opinion of his more intelligent contemporaries, affirmed

62 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
by the deliberate judgment of posterity, assigns to him
the credit of a fair share of all that was meritorious in
the action.
If the Americans did not succeed in the surprise and
capture of the British at Germantown, they gave them,
in the language of the provincials, " a mighty bad scare."
It was not long that they remained in this position. They
felt too sensibly the danger of a post which was so ac
cessible to the assaults of a vigilant and enterprising
enemy, and retired upon Philadelphia. Howe, mean
while, directing all his efforts to opening a communica
tion with his fleet, ordered a reinforcement from New
York. With his eye keenly fixed on all his operations,
Washington lay at Whitemarsh, but fifteen miles distant
— not satisfied with the disappointment at Germantown —
and eager, with better hopes, to try the experiment again.
An opportunity was supposed to offer itself in a threat
ened descent of Cornwallis upon the Jerseys. With a
force of three thousand men, he crossed from Chester to
Billingsport. He had before him the twofold object of
collecting supplies for the army, and of opening the nav
igation of the Delaware by the reduction of Fort Mercer
— or Red Bank — a place already famous by its defence,
under Colonel Greene, against Count Donop and his
Hessians. It was determined, on the part of the Americans, to
despatch a force into the Jerseys, for the purpose of baf
fling the designs of Cornwallis ; and General Greene was
chosen to its command. He proceeded, with due dili
gence, upon his mission, but, before a junction could be
formed of his own with the brigades of Huntingdon and
Varnum, then in the Jerseys, the army under Cornwal
lis had been so greatly strengthened, by reinforcements
from New York, as to render idle and improper any de
cisive demonstrations on the part of the Americans.

WINTER QUARTERS. 63
Greene, however, hung upon the left wing of the enemy,
until recalled by Washington, who had reason to appre
hend for the safety of the main army, in consequence of
a movement of Cornwallis, which promised to unite the
forces of the latter with those under Howe. Such a
junction would have placed it in the power of the Brit
ish general-in-chief to strike an effective blow at the
American army, unless strengthened by the concentra
tion of all their detachments. It was the last of Novem
ber when Greene, with his column joined Washington at
Whitemarsh. Here the army remained till the night of
the 12th of December, certain movements of the British
leading to apprehensions of an attack. But the storm
passed over in cloud and murmur, and, content with a
vigilant watch upon each other, the opposing armies
tacitly agreed to forego more active enterprises for the
season. The Americans went into winter quarters at
Valley Forge, about sixteen miles from Philadelphia,
while the British, within and about that city, after all
their battles and successes, were content with just
enough conquered territory to spread their blankets
upon.

64 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.

CHAPTER V.
Greene becomes Quartermaster-General. — The British evacuate Phila
delphia. — Pursued by Washington. — The Battle of Monmouth. — Tho
Conduct of Greene in that Battle. — Joins Sullivan in an Attempt on
Newport. — Engages the British. — Retires before them on the Ap
proach of Clinton.
Winter quarters at Valley Forge, in the present
condition of the American army, though promising res
pite from the active enterprises of war, contained no
other promise. Repose, quiet, plenty — all of which
seem ordinarily implied in such a withdrawal from the
fields of war — were singularly wanting to our troops on
this occasion. Without clothing or provisions — without
order, method, or a proper officer to attend to the duty
of providing the famished and harassed soldiers —
Washington was compelled to issue orders to forage, as
in an enemy's country. This painful duty was devolved
on Greene. He naturally shrunk from a task so irk
some ; but the obligation of service was paramount to
all others, and, however reluctantly, he complied witli
the requisition. He scoured the woods and meadows,
and found spoil in plenty. The patriotism of the quakers
contemplated no sacrifices ; and the gold of Britain, which
flowed abundantly in Philadelphia, possessed a value,
in their eyes, very far superior to that which belonged to
the depreciated currency of Congress. Their cattle and
provisions, designed for those who could pay in the
precious metals, were found concealed in swamp and
thicket. Greene's scruples at appropriating them, if he

BECOMES QUARTERMASTER-GENERAL. 65
had any, were removed by the. orders of Congress — the
resolves of which body rendered liable to impressment
whatever was wanted for the army within seventy miles
of the camp. However firmly, he performed his spirit
ing gently; with as much order and regard to the sensi
bilities of the sufferer, as were consistent with the char
acter of the proceeding.
The manner in which he executed these duties — his
known habits of method, systematic arrangement, and
unwearying regard to the smallest details of business —
suggested to Washington the importance to the army of
employing him in the department of quartermaster-gen
eral. This office, one of the most vitally important to the
successes and safety of an army, had hitherto been con
fided to incompetent persons, by whom it had either been
grossly neglected or infamously mismanaged. Greene
was, however, quite unwilling to accept this office. He
disliked any appointment which required the keeping and
expenditure of the public money ; and was unwilling to
forego any of the opportunities which might offer, of
active performance in the regular line of the army. It
was only at the earnest entreaty of Washington, who
appealed to him to make the sacrifice, that he finally
consented ; stipulating, meanwhile, that he should not
lose his right of command in action.
His acceptance of the office, at once relieved the
commander-in-chief from most of his annoyances on the
score which had hitherto distressed the army, and threat
ened its disbandment. The integrity of Greene, his
precision, order, comprehensive grasp of details, and
various resources, produced the happiest effects. Order
sprang from chaos, light from darkness, and confidence,
in the minds of the people, from doubt and apprehension.
The whole course of his administration, in this new
department, was such as to reflect the highest credit upon

66 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
himself, and bring the most incalculable advantages to
the service. But his couch was by no means spread
with rosei. This " hutting at Valley Forge" during the
winter quarters of 1777, was neither a period of hope
nor repose. It is true that the wives of both Washington
and Greene were present in the camp; but the peace
of Eden was not implied by the presence of woman in
the garden. It was during this memorable winter that
the intrigues which threatened to disturb the peace of
the country, by the overthrow of Washington, became
most active under the spells and machinations of Con
way, Gates, Lee, and others. " Conway's cabal" is
sufficiently known to history, to render it needless that
we should do more than refer to it in this connexion.
The intimacy of Greene with Washington, rendered it
natural that he should share in all the odium and all the
danger by which the commander-in-chief was assailed.
He, indeed, was the frequent mark, on occasions, when
Washington was the special victim ; and, where the rank
and station of the latter rendered him secure against
the assailant, Greene was usually chosen as the substi
tute against whose bosom the shaft of malice might more
surely tell. In other words, the blow was frequently
made at Washington over the shoulders of the man who
was his favorite ; and the hostility thus exercised and
tutored, continued to rage against him, long after it had
despaired to do hurt to the more distinguished object of
dislike. Undoubtedly, a great deal of this hostility was
due to his individual claims and position. His integrity,
which they could not shake ; his alliance with Washing
ton's cause, which they could not lessen or disturb ; his
prudence, which they failed to put at fault ; his growing
reputation, which they vainly endeavored to disparage,
and which was calculated to compel the finger of public
confidence to point to him as the only proper successor

CAMPAIGN OPENS OF 1778. 67
to Washington, — these were all qualities and circum
stances whicfi stimulated the rage of faction, and irritated
the sore sensibilities of envy and self-esteem.- That the
conspiracy of which Washington and Greene were the
destined victims, failed utterly of its intended objects,
did not lessen the anxieties of the injured parties, or pre
vent that frequent grief and bitterness, which naturally
flow to the innocent from such a malicious warfare.
The season for active operations was now .at hand,
and Washington steadily addressed all his energies to
the task of preparing his army for its duties. His win
ter quarters had not been consumed in idleness. With
his men and officers, for the first time beneath his eye,
he had employed the opportunity, which it afforded, of
improving their common discipline. With his force
gradually increasing in numbers, he might now reason
ably calculate on a campaign, in which a modest con
fidence in his own resources might justify him in taking
the initiate in enterprise. The capture of Burgoyne's
army was an event which confirmed the revolution at
home, and determined the doubts of those foreign nations
who longed, but hesitated, to become allies of the rebel
lious colonies. These events led to auguries with regard
to the forthcoming campaign, which naturally deepened
the anxieties, while increasing the hopes, of the Ameri
cans. That Washington was in a condition to commence
the campaign at all, was greatly due to the rare and
valuable exertions of his newly-appointed quartermaster-
general. The British general Howe, meanwhile, had been
superseded by Sir Henry Clinton. Intelligence, that a
French fleet had sailed to intercept the British army in
the Delaware, led to the evacuation of Philadelphia.
With eleven- thousand men, Clinton marched from that
city, crossing the Delaware on the 18th of June, 1778.

68 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
His course was through the Jerseys. The aim of
Washington was to thwart this progress, retard the
march, destroy the enemy in detail, and, if no opportu
nity offered for less perilous enterprise, to bring on a
general action. His force was nearly equal to that of
the British, and he crossed into the Jerseys about the
same moment. By the 22d of June, the whole of the
Americans were on the eastern bank of the Delaware,
and in a- condition and position to offer the enemy battle.
But, upon the policy of this proceeding, much discussion
ensued among the American generals. Charles Lee,
and most of the foreign officers — indeed, a majority of
the board of war — were decidedly against fighting.
Wayne and Cadwallader were as decidedly for the arbit
rament of the sword, and their opinions were enforced
by those of Greene, La Fayette, and Hamilton, who,
without urging battle at all hazard, were disposed to
follow up the enemy closely, protect the country from
his ravages, and seize upon whatever chances might
seem to promise a favorable issue for bringing on the
final encounter. Lee, whose faith in British valor was
only surpassed by his utter want of faith in the steadiness
of the Americans, was opposed to any risks, however
partial, which might result in conflict. Fortunately,
Washington had been authorized by an express vote of
Congress, which had been ascribed to the advice of
Greene, to exercise his own discretion in regard to the
decisions of his council. It was an advisory body, only,
whose opinions he might follow, or not, under the
guidance of his own judgment. The opinions of Greene
and La Fayette determined his resolve against the sug
gestions of the majority. " You wish me to fight," said
he ; and the orders soon followed which led to the battle
of Monmouth.
He had approached this place, following his enemy

BATTLE OF MONMOUTH. 69
with a close but watchful step, when he came to the
conclusion that the moment for action had arrived. La
Fayette, meanwhile, had been detached with a strong
body of troops, instructed to hang upon the British rear,
and, with discretion, to act, if circumstances should en
courage him to do so. Other detachments, riflemen and
militia, were in advance of him and on his flanks. To
protect his enormous baggage-train from these parties,
Clinton placed them under Knyphausen, with a very strong
escort, while he united the rest of his force, in the rear
to check the too close approach of the parties by which
it was threatened. The interval between the force of
Knyphausen, and that by which the rear was accompa
nied, suggested to Washington the idea of concentrating
his assault upon the latter. It was advisable to hasten
the attack, accordingly, before the enemy should reach
the high-grouds of Middletown, about twelve miles dis
tant, where he would be measurably safe. A strong
detachment, under Lee, was sent forward to join La
fayette, with instructions to engage the enemy, and
keep him employed until the rest of the forces could
be brought up. Lee, ranking Lafayette, took the com
mand, upon the junction of their separate detachments.
In pursuance of orders, he proceeded to engage the en
emy, but not seemingly with any desire to bring on the
action in earnest. A very short trial of strength found
him in full retreat — exhibiting a degree of misconduct
which the world esteems to have been wilful, and to have
been prompted by that incendiary spirit, engendered in
the cabal of Conway, the object of which was to baffle
the enterprises of Washington, lose him the confidence
of the country, and thrust him from the eminent position
which he enjoyed. In this purpose, however, Lee only
wrecked himself. He was already retiring from the field
of Monmouth, when Greene, in command of the right

70 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
wing, approached the scene of action. He had been
ordered to a particular position in the rear of the ene
my's left, but the change of circumstances, which fo
lowed upon the hasty flight of Lee, forced upon him the
necessity of using his own discretion in the choice of
another position ; and here it was, according to the com
mon opinion, that he rendered the most signal service in
checking and repelling the pursuit of the British, which
must otherwise have proved irresistible. Washington,
on first meeting with Lee in full retreat, indignantly re
proached him with his conduct, and commanded him to
face about and engage his pursuers at all hazards, while
he brought up the main body of the army to his sup
port. Aided by a sharp fire from the artillery of the
first line, Lee was enabled to obey these orders. He
turned about in good earnest, and, after a spirited but
not prolonged conflict, he retired in good order from the
field. It was during this conflict that Greene appeared
with his column. A movement of the enemy which
threatened Washington's right, caused him to order
Greene to file off from the road to Monmouth, and,
while the residue of the army pushed directly forward,
to win his way into the wood in the rear of the courthouse.
He was already on his route, in obedience to his orders,
when, foreseeing, from the flight of Lee, that Washington
must now be exposed to the whole weight of the ene
my's attack, he suddenly resolved to adapt his own prog
ress to the altered circumstances of the field. He did
so, and took an advantageous position near the British
left. This movement, as he had foreseen, diverted their
attention from the fire of the American army to his own
division. A most furious attack followed, but was en
countered by a cool determination which showed the
value ofthe winter discipline which the army had under
gone at Valley Forge. The artillery of Greene's divis-

THE BRITISH RETREAT. 71
ion was in the charge of General Knox, and, well posted
upon a commanding situation, poured in a most destruc
tive fire upon the assailants. Seconded by the infantry,
who steadily held their ground, and gave volley upon vol
ley from their small-arms, with equal rapidity of fire and
excellence of aim, the advance ofthe enemy was checked.
Repeated efforts of the British serve only to renew their
disappointments and increase their losses. Their shat
tered battalions, which had been greatly thinned by the
murderous volleys, were at length withdrawn from tbe
field, and were finally driven back, under the united ad
vance of Greene's and Wayne's infantry, with great
loss, to the position which they first occupied when Lee
began the attack. Reconnoitred in this position, with all
their strength concentrated for its defence, Washington
perceived the fruitlessness of any renewal of the assault.
The American army retired accordingly, and slept upon
tlieir arms that night, Greene, like his commander, taking
his repose, without couch or pillow, on the naked ground,
and with no other shelter than a tree, beneath the broad
canopy of heaven. Nor was this shelter sought, or this
repose found, until the wounded had been placed in due
keeping, and every soldier who had fought in his divis
ion had been solaced with the best food that the camp
supplied. With the dawn of morning the enemy was
gone. They had halted only long enough for a slight
rest and refreshment, and then silently stole away, wi.*
such rapidity, as, when their retreat was made known,
put them beyond the chances of pursuit. If the Ameri
cans did not win a victory at Monmouth, they acquired
many advantages from the combat. Their conduct be
trayed the effects of discipline and service — showed
large improvements in both respects, and led to larger
hopes and expectations from their continued exercise.
Lee's disobedience of orders, assuming a discretion which

72 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
the result did not justify, was probably the true reason why
a complete victory had not been obtained ; yet, if Lee lost
the victory by his disobedience, it is quite as certain that
Greene's departure from orders, insured the final safety
of the army, after the first disaster had endangered it.
His quickness, the excellence of his judgment in the
choice of a new position in the moment of exigency, and
the firmness with which he maintained it, greatly contrib
uted to raise his reputation.
The cloud of war continued to pass to the northward.
Clinton reached New York in security, while Washing
ton inclined to the left, in order to defend the Jerseys,
and secure the passes of the Highlands. The American
forces were now in a condition to attempt offensive op
erations. Their conduct at Monmouth had inspirited
the hopes of the people, and the arrival of a French
fleet, under D'Estaign, which was decidedly superior to
that of the British, encouraged to the boldest enterpri
ses. An attack, of the combined troops of France and
America, was planned against the British forces in Rhode
Island. They had held the town of Newport, since the
fall of 1776, and Clinton, on his retreat from Philadel
phia, had increased the strength of his arms in that quar
ter, and abundantly supplied them with all the munitions
of war. To be in train for making an attempt on this
position, Washington, on the first advices of a French
fleet to be expected, detached Sullivan to Rhode Island
with a small army of observation, and with a power to
make requisitions upon the neighboring militia. When
the French fleet did arrive, after a grievous season of
delay, Lafayette was sent, with a reinforcement, to join
Sullivan. Greene soon followed, and from him, though
serving under Sullivan, the' largest expectations were
formed. He, himself, was anxious for service in his na
tive state ; and he gladly yielded the duties of the quar-

CONDUCT OF THE FRENCH. 73
termaster-general's department, for those of more conspic
uous performance in the field. His arrival was welcomed
with delight, volunteers crowded to his standard, and the
utmost confidence of the result prevailed equally among
the people and the troops. On the 8th of August, the
French fleet entered Narraganset bay, under a heavy
fire from the British batteries, which they quickly passed.
Preparations for the attempt on Newport were then be
gun. A plan of attack was arranged for the next day,
but was delayed till the 10th, "in consequence of the
non-arrival of certain troops of Massachusetts and New
Hampshire." Meanwhile, Pigot, who commanded the
British, became alarmed for his outer line and withdrew
the troops from it within the lines by which the town
was immediately defended, thus abandoning without a
blow, at least two thirds of the island. With the discov
ery of this proceeding, Sullivan instantly crossed, with
his whole force, to the island, and occupied the lines
which had been abandoned by the enemy. This move
ment gave serious offence to Count D'Estaign, a captain
who stood very much on etiquette. The next day, in
stead of being employed in action, was consumed in dis
cussion ; and while D'Estaign was proving himself a
very prince of punctilio, a new party appeared in the
field, to engage in the dispute after another fashion.
This was Lord Howe, in command of the British
fleet. It was still in the power of the allied forces to
have captured Newport. The fate of the British garri
son was inevitable. The French fleet lay in a position
of complete security, and the only hope of the wily
British admiral, was in beguiling his conceited adversary
from the game which was certain, to the doubtful issue
of a sea-fight. Melancholy to say, he was successful in
his object. The French count, who had been captious
in asserting his supposed authority and resenting fan-

74 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
cied slights from the first moment that he showed himself
in the country, held it a point of honor to accept the chal
lenge of the British fleet, in advance of all other consid
erations. He was thus earned out to sea, several days'
sail,, manoeuvring to get the weather-gage, and finally
losing the very object of his quest, in a furious gale,
wh ch separated the rival fleets, and scattered them over
the ocean.
Left thus to their own resources, the situation of the
Americans became embarrassing, if not full of danger.
There were but eight thousand men fit for duty, and
more than half of these wore militia. The British were
nearly the same number, well chosen, under excellent
discipline, and protected by the most admirable works
of art. To carry the place by storm was out of the
question. To maintain themselves against the enemy,
when any amount of reinforcements could be brought in
twenty-four hours from New York, was not possible ;
yet, to abandon an enterprise which had been undertaken
under such encouraging auspices, and when they might
hourly look for the reappearance of the French fleet, was
a resolution which the American general was exceed
ingly loath to adopt. Thus undecided, an attempt was
made to operate by leaguer; but, before ground could
be broken, a storm ofthe greatest violence arose, which,
for three days, raged with a fury such as marks only the
terrible hurricanes of the lower latitudes. The opera
tions of the army were suspended ; their tents, tools, and
provisions, destroyed ; ammunition and arms made unfit
for service ; and the hearts of the soldiery, already
daunted by the disappearance of their allies upon whom
they had counted so confidently, were oppressed by the
most gloomy auguries. Ten days of painful suspense
followed, in which the Americans lay before the garrison
of the enemy, divided between hope and apprehension,

CONDITION OF THE FRENCH FLEET. 75
and distressed by the most humiliating incertitude. For
tunately, during this period, though Clinton was making
his preparations for the relief of the place, no enterprises
were attempted by the British which could increase their
perils. At length, the French fleet reappeared, and
bore in toward the land. But the storm had made itself
felt among their shattered frigates. Full of confidence,
and sanguine now of success from the co-operation of
their allies, the Americans prepared to prosecute the
assault on Newport. But, what was their discomfiture
when apprized by D'Estaign that he was no longer in a
situation to afford them any assistance. He was com'
pelled to go to Boston to refit. It was all-important to
the American general to effect a change in this resolu
tion. Greene and Lafayette were accordingly despatched
to the fleet to confer with the French commander. It
was in vain that they argued and entreated. The co
operation of two days only was implored ; and Greene
pledged himself that, under cover of the guns from the
shipping, he would plant himself firmly within the lines
of the enemy. But the French count was inflexible.
We have already seen that he had his weaknesses.
The miserable regard to etiquette which had prompted
him to forego the game within his grasp, for that which
might, and did, elude it, was in proof, to a certain degree,
of his incompetence for such a trust as that which had
been confided to him. For his farther conduct, there is
some excuse. He was unpopular with his officers ; and
the council of war, which had been called to decide
upon the arguments and entreaties of the American
general, sufficed to show to Greene the progress of such
a spirit of discontent and disaffection on board the
French fleet, as might well render its admiral reluctant
to engage in any enterprises of great responsibility. It
does not concern us to inquire the causes of D'Estaign's

76 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
unpopularity with his officers. Enough that it sened to
deprive the Americans of all the anticipated succor from
their allies
Great was the mortification and indignation of Greene,
when compelled to carry back to the camp the final
refusal of the French admiral. There, it produced noth
ing but dismay. Another effort was made to stay the
departure of the fleet ; or, at least, to secure the co-oper
ation of the land forces. But it proved equally ineffec
tual with the former. D'Estaign pursued his voyage to
Boston ; and, to increase the fears and dangers of the
Americans, it was now understood that Clinton was rap
idly approaching from New York. These tidings com
pleted their panic and disappointment. The militia could
no longer be detained. That very night, they deserted
in such numbers, that, with the morning, Sullivan found
his force reduced from eight to five thousand men.
The situation of the army had now become sufficiently
perilous ; and, in silence and darkness, on the night of
the 28th of August, the camp was broken up ; the whole
American force retreating to the shelter of a couple of
redoubts, which had been raised on the north end of the
island. Their departure was discovered with the dawn,
and a pursuit was instantly commenced by the British in
two strong columns. Greene, with the gallant regiments
of Colonels Livingston and Laurens, covered the retreat
ing movement ; and, under their steady valor and admi
rable order, the whole army reached its point of desti
nation, and was at once drawn up in order of battle.
They had scarcely put themselves in trim for fighting,
when a brisk fire from the enemy announced their close
approach. Under the belief that they had pressed forward
in detached "bodies, which might be cut off separately,
Greene was for marching out to meet them promptly, and
before the several divisions could arrive to the support

AFFAIR AT NEWPORT. 77
of each other ; but this counsel was rejected as too full
of peril. The troops were held on the defensive, only.
Greene commanded on the right, and, from a redoubt in
his front, a cannonading was maintained throughout the
day upon the enemy. This was warmly answered from
an opposite hill, of which the British had possession.
At two in the afternoon, they made an attempt to turn
the American right, and concentrated on this point all
the effective force which could be brought to operate.
Reinforcements were soon ordered to this point, and the
engagement that followed was equally prolonged and
desperate. Here, Greene was in immediate command.
His force was doubled by that of the assailants, but his
troops were among the best in the army, and now amply
declared, by their cool and steady valor, the admirable
training which they had received at Valley Forge. He
was not less fortunate in his officers. They sustained
the unequal conflict with a spirit worthy of the most
stubborn veterans ; and the enemy was finally repulsed
with great slaughter — repulsed, rather than defeated.
» The British were picked soldiers, also ; and they retired,
in good order, to the hill from which they had descended
to the attack. The engagement was a partial one; It
relieved the Americans from present pressure, but did
not extricate them from their difficulties. Though not
conclusive, it did honor to the American arms, and was
particularly gratifying, in its results, to Greene, who was
fighting in sight of his birthplace. Hundreds of tho
militia, who emptied their guns from walls and fences,
were nerved to the most desperate exertions, as they felt
that they fought beneath the eye of one of their own
kindred. Greene, himself, felt how many eyes of kin
dred — how many dear "friends and old associates — were
watching anxiously the behavior of their former com
rade. There was one, dearer than all in his sight, who,

78 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
sitting by their own lonely hearthstone, could hear the
deep and hollow reverberation of every shot, in the long
and heavy cannonade that day. The battle was resumed,
at long shot, with the next. But, " though most vigor
ously pursued and repeatedly attacked," was the language
of the very enemies of Greene, " yet, in every quarter
where an opening was made, he took his measures so
well, and had chosen his posts so judiciously, that,
although much honor was claimed and deserved on both
sides, he gained the north end of the island without sus
taining any considerable loss." He barely saved his
distance in doing so. Another day, and the Americans
would have been totally cut off by the overwhelming
force, with which, the very night of his departure, Sir
Henry Clinton appeared on the ground. He found the
nest still warm. The Americans had crossed to the
main in security; and their assailants, warned by the
sharpness and loss of the previous encounter, were not
sufficiently desperate to pursue them.

DEFENCE OF SULLIVAN. 79

CHAPTER VI.
Greene defends Sullivan for the Affair in Rhode Island. — Difficulties with
Congress in regard to the Duties of Q.uartermaster-General. — Anecdote
of his Brother. — Resigns from his Office, and offends Congress. — De
bates in that Body. — Greene commands at the Battle of Springfield.
The failure of this expedition, on the part of the Amer
icans, from whom so much had been expected, occasioned
deep mortification, and a wide excitement. Blame fell
heavily upon the officers in command ofthe expedition, and
Greene naturally came in for his share of the reproach.
A visit to tho abode of his father, which he took occasion
to make about this time, was chiefly employed in prepar
ing an elaborate exposition of the true causes of tho
failure of the enterprise, in an energetic defence of Sul
livan. This paper appears in the form of a letter, in
which a frank and generous ardor speaks unreservedly
the opinions of a mind secure in its position, and gov
erned by the most uncalculating rectitude. His visit to his
birthplace was thus employed in a manner which was quite
inconsistent with the opportunity afforded him and the
objects by which he was surrounded. In the homestead
of his youth, with the old familiar faces in his sight, one
would naturally seek escape from the thoughts of strife
and the recollections of war. Greene had now been
more than three years away from his home. He had only
once passed through it, in all this time, while hurrying
from the siege of Boston to the defence of Long Island.
During this period, change had necessarily been at work.
The administration of his affairs had been confided to

0 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
Others. The family estate had been divided, he simply
assenting to all that had been done, and taking and re
ceiving, without inquiry, the portion which had been
allotted him. A few days only were stolen for his delay
at Coventry, when he hurried on to Boston, where he
was called by his duties as quartermaster-general. Here
he strove, and not unsuccessfully, to conciliate Count
D'Estaign, whom his former deportment had greatly
prepossessed in his favor. This labor of love was equally
politic and amiable. It was one evil result of the failure
of the expedition against Newport, that it prompted the
American officers to such an expression of their indig
nation, at the conduct of the French, as must have
greatly vexed the self-esteem and increased the soreness
of the latter. Sullivan, himself, had expressed himself
in language of a character which was likely to be greatly
offensive to the government of France. To soften tho
offence, and mollify the feelings which it might produce,
was equally the care of Washington and Greene. An
opportunity occurred to the latter, in which his prompt
decision was of the last importance in preventing new
cause of provocation. It was desirable that Congress
should be put in possession of all the facts relating to
the expedition against Newport, through some confiden
tial agent, having authority to speak, and without resort
ing to any means, such as a court of inquiry, which would
give publicity to the particulars obtained. Greene was
sent by Washington for the purpose of making these
revelations. He repaired to Philadelphia, and, by a
unanimous vote of Congress, was invited to a seat on the
floor, and shown to a chair beside the president. Henry
Laurens at this time occupied the chair ; and, but a few
moments had elapsed, after Greene had taken his seat,
when a communication from the governor of Rhode
Island was announced, and an order passed that it should

TACT OF GREENE IN CONGRESS. 81
be read. Conceiving, instantly, the character of the docu
ment, and that it embodied the same feeling and senti
ments with those of Sullivan and others, which had al
ready given so much offence, Greene seized the moment,
while the clerk was unsealing the envelope, to convey to
the president a slip of paper, on which he had Written,
" For God's sake, do not let that paper be read until you
have looked it over." His suspicion was instantly adopt
ed by the president, who, in a whisper, arrested the
progress of the clerk. A call for the order of the day,
judiciously interposed at this moment, diverted attention
from the governor's despatch, which, in fact, embodied
a remonstrance against the conduct of D'Estaign, such
as could not but have painfully outraged the French
minister, who, with his suite, D'Estaign himself, and other
distinguished persons of his nation, was, at that very mo
ment, in the gallery. It is difficult to say what might
have been the degree of mischief done, had not the happy
tact of the Rhode Island blacksmith interposed for its
prevention. Greene, in fact, was quite as much a politi
cian as a general.
The year 1778 terminated without affording any op
portunity of distinction to our subject, except in his capa
city of quartermaster-general. With the departure of Sul
livan from Rhode Island, the British army under Clinton re
turned to New York. Their enterprises were no longer of
a character to merit the attention of the historian. They
degenerated into predatory expeditions only, in which
recklessifess rather than courage, crime rather than com
bat, were the distinguishing features. The details of this
career, as it nowhere involves the progress of Greene, will
not require more of our notice. The campaign of 1779
opened with characteristics not much more reputable. In
deed, all things tended to show that the British army.hope-
less of making any decided impression in a region where
4*

¦ 82 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
the nature of the climate and the characteristics of the
country offered few opportunities of successful enterprise,
and where the absence of available wealth among the peo
ple, held forth as few inducements to it, had really relin
quished all hopes of effecting a conquest ofthe states north
of the Chesapeake. Their eyes were now naturally turned
upon the southern states, where a more scattered popu
lation, and, in some places, greater opulence, promised a
more easy progress and more abundant spoils. The north
ern armies, on both sides, were now chiefly employed in
watching each other, seizing upon small lapses of conduct,
and engaging in enterprises, which afforded employment
rather than results. The British government, during
this campaign, appeared scarcely sensible of the neces
sity of making adequate efforts to reduce the colonies,
strengthened as they were by foreign alliance ; and was,
in fact, too busily employed upon the ocean and abroad,
to concentrate her resources upon this object. The
Americans, on the other hand, were, in a large degree,
enfeebled by this very alliance, and attached so much
importance to what was to be done for them by France,
that, in the northern states, at least, they were scarcely
disposed to do anything for themselves. New England,
in particular, from the moment of the withdrawal of the
enemy from her own coasts and cities, and the appear
ance of the foreign auxiliaries in the country, regarded
the contest with an apathy and indifference strangely in
conflict with her previous activity and warmth.
To a certain extent, as a natural consequence of the
inactivity of the British, this apathy prevailed in all the
colonies. It did not, however, prevent the growth of
jealousies and dissensions, such as ordinarily flow from
the selfish hopes of partisans, and the diseased ambition
of distinguished men, Assuming the war as really at an
end,— rr calculating largely upon the simple' effect of the

DISSENSIONS IN CONGRESS. 83
alliance with France as conclusive to this effect,— not
regarding how much more naturally such an alliance
would provoke the worst passions of the British, rather
than their fears, and bring down upon the colonies the
whole volume of that long-nursed national prejudice and
hostility which had been engendered between the two
great nations by the protracted strifes of centuries, the
Americans yielded themselves up to those domestic strug
gles for power and place, which, but for their premature
assumption of safety, would never, perhaps, have been
allowed to discredit their honorable achievements. Con
gress was the theatre for these dissensions. It was rap
idly growing into disrepute among the people. The
states had their own discontents and strifes, and no longer
felt disposed to comply with the federal requisitions.
The army, badly clothed and fed, and impatient ofthe neg
lect which answered its complaints and expostulations —
worn out with the drudgery of the war, without being
enlivened with the excitements of battle — was daily
sinking in repute and lessening in numbers. The system
by which it was to be sustained, that of depending upon
the states for the maintenance of quotas, instead of re
sorting to regular enlistments, was one of fatal errors,
against which the intelligent officers of the army were
remonstrating always, and constantly in vain. Public
credit, a subject equally important, needing even more
fostering, was rapidly undergoing destruction in the
equally unwise system of resorting to expedients, instead
of, at once, honestly and frankly declaring a necessity,
and boldly advancing to contend with it. In this con
dition "of things, nothing was done toward the promotion
of the cause of independence ; nothing, certainly, was
gained for its popularity; and, in all probability, a great
deal already gained was forfeited. The year 1779 was
marked by nothing in the councils of the nation, and as

84 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
little in the business of the field, which could confer
credit upon the revolution, or render its progress per
manent. No general action occurred to call Greene away
from the bureau of the quartermaster-general, in which,
by the way, he endured as much toil, and enjoyed as few
consolations, as could have been found under any for
tunes, directly in the pathway of a powerful enemy.
The ambitious strifes and dissensions in Congress did
not, of course, suffer him, or his administration of affairs,
to escape severe and unfriendly comment. If the mem
bers of that great national council could not perform
themselves, they had sufficient leisure for prompt judg
ment on the performances of others. The departments
of the quartermaster and commissary were subjects of
particular inquiry, and the most unfounded complaints
were put in circulation against the mode in which their
duties were administered. There is a vicious appetite
in man, that makes it rather grateful to him to listen to
the story of his neighbor's shame ; and the ear which
hearkens only to a conjecture and a suspicion-of miscon
duct, is very apt, in the next moment, to find for it a
tongue of evil, which Boon converts it to a tale of crime.
Greene suffered from these suspicions. Secure in the
favorable opinion of Washington, and in the approving
voice of his own conscience, though stung and mortified
to the quick by indirect imputations which he could not
condescend to combat, he was only persuaded to retain
his office in consideration of the difficulties by which it
was environed, and ofthe vital importance, to the cause,
of its energetic administration. But rumors, equally of
his incompetence, and against his honesty, continued to
circulate. They, at length, reached the ears of his kin
dred, and occasioned an interesting and touching incident,
which reflects honorably on the character of that train
ing by which the venerable old quaker, his sire, had

iMh,

8lilli!lllv;.,i1.iiiiill1!/,:1

Interview between Greene and bis Brother. — Page 65.

GREENE AND HIS BROTHER. 85
Bttiven-to inform the sensibilities of his children, with an
appetite as eager for virtuous name, as for popular
renown. The report which disparaged the honest fame
of our subject, at length, reached one of his brothers in
Rhode Island. Greene's quarters, at this time, were
near Morristown. The parties were separated by a
space of nearly two hundred miles ; yet, the moment
that the brother heard the humiliating story, he took
horse and hurried to the army. Greene's cordial recep
tion of his guest met with no answering sympathy. The
brother, before he opened his heart to the embrace
which it yet solicited, was first to learn that he dealt with
an honest man. He demanded a private interview, which
was at once vouchsafed him. " I am come, brother," he
said, in a voice nearly choked by emotion, " to inform
you that you are charged with improper conduct in your
office. Are you innocent 1" With an affectionate smile,
a calm voice, clear countenance, and a hand pressed
upon his heart, Greene answered, instantly, " I am !"
The assurance was satisfactory. The brother knew,
from the experience of long and trusting years, what
degree of confidence could be yielded to such an assu
rance. It was then that he embraced him, and, happy
and relieved, he departed as suddenly as he came. He
had but one object in the interview, and, the single inter
rogation answered, he had no other motive for delay.
But the communication sunk deeply into the heart of
Greene. He had met the inquiry of his brother with a
smile. With clear and unembarrassed brow and eye,
he had answered the painful question ; but he did not
the less suffer from the cruel wound which it inflicted,
and he resolved, as soon as possible, to break away from
the shackles of an office, equally responsible and burden
some, in which he had toiled without regard to selfish
considerations — in spite of them indeed — and had

86 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
reaped reproach and suspicions, instead of gratitude.
Fortunately for the fame of Greene, calumny itself, with
all its agents, was not able to oppose the unquestionable
evidence which his friends could produce, in favor of the
administration of his department, and in proof of his
own integrity. Congress, after an inquiry, passed a reso
lution, declaring its confidence in his ability and integ
rity. Greene was sufficiently soothed by this resolution
to listen to the entreaties ofthe commander-in-chief, and
ofthe army, that he would not relinquish the department
he had so ably managed. But calumny was not so easily
silenced : the creature was very soon, again, at her dirty
work. A remnant of the old faction of Conway, no
longer able to hurt Washington, were always eager to
wreak their malice upon Greene. To such a degree did
they carry this malice, that it was even designed, if pos
sible, to deprive him of his command in the line. But
tlieir most obvious game was to impeach his integrity.
He was supposed, or asserted, to have made a fortune
by his office ; while, in truth, he was about to retire from
it something poorer than when he entered it. It had
been to him, indeed, like that supper ofthe Barmecides,
in the Arabian tale, in which, without a single dish be
fore him, he was required to, fancy that he enjoyed the
most delicious variety. A resolution from the treasury
board required a statement of his accounts. For this
performance, but twenty-seven days were allowed him.
He expostulated against the unreasonable and oppres
sive requisition, demonstrating the moral and physical
impossibility of traversing such a wide and various field
of investigatiqn in such a space of time. An additional
month was grudgingly allowed him, while a committee
was appointed to inquire into the condition of his de
partment. The investigation resulted in his triumph.
The members of this committee, to borrow the language

Greene's troubles in office. 87
of one of them, " entered upon the investigation with
the strongest prejudices, and closed it with a unanimous
conviction of his ability, fidelity, and zeal." Here, then,
was a favorable opportunity for Greene to withdraw
from the ungracious service in which he was engaged,
and resume his station in the line, which he had always
greatly preferred ; but Washington was unwilling to
lose him, in a capacity in which he could render services
of so much importance ; and a scheme for the regulation
of the department was drawn up by the commander-in
chief, in conjunction with a committee of Congress,
which Greene entirely approved of, and which he pro
fessed himself willing to administer, without other pay
than that which accrued to him from his commission as
major-general. But Congress, with its numerous amend
ments, so mutilated the plan submitted by Washington
through its own committee, as to depart from all its most
essential particulars. Under these circumstances, Greene
no longer hesitated to make his escape from an office, in
which he had neither enjoyed repose, nor realized profit.
There was no sufficient motive to remain in a depart
ment which subjected him to equal annoyance and mor
tification. His preference was wholly given to active
duties in the line ; and indeed, as we remember, he had
stipulated for the privilege of resuming his military rank
and duties whenever a general engagement was antici
pated. Thus feeling and desiring, it was with a senti
ment of relief and pride that he covered his resignation
to Congress, of the office of quartermaster-general, re
questing that body to appoint his successor without loss
of time. He declared his own resolution no longer to
officiate in the office, except so far as was necessary to
close up his accounts, and to set fairly in operation the
new system, as adopted, for the future government of
the department.

88 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE.
This letter, so proud in tone and so peremptory in
requisition, gave great offence to Congress, and was
instantly seized upon, as so much capital for hostile
declamation, on the part of his own and the enemies of
Washington. One member immediately rose, and pro
posed that he be dismissed from the service altogether.
He had warm and powerful friends in the house, who
combated this attack. A keen and exciting discussion
followed, which ended in referring the letter of Greene
to a committee. The report of this committee embodied
the hostile sentiment, and concluded with a resolve, that
" the resignation of Nathanael Greene be accepted, and
that he be informed that Congress have no farther use
for his services." This report proves something more
than hostility to Greene. It proves that the party against
Washington was in the ascendency in Congress. But
neither his nor Greene's friends, in that body, were pre
pared to suffer the question to go by default. For ten
days, the report was under consideration ; and, during
the greater part of this time, was the subject of fierce
discussion. Still, Congress was exacting, and the sup
posed offender incorrigibly firm. He better knew his
grounds of security than did his enemies. The discus
sion was not confined to Congress. The people and the
army partook of the excitement, and Greene felt sure
of a verdict of acquittal and approval at their hands, if
he might look in no higher quarter. His cause, indeed,
was that of the army. They needed no arguments, in
his behalf, more satisfactory than their better care and
provision, their increased comforts and resources, during
his administration, than they had ever enjoyed when
Mifflin, the leader, in Congress, ofthe opposition against
him, had occupied the very office in which Greene had
superseded him. But the excitement gradually subsided.
Warned by the threatening aspect ofthe army, exhorted

GREENE RESIGNS AS QUARTERMASTER. 89
by the letters of Washington himself, and recovering, by
delay, a better tone and temper than had lately impressed
their deliberations, Congress gradually cooled off; and,
when the vote was finally taken, his resignation as quar
termaster-general was accepted, as tendered, without
any farther allusions to his commission in the line.
In the former capacity, Greene was succeeded by
Colonel Pickering ; but for two months he still continued
to execute the duties of the office, and prepare it for his
successor. He had borne the heavy burthen for nearly
three years, and had placed the department in very good
condition, all circumstances considered. His successor,
though of unquestionable ability and integrity, was not
so fortunate. The department suffered in his hands ; and
six months' experiments were sufficient to satisfy the
worst enemies of Greene, as well as his best friends, how
much injury had been done to the country by the cap
tious and cruel interference which had driven him from
duties he was so peculiarly calculated to fulfil.
The hostility against our subject began to subside the
moment he was relieved from the office which he had
only continued to hold by the persuasions of others, and
against his own desires. He gladly resumed his duties
in the line. We have noted his military career to the
close of the campaign in Rhode Island. A brief sum
mary of events, in the history of the war, is perhaps ne
cessary for the purpose of preserving the continuity of
our narrative. Withdrawing his troops from Rhode
Island, somewhere in the autumn of 1779, Sir Henry
Clinton proceeded, with all despatch, to New York,.
where he apprehended the arrival of D'Estaign, with his
fleet once more refitted, and prepared for some leading
enterprise. The French commander was now operating
with Lincoln against Savannah, which was in possession of
the British. With the fall of Savannah, which was confi

90 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
dently anticipated, D'Estaign was to unite with the com
mander-in-chief in an attempt upon New York. But
Savannah did not fall. Admirably defended by the Brit
ish, the united forces of the French and Americans re
coiled, with terrible loss, from its batteries, which the
injudicious indulgence and overweening confidence of
D'Estaign, in his own strength, had given the enemy
sufficient time to perfect. This defeat was one of the
disasters which contributed to the final conquest of South
Carolina, the troops of which state suffered severely at
Savannah. Disgraced and mortified, D'Estaign, instead
of moving upon New York, sailed for the West Indies,
while the arrival of a strong British fleet under Arbuth
not, enabled Clinton to operate offensively, and to con
centrate all his energies for the prosecution of a design,
long entertained, and twice already defeated, upon
Charleston and the southern states. It was in Decem
ber, 1779, that the British general sailed from New York,
with the best part of his army, on his expedition Against
Charleston, leaving behind him a force under Generals
Knyphausen and Patterson, which was deemed quite
equal to the duty of keeping at bay the skeleton regi
ments under Washington. Had the New England
troops been only half as numerous in the field as they
have ever been on paper, New York must have fallen ;
but the American army under the commander-in-chief,
was really less in numbers than the garrison in that city.
It will not concern .us to pursue the career of Clinton in
the south. Suffice it, that Charleston was taken, and the
British general returned to New York on tho 17th of
June, 1780. During his absence, his substitutes were
busy in enterprises rather petty — and perhaps profita
ble — than brilliant ; acquiring reputation as successful
marauders, rather than daring conquerors. With the
return of Clinton, preparations were made for something

BRITISH THREATEN SPRINGFIELD. 91
more serious on the part of the'British ; and the Ameri
can general was kept on the qui vive, uncertain where to
look for the approaching danger. Anxious for the safety
of his garrison on the North river, Washington left
Greene, with two brigades of continentals and the Jer
sey militia, at Springfield, in New Jersey ; while he,
himself, moving slowly but steadily for the north, pre
pared to take command at West Point. The move
ments of the British general seemed to menace this re
gion. His complete command ofthe New York waters,
naturally indicated West Point as accessible to enter
prise ; and this citadel of the nation, which held its armo
ries and magazines, and constituted the key to a wide
and important interior, compelled Washington to antici
pate every danger by which it might be threatened, and
to make its safety conspicuous in his regards over almost
every other consideration. But he had not proceeded a
dozen miles from Morristown, on his march for the north,
when, on the 23d of June, the heads of the British columns
were advanced from Elizabethtown in the direction of
Springfield. It was here that a considerable supply of mil
itary stores and munitions of war had been deposited ; and
the force of the British, now moving on this quarter, con
sisting of five thousand men, a large body of cavalry, and
fifteen or twenty pieces of artillery, commanded by Clin
ton in person, was quite too large to leave it doubtful
that his demonstration was a seriouf one. Washington
was soon advised, by express from Greene, ofthe threat
ened danger to his post, while the latter prepared with
all his energies to meet the emergency. This was the
first occasion in which he was in possession of an inde
pendent command ; and he soon satisfied all parties of
his admirable capacity to enjoy it. No movement ofthe
enemy had been taken without his knowledge, and with
the first show of danger, the commander-in-chief was

92 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
apprized of its approach. To do much with small means
is one'of the highest proofs of excellence in any sort of
performance. It is, perhaps, one of the most admirable
tests of a genius for the military. Greene's force was an
humble one, and it was employed in detail to guard nu
merous passes. To draw together his detached bodies,
was the first necessity, and to economize time in doing
so, was a part of this necessity. To hasten the remote
detachments to a point of rendezvous, and to order the
several bodies, more within his "control, to advance and
retard the progress of the enemy, were simultaneous,
and the work of an instant.
About eight miles from Elizabeth point the village of
Springfield lies, upon the western bank of the Rahway,
a little stream formed by the confluence of two other
and smaller streams. A range of hills formed the back
ground, and was the position, naturally a strong one,
which the American army occupied. The village was
accessible by two roads from Elizabethtown, one run
ning through Springfield, the other north of it. The
usual facilities for crossing the Rahway and its branches,
by fords and bridges, were present, and rendered the
stream itself no sort of obstacle to an enemy's approach.
To guard these bridges, three in number, and to cover the
two great routes which led to them, were the only means
of protecting the village ; but this required such an ex
tensive front as w»s scarcely within the compass of
Greene's numbers to exhibit. His proper policy, there
fore, was to push forward select bodies to check the ad
vance ofthe British columns separately, as they approach
ed on the different roads, while, from his position on the
heights, he could extend succor to either of these bodies,
as they separately seemed to require it. Colonel Dayton
was advanced, accordingly, to skirmish with the left col
umn of the enemy, while Major Lee, afterward famous

SKIRMISHES ON THE RAHWAY. 93
as the leader of the partisan legion, with his dragoons
and a small'force. of infantry, was despatched to perform
the same duty against their right. The whole force of
Greene was but thirteen hundred men, and of these, three
hundred were militia. He disposed these, as we have
seen, to the best advantage, to economize their strength,
and gain time.; and he had no reason to complain ofthe
manner in which the skirmishing forces under Lee and
Dayton performed the tasks assigned them. They made
a spirited resistance to the enemy's approach, and offered
all the opposition that squadrons so inferior could make ;
but without being able to prevent the junction of the as
sailing columns, which at length united upon the main
road, and made their appearance almost as soon as
Greene's troops, on the right bank of the Rahway, were
drawn out to receive them. His artillery was posted
behind the bridges by which the principal stream was
crossed; that of the enemy was in advance of his col
umns. A brisk cannonade ensued, which continued with
great spirit for nearly two hours. The manoeuvres of
the British, meanwhile, manifested a desire to turn the
American left, and thus get into its rear. This, as
Greene well knew, was practicable. Both the streams
from which the Rahway took its rise, were passable, as
well "by fords as by the bridge on the Vauxhall road.
The possession of the hills in his rear would be decisive
against him. It was necessary, therefore, that a new
position should be taken ; and Lee, with the pickets un
der Walker, and assisted by Ogden, was assigned to the
defence of the bridge over the southern branch of the
Rahway ; to the regiment of Shreve was given in charge
the upper bridge, over the chief branch, while Colonel
Angel, with a like force, and one field-piece, was left to
defend the passage of the principal stream. With the
residue of his force, consisting of Stark's and Max-

94 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
well's brigades, Greene retired to a strong position
among the hills in the rear, his flanks being guarded by
militia. With the first movement ofthe main body, the British
advanced upon the bridge which was held by Angel.
Their assault, aiming to force the passage, was fell and
furious. They were resisted, however, with a rare spirit,
and recoiled from their first onset with loss and confu
sion. But this success was, necessarily, temporary only.
How could such a handful of men resist, for any length of
time, a formidable column of the foe, flushed with con
fidence in experience and numbers, and bringing with
them ten pieces of artillery. The assault was renewed,
but the struggle was maintained, stubbornly, for fifty
minutes, until one fourth of the force of the American
colonel were killed or wpunded. It was not then, nor
until he knew that Greene had reached his destined
position, that Angel drew off his division, bringing away
with him his artillery and wounded, and coollj, end in
good order, retiring to the other bridge, whe' u Sh'-eve
was in position.
Equally obstinate was the defence mad ' rj Lee at
the pass confided to his keeping. Assaile-i ry the right
column of the enemy, he met the attack vi'.h a firmness
and gallantry, which only forebore the '/.niggle in the
moment of its utter hopelessness. Tho stream was
already crossed, by a considerable V,dy of the enemy,
at an upper ford ; and these, havrir; gained a hill by
which his position was commanded, compelled Lee, very
reluctantly, to abandon the po3^ which he had so nobly
held. Pushing on at the heolc of these two divisions,
the British encountered tho detachment under Shrevo,
now strengthened by lha united battalions of Lee and
Angel. Animated by the gallant example of the troops
under these officers, tt\oa<s of Shreve prepared to give a

THE BRITISH BURN SPRINGFIELD. 95
no less determined reception to the enemy. The onset
of the British was met with a welcome of shot and steel
which made them shy and reluctant; and, though ad
vancing still, they did so in a manner sufficiently modest,
to enable Shreve to retire, coolly and without confusion,
upon the main body. Here, with his regular force
drawn up in a single line, in a commanding position,
flanked by the dragoons and militia, Greene calmly stood
in waiting for the general battle. But the enterprise of
the assailants had been wonderfully cooled by the obsti
nate conflicts through which they had already gone.
They had been handled too roughly, by the small
divisions with which they had been engaged, to venture
upon the entire force of the Americans, while they pre
sented a front so determined, and occupied a position so
strong. Taught to fear by the loss which they had
already sustained, and stung to fury for the same reason,
they sought for their victims among those from whose
weapons they had nothing to apprehend. Avoiding
the conflict which Greene stood prepared to give them,
they concentrated their wrath upon the defenceless vil
lage ; and the flames of its houses soon apprized the
American general of the sort of vengeance which the
British were disposed to seek. Then it was, that the
sharpshooters of the Americans, and the militia, panting
to avenge the sufferings of their houseless innocents,
were let slip upon the scattered marauders. They stole
down to the scene of conflagration ; and many a Briton,
that day, perished by the light of the very flame which
his incendiary torch had kindled. With the general
conflagration of the village — for only four, out of fifty,
dwellings escaped — the British begun their retreat,
hastened, no doubt, by apprehensions of the approach
of Washington. Small parties of the Americans were
instantly pushed forward, to hang upon their wings and

96 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
harass their flight ; while the brigade of Starke was also
put in motion for direct pursuit. Washington had
already despatched three hundred men to Greene's
assistance, and was, himself, rapidly hurrying to the
scene of action. But the celerity with which the British
fled, unencumbered by any baggage, and protected by a
powerful rear-guard, saved them from any farther injury
than that which they had sustained in the encounters of
the day, and in the after-gleanings which were made, of
deliberately-chosen victims, by the rifles of the enraged
militia. The British reached Elizabethtown in safety,
and that night recrossed to the city. Their only real
achievement, that of the destruction of a harmless vil
lage, reflected no credit upon their chivalry ; while their
failure to effect anything against the vastly inferior force
of Greene, was as little creditable to their skill and
valor. Greene's reputation as a cool and experienced
captain — one of great resources, and of wonderful cir
cumspection — was greatly increased by this affair. The
Annual Register (British), speaking of the conduct of
the Americans on this occasion, remarks : " It was now
evident, that the British forces had an enemy little less
respectable in the field than themselves to encounter ;
and that any difference which yet remained in their
favor would be daily lessened. In a word, it was now
obvious, that all that superiority in arms which produced
such effects, in the beginning of the contest, was, in a
great measure, at an end; and that the events of the
war must, in future, depend upon fortune, and upon the
abilities of the respective commanders."

CLINTON S DESIGNS ON THE SOUTH. 97

CHAPTER VII.
Demonstrations on New York. — Treason of Arnold. — Greene appointed
to the Post at "West Point. — Gates's Defeat. — Greene succeeds him
in Command of the Southern Army. — Proceeds to the South. — Joins
the Army at Charlotte, N. C. — Treatment of Gates.
With the affair at Springfield, ended, for a season,
all the active operations of the campaign. The com
mander of the British seemed disposed to give his troops
a respite, and was, perhaps, somewhat restrained from
attempting anything at the north, in consequence of the
threatened appearance of a fleet and army from France,
in co-operation with the Americans. Besides, as already
suggested, he was preparing to shift the scene of action,
wholly, to the south. By cutting off state by state, in a
region whose population was so small, compared with
that of the northern portions of the confederacy, the
conquest, it was calculated, might be effected in detail,
beginning at the extremities, rather than striking at tho
centre, to which all the defensive energies of the con
tinent were necessarily directed. The south never, at
any time, possessed such an army as was maintained,
during the whole war, in the neighborhood of the chief
cities of the north.
The Americans were inactive from other causes.
The succors of France, a fleet and army under De
Tierny, arrived early in July. This fleet was superior
to that of the British, and, with the troops which it
brought, ought to have secured to the allies equal ascen
dency by land and sea. But this superiority was soon
5

98 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
more than counterbalanced by the arrival of reinforce
ments to the British, under Admiral Graves ; and, though
the American militia, encouraged by the strong force
brought by their allies, had taken the field with new
activity and in considerable numbers, yet, this show of
spirit was rendered abortive by the position of the
French, who were blockaded, by a superior fleet, in the
harbor of Newport. Clinton prepared to make a dem
onstration on Newport ; while Washington, equally on
the alert, stood ready to make a corresponding attempt
upon New York. By the greatest efforts, the means of
transportation were procured, and preparations made
for a joint attack by land and water on that city. But
Clinton was too vigilant to lose sight of this important
position. Discovering his enemy's game, he regained
his fortresses by a prompt retrograde movement, which
put his stronghold once more in a state of security.
With the abandonment of the enterprise against New
York, Washington proceeded to Hartford, there to meet
and consult with the French commander in regard to
future operations. He left the army in charge of Greene.
This vigilant general was soon led to suspect that the
British commander was meditating a secret movement
of great importance. He had established a regular
communication with New York, and obtained consider
able intelligence through the medium of his spies ; but
these, though satisfied that an important expedition was
designed by the enemy, were entirely at fault when it
became necessary to define its objects. Conjecture was
nearly equally divided between Rhode Island and Vir
ginia. The casual language of the enemy, and his open
demonstrations, looked equally to these points. Greene
was not to be deceived. He writes to Washington that
he suspects " some secret expedition in contemplation ;
the success of which depends altogether upon its being

TREASON OF ARNOLD. 99
kept secret." This letter was -written on the 21st of
September: the whole mystery was developed on the
23d, when Andr6 wa3 taken prisoner, and the treachery
of Benedict Arnold discovered. The well-known object
of Arnold's negotiation, was the delivery of West Point
to the British. The importance of this place to the
interests, if not the cause, of American independence,
needs no recital. The moment chosen was particularly
auspicious for the British, inasmuch as the arrival of
Rodney, with his fleet, not only gave them an abundance
of water transportation, but enabled Clinton to engage
in a distant enterprise, and yet leave New York in a
state of security against the enterprise of the Americans.
Greene's first knowledge of the defection of Arnold
was derived from a letter of Hamilton, received on the
25th. It explained all that was mysterious in the pro
ceedings of the British. Without delay, he prepared
to march the army to the defence of West Point. On
the morning of the 26th, his whole force had been put
under marching orders, and, with the second division, in
obedience to instructions from Washington, he pushed
forward with this command, as far as King's ferry, the
remainder of the army being held in readiness to move
at any moment.
It does not belong to us to nan-ate the details of
Arnold's treachery; and the fate of Andre is too well
known to require more than a passing notice. Sent
under close guard to the American camp, Washington,
in a private letter, gave Greene his instructions. A
court of inquiry was convened, to determine upon tho
case of the prisoner, which was of many novel features.
Greene presided at the deliberations of this court, which
was composed of men of the highest worth and greatest
dignity in the army. The opinion of the court was
unanimous. Andre was convicted on his own confession.

100, LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
Painful as was the duty, it was inevitable, and he was
sentenced to suffer as a spy. When the report of the
. sitting, drawn up by Laurens, was handed to Greene
for his signature, his head was seen to bend low upon
the paper, to hide the tear which he could not suppress.
The death-warrant bore traces, also, of the regrets of
those who, while forced to condemn, were not insensible
to pity. The graces and accomplishments of the crim
inal, his manly bearing, his youth, his talents and imputed
virtues, were considerations which, could they have been
allowed before the court of justice, would have been
sure to have made themselves felt, for his safety, through
the awakened sympathies of his judges. But, the neces
sity of the example, the peril upon whose verge the
country still stood, were conclusive arguments, which no
erring weakness of the indulgent nature could, possibly,
oppose. Andre pleaded that the manner of his death
might be changed; but this, too, a rigid justice did not
dare to concede. To die as a soldier, was not the award
of punishment. The true penalty lay in the infamy of
the death.
The proceedings of the court were duly communicated
to the British commander. Clinton made every effort
to save the victim from his doom. Commissioners
were sent to the American posts, to argue the propriety
ofthe judgment, and to arrest it if they could. But one
ofthe commissioners, General Robertson, was permitted
to land. He was met by Greene, on behalf of the com
mander-in-chief. The conference took place at'King's
ferry. -We need not, here, renew the arguments urged
on either side. Enough that no legal ingenuity could
change the firm convictions of Greene ; and Andre suf
fered, according to his sentence, at the village of Tappan,
where, at that time, the principal part of the American
army lay encamped.

Greene Signing the Report of Andre's Trial — Page LOO.

GREENE SUCCEEDS ARNOLD AT WEST POINT. 101
Greene succeeded to the command of the post at
West Point, made vacant by the treason of Arnold. He
found it in the most shocking confusion ; neglected in
most essential respects, and so prepared as to render
it an easy prey to the operations of the enemy. To place
it in instant readiness against any enterprise, was the
pressing necessity, and the proofs remain of his equal
wisdom, skill, and diligence. Nor was he suffered to
concentrate his whole thoughts and energies upon this
one subject. He was the premier of Washington, held
to a constant correspondence with the commander-in-
chief, day by day, on subjects, always of importance, and
frequently of the gravest and most complex character.
This correspondence still exists in equal proof of his
own various abilities and of the unlimited confidence
which Washington reposed in his judgment and integrity.
" Thus," says Johnson, " at one time he is called upon
to make a full estimate of all. the expenses for a year,
attendant upon an establishment of thirty-two thousand
men. At another, to sum up the whole annual expense
incident to the war, to give a view of the sums paid by
each state toward it, and their capacity to continue or
increase their present contributions. At another, to
consider the expediency of prosecuting the plans of
the campaign hitherto pursued, or what changes shall
bo adopted upon the various exigencies which might
occur," &c. These are all hard cipherings, and that
Greene should still be required to go through with them,
various and difficult as they were, and so little informed
by rule as he had been, would go to prove the wonderful
facility and resources of his mind, its ready adaptation to
novel circumstances, the comprehensiveness of his vis
ion, and the correctness of his judgment — at least in the
opinion of the commander-in-chief.
But he was soon to change the scene of his opera-

102 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
tions, while emerging into a larger scene of action.
We have already indicated that change in the plan of
invasion by which the British calculated to effect the di
vision or partial defeat, if not the entire coercion of the
colonies. The front of war was now fully turning upon the
south. Not tnat the enemy had hitherto withheld himself
from this region. Thrice had South Carolina been inva
ded, twice to the disaster and defeat of the assailants.
A third time, overwhelmed with a vastly superior force,
at the moment of her greatest weakness and exhaustion,
from previous struggles, her capital city had been over
come, and almost the entire regular army assigned to
her assistance, with a large portion of her militia, had
become prisoners-of-war. Georgia was completely pros
trate, bound hand and foot, and the invader had ad
vanced, with rapid strides, into the very heart of both
these states. A small and inadequate force of continen
tals had been pressed forward with too much rapidity,
and led headlong to complete overthrow, by the pre
sumptuous rashness .of the conquerer of Burgoyne. The
news of Gate's defeat at Camden, following close upon
the failure of the French allies to effect anything in co
operation with Washington, and the hasty disbandment
of the militia, necessarily produced, in the nation, after
the first feeling of despondency and dismay, a conviction
of the necessity of making new and superior exertions
to arrest the progress which the enemy was making in
the south. Troops must be raised to reinforce the re
mains of the southern army, and to restore the strength
of its skeleton regiments. These troops were to be
drawn wholly from the militia of the southern states,
6ince the eastern soldiers were quite unwilling to be
marched away from their own abodes. Contingents
were called for from Maryland, Virginia, Delaware, and
the Carolinas — from regions which had already felt the

GATES'S. DEFEAT AT CAMDEN. 103
drain of such requisitions, and were weary of toils that
Beemed to promise no results. These were not promptly
forthcoming, and a no less serious difficulty lay in the
choice of a general who should command them. The
fields of the south had been particularly unfriendly to
the fortunes of foreign generals. Lincoln was a prison
er-of-war, and Gates, late a favorite, was now a fugitive,
under cloud and the censure of his country. The de
feat of Gates, in itself a great calamity, since it sacrificed
an army, and encouraged wondrously the hopes of the
loyalists, was yet not without its advantages, since -it
took from him that prestige which had been wretchedly
employed by the enemies of Washington as a mean for
his discredit and overthrow. Had the commander-in-chief
been consulted, when Gates received the appointment
of Congress, Greene would have been indicated to the
command which wrecked the fortunes of the hero (so
called, but erroneously) of Saratoga. His defeat re
moved from the eyes of Congress those scales of preju
dice, which had hitherto made them blind to the deficien
cies in his character. Taught a severe lesson by the
terrible disaster at Camden, they were now better pre
pared to defer their own to the judgment of Washington.
He was at length authorized to name a successor of
Gates to the command of the southern army. There
was no doubt, when this resolve was taken, upon whom
his choice would fall ; and his preference was confirmed
by the declared wishes of the delegates in Congress from
the states most concerned in the event. Washington,
promptly, and in an affectionate letter, communicated
his desires to Greene. The latter, in modest reply, de
clared his compliance, and only entreated a short leave
of absence to " set his house in order," before departing
on a distant and perilous expedition. His request was
reasonable. He had been more than five years in the

104 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
service, and his private interests had been almost wholly
yielded up, without inquiry or examination, to the control
and care of others. But the duty was pressing. In his
reply, Washington says : " I wish circumstances could
be made to correspond to your wishes to spend a little
time at home previous to your setting out; but your
presence with your command, as soon as possible, is indis
pensable." So imperative was friendship, when coerced
by duty ! But Greene's determination had already been
made before he received this reply. He was no less
quick to feel this indispensable necessity, than his friend
to urge it. He writes, in answer : " I had given up the
thought of going home before the receipt of your letter.
My affairs required it ; but I was afraid it would tako
up too much time, considering the critical state of affairs
to the southward." A single day's further delay, and he
set forward on the rugged path of duty, not waiting even
for the embraces of his wife, momently expected, of
children scarcely seen, while departing on a journey of
nearly seven hundred miles. A low fever, which had
hung upon him for some time, the fruit of exposure and
anxiety, did not suffice to excuse a delay which his sense
of duty could not justify in favor of his affections.
Greene hastened, first, to headquarters, where his
reception was such as declared, not only for the high
favor in which he stood with Washington, but for his
greatly-increased and lofty reputation with the army.
The advice of Washington, solicitous at once for the
reputation of Greene, and for the success of his enter
prise, was freely given, and all the assistance promised
which he should be able to bestow. Here, too, ready
and eager to serve under him, he found some of the
noblest spirits of the army — Lafayette, Colonel Laurens,
Major Lee, and others — who esteemed his personal
worth, and did justice to his rare merits as a soldier.

GREENE PROCEEDS TO THE SOUTH. 105
Thus encouraged and assured, Greene hastened to
Philadelphia, where he received the instructions of
Congress in relation to the campaign, and ascertained
the full extent of the resources which were forthcoming
for his enterprise. These were few, and sufficiently
unpromising. Tho army itself was a merely nominal
existence — a shadow, rather than a substance. The
fatal defeat of Gates had lost everything in the shape of
stores, baggage, and artillery. Every article was to be
supplied, and Congress had no money. A small sum,
meant only to defray the expenses of his journey, was
all that could be procured ; while an attempt to obtain a
loan, and contributions of clothing, from the merchants
of Philadelphia, resulted only in proving, that govern
ment was as singularly wanting in credit as in cash.
But for the friendship and activity of Governor Read,
Greene must have set forth upon his expedition for the
south, almost wholly deficient in every requisite, either
for himself or his army. Read supplied him with a
certain quantity of arms and munitions from the state
magazines, and assisted him in procuring the use of bag
gage-wagons for their transportation. The annexation
of Delaware and Maryland to his military department,
from which states, hereafter, he might draw contingents,
and very liberal promises of future supplies, constituted
the full measure of all the support which Congress, at
this moment, could contribute to the maintenance of the
conflict in the south. Leaving Colonel Febiger behind .
him in Philadelphia, for no other purpose than to jog the
memories of great men in regard to these promises, and
forward the supplies as they might accumulate, Greene
set out, on the 23d of November, on his journey to the
Carolinas. He was accompanied by Baron Steuben,
and his two aids, Major Burnet and Colonel Morris. The
journey was a tedious one, which could only have been

106 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
relieved by the mode pursued by our travellers, of
encountering its monotony by an unwearied regard to all
subjects, which might be considered, in reference to the
great objects which they had in view. As the route lay
through the capitals of several states, a brief halt at the
seat of each government, enabled the general of the
southern army to investigate their resources, and to
adopt measures with the leading persons of each for
supplying and sustaining his army. To awaken them
all to a sense of the approaching danger — to show that
the cause was a common one, and was only to be ren-
.dered successful and secure by a common action — was a
chief employment during this progress. To those more
remote from the seat of danger, he showed how cer
tainly the fate of the immediate sufferer must be theirs,
unless the assailed parties, struggling for life and death,
should be seasonably succored; and insisted upon the
policy, in its most selfish aspect, of saving, harmless, the
sister state, if only that the wolf might be kept from
other thresholds. To those on the verge of the danger,
with their apprehensions already awakened for their own
safety, he showed the necessity of firmness, promptitude,
and a manly readiness to meet and brave the worst, as
the true secret at once of security and patriotism. In
order the more perfectly to keep the remoter states from
indifference and forgetfulness to the claims of those
over which the invader was already sweeping with resist
less strides, he left General Gist in Maryland, to act as
the agent for the southern army in that state and Dela
ware. The Baron Steuben was left in military charge
of Virginia. To these men, urging their duties upon
them, his language is full of impressive earnestness.
" Let your applications," he says, " be as pressing as our
necessities are urgent." — " The greatest consequences
depend upon your activity and zeal." To Steuben was

GRERNF.'s PREPARATIONS. 107
assigned the establishment of magazines and laborato
ries. The south, hitherto, had been almost wholly with
out them. The sites for these were chosen by Greene,
whose eyes, as he approached the field of operations,
were addressed to all that was important to his success.
This choice of location was one of no small difficulty.
In Maryland, they would have been too remote from the
scene of action ; in North Carolina, much too neai\
Virginia was the state in which it was necessary to
establish them. The point of Fort, at the confluence
of Revanna and Fluvanna, was decided upon for the
principal laboratory; while the chief dep6t of stores and
arms was allotted to Prince Edward courthouse. To keep
these regularly supplied with powder from the manufac
tories, and lead from the mines of Fincastle, was one of
the special duties confided to Steuben. Greene vested
him, besides, with the military command in Virginia, and
with the farther task of organizing, disciplining, and
expediting, the march of the recruits, from time to time,
intended for the southern army. Jefferson was, at this
time, the governor of Virginia. He was appealed to,
and freely promised, to use all his energies in promoting
the preparations of the state in regard to the common
danger. Virginia had, at this period, but few regular
troops in the field. A considerable body of her militia,
with all the draughts and recruits collected to reinforce the
southern army, were employed, at this very juncture, un
der the command of Generals Muhlenberg and Weedon,
in watching the movements of General Leslie, which
threatened her own safety. Her want of means and
credit was quite as great as that of Congress ; and her
movements were embarrassed at once by the presence
of danger, and the absence of adequate resources for
defence. The southern army had but little to hope
from this quarter. The resources of North Carolina,

108 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
never ample, were perhaps still less available, at this
moment, than those of Virginia. Men there were, per
haps, in sufficient numbers ; but they lacked concentra
tion, habits of drill and discipline, equipments of all
kinds, munitions of war, and military stores. There
was no money in the state, and the granaries of the
country were empty. The fall of Charleston, and the
defeat of Gates at Camden, had led to an unwise enrol
ment of vast bodies of militia, by which the country had
been ravaged, and in the support of which, such vast
quantities of paper money had been issued, as totally to
destroy its own currency.
But, witli an eye to all things, and every thought
addressed to the emergency, devising ways and means,
and undespairing in the worst discouragements, Greene
continued his way through these states, toward the field
of more active operations. With all his delays, his
progress was a rapid one, and soon brought him to the
encampment of the army at Charlotte, North Carolina,
which he reached on the 2d of December. Here, with
a noble delicacy, which keenly appreciated the exquisite
suffering of a proud and ambitious mind, sinking beneath
unexpected, though perhaps not undeserved disaster, he
relieved Gates of the command. He confirmed, for the
day, the standing orders of his predecessor, whose be
havior was marked by a dignified resignation, and a
carriage which was, at once, equally removed from the
baseness of despondency, and the insolence of a spirit
ready to brave public opinion, as it had, unhappily,
essayed to brave its fortune. It was also among the
delicate duties of Greene, while relieving Gates from the
command, to institute a court of inquiry into the conduct
by which the battle of Camden had been lost. It was
grateful to Greene that he could escape from the prose
cution of this painful investigation. The service was

Greene's behavior to gates. 109
not in a condition to allow, nor the army to make it.
The order of Washington, requiring that the "officers
of the court should consist of such general and field
officers, of the continental troops, as were not present at
the battle of Camden ; or, being present, are not wanted
as witnesses; or are persons to whom General Gates
has no objection," involved conditions which could not
be complied with. There were not, in fact, three gen
eral officers left in the army who could sit upon the
court, unless withdrawn from other places where their
presence was indispensable. Under these circumstances,
Greene gladly made such representations to Congress
as obtained a revision of their orders, by which he was
wholly relieved from a duty from which all his sensibili
ties shrunk. He regarded Gates'B case with tenderness ;
too indulgently,- perhaps — but as one of misfortune,
rather than misconduct ; _and his behavior to the unfor
tunate man — for ever fallen, by this his own catastrophe,
from the very heights of power — while it was "edifying
to the army," touched the soul of the sufferer himself,
and converted him, from a former enemy, into an attached
and grateful friend.

110 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.

• CHAPTER VIII.
Glimpses of the past Progress of the War in the South. — Condition ofthe
Country and of the Army when Greene takes Command. — His Difficul
ties — Resources — Policy. — Moves from Charlotte to Pee Dee. — Mari
on's Movements. — Cornwallis. — Morgan. — Tarleton pursues Morgan. —
Is defeated at the Cowpens.
It was on the fourth of December, 1780, that Greene
entered upon the duties of his new and arduous com
mand. It was one of singular difficulty and respon
sibility, and the means provided for his use and disposal
were strangely inadequate to the necessities before him.
The condition of South Carolina was one of great desti
tution, and of a prostration apparently complete. Her
resources seemed to be entirely exhausted, and her strong
places were wholly within the grasp of the invader. A
backward glance at her fortunes, during the war, up to
the moment when Greene was appointed to the com
mand of the southern army, would seem, in some de
gree, to be necessary to a proper comprehension of the
duties which were required at his hands, and of the dif
ficulties which lay in the way of their successful execution.
South Carolina was one of those states which are at onco
opulent and feeble. She enjoyed a large commerce, but
it was almost entirely in the hands of Europeans who
were secretly hostile to her aims at independence. Those
aims were boldly urged by her native population, con
sisting of tho high spirited gentry of tho lower country.
Her causes of quarrel with the mother-country were of
a very different nature with those that operated upon

CAUSES OF THE REVOLUTION IN CAROLINA. Ill
the people of New England. They did not arise from
feelings of jealousy between the parties in consequence
of threatened rivalry of interests. In the south the peo
ple engaged in no manufactures, and held no shipping.
They were planters, who found a ready market in Old
England for all their produce. But they felt keenly the de
nial to themselves of those privileges of self-government
which the possession of many superior intellects, and of
a highly-educated state of society among the natives, nat
urally told them should be their own. They resented
the usurpation, not only as a denial of right, but as an
indignity, which continually imposed upon them, in pla
ces of authority, the foreigner in whom they did not find
a superior, and who felt no sympathy with the soil. This
prompted them readily to seize upon the common pre
texts of the sister-colonies, and to sympathize with the
movement in New England, not because of any affinities
between the separate people, but as it afforded an occa
sion for the assertion of their rights. But their motives
were not of sufficient influence with the great body of
the people of Carolina, to make the cause a common one
throughout the state. The people were not sufficiently
homogeneous for the attainment of this important object.
Large portions of the interior country had been only
newly settled, and from European nations. The Ger
mans, having large settlements to themselves, scarcely
speaking the language of the natives, were not easily
persuaded to forego for the sway of a people whom they
did not know, the paternal government of a prince, him
self of German family. The Scotch, forming colonies
throughout the interior, preserved all their clannish pro
pensities, and their loyalty has always been the distin
guishing feature of the national character. The quaker
and Moravian settlements, which were also numerous,
! were opposed to war, on any pretences ; and thus it was

112 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
that iu the very heart of the country there dwelt a pow
erful community ready, at any opportunity, to thwart, by
indifference or active hostility, the efforts of the native
population, at the great object of national deliverance.
Not a few of the natives, also, were unprepared to strike
for independence; either doubtful of a policy which
would, perhaps, elevate the power of the northern colo
nies (of which they were jealous) at their expense, or,
doubtful if the country was yet ripe for the great experi
ment of making its further progress alone. For a time,
however, these conflicting and opposing interests were
kept in abeyance, silenced if not subdued, by the bold
and energetic measures which the patriotic party pur
sued, and the good fortune which attended their initial
efforts in arms. Successful, in singular degree, in beat
ing off a British fleet and army at the opening of the
war, and scourging into quiet and obedience the insur
gents who first made a demonstration in the interior, in
correspondence with the movements of the enemy upon
the seaboard, it was erroneously supposed that there
would be little difficulty a second time from this doubt
ful quarter. The numbers of the faithful were greatly
overrated, in the spirit and vigor which they had shown ;
the numbers of the disaffected as greatly underrated, in
the silence which they kept, and the stealthy policy which
held their true feelings secret. A second attempt at
the invasion of South Carolina, after the partial fall of
Charleston, led the patriots to suspect, in some degree,
their own weakness ; but as this invasion was again baf
fled and defeated, it was reserved for a subsequent day
of danger, to reveal the full extent of the evil from the
sources indicated.
The fall of Georgia afforded the British general a
point d'appui whence he could more easily operate
upon the sister-colony. Florida, always in his posses-

SIEGE OF CHARLESTON. 113
sion, was another mean of annoyance to South Carolina.
Here harbored all the fugitives who had been driven
forth in consequence of their uncompromising hostility
to the popular movement. A fruitless but expensive at
tempt to invade Florida — an attempt not more profitable
in its results, to recover Georgia — contributed greatly
to diminish the resources of Carolina in the personnel
and materiel of war. The bloody conflict in the attempt
ed storm of Savannah, had fallen heavily on the Carolina
troops, had diminished her regiments, had burdened her
with an excessive debt, and had destroyed the value of
her currency. The regular regiment of Georgia had
been destroyed, or was in captivity, and her own militia
had suffered severely, and been scattered or taken, in
the latter state ; surprised in the charge of incompetent
officers, under the more skilful operations ofthe invader.
Thus circumstanced, she was but feebly prepared to re
sist the third and successful attempt of the British gen
eral-in-chief to obtain firm foothold in her soil.
Charleston, besieged by a vastly superior force of the
enemy, under Sir Henry Clinton himself, succumbed, after
a siege of nearly two months. The defence had been
as well conducted and maintained as was possible by an
inadequate body of troops, threatened at once by pesti
lence and famine, and worn out by* unremitting duties in
the field. By this surrender, five thousand soldiers of the
southern army were lost, temporarily, to the pressing
wants of the country. Nor was this the only loss. It
involved others quite as heavy and important. While
the leaguer of the city had been continued, detached bod
ies of the southern militia had still kept the field. This
measure had for its object the maintenance of free com
munication between the seaboard and the interior. It
was unfortunate that this division of the strength of the
state left neither that portion assigned to the garrison, nor

114 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
that which kept tho field, in sufficient strength for safety.
With the fall of the city, and even before that event, the
British began to cut off, in detail, the scattered bodies
of militia — effecting a series of surprises, which, where
•the disparity of military discipline and experience was
so great as between these parties, was not, perhaps, of
difficult achievement. The massacre usually followed
the surprise ; and, with their capital city overthrown,
their regular army made captive, their allies dispersed,
their own militia cut up in scattered squadrons, without
being permitted to unite — with the loyalists rising eve
rywhere around them, encouraged by the presence of a
powerful ally, and eager now, and active in due degree
with the apathy and caution which they had hitherto
been compelled to show — it was, perhaps, not surprising
that the whigs of Carolina yielded for a time to fortune,
and lay, perdu, in waiting for a better moment. But
they did not wait long, or without a hope. The ap
proach of the continental army under Gates, however
feeble, once more provoked their activity and stimulated
their enterprise. Already, however, had their own par
tisan leaders — since grown famous — taken the field.
Sumter, Marion, Pickens, and others, had already com
menced that brilliant career which showed the soldiers
ofthe south to be particularly fitted for guerilla warfare ;
and these, with the arrival of Gates, were prepared to
co-operate with him, by demonstrations happily directed
to divert the attention of the enemy, and to distract his
purposes. The very hour of Gates's defeat was distin
guished by a brilliant affair of Sumter, in which, but
for the absence of that caution which is taught alone by
a veteran experience in war, his success would have
Veen complete, and would have made partial amends for
the catastrophe at Camden. Even after that catastrophe
had taken place, it was for Marion to dart out suddenly

WAR IN CAROLINA. 115
from his swamps, in the very moment of the British tri
umph, and to rescue from their clutches a largo body of
their prisoners. These were proofs that the spirit and
enterprise of Carolina were unsubdued by her misfor
tunes, whatever might be her deficiencies of physical
strength. But her contest lay not entirely with the inva
der. Had this been the case, she had probably been
quite equal to her own defence, without needing succor
from her sisters. Unhappily, the causes already men
tioned, raised an army within her own limits, which was
hostile to her independence. Rising in their several dis
tricts, the loyalists took ample vengeance for their pre
vious quiet and forbearance. A civil war raged in the
country, of so desperate a nature, as to lead Greene,
when describing it, to say that the people pursued each
other like wild beasts rather than like men. Such is
usually the character of civil war. The whole state was
thus rendered the arena for unrelenting conflict; and,
preying upon each other with a sleepless ferocity, there
were but few hands to oppose to those of the national
invader. The British looked on grimly, glad of a strug
gle which relieved them from many of the toils of war;
and were content to leave to their auxiliaries, the loyal
ists, the work of massacre, while they quietly possessed
themselves of its fruits. It was not the least of the mer
its of the Carolina partisan generals, that they could de
tach from petty broils, and neighborhood conflict, any
body of citizens, and rally them, with single aim, for the
great busines of national deliverance. That they should
still keep alive the spirit of patriotism, in the midst of
civil war, with a powerful enemy standing by to sustain
the domestic factions by which the movement was op
posed, was in itself conclusive that the state might be
rescued from foreign clutches, with only a respectable
force of regulars, upon which to fall back and rally, and

116 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE,
to which to look for support and succor against any over
whelming efforts of the foe. To have continued the con
flict, by the native militia alone, so long under the walled
places of the British, and with their troops everywhere
in the field, was to afford the most encouraging hopes
that, in the end, the latter must be driven from their con
quests. For such a warfare, perhaps, no general was
better endowed by nature, or prepared by training, than
Greene. Patient, vigilant, collected — never so eager
for success, as to overlook the necessary means for ob
taining it — never so sanguine of victory as to forget the
caprices of fortune, and the uncertain moods which usu
ally mark an untrained soldier — circumspect and cau
tious, in the last degree — he was, perhaps, the best cap
tain in the world to restrain and regulate the raw troops
whbm he, had to manage — to curb their impetuosity,
methodize their valor, and make them habitually provide
against surprise.
Greene did not close his eyes against the difficulties
which now rose up in his path at every moment. He
found himself, on taking command ofthe army, sustained
by few encouragements. The army itself was a skel
eton — the mere wreck of an army — few in numbers,
without clothing, arms, or ammunition. It counted but
nine hundred and seventy continentals, and one thousand
and thirteen militia. This was the force which ho
found awaiting him at Charlotte. There was a smaller
force, but better provided, serving as an independent
command under Morgan, which had been detached by
Gates, and was now actually operating in South Caro
lina, and in the neighborhood of the British garrison
at Camden. This force consisted of four companies,
which had been drafted from the regiments to serve as
light infantry; a body of seventy cavalry, under Colonel
Washington; and a small corps of sixty rifles, under

RELATIVE STRENGTH OF THE ARMIES. 117
Major Rose. We shall have occasion to speak of this
command hereafter. With his army weak and ill pro
vided, Greene found himself among friends who were
too much abashed by ill fortune and inferior means, to
be confident themselves in hope, or to encourage him to
boldness. His enemies, on the other hand, warmed with
continued victories, were flushed with exultation, and
swarming, in the confidence of numbers, on every side.
When he looked toward South Carolina, the region
which he was to penetrate, he found it everywhere over
awed by British garrisons. Its strong points were every
where seized upon and fortified. Lord Cornwallis had
planted himself, with the main body of his army, at
Winnsborough. This post enabled him to complete his
chain of fortified places, " from Georgetown to Augusta,
in a circle, the centre of which would have been about
Beaufort, in South Carolina, equidistant from Charles
ton and Savannah. These posts consisted of George
town, Camden, Winnsborough, Ninety-Six, and Augusta.
Within this circle was an interior chain, at the distance
of about half the radius, consisting of Fort Watson on
the road to Camden, Motte's house and Granby on the
Congaree. Dorchester and Orangeburg, on the road both
to Ninety-Six and Granby, were fortified as posts of
rest and deposite on the line of communication ; as was
Monk's Corner, ot Biggin church, and some other small
posts on that to Camden." These posts were all judi
ciously chosen, at once for procuring supplies, maintain
ing communications, and overawing the country. The
British army was divided among these several places, on
the assumption by Greene ofthe charge ofthe debris of
the southern army. They consisted of something more
than five thousand men, and employed themselves, at all
these posts, in recruiting from the tory settlements — a
business in which they were uncommonly successful.

118 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
Their strength underwent a large increase on the arrival
of Greene, being reinforced by a force of nearly three
thousand men, under General Leslie, who was, in conse
quence, diverted from Virginia to Charleston ; thus pre
senting an overwhelming preponderance of force against
the American general, which it was difficult to meet.
But Greene's mind — calm, equable, well-trained, and
executive — quickly rose to the exigency before it. To
ascertain the wants of his men, and to cast about for the
sources of supply, were joint operations of the same
thought. Clothing, in particular, was the great necessity.
The nakedness of the soldiers was the first impressive
fact that met his eyes. Many of them could not be seen
on parade, and were actually ordered back to their
homes on this account. Of those who did appear, the
ludicrous exhibition of shreds and patches, odds and
ends, of uniforms and old clothes, made a variety, to
which no display of a mock military could, possibly, do
justice. The munitions of war were equally wanting,
and the magazines were as bare as the soldiers. Nor
were there means in the military chest to procure sup
plies, even if they had been within reach of purchase ;
and it was with great difficulty, and only by the most
excellent management, that provisions, from day to day,
were procured for the support of the army. The quar
termaster's department was in quite as bad condition.
Greene's experience in this department enabled him,
readily, to appreciate his deficiencies, though it afforded
him some advantages, perhaps, in suggesting the means
for meeting them. But here, again, the same painful
conflict was to be carried on for months, and possibly
for years, to encounter necessities without resources,
and furnish material without the means ; to live by shifts
and expedients, striving day by day, with an eternal
anxiety, doubtful what the day will bring forth, and igno-

OFFICERS OF THE SOUTHERN ARMY. 119
rant of the sources which shall provide for the exigencies
of the morrow. Without a market, or money with
which to enter it — without the present means for trans
porting supplies — and with an army constantly craving,
and as constantly required to serve in spite of craving,
the genius of the best general in the world might have
succumbed beneath his anxieties, unless supported hy
a generous faith, that hopes everything in a right cause,
and from a steady compliance with the requisitions of
country and duty.
It was fortunate for Greene that he was consoled and
strengthened against these trials and anxieties, by the
support and society of some of the most select and
noble spirits in the army. His officers were tbe picked
men of the country — brave, enterprising, full of expe
dients, resolute, generous, and ardent in their sympathies.
Morgan, famous as a partisan, distinguished at Quebec
and Saratoga; Otho Williams, who had been chiefly
instrumental in saving the wreck of Gates's army; Lee
and Washington, renowned for the spirit and enterprise
which marked their respective characters and commands;
Kosciusko, a chief of European fame, and one of the
best engineers in the service. These, in their several
departments, were scarcely to be equalled ; and, with
Carrington in the quartermaster's, and Davies in the
commissariat department, it may be reasonably sup
posed that everything which might be done by mortal
ability, under like circumstances, must be within the
province of his performance. When, to these aids and
allies, we add the names of such partisan officers, among
the militia, as have never been surpassed — Marion,
Sumter, Pickens, Henderson, and others — we may natu
rally look for achievements, of as much enterprise and
daring as belong to the fortunes of any fighting army
among any people.

120 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
The region of country in which he was to act, required
the very best, and the most various, military capacity.
Unlike the north, it was a region in which the vicissitudes
were equally sudden and extreme. In the north, the
fields of controversy were few ; the chief points of
progress obvious ; the means of communication ready ;
the game always tolerably apparent to the least skilful
strategist. There, the population was dense, and intel
ligence was transmitted with great rapidity. For the
same reason, the means of sustenance were more readily
furnished, and particularly where the military chest was
more amply supplied with the means of payment, than
was the case when the war was transferred to the south.
In most respects, the theatre of action in the latter region
was totally unlike that of the north. Here, the popula
tion was sparsely settled ; the country, in large tracts,
desolate and unproductive ; the roads few ; the forests
unbroken ; the swamps impassable ; the rivers liable to
frequent overflow ; foraging remote and difficult ; intel
ligence slow to arrive; the people nearly equally divided
in opinion — implacable and fierce in their resentments —
always restless, and always suspicious accordingly; and
the circumstances, taken together, of such a sort, as to
leave an army at no moment perfectly secure from a
capital disaster.
It was the peculiar faculty of Greene, to study care
fully the scene of action, and to adopt his policy to its
conditions. His explorations ofthe country were singu
larly searching and thorough. Under his requisitions,
the Dan was surveyed by Carrington, the Yadkin by
General Stevens, and the Catawba by Kosciusko ; and
these surveys, which he thus commanded, are supposed
to be the first which ever revealed, to any extent, the
characteristics of the several rivers. They proved, in
the sequel, of immense importance to the progress of his

DISCIPLINE OF THE ARMY. 121
arms. Magazines were established at the head of the
Catawba, by which he brought the means of sub
sistence more immediately within the line which he
had fixed upon as the base of his operations. He
renewed his entreaties to the authorities of the several
states within his province, urging the necessity of imme
diate supplies, and the most energetic exertions, for the
future. He counselled, in the embodiment of the militia,
that resort should be had to the draught, in preference to
any other form of proceeding ; and, in his letters on this
subject and others, employs a tone, and throws out sug
gestions, which have for their object something beyond the
matters which they immediately discuss. In plain tgrms,
he seeks to prepare the several governments, which he
addresses, for that more decisive exercise of authority
which he, himself, was resolved to adopt in the conduct
of the war. It belonged to the same policy that he
should seasonably begin to enforce that discipline among
his troops, which, though essential to their efficiency,
had yet been, hitherto, disregarded. It had been the
custom of the troops to come and go, almost at pleasure ;
to retire to their homes without leave, and to stay with
out limit. For this offence he assigned the penalty of
death, and rigidly enforced it. The first offender, after
the practice had been forbidden, was made a summary
example, being shot at the head of the army, which was
drawn out to witness the painful spectacle. It was a
terrible lesson, but one rendered necessary by a due
regard to discipline.
From his camp at Charlotte, Greene prepared to draw
nigher to tho scene of moie active operations. The duty
of selecting a camp of watch and repose; where, without
slumbering, the army could yet be tolerably secure ; and
where, without engaging in conflict, they could yet be
kept constantly reminded of the necessity of preparing
6

122 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
for it; — was confided to Kosciusko. The spot was cho
sen at the junction of Hick's creek with the Great Pee
Dee, and here the army arrived on the 26th of December.
On the same day that the army was put under marching
orders for this point, the detachment under Morgan was
ordered to cross the Catawba, and approach the position
of Lord Cornwallis at Winnsborough. Speaking of
his new camp, the object of his movement, and the ad
vantages derived from it, we gather the following sum
mary from Greene himself: " I am here in my camp of
repose, improving the discipline and spirits of my men,
and the opportunity for looking about me. I am well
satisfied with this movement, for it has answered thus
far all the purposes for which I intended it. It makes
the most of my inferior force, for it compels my adversary
to divide his, and holds him in doubt as to his own line of
conduct. He can not leave Morgan behind him to come
at me, or his posts of Ninety-Six and Augusta would be
exposed. And he can not chase Morgan far, or prose
cute his views upon Virginia while I am here with the
whole country open before me. I am as near to Charles
ton as he is, and as near to Hillsborough as I was at Char
lotte ; so that I am in no danger of being cut off from my
reinforcements, while an uncertainty as to my future de
signs has made it necessary to leave a large detachment
of the enemy's late reinforcements in Charleston, and
move the rest up on this side the Wateree. But, although
there is nothing to obstruct my march to Charleston, I
am far from having such a design in contemplation, in
the present relative positions and strength of the two ar
mies. It would be putting it in the power of my enemy
to compel me to fight him. At present my operations
must be in the country where the rivers are fordable, and
to guard against the chance of not being able to choose
my ground. . . . Below the falls [of Pee Dee], all through

CONDITION OF THE COUNTRY. 123
this country, from the Allegany to the seacoast; and from
the Chesapeake to Georgia, the country is champaign,
and presenting no passes that can be held by an inferior
force. The rivers are deep, and their banks covered with
impassable swamps, across which, at long intervals, roads
have been constructed, which afford the only avenues of
retreat. I can not venture to get entangled among the
difficulties they present, until I can turn upon my enemy
and fight him when I please."
Thus, of the objects and advantages of his position.
Hear him now, in the same breath, on the subject of his
condition and resources : " I find the difficulties of sub
sisting an army far beyond all anticipation. Even
here, where the inhabitants are generally well disposed,
they will not gather in their crops from the field, because
depositing their grain in their barns exposes it to be
seized by their friends or burnt by their enemies. It is
hard to stand so much in need of friends, and be com
pelled to subsist ourselves by means so well calculated
to convert friends into enemies. But we have not a shil
ling of money, and must collect subsistence by force, or
disband. I have had an opportunity of learning the force
ofthe loyalists in these states, and the parts ofthe coun
try in which they reside, and their numbers and zeal pre
sent a formidable obstacle to our future measures. On
the other hand, the whig population has been greatly re
duced by the numbers that have fled from the distress
that friends and foes have heaped on them. The enemy
are now recruiting in all parts of this state, and the com
mand of gold, aided by the public distress and loyal feel
ing, has been too successful in promoting the project of
making one conquest the steppihg-stone to another. At
present they are in possession of all the fertile and popu
lous parts of South Carolina, and until circumstances
will admit of my penetrating into the heart of the coun-

124 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE.
try, to meet and fight him, we shall have to operate in a
country that has been exhausted and depopulated by the
swarms of mounted militia that have been impoverishing
rather than defending it. Yet I should feel no appre
hensions for the event, had I a prospect of being sup
ported by a permanent force. But North Carolina has
not a man on foot, and Virginia only a few raw and na
ked troops, and those enlisted for a short time. The fine
troops of Maryland and Delaware, enlisted for the war,
are now reduced, comparatively, to a handful, and Gen
eral Gist gives me no hope of an early reinforcement
from that quarter. North Carolina seems disposed to
assist us, but her councils are so distracted that I can
not hope much from her efforts. The whigs will not
serve unless the tories are compelled, and the tories are
too strong to be driven, or, if forced to take the field, will
run away, desert, or betray us. Virginia, without money
and without credit, I fear can do little more ; and in both
states, militia substitutes are too much in demand to leave
materials for enlisting an army, except for very limited
periods." These extracts will afford a sufficient idea of the kind
and extent of the embarrassments which beset the com
mander of the southern army at his camp of repose.
Here, however, he was now joined by the long-expected
legion of Colonel Lee, from Virginia, a fine body, equally
made up of horse and foot, admirably equipped, of three
hundred men. At the same time, and from the same
quarter, came Colonel Greene, with a body of four hun
dred recruits. A thousand more recruits had been raised
in Virginia, but they could not be sent into the field, from
very nakedness. Those who were sent, though march
ing in the depth of winter, were clad only in summer
garments of the meanest description, and chiefly made
of linen.

. morgan's operations. 125
The arrival of Lee at the camp on the Pee Dee, ena
bled Greene to attempt an expedition which he had con
templated before. This was an enterprise against
Georgetown, one of a series in which the enemy should
be struck at in detail, in which Lee should operate in
conjunction with Marion. The famous partisan had been
busy all the while, in his particular way and province.
Morgan and Marion were in motion about the same time.
The former, not strong enough to attempt the post at
Winnsborough, contented himself with keeping Lord
Cornwallis anxious about its safety, while achieving some
small surprises against the tories in the neighborhood of
Ninety-Six. Marion, having Lee with him, succeeded
measurably in the attempt on Georgetown. The place
was surprised, but, from a failure of proper concert be
tween the assailing .parties, and the want of artillery, it
was not in tlieir power to retain it, or to gather the best
results from the advantages which had been won.
The attempt upon this post, to be followed up by oth
ers, had for its object to divert the attention of the enemy
from Morgan to the danger of his garrisons in the low
country. The surprise of Georgetown was not, accord
ingly, a simple coup de main, but a first step in the pros
ecution of a great plan which should fetter the enterprise
of the British general, distract his regards, and prevent
him from that contemplated march upon Virginia, from
Carolina, which now constituted the leading policy with
Cornwallis. To detain him in North Carolina, until an
army of sufficient strength and discipline could be raised
to encounter him, was the design and desire of Greene.
The measures pursued for this purpose, soon began to
disturb the repose of Cornwallis, and to compel his at
tention to the course of Morgan.
The latter, meanwhile, had taken post on the banks of
the Pacolet, where he was joined by a considerable body

126 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
of the militia of the Carolinas. He had scarcely made
his appearance in the neighborhood before he had an op
portunity of striking at a strong body of loyalists who
had advanced from the Savannah to the Fair Forest. He
sent Colonel Washington, with his cavalry, and a couple
of hundred mounted militia under Colonel M'Call, who,
by rapid riding, came upon them in the neighborhood of
Ninety-Six, and struck at them with such emphasis as to
kill two thirds of their number. The surprise was com
plete, and the punishment sufficiently sanguinary. Avail
ing himself of the fact that his appearance was totally
unexpected in a neighborhood which swarmed with en
emies, and was covered by a strong British post, he suc
ceeded in the attempt to surprise the stockade fort of
General Cunningham, and to scatter the garrison. These
enterprises, almost at his threshold, disquieted Cornwal
lis, whose light troops and cavalry, under Tarleton, were
then unprofitably urging the pursuit of Sumter, after the
battle-field of Blackstocks. Cornwallis felt the evil moral
influences of such audacity on the part of the Americans,
to say nothing of the direct injury to the service, in the
slaughter of auxiliaries and the cutting off of his sup
plies. Tarleton, accordingly, received his orders to
" push Morgan to the utmost." To enable him to do so,
to effectual purpose, Cornwallis divided his forces with
him, intending, while Tarleton either destroyed Morgan,
or drove him out of the state, which he thought most
likely, to move forward rapidly himself, and, throwing
himself across the path of the American general, cut him
off from his place of retreat, and compel him to surren
der. Leslie, meanwhile, with another body of troops,
was to march up the east side of the Catawba, and inter
pose to prevent Greene from doing anything for the sup
port of his brigades.
But, events are not within human calculation. They

TARLETON PURSUES MORGAN. 127
were destined to disappoint the plans of the English
general. Tarleton obeyed the commands of his superior
with due diligence ; and, with his usual celerity, set forth
in pursuit of Morgan. He had with him, in this pursuit,
about eleven hundred men, five hundred of whom con
stituted that founidable legion which had hitherto trav
ersed the country with almost unvarying success. His
field-pieces were served by a detachment of the royal
artillery. Morgan's force did not quite equal this in
numbers, consisting, in all, of nine hundred and seventy
men, of whom six hundred were militia. But these
militia were now somewhat experienced, and they were
under leaders, such as Pickens and M'Call, in whom
they had the utmost confidence, and who knew exactly
how to manage them. Still, the superiority in artillery
and cavalry, was too greatly with Tarleton to render it
prudent to await his encounter ; and, very loath to do
so, Morgan retired at his approach. The pursuit was
commenced on the 12th of January, 1781. Morgan
might have escaped his pursuer ; but he really had no
desire lo do so — was chock full of fight, and only desired
to find for his mood a proper field and fitting opportunity.
In this temper of mind, as may be supposed, it was not
difficult for Tarleton — with whom, hitherto, in the plen
itude of good fortune, it had been only to see to con
quer — " to bring him to the scratch." The American
brigadier awaited his enemy on the banks of the
Thicketty. Believing that Morgan was only solicitous to escape,
and resolved upon the honors of a coup de main, Tarle
ton pushed forward precipitately on the 17th of January,
and came upon the Americans — not in the huiry and
confusion of a flight, but coolly posted, with the break
fast things just removed, and every man ready, refreshed
by a hearty morning meal, and not averse to a very

128 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE.
different encounter. The British were fatigued by a five
hours' march, the troops of Morgan refreshed by a rest of
quite the same duration, to say nothing of the breakfast.
But Tarleton, flattered by frequent successes, and, in some
degree, the spoiled child of fortune, was not the man to
wait. Morgan gave him advantages which, had he been
another sort of enemy, his prudence would have scarcely
yielded. His ground was upon an eminence, gently
ascending for three or four hundred yards, and covered
with an open wood. On the crown of this eminence he
posted the Maryland regulars, nearly three hundred in
number ; in line, on their right, two companies of Vir
ginia militia, and a corps of Georgians : making, in all,
some four hundred and thirty men. This line, which
was the rear, was commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel
Howard. A body of picked Carolina militia, nearly
three hundred in number, commanded by Pickens, was
posted, in open order, some one hundred and fifty yards
in advance of the line of Howard ; and, in front of these,
was another body of militiamen, one hundred and fifty
more, scattered, as riflemen, loosely along the whole front.
These had their particular duties assigned them, suf-
ciently understood in the words that passed among
themselves — " Mark the epaulettes !" and admirably did
they mark them. It was by this process, only, that Mor
gan could equalize the superiority of the enemy, derived
from his greater strength in cavah-y, and the .presence
of his artillery, of which tho Americans had none. The
American reserve, one hundred and fifty in number, con
sisted of Washington's and M'Call's cavalry, and was
posted behind an eminence in the rear of the second
line. Tarleton's attempt to reconnoitre was foiled by the
fatal discharges of the scattered riflemen. His cavalry
advanced, accordingly, and drove them into the first line,

BATTLE OF THE COWPENS. 129
but not until they had taught their enemy to tremble
unaer the keen close aim and destructive fire of their
rifles. Steadily advancing under the fire of his artillery,
Tarleton pressed forward. The militia under Pickens,
commanded to deliver their fire at fifty yards, coolly
awaited the British approach, and obeyed their instruc
tions to the letter. " Here," according to the admission
of an officer in the Maryland line, " the battle was
gained." So terrible a fire as met the advancing enemy,
has seldom been delivered on the field of battle. The
officers, in particular, paid dearly for the epaulettes they
wore ; while a liberal proportion of the troops by whom
they were followed, bit the dust in company with their
gallant leaders. The service done which was required
at their hands — for it was not expected that they should
stand the charge of the bayonet — the militia yielded to
the pressure of the enemy's battle, and left the way open
to the second line. The shouts of the British declared
tlieir confidence in the affair as in a battle already won,
and hurried forward in a degree of disorder, which soon
betrayed the evil consequence, to their ranks, ofthe loss
which they had sustained in officers. The fire of the
second line opened upon them, and staggered them while
they were thus disordered, and, for nearly thirty minutes,
it was maintained with constancy and serious effect.
Still, the assailing column advanced, striving to dress and
move steadily forward to the charge ; but with so much
hesitation, that the British commander was compelled to
bring the 71st regiment into line upon his left, while
his cavalry swept forward against the American right.
Morgan perceived the necessity of guarding his flank.
But his reserve, under Washington, was already busy in
covering the retreating militia, who, pursued by the
enemy's horse, and having to traverse the whole front
of the second line, upon which they were ordered to
6*

130 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
rally, were, necessarily, greatly exposed to this danger.
To repulse the assailants, and to cover the militia while
they rallied, was the work of a few moments with
Washington : but, these moments were big with the
issue of the day. A retrograde movement of the con
tinental line, occasioned by a mistake in orders, had
nearly lost the victory so nearly won. The British line,
beholding this retrograde, confounded it with a flight, and
rushed forward with shouts of triumph, as to a victory.
And such it might have been, but for the fact that, in
pursuing the enemy's cavalry some distance beyond
the British line, Washington had found their right
flank entirely exposed to him, and had a fair view of
the confusion prevailing in their ranks. It was at the
lucky moment, when the retrograde movement of the
American line was becoming too much accelerated for
precision, that a messenger from Washington delivered
these few words : " They are coming on like a mob ; give
them a fire, and 1 will charge them." "Face about!"
was the instant order along the line. " Give them a
single fire, and the victory is ours." Pickens, with his
militia, appeared on the hill at this moment, to unite in
effectual obedience to this command. It was obeyed
from left to right. With terrible effect did the lightning
stream forth from the levelled muzzles, at the moment
when their enemies, rapidly rushing forward and tumul-
tuously shouting, were within thirty paces only. The
presented bayonet followed up the fire ; and, as the
glittering blades of the opposing ranks were interlocked,
the British dropped their weapons and fell upon their
faces. The victory was won. The rifles of Pickens's
militia, and the sabres of Washington's cavalry, finished
the business of the day; and thus ended the famous
battle of the Cowpens.
The enemy lost one hundred and fifty in killed and

MORGAN VICTORIOUS. 131
wounded, and four hundred prisoners. Of the Ameri
cans, but eleven wore killed and sixty-one wounded.
Morgan retired with two field-pieces, eight hundred
muskets, two stands of colors, thirty-five baggage-wag
ons, tents, and ammunition, and one hundred dragoon
horses — the trophies of his victory.

132 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE.

CHAPTER IX.
Morgan's Retreat hefore Cornwallis. — Greene joins him on the Catawba.
—Condition ofthe American Army.— Militia collects under Davidson. —
British pass the Catawba.— Death of Davidson. — Morgan retreats —
Passes the Yadkin.— Skirmish with the lie arguard.— Anecdote of Greeno.
The victory of Morgan was complete, but it was one
upon which he did not venture to repose. Cornwallis,
he well knew, was in force, at a distance of but tw.enty-
five miles, and this space would easily be overcome by
the fugitive cavalry of the British conveying the tidings
of their own disaster. Reasoning from what should be
done in such case, he had every reason to suppose that
Cornwallis would put his whole army in pursuit. He
halted upon the battle-field, accordingly, only long
enough to refresh his men and secure his prisoners ; and
hurried across Broad river that very evening leaving
Pickens, with a sufficient detachment of his mounted mi
litia, to bury the dead and provide for the wounded.
With the dawn of morning he was again upon the march,
pressing, with all haste, to throw the rising waters ofthe
Catawba between his pursuers and himself. Fortune,
and some unnecessary delays on the part of Cornwallis,
facilitated his objects. Had the latter set off in immedi
ate pursuit, discarding all cumbrous baggage, all unne
cessary materiel, the victory of Morgan, burdened as he
was, with his spoils and pursuers, might have availed him
little. But one or more precious days were lost by the
British commander; and, when he approached the Cataw
ba, he found Morgan already on the opposite side, at a dis
tance of twenty miles, with the river roused by freshets,

CONDITION OF THE ARMY. 133
roaring and swelling, as an obstacle between them.
Greene, meanwhile, apprized ofthe victory of his briga
dier, and apprehensive for his safety — pushed as he had
reason to fearhe wouldbe, by the utmost exertions of Corn
wallis — set out, with all speed, to join him. His efforts
were more successful than those of his enemy. His
celerity of movement alone saved him from the dangers
of a progress through a country, almost equally occu
pied with friends and foes, which he traversed for a
Bpace of nearly a hundred and fifty miles, and almost
without an escort. He had put his army under march
ing orders, but felt too greatly the importance of being
personally at the point of action, at the moment of great
est exigency, to await their movements. His hope was,
not yet to cross weapons with Cornwallis, but simply to
oppose and foil his generalship ; save Morgan, if possible,
and so hang upon the skirts of the enemy, like a threat
ening thunder-cloud, as to paralyze his enterprises until
the moment which should make him ready for the fight.
To cross weapons with Cornwallis now, was quite beyond
his strength. This was the conviction that qualified the
delight which he felt at the recent victory. It was one
of which he could take no advantage ; and he stood, tan
talized with the opening, which, with an adequate army,
would have been offered him by the field of Cowpens, and
the purposeless and unprofitable pursuit of the British.
His nominal force, including that of Morgan and the
militia, did not exceed seventeen hundred men ; while
the strength of Cornwallis, joined by Leslie, must have
considerably exceeded that number. In equipments,
dress, discipline, and munitions of war, the superiority of
the latter was very much greater still. In money, Greene
was still poorer than in men ; not a hard dollar being in
the money-chest, even for the most important necessity
of an army — secret intelligence.

134 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
But, with little to encourage, he was still hopeful.
With the waters of the Catawba roaring between the
two armies, and forbidding the farther pursuit of the
British, he busied himself in recruiting the militia.
With a considerable number of recruits, he might even
venture, when the river subsided, to dispute the passage
with the enemy, and to this labor he addressed himself
with his habitual energy. " It is my only wish to be
upon an equal footing with Lord Cornwallis, and if
I do not give you a good account of him, I will
agree to be subject to your censure." Such was his
language to Washington. Again, he says : " I am
not without hopes of ruining Lord Cornwallis, if he
persists in his mad scheme of pushing through the coun
try." To effect this object, Greene required a well-ap
pointed army of five thousand infantry and eight hundred
or a thousand horse, equipped for active operations.
" Such a force, assisted by the auxiliary aid of the mili
tia, would prove superior, to any force the enemy could
maintain in the field in this quarter." The militia was
forthcoming, but there was no maintenance for them.
" There is," says he, " a great spirit of enterprise pre
vailing among the militia of these southern states ;" but
they fluctuated in their periods of service, going and
coming at pleasure, as well they might do, when they
not only got no pay, but were without clothing or pro
visions. "Early in January, several hundreds of the
troops actually could not appear at drill, or perform
guard duty, for want of clothing." — " More than half out
numbers are, in a manner, naked ; so much so that we
can not put them on the least kind of duty. Indeed,
there is a great number that have not a rag of clothes on
them, except a little piece of blanket, in the Indian form,
around their waists." That men, under such conditions,
should be found in camp at all, is passing wonderful.

GREENE S FORTITUDE AND SKILL. 135
Greene made the most of his resources, and bore up
against his difficulties with exemplary fortitude and skill.
To secure the prisoners taken by Morgan, was a first
object, and, to do this without lessening the numerical
strength of his army, was not less important. They had
been properly sent forward in advance, by Morgan, as
soon as he had effected the passage ofthe Catawba; but
there was still a long journey to perform before a place
could be reached where they would be secure from res
cue. It happened that the term of service of the Vir
ginia militia was nearly out. Greene employed them
during the remaining interval of duty, to take charge of
the prisoners, and conduct them to Virginia. He was
thus enabled to secure his prize without losing the ser
vice of a single man. Orders had previously been given
for effecting a junction, at Salisbury, of his force with
that of Morgan. He had prepared for this junction, col
lected aud camped his provisions, where they lay away
from the contemplated route ; called in his detachments ;
given orders to convey stores and valuable property to
the interior from the seaboard; and, in order the more
securely to provide for the chances of retreat, instructed
his quartermaster-general to form a magazine on the
Roanoke, and hold his boats in readiness for transporta
tion on the Dan. Despatches to the several governors
of the southern states, to supply their several quotas —
to Steuben, to hasten his recruits — and to the mount
aineers along the frontier ranges of the Carolinas and
Virginia, to come forward and renew the glorious exam
ples of courage and patriotism which they had shown at
King's mountain — were among the thousand details
which furnished employment, at this period of exigency,
to his comprehensive and indefatigable mind.
To resume. Greene's exertions to collect a sufficient
body of militia for the defence ofthe passage ofthe Ca-

136 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
tawba, was not successful, and the stream now began to
fall. It was evident that the moment would soon approach
when the British army would begin to move ; and all that
could be done was to retard his passage, and cripple him as
much as possible, while the force of Morgan disappeared.
For this object, General Davidson, with three hundred
mounted riflemen, forming a corps of observation, were
to watch and dispute the passage of the river, while a
similar force, also militia riflemen, were scattered along
the bank, so as to keep eye and aim upon all of the sev
eral fords by which the enemy might attempt to cross.
Greene remained with these, in order to bring them off
as soon as the passage was effected ; while Morgan, at
Beaty's ford, and six miles nearer the place of rendez
vous (which was designated, and on the road to Salisbury,
Bome sixteen miles from the Catawba), was prepared to
march at the first signal. He did so, hastily and in
silence, on the evening of the 31st of January. The
river was now falling quite as rapidly as it had risen ;
no more militia were to be expected, and the British
were preparing to force the passage. After several feints,
and false demonstrations, the better to deceive the Amer
ican riflemen as to the true course which he meant to
take in crossing the Catawba, Cornwallis, at length, at
midnight, on the first of February, approached the ford
called M'Cowan's with the main body of his army. This,
as a private passage, but little frequented, afforded the best
prospect of effecting a surprise of the Americans. While
he attempted the ford in person, he despatched his favor
ite colonels, Webster and Tarleton, with a strong de
tachment, to cross at Beaty's, the ford which Mor
gan had so recently abandoned. Of course, there was
no obstacle to the passage of this detachment, which
reached the opposite banks in safety. Davidson, mean
while, having command of the American riflemen, main-

THE BRITISH TASS THE CATAWBA. 137
tained his station along the banks which commanded the
ford at M'Cowan's. He had not been deceived by the
ruse of the British general, and maintained for him a
vigilant watch, which, but for the choice of the time for
crossing, and an accident which, seeming to threaten, had
ically helped the enemy, would have enabled him to ex
act a heavy toll of blood for the passage. Cornwallis
judiciously chose the night-time to effect his object.
There was no proper employment of the rifle in the
dark; and, in its shadows, the troops were but partially
conscious of the appalling aspect of a stream five hun
dred yards in width, foaming tumultuous over its une
qual bed of rocks, overturning men and horses, sweep
ing the strongest from their feet, and leaving them inca
pable of defence from their assailants, secure and steady
on the river. Their fate must have been inevitable had
the passage been attempted in broad daylight. But Corn
wallis determined wisely. The heads of his columns
entered the river about the dawn of day, but the day
opened in storm and rain, and objects were scarcely
visible except when near at hand. Davidson, knowing
the ford, had posted his men to receive them where they
should approach the eastern bank. Crouching among
the trees and bushes that lined the river, they waited
anxiously for the moment when they should each be able
to select the object for his aim. But, in the darkness and
confusion of the scene, the strife and roar of raging wa
ters, and the dense mists of the falling rain, the guide of
the British lost his way, became alarmed, and finally fled,
leaving the column to make its forward progress as they
could. This saved them. They wandered out of the
track, and, though getting into much deeper water, yet
succeeded in reaching the shore at a point where they had
not been expected, and where no preparations had been
made for them. Davidson was soon apprized of this mis-

138 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
fortune, and proceeded, with all haste, to repair it, by shift
ing his position, and bringing his rifles to bear upon them
in front. His movement was made with equal judgment
and despatch, but, incautiously exposing himself, in the
glare of his own fires, he sunk, mortally wounded, under
a volley from the British platoons. His rifles, however,
were not idle. Wherever they could bring an enemy
within range, they covered him with a fatal finger.
Lieutenant-Colonel Hall, leading the light-infantry of the
British, was among their slain, and Cornwallis himself
had a narrow escape, his horse having been killed under
him. A sharp conflict, which preceded the fall of Da
vidson, was terminated in his death, and leaving the pas
sage free, which they could no longer successfully de
fend, the militia dispersed in search of safety. A small
body of these, not more than a hundred in number,
stopped at a tavern some ten miles from the scene of
conflict, and, supposing themselves safe, prepared to take
refreshment. They had nearly paid dearly for their in
discretion. The approach of Tarleton compelled them
to take to their horses. Fortunately, their videttes gave
the alarm in season, and, accustomed to deliver their fire
on horseback, almost as well as on foot, the Americans
gave him a Parthian reception, shooting as they fled, and
dashed away into forests which he did not think it advi
sable to penetrate. Seven men and twenty horses fell at
this single fire ; which the British colonel avenged in the
wanton massacre of a few old men and boys upon whom
he fell in this expedition, and who neither offered, nor
meditated resistance.
The militia of Davidson dispersed for a time, after the
fall of their general. But seven miles from the tavern
where Tarleton had his encounter with a part of them,
he little knew that Greene with his suite, but without
any other escort, remained in waiting for them. At a

Mrs. Stit-lo (,-ivimr Money to Greene.— Page 13a

INCIDENT OP FEMALE PATRIOTISM. 139
single dash, and with but twenty men, he might have
pounced upon this more important prey. Greene waited
for Davidson and his militia in vain. He lingered till
midnight, before he learned the fate of that brave officer
and the dispersion of his troops. Then, with a heavy
heart, he proceeded to Salisbury, where he anived,
exhausted in body, and humbled and distressed in spir
its. Here it was, that one of those incidents occurred,
of which the revolutionary history in the southern
states can boast so many, in which woman shows her
self not less the angel of patriotism than of charity
and love. As Greene made his appearance at Steele's
tavern, the disordered state of his garments, the stiff
ness of his limbs, the languor of his movements, the
dejection of his mood and manner, became painfully
apparent to every eye. Approaching him, as he alighted-
from his horse, his friend, Dr. Read, addressed him with
inquiries of most anxious solicitude ; to which he replied,
not able to repress his anguish, that he came alone,
exhausted, penniless, and hungry. The reply did not
escape the ears of the excellent landlady. His breakfast
was soon prepared and smoking ; and ho had scarcely
finished it, when she presented herself, closed the door
of the apartment, and, producing a small bag of specie
in each hand, she forced them upon him. " Take them,"
said the noble creature;, "you will need, and I can do
without the money." Never did help come at a better
season. An acquisition so important to the public ser
vice, was not to be rejected through scruples of mere
delicacy; and Greene rose from the breakfast-table, no
longer penniless — no longer succumbing to the condition
which had made him feel himself so utterly alone. The
obligation was afterward repaid. A few words expressed
the gratitude of the American general. He had not
time for more. His friends warned him against the

140 LIFE OP NATI1ANAEL GREENE.
numbers and the hostility of the loyalists of this region,
rendered doubly eager and active in consequence of the
approach of their enemies; and he hurried with all
expedition to rejoin the army, then about to effect the
passage of the Yadkin.
It was now the aim of Lord Cornwallis to repair the
consequences of previous delays, by pushing his adver
sary with all possible rapidity. Once upon the same
side of the river with the Americans, he proceeded to
make a second sacrifice of all unnecessary baggage.
Destroying Jiis wagons, he was enabled to double tho
teams for his artillery, and to mount a considerable body
of infantry. These he joined to his cavalry, which he
pushed forward under General O'Hara. His hope was
now to overtake Morgan, before he could pass the Yad
kin. But Morgan's command, relieved by the mililia
under Davidson, had been greatly refreshed by the halt
made upon the Catawba ; and, having the start of his
eager adversary, and urged forward by Greene, he
pressed on with a celerity, which was rather increased
than lessened, by a heavy rain-storm, which prevailed
through the whole of a day and night. Greene knew
that a sudden and great rise in the river would be the
consequence of this rain, and was anxious to secure the
passage before the occurrence of an event which, if he
could succeed in doing so, would insure his safety, and
enable him to avoid that resort to a last stake, which it
was the policy of the British general to compel. The
latter concentrated all his resources upon the pursuit,
and his troops obeyed his wishes with an alacrity, that
showed how well they knew the importance ofthe prize.
But their labors were again taken in vain. Morgan
reached the Yadkin without having felt his enemy at his
heels ; and, here it was that the provident forethought of
Greene enabled him to reap all the benefits of his rapid

PASSAGE OF THE YADKIN. 141
march. Boats had been collected, by his orders, long
in advance of the necessity which he yet'foresaw ; and
these, ranged along the river at the several crossing-
places, afforded him a quick passage of the Yadkin,
whether his purpose be attack or defence. The infantry
and baggage of the Americans were transported to the
opposite shore without difficulty, and the stream was not
yet sufficiently swollen to keep the cavalry from fording.
Yet, so rapid had been the pursuit of O'Hara, with his
powerful detachment of cavalry and mounted infantry,
that he succeeded in crossing weapons with the Ameri
can rear-guard, which was composed entirely of militia
of the country, before it could throw the river between
itself and the enemy. This guard had been delayed, in
consequence of its being joined by considerable numbers
of the whigs of Salisbury, who, with their families, were
compelled to fly, as a penalty of their patriotism, at the.
approach of the British. The baggage of these fugi
tives proved an incumbrance ; but, though retarding
their progress, it was not the proper policy of the Ameri
can general, looking to the future no less than the pres
ent, to discard it from his protection. The baggage of
the army had been passed ; the army itself was in safety
on the opposite side ; but, before the wagons of the fugi
tives could be got across, the enemy broke upon them.
But the militia stood their ground manfully. It was mid
night, and they were favored by the darkness. A sharp
skirmish ensued, in which both sides claimed the advan
tage. That it belonged to the Americans, is beyond a
doubt, since they gained their object, saved most of the
wagons, and effected their own passage in safety and
without loss ; — a boast which it was not in the power of
the British to assert.
O'Hara chafed vainly, upon one side of the river, at
the security which his enemy enjoyed upon the other.

142 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
A fruitless attempt to seize upon some of the boats of
the Americans, increased his distemper. He was com
pelled to draw bridle and wait for the approach of his
superior. It was not long before Cornwallis, with the
whole British army, appeared on the banks of the
Yadkin. The prospect before him was sufficiently
mortifying. Thus far, his exertions had been taken in
vain. Greene was in possession of all the boats, and
the stream was now beyond its bounds, swollen by the
rains, and no longer fordable. The artillery was brought
up, and long shot were employed to effect a passage
which was not within the power of the soldiery. A
furiotis cannonade was opened upon the American en
campment on the opposite banks ; but it proved an idle
waste of ammunition. The camp was sheltered behind
a rising ground, while the rocks on the margin of the
stream afforded crouching-places of sufficient security
for the sentinels. The British general had all this can
nonading to himself. In Morgan's command there was
no artillery. The two pieces which had been taken at
the Cowpens, placed in wagons, had been hurried on,
with the prisoners, to Virginia. He could, accordingly,
return none of the distant civilities of the British. These
do not seem to have occasioned much disquiet among the
Americans.. It is related of Greene, for example, that he
had taken up his quarters in a little cabin, which was par
tially sheltered by a pile of rocks, a small distance from
the river. Here, while his military family were amusing
themselves in drawing straws, or doing what else they
thought proper to beguile the time, the general was
more busily employed in preparing his despatches. At
length, however, as if the British had guessed his hiding-
place, and were anxious to disturb his occupation, their
cannon were pointed to the cabin, the roof of which,
alone, was apparent to their aim. Very soon the bullets

ANECDOTE OF GREENE. 143
were seen to strike the rocks in the rear, and to skip
about the neighborhood. Soon they travelled nearer
and nearer, until the clapboards of the roof began to fly
in all directions. What emotions these unruly visiters
provoked in the minds of those who were at their inno
cent games of Push-pin and Jack Straw — the aids of
the general — have not been reported ; but Greene, him
self, is described as showing no sort of concern. He
still wrote, heeding nothing but his despatches, and only
turning from them to answer the numerous applications
that were constantly addressed to him. His pen never
rested but at the appearance of some new applicant,
who received his answer, distinguished by equal calm
ness and precision ; the pen of the general being again
set in motion the moment of his departure.

144 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.

CHAPTER X.
Continued Pursuit of the Americans by Cornwallis. — Greene meditates
a Stand at Guilford. — Condition of his Army. — Continues the Retreat
through North Carolina. — Deludes Cornwallis, who pursues a Detach
ment under Williams, while the main Army of the Americans crosses
the River Dan in Security.
The British general, for a time, was nonplused. With
a superior army, in better training and condition, within
striking distance of his enemy, he was yet compelled to
look on, without being able to strike a blow. It was not
merely the interests of his sovereign that suffered by this
involuntary inactivity. His own reputation was seriously
endangered by the position of his affairs. How had his
enemy eluded him 1 How, encumbered with prisoners
and baggage, with a vastly inferior force, had he con
trived to escape the pursuit, which he had every reason
to apprehend would be hotly urged, and which, thus
urged, would, in all probability, have ruined him 1 True,
that, on two occasions, the unexpected rising of the wa
ters had interposed for his safety. But might not Corn
wallis have overtaken him before he reached the Cataw
ba 1 and did not his mounted men and cavalry, a force in
itself almost equal to that commanded by Morgan, actu
ally engage the rear-guard of the latter, on the banks of
the very stream which now opposed itself to his forward
progress 1 History points to the want of forethought,
on the part of Cornwallis, which, unlike the case with
Greene, had failed to provide against the rising of the
waters ; and to the waste of more than forty-eight hours

cornwallis's FORTUNES. 145
in the destruction of his baggage, which a small detach
ment might have been left to break up and consign to
the flames. It is recorded of Greene, that, when he
heard of the pause of tho British army to destroy its
baggage — an act which indicated the determination to
traverse the whole country, if need be, in pursuit — he
rose exultingly, with the prophetic exclamation, " Then
he is ours !" The prediction was verified; not literally,
perhaps, for Greene was not permitted to be "in at the
death" of the game — but verified in the capture of Vork-
town, as a strict result of this insane expedition.
Standing on the banks of the Yadkin, and surveying
the tents of his enemy, secure beyond, there is no doubt
that Cornwallis began to entertain some misgivings of
his policy and fortune. Perhaps his misgivings with re
gard to his policy were only due to the unpromising aspect
of his fortunes. His efforts, whether urged with sufficient
energy and audacity or not, had been fruitless ; and it
was now due to his safety that he should strike a blow,
sufficiently heavy and successful, to do away with the
impression of the brilliant victory at Cowpens. But hi?
mind evidently vacillated between its objects ; the worst
event, perhaps, in the career of a military man. He con
sumed four precious days in deliberation, which should
have been employed in action ; and then resolved un
wisely. There were still two ways of striking at his
enemy. As yet, the junction had not been effected be
tween the two divisions of Greene's army. That under
Morgan has employed our attention, and is now before
us ; but the main body of the army, under General Hu
ger, was in full progress for Guilford. To dart between
these two bodies, and strike them in detail, was the de
sire and final resolution of the British commander. This
resolution, of itself, was not amiss, had it not been too
tardy of adoption ; but it was not till two days after his
7

146 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
arrival at the banks ofthe Yadkin, that he detached par
ties to reconnoitre the country, and to seek other cros
sing-places, nor until the eighth of February, that he at
length passed the river. Yet the river had been falling
on ihe fourth, was fordable the next day, and Greene's
army was in motion, after the halt of a day, the moment
he discovered the subsiding of the stream. The hesita
tion of the British general, betraying doubt and incerti
tude, may have arisen out of his difficulty to decide upon
the division which was most proper to assail. It may
have been the fruit, also, of some vague general appre
hension as to the dangers and exigencies of a long pur
suit, through a waste country, filled with bitter foes and
doubtful friends, when the important object to be gained,
the junction of his force with that of Philips in Virginia,
might be baffled ; in which event, not only must South
Carolina be lost, but he, himself, be destroyed or cap
tured. Whatever may have been his doubts or appre
hensions, they certainly produced such a pause in his
action, as set at peril all that he had hoped from his pre
vious enterprise. Crossing the Yadkin on the 8th, and
resuming the pursuit of Greene, in the hope of cutting
him off from the upper fords of the Dan, he gave him
opportunities and a start which it was not easy to re
cover. Not that Greene's object was simply to elude
and escape his formidable adversary. His purpose was a
more profound one. We find him, for example, halting
Morgan at the Catawba, and resting his jaded troops ;
availing himself of all the respite afforded by the rising
of the river, yet without preparing, in this delay to offer
battle when the enemy should cross. Starting off, when
the passage is about to be effected, we find him keeping
just far enough ahead to beguile the British in pursuit.
Crossing the Yadkin as he had done the Catawba, he
again halts, and coolly surveys his pursuer. Thus he

Greene's policy. 147
rests quietly, until again warned by the falling of the
waters ; and pushing forward for the Dan, again to prac
tise the same game ; beguile his enemy yet deeper into
the heart of the country, where, in the event of a battle,
his resources must be cut off, and where a defeat, or dis
aster of any kind, would leave him hopeless of help, and
at the mercy of the Americans. Cornwallis might well
have hesitated to follow this lure. But he probably did
not suspect Greene of a scheme so profound. It was
one cause of the failure of the British, that they never
learned the lesson, till too late, which teaches them to re
spect an enemy. The pursuit of Cornwallis, and the
retreat of Greene before him, has been entitled " a mili
tary race," and the credit awarded to the two parties
has been limited to the speed with which one of them
fled, and with which the other pursued. The 'subtle pol
icy which governed Greene's movements has but too fre
quently escaped the notice of historians. It is true, that,
assuming it as the cue of the American general to run
only, it somewhat worried them to account for his fre
quent halts. But it was easier to suppose that, in doing so,
he only blundered in carrying out his own policy, than to
admit that there was a something occult in his progress
which they could not altogether fathom. The game of
Greene, a sufficiently delicate one, was to amuse his
enemy — delay his progress — beguile him with hope,
onward and onward, still farther from the base of his op
erations, from all resources, while the country closed in
upon him on all hands, and the militia, springing up
from the soil, hung upon his footsteps, cutting off his sup
plies, and embodying for the final struggle which should
give the coup de grace to his career, as in the case of
Burgoyne.. We must give Cornwallis some credit for a
supposed anticipation of such a fortune. To this, and
other causes not apparent to us, we may probably assign

148 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
that incertitude of conduct which seems to have para
lyzed his energies, and was certainly unfavorable to his
objects. Greene, meanwhile, after remaining a day upon the
banks of the Yadkin — evidently, with the policy which
we have indicated, that of beguiling the enemy still
farther in pursuit — continued his march, and, at length,
planted himself in a secure position, a short distance
from Salem, in the forks of Abbott's creek. Here he
again halted, and watched the movements of his adver
sary. The position was one which not only enabled
him to do this effectually, but served, in some measure,
to distract the judgment of Cornwallis in regard to the
future route which the Americans might take. On that
subject Greene had already decided. He had, from
Salisbury, sent instructions to Huger, with the main
army, to push for Guilford, where he designed to effect
a junction of the two divisions ; his farther purpose be
ing to make a stand, if advisable under the circum
stances, at that place, and if a proper position could be
found for fighting his adversary to advantage. He had
grown somewhat weary of seeming only to be desirous
of eluding his enemy; and there were several causes,
besides, which rendered it advisable that he Should give
him battle. The moral effect of a prolonged retreat
was highly injurious, in a region where the population
was not only greatly divided in sentiment, but where
they had been greatly dispirited by the previous events
if the conflict. Even the brilliant victory at the Cow
pens, though of the most encouraging character, had
failed to make an impression sufficiently deep to exclude
from remembrance the repeated disasters of the strug
gle ; and it was highly important that this impression
should be renewed, if p >ssiblo, at this very juncture,
when the effect of this vii tory was still, though begin-

GREENE MEDITATES BATTLE. 149
ning to subside, tolerably fresh and vivid in the recollec
tions of the people. Besides, Cornwallis had now. been
lured sufficiently far from his resources for the purpose
of the Americans. He had now reached the centre of
North Carolina — was at a great distance from his mag
azines in South Carolina, and quite as remote from the
British army then operating in Virginia. Could he be
brought now to fight, on a field selected by his adver
sary, he must, necessarily, fight under every disadvan
tage. Even a victory would not materially help his
career, could the Americans cripple him in the contest ;
while any success to the latter, even a drawn battle,
would probably result in placing the British army hors
du combat. Short of provisions, with their munitions of
war partially or quite exhausted, and encumbered with
wounded, they must fall an easy prey to the militia, rising
on every hand, under the encouragement afforded by the
prospect of overwhelming the invader. With these cal
culations, Greene was already contemplating the strug
gle for victory, while Cornwallis imagined him only
anxious to elude the strife. We have seen, already,
how industriously he had striven, though with small
success, to rouse up and organize the militia. Contem
plating the approaching trial of strength with his pur
suer, he wrote to the officers of militia in the vicinity of
Guilford, to call out their followers, and appear in all their
strength at that place. Couriers were also despatched to
Hillsborough for the same object, and every preparation
was made for the anticipated encounter. A single day's
march would bring the division of Morgan to Guilford,
and, with advices- that Cornwallis was in motion and
had crossed the Yadkin, this body of troops began their
movement. The junction of the two divisions was
effected on the 9th of February, the army being strength
ened by the arrival of Lee with his legion, who joined

150 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
them on the following day. But the militia did not
appear in numbers at all equal to the public expectation ;
and a review of the American forces, showed them to be
quite inadequate to the struggle with an army so supe
rior in numbers and equipment as that of Cornwallis.
The whole of the force under Greene, of all arms, fit
for duty, was but two thousand and thirty -six ; of these,
but fourteen hundred and twenty-six were regulars.
The army of the British, on the other hand, was known
to consist of nearly, or quite, three thousand men, all
soldiers in the highest state of discipline, and amply pro
vided with the proper clothing and munitions. A coun
cil of war unanimously resolved, that to offer battle to the
enemy, under such a disparity of strength and resources,
would be sheer desperation ; and Greene reluctantly
submitted to the necessity, sufficiently obvious to him
self, of continuing his retreat. Could he have drawn
together an additional force of twelve or fifteen hundred
militia, his resolution would have been to offer battle ;
but the wasting policy which governed the movements
jf the militia — by which, recruited for a short period,
half of their time was consumed in marching to and
from the service — was fatal to their efficiency and the
permanence of an army. The Virginia militia, for exam
ple, had been sent into the field for a tour of duty of
three months ; and, in this brief period, how much of it
remained unconsumed, when, going and returning, they
were required to traverse, without any employment
against the enemy, a space ot six hundred miles] As
fast, therefore, as new supplies of the militia made their
appearance, corresponding numbers -were ready to de
part ; and the consequence was, such a fluctuation in the
strength of the army, as continually to baffle its efficiency,
and to leave it in doubt as to its own numbers. Greene's
disappointment was great as he contemplated the neces-

Greene's manoeuvres. 151
sity of farther retreSt. He had been hoping against
hope. He had baffled pursuit thus far, but it was still
humiliating to be compelled to submit to it; and, even
though he should not be overtaken by his pursuer, it
was to the latter an advantage, next to a viotory, if the
Americans should still be forced to fly. It was not the
least mortifying consciousness of the American general,
that his opponent, penetrating a whig country, was
already lighting his cruel torch in the blaze of burning
cottages. Greene could only sorrow for the sufferers :
he could neither save nor avenge them.
The resolution being taken to continue the retreat,
the American general lost no time in putting it in execu
tion. Cornwallis was still pressing forward, and, on the
10th of February, a space of twenty-five miles, only,
separated the rival armies. The present aim of Greene
was to reach the river Dan, and to place its waters
between him and his pursuers. This stream, which rises
among the mountains of Virginia, soon penetrates the
territory of North Carolina, and, pursuing a sinuous
progress for a while, in the latter state, finally takes its
way back into Virginia. We shall not follow its course.
Enough to say, that, in seasons of freshet, the upper
fords alone are passable without boats. Cornwallis nat
urally supposed that Greene would make for this quar
ter ; and the latter so manoeuvred, in his progress, as to
confirm him in this impression. But the American gen
eral had already determined upon the route to the lower
and deeper crossing-place. Without artillery, and with
an inferior army, the passage, at a point which offered
no interruptions to the pursuit of his enemy, would profit
him little in any endeavor to elude his adversary. Nor
was the route offering by the upper Dan, at all favorable
to the hope which he entertained of reinforcements and
supplies from Virginia. These supplies were of the

152 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
last importance to his future strength and safety, and lie
nuturally sought to increase, by all means, the facilities
for their an-ival. While Cornwallis was manoeuvring
busily, to intercept and arrest him in his flight to the
ujjper Dan, Greene encountered his schemes, with others
admirably calculated to continue him in his error. He
detached from his army a force of seven hundred light
troops, the command of which was assigned to Colonel
Williams. These troops were composed of the vete
rans of the army — those who had fought at Cowpens,
and who were to be relied upon. Unencumbered with
baggage, they could move with the greatest rapidity,
and their commander had his instructions to throw him
self boldly in the path of the enemy. His detachment,
ostensibly a covering force for the retreat of the army,
was, nevertheless, pushed forward in a direction which
confirmed Cornwallis in the conviction, that Greene was
aiming at the upper, or shallow, crossing-places of the
Dan. He little knew that his wary adversary had, with
excellent forethought, provided boats along the river, at
its deepest parts, affording him, at any moment, the
means of passage. One of the first measures of his
career in the south, when he first assumed the command
of the army, was, as we have seen, the exploration of
these rivers, and a meet provision ofthe necessary mate
riel by which to navigate them. It was fortunate, at the
same time, that the agents to whom these duties had
been assigned, had performed them with that secresy
which is one ofthe essential elements of success in war.
The passage of the lower Dan thus provided for, it
brought Greene to the strongest point in his own base
of operat ions, nearer than ever to his sources of supply,
his reinforcements, and the magazines which he had also
established, long before, upon the Roanoke.
The Dan was now the only river which lay between

RELATIONS OF THE OPPOSING ARMIES. 153
Cornwallis and Virginia. To suffer the enemy to pass
this line, and to form a junction with other bodies of his
army, already within and threatening the latter state,
would probably complete the attempted segregation of
tho south from the confederacy. The eyes ofthe nation,
drawn to the conflict in the south by the brilliant and en
couraging affair at the Cowpens, were necessarily fixed
upon the progress of the two armies in the inveterate chase
which had been kept up by the British. Never had the
anxiety of the country been more intense on any occa
sion. For nearly a month, the whole continent seemed
to hang in breathless anticipation, looking momently in
dread of some catastrophe which should end the fate of
the southern army. Fear had finally given place in
some degree to admiration, as the manoeuvres of the
American general had so completely succeeded in baf
fling the wolfish rage of the pursuer. But the drama in
creased in its interest with the continuance ofthe action,
and every moment seemed burdened, in the public feel
ing, with the weight of an empire. The two rival com
manders were fully conscious of this interest, and ofthe
vital importance of the struggle. The junction of the
two divisions of the American army having been effected
at Guilford, Cornwallis made a brief halt at Salem, even
as the tiger draws himself up and seems to contract his
dimensions, as in preparation for the final spring upon
that enemy, who has also nerved himself with his fullest
strength. Everything in their respective fortunes de
pended upon the gain of a march, and each guarded
every movement of his own, and scrutinized all those of
his opponent, by all the eyes which armies are permitted
to employ — scouts, patrols, and spies — which followed
every footstep and reported every conjecture.
A first ruse de guerre of Cornwallis had for its object
to alarm Greene for the safety of his stores at Hillsbor-
7*

154 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
ough. These had been delayed at this place, lacking
proper means of transportation, and were only now un
der way to a place of safety. Hillsborough itself, as the
seat of government, was a place, it was thought, of suffi
cient importance to demand the protection of the Ameri
can army. Its position, on the right of the road to Guil
ford, was directly accessible from Salem. Should Greene
lose ground in this direction, he would be cut off from
the Dan. The first demonstration of Cornwallis was
made on this route. But the American general was not
to be overreached. He adroitly turned the practice of
his adversary against himself. The instant progress of
Williams, with his select detachment, in the direction of
the upper Dan, induced the British general to make a
movement to the left, in the hope of cutting off this
party. The army under Greene, he fondly assumed to
be secure — never dreaming ofthe ferry-boats — and be
lieving that he had them safely in a cut de sac. Williams,
lightly enough equipped for a race, coolly kept in front
of the enemy, always sufficiently near to be confounded
with its own advance. For four days he marched thus,
steadily forward, beguiling the enemy still farther from
his prey. He had with him a force which could be
relied upon in such a progress. His command of the
seven hundred veterans who had fought at Cowpens, had
been strengthened by the legion of Lee, the cavalry of
Washington, and a small select body of militia riflemen,
These were all steady soldiers, ready for the most des
perate service, and Williams, himself a leader of the
most experienced courage, was supported by such gal
lant captains as Howard and Carrington, from whose
fearlessness and talent everything might be expected.
The scheme of Greene was successful. Mistaking
this detachment for the rear-guard of the Americans,
Cornwallis at once cqntracted his extended line of oper-

STRATAGEM OF GREENE. 155
ations, and concentrated all his efforts upon the single
object of overtaking and bringing his enemy to battle.
Greene, meanwhile, was pressing forward in a direct
course for the ferry of the lower Dan. His march was
a painful one, though utterly unmolested. The cold was
intense, and the troops were nearly without shoes or
clothing. Hundreds of the soldiers tracked the ground
with bloody feet, and in a complaint which one of the
American officers utters about this time, we find it sta
ted, that, " as his men were generally barefoot, long
marches had, at length, incapacitated them from march
ing at all." In the corps best equipped, a blanket suf
ficed for four men, and cloaks and overcoats were luxu
ries such as the best provided were not even so presump
tuous as lo dream of. Greene could only sorrow over
the sufferings which he had not the power to alleviate.
His troops were, happily, constant in all their sufferings,
and, with a perfect confidence in their leader, and with
the object of their aim in view, they steadily pressed for
ward, unsinking and unrepining, for four weary days,
until, within a few miles of the river, they yielded to toil
and night, and snatched a brief respite of refreshing sleep.
With the dawn, they resumed their march, and, reaching
the banks of the Dan, deeply rolling between, they found
the boats in readiness. A few hours sufficed to transport
them to the opposite shore. Greene, however, remained
on the southern bank of the river, awaiting the light
troops, while he sent a despatch to inform Williams that
the object for which he had been mystifying Cornwallis
had been gained.
This was on the fifteenth of the month. Williams,
meanwhile, had pursued his game with great dexterity
and spirit. His first movement had brought him directly
in front of his enemy, and drew upon him, as his move
ment was meant to do> all the attention of Cornwallis

156 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
So close and unremitting was now the pursuit of the
British general, that our little band was permitted leisure
for but a single meal per day, and even this was subject
to interruptions which sometimes spoiled the feast, if not
the appetite. So severe was the duty of the night, in
the employment of pickets and patrols, that, but six
hours for sleep in. forty-eight, were all that the American
colonel could possibly allow them. Still they plodded
forward with vast perseverance, through wretched roads,
in wretched weather, cheerfully, under the necessity, and
gratified, as they were conscious that every moment of
tlieir pursuit served to insure the safety of the main
army. It was not simply a race in which they indulged.
They were compelled to maintain a degree of vigilancp
which allowed them no moment for supposing them
selves in security. The enemy's patrols were continu
ally upon their heels, and frequent skirmishes enlivened
the otherwise tedious progress. On one of these, the
enemy suffered a loss of eighteen of Tarleton's troopers,
the Americans losing only a poor boy, a bugler, who was
totally unarmed, and was butchered while he begged
for mercy. Lee, who commanded the rear-guard in this
conflict, would have taken bloody vengeance upon his
murderers, several of whom were taken prisoners in the
subsequent affair, but for the occurrence of an alarm
which compelled his attention to the enemy, while the
prisoners who were thus endangered, were sent forward
to the main body, under Williams, and thus saved from
the sudden wrath of the indignant cavalier. But the
escape ofthe British dragoons from sharp judgment, was
an extremely narrow one.
Thus, pressing forward, with little leisure allowed for
sleep or supper, watching against surprise, and, with an
occasional skirmish with their pursuers, the detachment
of Williams pursued a devious progress toward the Dan.

CLOSE PURSUIT OP WILLIAMS. 157
Four days had now elapsed, while he was engaged in
the business of deluding his pursuer. Assuming that
that there was no longer a sufficient motive for keeping
in front of the enemy, he proceeded to direct his course
at once for the river. Accordingly, he drew off" his
detachment cautiously, seeking the nearest road to the
crossing place at Boyd's ferry. His ruse had been en
tirely successful. So well had he played his game, that
he had completely deceived the British general, who,
until this moment, never doubted that he had the whole
American army in front. With the discovery of his
error, he at once redoubled his efforts to overtake his
foe, and, striking a by-path for this object, found him
self once more in the rear of Williams's detachment.
This sharpened the appetite of the pursuers, and forced
the wary American to the continued employment of all
his vigilance and activity. Cornwallis sought to bring
on a. skirmish,, in order to retard the flight which he did
not seem likely to overtake ; but Williams was not to be
lured from the proper path of safety by any venture,
however specious and alluring. Though frequently within
striking distance, the rear-guard of the one army within
gun-shot ofthe advance ofthe other, the American marks
men were studiously kept from the dangerous impulse
which prompted them to use their rifles, though at the
risk of bringing on an unequal general action. The
stem voice of discipline prevailed to subdue the temper
of the Americans for fight, and they sped forward,
threatened, wherever their progress was temporarily
checked by obstacles of road or river, by the fierce
demonstrations of the enemy. But the collision was
eluded ; the retreating force maintained its advance ;
and thus, step by step, the British still pressing on their
heels, the chase was continued, through storm and snow
— through roads, saturated with water, chill with damp,

158 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
or frozen by cold. Many weary miles yet lay between
ihem and their point of destination, when the night set
tled down upon their progress. But, suddenly, they be
held the blaze of numerous fires, which they at once felt
sure were those of Greene's army. The first impulse
was to wheel about upon their pursuers, and, at every
hazard, engage them in desperate conflict, in order to
save the division of the army which they fancied to be
thus reposing in delusive security. But a second thought
relieved them of their fear, and saved them from this
desperate necessity. Williams knew his commander too
well to leave him in any doubt as to that prudence which,
had he continued to occupy this position,- would have
been put to shame for ever. He felt sure, as, in the
sequel, it proved, that the fires which he saw blazing
were those which Greene had left to burn when he re
sumed his march. He had put his troops in motion sev
eral hours before, and Williams snatched a brief interval
of rest, which a halt of the British now afforded him, for
sleeping upon the ground which his general had previ
ously occupied.
Here the Americans slept till midnight. The British,
having built their fires also, offered no farther present
molestation. With the midnight, the former were again
in motion. They were still forty miles from the place
of safety, and every moment became precious for secu
rity. The necessity was equally great with Cornwallis.
To suffer his prey to escape him, was to endanger his
own security, and materially to discredit his generalship.
The detachment of Williams was almost within his
grasp, and, not dreaming ofthe boats which Greene had
provided in advance of the necessity, he fondly hoped to
gather both divisions, on this side the Dan, at one fell
swoop of his superior forces. The chase became more
desperate than ever. The energies of both parties were

ESCAPE OF THE AMERICANS. 159
strung to the utmost, a nervous will stimulating exertion
almost beyond the endurance of the physical capacity.
Over ground now hard and frozen, through the imper
fect shadows of the night, pursuer and pursued went
forward on their doubtful way. Day dawned, and the
British van was once more within speaking distance of
the American rear. And thus continued the relation
ship of the two bodies throughout the morning. Ex
haustion craved u. respite. One hour, before noon, was
stolen for refreshment, and the progress was resumed.
Soon, however, the Americans were cheered with the
tidings of Greene's safety, with the army, on the opposite
side of the river. His express encountered Williams, at
noon, with this grateful intelligence. The boats were
in waiting for his detachment; and the prospect of a
long rest and certain security, was at length before them.
It needed but one more effort, and this, with men thus
encouraged, was easily made. They would soon link
arms with their comrades, and this reflection put new
life into their veins. The toils already overcome were
all forgotten, in the repose which was promised them at
last. When within fifteen miles of the Dan, a move
ment was made by which the greater part of the de
tachment was drawn off, and led, by the shortest path
way, to the ferry. The legion of Lee, meanwhile, keep
ing in front of the enemy, and occupying his. attention.
The infantry of the legion next followed the march of
Williams, leaving the cavalry between them and the
foe ; and the cavalry, in due season, made their appear
ance at the river, which had now been passed by all the
foot. Night was already over the Dan, when the troop
ers, leading their horses by the rein, and forcing them
into the river, entered the returning boats. They, too,
were crossed over in safety, their last files ascending
the northern bank of the Dan as the advance of the

160 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
British rushed into sight upon the southern. The prey
had entirely escaped them. The river was unfordable;
the boats were in the hands of the Americans ; and, for
the present, pursuit was entirely cut off.

THE RIVAL ARMIES. 161

CHAPTER XL
The Annies watch each other. — The Militia collect nnder Pickens and
Caswell. — Cornwallis retires upon Hillsborough. — Greene recrosses the
Dan. — Pickens and Lee operate successfully upon the British Detnch-
ments. — Sanguinary Defeat of Loyalists nnder Pyles, and Pursuit of
Tarleton. The feelings with which Cornwallis contemplated the
American army, in safety, upon the opposite banks of the
Dan, and, for the present, totally unapproachable, may
be better imagined than described. Without a blow be
ing struck, Greene had gained a most important victory;
and the reputation of the British general, and the cause
in which he was engaged, was destined to suffer propor
tionally. The remarkable chase and escape which we
have just recorded, was one of the most impressive of
tbe incidents of the war. It had riveted the attention of
both friends and foes, from the moment of its beginning,
on the southern side of tbe Catawba, to the time when it
ended by throwing the swollen waters of the Dan between
the opposing armies. The public mind of America,
sensible of the condition of Greene's army, its poverty
in clothing and munitions, its inferior, numbers, and the
vast stake which the country had in its safety, was natu
rally wrought up to a pitch of the most intense and eager
anxiety. It was not expected that Greene should cope
with his enemy at the point of the bayonet. For that,
the wide disparity of strength and equipment, between
the British and Americans, had rendered impossible

102 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
That he should escape defeat and captivity was their
only object ; and, his doing this, under the circumstances,
was to obtain the victory. He had led his little forces
through a perilous extent of country, more than two
hundred miles, in the breaking-up of winter, amid cold,
hunger, and nakedness, over roads saturated with inces
sant rains, and with an eager, enterprising, well-clad
enemy, in superior numbers, closely pressing at his heels.
He had successfully deluded that enemy, and had baffled
the pursuit. There was but one opinion as to his supe
rior generalship. Washington writes: "Your retreat
before Cornwallis is highly applauded by all ranks, and
reflects much honor on your military abilities." Tarle
ton adds to this the testimony of an enemy, when he
says that " every measure of the Americans, during their
march from the Catawba to Virginia, was judiciously
desigued and vigorously executed."
The army, itself, was by no means unconscious of the
importance of their escape, and of the superior general
ship by which it had been effected. Great was the
exultation, and general the felicitation, in the American
camp, on the night of the 15th of February. The sol
dier had a respite from pursuit. He was permitted,
once more, to sleep in security. The separate divisions,
once more united, could while away the weariness of
the night, by comparing their several experiences during
the march ; and, in full feeling ofthe success which had
crowned their efforts, indulge in delightful anticipations
of still more fortunate results, from future enterprises,
waged under circumstances more auspicious. But, the
care which they could mock, clung still to the side of
their commander, and drove sleep from his pillow. We
have numerous proofs, in the letters which he wrote this
night, while others slept, of a spirit ill at ease — a mind
unsatisfied, amid all its successes, that so much remained

GREENE S LABORS AND POLICY. 1 "i3
undone, which should be done, but, for the performance
of which, no adequate means had been allowed him.
The army was saved, it was true ; but, another southern
state had been yielded to the ravages of the enemy.
The Fabian system, which Greene pursued no less than
Washington, might save the troops, but at the expense
of the country. The reproach, however, could not be
urged against the general, while the troops did not ap
pear; and, borrowing the words of the great Frederick,
Greene cried aloud, in the bitterness of his soul : " Oh !
that, of the thousand who remain in idleness at home,
I had only a few. hundred with me in the field." The
flames of foreign war were spreading, and he was
permitted only to survey them. To arrest them was the
pregnant necessity before him, and the safety of the
army, was but temporary only. Well might care and
anxiety drive slumber from his eyelids. His toils had
not been less than those of the meanest soldier, and his
respite had been even less. From the day when he had
ridden, almost alone, through a hostile country, from his
own to the camp of Morgan on the Catawba, he had never
once undressed himself for sleep. His slumbers had
been snatched by the wayside — imperfect moments, in
which nature rather yielded to exhaustion, than to a desire
for and satisfaction from repose. The days of halt, which
were accorded to his troops for rest and recreation, were
employed by their commander only in newer toils and
fresher exertions. His correspondence, written at pe
riods thus stolen equally from the saddle and from sleep,
is singularly various, and in proof of a mind that ranged
through all the departments under his care, and suffered
the interests of none to escape his scrutiny. The pres
ent and future condition of the army — the state of the
country, its resources and dangers — the character of
the militia, and its improvement — the commissariat and

164 LIPE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
other departments, — these employed him in unremitted
labors — in continued appeals; now writing to leading
men throughout the nation, now to the governors of the
several states, and now to those who were specially con
nected with the progress of his immediate command.
It is surprising, with what equal comprehensiveness and
circumspection these letters were written. Nothing,
necessary to the detail, is deficient; while the governing
intelligence which presides over the whole, exhibits a
capacity for generalization, which leaves nothing want
ing to thought. Yet, these letters may be said to have
been written in the saddle, amid the continual confusion
and interruptions of the camp, or in those hours of
repose and silence, when sleep would seem to be quite
as necessary to the general as to his troops. His cor
respondence with Patrick Henry, Jefferson, Washington,
Steuben, and others, betrays the most indefatigable pa
tience and industry, mingled with an anxiety which the
stern sense of patriotic duty, alone, enables him to sub
due. He felt that his present respite was temporary;
that the game must be quickly renewed ; that, with the
falling of the waters of the Dan, the British would again
resume the pursuit ; and that he must, once more, adopt
the humiliating necessity of farther flight, unless he could
secure seasonable reinforcements. To this object, then,
he addressed himself; and, consulting all the difficulties
of his situation, calculated, with intense application,. the
problem of chances, in regard to his own and the move
ments of his enemy. With reinforcements, the British
general was almost in his grasp. But, could he rely on
the delusive promises which had been so often, and so
fruitlessly, made him ? He had been fed on promises,
decrees, and resolutions ; and his faith was grievously
shaken in those assurances of Congresses and governors,
which had so frequently held

THE OPPOSING ARMIES. 165
" The word of promise to his ear,
To break it to his hope."
He was told that the Virginians and North-Carolinians
were about to pour in and fill his ranks, and that Steu
ben was hurrying on a body of recruits for the Virginia
regiments ; but days and weeks might elapse before
these could reach headquarters, and the time for ac
tion and successful operations was momentarily escaping
him. The river, on the 16th, it was announced, was
rapidly falling. This added to Greene's perplexities ; it
compelled him to determine quickly. The fords were
numerous at low stages of the water, and a farther
retreat appeared inevitable. In anticipation of this ne
cessity, the baggage of the American army was sent for
ward to Halifax, and orders were given to prepare means
for making good the passage of the river Staunton.
The troops were ordered to hold themselves in readiness
for marching, as soon as the necessity became imperative
for a farther retreat. These arrangements made, the
two armies remained in tranquillity, watching the river
and each other.
It was, to Greene, the most tantalizing thing in the
world, that, with the British fairly in his clutches, he had
not the power to contract his folds upon them. The
situation of Cornwallis, had the American force been in
the situation to take advantage of it, was perilous in the
extreme. The British general, in his avidity after his
prey, had pursued so far, as to make his advance and
retreat equally hazardous. He had withdrawn himself
to a distance from his garrisons, and was without stores
or magazines. His hope lay in his own audacity, energy,
and the errors of his wily opponent. Greene felt this,
and his watchfulness was redoubled. Still, be had hopes
of something better than being merely able to elude his
pursuer. Could he receive his recruits and supplies in

166 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
season, it might be possible to end the war by the cap
ture of a second British army. But this prospect could
depend only on the reinforcements promised him. Small
as was the force which he had, the severe marches which
he had been compelled to take, had still farther lessened
its numbers, and impaired its efficiency. It was still
winter, and the clothing of his best-c\ad men was suitable
only for the summer. Many were still naked. The
effect of this condition may be seen from the returns of
the Maryland line, one of the noblest bodies of troops
which tho war had seen. With eight hundred and sixty-
one fit for duty, two hundred and seventy-four were in
the hospitals. The whole force in camp, fit for duty, on
the 17th, was but one thousand and seventy-eight infan
try, sixty-four artillery, one hundred and seventy-six
cavalry, legionary infantry one hundred and twelve, and
the militia of Pickens one hundred and fifty in number.
" How is it possible," Greene asks, " for an army circum
stanced like ours, to make head against one organized
and equipped like that of Cornwallis 1"
But the hopes brightened with delay. At the very
moment when Greene was apprehensive that he should
be forced to resume the retreat, he had intelligence of a
considerable increase to the militia force under Pickens.
The latter had succeeded in raising a body of seven hun
dred men, and was now approaching the enemy's left.
General Caswell, at the same time, with another body of
militia, was making a similar demonstration on the
opposite flank of the British. These movements disqui
eted Cornwallis. They no longer left him the option
of pursuit. The atmosphere was not sufficiently friendly
for the health of his troops, and he prepared to change
the air. Greene waited for. this movement only to recross
the river. The waving of a handkerchief from a friendly
female, under cover of the bank, apprized the Americans

BRITISH MARCH TO HILLSBOROUGH. 167
that the British were under march. As soon as this
Bignal was made, the army of Greene was put in motion.
A small detachment of picked men, under Major Bur
net, led the way across the river, and prepared to hang
upon the enemy's skirts and report their movements.
They were followed by Lee, with his legion, whose
instructions were to harass their progress, and snatch
every opportunity for cutting off their pickets and smaller
parties. As yet, the main body of the army did not fol
low. There were reasons why it should remain in
reserve, particularly as the destination of Cornwallis was
still unknown. Apprehensions were felt for the safety of
Halifax, on the Roanoke, a place combining numerous
advantages, of such a character as to determine the
American general to risk a battle in its defence. To
strengthen this position, Kosciuzko had been already
despatched, as an engineer, to superintend the construc
tion of fortifications ; and the eye of Greene was fixed
upon this point, as one which, in the possession of the
enemy, would give him a position which might equally
control the Carolinas and Virginia. To prevent this, at
all hazards, it became important that he should be in a
situation to. fly to the defence of the place at the first
appearance of danger.
But, Cornwallis was not slow in the development of
his game. His encampment on the Dan was broken up
on the 18th of February. At first, his course left it
doubtful whether he meant to cross the river at one of
the upper ferries, in order to continue his attempt upon
the main army of Greene, or to strike a blow at the
militia force of Pickens. As he continued to advance,
the magazines on the Roanoke were supposed to be
threatened. But, soon, all doubts were ended, as he
suddenly wheeled about, turning his back upon the Dan,
and marching, direct, to Hillsborough. Here he planted

168 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
the royal standard, and issued a proclamation to all
good and faithful subjects to repair to it. The region
was, professedly, a loyal one ; and large calculations
might, reasonably, be made upon the alacrity with which
this summons would be obeyed. At first, the prospect
was very encouraging of a large accession to his num
bers. His pursuit of Greene, his presence on the spot
in force, both conspired to stimulate the tories, and de
press and discourage the whigs. Seven companies of
the former were reported, in one day, as in course of
organization. For three days, the promise continued of
this character ; but, suddenly, these hopeful auxiliaries
disappeared, and their absence was sufficiently accounted
for by the tidings that Greene was again on the southern
bank of the Dan, while Pickens and Lee were, already,
engaged in reconnoitring the camp of the British. It
was with increased bitterness that Cornwallis felt his
disappointment and perceived his danger. It was on
this occasion that he wrote to the ministry, that he was
"surrounded by timid friends and inveterate enemies."
It was now his necessity to fight with Green, if possible-
In no other way could he hope to dissipate his dan
gers, and break through the meshes by which he was
environed. The Americans had received accessions of force from
several quarters. He had suffered none of the move
ments of Cornwallis to escape him. At first, supposing
that the British general aimed to escape to the coast by
Wilmington, he determined to throw himself across his
path, and delay his progress, until the final issue could
bo brought about under favorable auspices. " If we can
delay Cornwallis for a day or two," is his language, "he
must be ruined." Pickens and Lee were pushed for
ward with the utmost rapidity — the legion of the latter
being strengthened by a couple of companies of Mary-

PARTISAN MOVEMENTS. 169
landers. They were to hang upon his rear, and harass
him with all their energies ; and better chieftains for
such a purpose could not have been chosen
But Cornwallis was not the soldier to retreat while the
sword could possibly cut asunder the web which sur
rounded him. It was soon ascertained that he was in
no hurry to depart; and Greene's apprehensions were
greatly excited by the reported progress which the British
general was making in the enrolment ofthe tories about
his standard. These tidings contributed to determine
him upon recrossing the Dan. To close around Corn
wallis, to cut off his supplies, prevent a general rising of
the loyalists, and cut them up in detail, before they could
reach the royal army, was the policy of the American
commander. His light troops were everywhere set in
motion for these objects. The disposition of Pickens and
Lee had already brought them within striking distance
of the British camp ; — Otho Williams was again in the
field, with the excellent legion which he had so lately led
in successful retreat; — Stevens, with a thousand volun
teers, had returned from Virginia; — Butler was in mo
tion, with a considerable body of North-Carolinians; —
and a brisk business was soon begun by these separate
detachments, having for their object the clipping of tho
British claws, and such a contraction of their powers, as
to compel their final surrender or annihilation.
It was on the 20th of February that Cornwallis erected
his standard at Hillsborough. On the 23d, Greene re-
crossed the Dan with his whole army. The day before
this, a detachment from Pickens's command, led by
Colonel M'Call, had surprised and can-ied off a British
picket, only two miles from the royal camp. This was
an audacity too great to be endured, and Tarleton was
despatched, with a strong force of horse and foot, to keep
the Americans within bounds, and afford all encourage-
8

170 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
ment to the rising loyalists. Meantime, Pickens had
formed a junction with Lee, and had been advised of
Tarleton's expedition. This was so much grist to their
mill. They determined to have it so. With dawn they
set forth in search ofthe British legion. Tarleton, with
his usual devastating ferocity, had sufficiently traced out
his route for the pursuers. They had but to follow his
trail of fire — the smoking habitations of the whigs
marking, for many miles, his progress. So rapid was tho
pursuit of the Americans, that, by noon, they were within
three miles of the place where Tarleton had stopped to
dine. Unconscious of their proximity, he had moved
away in season, and had passed the Haw at the first conve
nient ford. It was while rapidly pressing forward in the
pursuit, hoping that he might be overtaken before night,
that the path of the Americans was suddenly crossed by
a strong party of tories, under Colonel Pyles. These
were dispersed, but not without great slaughter, in con
sequence of a mistake of the unfortunate tories, who con
founded Lee's with Tarleton's legion, and only com
menced firing at a moment when the effort was fruitless
for defence, and served only to provoke the fury of the
militia. The delay was a serious hinderance to the pur
suit of Tarleton. It brought on darkness. Neverthe
less, Pickens resolved not to rest until he had thrown
himself between the British dragoons and certain detach
ments of whig militia under Colonel Preston and others,
which Tarleton was aiming to cut off. It was fortu
nate that he adopted this resolution, as he succeeded that
night in uniting Preston's and the other bodies of mili
tia with his own force, adding to its strength, and saving
them from the edge of Tarleton's sabre. The force of
Pickens, increased by these auxiliaries, was now very
decidedly superior to that of Tarleton. It consisted of
two hundred and fifty excellent bayonets, three hundred

ATTEMPTS UPON TARLETON. 171
militia marksmen, and the command of Preston, three
hundred more. The cavalry of M'Call and Lee, though
less in numbers than that of Tarleton, was better mount-"
ed, and of far better material. The command of Tarle
ton composed all the cavalry of the British army, two
hundred and fifty infantry, and two pieces of artillery.
Could the Americans but overtake and overcome this
detachment, the army of Cornwallis was at their mercy.
Deprived of his cavalry, and of so large a portion
of his infantry, he must have sought safety in flight;
and the result of such an attempt, in a country swarm
ing with mounted militia, need not be matter of doubt or
speculation. The fate of Cornwallis lay in other hands, however those
of Greene may have paved the way for it. Tarleton, him
self, never dreamed of the enemy that was at his heels.
He had actually drawn up his men at midnight, arrang
ing for the capture of Preston and bis volunteers. But
Cornwallis was more apprehensive, and, consequently
more vigilant. He had received advices of the advance
ofthe American army, and trembled for the fate of the
detachment in the hands of his dragoon. He dreaded
lest another affair like that at the Cowpens should utterly
ruin him, and courier after courier, to the number of
three, was despatched by the British commander in pur
suit of Tarleton, apprizing him of his danger, and recal
ling him instantly to camp. The British colonel obeyed,
and with such equal caution and precipitation, that he
had gained nearly two hours of his march before his
movement was discovered by the scouts of the Ameri
cans. With the first intimation of his departure, Pick
ens was on the alert. His detachment was set in motion,
though at midnight, and the pursuit was instantly begun.
So dark was the night, when this movement was made,
that the troops were obliged to employ torches of light-

172 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
wood (resinous pine) to light them on their progress.
ifet so earnest was the pursuit, that, when the first files
of the Americans reached the banks of the Haw, the
rear-guard of the enemy was just ascending the heights
of the opposite shore. Here the pursuit was arrested.
The British colonel, planting his artillery in a position to
command the ford, and occupying such a position with
his infantry as to give his cannon the best support, ren
dered the passage quite too hazardous to be attempted.
The Americans were without artillery. To attempt the
passage at another ford would be only to afford the
enemy such an advantage in the race as no subsequent
efforts could overcome ; at all events, not before he had
been reinforced by support from the British camp. And
thus it was, that the prey was snatched from the grasp of
the American general almost at the very moment when
his fingers were about to close upon it. But the expe
dition had proved of the greatest uses. The recruits of
the whig militia had been saved from disaster, their friends
had been encouraged, while the tory force under Pyles,
four hundred in number, had been cut to pieces, and the
loyalists disheartened by a disaster so unexpected, and a
punishment so sanguinary.

AMERICAN POLICY. 173

CHAPTER XII.
Strategies of the two Armies. — Cornwallis surrounded by the Partisans.
— Their Activity and Audacity. — He attempts to elude them, and
cut Greene off from his Detachments. — He pursues Williams, who
escapes him. — Cornwallis retires, and Greene prepares for Action.
The operations of Pickens and Lee, though only in
part successful, were yet productive of the happiest
results, particularly in discouraging the loyalists from
taking the field. They afforded, thus, an auspicious
beginning of that new enterprise, on the part ofthe com
mander of the American forces, which had prompted
him to recross the Dan. Greene, meanwhile, lost no
time in making himself ready for the field. Inferior
still, in strength, to his adversary, and sadly wanting in
equipments, he felt the necessity of incumng a risk in
the endeavor to prevent Cornwallis from utterly over
running the " old north state," as he had oven-un South
Carolina. Though not in sufficient strength to measure
weapons with the British general, it was still in his power
to defeat his leading objects, by cutting off his detach
ments, arresting the proceedings of the disaffected, and
giving encouragement, by his activity and presence, to
those who were friendly to the whig cause. For these
purposes, he was particularly well provided in the proper
officers. With Pickens to conduct the militia riflemen ;
with Lee to guide the impetuous movements of the
legion ; with Williams to show himself, ubiquitously,
with his active and veteran light infantry, — he was

174 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
possessed of so many wings, rapidly wheeling at every
movement of the enemy, harassing him in his enterprises,
and keeping him, for ever, in a feverish state of doubt
and insecurity. These able leaders were all kept well-
informed of the desires of their commander. Attended
only by a small escort of Washington's dragoons, Greene
made his way across the country, to the separate camps
of these several detachments, earnestly, but affection
ately, counselling with them on his and tlieir future prog
ress. From the wigwam of green bushes that formed
the shelter of Pickens and Lee, he sped to the camp of
Williams, suffering nothing to escape his observation in
regard to their common enterprise. Hard was the
hourly toil which this sort of progress imposed upon
him and them. Sony were the fare and shelter iri the
forest tent of Pickens ; and the two generals, after long
consultation, wrapped in their cloaks, were compelled to
seek for the necessary warmth, and snatch a brief term
of repose, in the folds of a single blanket. The object
of Greene in this hazardous visit, in which he narrowly
escaped contact with the legion of Tarleton, was to
obtain information, to prepare his partisans for the antici
pated escape of Cornwallis, and to urge them to the
suppression of the loyalists who had appointed the forks
of the Haw and Deep rivers as their place of rendez
vous. But, soon satisfied that Cornwallis no longer con
templated flight — that he had deluded himself with the
idea that the state was fairly in his power — and that
his army would be sufficiently strengthened against the
Americans, by his tory recruits, to enable him to make a
stand, and seek once more the final issue, — Greene saw
that nothing, now, remained to be done, but to prepare
for the decisive struggle. He proceeded, therefore, to
hasten on his reinforcements, occupying, meanwhile,
with the main army, such a position as would best enable

CORNWALLIS SEEKS GREENE. 175
him to cover their concentration, and cut off, the commu
nication of the enemy with the upper country. With
these views, the army, having crossed the Dan, was
marched toward the head-waters of the Haw, on the
route to Guilford. To keep the field between, the Haw
and the Dan, was a matter of some difficulty; but the
very hazard of the service had its recommendation, as it
afforded to the volunteers that active employment and
constant exercise, which can alone satisfy the eager and
impetuous nature, which the unperforming life of the
c:unp would only discourage and disgust. The demon
stration had its uses for other reasons. It encouraged,
with a show of confidence and strength, the more tim
orous friends of the cause throughout the country, and
impressed upon its enemies a sense of respect, which,
necessarily, exaggerated the strength of the Americans,
and made them doubtful of their own. The audacity
and activity of the light troops of Greene's army, under
their accomplished leaders, constituted another guaranty
for his security. We have had a sample of their uses,
in beating up the quarters ofthe enemy, cutting off their
pickets and detachments, preventing their supplies, and
quelling the spirit of their allies. With such partisan
officers, the wings and the eyes of the army, Greene's
own sagacity, and his knowledge of the character of
Cornwallis, enabled him to do the rest. The coolness,
forethought, and circumspection of the one, even with
inferior forces, were well opposed to, and a sufficient
match for, the imperious will, impetuous haste, and san
guine impulse of the other.
As soon as Tarleton had rejoined the royal army,
Cornwallis prepared for active operations. He pene
trated the objects of Greene, and felt the necessity of
counteracting them, if possible. With this view, he
abandoned Hillsborough on the 26th of February, and

176 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
threw himself across the Haw, taking post near Alemance
creek, one of the principal tributaries of that river. This
movement had for its object to cut Greene off from the
upper country, to enable the British troops to cover the
uprising of the loyalists, and to forage in a region, the
resources of which were, comparatively, abundant. The
design was skilfully conceived, and reduced the American
general to three alternatives : he might either offer bat
tle to an antagonist who wished nothing better; once
more retreat across the Dan, and leave the state to the
invader ; or advance still farther on the route, by Guil
ford, toward Salisbury. In other words, the aim of
Cornwallis was to compel his adversary to fly or fight ;
and the policy of Greene was to avoid either necessity.
It was a peculiar game to play, and required all the skill
of the strategist. It was in this department of war that
Greene's particular merit lay. He was thoroughly sen
sible of the truth, that he can be no general whom the
enemy can force to fight at pleasure; and, concentrating
all his resources upon the object before him, a series of
manoeuvres followed, which declared, more impressively
than ever, the extent of his abilities, and the strength and
confidence with which he managed them. To keep
steadily in mind the necessity of covering his own rein
forcements, preventing those of the enemy, and saving
himself from disaster, was the great purpose which
governed every movement in his progress, and counselled
every enterprise.
Cornwallis was not insensible to the merits of his
enemy, and his own necessities. His mind seemed to
rise to the level of his exigencies. His chief object
seems to have been to persuade the attention of the Amer
ican commander in one direction, while he decoyed his
reinforcements within striking distance in another. In
doing this, he had to keep in mind the necessity of never

Greene's strategies. 177
being too remote from his own stores at Wilmington,
which the growing distress of his own army had now
begun to render doubly important to his interests.
Greene, meanwhile, kept even pace with the march of
the British general. Vigilance and activity were his
prevailing dictates. Carefully did he avoid every risk
which might bring on a general action ; and his arrange
ments never, failed to contemplate an open avenue, either
for advance or retleat. He thus armed himself against
every manoeuvre of his enemy ; but no labor could have
been more exhausting, as no game could be more full of
perplexity and doubt. Thus counselled, he pressed for
ward, and crossed the Haw, near its source, and chose
for the scene of operations, the ground which lies be
tween Troublesome creek and Reedy fork.
Here were Greene's headquarters, but he was in no
circumstances to be fettered by an arbitrary choice of
position. His place was changed nightly, and the ca
pricious front which he displayed, served the double
purpose of not only leaving the enemy uncertain of
his position, but of his numbers. His detachments,
strengthened at his own expense, were active in corre
spondence with their strength. His light troops were
continually hovering about the enemy, darting upon his
foraging-parties, cutting off his supplies and intelligence,
beating up his quarters, vexing his march, and exhaust
ing, him, by incessant provocations to fruitless service.
In this occupation, it is difficult to say which of the par
tisans was most conspicuous. Williams, Pickens, Lee,
and Washington, equally distinguished themselves upon
the flanks, and in the front, of the enemy. The former,
maintaining always a proper position for supporting the
detachments, was equally careful to be sufficiently near
to co-operate, when necessary, with the main army.
Joined by Pickens, while manoeuvring in tho vipjnity

178 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
of the. Haw, the two bodies now threw themselves in
front of the enemy, one on each side of the Alemance
creek. Their force, strengthened by large accessions of
militia, had become so considerable, that, on one occa
sion, they seriously meditated a combined attack upon
the British general. Such had been .the. secresy and
celerity of their movements, that he had been utterly
bewildered by them. He could form no idea of their
numbers, and was only conscious of tlieir presence, by
feeling them — in military language — throughout the
night. That these two loaders did not make their
attack, arose from counsels to a delay for a more auspi
cious moment, which, unhappily, did not again occur.
Thus operating, at once in front, flank, and rear,
doubling upon their grounds daily, like a fox, now
approaching and now retiring, but never so far as to
relieve their adversary's detachments from a wholesome
fear of danger, the several divisions of Greene's army
contrived still to keep the region into which he had been
bold enough to penetrate. No will-of-the-wisp ever sport
ed more capriciously with the benighted traveller, than
these partisans with the British general. He knew not
in what quarter to look for the foe, whom, but the last
night, he had felt in this — knew not where to appre
hend the danger to-night, which had threatened him,
equally, on all quarters, the night before. Every source
of intelligence seemed to be cut off. His horizon was
bounded to a span. His cavalry seemed adventurous
no longer. The wondrous energy and success of Tarle
ton were suddenly at an end ; and, as for the anxious
tories, lately as fussy and full of exercise as an over
flowing hive about to send out its swarms, they dreaded
to make the slightest humming, which should declare
their vitality, lest it should waken sharp echoes from the
sabres of Washington, or the fatal rifles of Pickens,

CORNWALLIS S MOVEMENTS. 179
Cornwallis was naturally anxious to relieve himself
of such troublesome attendants. His position was be
coming exceedingly delicate and doubtful. His skill,
though considerable, had hitherto been unavailing. It
was in vain that ho urged the genius of Tarleton into
enterprise. A single brush of that desperate dragqon
with the legion infantry, gave him no encouragement to
press bis fortunes, and suggested additional reasons to
Cornwallis, for an effort of deeper policy, and more
decisive endeavor, than had yet been made. Circum
stances seemed to favor his desires. He had succeeded
in procuring some certain intelligence of these detach
ments of the Americans, whose ubiquitous career had
been so distressing to his forces. Like some great ani
mal, assailed by inferior forces, which only escape his
rage in consequence of their superior agility, he affected
to sleep in his position. For six days he remained
almost quiet on the Alemance, with an occasional dem
onstration on the road to Cross creek. His quiet was
meant to lull the Americans into momentary security :
his demonstrations in the direction of Cross creek, to
divert their attention from his true object. - He almost
succeeded in this ruse. Greene, meanwhile, with the
main army, lay at Boyd's ferry, fifteen miles from the
camp of Cornwallis. Williams was more within his
reach, and, on the night of the 6th of March, lay but a
few miles off, on the left of the enemy. Could the
British general succeed in surprising Williams, or in
darting by him, so as to reach the High Rock ford, in
advance of Greene, then would the latter be most
effectually separated from his detachments, and be com
pelled to leave them to their fate, or hazard his whole
army in a battle, to secure the junction with them.
Suddenly, then, in the hope of achieving this object,
Cornwallis set his army in motion early on the morning

180 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
ofthe 6th. His movements, though unanticipated, were
not wholly unprepared for. He did not succeed in his
surprise of Williams; who, keeping good watch, dis
covered his march when he was yet two miles off, and
instantly set his detachment in motion. His course, like
that of Cornwallis, was for Wetzel's mills, across the
Reedy Fork. Throwing himself in front of his enemy,
he despatched advices to Greene of the threatened dan
ger, and then proceeded to strain every nerve to attain
the pass by wbich alone could he unite his force with
that of his superior. Throwing out light flanking parties,
under Colonels Preston and Campbell, to annoy the ad
vance of the enemy, he succeeded in keeping the start
which he had had at the beginning, and the race continued,
¦ with great spirit, until the passage of the ford, at Wet
zel's mills, was effected. Drawn up on the opposite bank
ofthe stream, they were prepared to dispute the farther
progress of the British, whose advance, under Tarleton,
soon made its appearance, but, awed by the presence of
the American cavalry under Washington and Lee, they
forbore to attempt the passage. The detachment under
Preston engaged the enemy in a smart skirmish, the
advantages of which enured to the Americans. A few
prisoners were taken on both sides. Here, on the east
bank of the Haw river, Williams became informed of
the true purpose of the British general. Greene was
apprized of it in season; and though Cornwallis had
stolen a march on Williams, and- had very adroitly
managed his enterprise, he failed entirely to secure his
prey, when almost within his grasp. A series of well-
concerted movements on the part of Greene, and the
leaders of his detachments, were admirably successful;
and, when the British general reached the point at
which he expected to intercept his adversary — com
pelling him either to abandon his advancing reinforce-

CORNWALLIS FOREGOES PURSUIT. 181
ments, or forcing him to an action in their defence — he
had the mortification to find that the Americans had
gained the opposite bank of the river, where, both
divisions of their army being united, they could safely
oppose his passage across the stream, and be secure of
the junction with their rapidly-approaching reinforce
ments. This was the last contest of skill between the rival
captains. Cornwallis, at length, despaired of outgen-
eralling his antagonist. His only hope, now, lay in
suffering him to accumulate his forces in sufficient
strength to engage boldly in the struggle, where the
arbiter should be the sword. Returning sullenly from
the pursuit, he took post at Bell's mills, on Deep river,
while Greene, in his camp on Troublesome creek, gave
his troops a brief respite, while waiting the arrival of
his Virginia corps and militia. A few days enabled
these to make their appearance, bringing with them
stores and supplies, which were, of all things, most
needed by the suffering army. The North Carolina
militia began to pour in, while detached parties of
militia and volunteers, from time to time, added to the
bulk of the army, so as to swell its numbers to a com
plement of more than four thousand men. With these,
Greene was superior to his adversary. Fifteen hundred
of these troops were regulars. A considerable body
had been well-trained, and had enjoyed much valuable
experience in the field. They were such as could be
relied upon, as well for steadfastness as courage. His
volunteers and militia were by no means wanting in,
resolution and spirit. Their deficiencies lay wholly in
their want of training. Unaccustomed to long endu
rance in the field, to concerted action, to rapid move
ments, and subjection to discipline, their efficiency lay
rather in their quick employment in actual conflict,

182 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
than in the more slow and tedious, but not less impor
tant duties of marching, manoeuvring, and rapid evolu
tion. To employ these sufficiently, who constituted so
large a part of his army — to confirm the spirit of his
troops — to raise that of the people, to respond to the call
of public opinion, which now began loudly to demand a
battle — ¦ Greene prepared to afford his adversary the
opportunity which the latter had appeared so long and so
earnestly to seek. The forces of Cornwallis did not
number more than two thirds of his own ; but they
were all picked soldiers, men of tried courage, of long
experience in the field, and admirable training. In
numbers, Greene was the superior to Cornwallis, but far
his inferior in discipline and equipment ; and the for
mer did not regard the approaching issue with so much
confidence as hope. He was in a measure compelled to
seek the fight. He could expect no more regulars, and
he was to employ and encourage the militia. The
hopes of the British rested upon their loyalist auxili
aries, and these were best quieted by a conflict, in
which, even if successful, the British army should be
greatly crippled and disorganized. A few days devoted
to the drilling of his militia, calling in and dissolving his
detachments, reviewing and concentrating his strength,
and making the other needful preparations, and Greene
advanced to Guilford Courthouse, taking post, on the
14th March, 1781, within twelve miles of the enemy.
To approach within this distance to an enemy is a mili
tary challenge. Its purport was understood ; nor was
Cornwallis unwilling for the encounter. Both armies
accordingly prepai ed themselves for action.

THE FIELD OF GUILFORD. 183

CHAPTER XIII.
Tho Rattle of Guilford. — Its Vicissitudes. — Duel between Colonel Stnart
and Captain Smith. — Slaughter among the Guards. — Retreat of the
Americans. The scene of battle on the present occasion, had long
before attracted the military eye of Greene for this very
purpose. He had noted its susceptibilities, on his first
retreat from the Yadkin to the Dan, particularly for the
employment of irregular troops, in which an undisci
plined militia, with certain advantages derived from the
inequalities of the surface of the field, might success
fully be brought to oppose the steadier onset of a vete
ran enemy. The country was, in fact, little better than
a wilderness. The settlements were few, and the unbro
ken forest spread itself on every hand, leaving but a few
openings here and there, indicative of the mere dawn of
cultivation. The road wound its way between thick
masses of forest and undergrowth. The defile was nar
row ; dense coverts of copse and brush shadowed it on
all hands and with few open intervals ; while the ground,
ascending gradually, with occasional undulations, from
hill to hill, conducted finally to the superior eminence,
which was occupied by the courthouse. With the
ascent of these hills, the road begins to enlarge and
expand. The brushwood begins to disappear ; open
fields, and small clearings, let in the more frequent light ;
while the fences of the farmer, which the approaching
armies had not yet torn away, were standing in proof of
the humble first beginnings of art, in its conflict with

184 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
nature. These fields were mostly abandoned. A stunted
growth, such as naturally occurs in like cases, had be
gun to appear, but not in such degree as to offer obstruc
tion to the progress of troops in battle. The ascent of
the ground was gradual, sloping gently from the court
house, and subsiding at last, into a rivulet, which wound
its way along the edges of a piece of swamp or bottom
land. The open tracts were divided by a dense mass of
forest, which concealed them from each other. The
space immediately about the courthouse was partly
sheltered by a growth of saplings, which also formed a
partial border for the high-road to Salisbury. Occasional
ravines, which traversed the open grounds, afforded ad
ditional strength to the position, and contributed to rec
ommend the spot to the eye of the American commander.
He had reached the field in sufficient season to examine
and to choose his ground, to arrange the order of battle,
complete his preparations, and give his troops an en
couraging night's rest.
With the dawn of the 15th he was stirring, and full
of anxious expectation. He had no reason to doubt that
he would be sought by his enemy. The day opened
brightly, and with pleasant auspices. The troops were
in the best of spirits ; and Greene, at length, congratu
lated himself on the prospect of a victory, or, at all
events, a struggle, such as should confirm the hope of
his soldiers, and answer the expectations of the country.
His force of regulars and militia-infantry consisted of
four thousand two hundred and forty-three men. Of
these, two thousand seven hundred and fifty-three were
militia. Of his whole army, something less than two
regiments had ever been in battle. It was in this lack
of discipline and experience, among the Americans, that
the inferiority of the British in numbers was more than
equalled. The force under Cornwallis had been rated,

PREPARATIONS FOR BATTLE. 185
and with every apparent probability, at about three
thousand men. It certainly could not have been less
than two thousand five hundred, not including cavalry.
These were all disciplined troops, accustomed to victory,
and doubly urged, at the present time, by their necessi
ties no less than their desires, to seek it with the most
desperate earnestness and valor.
Early in the morning a detachment under Lee, con
sisting of his legion and a body of riflemen, had been
6ent out to reconnoitre. They encountered the British
advance, under Tarleton, and engaged it with spirit and
success. But, feeling that they had to do with the van
of an army, they withdrew to the main body, giving due
notice of the approaching conflict. Greene at once made
his preparations. His officers were soon in station, and
his troops arrayed for battle. His army was drawn out
in three separate lines, presenting so many successive
barriers to the assault of the enemy. The first of these,
consisting of the North Carolina militia, one thousand
in number, under the command of Generals Eaton and
Butler, were placed upon the skirts of a wood at right
angles with the road upon which the enemy was ap
proaching. In front of them stretched a long and nar
row cornfield, whose crumbling fences of rail afforded
rather a show of protection and shelter than any positive
defence. It was supposed that a few rounds might be
delivered under their cover before the defenders were
compelled to retire under the push of the bayonet. The
weapons of this line were mostly rifles. Practised
marksmen, from habitual exercise, it wanted but steadi
ness of nerve to make their bullets tell. Unfortunately,
they had not only never been in battle, but they had
never been subject to the severe mechanism of that drill
and discipline which, in military training, accomplishes
quite as much. In the road, in advance of this line,

186 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
were placed a couple of six-pounders, under Captain
Singleton. On the right of this line, extending behind
the west side of the open fields, obliquely toward a
swamp, was a covering party under Colonel Washing
ton, consisting of Kirkwood's Delawares, eighty in num
ber, and a battalion of two hundred riflemen under Colo
nel Lynch. Washington's cavalry was drawn up in the
woods at a little distance. The left of the line was cov
ered by a party under Colonel Lee, consisting of the
legion-infantry, and a detachment of riflemen under
Colonel Campbell, two hundred and fifty in all. Lee's
cavalry held a corresponding post on the extreme left,
with Washington's on the right.
The second line of the Americans was drawn up
about three hundred yards behind the first, and under
shelter of the woods. This line was formed of Virginia
militia, raw troops also, but they were fortunate in being
led by officers who had been in the continental army, and
possessed considerable experience in the field. The line
was commanded by Generals Stevens and Lawson. The
former, whose experience in militia was considerable, and
who had suffered extreme mortification by their miscon
duct on a previous occasion, adopted astern and sharp rem
edy against their timidity in future. He stationed, in the
rear of his brigade, a line of sentinels, picked men upon
whom he could rely, whose instructions were to shoot
down any individual who broke the ranks. The remedy
has usually been found unfailing against the infirmity it
seeks to cure. This line, as well as the first, crossed and
completely covered the road.
The third and last line of the Americans consisted of
continentals, under the command of Generals Huger and
Williams. It was composed of the brigades of Mary
land and Virginia, the former under Williams, the latter
under Huger. This line was stationed about three hun-

APPROACH OF THE BRITISH. 187
dred yards in the rear of the second ; the Maryland
brigade, on the right, fronting the southwest; the Vir
ginians, in regard to the peculiar formation of the hill,
facing southeastwardly. Between the right of the one
line and the left of the other, the angle was occupied by
two pieces of artillery. The Virginia line consisted of
two regiments, led by Colonels Greene and Rudford;
the Maryland of two also, under Colonels Ford and
Gunby. That of Gunby was the only veteran regi
ment. Two roads, directly in the rear of the Ameri
cans, left avenues for retreat, a necessity which, consid
ering the peculiar objects of General Greene, was not,
certainly, a humiliating one. His game was to cripple
the enemy by his light troops, if possible, and insure their
safety in retreat, by the intervention of his regulars. His
third line was, in fact, his only reserve, and it commanded
both the roads by which to Secure the escape of the
fugitives, in the event of disaster. No doubt the ar
rangement was one of many advantages ; but we are
half inclined to doubt the policy which exposes a militia
wholly inexperienced and untried, to the first shock of
battle, when, the judicious intermixture with them of
select bodies of regulars, would fortify their courage
by example, and sustain them with firmness under
pressure. The appearance of the van of the British army, at
about 1 o'clock in the day, drew upon them the thunders
from Singleton's two pieces in advance. The response
was quickly made by the British artillery, from an
eminence which commanded the road, over the heads of
their own columns. Watching' his opportunity in tho
intervals of the fire, Cornwallis rapidly pushed his sec
tions across the defile, displaying them, as they severally
passed, according to arrangement, under cover of an
intervening wood. The right of the British was com-

188 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
manded by General Leslie, the left by Colonel Webster.
The troops forming the line, consisted of the Hessian
regiment of Boze.the 71st, the 23d, and the 33d regi
ments, in succession. The first battalion of the guards
was drawn up, as a support to that wing in the rear of
the right. The second, with the grenadiers of the same
corps, under Brigadier-General O'Hara, acted as the
support of the left. The Yagers and light infantry of
the guards, when the line was put in motion for the.
assault, attached themselves to the 33d regiment. Tarle
ton's cavalry was held in reserve, and kept pace, under
cover of the wood, with the progress of the artillery,
which could only advance upon the open road.
These aii-angements completed, the British pushed on
to the attack. The first line of North-Carolinians still
wore an aspect of firmness, and their officers began to
exult in the hope that, under the partial cover of the
fence, they would deliver such a fire as would fatally
cripple the enemy in his advance, and possibly effect his
utter discomfiture. But, a few moments sufficed to dis
pel these pleasant anticipations. With the advance of
the British, a scattering fire was began by the militia,
and a single discharge from the whole line may have
been delivered. But the inexperienced woodsmen were
not equal to the terrible shock of battle, when opened
with the earnest pressure of the bayonet. Coming on
with a fierce halloo, an army with banners and a most
gorgeous anay, the British rushed forward in a wild
toi-rent, pouring in their fire as they came, and hastening,
with the most determined resolution, to the close business
with cold steel. The militia were not equal to the trial.
A panic seized upon the line. Those who were fearless,
and would have fought, were isolated in the wild disrup
tion of their ranks, and compelled to obey the necessity
which seemed to hurry them in flight. It was in vain

PANIC OF THE MILITIA. 189
that their officers threw themselves across the path of
the fugitives, and strove by blows, no less than words, to
arrest the torrent. The flood was irresistible. Their
fears, superior to self-rebuke or shame, were not to be
restrained by arguments or threats. Bewildered by their
terrors, they darted through the woods, or sought shelter
in the rear of the second line, which opened, with hisses,
to receive and shelter them.
The British, exulting at this first- advantage, rushed
forward in pursuit, with triumphant shouts, as if secure
of victory. But they were welcomed by crossfires from
the flanking parties of Washington and Lee, which
silenced their clamors, and, for a moment, cooled their
hopes. These flanking parties had witnessed, without
dismay, the sad misconduct of the militia. They kept
their ground steadily, and delivered their fire with a
rapidity and precision, which taught Cornwallis the
necessity of moving with more deliberation to the con
flict. A halt was ordered ; while the regiment of Boze,
half-wheeling to the right, and the 33d, with the light
infantry and Yagers, to the left, addressed themselves, on
each hand, to the business of dispersing the flanking par
ties. Washington and Lee, thus entreated by a superior
force, gradually yielded before the enemy, delivering
steady and sure fires, at every chance, from tree and
thicket, and only giving ground under the pressure of
the bayonet. In thus retiring without losing their order,
these separate bodies were soon brought into a corre
sponding relation with the second line of the Americans,
which they had occupied in regard to the first.
Meanwhile, the British line, which had again closed
for the encounter with the Virginia militia, burried on,
with confidence, to the assault. But the Virginia militia,
uninfluenced by the shameful example of the North-Caro
linians, presented an unbroken front to the assailants.

190 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
Their fire was delivered with equal coolness and pre
cision. Armed, numerously, with the rifle, no single
shot was expended idly, but each bullet had its mission
for a special mark. Wide gaps were soon opened in
the British files by a fire so destructive ; and the faltering
and derangement which followed in the British line, un
der this handling, proved, conclusively, that their doom
must have been inevitable with better behavior on the
part of the American first line. But, the steady valor
of the British prevailed, under the tenacious and trained
spirit of veteran experience. Animated, by their officers,
to the most determined efforts, they continued to press
forward. Then it was, that, under the superior influence
of the British bayonet, Lawson's brigade, on the Ameri
can right, began to yield. But they gave back slowly,
and without losing their coolness or order ; the Ameri
can left, and the British right, becoming, respectively,
the pivots upon which the two lines appeared to revolve.
It was at this moment that Washington, who commanded
the flanking party on the right, following the sweep
which had been made by the right of the American line,
and faithful to the charge of covering it, came out upon
the road. Here, discovering that the retreat of the line
was inevitable in the retreat of Lawson's wing, he sep
arated his infantry from it, and made his way to the
third or continental line, taking post on the right of the
Marylanders. The fight still continued on the left of the
second line of the Americans, which, supported by the
riflemen of Campbell and the legion of Lee, were enabled
to protract the issue, if not to change its character.
The disappearance of Washington, with his detach
ment, from the right wing of the Virginia militia, had
left Colonel Webster free to pursue his progress in this
quarter. Webster was in command of the British left.
He pushed forward, accordingly, until he came in con-

ADMIRABLE CONDUCT OF THE MARYLANDERS. 191
tact with the first regiment of Marylanders, forming the
extreme right of the continental or third line of the
Americans. This regiment wa,a, par excellence, the tenth
legion of the American army. It was the same which,
under Colonel Howard, had crossed bayonets with the
British at Cowpens, compelling them to succumb. It
had a fame to keep and cherish, which was not difficult,
with its almost veteran experience. Commanded by
Colonel Gunby, it was in fit condition to maintain its
laurels. It was an evil hour for Webster that he pushed
forward in this quarter. His approach occasioned no
emotions. The Marylanders were prepared for him,
and coolly awaited his approaches. Their fire was with
held until the British were within proper range, and
then delivered with an effect so fearful as to produce
almost instant discomfiture. Not waiting to note the
effect of their fire, but seemingly assured of what it
should be, the Marylanders followed up their fire, by
descending into the plain and administering the bayonet.
The rout which followed was complete. The British
left was sent off reeling in confusion ; and, had either
of the two squadrons of American cavalry been present,
. the enemy could never have recovered from the disas
ter. Webster, himself grievously wounded, was yet
enabled to draw off his crippled regiment, and, cover
ing them behind a ravine in the cover of the woods,
to wait for succor from his general. Greene did not
dare lo pursue his advantage, having no such confidence
in his remaining regiments as would justify him in a
close grapple, on the plain, with the whole British army,
discarding all the advantages of his position, and relying
on the struggle hand to hand.
It was during the conflict between these two parties,
that the artillery of tbe British, under Lieutenant
M'Leod, had made its way along the road, and at

192 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
length reached the field of action, taking a commanding
position on a rising ground at the edge of the wood.
This was an event of considerable importance in deter
mining the final event.
The battle, meanwhile, was still raging fiercely be
tween the left of the Virginia militia, and the right wing
of the enemy. Stevens, the brave commander of the
former, had been disabled by a severe wound in the
thigh ; but this did not dismay his followers.' Still
using their rifles, with coolness and precision, they were
clinging to the wood, as they retired, and making their
way slowly to the cover of the continental line. Their
rifles, though no match for the British bayonet, were yet
speaking audibly, at every second, to the very hearts of
their assailants ; but they were not now in sufficient
force to render necessary the employment of so large a di
vision of the British army as had engaged them, and leav
ing them to the care of the first battalion of the guards,
and the regiment of Boze, General Leslie drew off the
23d and 71st, and hastened to follow the footsteps of
General O'Hara, who, with the 2d battalion, and grena
diers of the guards, had hurried to interpose between
Webster and the Marylanders. His march brought him
into collision, not with the first regiment of Maryland
ers, whom, we have seen, under Gunby, encountering
the onslaught of Webster with such severe handling,
but, with the second regiment from the same state, un
der Colonel Ford. Here the American general was
doomed to a mortifying disappointment. Ford's regi
ment, uninfluenced by the noble example of Gunby's,
recoiled from a conflict with the splendid line of British
guards that bore down upon them. Their admirable
bearing, and brilliant appearance, imposed too heavily
upon the apprehensions of the Marylanders, and instead
of a brave, manly struggle, they yielded, with scarcely

¦¦'¦ .

CONFLICT OF STUART AND SMITH. 193
an effort, before their foes, breaking entirely, after a
brief trial, and in spite of all the exertions of their offi
cers. This misfortune threw Singleton's two pieces of
artillery into the hands of the enemy ; and they rushed
forward, secure now of victory, with shouts that shook
the field. But their exultation was premature. They
had not noticed the approach of other foes of more stead
iness and spirit than those whom they pursued. Gun
by's approach, with the first Marylanders, had been con
cealed by the copse-wood by which the field was skirted,
and equally silent and unsuspected had been the ap
proach of Washington, with the cavalry of his com
mand. In an instant, the British shouts of victory were
changed to shrieks of death. Wheeling upon the left,
the regiment of Gunby dashed in among the guards,
and a tenible struggle, hand to hand, ensued. The
contest was for life, no less than for victory. Gunby
was wounded, and put hors de combat, his place being
supplied by Howard. Disordered by their own wild
pressure upon the recoiling ranks of Ford's Maryland
ers, the British guards no longer maintained any com
pact order, under the charge of Gunby's. Then it was,
that, while they struggled pell-mell, in all the mazes
of the conflict, Washington's cavalry burst in upon
them from the rear, and threatened their total annihila
tion. A series of individual conflicts followed in this
struggle, some of which find their places in regular his
tory. One of these may well deserve our attention.
The combatants were Colonel Stuart, of the guards,
and Captain John Smith, of the Marylanders. Both of
these champions were distinguished by nerve and
muscle. They had met before, and a personal provo
cation had resulted in the mutual declaration that their
next meeting should end in blood. The present was a
fitting occasion, and they singled each other out, with a
9

194 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
fierce passion for revenge, which made them totally
regardless of tho wild confusion and red horrors of the
melee. Their weapons were at once crossed, with a
desperate fury, which promised but one result. A mo
ment decided the conflict. The adroit pass of Stuart's
smallsword was admirably parried by the left hand of
the American, while with his right, he drove the edge of
his heavy sabre through the head of his enemy, cleaving
him to the very spine. The next moment, he himself
was brought to the ground, stunned, not slain, by the
graze of a pistol-bullet, sent by a devoted follower of
the fallen Briton, who was stricken to the heart, almost
in the same moment, by the bayonet of an American,
who was equally watchful of the safety of his superior.
But the duel between these furious combatants did
not ai-rest the business of the field. That went on, with
increasing animation and interest. The British guards
wore overwhelmed in the struggle. Broken and scat
tered, reeling in confusion and dismay, pressed with
inveterate rage by Howard and Washington, they were
allowed not a moment to recover their organization or
their breath. The crisis of their fate had arrived, and
Cornwallis beheld in it the shadow of his own. He
hastened to the point of danger, the whole field beneath
his eye, covered with his flying guards, and their vindic
tive pursuers. The desperate condition of his fortunes
required one of those desperate remedies, at the em
ployment of which quite as much nerve as judgment
becomes necessary. The stern Briton adopted his reso
lution in an instant. He wheeled from the spot for the
purpose of putting it in execution, and narrowly escaped
captivity or death, at tho hands of Washington. A
petty accident, the falling of his cap, at the momen
when our colonel of cavalry was about to dart upon his
prey, as he rode off, enabled the British general to

SLAUGHTER OF THE GUARDS. 195
escape this danger, of which he was, possibly, at the
time, unconscious.
His care was in another quarter. The necessity be
fore him was a fearful one. His fortunes hung upon a
thread. Tho rout of tho guards was inetriovablo, nnd
must be followed by the worst consequences, if, in the
scattered state of his troops, the fierce onset of the cav
alry under Washington should remain unchecked. He
had no forces in reserve. By this time the whole
strength of the British army had been more or less
engaged in the action. But one dreadful expedient
remained to him, and, hurrying to the hill on which
M'Leod had posted his artillery, he gave the terrible or
der to repel the progress of the American cavalry, by
pouring out torrents of grape upon the field. Mingled
in masses upon the plain, were his own troops with the
Americans. Every storm of bullets swept necessarily
through the ranks of friends and foes. His own guards
must feel the storm as heavily as their adversaries. But
they were already compromised. No remedy could avail
for their safety, and none but this for his own. He gave
the orders. Bleeding with previous wounds, O'Hara ex
postulated with his chief: " It is destroying ourselves."
His remonstrances were made in vain. " True," was the
answer of Cornwallis, " but it is now unavoidable. The
evil is a necessary one, which we must endure if we
would escape destruction." O'Hara turned away from
the cruel spectacle, while the floods of grape tore their
way in frequent tempest over the plain. The expedi
ent was fatally successful. It repelled the American
cavalry. It rescued the victory from their clutches; but
one half of the splendid battalion of the guards was
swept to ruin in the storm.
The battle was not yet over. The conflict still con
tinued between the parties engaged in the woods. For

196 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GltKENE.
the safety of his detachments in this quarter, Greene
felt the greatest anxiety. The British commander, reso
lute on victory as the only source of safety, was newly
forming his line, bent upon the renewal of his endeavors.
Forming under cover of the brush along the roadside,
his operations were greatly concealed from sight; and,
pressing too cautiously forward, for the purpose of dis
covery, Greene incurred as great a peril of captivity or
death as Cornwallis had done but a little while before.
His coolness and presence of mind alone saved him from
a shower of musketry. Occasional volleys were still
heard from the edges of the wood, with now and then a
mutual bellowing from the cannon of the rival forces,
posted on separate heights. The regiment of Boze was
still kept busy in the woods, with the left of the Ameri
can second line. There the riflemen of Campbell, the
infantry of Lee, and the broad-swords of his legion, still
maintained the conflict, firing from every cover, and
retreating only at the approach of the bayonet. In this
kind of warfare the Americans had all the advantage.
They could be driven by their enemies, but not far; and
the moment the halt was made again, it was only to send
forth new volleys of winged bullets, every one of which
had its billet. The British, still advancing, were, never
theless, dropping fast, and Cornwallis ordered Tarleton
with his dragoons, to the succor of the regiment of Boze.
It happened, unfortunately, that Lee's cavalry had been
withdrawn, with some' other object, from the wing of
Campbell's party, when the descent of Tarleton was
made. Had they been present, the fortunes of the day
might have been made triumphantly secure. Unshel
tered by this arm of the service, Campbell's rifles were
compelled to disappear in double-quick time, having
nothing to oppose to the British broad-sword. This,
alone, saved the regiment of Boze, and enabled it to

REVERSE OF THE AMERICANS. 19
recover the British line. With its reappearance, and the
disappearance of Lee's corps, for the fate of which his
anxiety was now painfully awakened, Greene felt that the
chances of the day were about to go against him. The
British troops, though dispirited and greatly thinned, were
yet again in line, and presenting a formidable front. To
oppose them, the mere numbers of Greene might have
been still sufficient ; but how could he rely upon the
regiment of continentals which had so shamefully emula
ted the flight of the North Carolina militia, at the very
brunt of conflict 1 He had too much at stake to peril
his troops unnecessarily in a struggle for which no train
ing had yet prepared them. A drawn battle, for all
moral purposes, would suffice for his objects. The pol
icy of the Americans counselled delay rather than risk.
With every moment of pause, the British army was
losing in numbers, health, confidence, and resources.
Fortunately, Greene had kept his regiment of Virginia
continentals in reserve. With these he could draw off
his troops with safety, the former interposing with un
broken front, to cover the retreat. A reckless courage,
an audacity that would stake all on the hazard of a sin
gle cast of the die, might, with this regiment, sustained
by those who still kept the field, have rendered the affair
a glorious victory. But so, also, might such audacity
have worked the entire ruin of the cause and the com
mander. Such boldness could only be justified by the
desperation ot the case, such aa Cornwallis felt, and by a
perfect confidence in the coolness and steadfastness of the
regiments from which the service was expected. Want
ing this confidence, and feeling no such necessity, Greene
prudently determined not to renew the engagement. He
had gained, perhaps, quite as much, or even more, than
he had anticipated from the trial of strength, in crippling
the enemy, and encouraging his own troops. Both of

198 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
these had resulted from the engagement, in spite of all
its disappointments and vicissitudes.
The order, accordingly, was given to retreat. The
North Carolina and Virginia militia had, by this time,
generally gained the rear of the army, and were on their
way to the designated place of rendezvous. Colonel
Greene, with the Virginia regiment, fresh and entire, was
employed to cover the retreat. With the first indications
of this movement, the enemy advanced, with two regi
ments and a strong body of cavalry. The firing opened on
both sides with great spirit, and was continued for some
time with considerable animation. But the Americans
were too firm, and the British too much crippled, to make
the pursuers eager for the renewal of the conflict. The
pursuit was soon arrested, and, bringing up the rear in
person, Greene made his first halt for several hours,
within three miles'of the field of battle. Here he picked
up his stragglers, arranged for the care of the wounded,
and snatched a momentary rest from fatigue, before resu
ming his march, which he did in a cold and pitiless rain,
reaching his encampment- at the iron-works of Trouble
some creek, about the dawning of the next day.

CONDITION OF THE AMERICANS. 199

CHAPTER XIV.
Oornwnllis retreat? — Is pursued by Greene — Escapes. — His Condition,
and that of tbe Americans. — Greene's Policy. — Discontinues the Par-
suit of Cornwallis — Marches to South Carolina— Appears before Cam
den — and offers Battle to Lord Rawdon.
Thus terminated this long and bloody conflict, the
caprices and vicissitudes of which, for a long while, held
the issue in suspense. But for the miserable failure of
Greene's first line, the victory must have been with the
Americans — as it was, nothing but the superior dis
cipline of the British secured it for them. Cornwallis
was at the head of two thousand troops, as fine as any in
the world. Of Greene's army, not more than five hun
dred had ever seen service. Yet no troops could have
behaved better than a certain portion of his force. The
habitual training of the British, when made to recoil, ena
bled them quickly to recover, and to form themselves anew
for battle. But with Greene's militia the case was other
wise. Defeat was dispersion also. Even the Mary
landers of Ford, though saved from the onset of the
guards by the timely interposition of Gunby and Wash
ington, could not again be*brought to look the enemy in
the face. The steadiness of the infantry of the former,
and the cavalry of the latter, could not have been sur
passed ; and the spirit exhibited by both, united the
audacity of chivalry with the discipline of the regular
soldier. Could Greene have saved his artillery, the loss
of which is not adequately accounted for, he would

200 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE.
probably have had little reason to complain of the results
of the conflict. One fourth of the British army had
been jiut hors du combat in the melee. Most of their
officers were hurt. Cornwallis and Leslie nanowly
escaped, the fonner having had two horses shot under
him, while, at one moment of the struggle, the sabre of
Washington was almost literally brandished over his
head. His gallantry deserves every credit, and was such
as to prove how vitally important to his safety did he
estimate the issues of the day. His loss, in killed,
wounded, and missing, was six hundred and thirty-three.
Of these, one colonel and four commissioned officers
were slain on the field ; Colonel Webster and several
captains died of their wounds ; the recovery of General
O'Hara was, for a long time, doubtful ; Tarleton was
wounded, and a General Howard, who volunteered in
the engagement, besides twenty other commissioned
officers. The Americans were far more fortunate. . Their loss
did not reach half this number — a result attributable,
purely, to the superior excellence of the rifle in their
hands, over the musket in the hands of the British.
General Huger, at the head of the Virginians, was
slightly wounded in the hand ; Major Anderson, an able
officer of the 1st Marylanders, was killed ; General Ste
vens was severely wounded ; and about a dozen other
officers suffered from wounds also. The greater loss of
the Americans consisted in the flight ofthe militia. One
half ofthe North-Carolinians and a large nnmber ofthe
Virginians, when they left the field, continued on their
way, long after the danger was over, and retired to their
homes. The whole force of Greene, reviewed on the
19th, four days after the battle, amounted to three thou
sand one hundred and fifteen, including every descrip
tion of soldier. The trophies which he left in the hands

CONDITION OF CORNWALLIS. 201
of his adversary, consisted of his artillery, a couple of
baggage-wagons, and a portion of his wounded. It is
one of the curious proofs of the doubtful and capri
cious character of the conquest, that he carried off a
greater number of prisoners than he lost.
The victory certainly lay with the British ; but it was
a victory, as was remarked by Fox, in the house of com
mons, like that of Pyn-hus, which left the conqueror
undone : " another such would ruin the British army."
Greene, himself, Upon a survey of the result, was enabled
to make the same estimate. " He has gained his cause,"
said he, speaking of Cornwallis, " but is ruined by its
cost." The British general, himself, was, probably, not
not less satisfied of the justness of this judgment. Re
turning from the fruitless pursuit of the Americans, he
was enabled to review his troops and the field of battle.
The scene presented a spectacle, in open land and woods,
which must have admonished him of the growing peril
which hung about his camp. Nearly seven hundred of
his best troops had been cut off. There they lay, on
every hand, where the rifles of Campbell had dropped
them, step by step, as they camo — where the fierce
charge of Gunby's regiment had swept them down, and
where the flashing sabres of Washington had smitten
them as with an edge of fire. There, too, covering the
broad space before his eyes, were the numerous victims
to his own unsparing artillery, when it became neces
sary, in arresting the cavalry of Washington, to sweep,
with the same besom of death, the scattered and stag
gering guards whom he could no longer save. The
British general, with a drooping spirit, prepared for the
burial of the dead and the care of the wounded. His-
"tory records, to his honor, that he did not discriminate
between friend and foe in the performance of these melr
ancholy duties. Night found him at this gloomy work,
9*

202 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
and the aspect ofthe heavens had become gloomier with
cloud and rain. The chilling gusts of March swept the
field, laden with sleety showers, that added to the sutt'er-
ino-s of the wounded, and increased the cares and anxie-
ties of those who were burdened with the charge of them.
The baggage had not arrived. The soldiers were with
out tents; and, after the dwellings within reach had
received all whom they could shelter, there were still
hundreds, even of the wounded, who were exposed to
all the rigors of the night and season, with no other
cover than the clothes they wore. More than fifty of
these wretched sufferers had perished ere the dawn.
Encumbered with his wounded, with his best officers
slain or incapable from wounds, with the moral of his
army greatly impaired, sunounded by doubtful and
timid friends, or by vindictive and impatient enemies, far
from his resources, and equally uncertain of reinforce
ments, the bai-ren victory of Cornwallis was really a dis
aster of the worst description. He put on a face of the
utmost confidence, while grief and anxiety were heavy
at Jiis heart. His proclamation, issued from his camp at
Guilford, set forth, in glowing colors, the brilliancy and
importance of his recent victory, even at the moment
when he felt that his necessities counselled a retreat. He
summoned the loyalists to his standard, and held out
terms of pardon, to the whigs at the very moment when
his retrograde movements had begun. He could no
longer venture to hunt his enemy. He felt that the
fugitive must soon become the hunter. It was impossi
ble to struggle longer against the difficulties that encom
passed him. When he destroyed his baggage, after the
affair at Cowpens, it was with the full persuasion that
he should be in security in the British camp in Virginia,
or in the richest counties in that state. He was now
almost as far removed from this prospect as before, and

RETREAT OF THE BRITISH.. 203
m less condition to attain it. His numbers were reduced
one half — his men were barefoot — his stores were ex-
nausted — and the enemy was still at hand, threatening
an early renewal of the conflict — that enemy whom he
had found it impossible to conquer, and whom he could
no longer venture to pursue. In a precioitate flight lay
his only means of security.
On the 18th of March, three days after the battle, he
commenced his retreat. His design was covered by
every possible artifice. His boastful proclamation was
intended to disguise his purpose ; and the better to attain
his object, he conveyed his wounded in his wagons and
litters, taking for granted, that, with such incumbrances,
nobody would suspect his purpose of retreat.
But Greene had been too well advised of the condi
tion of the British army, to leave him in doubt as to the
necessity before his adversary. The excellent spirits of
his own army, officers and men — nowise daunted by the
issue of the late struggle, but proud of the stand which
a portion of them had made, and anxious to efface the
discredit and reproach which had fallen upon the whole,
by the misconduct of those who had faltered — all en
couraged the American general to take the initiate in
the future trials of strength with the enemy. With the
first intimation, therefore, of the march of the British,
Lee. was detached to hang upon his rear, and harass his
progress. A deficiency of ammunition, under which
Greene's army at present labored, alone prevented him
from a more decided demonstration with his whole
force. The advance of the Americans hastened the move
ments of Cornwallis. He could no longer pursue his
march at leisure, encumbered with the litters of his
wounded. Seventy of these he left behind, under the
protection of a flag; pursuing a progress which was

204 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
designed to keep his opponent in doubt as to his real
destination and purpose, pressing forward across Deep
river, in the direction of Salisbury. This route, looking
quite as much to a return to South Carolina as to any
other point, might have persuaded any commander, less
wary and sagacious than Greene, to take a direct course
for Camden, in order to intercept his progress to that
place. But, entering into all the calculations of Corn
wallis, Greene was prepared to fathom, or to suspect,
the real purpose of his adversary. A few hours sufficed
to satisfy him of the propriety of his doubts. Recros-
sing Deep river, Cornwallis marched down its east bank,
leaving it no longer uncertain that Wilmington was the
place which he aimed to reach. The light detachments
of the Americans hung upon his skirts, while the whole
force of the army was pressed forward by a nearer road,
which left the British troops but little advantage in point
of distance. The contest was now not only one of
speed, but one of skill — the former, indeed, depending
greatly upon the degree in which the latter should be
shown. In this contest, Cornwallis put forth all his
strength. Greene pressed forward with all the energy
which was possible, in bad roads and inclement weath
er, and, at one moment, when near Buffalo creek, had
hopes of bringing on an engagement, under favorable
circumstances. But a re-examination of his resources
of ammunition, showed such a scanty supply, as greatly
to discountenance the desire ; and the British sped for
ward, without farther interruption than could be sug
gested by the harassing vigilance of picked squadrons at
their heels. This survey of Greene's resources, result
ing so unprofitably, occasioned some delay in the pursuit,
of which Cornwallis took due advantage. Pressing
forward his pioneers, he commenced throwing a bridge,
at Ramsey's mill, across Deep river, near its confluence

ESCAPE OF THE BRITISH. 205
with the Haw. This indicated an intention to cross at
that place, and was calculated to direct the march of
the American army, crossing above him, down the op
posite bank. This left Greene in a dilemma. He saw
that if he pursued this route, the British, having an alter
native, would cross the Haw, and securely descend on
the east side of the Cape Fear. So well planned, in
this proceeding, had been the measures of Cornwallis,
that there was no method of counteracting them. A
movement directly forward, would only force the enemy
across his bridge, which, broken down behind him,
would leave to the Americans no means of passage, but
by fords across the Deep or the Haw, in seeking which,
the loss of time must utterly baffle the pursuit.
For a moment, Greene was compelled to hesitate in
doubt. But twelve miles separated the two armies —
the British at Ramsay's mills, the Americans at Rigdon's
ford, both on Deep river. A day elapsed, in which the
forces lay in patient watch of one another. But Greene
soon reached his conclusion. His only hope lay in a
forced march, and coup de main. He resolved to push
forward his light troops, with orders to engage the
enemy, if possible, and keep them employed until the
army could overtake, and share in the conflict. The
movement was made before day on the morning of the
28th. But the British commander was too wary, and
was too fully conscious of his peril, to be caught nap
ping. He kept himself well informed of all the move
ments of his adversary, and was soon apprized of the
approach of the detachments. His flight was resumed,
and he passed the bridge in safety ; but so hot was the
pursuit, that he had not time to destroy it effectually, to
bury his dead, or carry off his beef, which was found
hanging in the stalls. The light troops of the Americans
were enabled to cross, and continue the pursuit ; while

206 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
the army pressed forward to overtake them, with an
energy and eagerness, under which their sufferings were
immense. Many of them, exerting themselves beyond
their strength, fainted upon the wayside. No halt was
taken for refreshment, but the calls of nature were sus
pended, in an earnest desire to bring the enemy to the
final issue of the sword. What was their mortification,
reaching the mills, to find the prey escaped ! It was
then that they broke down utterly — the stifled necessi
ties under which they had toiled, speaking out, despe
rately, in their disappointment. The volunteers and
militia refused to follow any farther. Exhausted with
toil, wanting provisions, and with their terms of service
long since expired, they demanded their discharge.
This was a surprise to their commander ; but it was one
which he had no power to resist. He could only en
treat, but unsuccessfully; their engagement was really
at an end. The cares of agriculture were at hand, and
their farms summoned them to the performance of du
ties, upon which, indeed, rested the future hope of pro
visioning the army. He was compelled to yield to their
requisitions, and this necessity was fatal to any hope
which he might entertain of overtaking his enemy.
Cornwallis, meanwhile, had passed into a region abound
ing with loyalists, where his resources improved at
every step, and in which he could obtain easy and early
intelligence of every step taken by the Americans.
Greene reluctantly gave up the pursuit.
Fixing his quarters, temporarily, at Ramsey's mills,
in order to recruit his troops, and make his preparations
for future sei-vice, Greene found his situation quite as
mortifying, at this moment, as at any period during the
campaign. He was now, after the discharge of the
militia, numerically inferior to his enemy ; yet he was
now in possession, for the first time, of proofs which

GREENE S POLICY. 207
showed how easy it might bo, with moderate assistance,
to ruin the army of Cornwallis. But he applied for this
assistance in vain. His own army was in a state of ex
treme suffering and prostration. They had scant provis
ions. Lean beef in small quantities, and corn-bread baked
in the ashes, were their chief supplies ; and, not unfre-
quently, the vulture was robbed of his garbage, by the
fierce hunger of the starving soldier. Equally wretched
was the condition of the troops in regard to clothing.
Shoes there were none ; and their garments were such
as remained from long and wearisome marches in wild
countries, through pitiless weather. It was covering,
perhaps, — but not clothing. That they were cheerful
under their privations, was, perhaps, quite as much due
to the influence of their commander, who freely shared
their sufferings, as of that cause and government by
which they seemed to be, almost entirely, disregarded.
Having abandoned the farther pursuit of Cornwallis,
as no longer proper or profitable, the natural inquiry of
Greene was, in what manner he should now employ his
army. Merely to maintain a position of surveillance •
upon the movements of his enemy, was neither agree
able to his own desires, nor of much promise of advan
tage to the objects which he aimed to effect. To achieve
successfully, in conflict with an enemy already in partial
possession of the country, it was necessary to dislodge
him. This required the exercise of constant energies,
and enterprises at once frequent and decisive, by which
his attention would be distracted, and his strength worn
out, in the harassing toils of a watch and defence,
which exhausted his resources without leaving him in
security. We have seen, that, on Greene's first assuming the
command of the southern army, he fixed his eye upon
the numerous posts with which the British had covered

208 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE.
all the vulnerable and commanding portions of that
state. These, in fact, constituted their base of opera
tions. To dispossess them of these, became, naturally,
a first policy of the American general; and a series
of separate enterprises for this object was meditated,
beginning, as we remember, with the attempt to sur
prise Georgetown by Marion — an attempt which was
only partially successful. Circumstances now prompted
Greene to the determination to renew these attempts
and, at once, boldly again to make his way into Soutl
Carolina. There was much to encourage him in thii
purpose. The partisans of that region had not been
idle, while he was engaged in his protracted trial of
skill with Cornwallis. Sumter had been beating up the
British quarters on various occasions, had cut off their
detachments, obtained numerous smaller successes, and,
by his rapidity of movement and continued activity, had
given frequent occasion for disquiet to Lord Rawdon,
whom Cornwallis had left in command behind him
Marion had been equally busy; and Pickens, who had
been detached by Greene, with this object, some time
before, was busily engaged in recruiting the whig militia
for similar uses. The day after the battle of Guilford
Colonel Hampton, another of the famous partisans of
Carolina, arrived at the camp of the Americans with
such tidings as renewed all Greene's anxiety to direct
his steps rapidly upon the enemy's garrisons. His de
cision was accordingly taken. His calculations were
simple and conclusive. If Cornwallis continued his>
progress to Virginia, his posts in South Carolina woul^
be exposed to ruin, one by one ; and if, on the othei
hand, he wheeled about to follow the American army,
.he would be diverted, necessarily, from the conquest of
North Carolina and Virginia, both of which states,
relieved from his presence, would be enabled to concen-

PREPARES TO RETURN TO SOUTH CAROLINA. 209
trate their energies upon the completion of their broken
regiments. In any point of view, the resolution to
carry back the operations of active wai-fare into South
Carolina, seemed to promise results of far greater benefit
than any other proposed plan of future campaign. But,
in deciding upon this measure, General Greene incurred
the greatest of perils — that of offending public opinion.
He was about to depart from the ordinary rules of war
fare. Military men are not often permitted to forego
the pursuit of an enemy, already weakened in conflict,
to direct their efforts against a foe, strongly posted, and,
as yet, unimpaired for resistance by previous struggle.
This, which, in ordinary cases, would seem equally the
impulse of temerity and caprice, was, however, in the
present instance, dictated by considerations of the pro-
foundest policy. Greene's reasons were given at length, at
the time when his resolves were taken, in ample letters
to Washington, Lafayette, and others. He argued, in
addition to what has been already stated, that, by moving
south with his troops, he should be enabled to provide
them with the supplies which must else find their
way to the enemy; that, whether Cornwallis pursued
him or not, North Carolina, at least, — which was para
lyzed by his presence, — would be rescued from his pres
sure ; that the very boldness of his scheme, which seemed
startlingly full of dangers, would have a large effect
upon the public mind, as it would seem to indicate the
possession of resources which were unsuspected by his
adversaries ; and that the necessities of the country, and
the moods of the people, were such as to justify and
render it necessary that some considerable perils should
be incui-red — something, in short, left to fortune, in the
expectation of results which could not accrue from any
mere exercise of patience and circumspection. " The
manoeuvre will be critical and dangerous," was his Ian-

210 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
guage to Washington; . . . "but necessity obliges me
to commit myself to chance." " The troops will be
exposed to every hardship ; but I shall share it with
them." The moment that his determination had been taken,
he sent an express to Jefferson, governor of Virginia, to
forward fifteen hundred militia. Captain Singleton was
despatched to Virginia to procure artillery ; magazines
were ordered to be formed on the banks of the Catawba ;
the partisan generals of South Carolina were apprized of
his designs, and instructed to get the militia under arms
for a series of separate enterprises ; and every means
was put in exercise to secure, in advance, abundant sup
plies of provisions. The route ofthe army lay through
a country, at once sparsely settled and in the hands of
enemies ; and every precaution was necessary against
failure and disappointment. All things being ready, the
camp at Ramsay's mills was broken up on the 7th of
April. The heavy baggage, and all the stores that could
be spared from present use, were sent another route, by
Salisbury, to the head of the Catawba ; while the army,
still seeming to press the pursuit of Cornwallis, crossed
Deep river, and, for a day, continued the direct route to
Wilmington ; then, suddenly taking the first convenient
road to the right, he turned the heads of his columns
in the direction of Camden, South Carolina. His hope
was to surprise this place. He flattered himself, that,
preceding all relief from the army of Cornwallis, his
march would be unknown to, and unsuspected by, Raw
don. But he was disappointed. The distance which
he had to traverse was one hundred and thirty miles.
His progress was unavoidably slow. The country was
sterile and exhausted, and in the hands of enemies. His
every movement was watched and reported. The run
ners of the tories preceded him in his march ; and a

GREENE PENETRATES SOUTH CAROLINA. 211
delay of several days at the Pee Dee, in consequence
of the want of boats for crossing, enabled Rawdon to
receive full advices ofthe danger, and to provide against
it. Greene reached the neighborhood of Camden on
the 19th, and found its gan-ison fully equal to all the
strength he could bring to bear against it. Reconnoi
tring it with the view to assault, he was compelled to
forego the hopeless enterprise. Camden is situated on
a gentle elevation, extending from the swamps along the
Wateree river, to Pine-tree creek. Covered, to the
south and west, by these streams, it was still farther
closed against assault by a chain of redoubts, which
guarded it on every open point, while the defences were
made complete, by strong lines of stockade in the rear
ofthe redoubts. Without battering cannon, any attempt
to subdue it must have been hopeless ; and nothing
remained to Greene but to choose such a position as
might tempt the enemy from his strong-hold. He took
post, accordingly, on a small rising ground, on the
Waxhaw road, within half a mile of the British lines.
But, Rawdon manifesting no disquiet at this challenge,
and no disposition to accept it, Greene retired, with his
army, a mile and a quarter farther, to a place called
Hobkirk's hill, where, with his left covered by a difficult
morass clothed with woods, and his right approaching
an almost impenetrable thicket, he pitched his tents for
the present.

212 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.

CHAPTER XV.
Cornwallis pursues his Route to Virginia. — The Partisan Warfare in
Carolina. — Marion. — Captures Port Watson. — Greene's Movements. —
Rawdon marches out from Camden and gives him Battle. — Battle of
Hobkirk's Hill.
Cornwallis was greatly surprised by the unexpected
march of Greene into South Carolina. The boldness of
the proceeding confounded him, and awakened his seri
ous apprehensions for the safety of British power in that
state. His resolves seem to have been troubled by seri-
hus perplexities. At first, he meditated to follow his
adversary ; and the scheme was full of plausibilities,
which proposed to place the army of Greene between his
own and that of Rawdon. From this, indeed, lay the
greatest danger ofthe American general. But Cornwal
lis paused so long before reaching his conclusion, that it
became evident that Greene was quite too far on his
route to be overtaken. Rawdon must have either tri
umphed, or succumbed to his opponent, before he could
possibly arrive to share in the struggle. To proceed
to Hillsborough, with the hope of drawing off the regards
of Greene, to that point, from South Carolina, was an
other suggestion, which seemed to betray the perplexi
ties of the British commander, occasioned by the move
ments ofthe Americans. On either side were doubt and
difficulty; doubts which no decision seemed likely to
overcome, and difficulties which appeared to increase
the more he examined them. Greene's wisdom, in tho
adoption of his course,was never more strikingly shown

PARTISAN WARFARE IN CAROLINA. 213
than in the trouble and anxiety which it occasioned
to his enemy. The situation of Cornwallis's army waa
such as materially to interfere with his enterprises. It
had been terribly crippled by the affair at Guilford, the
subsequent harassing pursuit, and the exhausting march
es. For three weeks after his arrival at Wilmington, he
was employed in recruiting the strength of his shattered
regiments ; and when he did put his army in motion, it
was to commence the invasion of Virginia, where, fol
lowing the finger of his fate, he was destined, at York-
town, to yield to other hands the laurels, to which, in
some degree, the commander ofthe southern army might
have urged his claim. Leaving him to his fate, which
no longer concerns our progress, we return now to the
field of former and future struggle in South Carolina.
In that state, at no period, had domestic opposition to
the invader been entirely at an end. Crushed for the
moment, her partisans simply held themselves aloof in
shadow, in reserve for the moment when a reasonable
prospect of success might attend the effort at open
struggle. The numerous small enterprises which were
undertaken by Marion and Sumter, with the many
brave officers who followed in their commands, during
the various progresses, already recorded, of the main
army, will not require our enumeration or description
here. Enough, that their effect was such as to cany dis
may everywhere among the settlements of the loyalists.
Marion, in particular, succeeded for a time in breaking
up, almost entirely, the communications between Charles
ton and the army under Rawdon, and by intercepting
detachments and supplies for the several posts across the
country, reduced them to the most serious straits and
exigencies. Greene was by no means insensible to these
services, and in approaching South Carolina, a second
time, he despatched Colonel Lee, with three hundred

214 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
men, to co-operate with Marion, who was at this time
lying, perdu, in consequence of an active pursuit; which
Colonel Watson, with a select and superior force, had
been required by Rawdon to institute after the wary
partisan. Lee nan-owly escaped Watson, who might
easily have prevented his junction with Marion. This,
however, was effected successfully, and the partisan gen
eral lost no time in proceeding to action. His first
demonstration was against Fort Watson, a strong stock
ade fort, raised on an ancient mound near the Santee.
This post was captured, after a short defence. From
this service, Marion turned to that of intercepting the
march of his former pursuer, Colonel Watson, who was
supposed to be making his way with all speed to the
assistance of Rawdon at Camden. It was in aiming at
this object, throwing himself across the path of Watson,
and pressing on, himself, to the neighborhood of Camden,
that Marion contributed to give a new impulse and new
activity to the proceedings of Lord Rawdon. The Brit
ish general was growing uneasy at the augmentation of
the American forces ; and determined to take the risks of
a battle, before they should have been so far increased as
to put the issue beyond all doubt. He was unaware that
Greene had been strengthened by a timely arrival of two
pieces of artillery, one of which, as soon as received, had
been sent to Marion, while two other pieces, sent from
Virginia, reached the camp of the Americans, on the
very day when the British general marched out to give
them battle. Prior to this, some movements which
Greene had made, on the 22d of April, which Rawdon
very naturally construed into an attempt on the part of
the American general to intercept the approach of Wat
son with his reinforcements, contributed to his uneasi
ness, and aided in inducing the determination to precipi
tate the issue. For this, Greene was in perfect readi-

GREENE ATTACKED BY LORD RAWDON. 215
ness. It was an event which he had too eagerly sought,
and too earnestly desired, not to have provided against
with all necessary precautions. The army was encamped
in order of battle. They were held in constant expecta
tion of attack. Patrols ranged all the approaches, pene
trating as near to the town as the forest cover would
permit, and the front of the camp was guarded by double
pickets, against all the points from which danger was
likely to approach. A becoming vigilance guarded
against all danger of surprise.
On the morning of the 25th of April, the day which
Lord Rawdon had selected for the attack, a convoy much
needed and long expected, bringing supplies of artillery
and provisions, made its appearance in the American
camp. The troops were at breakfast, with a keen relish
for the creature comforts so seasonably brought, and
Greene, with his aids was enjoying the unwonted lux
ury of a cup of coffee, when the sound of fire-arms, in
the distance, announced the approach of the enemy. The
men, many of them, were still busy in the more grateful
occupation of dressing their food ; while some washed
their clothes at a neighboring rivulet. With the alarm,
and the roll of the drums which followed, they were
instantly in arms, and but a few moments sufficed to
place them in array for battle. They were in number
nearly or quite equal to the force ofthe enemy, and they
exhibited a cheerful steadiness which gave to their com
mander the most grateful anticipations of the issue. The
whole regular infantry of the Americans, fit for duty at
this moment, was eight hundred and forty-three. The
cavalry under Washington numbered but fifty-six men
who were mounted. The artillery, commanded by Colonel
Harrison, nominally a regiment, did not comprise men
enough to fight three pieces; and the militia force was
but two hundred and fifty. Portions of the American

216 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
force detached, left the strength of Greene very nearly
that of his adversary. That of the British has been esti
mated at nine hundred men. These were chiefly Amer
icans, and mostly first-rate marksmen. Greene's regulars
had seen service also. He had with him the favorite
Maryland regiment of Gunby, which had behaved so gal
lantly at Guilford ; others of his troops had seen service
in the same field ; and all of them wore such an aspect of
coolness as to leave him in no apprehension of the result.
Still, he omitted none of his precautions. His baggage
was despatched to the rear, a distance of several miles,
and nothing was left to hazard, which the exigencies of
battle did not make it necessary to expose.
Hobkirk's hill is a nanow and slight elevation — a
sandy ridge — which separates the head springs of two
small rivulets. The encampment of Greene occupied
this ridge. By his order of battle, the left wing rested
upon the swamp of Pine-tree creek ; the right extended
into the woods, and rested, in military parlance,- in air,
— somewhat protected by the nature of the ground, and
the brush and felled timber which was spread in front.
The high-road to Camden ran through the centre of the
line, dividing the two wings, and was covered by the
artillery, which had been received just in season to be
wheeled into position at the enemy's approach. Igno
rant of this timely arrival, and assuming Greene to be
wholly without artillery, Rawdon brought none — his
forbearance to do 60 enabling him to advance by a
route on which his cannon could not operate. The bet
ter to take advantage of this ignorance, on the part of
the enemy, Greene masked his pieces by closing the two
centre regiments of his line upon the road. His wholo
force enabled him to form a single line only. The two
Virginia regiments under General Huger, occupied the
right of the road ; the two Maryland, under Colonel Wil-

BATTLE OF HOBKIRK'S HILL. 217
liams, the left. The first Virginia, commanded by Colo
nel Campbell, was on the right of the whole ; the second
Maryland, under Lieutenant-Colonel Ford, on the left.
The second Virginia, under Lieutenant-Colonel Hawes,
and the first Maryland, under Colonel Gunby, constitu
ted the centre. Colonel Washington and the small mili
tia force, about two hundred and fifty in number, under
Colonel Reid, were held in the rear, at the foot of the
hill, forming a second line or reserve. ,,
Lord Rawdon's line was composed of the 63d regi
ment on the right, the New York volunteers in the centre,
and the king's American regiment on the left. The
right was supported by tho volunteers of Ireland, the
left by a detachment under Captain Robinson ; a South
Carolina regiment was posted with the cavalry, forming,
with these, nearly one half of his troops, which, accord
ingly, presented a very narrow front. Rawdon had
taken a hint from the Americans, and had employed
flanking parties of loyalists, as riflemen, moving abreast
of his wing among the trees. This judicious anange-
ment served greatly toward giving him the advantage
of the day. His advance was by a route which ren
dered it impossible to announce his approach, except by
the fire of the videttes. These were nearly a mile dis-
tanc from the encampment. The picket guards, under
Morgan and Benson, behaved with great courage and
coolness, gathering in the videttes, retiring deliberately,
and forming in good order under Captain Kirkwood, who
was posted, with the remnant of the Delawares, in an
advanced position on the right. These and the ad
vanced parties maintained the contest with an obstinacy
that afforded ample time to the American army, and a
beautiful example, as they retired, of deliberate and un
shaken valor. The auspices seemed highly encouraging
to Greene, as the British army came in sight; having
10

218 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
forced their way, step by step, through the thickets into
the open space, where the Americans were calmly
awaiting their approach.
Their appearance was the signal for the unmasking
and opening of the American artillery. The effect may
well be imagined of such a surprise upon them. Showers
of grape among their ranks, when they had been taught
to believe that Greene was wholly without artillery, pro
duced instantaneous results of confusion and dismay.
At this moment, struck with the extreme nanowness of
the British front, Greene seized the instant of their
greatest confusion, to give orders for a charge. To
close upon their flanks with his regiments on the right
and left, and cut off the fragments ofthe broken column,
seemed to require but a single order : " Let the cavalry
make for their rear. — Colonel Campbell wheel upon
their left, Ford upon their right — and the whole centre
charge with trailed arms." Such was the prompt com
mand delivered to his attendants, in what seemed the very
moment for its execution. His aids flew to convey it to
the proper captains. The roll of the drum announced
their tenor. The infantry stretched forward right and
left ; and the cavalry of Washington disappeared among
the trees, making the necessary circuit which would
bring them into the British rear.
For a moment, nothing could have been more auspi
cious to the hopes of the Americans. Their fire had
shown itself superior to that of the enemy. The artil
lery had done its work ; and the ranks which had suf
fered from its terrific discharges, had failed to recover
from their panic. *The regiments under Campbell and
Ford started forward, under an impetus at once swift
and steady; and the manoeuvre, right and left, upon the
flanks of the enemy, seemed to promise the most con
clusive finish to the grateful beginnings of the day. A

REVERSES OF THE FIELD. 219
feeble and ineffective" fire from the flanking companies
of the British, served rather to stimulate, than to dis
courage, their assailants ; and nothing remained to pre
vent the entire success of the Americans, but one of
those capricious whirls of fortune, which sometimes lay
the best plans, and the fairest prospects, prostrate in the
dust. Greene had no ordinary opponent in Rawdon. His
steady eye, deliberate and stern resolve, and ready
resources, made him a formidable adversary. He, too,
beheld the danger which awaited him, and of which the
American general had taken such instant advantage.
He saw the force by which his flanks were threatened,
and, with equal promptness, he ordered the protrusion
of tho supporting columns of his army. In an instant,
the Americans were outflanked, their wings enfiladed,
their rear threatened, and they themselves exposed to
the very same peril in which they had calculated to take
their enemy. A momentary recoil followed in the
American regiments. With equal discipline to that of
the enemy, the result must have been otherwise. But
the firing of the British drew the fire of the American
centre when their orders had been to reserve it. This
centre was composed of the very flower of the army, —
one of its two regiments being that of Gunby, or the
1st Maryland, whose conduct at Guilford had been so
conspicuous for its bravery. Firing against orders, was
one proof of confusion, which was increased by the fall
of Captain Beatty, of the right company ofthe regiment,
who was much beloved, and who was stricken down by
a bullet that pierced his heart. His fall checked the
progress of his command. The halt influenced the other
companies. It became a panic ; it spread from right to
left, from front to rear; and, finally, produced the recoil
of the whole regiment. Unhappily, while Williams,

220 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
Gunby, and Howard, were exhausting themselves in the
most earnest efforts to restore firmness and consistency,
Colonel Ford fell, mortally wounded, while gallantly
leading the other Maryland regiment on the American
left. The death of their leader, and the halt of Gunby's
veteran command, determined their career. They re
coiled also. An unhappy error of Gunby, who hoped
to recover his first line by halting it, instead of boldly
pushing forward the second to its support, was easily
mistaken for an order to retreat. A retreat it became,
accordingly — and one, which all efforts soon proved
fruitless to prevent or to repair.
Greene, at this period of disaster, was on the extreme
right, leading on Campbell's regiment in person. Called
away by the panic in the centre, he in vain labored to
restore order amid the confusion which prevailed, and
to bring the panic-stricken soldiers, once more, to face
the enemy. His voice and presence were not without
effect. A brief halt was obtained ; but, by this time,
they had reached the opposite foot of the hill, and he
was recalled to the field by the exulting shouts of tho
British. Galloping back to the scene, where the action
still continued, Greene was enabled, at a glance, to per
ceive the whole extent of his misfortune. The regiment
of Hawes was that only which remained entire. By tho
advance of this regiment, and the retreat of the other
centre regiment, the artillery was left, uncovered, upon
the summit of the hill. The field was lost, and the
danger was that the artillery would be lost also. Greene
perceived its peril and his own. He was on one of the
most conspicuous stations of the hill, with showers of
bullets continually flying around him ; but he gave his
orders with a degree of coolness and promptness, which
readily communicated itself to his followers. His only
hope was, to draw off the right and left regiments from

BATTLE OP HOBKIRK'8 HILL. 221
the now unequal struggle, and form them on the regi
ment of Gunby, which had now rallied ; while Hawes,
with the 2d Virginia, should cover the retrograde move
ment. The order was given and well executed. Hawes's
regiment retired firing and fighting, and with so firm a
front, as, in the issue, left to the American commander
a choice, whether to renew the conflict, or effect a regu
lar and orderly retreat; But it threatened to be at the
price of the artillery. For the safety "of his cannon,
Greene had ordered to the spot a select corps, of forty-
five men, under Captain Smith, the same officer whose
duel with Colonel Stuart, of the guards, formed so con
spicuous an incident in the battle of Guilford. But,
before Smith could reach the spot, the enemy, with loud
shouts, was making his way up the hill ; and Captain
Coffin, at the head of the British cavalry, was darting
forth from his cover in the woods, to join in the pursuit.
The American matrosses were already quitting the drag-
ropes, when Greene galloped up alone — his aids being
all engaged in conveying his orders — and, throwing
himself from his horse, with his own hands seizing upon
the ropes, set an example of perseverance and resolu
tion, which the most timid found it impossible to resist.
Smith's corps now made its appearance, and his men,
their muskets in one hand, applied the other to the
ropes, and made their way along the hill with the artil
lery. But the approach of Coffin's cavalry arrested
this progress. Then it was that, forming in the rear of
the artillery, Smith's little band encountered the charge
of their enemy, pouring into the advancing cavah-y a
fire so destructive as to compel their flight. Again and
again, however, did they return to the charge, and again
were they foiled and driven back by the deliberate aim
and steady nerve of this little squad, who, in the inter
vals, still pulled the ropes of the artillery, only throwing

222 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE,
them aside when it became necessary to form and receive
the charge of cavalry. But this game could not be con
tinued long. The British infantry began to arrive.
Their marksmen were scattering themselves among the
trees, and their dropping fire began to thin Smith's com
pany. His forty-five were soon reduced to fourteen.
He himself was badly wounded ; and, though he held
his ground with unflagging resolution, it was evident
that, but for timely succor, he must be lost. Unhappily,
before this succor could arrive, an irregular fire was
drawn, by some accident, from his little squadron, and
Coffin, with his cavalry, succeeded in forcing his ranks.
Every man was slain or taken. The artillery now
seemed lost. The batmen had run the limbers into the
woods, cut the horses out, and made off upon them. It
was at this moment that Colonel Washington charged in
upon the road, and put an end to the contest. This
officer had, unhappily, burdened himself with prisoners.
He had taken more than two hundred ; his humanity
revolting at those summary processes by which Tarleton
would have escaped the encumbrance. Each of his
troopers bore his captive behind him, when the disaster
of the army rendered necessary the final charge which
extricated the artillery. Flinging off his prisoners for the
onset, Washington drove the British cavalry up the hill,
and checked their farther pursuit of the retiring regi
ments. The artillery was carried off in safety, and
Greene, without farther molestation, continued the
retreat. Two miles from the field of battle, he halted to col
lect his stragglers, renewing his march in the afternoon,
and encamping for the night on Saunder's creek. Here
he remained until the 25th, not without the hope that
Rawdon, encouraged by his success, would attempt to
renew the battle. But the enemy did not venture to

MORTIFICATION OF GREENE. 223
repeat the experiment, and it is a curious fact, that by
a stratagem of Colonel Washington, the field of battle
really remained in his possession. Rawdon, with the
retreat of Greene, had taken up the line of march for
Camden, leaving Coffin with his cavalry and a detach
ment of mounted infantry, on the ground. Advised of
this arrangement, Washington placed his cavalry in a
thicket on the roadside, having pushed forward a small
party, with instructions to suffer themselves to be seen
by Coffin's troops, and then, by flight and a show of
panic, to beguile them into pursuit. The bait was taken,
and the entire troop of Coffin darted headlong in the
chase. Brought within the snare, Washington's cavalry
dashed out upon them, and the whole party were either
cut to pieces, or compelled to disperse for safety.
Grateful as he was for this success, the mortification
of Greene, at the issue of the combat, was almost
wholly without consolation. The cup of victory had
been snatched from his lips while the draught was most
grateful and ready for the taste. He had made the most
skilful disposition of his troops; he had omitted no pre
cautions ; he had placed in the post of danger the sol
diers whom he had reason to suppose the most assured
and steady ; and fortune had pronounced against all his
plans and all his calculations. The victory was already
in his grasp. The effect of his artillery had produced
consternation in the ranks- of the enemy — they were
already faltering, and the cool obedience to his orders,
as shown by the flanking regiments, had only to be sus
tained by the steady advance of the centre with the bay
onet, and the British, from wing to wing, must have
been swept from the field. The fall of Camden must
have followed, and this must have brought with it, as a
necessary consequence, the rapid surrender of all the
British posts from the mountains to the seaboard. Bit

224 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
terly did Greene reflect upon the inauspicious fortune.
which had so frequently interposed to snatch the cup of
hope from his lips to replace it by the cup of trembling !
His troops had not behaved badly. They had fought,
on the whole, with great spirit. A portion of them had
shown the tenacious courage of veterans, holding on to
the foe with a bulldog resolution which gave the most
flattering assurances of success. It was the unhappy
error of Gunby, whose order to his first line to halt,
when he saw them faltering, was unwise and unmilitary.
" Gunby," says Greene, in a letter, " was the sole cause
ofthe defeat. I found him much more blameable after
ward, than I represented him in my public letters." A
court of inquiry pronounced upon his conduct. They
approved equally his courage and activity. His zeal
and spirit were beyond all cavil. They censured the
order which he had given to his regiment, but as an
error of judgment only, and from which flowed all the
evil consequences of the day. The battle had been suf
ficiently bloody for the number of troops engaged, and
the loss ofthe opposing armies was nearly equal. " The
enemy," according to Greene, "had more than one third
of their whole force engaged, either killed or wounded ;
and we had not less than one quarter." If the Ameri
cans lost the victory, the barren honors of the field were
all that his success secured for Rawdon.

RESULTS OP TnE CONFLICT. 225

CHAPTER XVI.
Rawdon attempts tbe Camp of Greene. — Evacuates and destroys Cam
den. — Capture of Fort Motte and other Posts by the Partisans. —
Rawdon at Monk's Corner. — Marion takes Georgetown — Pickens
Augusta — Greene besieges Ninety-Six — Attempts to storm it, and is
defeated with Loss.
The event of the battle of Hobkirk's hill, though unfa
vorable to the Americans, did not materially change the
situation of the parties. Any successes of the British
which failed to destroy their adversaries, or drive them
out of the state, — any advantage, falling short of a
complete victory, — would fail in effecting for them any
advantageous change in .their situation. The army of
Greene was chiefly important to the southern states, at
this juncture, as it afforded a countenance to the whig
population, and, by keeping the foreign troops of the
enemy in constant anxiety and expectation, gave an
opportunity to the native partisan leaders, to cope with
the British detachments and their tory allies. There
was nothing, therefore, beyond the natural mortification
of defeat, in the recent battle, to discourage the hopes,
or compel a change in the plans, of the American gen
eral. On the other hand, there was much to qualify the
satisfaction which Rawdon felt in his victory. ¦ The
spirit of his troops, his own merits and good fortune,
had brought him success ; but it had been dearly paid
for, and it was incomplete. His strength - had been
lessened in the struggle, while that of his adversary ap
peared undiminished. He had been compelled to retire
10*

226 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
within his works at Camden, and the Americans still
gathered in his neighborhood. They had been driven,
but not out of sight; and he was in no condition to
renew the attempt at their destruction or expulsion —
not, certainly, with his present force, encumbered with
wounded, nor until the arrival of his reinforcements un
der Watson. The fate of this command was neces
sarily, a subject of the greatest anxiety.
To prevent the junction ofthe force under Watson —
estimated at six, hundred men, with four field-pieces —
with that of Rawdon, was the first subject of considera
tion with Greene. Marion and Lee were employed to
cover the intervening country, and arrest his march,
should he make for Camden. The last intelligence re
ported him to be still in Georgetown, and inactive ; and
Greene had no difficulty in persuading himself, that,
with the vigilant eyes of Sumter, Marion, and Lee, upon
his movements, it would be impossible for him to make
his way to the stronghold of Rawdon. But the troops
under our partisans, however swift and vigilant, were
not sufficiently numerous to compass such an extent
of country, so as to guard equally all its avenues ; and
Watson had large merits of his own as a partisan, which
his own and the necessities of his superior compelled
him to put in active requisition. With the co-operation
of Major M'Arthur, an intelligent and adroit captain of
cavah-y, he succeeded in masking his real movements,
and eluding the vigilance of his enemies. They had
attempted too much with their small commands, and
Watson succeeded in making his way into Camden.
The junction of this force with that already in the
garrison at Camden, by increasing the strength of Raw
don very much beyond that of Greene, rendered the
situation of the latter somewhat critical. In connexion
with rumors qf the approach of Cornwallis from Vir-

CONDITION OF GREENE'S FORCES. 227
ginia, it compelled him to exercise all his vigilance with
regard to his own safety. He foresaw that Rawdon's
increase of strength would naturally prompt him to
resume active operations in the field, and a proper
reflection taught him to look for the first blow from the
enemy. His first duty was to evade the conflict, to
which he was still unequal ; and, accordingly, on receiv
ing the tidings of Watson's good fortune, he set his
army in motion to increase the space that separated him
from Rawdon. Retiring to a strong position on the far
ther side of Colonel's creek, he drew up his army in
order of battle, and awaited his enemy.
Rawdon was not long in making his appearance. He
drove in the American pickets, reconnoitred their po
sition, and, finding it too strong to be forced he drew
off his army, and returned once more to Camden. This
respectful behavior carried with it few consolations to
the mind of Greene. His condition, and that of the
country, can be shown in no more forcible language
than that of Colonel Davie. " This evening," says he —
the 9th of May, the day after Rawdon's demonstration —
" the general sent for me earlier than usual. I found the
map on the table, and he introduced the business of the
night with the following striking observation: 'You
see that we must again resume the partisan war.
Rawdon has now a decided superiority of force. He
has pushed us to a sufficient distance to leave him free
to act on any object within his reach. He will strike at
Lee and Marion, reinforce himself by all the troops that
can be spared from the several garrisons, and push me
back to the mountains. . . . You observe our dangerous
and critical situation. The regular troops are now re
duced to a handful, and I am without militia to perform
the convoy or detachment service, or any prospect of
receiving any reinforcement. . . . North Carolina, <lis-

228 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
pirited by the loss of her regular troops in Charleston,
stunned into a kind of stupor by the defeat of General
Gates, and held in check by Major Craig and the loyal
ists, makes no effort of any kind. Congress seems to
have lost sight of the southern states, and to have aban
doned them to their fate ; so much so, that I am even as
much distressed for ammunition as for men. We must
always calculate on the maxim, that your enemy will do
what he ought to do. We will dispute every inch of
ground in the best manner we can ; but Rawdon will
push me back to the mountains. Lord Cornwallis will
establish a chain of posts along James river; and the
southern states, thus cut off, will die like the tail of a
snake." These were melancholy forebodings. The mind of
Greene, naturally cheerful and elastic, was overborne,
temporarily, by the pressure of defeat and the grief of
hopes deferred. But, however gloomy, he did not yield
to despondency. The native hue of resolution did not
abandon his heart. Nor was the case so bad as his
melancholy mood had painted it. He had been driven
rather than defeated, and his disappointments had never
been coupled with any real occasion for the exultation
of the enemy. His great prudence had served, in almost
every instance, to save him from material injury. His
recuperative faculties were great, and there were cir
cumstances, in the progress of the struggle, that were
full of future promise to the cause. The increase of
Rawdon's force at Camden did not imply anything but
a temporary gain. It gave him a momentary advantage
over his enemy, but was not adequate to the necessities
which grew around him. His chain of posts, already
broken by the loss of Fort Watson, was still farther
threatened by the active partisans of Carolina. Marion
was even now besieging Fort Motte, while Sumter and

INCREASE CF PARTISAN9. 229
Pickens were preparing for the investment of Granby,
Augusta, and Orangeburg. These, unless with timely
succor from the main army, must soon fall into the hands
of the Americans ; and, thus threatened with isolation,
with the several detached parties of tbe native militia
assembled in co-operation with Greene's army around
Camden, that garrison must succumb also. The pros
pect was scarcely more grateful to Rawdon than to
Greene ; and a progress that we have forborne to touch
upon, had contributed to awaken the most lively appre
hensions on the part of the British and their tory allies.
This had arisen in conseq'uence of the unexpected
growth and appearance of new bands of whig partisans
in every part of the state. In addition to those which
followed Sumter, Marion, and Pickens, they were every
where rising in proof of a revival of the revolutionary
spirit. The career of Major Harden had exercised a
highly important influence in the lower country. De
tached by Marion with seventy select men, well mounted,
he had crossed the enemy's line of communication ;
and, penetrating the country southwest from Charleston,
he had roused a spirit of hope and resistance, which
was full of the most beneficial results. Rapid in move
ment, appearing unexpectedly in the settlements, he had
taken the enemy by surprise everywhere, and rendered
himself the terror of the loyalists of that region. His
force gathered with its progress. His seventy grew to
hundreds; and, after scourging summarily the disaf
fected along the banks of the Savannah, in Georgia as
well as South Carolina, — mocking all plans to entrap,
and all efforts to subdue or overtake him, — he darted
upward in season to unite with Pickens, then operating
against Augusta.
This was but one instance of many similar progresses
which were calculated to encourage the hopes of the

230 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
Americans, and alarm the British general with regard
to the growing dangers of his fortune. Rawdon felt too
surely that his successes had been illusory. They could
not suffice to lessen the perils of his situation. His only
hope would be to beguile his enemy into a pitched bat
tle ; but his recent attempt te do so, satisfied him that
his antagonist was quite too wary to incur any unneces
sary perils, in a game which circumspection must secure.
In this lay his only hope, and it was one which tho
character of Greene forbade him to indulge. Denied
this hope, he felt, momently increasing, the apprehension
of being cut off from the seaboard. It was now known
that no help was to be expected from Cornwallis, whose
march to Virginia was beyond dispute; and, with this
knowledge in the American camp, Greene felt fully as
sured of the course of his opponent, in consequence of a
just appreciation ofthe critical exigency of his situation.
A single day altered the aspect of his fortunes, and his
own. We have, again, the testimony of General Davie :
" I employed the whole night in writing, until an orderly-
sergeant summoned me to headquarters, about daylight.
On entering the general's tent, I soon perceived some im
portant change had taken place. ' I have sent for you,'
said he, with a countenance expressing the most lively
pleasure, ' to inform you that Lord Rawdon is preparing
to evacuate Camden. That place was the key of the
enemy's line of posts. They will now all fall, or be
evacuated. All will now go well."
The orders of Rawdon had already gone forth for the
abandonment of Ninety-Six. Cruger, who commanded
at that place, was to remove his command to Augusta,
which was threatened by Pickens. Rawdon, himself,
meditated, by his own march, to save Fort Motte, and,
possibly, the farther posts of Orangeburg and Granby.
At all events, the British general was preparing to yield

RAWDON EVACUATES AND DESTROYS CAMDEN. 231
before the army which his increase of strength had not
enabled him to subdue. The departure, like the ap
proach, of the British, was usually marked by desolation.
Camden was given to the flames, and left in ruins. Had
the militia promised from Virginia been sent to Greene
in season, the British general would, in all probability,
have left Camden as a prisoner, rather than a destroyer.
He had not moved a moment too soon. The garrison
was already straitened for provisions ; and the arrival of
the Virginia militia, or the. co-operation of the several
commands of Sumter, Marion, Pickens, and Lee, after
the fall ofthe several posts against which they operated,
must have had but one issue in his overthrow.
Rawdon's movement was not in season for the relief
of Fort Motte. It had already fallen into the hands of
Marion. The posts at Orangeburg and Granby had
also been surrendered to Sumter and Lee, before he
could approach them, and his own march was watched
by Marion's parties. He pursued the route toward
Charleston. Greene had also put his army in motion,
in order to cover the detachments of Marion and Lee,
which he supposed still engaged in the leaguer of Fort
Motte. Sumter, whose impetuosity and enterprise were
ever the most striking elements in his military character,
now strenuously urged upon Greene the plan of uniting
with Lee and Marion, and making an attempt upon the
army of Rawdon. But the American general preferred
the safe game to the perilous one, however brilliant;
and the conquest of the posts of the interior, presented
themselves to his' mind as the most legitimate object,
Rawdon, meanwhile, made his way forward, without
interruption, until he reached Monk's comer, where, for
the time, he established himself, leaving the country all
above him in the hands of the Americans, with the
exception of the posts at Ninety-Six, Augusta, and its

232 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENB,
neighborhoods. The latter, pressed by Pickens and
Lee, were soon yielded to the skill and courage of the
assailants, though not without a fierce and bloody resist
ance. The capture of Forts Grierson and Cornwallis
was distinguished by one of those instances of sudden
and terrible retribution, which conferred a character, so
personal and vindictive, on the warfare in South Caro
lina. Colonel Grierson had become, with other obnox
ious enemies, particularly odious to the Americans by
his savage barbarities. It was while Pickens was absent
from the cjtmp, that a person unknown — disguised, per
haps, sufficiently to escape identification — dashed on
horseback into the house where Grierson was kept, and,
without dismounting, ¦ shot him dead, wheeling about
and escaping before he could be arrested. The inci
dent -reminds us of one in Scott's poem of Rokeby,
where the outlawed Bertram rides into the church,
amid the assembled congregation, and shoots down his
victim at the foot of the altar. So obnoxious had the
prisoners, taken on this occasion, become to the major
ity of the militia of Pickens's command, in consequence
of their monstrous and frequent atrocities, that the lives
of others were attempted, and their commander was
compelled to send them to Greene at Ninety-Six, in
order to protect them from the unsparing revenges of
the families they had outraged by their crimes.
Greene, meanwhile, almost for the first time with an
open field before him, — his apprehensions of Rawdon
at rest for the moment, — pressed forward, with all dili
gence, for the purpose of investing Ninety-Six. The
task of holding Rawdon in check, and confining him to
the neighborhood of the sea, was confided to Marion
and Sumter. In the execution of this duty, they closed
upon the British general, until he found it necessary to
fence himself in with a new chain of fortified places,

cl
s

I

o

THE POST AT NINETY-SIX. 233
extending from Georgetown, by Monk's comer, Dor
chester, and other points, to Coosawhatchie. But the
partisans, daily becoming bolder, did not hesitate to dash
at intervals within the limits of this cordon, and to ruffle
the dovecotes even within hail of Charleston. Marion,
strengthened sufficiently to leave a strong force of volun
teers for the protection of the country along the Santee,
directed his attention to Georgetown, which he took,
expelling the garrison and demolishing the works. His
lieutenant, Horry, had succeeded in silencing and sub
duing the loyalists along the Pee Dee ; and, in the
activity of the several parties under these commanders,
Rawdon soon found himself greatly straitened in his
resources, and threatened in his securities. They were
not in sufficient strength for any open demonstration in
his neighborhood ; but they traversed the country almost
beneath his eyes, sweeping off the -herds, and cutting
off his foragers. Thus watched, pursued, and environed
by the most sleepless and restless foes, Rawdon was
compelled to gnash his teeth in inactivity, while Greene*
was making his approaches to the important and strong
post of Ninety-Six.
The siege of this place constituted one of the most
stubborn and animated contests of the campaign. It
was a position of great strength, well fortified, and with
a numerous gamson. Greene, soon after reconnoitring
it, expressed his apprehensions of failure. " The fortifi
cations are so strong, the garrison so large and so well
furnished, that our success is doubtful." It was held by
Colonel Cruger, an American loyalist of skill and cour
age ; and no pains, that zeal and industry could suggest
or employ, were spared in preparing for the leaguer.
Numerous slaves were employed to relieve the garrison
from laborious services ; while abundant supplies of
provisions precluded all hope of starving them into sub-

234 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
mission. Originally a stockade, raised by the first in
habitants as a barrier to Indian incursion, the post of
Ninety-Six, or Cambridge, became the site of a village
bearing the latter name. Lying a few miles to the
south of the Saluda, and less than forty from the Savan
nah river, it constituted an important position for the
control and keeping of a large and exposed frontier.
The name of Ninety-Six was derived from the distance
at which it stood from Fort Prince George, another
post which had been planted among the Cherokee towns
along the Keowee. The spot was otherwise distin
guished as the scene of the first conflicts in the southern,
and perhaps in the revolutionary war. At this place, in
1775, commenced that dreadful civil war between the
patriots and loyalists, which, afterward, desolated the
country. Many of the present defenders of Ninety-Six,
under Cruger, were natives, who had distinguished them
selves by their ferocity, and who now fought with halters
about their necks. That they should fight desperately
'and well, it is easy to conjecture.
The simple works of defence which originally cov
ered the spot, were strengthened by others of superior
character, as soon as Cornwallis resolved that it should
be occupied. Select British engineers were employed
for this purpose, and new works were raised, with a due
regard to all the requisitions of military science. Among
these works was a redoubt, in the form of a star, with six
teen salient and returning angles. It stood within rifle
shot to the southeast of the village. It was manned with
three pieces of artillery, worked on wheeled carriages,
which enabled its defenders to sweep any point along the
horizon ; while the rifles of a numerous garrison covered
the more limited range with crossing fires, from which it
was scarcely possible that any assailants should escape.
A dry ditch, frieze, and abatis, by which it was sur-

SIEGE OF NINETY-SIX. 235
rounded, still farther increased the strength of the po
sition, and lessened the chances of successful assault
upon the defenders. Opposite, at a distance of nearly
two hundred yards, a stockade fort, which enclosed two
blockhouses of strength, occupied the crown of a small
eminence. A little valley, traversed by a streamlet, which
afforded water to the garrison, divided this fortress from
the village, and was reached by a covert way. Con
tiguous to this valley, and as a protection on the right,
the county jail had been converted into a castle, and
was strongly garrisoned also. The several places of
defence lay within easy reach and support of one
another, and numerously held, with ample supplies of
food and ammunition, might well discourage the inferior
and ill-provided army with which Greene prepared to
undertake the leaguer. His force, exclusive of militia,
did not exceed a thousand men, and left him without
the means of assailing the garrison except on a single
side. He had sat down before the place on the 22d of
May, commencing his examination in person, accom-'
panied by the celebrated Kosciuzko, his chief engineer,
and one of his aids, and, under cover of a thick and
rainy night, approaching so near the works as to be
challenged and fired upon by the sentinels. The star
redoubt was selected as the most conspicuous object for
attack, as it commanded all the others. Yet Greene
was totally without battering cannon, and in such a
deficiency, the only modes of procedure were by simple
blockade, by mining, or by storm. The fonner process,
the garrison having abundance of provisions, it was
useless to attempt : Greene resolved upon trying both
the remaining modes. Had it been known that the
garrison had failed to procure water by digging within
the redoubt, it would have been easy to cut them off
from the stream which wound through the valley;— but,

236 LIFE OF NATnANAEL GREENE.
as, on a previous occasion, a well had been sunk within
the redoubt, affording ample quantities, the besiegers
had no reason to doubt that a similar experiment would
be followed by the same result.
The besiegers broke ground on the 23d; and, pro
ceeding by regular approaches, on the 3d of June the
second parallel was completed. Numbering but twice
the force of the garrison, the duty fell severely upon the
Americans of fighting and working, with little relief or
cessation. On completing the first parallel, a mine,
directed against the star redoubt, was commenced, under
cover of a battery which had been thrown up on the
enemy's right. Day and night, the work was pursued
by the besiegers. Now laboring in the ditches, — now
watching over those who labored, — and sleeping, where
they toiled, on their arms, with the view to repel the
sallies of the besieged — their hours of rest and respite
were exceedingly limited. The besieged showed neither
want of energy nor spirit. Their sallies were frequent,
marked by great audacity, and usually resulted in pro
longed and bloody conflicts. The steady progress of
the American works sufficiently prove, that, however
bold, the sallies of the garrison were without any pro
ductive results. They proved rather tlieir courage and
daring, than their ability arid strength. Not a night
passed without battle and the loss of life.
With the completion of the second parallel, the gar
rison was summoned to surrender. A courtly defiance
was Cruger's answer. The third and last parallel was
immediately begun, and prosecuted with a degree of
vigor which the exhausted state of the army would have
scarcely promised. It was at this moment, when most
he needed his recruits, that Greene was apprized that the
Virginia militia, two thousand in number, for whom he
had been looking so long, had been diverted in another

DISCOURAGEMENTS OF THE SIEGE. 237
quarter by the governor of that state. He had com
menced his operations against Ninety-Six, in anticipa
tion of this body of men. The militia of South Carolina
and Georgia were barely adequate to the duty of keep
ing Rawdon and the tories in check. Those under
Pickens were still engaged in the siege of Augusta.
Could the Virginians have arrived in season, the siege
could have been pressed at once to conclusion, and the
place, in spito of the vigor of its defence, must have
soon fallen into his hands. What rendered the proceed
ing particularly ungracious, which deprived him of the
Virginia militia, was the fact, that, for the defence of
this very state, he had voluntarily deprived himself of
his whole disposable force. It was at his instance, when
Cornwallis was found to be pressing upon Virginia, that
Lafayette had been ordered back, — that the troops of
Pennsylvania, on their way south, had been halted and
made to act under Lafayette and Steuben, — and that
the North-Carolina levies, actually on their way to join
him, had been sent in the same direction to the succor
of the sister state. And this magnanimity had been
shown by Greene immediately after the battle of Cam
den, when he was lying in front of a superior enemy,
and destitute of almost everything.
He could only complain and remonstrate against this
treatment. He had no other remedy. To issue new
orders to the North-Carolina levies to join him instead
of proceeding to Virginia, — to make a new effort to
raise troops in South Carolina and Georgia, — and to
concentrate all his present strength upon the present
object — that of bringing the ganison of Ninety-Six to
their knees with all rapidity,-; — were the tasks before
him, and to which all his' energies were now addressed.
With the commencement of his. third parallel against
the star redoubt, the sallies of the garrison were increased

238 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
in frequency and spirit. The fighting was incessant,
Their three pieces were used with equal vigor and
judgment, and it became necessary to silence them if
.possible. Rude towers of roughlyrhewn logs were
raised, of sufficient solidity to withstand the weight of
the shot thrown by the garrison. These were manned
with marksmen, whose fire, from a commanding position,
soon picked the artillerists from their guns. Red-hot
shot were employed, by the besieged, for the destruction
of these towers; but the green wood of which they
were constructed, baffled the fervor of the flames. Si
lenced during the day, the artillery of the garrison was
employed for a while, fruitlessly, at night ; but this prac
tice was soon abandoned, as it was found how ineffec
tual was the aim. The cordon was contracting around the
brave defenders ofthe fort; and the arrival of Lee, with
his legion, from the siege of Augusta, which had now
surrendered, enabled Greene to direct his efforts against
the stockade fortress also. He had reason to urge all
his efforts to shorten the duration of the siege. Des
patches from Marion had brought him intelligence of
the arrival, in Charleston, of three British regiments, to
the support of Rawdon. The acquisition of this force
would give the latter the immediate and complete ascen
dency in the state, and, as Greene well knew, would set
him instantly in motion for the relief of the beleaguered
post. To press his leaguer with all his strength and
energy, and to keep the garrison from any knowledge
of the increased ability, or of the efforts, of Rawdon to
relieve them, were the immediate objects of the Ameri-
ca*h general. To secure the latter object, Colonel Wash
ington, who had now rejoined the army with his cavalry,
and the cavalry of Lee's legion under Major Rudolph,
were ordered to reinforce Sumter, who was instructed
to form a junction with Marion — the whole force, thus

THE GARRISON STRAITENED. 239
united, to hang upon the enemy's march, retard his
movements by every possible means, and completely
cover the country over which tidings of his approach
could be transmitted. Assuming the reduction of
Ninety-Six as a matter certain, could the necessary
delay be secured, Greene's determination was, after that
event, taking with him the Georgia and South-Carolina
militia, to join his forces with those of Sumter and
Marion, and give Rawdon battle on the march. But the
reduction of Ninety-Six was the first object.
The siege of the star was urged with the desperate
energy of those who knew how much depended on the
event. Lee, meanwhile, made regular and rapid ap
proaches to the stockade. He, too, had to encounter
numerous and spirited sallies of the besieged; — but his
advance was equally swift and steady; and very soon,
between his fire and that of the third parallel, the enemy
could no longer venture to the rivulet for water in the
light of day. Naked negroes were now employed, by
night, for the purpose of bringing in the necessary sup
plies to the garrison" of both places ; and those who
know the singular consideration of self which marks this
class of people, may easily imagine how* limited must
have been the supply thus furnished to the gai-rison.
To increase their disquiets and discomforts, an attempt
was made, such as had been employed by Marion at
Fort Motte, to set fire to the buildings within the fort by
means of burning arrows. But Cruger instantly un
roofed his houses, and thus escaped all farther peril from
this source of annoyance. An attempt of Lee to de
stroy the abatis of the stockade by fire, in open daylight,
was similarly unsuccessful, and resulted in the destruc
tion of the whole party engaged in the attempt. But
these disappointments did not discourage the besiegers.
The fate of the brave garrison seemed to be a thing

240 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
written. It was evident that the defence could not much
longer be maintained. Tlieir works were all overawed
by the superior fire of the besiegers, whose wooden
towers approached within thirty yards of the ditch, from
which the riflemen swept everything human that rose
within vision above the ramparts. A battery, twenty
feet high, for cannon, within a hundred and forty yards,
so entirely commanded the star redoubt, that it became
necessary to give its parapet, already twelve feet high,
three feet more of elevation ; which was done by means
of sandbags, small intervals between which were left for
the use of small arms. The withdrawal of the bags by
night, left embrazures for the cannon, which could thus
be pointed capriciously, without suffering the assailants
to conjecture in what quarter they would next appear.
Thus, with a stubbornness and perseverance, on both
sides, which amply testified the common origin of the
several combatants, they lay watching each other. The
pressing energy of the one, was nobly met by the
unflinching constancy of the other. For eighteen days
had the conflict continued : and, at this moment, not a
man could show his head on either side without draw
ing the fire of his enemy. It was seldom that the bullet
was sped' in vain. Much blood had been already shed.
Many were the gallant deeds performed on both sides —
on that of the garrison, apparently, in vain. Sanguine
of the result, now apparently at hand, the soldiers of
Greene looked forward to a grateful termination of their
toils in the sun-ender of the fortress. A corresponding
gloom, which was only not despair, had fastened upon
the hearts of their opponents. Their resources were
diminishing, their strength momently lessening, their
hope exhausted. They knew nothing of tho reinforce
ments received by Rawdon — -knew nothing of his
approach for their relief. Their minds were prepared

RAWDON APPROACHES TO RELIEVE TnE GARRISON. 241
for the catastrophe wliich seemed inevitable ; when, at
the moment of their greatest despondency, they received
tidings of succor, and were invigorated to new efforts in
the contest. The facts were these ; — they mingle a little
romance with the dull details of ordinary matters. —
There was a young lady, the daughter and sister of
tried and honored patriots, who resided at a place not
far distant from the American camp. Unsuspected, she
visited the camp, with a flag, on some pretence of little
moment. She was received with civility, and dined at
the table of the general. It was not known that she
was the betrothed of a British officer then in the garri
son. Subsequently, however, it was discovered that she
had remained for a day or two at a neighboring farm
house. In this period, a young loyalist, well mounted,
dashed through the American line of pickets, and, by
the rapidity of his flight, baffled the sudden fire which
he drew from the sentinels. His audacity, and the nar
row escape which he ran, were a sufficient passport for
his admission to the garrison. He brought the tidings,
in a verbal message from Lord Rawdon, which gave
new life to the garrison. His news was too grateful to
be questioned. Their huzzas, and an animated feu de
joie, announced his mission to the besiegers, and indi
cated the newborn resolution which now defied their
utmost efforts.
It now became necessary that the place should be
earned by storm. With Rawdon approaching, and the
ganison in possession of the fact, there was no chance
of a more pacific termination of the siege. Accord
ingly, the resolution having been taken, the several de
tachments of the besiegers were ready by twelve, on
the morning ofthe 18th of June, to attempt the assault;
— hot work for hot weather. Lee was to command in
the assault upon the stockade. His forlorn hope was
11

242 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
led by Rudolph, supported by the infantry of the legion,
and the remains of the gallant Delawares under Kirk
wood. The forlorn hope against the star redoubt was
led by Lieutenants Duval and Seldon, — the one with a
command of Marylanders, and the other of Virginians.
They were followed by Colonel Campbell at the head
of the first Maryland and first Virginia regiments, by
whom the assault was to be made. The American
forts, the rifle-towers, and the advanced works, were all
manned, with orders to sweep and clear the enemy's
parapet during the advance of the storming party. Par
ties bearing fascines to fill the ditches, others armed with
long poles barbed with hooks of iron to pull down the
sandbags, followed in the footsteps of the forlorn hopes,
the tasks of which, particularly in the attempt on the
star redoubt, were sufficiently perilous. They were to
advance, under the numerous crossfires of its angles, to
clear the abatis, and, driving off the defenders, occupy
the ciirtain opposite them, while the hookmen drew the
sandbags from the walls. This service done, Campbell,
with his two regiments, was to gain the summit and
finish the work.
The American works were manned, accordingly, with
riflemen prepared to sweep the enemy's parapets. Pre
cisely at noon, the signal for the assault was given.
Then followed a blaze of fire from artillery and small
arms, from right to left, all concentrating on the centre
of attack. Under this cloud of fire and storm, the assail
ing parties rushed to the assault. No effort could have
been more nobly impulsive, or more resolutely main
tained. In an instant, this gallant little band had crossed
the ditch and commenced the work of destroying the
abatis. They were encountered by a terrible fire from
within the works, the severity of which naturally in
creased with the increased destruction of the abatis

ATTEMPT TO STORM THE REDOUBT. 243
From every crevice in the sandbags, the rifle poured
forth its deadly missile — a constant stream, to which
the assailants could oppose nothing but unflinching ob
stinacy in the prosecution of their tasks. It was in vain
that they opposed their constancy to this destructive fire.
Pikes and bayonets bristled above them, defying their
approach, and mocking their endeavors. Between two
angles of the redoubt, the discharges of both swept their
columns with unsparing rage. Their bravest were the
first to fall. The gallant Captain Armstrong, of the 1st
Marylanders, was struck down, among the first, at the
head of his company. Duval and Seldon were both
severely wounded. But they pressed forward, encour
aging their commands, till the curtain was won, and the
hookmen, promptly following while the other fought,
strove to pull down the sandbags from their elevations.
The attainment of this object might have secured the
victory ; but they had greatly miscalculated the depth
of the ditch and the height of the parapet. The sand
bags were above their reach, and their toils were taken
in vain.
This was a melancholy misfortune. Greene saw with
anguish the fruitlessness of the straggle. The prey was
about to escape his grasp. The fight had continued for
nearly an hour, and but little had been achieved. The
stockade had been won, with little risk, by Lee's party,
led by Rudolph ; the enemy having concentrated them
selves, for the final struggle, in the star. But this ad
vantage was of little moment. No impression had been
made on the formidable redoubt, which had been the-
main object of the enterprise. The greater part of the
assailing party had fallen, either slain or wounded, in the
ditch. It was possible that success might attend a con
tinuance of the conflict. Lee was prepared to sustain
the movement on the right. The assailing party had

244 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
been, comparatively, a small one, and repeated efforts,
with larger parties, might result more fortunately. But,
with Rawdon approaching with a fresh army, Greene
dared not wait the doubtful issues of the conflict.
Even if successful in the storm, yet what could be his
hope against the now full regiments of the British, with
a greatly crippled army. Reluctantly, he gave the order
to retire. Lee was recalled ; Campbell commanded to
desist; and the survivors in the strife, bringing back
with them the greater number of their wounded com
rades, escaped in the face of a galling fire, which the
garrison delivered as thev retired.

SPIRITS OF THE TROOPS. 245

CHAPTER XVII.
Greene retreats from Ninety-Six. — Is pursued by Rawdon. — The latter
evacuates Ninety-Six, and retires toward the Seaboard. — Greene turns
upon and pursues him. — Various Movements of the Armies. — Rawdon
at Orangeburg. — Greene offers him Battle. — He ' declines it. — Is
strengthened by Cruger, and Greene retires and encamps among the
High Hills of Santee.
The cup of triumph was-once more plucked from the
lips of the Americans, at the very moment when the pre
cious draught seemed to be secure. Greene was not
much the favorite of fortune. What he achieved seemed
to be in her despite. The siege of Ninety-Six had lasted
twenty-eight days. In its progress he had lost nearly
two hundred men killed and wounded ; but, even with
this disappointment of his object, and this diminution of
his force, he found some reasons for hope and consola
tion. The constancy and spirit which his troops had
shown, were full of the happiest auguries. They, were
beginning to reap, obviously, all the advantages which
qualify the mortification of defeat, and prepare for a
grateful change of fortune. There was no longer dan
ger that they would again suffer from such a panic as
lost them the field of Hobkirk, and Greene had not so
much to regret in his failure before Ninety-Six except the
loss of so many admirable soldiers. With adequate num
bers, trained like these, he should no longer shrink from
a pitched battle with his enemy. In his despatches to
Congress, he expresses this confidence and satisfaction.
" The behavior of the troops on this occasion deserves
the highest commendation. . . They have undergone in-

246 LIFE OP NATHANAEL GREENE.
credible hardships during the siege. . . Had the Virginia
militia joined us, agreeably to orders, success would have
been complete." He did not withdraw from the leaguer
too precipitately. Rawdon's army was almost within
striking distance. He was but a few miles off when the
last struggle was made, and the storming party was rush
ing to the breach. The force of Rawdon was more than
two, thousand men ; too large a force for the detachments
under Sumter and Marion to oppose. He was also strong
in cavalry. They could only hang upon his flanks ; and
even in the performance of this duty, an unfortunate
facility of route, which enabled Rawdon to choose at
pleasure, and almost at any moment, required that the
forces of the partisans should be so scattered as, if pos
sible, to keep a watch on all. The same circumstance
prevented Sumter from calling in his detachments, and
pressing for Ninety-Six in season to enable Greene, thus
strengthened, to advance and choose the proper ground
for an advantageous meeting with his lordship. For this
Greene was anxious. He writes with great earnestness on
this subject to all the partisans. " It is my wish to meet
him," is the language of one of these letters, " and I
doubt not of victory if the virtuous militia collect and
fight with their usual gallantry. Come on, then, my good
friend, and bring Lieutenant-Colonel Jackson with you,
and all the good troops you have collected. Let us have
a field-day, and I doubt not it will be a glorious one. No
time is to be lost, — be here to-mon-ow evening at far
thest." This was written on the 17th. It was on the
18th that the attempt was made to storm the post at
Ninety-Six. But the virtuous militia did not arrive in
season, and the approach of Rawdon rendered the at
tempt to storm, and the subsequent retreat, indispensa
ble. Greene, therefore, on the 19th, moved off, on the
track of his baggage, previously sent, across the Saluda.

GREENE RETREATS FROM NINETY-SIX. 247
This retrograde movement, as usual, affected the enthu
siasm of the militia. Of four regiments of volunteers,
under Sumter, every* man left him in a single day.
Marion was only less unfortunate. The fluctuations of
the spirits of an army can only be counteracted by the
imperative necessity of the service ; by the conviction
on the part of the soldiers, that, through good or ill
fortune, they have no refuge but in camp. The lessons
of the revolutionary war were incessant, and of the
most impressive character, which taught the absurdity of
any other process for raising troops among the militia, than
that which binds them to the business for the whole war.
Greene's retreat, once begun, was pressed with little
intermission for twenty-two miles. It was well that he
could retreat. He had shown his troops that such a ne
cessity implies feebleness but not discredit, and some
times, indeed, supplies what is equal to a victory. At
all events, his soldiers had learned to endure, without too
great a degree of humiliation, this usually humiliating
necessity. Had Greene been a more rash and impulsive
man, he might have recoiled, at the risk of their safety
and his own reputation, at the inevitable misfortune; and
by giving way to his pride against his judgment, have
forfeited the stakes he played for. But, in truth, retreat
did not imply, in his case, the disappointment of his ob
jects. He was simply driven, for the moment, from his
prey, which, events had shown, was destined to fall into
his hands at last. Thus had he been hunted and pursued
by Cornwallis, yet the latter had been exhausted by the
very advantages he had won, while the American gen
eral, soon recovering, was pressing forward to a renewal
of his efforts. To Cornwallis, Rawdon had succeeded ;
and Greene was twice — soon to be thrice — driven
before him. Yet, all the while, the strongholds of the
British were falling into the hands of his detachments,

248 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
and he was ready, the moment that his pursuer had given
up tho chase, to turn upon his footsteps and renew his
enterprises. These characteristic's of the warfare he pur
sued, well understood among his followers, had now ta
ken the sting from partial defeat, and the humiliation
from flight. Retreat was only a part of the game, and
not an unforeseen disaster. It was, in other words, that
process of muscular contraction which is necessary to a
becoming future exercise of strength ; such a contrac
tion as the individual makes, when, seeking to spring
far, he crouches low. Cheerfully then, and in good
spirits, strengthened by tlieir past experience, the troops
of Greene made their way over Bush river, and, with the
tidings of Rawdon's advance, sped on yet farther across
the rivers Enoree, Tyger, and Broad, halting, on the 25th,
at a place called Tim's Ordinary, about half way between
the Broad and the Catawba rivers. Rawdon pushed for
ward to the Enoree, but found the pursuit to be equally
impolitic and vain. Greene had swept the country in
his progress, and was in due route to his magazines
on the Catawba. Rawdon, moving from his own, felt
momently the increasing want of supplies, his foragers
not daring to venture far in the face of two strong de
tachments of cavalry and light-infantry, under Washing
ton and Lee, accompanied by Greene himself, that sul
lenly preceded the pursuit. The army ofthe Americans,
meanwhile, continued its march under Colonel Williams.
Greene had gained another of his victories when Raw
don abandoned the pursuit. He had the fate of Corn
wallis before him, whose pursuit of Greene, continued
into three states, had, by a curious coincidence, begun
at the very spot where his successor deemed it wiser to
forbear. It might be that Rawdon was less influenced
by this ominous coincidence than we have reason to sup
pose. Other considerations may have governed him in

BRITISH ABANDON NINETY-SIX. 249
abandoning the chase. His troops were fresh from Eu
rope, had marched nearly two hundred and fifty miles
in less than twelve days, and, clad in thick garments,
were far less able to withstand the melting heats of the
climate in midsummer, than the Americans, who were
little burdcnod with any clothing. His return to Nine
ty-Six revealed still farther the difficulties of his govern
ment. That place was to be abandoned also. Remote
from the seaboard, it could no longer be maintained.
The toils were closing momently around the invader, and
he was compelled, however reluctantly, to draw in all
the troops from his outposts, — to contract his antennae.
This necessity, if humbling to the British, was pregnant
with still worse conditions to their tory allies. Ninety-Six
had been the very centre of their wantonness and power.
Here, encouraged by the foreign emissary, they had run
full riot over the whig inhabitants. In the simple con
sciousness of strength, they had indulged it in excess,
and the surrounding country had been ravaged by their
gross and terrible barbarities. When, therefore, sum
moning their chiefs around him, Rawdon declared the
necessity of .withdrawing the British garrison from the
post, a terror which they had never felt before seized
upon their apprehensions. This was to abandon them
to the just vengeance of their enemies. The day of
retribution was come. They felt what was due to their
atrocities, and shrunk from the tender mercies of the
avenger. There was but olie alternative before them,
and that they adopted. This was to abandon the coun
try and to follow that foreign power to which, and their
own passions, they had sold themselves, and which alone
could give them protection. Melancholy was the specta
cle that followed. Trooping slowly and gloomily in the
van and rear of the British army, went the families of
this unhappy faction. For days the roads from Ninety-Six
11*

250 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
were crowded with a wretched cavalcade, men, women,
children, and slaves, with cattle and wagons, seeking
the protection of the British army on its way to the sea
board. They were leaving their homesteads at the most
endearing season. The whole country was looking most
beautiful in the vigorous warmth of the maturing sum
mer. Their fields, paved in green and gold, with the
growing harvests, and fruits and flowers on every hand,
imploring them to stay, compelled tears from eyes that
had not often shown pity to their fellow-creatures. Con
scious of their own brutal rage and the hardness of heart
with which, in the 6eason of their prosperity and power,
they had regarded their unhappy brethren among the
whigs, they could hope for no mercy from them in the
day which found the position of the parties reversed.
They did not dare to make the experiment upon sympa
thies which they had so commonly joyed to outrage;
and, followed by keen eyes of vengeance, as they clung
to the shelter of the British, on their downward march,
they made their way, a melancholy and doomed commu
nity, to the neighborhood of Charleston, where a misera
ble hamlet, called Rawdontown, in the suburbs of the
city, gave them temporary shelter ; but where pestilence,
and the diseases of an unfriendly climate, soon thinned
their numbers, leaving but few to burden the retiring
vessels of the enemy when they finally left the country.
Such as remained in the interior suffered more summa
rily, but it is doubtful if from a severer fate. The re
turning whigs, desperate from ruined circumstances, and
protracted injuries, pursued their vengeance with a sleep
less appetite wherever they could find a victim. The
country was depopulated, and in spite of the strenuous
efforts of Greene to meliorate the sufferings of the peo
ple, or, rather, their rage, he was but too frequently com
pelled to hear of cruelties which shocked humanity, and

GREENE TURNS UrON RAWDON. 251
of bloody revenges for past crimes, over which humanity
could only weep. The time that he could spare from
the enemy, was devoted to the most earnest endeavors
to soothe the passions and disarm the fury ofthe people ;
but his toils were only in part successful. It is estima
ted that the civil war in Ninety-Six District alone left
fifteen hundred widows to deplore its horrors.
In retracing his steps toward the seaboard, and with
drawing the forces from Ninety-Six, Lord Rawdon di
vided his army into two nearly equal bodies. One of
these bodies, under Cruger, was employed to cover the
departure of the Loyalists ; while the other, consisting of
eleven hundred infantry, sixty cavalry, and two compa
nies of artillery, under his own command, took up the
line of march, on the 29th of June, for Orangeburg, at
which place he had instructed Colonel Stuart, with a
strono- detachment, to meet him. The signal for his de
parture was that ofthe return of Greene upon his track.
He had already anticipated the necessity for the retreat
of Rawdon, and provided against it. Lee, with his
legion, was ordered to hover about the post of Ninety-
Six, and to strike whenever an opportunity offered.
Washington, with his cavalry and the infantry of Kirk
wood, was to keep near the enemy at Orangeburg, with
a similar purpose. Sumter was instructed to descend the
country, and to co-operate with Marion in pursuit of the
common object ; while Greene, himself, with the main
army, taking the route toward Granby, was to determine
his own by the movements of the enemy. The progress
of the latter seemed to indicate a design upon the posts
which the Americans bad recently reconquered; and the
apprehensions of Greene were still lively lest Rawdon
should oro-anize garrisons along the route from Ninety-
Six, out of the bands of loyalists about him, with which
his foreign reinforcements enabled him to dispense for

252 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
the present. Greene's object, in this pursuit, and in the
employment of his light troops, was to prevent any such
design from being put into execution, and, gradually, to
compel his adversary to retire once more within that
range of inferior posts with which he had environed
himself in the neighborhood ofthe sea. This was his
desire and design — a design to be put in execution only
when his recruits should sufficiently increase the strength
of his army. This was still greatly inferior to that of
Rawdon, but improving daily under the active agency
of Marion and Sumter. The militia were once more
gathering about their favorite leaders, under the encour
aging effect produced by the retrograde movement of
Rawdon ; and a small detachment of continentals, and
some two hundred and fifty North Carolina levies, under
Major Armstrong, presented themselves at camp at a
moment when it most needed favoring auguries. But
the season was unfavorable to enterprise. The heat
was excessive ; and Greene found it necessary to give
his army a couple of days of rest. Meanwhile, the ob
jects of the British commander continued doubtful, and
the American general remained in a state of the most
anxious suspense. His opinion was, that Rawdon medita
ted a retreat ; but this might only be a feint. He might
really desire to fall within his new line of posts ; but it
might be his purpose to establish himself on the Conga
ree, and compass, within his power, the country between
the Edisto to the west, and that of the Congaree and
Santee to the north and east. Such, really, was his in
tention; but it was not ur.til the first of July that his
object became known to the American general. A let
ter of Stuart, which Washington had intercepted, advised
Rawdon of his march, but gave him to understand that
he could not reach Granby, whither the latter had sum
moned him, by the time specified — namely, the-3d of

LEE CUTS OFF THE BRITISH HORSE. 253
July. A dvised, at the same time, by Lee, that Rawdon,
relying on this junction with Stuart, had ventured to
divide his forces equally with Cruger, and was marching
toward Granby in the'fullest confidence that the meeting
would be effected at the designated time, suggested to
Greene the prospect of an enterprise for which he im
mediately put. his troops in motion. If he could succeed
in throwing himself between Rawdon and his detach
ments, he might destroy him in detail. Disembarrassing
itself of everything which might impede the march, the
army was put under the command of General Huger,
with orders to press on to the Congaree. Greene, him
self, with a small escort of cavalry, hunied off in search
of Colonel Washington, and in order that he might ob
serve more nearly those indications by which his ulterior
measures were to be directed.
The forward movement of the American army, and
possibly the nonarrival of any courier with advices from
Stuart, appears to have awakened the apprehensions of
Rawdon. He mjw urged his own march with an obvi
ous anxiety to reach Granby in anticipation ofthe Amer
icans. His progress was attended with some misfortunes,
which probably increased his desire to hasten forward.
Lee's cavalry, by which his retreating footsteps were
harassed and haunted, succeeded in cutting off nearly
the whole of the British horse, taking forty-five of them
prisoners when within but a mile of their army. This event
exaggerated the alarm of Rawdon, and his speed was
increased with but small regard to the health and com
fort of his troops, more than fifty of whom fell dead from
heat and fatigue, in the progress from Ninety-Six to
Orangeburg. But he succeeded in his object, and
reached Granby two days in advance of that which he
had appointed for the rendezvous with Stuart, and, con
sequently, before Greene was ready to present himself

254 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
at the same point of junction. This point gained, Raw
don lingered only long enough to destroy the boats for
some distance along the river, and then, chiefly solicitous
for his detachments, pressed forward immediately to
Orangeburg, where he took up a strong position, await
ing the arrival of Stuart and Cruger. He had gained a
position of safety, with desperate exertions that did not
scruple at great sacrifice of life in the prosecution of his
purpose.' Foiled of his prey, Greene had other hopes in reserve.
Apprized, through a deserter, of a large supply of stores
which were on the march to Orangeburg, he laid a plan
for securing them. These stores were of vital impor
tance to the British, and their loss might eventually lead
to the destruction of the army. They were a tempting
bait to the Americans, to whom they were almost as im
portant. But the well-concerted measures failed, and
the next object was to attempt the detachment under
Stuart. Greene, at the head of the corps of Marion and
Washington, resolved to lead this enterprise in person.
He succeeded in passing Lord Rawdon on the 6th of
July, and Marion placed himself in waiting for his prey.
But the good fortune of the British general had not
deserted him. Sallying out, at one o'clock, on the morn
ing of the 8th, expecting to take his prey, Marion, to his
utter discomfiture, found that Stuart had passed him in
the night. Unconscious of his danger, and influenced
only by a choice of roads, the British colonel had turned
aside into one, while his enemy was seeking for him in
another. The miserable deficiency of force, thus fre
quently prevented the Americans from realizing the
best-laid plans of enterprise. On the day of tho junction
of Stuart with Rawdon, a letter from Marion shows
how little the British army was in a condition to fight or
fly. He writes : " Their troops are so fatigued that they

GREENE OFFERS RAWDON BATTLE. 256
can not possibly move. Three regiments were going to
lay down their arms, and it is believed they will to-day,
if they are ordered to march. They have no idea of any
force being near them."
Greene was anxious, but in no condition, to take ad
vantage of this disorganization in the ranks of the enemy,
Rawdon soon recruited his troops by repose, and his
position was too strongly sheltered to be attempted by
the troops of the American general. With the defeat
ofthe attempt upon Stuart, he had retraced his steps to
the army, and calling in his detachments on the Conga
ree, and finding himself in unusual strength, with fully
two thousand troops, including the men of Marion and
Sumter, he prepared to march down and offer battle to
his enemy. The advantage of numbers was with Greene.
The force of Rawdon, with that of Stuart, did not ex
ceed fifteen hundred ; but they were all disciplined
troops, and well equipped and supplied with necessaries.
Of the American army, but eight hundred were regulars.
The cavalry of the latter was, however, much the best,
that of the British being exceedingly feeble in numbers,
and deficient in that confidence in itself which alone in
sures the usefulness of this important arm of battle.
It was highly important that Greene, if he hoped to
engage the enemy, should do so before the junction with
Cruger should be effected. In that case, his strength
would so greatly preponderate as to leave the contest
hopeless. Cruger was on his march, and rapidly ap
proaching Orangeburg, only watched by the militia
under Pickens — -a force neither sufficiently strong nor
sufficiently practised to retard the advance of the British
detachment, consisting of twelve or fourteen hundred
men. To anticipate his coming, Greene appeared
within four miles of Orangeburg, and offered Rawdon
battle. The latter took no notice of the demonstration,

256 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
and the certainty of Cruger's approach compelled
Greene to move up with tho hopo of forcing his adver
sary to the deadly issue. But a careful examination of
Rawdon's position, determined him against the measure,
and, very reluctantly, and against the advice of many
whom he was disposed to respect, he withdrew from the
field. The temptation was not inconsiderable, but the
risk was still less so. He dared not peril unnecessarily
a cause which he felt that patience and caution must
eventually secure. Accordingly, withdrawing, by slow
and easy marches, he retired to a camp of repose among
the high hills of Santee, a beautiful and salubrious
region, where he gave to his wearied soldiers the rest
and respite which they so grievously required. Cruger,
meanwhile, reaching Orangeburg, so strengthened tho
command of Rawdon as to leave him in no pres
ent danger of a challenge from his enemy. The for
mer had not descended from Ninety-Six without
leaving his mark upon the country. Left at Ninety-Six
to cover the flight of the loyalist families, and while
.awaiting their assembling, he despatched a swarm of
tories, accompanied by a small regular force, into what
was called the Long-Cane settlement. This expedition
afforded to the vindictive loyalists a chance of striking a
last blow at their ancient enemies. Their ravages were
of a kind to afford a sufficient sanction to the assertion
that orders had been given by the British commander to
lay the country waste — a measure of wanton barbarity
which had no justification in necessity. They swept the
country with sword and fire, checked only by the timely
arrival of Pickens and Clarke, with their followers, by
whom the dastardly marauders were once more driven
to seek shelter under the guns of their British allies.
Pickens could only watch, and follow, and threaten.
His force was too small to retard the progress of an

THE ARMIES RETIRE INTO CAMP. 257
enemy whose aimless barbarities had entirely placed
him without the pale of humanity and mercy. The
junction of Cruger with Rawdon would have soon
brought the latter out from his place of security, in
search of Greene, but for tho timely retroat whicli
placed, the Congaree between the rival armies.

258 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.

CHAPTER XVIII.
Incursion of the Partisans under Sumter into the Lower Country. — Cap
ture of Dorchester. — Alarm in Charleston. — Attempt on the Post at
Biggins. — Abandoned by the British. — Pursuit of Coates. — Affair at
duinby Bridge. — Battle at Shubrick's.
A retrospect of the campaign just closed, affords us
a curious illustration of the caprices and fluctuations of
the war. We see Cornwallis, superior in strength and
eager for combat, pursuing the American general from
the Catawba river, in South Carolina, across the Dan,
in Virginia. We remark that, at the very moment of
the greatest seeming superiority in the former, he wheels
about and recedes before his adversary. We see that
adversary, conscious of inferiority, yet pressing on his
heels; and the combat which follows, while giving the
victory to the enemy, secures most of its fruits to the
defeated Americans. The game is again reversed, and
Cornwallis, the pursuer, is pursued, and finally escapes
to Virginia. Greene resumes his plan of invading South
Carolina and recovering its territory in detail. He
crosses weapons with Rawdon, is compelled to fly be
fore him, yet grows stronger from every defeat, seemingly
like the ancient wrestler, to receive new life and vigor
at every fall upon his native earth. His adversary pur
sues, until, in a state of exhaustion, he pauses for breath,
only to find his enemy upon his path again. .In the mean
while, his fortresses are taken by assault, or he is forced
to abandon them. Steadily and inflexibly the American
pursues his object. Retreat forms a part of "/us system,

THE CAMP OP REPOSE. 259
as in the case of the Parthian, and his followers are en
couraged even by seeming discomfiture, as it usually
results, under their present leader, in a large increase of
strength. His calculations have all been realized; his
schemes have been successful; he has conquered with
out loss : and, when baffled, it has been chiefly still at
the expense ofthe enemy. His very caution, which has
sometimes had the effect of lessening the brilliancy of his
exploits, has economized his forces, and left them assured
and confident of the wholesome authority which they
obey. His camp of rest upon the hills did not imply
repose. In this salubrious region, in which his soldiers
found refuge from the diseases of summer and the cli
mate, not a moment was consumed in idleness. The
combatants had separated for a season, only to recruit
the strength necessary to a renewal of the conflict. The
task before Greene was one of unremitting watchfulness
and study. His troops were suffering from sickness and
exhaustion. To refresh the whole, to restore the sick,
to accumulate clothes and provisions, and discipline the
inexperienced, were employments of the camp which
employed every hour of his time. There were other
cares of a more general and comprehensive character.
To invite the co-operation and assistance of the contigu
ous states, by earnest and frequent entreaty and expos
tulation — to suggest and indicate their measures — to
establish magazines in secure and convenient places —
to connect his several points of communication- — to
secure the means of transportation — these were tasks
which kept him wakeful through the weary watches of
the night.
"The repose of the regular army among the Santee hills
did not imply the inactivity of the partisans. It was one
of the chief uses of a regular army in South Carolina,
that it enabled the whig militia to rise into activity. As

260 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
the presence of a British army, in force, had overawed
the whigs and encouraged the audacity of the tories, so
the army of Greene, in due degree with its ability to
restrain and watch the movements of the British, gave
opportunity to the friends of the revolution to encounter
their ancient enemies. With the increase of popular con
fidence in the prudence and soldiership of the American
general, the partisan militia gathered to their favorite
leaders. These, accustomed to the climate, familiar
with the country, and mostly mounted, were capable of
rendering active service while the two opposing armies
were in summer-quarters. Accordingly, the moment
that Greene crossed the Congaree, on his march to his
camp of repose, he organized an expedition of the par
tisans, directing their operations in the lower country.
The command of this expedition was given to Sumter.
Under him were such chieftains as have not often been
gathered under a single leader. Marion and Lee, the
Hampdens, and Colonels Taylor, Horry, Maham, Lacy,
and others, gave ample assurances that the work in hand
would most probably be well done. The command con
sisted of all the troops of the state, of Lee's legion,
and a small detachment of artillery with one field-jiioce
— in all about a thousand men. Its object was to strike
at outposts, inspirit the whigs, and divert the attention of
Rawdon from the country above, by provoking his fears
for the security of that below him. In his orders to
Sumter, Greene writes : " There is no time to be lost.
Push your operations night and day. Keep a party to
watch the enemy's motions at Orangeburg, as they move
down. Should they move in any other direction, I will
advise you. Keep Colonel Loo and General Marion
advised of all matters from above, and tell Colonel Lee
to thunder even at the gates of Charleston," &c. .
Sumter's detachments were soon sweeping down by

MOVEMENTS OF THE PARTISANS. 261
every road that led to Charleston. He, himself, with the
main body of his force, pursued the Congaree, on the
south side of that river, then the east side ofthe Cooper.
The incursion, thus begun, was full of the happiest re
sults. For a while it prostrated every appearance of
royal power almost to the gates of the metropolis, and
drove the enemy from all quarters to seek shelter within
its walls. Lee made his appearance at a fortunate mo
ment before the post at Dorchester. It was a field ripe
for the sickle. The garrison had been greatly reduced
by the draught made on it by Stuart, and a bloody mutiny
among the residue, which was only quelled by the massa
cre of more than a hundred men, almost entirely deprived
the place of all power of resistance. At the approach
of Lee it was hastily abandoned, the garrison making
their escape to Charleston. The Americans succeeded
in seizing a valuable spoil, consisting of a couple of hun
dred horses, and some wagons of fixed ammunition. This
done, Lee, in connexion with Colonel Wade Hampton,
passing on to the east of Dorchester by the Wassama-
saw, to Goose creek bridge, cut off the communication
between Dorchester and Monk's corner, and between
the latter place and Charleston, by the route west of
Cooper river. A detachment of Marion's men, under
Colonel Maham, passing the head of Cooper river and
Watboo creek, penetrated below, eastward of Biggin
church, in order, by destroying the bridge over the
creek, to obstruct the retreat of the garrison at the latter
place. Meanwhile, the better to hold these several par
ties advised of any movement of Rawdon's troops at
Orangeburg, Colonel Henry Hampton seized and held,
with a strong party, the bridge over Four-Hole creek,
he, himself, moving off afterward to co-operate with
Lee. It would be difficult to conceive a plan of opera
tions better calculated to effect the objects of the expe-

262 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
dition. With the abandonment by the British of the
post at Dorchester, Colonel Wade Hampton, anticipating
the march of his confederate, Lee, dashed down the road
to Charleston, capturing more than fifty dragoons in the
march, and, suddenly appearing almost beneath the lines
of the city, spread terror and confusion within its walls.
With the conviction that Greene's whole army was at
his heels, the bells were rung, alarm-guns were fired, and
the entire population was mustered out in arms. Con
tent with thus disquieting them, Hampton retired, and
proceeded to unite himself with the force of Sumter.
Lee moved in the same direction, and with the same
object. The particular point at which Sumter aimed
to strike, was the post at Biggin church. This church,
within a mile of Monk's corner, was a strong brick
building which the British had fortified and ganisoned.
It covered the bridge which crossed Biggin creek, which
is esteemed the head of the West branch of Cooper
river. On the east of this creek the road to Charleston
passes Watboo and Quinby creeks, between which the
road forks and crosses the latter, considered the East
fork of the river, at two several points ; the left at Quinby
bridge, the right at Bonneau's ferry. From Biggin
bridge, the only route westwardly to Charleston, crosses
at Goose creek bridge. To destroy the bridge at Wat-
boo, was the object of the Americans, as the eastern
route then became impracticable. The bridge, accord
ingly, became the object of interest with both parties.
It happened, unfortunately, that Sumter, on his march,
received false intelligence of a British detachment ap
pearing at Mui-ray's ferry. This place lay without the
line of his march, and he lost time in sending a force
of three hundred men to strike at the hostile party.
Tho delay and the movement suggested the danger to
the ganison at Biggin's, and ga-se time for it to obtain

AFFAIR AT BIGGIN. 263
reinforcements. When Mayham, who had been sent by
Marion to destroy the bridge, drew nigh for this purpose,
he found the enemy in too much strength to permit him
to make the effort. He was obliged to wait patiently for
the approach of Sumter. The garrison at Biggin con
sisted of five hundred disciplined infantry, being the 19th
regiment, under Col. Coates, with a piece of artillery ana
a full complement of one hundred and fifty horse. On
the 16th July, Sumter marched up to support Mayham's
attempt upon the bridge. Reinforcing his party with a
detachment under Col. Horry, the command devolved
upon the latter, who instantly proceeded to the destruc
tion ofthe bridge. To prevent this, the enemy's cavalry
advanced, and were encountered with such rough hand
ling that they were driven back in confusion. The
Americans then proceeded t« their work, but were soon
driven off by the appearance of the British in such force
as to compel the retreat ofthe detachment to the shelter
of the main body. Under the impression that the enemy
had marched out to give him battle, Sumter retired to a
defile a little distance in his rear, which he had selected
as a favorable spot for receiving the attack. But the
purpose of the British colonel was more profound. His
object was to amuse his antagonist and wear out the day.
Retiring, accordingly, as the evening approached, after
such a demonstration as served to keep up the impres
sion that he was in search of a fight, he obtained the time
that he desired. Night came on, and it was only at three
in the morning that the flames bursting from the roof of
the church, declared the enemy to be in motion. He had
collected all his stores within the church, set them on
fire, and moved off by Watboo and Quinby, on the road
to the eastward
The pursuit was instantly begun, led by Lee and
Hampton. When the Watboo was passed, it was dis-

264 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
covered that the cavalry of the British, separated from
the infantry, was pursuing the road to the right. Hamp
ton struck off in pursuit of this body, and reached the
river only to find the enemy on the opposite side, with
all the boats in his possession. Darting back upon his
route, he arrived in season only to witness the escape
of their infantry; an event accruing, perhaps, in con
sequence of the diversion in pursuit of their cavalry.
This body of troops had been pursued by the legion
cavalry, seconded by that of Marion under Mayham.
About a mile to the north of Quinby bridge, they suc
ceeded in overtaking the rear of the retreating army,
with nearly the whole of the baggage. This division
of Coates's force, consisting of one hundred men, was
commanded by Captain Campbell. At first, they made
a show of resistance, but such was the furious charge of
the cavalry, that it overwhelmed them, and they threw
down their arms without firing a gun. This imbecility
had nearly involved the fate of the whole regiment.
Unapprized of their disaster, since not a shot was fired,
Coates, having passed the bridge, had made his disposi
tions for destroying it as soon as his rear had passed in
safety. The, planks which covered it had already been
loosened from the sleepers, and men stood ready to
throw them off at the proper moment. A howitzer at
the opposite extremity was planted for the protection of
the party assigned for its destruction, and the com
mander of the British force stood waiting impatiently
at the bridge for the coming of the rear. It was fortu
nate that he was thus prepared, and thus present, at the
place of danger. The American cavalry dashing into
view, instead ofthe British rear, warned him of his dan
ger, and found him ready to employ the proper means
for meeting it. His measures were promptly taken.
His main body was, at this time, partly on the causeway,

Affair nf Quimliy Bridsre.— Pac;n a«S.

AFFAIR AT QUINBY. 265
on the south side of the bridge, and partly crowded
into a narrow lane beyond it, in a position which not
only disabled them from present service, but left them
particularly exposed to destruction, should the im
petus of the American cavalry carry them across the
bridge. To despatch orders to his troops tf halt, form,
and march up, and to make his artillerists ready to em
ploy the howitzer, while his fatigue-party were opening
a chasm between his assailants and himself, by thrusting
the planks into the water, were necessities instantly con
ceived and as instantly set in motion. Meanwhile, the
American cavalry dashed forward. The legion cavalry
were in advance of Mayham's, their front section led by
Captain Armstrong. The planks sliding into the water,
and the lighted portfire beyond, hanging above the how
itzer, left no time for hesitation to a body of cavalry
densely moving along the narrow causeway in its range.
There was not a moment to be lost, and, driving his
rowels into his steed, Armstrong dashed over the bridge,
followed closely by his section, and drove the artillerists
from the gun. Lieutenant Carrington followed with the
second section, and the third advanced, but faltered.
Mayham, with Marion's cavalry, feeling the halt, charged
by it, but was anested in his career by the death of his
horse. Captain Macaulay, who led his front section,
pressed over the bridge to the opposite causeway
which was now crowded, hand to hand, with combat
ants. The British working party, snatching up their
pieces, had fled, after delivering a single fire. Two of
Lee's dragoons fell dead at the mouth of the howitzer,
and several were severely wounded ; but the leaders
were unhurt, and, contending with Coates and his offi
cers, who, covered by a wagon, were opposing them
with their swords, while the British troops were pres
sing forward to a spot in which they might display. A
12

266 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
fruitless and tedious endeavor, on the part of the Ameri
cans, to recover tho floating planks, and repair the
bridge for the detachment to cross, afforded to the en
emy sufficient leisure for tlieir objects ; and when Arm
strong, of the legion cavalry, and Macaulay, of May
ham's, looked about them, they found themselves almost
isolated from their own people, while the British, formed
in front, were ready for their destruction. It remained
only to urge their way headlong through the fugitives
along the causeway. Secure in the fact, that, while the
British officers in the rear would save them from the
fire of their troops in front, and pressing forward till a
secure footing could be found in the woods on either
side, they dashed to the right, and escaped by heading
the stream. Prepared to receive a charge of cavalry,
Coates renewed his labors upon the bridge, and suc
ceeded in its destruction. He then pressed forward to
the shelter of Shubrick's plantation, not daring to trust
himself in the open field with such an active and powerful
hostile cavalry about him. Here, in the cover of dwel
ling-houses, outhouses, and fences, he prepared to await
the approach of Sumter's infantry. The latter, com
pelled to make a considerable circuit, did not reach the
ground till three o'clock in the afternoon. It was Sumter's
opinion, that if the wholesome audacity of the first sec
tions of the cavalry had been sustained by the whole,
the British must have been overwhelmed. " If the
whole party had charged across the bridge, they would
have come upon the enemy in such a state of confusion,
while extricating themselves from the lane, that they
must have laid down their arms."
Sumtor found the British drawn up in a square, in
front of the house, and prepared for his reception. He
had few bayonets, and his policy was that of the brave
fellows at King's mountain, where the rifle was made to

ACTION AT SHUBRICK*S. 267
baffle this weapon in the hands of the enemy. His in
fantry was divided into three bodies ; his own brigade
constituting one, and that of Marion the two other divis
ions. The first was ordered to advance and seek shel
ter under a line of negro-houses which they were to
occupy. Marion's men, without any cover but the open
worm fence of the country, were to approach on the
right to the house of which the enemy were in posses
sion. The cavalry, for which there was no present use,
held a secure position sufficiently near to cover the in
fantry from pursuit. Sumter's men soon gained the
negro-houses, whence they employed their rifles with
effect. A fire from the fences on the British left, from
a small detachment under Colonel Thomas Taylor, drew
upon him a charge of the bayonet, which was not to be
withstood. As they yielded, however, the men of Mar
ion rushed to their assistance, and brought them off un
der a galling fire from the houses. Then, under the
imperfect shelter of the fences, they continued to fire
with fatal accuracy, so long as a charge of powder re
mained unexpended. They were then drawn off in
perfect order, having been almost the only losers in the
action. The battle was thus maintained from four
o'clock, and while the day lasted, the enemy firing from
the houses and within a picketed garden. The sun was
down when the assailants retired, the combat having
lasted three hours, to the exhaustion of all their ammu
nition. All that remained to them was a single wagon,
captured at Dorchester, and that was with the artillery.
Unfortunately, the powder, by some mismanagement,
had been sent to headquarters, and it was not so certain
that Captain Singleton, with the artillery, had anything
to spare. Of pewter-bullets, Sumter was assured that
there were plenty. The Americans were drawn off and
encamped at a distance of three miles from the scene

268 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
of action ; the cavalry of Lee and Marion being em
ployed to watch the enemy. The loss of the Americans
fell almost entirely on Marion's men, and occasioned
some bitter discontents among them. They alleged
themselves to have been the victims of a partiality
which had exposed them openly to the brunt of battle,
ivhile the troops of Sumter were carefully posted under
shelter. The British lost more than seventy men under
the deadly fire of the rifle. Their numbers were supe
rior to those of Sumter, but they were without cavalry,
and dared not advance from under cover.
The arrival of Sumter's artillery did not increase his
strength. It brought with it no supply of ammunition.
In the meantime, great discontents had arisen among the
Americans. The several commanders were at issue in
respect to the treatment they had severally received —
the militia were withdrawing, and rumors reached
the camp of the approach of Lord Rawdon, with all
his force, from Orangeburg. Sumter was compelled to
forego the prey almost within his grasp. But much
had been done by the expedition, in exciting the fears
of one class, the hopes of another, destroying the supe
rior reputation of the enemy, and capturing stores and
prisoners to a large amount and number. Among the
captures of great importance was the paymaster's chest
of Coates's army, containing seven hundred and twenty
guineas, the largest sum ever seen in the American
camp, which Sumter immediately divided among his sol
diers. It was not the least grateful characteristic in this
assault upon Coates, that it reassured the country on the
subject of the spirit still remaining and ready in the
state; that the troops by which it was made woro almost
exclusively South Carolina militia. The command was
dissolved by the exigencies of the occasion — Sumter
retiring across the Santee, and Marion into his brigade.

STATE OF THE ARMY. 269

CHAPTER XIX.
The Camp of the Hills.— Greene's Army and his Labor.— The Capture
and Execution of General Hayne. — Excitement of Greene and the
Camp. — Retaliation threatened. — Stuart in Command of the British
Army. — Successes of American Cavalry. — Greene's Army in Motion.
— Retreat of Stuart. — Takes Post at Eutaw. — Greene approaches.
In failing to destroy or capture the detachment under
Coates, the expedition, whose progress we have briefly
pursued, failed in one of the chief objects for which it
was undertaken. But something considerable was
gained, not less in compelling the abandonment of the
posts of Dorchester and Biggin, than in the lively effect
which the incursion produced in the minds of friends
and foes. There is no doubt that the party under
Coates ought to have been brought to submission.
Errors were committed, and openly charged against
particular officers, by which the failure was produced.
It does not belong to our narrative to inquire into this
subject, which it might be difficult at this late day to
analyze with any certainty. Though disappointed, in
some degree, Greene was satisfied with the moral effect
produced by the incursion, and longed for nothing so
ardently as to follow it up with other enterprises which
should confirm the wavering and the doubtful. Already
had much been done to paralyze the zeal of the loyal
ists, and to awaken the enthusiasm of the whigs. The
steady successes of the Americans, the gradual recovery
ofthe country, and the animated spirit of the partisans,
were all working to the most satisfactory results. The

270 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
' British auxiliaries were deserting them, and their foreign
troops, particularly the Irish, were either following tho
example, or exhibiting a more dangerous spirit of mu
tiny and disaffection. Could Greene have received the
proper succors, from Congress or the contiguous states
— men, money, horses, clothing — all of which were
needed to success — enterprise would have been easy
under the most grateful auguries, and success must have
crowned endeavor with so many elements of favor as to
sanction its impulses. But the whole system by which
the conscript militia was brought into the field, was un
profitable and unwholesome. The natural strength of
Virginia and North Carolina, to say nothing of Georgia
and South Carolina, was frittered away by miserable ex
pedients which led to nothing useful; and the American
general soon discovered that, for the future, as hitherto,
he must look chiefly to his own and the wretched re
sources of the country in which his operations were
taken. We shall forbear, hereafter, the monotonous
recurrence to these subjects of complaint, which, form
the chief burden of his correspondence, and for which
the necessities of every day afforded ample reason. One
half of his cares seem to have arisen from the necessity
of appealing constantly to those who would not hear, and
of entreating those who, possibly, could not grant. His
days and nights, when not actually in the face of his
enemy, pursuing, or retreating before him, were con
sumed in labors at the desk, by the midnight lamp : sug
gesting schemes of organization for the militia of the
states ; devising plans for operating against the British
in Virginia as well as in Carolina ; now organizing an
expedition against the enemy in Wilmington, and now
preparing defences against the Indians along the fron
tier, or persuading them to treaties of peace and amity.
For both purposes, Pickens had been employed with

STATE OF THE COUNTRY. 271
.the native militia, and his efforts had been singularly
successful. Ofthe cares ofthe commander ofthe south
ern anny, in restoring civil government, we can employ
general language only. It would be impossible, in the
compass of a single volume, to depict the details of that
terrible civil warfare which outraged humanity in the
Carolinas, and moved the people, like the sons of Ish
mael, to .raise the hands of violence perpetually against
their fellow-men. Greene, uniting his efforts with those
of Governor Rutledge — a highly gifted man, upon whom
South Carolina had conferred almost dictatorial powers,
and who was now with the army at the High hills of
Santee — contributed greatly to the restoration of civil
authority for which the recent successful incursion be
low had greatly paved the way. But it was not easy to
bring back the spirit of calm and peace, and subdue the
domestic tempest, which still, though somewhat curbed,
ran with too much riot through the land. Wrongs were
remembered for retaliation only, and, but for the firm
ness of the American general, co-operating with Rut
ledge, the recent progresses ofthe partisans in the lower
country would have covered the face of the land with
carnage and desolation. Angry with defeat, and ren
dered querulous and unwise by disappointment, the
British authorities gradually, with every new disaster,
gave to their policy a harsher character, which naturally
increased the vindictive feeling with which they were
regarded by the whigs. The train of events by which
those feelings were illustrated, of cruelties on the one
hand, and fierce retaliation on the other, must be sought
in other histories. It will suffice, in this place, that we
refer to one event, to which the domestic history has
always assigned a conspicuous place over all others of
a like description. This was the wanton • execution of

272 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
Colonel Isaac Hayne, by the British authorities, as a
deserter and a spy.
This event followed the incursion of the partisans into
the lower country. Their successful demonstration, at
the very gates of Charleston, drew Lord Rawdon to the
city, at the head of five hundred men. Colonel Stuart
was left in command of Orangeburg. Rawdon was, no
doubt, deeply mortified at the contraction of his sphere
of power, and Lieutenant-Colonel Balfour, the com
mandant of Charleston, as greatly mortified by the insult
offered to his authority when the flags of Taylor and
Lee were flaunted in his sight with an insolent defiance
which he lacked the ability to punish. Both of these
dignitaries, no doubt, beheld the rapid approach of the
hour when they should be expelled the country they had
so much abused, and, from the bitterness of defeated
pride, and an avarice which was arrested in the midst of
its greatest gains, arose a darker passion, which brooded
gloomily over its means of resentment. Unfortunately,
the docile fates brought them a victim at the very mo
ment which found this unholy passion most active in
their bosoms.
Colonel Isaac Hayne was a gentleman of good char
acter and family, a native of one of the parishes beyond
the Edisto. He was a person equally amiable in his
manners and above reproach in his morals. His offence
may be summed up briefly in a few sentences. He
came under the British authority, as a citizen, after the
surrender of Charleston. A proclamation of Cornwal
lis required all persons, whether taken in arms or not, to
receive a British protection. The requisition, as it
might imply a voluntary recognition of British authority,
was distasteful to Hayne, who consulted with his friends
upon the subject. They gave it as their opinion that he
might, without impropriety, receive the protection ten-

CASE OF COLONEL HAYNE. 273
deredhim — that the state was in the hands of the ene
my, — that he was in duresse accordingly, shadowed on
all hands by their power, and that such an engagement
implied nothing more than a forbearance, while under
their protection, to demean himself as an enemy. He
was the more ready to receive and recognise their argu
ments as, at the moment, his wife and children were suf
fering from smallpox, needing all his cares, and whom
his affections and his duty equally denied that he should
abandon. He took the required protection, and sub
mitted to the power against which he could not contend.
But circumstances changed. Cornwallis disappeared.
Rawdon was straitened, and forced to abandon his out
posts. The sphere of British operations was contracted,
and the partisans traversed the county in which Hayne
resided, without meeting any enemy who had power to
oppose them. The power to which he had submitted,
had disappeared. It could no longer afford the protec
tion which it promised. A new authority might pro
pose new terms of obedience, and he was only too well
pleased to find himself thus relieved from bonds which
he had felt as irksome and humiliating. He followed
the example of the partisans, drew the sword in the cause
of his country, rallied a goodly troop of his neighbors,
and took the field with spirit and success. With a de
tachment of Col. Harden's horse, he had succeeded, by
a sudden dash in the vicinity of Charleston, in capturing
a prisoner of peculiar consequence. This was General
Williamson, who has been called the Arnold of South
Carolina. Williamson was by birth a Scotchman, a man
rude and unlettered, but of some popularity in the upper
country. He had declared himself with the patriots in
1775, had been of service in quelling the movements of
that region, but in the subsequent successes of the enemy
had sane over to then- side. Captured by Hayne, hi»
12*

274 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
fate seemed to be inevitable. He could scarcely hope for
escape from the Americans, whose cause he had aban
doned and betrayed. The commandant of Charleston
was of course anxious to preserve him from this danger.
In his solicitude to do so, he despatched in pursuit all the
cavalry which could be found in and about Charleston.
An unfortunate indiscretion, — such indiscretion as usu
ally impairs the best qualities of the untrained militia
officer — enabled them to overtake the American squad
ron, and in the conflict which ensued, Hayne in turn be
came a prisoner to the British.
He was conducted to Charleston, where, without a trial
pursuant to civil or martial law, he was ordered to exe
cution. Lord Rawdon only remained long enough in the
city to witness the performance of the sanguinary deed,
when he sailed for England. It was in vain that he had
been petitioned by the inhabitants, without regard to class
or party. All that could be obtained was a respite
of forty-eight hours, "in consequence of the humane
treatment shown by you to British prisoners who fell into
your hands." The reason given for the indulgence suf
ficiently pronounces upon the crime of him who gave it.
It was while Greene lay at the High hills of Santee
that he heard of this execution. His feelings were
deeply roused by this event, the more particularly, per
haps, as it was tacitly assumed by the country that
Hayne was selected as the victim to appease the manes
of Andre. The hand of Greene had signed the death
warrant of the latter, and the stroke of retaliation, if it
were such, under which Hayne perished, was particularly
designed to goad and sting tho heart of the American
general. He seemed to feel its purpose to be such, and
gave way to one of those excessive bursts of indignation
to which those men are especially liable in extreme prov
ocation, who ordinarily keep their emotions under the

GREENE RESOLVES TO RETALIATE. 275
greatest subjection. Like Washington, Greene was a
man of strong feelings, and like him he had learned to
humble them in obedieuce to his will and his necessities.
At this time they burst their usual bounds, and he swore
to revenge tho wanton barbarity which had outraged all
the wonted securities of war. It was while a cartel for
the exchange of prisoners between the two armies was
in progress, and at a time when numbers of American
prisoners, under the same category with Hayne, were
undergoing free release from British dungeons, that he
was set aside for the sacrifice. And the matter with re
gard to himself was not only carefully withheld from
Greene, but from Major Hyrne, his agent for the ex
change, who was then temporarily residing within the
city. He was suffered to leave the city with the belief
that all of the prisoners were to be released, under the
exchange which had been negotiated, _/2«e only excepted,
one of whom Hayne was not.
The resolution of Greene to retaliate, was expressed
in his correspondence in emphatic language. To Marion
he writes: "I do not intend to retaliate upon the tory
officers, but the British. It is my intention to demand
the reasons of the colonel's [Hayne] being put to death ;
and if they are unsatisfactory, as I expect they will be,
and if they refuse to make satisfaction, as I expect they
will, to publish my intention of giving no quarters to
British officers, of any rank, that fall into our hands."
Ti» General Washington he writes : " I am determined
to retaliate, and as the enemy are indifferent about their
militia officers, I mean to retaliate on the British, as the
surest way to put a stop to a practice that can only serve
to gratify private revenge." Simultaneously with this
letter, he published a proclamation on this subject, which,
after stating in emphatic language the case of Hayne,
went on to say that this proclamation had for its purpose

276 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
to declare his intention " to make reprisals for all such
inhuman insults as often as they take place" — and fur
ther that " it is my intention to take the officers of the
regular forces, and not the inhabitants who have joined
their army, for the objects of my reprisals." Letters,
on the game day, were addressed to Lord Cornwallis and
Lieutenant-colonel Balfour, under whom the execution
of Hayne had taken place. To the former he writes
firmly but respectfully, saying, among other things, " nor
can I suppose your lordship can have a single doubt that
a people who have gone thus far in support of their lib
erties, will hesitate a moment to retaliate for every vio
lence offered to their adherents." His letter to Balfour
was in a different tone, and reiterated his determination
in the strongest language.
In all these proceedings, and this decision, he but re
echoed the single sentiment of his army. Without aknowl-
edge of what he had been doing, his officers met together
and addressed him a memorial, recommending retalia
tion upon all British subjects in his power. " Permit
us," concludes this document, " to add, that while we se
riously lament the necessity of such a severe expedient,
and commiserate the sufferings to which individuals will
necessarily be exposed, we are not unmindful that such
a measure may, in its consequences, involve our own lives
in additional dangers ; but we had rather forego tem
porary distinction, and commit ourselves to the most des
perate situations, than prosecute this just and necessary
war upon terms so dishonorable."
The list of signatures to this paper was headed by
that of Isaac Huger, and closed by that of William
Washington. Thero was but one known name of the
army not upon it, that of Lee, and he was absent on the
Congaree at the time of its preparation. These pro
ceedings awakened the fears of the British officers

THE TWO ARMIES. 277
They were followed up by the commitment to the pro
vost guard of several of their number, who had fallen
into the hands of Marion. A meeting of the British of
ficers in Charleston expressed their discontents to Bal
four, in language which compelled that petty despot to
open a negotiation with Greene on the subject of his
complaints and threats. Captain Barry, his secretary,
was appointed on the British side, by Balfour, with full
powers to discuss and adjust the difficulties between the
respective arms ; but circumstances were now in progress
which superseded the necessity even for retaliation, which
the more deliberate second thought of Greene, in milder
moments, made him anxious to escape. Could he have
laid his hands upon either or both of the true offenders,
Rawdon and Balfour, there would have been no relent-
ings. Their crime had been such as to take from hu
manity all the sting and pain which still follows even
upon the necessity of doing justice upon the criminal.
The question was finally referred to Congress, and be
longs to the many which were closed rather by the close
of the war itself, than by any special consideration of
the subject. We must return to the business of the
campaign. Stuart, left by Rawdon in charge of the British army
at Orangeburg, was not for several weeks in a condition
to move with his weary and discontented troops. Greene,
meanwhile, uncertain of his future objects, but not
doubting that the want of provisions would lead him to
the banks of the Santee or Congaree, took measures for
gleaning the resources of the country from before his
path, and transferring his harvests to the northern side
of both these rivers, thus increasing his own while cut
ting off the supplies of his enemy. The superiority of
the Americans in cavalry, enabled them very successfully
to perform this operation. At length, Stuart advanced

278 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
on the route to M'Cord's ferry, taking post on the south
side amid the hills near the confluence of the Congaree
and Wateree. Here, with two large rivers running be
tween, the two armies lay in sight of their opposing fires,
sharpening their swords for future conflict. The intense
heat of the weather prevented any present encounter,
while the barriers offered by the rivers secured each from
any danger of surprise. But the cavalry of the Ameri
cans were not inactive. Colonel Washington was de
tached down the country, across the Santeo ; the north
bank of the Congaree was swept by Lee. The latter
was sent to operate with Colonel Henderson, who had
succeeded to the command of Sumter ; the former to co
operate with Marion and Mayham, in covering the coun
try on the Lower Santee, striking at the detachments,
the convoys, and the posts of the enemy, between his
camp and Charleston, whenever opportunity offered.
Colonel Harden, meanwhile, with a body of mounted
militia, gathered beyond the Edisto, had it in charge to
traverse that region of country, and in like manner to
strike at and straiten the operations of the enemy.
Speaking of the performances of these several detach
ments, at this period, Greene asserts that " their charac
ter for enterprise was never excelled." Washington
soon succeeded in falling in with two parties of British
horse, which he dispersed, making fifty prisoners. Lee,
penetrating between the main body of the British and
his post at Orangeburg, and in sight of the latter place,
drove in, dispersed, and captured, several other parties.
His communications constantly interrupted, and his sup
plies cut off, Stuart found himself in sight of provisions
that he could not reach. He was compelled to draw his
resources from below. To render this easy, he formed
a line of posts — re-establishing that of Dorchester, and
erecting a new one at Fairlawn, at the head of naviga-

CONDITION OF THE AMERICANS 279
tion on Cooper river. From this point the route of
transportation to his headquarters was by land wholly ;
but with Marion, Washington, and Mayham, on the
watch at all points, his means of subsistence became
momently more and more precarious.
With his detachments thus engaged, Greene was anx
iously looking on every hand for the recruits and rein
forcements which had been promised him. His repeated
disappointments, hitherto, had somewhat reconciled him
to their recurrence. With the eight hundred Pcnnsyl-
vanians, under Wayne, which he had been led to expect
early in August, he must have overwhelmed his adver
sary, whose position left him entirely open to the
American general, should his strength ever enable him
to take advantage of the circumstance. But Wayne
had been diverted from Carolina to Yorktown. Greene's
North Carolina levies were sent to him without arms,
and he had none with which to provide them. A corps
of Georgians, one hundred and fifty in number, which
had been raised by Colonel Jackson, were all of them
seized with smallpox at the same time, fully one third
of them perishing with the disorder. Of three, thousand
five hundred North-Carolinians which had been prom
ised, less than five hundred made their appearance.
Seven hundred mountaineers, under Shelby and Sevier,
were to be with him by a certain day, and were already
en route for the scene of action, when, hearing exaggera
ted accounts of the successes of Greene in the pursuit
of Rawdon, they turned back, and wrote him, that they
presumed he longer needed their assistance. Sumter,
meanwhile, sick and offended, had retired from service,
leaving his command to Henderson, few in number and
grievously discontented.
But Greene's necessities were too pressing to permit
him to bror I long over his deficiencies. The state of

280 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
affairs at the north left him no time to deliberate. " We
must have victory or ruin," is the language of his impa
tience, addressed in one of his letters to Lee ; and he
adds, that to obtain the former he will spare notl ing.
Calling in his detachments, he broke up his camp at
the High hills, on the 22d of August, a season when the
heats are still quite too excessive, and the climate too
sickly, to make active operations either grateful or suc
cessful. Great rains had swollen the swamps and water
courses, and an approach to his enemy required a tedious
circuit to be made. He could only cross the Wateree
by ascending to Camden. It was by this route that he
reached Howell's ferry, on the Congaree, on the 28th.
Here he was advised that Stuart, hearing of the move
ments of the American army, had fallen back upon his
reinforcements, and taken post at the Eutaw springs.
The British had moved by forced marches, and it was no
longer in Greene's power to force him into action. Lee
was instantly pushed forward to watch his movements,
and Pickens, who had succeeded to the command ofthe
troops of the state, was ordered to advance, leisurely,
and take such a position as would enable him to keep an
eye on the British ganison still at Orangeburg. These
deliberate movements on the part of Greene, indicative,
as it were, of a want of confidence in his own strength,
had the desired effect on the British general. It had
been the fear of the American, that his adversary, taking
the alarm, would take his position too nearly to the gar
rison ofthe metropolis to bo approached with safety —
thus cutting off all the hope that he cherished of crip
pling him by a battle. Reassured by the cautious prog
ress of Greene, Stuart came to a halt, and as Marion
had recently disappeared from below, on one of his
secret expeditions, he withdrew his garrison from Fair
lawn, ordering the latter up to reinforce him fur the con-

PREPARATIONS FOR BATTLE. 281
fli ct. Greene, meanwhile, continued his march, still very
deliberately, and, encamped at Motte's, near the spot
which the British had recently abandoned. This cau
tious progress served to disguise his real desires, and to
dissipate the fears of his adversary. With the accession
to Stuart's strength of the garrison at Fairlawn, that of
Orangeburg being ordered to another, which was admi
rably chosen for supporting the main army, Greene per
ceived that his adversary was preparing for the chances
of a struggle. But the American general had sufficiently
concealed his real wishes, and lulled the British colonel
into a false security. The former, accordingly, was per
mitted to approach within a few miles of his position,
and Marion to form a junction with him, without any
suspicion ofthe fact being entertained in the camp of
the British. The order for Marion's junction with the
main army is dated the 4th of September, and on the
5th we find him seventeen miles above the enemy, and
in advance of his superior. On the afternoon of the 7th,
the army had reached Burdell's tavern, on the Congaree
road, Seven miles from the Eutaw springs. Here, hav
ing effected a junction with all his detachments, Greene
made his preparations for measuring swords, the next
day, with his antagonist. His baggage, tents, and every
thing that might delay or embarrass his movements, had
been left behind, at Motte's ; and, with the exception of
the tumbrils, the artillery, and two wagons containing
hospital stores and rum, not a wheeled carriage accom
panied the army. Greene's fare was that of the com
mon soldier. That night, which was to precede a des
perate struggle with his enemy for superiority, he slept
beneath the shade of an ancient China-tree, the huge
roots of which, bulging from the earth, yielded a natural
pillow for his head.

292 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.

CHAPTER XX.
Bat tlh of Eutaw Springs.
The memorable battle of Eutaw springs, by whicn
British supremacy was fairly prostrated in South Caro
lina, was fought on the 8th day of September, 1781
The American force, as we have seen, lay the night be
fore at Burdell's tavern, seven miles from the scene of
battle. It consisted of about two thousand men, while that
ofthe British, under Colonel Stuart, at Eutaw, was esti
mated at two thousand three hundred. The superiority
ofthe Americans lay in their cavalry — a superiority
more than counterbalanced by tho position which the
British occupied, which was that, measurably, of a forti
fied place ; and by the quality of their troops, which were
all well disciplined. Among their old regiments fought
a large number of American tories and deserters, who
added to the discipline of the regular service a rare
skill as marksmen, and whose stubbornness in the con
flict might safely be relied on, when the peculiar peril
in which they stood is considered.
It was at four o'clock in the morning that the Ameri
can army moved from its bivouac. It marched in four
columns, in the following order: The South Carolina
state troops and Lee's legion formed the advance, under
the command of Colonel Henderson. The militia both
of North and South Carolina, under the lead of Marion,
followed next. Then came the regulars, under General
Sumner : and the rear was brought up by Washington's

BATTLE OF EUTAW. 283
cavalry and the Delawares of Kirkwood, under the com
mand of the former. The artillery moved between the
columns. The troops were thus arrayed, and marched
in order of battle. The day was one of the most op
pressive heat, and the progress of the army was neces
sarily slow. But, up to the moment of its movement,
and, indeed, not until it was fairly in progress, did Stu
art have any idea of its approach, so completely had the
light detachments *ut off the communication ofthe Brit
ish with the country around them, capturing, on the
night before the battle, the only party which Stuart
seems to have sent out in the direction of his enemy's
approach. The British colonel appears to have been
remiss : but it is not improbable that, conscious of his
superiority, in numbers no less than position, he was not
unwilling to hazard everything on the chances of a gen
eral engagement. The moral of the British army, at
this time, required support from victory ; and the pres
tige of domestic authority was still more in need of iis
influence. Whether prepared or indifferent, the advance of
Greene seems to have operated as a surprise upon the
British general. So entirely secure did he feel himself
in his position, that, while the Americans were getting
under arms at • Burdell's, but seven miles distant, to
march upon him, he was sending forth a foraging party
of a hundred men, on the very road along which the
former were approaching. This was called a rooting
party. Its particular purpose was to root for supplies
of the sweet potato, then growing, of which the crop
was abundant throughout the state, and which, indeed,
constituted the chief vegetable in the fields at this season
of the year. Stuart was evidently thinking much more
of feeding than of fighting.
His foragers were already abroad, and some three

284 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
miles from camp, when a couple of deserters from the
North Carolina line made their appearance at Eutaw,
and communicated the startling intelligence of Greene's
approach. This was at six in the morning. Stuart im
mediately sent out a detachment of infantry and horse,
two hundred in number, under Captain Coffin, to recon
noitre the American position, and to cover and bring
in his foragers. The American advance had already
passed the road which the potato-seuekers had pursued,
when they were encountered by Coffin. He, ignorant
of the strength of this force, and not dreaming that it
constituted the advance of the army, which he supposed
to be still lying where it had been left by the deserters,
charged it with a blind confidence which resulted in his
defeat and dispersion. The report of firearms drew the
foragers out of the fields, and the whole of this party
fell into the hands of the Americans, with several slain
and wounded, and fifty prisoners, of Coffin's detach
ment. The audacity of Coffin, in thus boldly charging his
advance, impressed Greene with the belief that the Brit
ish army was at hand. The pursuit of Coffin, after the
dispersion of his force, had been forborne for the same
reason ; and thus it was, that, while Stuart was pushing
forward a detachment of infantry, a mile in advance of
his position, with orders to engage and detain the Amer
icans while he formed his men and prepared for battle,
the latter were ordered to a halt upon the march.
Greene was naturally desirous to secure as much time
for his raw troops as possible, in order that they might
form with coolness, and refresh themselves before the
conflict. Had less caution been shown, the detachment
of Coffin might have been entirely cut. off, as the arrival
of the fugitives at camp, had been so nearly simultane
ous with that of their pursuers, as to have secured to the

BATTLE OF EUTAW. 285
Americans all the advantages, in the conflict which en-
Bued, of a complete surprise.
The militia column of Greene, when displayed, formed
his first line. The South-Carolinians, in equal divisions,
occupied the right and left, with the North-Carolinians
in the centre. Marion commanded the right, Pickens
the left, and Colonel Malmedy the centre. Henderson,
with the state troops, including Sumter's brigade, cov
ered the left of thjs line, and Lee, with his legion, the
right. The column of regulars also displayed in one
line. The North-Carolinians, in three battalions, under
the several commands of Colonel Ashe and Majors Arm
strong and Blunt, occupied the right, and were mar
shalled by General Sumner. The Marylanders, under
Colonel Williams, were on the left. They formed two
battalions, commanded by Colonel Howard and Major
Hardman. The Virginians', forming two battalions also,
led by Major Sneed and Captain Edmonds, occupied the
centre, and were commanded by Colonel Campbell.
The artillery, consisting of four pieces, two three and
two six pounders, under Captain Gaines and Captain
Brown, were divided equally between the columns, and
moved severally with each. Colonel Washington, with
his cavalry and the Delawares of Kirkwood, as a re
serve, still marched in the rear, in column, with orders to
maintain his cover in the woods. In this order the army
moved steadily forward.
But the advance was necessarily slow. The country
on each side, being mostly in woods, presented continual
obstacles to the preservation of order. A cheerful
constancy marked the progress of the troops. The
day was clear and cloudless, and, but for the oppressive
heat of the September sun, the rays of which, in the
south, are perhaps more fatal to life than those of
any other season, the progress might have appeared an

286 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
advance rather to conquest than to conflict. The short
but spirited rencontre with Coffin's detachment was
encouraging, and full of pleasant auguries ; and the halt
and brief rest which they had taken, to say nothing of
certain free draughts of the then popular beverage of
rum and water, of which Greene had made sufficient
provision, had given them new impulse to press forward
in search ofthe enemy. The interval was not great be
tween the parties. The delay in the approach of the
Americans had afforded Stuart sufficient time for making
all his preparations. His advance, as we have seen, con
sisting of a strong body of infantry and a field-piece,
was thrown out a mile from his camp for the purpose
of- skirmishing with and retarding the American ap
proach. This division was encountered spiritedly by
the American first line, before which it gradually yield
ed. The opposing parties kept firing as the one ad
vanced and the other retired, until the British party was
received into its own line of battle, and the presence of
their whole force, with their artillery in the main load,
counselled the American skirmishers to disappear into
their proper places in their own columns.
The position of the British, strong originally for de
fence, was rendered move so by the judicious arrange
ment which Stuart had made of his forces. His troops
were drawn up in one line, the right of which was cov
ered by the Eutaw creek. This lovely little streamlet,
which issues from secret avenues of limestone, pursues
a stealthy course beneath high banks and a dense umbra
geous thicket. The ground on which the British line was
drawn up was entirely in wood. Their left, which " was
in air," employing the military language, was supported
by Coffin's cavalry, and a strong detachmont of infantry,
which was held closely in reserve, but at a convenient
distance, in the shelter of the wood. The only open

BATTLE OF EUTAW. 287
grounds in the neighborhood, were those which formed
the precincts of a plantation settlement and dwelling-
house, the cleared fields of which lay immediately in the
rear of the British position. The dwelling-house was of
brick, two stories in height, with garret-rooms, the win
dows of which commanded all the open space around.
This house was abundantly strong to resist the fire of in
fantry, and a garden in its rear, enclosed by a picket fence,
increased its facilities for defence, and afforded an excel
lent temporary shelter in the event of disaster. A large
barn, and various outhouses of wood, might also con
tribute to these objects. In the open ground, south and
west of the house, the tents of the British encampment
were left standing, while their line was formed for battle
in the foreground. The rear was in great degree cov
ered by the broken character of the country, deep thick
ets of the scrubby oak or blackjack, and occasional ra
vines. Where this was not the case, the land lay level,
but in the original forest, pierced only by the single great
avenue leading to the metropolis, and a narrow wagon
track to Nelson's ferry, on the neighboring river. The
British commander, in plain terms, had made the most
of his position. The right of his line was composed of
the third regiment, " the Buffs." The debris of several
corps, led by Cruger, occupied the centre, and the left,
having no natural advantage of position, was confided to
two veteran regiments, the sixty-third and sixty-fourth.
In the thickets by which Eutaw creek is bordered, a com
mand of three hundred picked troops was given to Major
Majoribanks, whose business it was to watch the Ameri
can flank, while guarding his own, and to take advan
tage of any opening in the former, which should invite
or justify attack. Major Sheridan, with a command of
infantry, was ordered to seize upon and hold the dwelling-
house at Eutaw, in the event of any misfortune, and from

288 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
this point to cover the movements of the army. The ar
tillery of the British occupied the main road. We have
nothing now to delay our progress, in passing to the
great struggle of the day.
The skirmishing parties driven in by the American
advance) consisting chiefly of the Carolina militia, Hen
derson's state troops, and Lee's legion, forming the
American first line), disappeared in the rear, leaving their
pursuers opposed to the whole line of the British army.
Stuart maintained his position, designing, as he found
himself opposed only to militia, to repel the attack with
out advancing. His anxiety was only felt at the approach
ofthe second or American line of regulars, for which he
wished to hold his men steadily and with firmness. But
the militia on this occasion were superior to that ordinary
class with which he had been accustomed to deal. They
might not be willing to stand the charge of the British
bayonet, for which no weapons or training had prepared
them, but they had long since learned in what manner to
stand fire. They were the men of Marion and Pickens,
leaders in whom they had perfect confidence, and who
never failed to extract good service out of them. Their
behavior this day was that of veterans ; and as the field-
pieces of Gaines were wheeled forward to answer the
bellowing thunders of those which confronted them from
the British line, along the road, the steady fire and keen
aim of the southern marksmen, continued to tell, with
fearful effect, upon their serried infantry, whose regular
volleys of musketry, with louder echoes, were yet very
far from doing the fearful execution which followed the
sharp crack of the deadly rifle. Stuart soon found that
he should vainly contend with such enemies, while he
occupied his original position. At the long arm, they
were more than a match, this first line of militia, for all
his army. It was with surprise and delight that Greene

BATTLE OF EUTAW. 289
beheld them advance with shouts of defiance into the
very blaze of the enemy's fire, unaffected by the fall of
comrades, and only seeking, with cool and resolute pur
pose, in what manner to avenge them. But the artillery
of Gaines, by this time, had been demolished ; one of
the enemy's four-pounders had shared the same fate.
The carnage on both sides was great, and the militia,
though counting their bullets, were receiving the unre
mitted fire of a line more than twice the number of their
own. A forward movement of the enemy at length
forced them to retire, but not until seventeen rounds had
been delivered.
General Sumner, with his three battalions of North-Car
olinians, was then ordered up to the support of the militia.
This corps was composed of new levies, but they had
been under discipline, and behaved handsomely. The
battle was resumed with all its former fury, and, with
the appearance of Sumner's division, Stuart was com
pelled to order into line on his left the infantry of his re
serve. The struggle was thus continued by fresh troops
on both sides — without, however, relieving some of those
who had been at work from the commencement of the
action. Such was the case with the infantry of the Amer
ican covering parties, both on the right and left of the
line. The legion infantry was engaged on the right with
the sixty-third ; while Henderson, on the left, with tho
troops of the state, had been thrown into the most ex
posed situation ofthe whole field, in consequence ofthe
American left falling short of the British right, and sub
jecting it to the oblique fire of a large proportion of this
wing of the enemy, together with that of the battalion
under Majoribanks, which was also in cover of the woods.
These were new troops, and their constancy was severely
tried. Henderson entreated to be permitted to charge
the enemy opposed to him, and in this way extricate him-
13

290 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GEEENE.
self from a fire with which he could not contend equally 5
but any such movement must have periled the flanks of
the militia, and exposed the artillery : and the brave colo
nel held his position, sustained with unflinching fortitude
by all his command, until he was disabled by a wound.
With the appearance of Sumner, and the resumption of
the battle, order was restored in his detachment, now
under the command of Colonel Wade Hampton, sustained
by Colonels Polk and Middleton, and they continued in
the fight until Sumner's brigade, after a noble contest,
yielded in turn to the fire of numbers much greater than
their own. The British had gained the advantage, but
it was only by bringing their reserve into action. All
their strength was now engaged in the melee, while the
greater part of the second line of the Americans, with
the whole of tlieir reserve and cavalry, hitherto unem
ployed, were wholly fresh for action. Of this fact, warmly
engaged in the excitement of the struggle, the British
line knew nothing. With the yielding of the American
centre before them, they concluded the victory to be
won, and, exulting in the prospect, they darted forth as
if to secure the prey. This was the very moment for
which Greene had been watching. Pressing forward
with loud shouts, the British line became disordered, and,
seeing his moment, the American general gave the or
der to the commander of the second line — " Let Wil
liams advance and sweep the field with his bayonets !"
The rival regiments of Maryland and Virginia, the one
led by Williams, the other by Campbell, rushed forward
with trailed arms to obey it. Reserving their fire, they
hurried on with shouts of exultation, and preserving
their order, while exhibiting the highest degree of emu
lation, they moved to the fatal charge. Within forty
yards of the enemy, the Virginians poured in a destruc
tive fire, when the whole line pressed forward to finish

BATTLE OF EUTAW. 291
the work with naked steel. With their advance the Brit
ish line showed symptoms of disquiet, and began to re
trograde in some disorder. At this lucky moment, the
legion infantry of Lee, on the extreme left, availing itself
of the exposure of the British flank, delivered a heavy
enfilading volley, and followed it up with a charge of
bayonets. This confirmed the apprehensions ofthe ene
my, and their left was thrown into irretrievable disorder.
But their right and centre still appeared immoveable.
It was now for the Marylanders to do what the Virgin
ians had rather precipitately done before. They threw
in a fatal fire of their whole brigade, and the panic which
already pervaded the British left extended to the remain
ing divisions. No troops ever camo nearer to the actual
crossing ofthe bayonet: so nigh were they, indeed, that
the opposing officers sprang at each other with their
swords. But the appearance of a conflict so desperate
was only for an instant. " The Buffs" alone stood firm
against the shock, and, for a while, the mutual thrust of'
the bayonet transfixed the opposing combatants in their
several ranks. But the fire of the Marylanders, followed
up by their desperate charge, swept away all opposition.
The whole line of the enemy gave way. The rout was
complete, the fugitives hurrying away to seek the shel
ter of the post already designated for this purpose, in the
event of disaster, while many, with a nameless terror,
sped forward to carry the tidings of defeat and dismay
to the very gates of Charleston.
The victory was now considered certain, but fortune
was about to exhibit one of those caprioes which are
supposed to prove her blindness. Many, who already
joined in the shouts of victory, were yet decreed to bleed.
The carnage had only commenced. Tbe Americans pur
sued the fugitive enemy to their camp. Here, however,
the British officers had made their stand. Here, as pre-

292 LIFE OF NATUANAF.L GREENE.
viously concerted, the dwelling-house had been convert
ed by Major Sheridan into a fortress, which he occupied
with a strong body of infantry ; while others were busy
in anesting the fugitives in their flight and subduing them
to order under the cover of the fences and pickets. Ma
joribanks, with his detachment of three hundred, still
stood firm under cover, in the thickets which border the
Eutaw, and where the extreme ofthe British right, stretch
ing considerably beyond tho American left, still betrayed
a reluctance to give way. They felt the protection af
forded them by his command, and were not insensible to
the superiority which they yet possessed over their enemy.
The two armies meanwhile — the American right pres
sing the British left, which no longer offered resistance
— were now performing together "a half wheel which
brought them into the open ground in front of the house."
Greene now saw that unless Majoribanks was dislodged,
the Maryland flank would be traversed by his fire. Or
ders were given to Washington to pass the American
left and charge the British right. Colonel Hampton was
despatched to co-operate with Washington. The latter,
however, had already proceeded in his charge ; and,
sweeping through the woods with his mounted men only,
was endeavoring to break through the dense and almost
impervious thicket in which Majoribanks found shelter.
While engaged in this endeavor, the fire of Majoribanks
was delivered with destructive effect, which emptied a
score of saddles, and brought down every officer but two.
Washington himself fell, his horse being shot under him,
and, while struggling to extricate himself, was bayonet
ed and taken prisoner. Hampton with his command
appeared at this moment, and, collecting the scattered
fractions of Washington's, renewed the desperate at
tempt, but with similar disappointment. His attempt
was followed up with more perseverance by Kirkwood's

BATTLE OF EUTAW. 293
infantry, before whose bayonets the detachment of Ma
joribanks slowly yielded, Btill holding their cover in the
thicket, and making for a new position, in closer neigh
borhood with the main army, with their rear protected by
Eutaw creek, and sheltered by the pickets of the garden.
At this moment the whole British line was flying before
the bayonets of the Americans. Their right had imbibed
the panic which had seized the left, and were in full
flight. Their course lay through their encampment.
The Americans were pressing closely at their heels, ma
king prisoners at every step ; and the sole hope of the
British lay in the possession which Sheridan had taken
of the brick dwelling-house which commanded the field
— in the compact front which Majoribanks still present
ed — and in the fact that some of the routed companies,
from the left, had made good their retreat into the pick
eted garden, from which, under a partial cover, they
could fire with effect. Even these positions were not
gained but with great difficulty. So keen and close had
been the pursuit, that detached bodies of the Americans
had reached the house before it was yet fairly occupied
by the men of Sheridan. An attempt to enter along
with them, brought on a severe struggle at the entrance,
in which, had the American party been sustained by the
appearance of their horse, as they should have been, even
this last resort of the British must have been taken from
them. The latter prevailed, however, succeeding in ef
fecting their own entrance and excluding their assailants,
while their sharp-shooters from the upper windows ef
fectually repelled the audacity of their pursuers. So
short was the time allowed them — so narrow was their
escape — that they could only secure the dwelling against
the Americans by shutting the door in the faces of some
of their own officeis. These were made prisoners by
the former. One of them was a dapper little gallant of

294 XIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
the British army, a great ladies' man, a wit, and some
thing of a Brummell. This was Major Barry, the secre
tary of Balfour, the commandant of Charleston. Bairy
fell into the hands of Lieutenant Manning, of Lee's legion.
Manning, finding the upper windows to be full of British
musketeers, about to measure his person with their muz
zles, did not scruple to seize Barry, and, before the as
tonished Briton could conceive his purpose, to hoist him
upon his shoulders. Thus covered with the scarlet of a
British uniform, with the person of one of their officers
completely covering his own, the lieutenant reasonably
calculated that he should interpose a sufficient physical
as well as moral reason why he should not incur the pen
alty of a shower of British bullets. It was in vain that
Barry inteiposed in the language of offended dignity :
"Sir I" said he, "sir, I am Henry Barry; I am deputy-
adjutant of the British army ; captain in his majesty's fif
ty-second regiment; secretary to the commandant of
Charleston, &c. ; major of," &c. " The very man I was
in search of," answered Manning; "I am delighted to
' make your acquaintance ! Fear nothing, Adjutant Bar
ry, fear nothing. It is my policy to take care of you,
and I am determined you shall take care of me : wo
must, in times like these, take care of each other."- The
Virginian succeeded in carrying off his captive upon his
back in safety.
It was at this moment that the fruits of the victory
were lost to the Americans. When the pursuing army
made their way to the British encampment, and found
their tents all standing, filled with " creature comforts"
of a character too tempting for a famished soldiery, the
business of pursuit was forgotten ; the object of strife,
the new perils which attended their position. They
were unequal to the temptation, and fell to, with fiercest
appetite, upon the unwonted luxuries of the British com-

Major Barry captured hy Lieutenant Manning.— Page SMI

BATTLE OF EUTAW. 295
ruissariat. They scattered themselves among the tents,
and eagerly seizing upon the food and liquor which they
contained, became in a short time utterly unmanageable.
Irretrievable was the confusion which followed in the
ranks of the American army. It was in vain that their
officers, exposing themselves to the British marksmen
firing from the windows, strove to extricate them from
their wretched predicament. But a few corps escaped
the pernicious attraction, from the baneful effects of which,
upon the army, it was difficult to perceive a remedy. The
tents were covered by the fire from the house. This
was fast thinning the American officers, whose sense of
duty prompting the sacrifice, passed from tent to tent in
the hope of bringing the soldiers to their duty. These
were fast becoming indifferent to the consequences of
their error. Greene was soon conscious of his danger.
He saw that, while the fire from the house swept the
encampment, Majoribanks, supported by Coffin's cavalry,
was watching his moment to engage in the performance.
His orders were extended for the legion cavalry to fall
upon and disperse the command of Coffin ; while the ar
tillery of the second line of the Americans, which had not
been dismounted in the conflict, together with a couple
of six-pounders which the enemy had abandoned in their
flight, were brought forward to batter the house in which
Sheridan had taken shelter. Unfortunately, the very ar
dor of those U whom this duty was intrusted was fatal
to its object. They had run the pieces so nearly lo the
house as to leave them commanded by its musketry. The
consequence was, that the artillerists had scarcely opened
their fire, which must have compelled the surrender of
the garrison, if properly directed, when they were all
swept away by the destructive storm of bullets which re
sponded from the house. The guns were left unmanned,
utterly abandoned, and, very soon after, a movement of

296 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
the detachment of Majoribanks threw them into his pos
session. The orders sent by Greene to Lee, for the dis
persion of Coffin's cavalry, did not find the former offi
cer, who was with his infantry. They were delivered to
Major Eggleston, with a detachment. He made the
charge with promptness and decision, but lacked the
force to make the proper impression on the command of
Coffin. The latter drove forward, and, but for the timely
arrival of Hampton, with his own and the remains of
Washington's cavalry, that of Eggleston would have
been scattered like chaff before the wind. An obstinate
struggle followed, hand to hand, in which the British
horse were finally driven back to the shelter of the in
fantry under Majoribanks. These lay perdu; and the
eager pursuit of Coffin brought the cavalry of Hampton
once more within reach of their destructive fire. The
American cavalry recoiled beneath it, were again re
pulsed and broken, and, availing himself of the moment
when they were seeking shelter in the woods, Majori
banks dashed out from his covert, seized the artillery, and
dragging it off in triumph, proceeded to feel with his
bayonets the tents where still lingered that remnant of
the American soldiers who were too inebriate for escape.
Greene, with the failure of his artillery, had called off
his forces. His army was soon rallied in the cover of
the woods ; and, though Stuart had now succeeded in
forming his line anew, he was in too crippled a condi
tion to venture beyond the cover of the house.

RESULTS OF THE CONFLICT. 297

CHAPTER XXI.
The American Army retires to the Hills of the Santee. — Its Condition and
that ofthe British. — The Movements ofthe Partisans. — Stuart at Wan-
toot. — The Fall of Cornwallis. — The Hopes it inspired. — Their Disap
pointment. — Greene marches for the Edisto. — Rapid Approach to Dor
chester. — Flight of the Garrison. — Stuart retreats. — Alarm in the British
Army. — The Americans take Post on the Round O.
Thus ended this obstinate conflict, in which both sides
claimed the victory : the Americans, because the enemy
had been driven from the field, and pursued to their en
campment ; the British, because, in the second struggle,
at the encampment, all the advantages lay with them —
the Americans being repulsed with* the loss of their ar
tillery. Thus far, the claims of both parties may be re
garded as very nearly equal. If, with a superior force,
the British deserve reproach for being driven from the
field, still greater is it to the discredit of the Americans
that they should have suffered the victory already in their
possession to be lost by misconduct or mismanagement.
Unquestionably the affair was mismanaged by the Amer
icans, and there was great misconduct. It is not within
the compass of a work like ours to discuss the degree
of censure which should apply to those having in charge
the duties which were slurred in performance, and the
mistakes which led' to the disaster. It is enough, in re
gard to our subject, to say that Greene succeeded in
drawing off his several corps in most respects entire.
Ho might still have renewed the battle with advantage,
and probably would have done so, but for the excessive
13*

298 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
heat of the weather, the intensity of which was such that
the soldiery might be seen to plunge, for water to quench
their intolerable thirst, into puddles which were deeply
discolored with the blood of their comrades. Content
with having driven his enemy from the field, and so crip
pled him as to make his further flight to the metropolis
essential to his safety, Greene retired for the present to
the place where he had spent the previous night, seven
miles from the field of battle. He halted on the ground
only long enough to collect and bring off his wounded,
and make ai-rangements for burying his dead ; and leav
ing Colonel Hampton with a strong picket to watch the
enemy, he withdrew to Burdell's, the only place in which
water could be found adequate to the wants ofthe army.
The losses of the American army, chiefly the result of
the second conflict in the open grounds, were very heavy.
Their returns exhibited a loss of one hundred and four
teen rank and file killed, three hundred wounded, and
forty missing — the aggregate exceeding one fourth of all
who marched into battle. The British acknowledged a
loss of three commissioned officers killed, sixteen wound
ed, and ten missing; of rank and file, eighty-two killed,
three hundred and thirty-five wounded, and two hundred
and forty-seven missing. And yet Greene brought off
from the field of battle four hundred and thirty prisoners,
not including seventy wounded which Stuart left behind
him when, the next day, he abandoned the Eutaws. The
American loss had been particularly severe in officers :
sixty-one of these had been killed or wounded ; of these,
twenty-one had died upon the field of battle — the gallant
Campbell, of Virginia, among them, dying in the arms
of victory — declaring himself " contented," when told
that the enemy were flying. The condition of Washing
ton's command particularly provoked the regrets and sor
rows of the American general, Their almost desperate

STUART RETREATS. 299
charge upon the thickets which covered the detachment
of Majoribanks was a proof of the most chivalrous self-
de\ ition. Visiting the hovel where their wounded lay,
the evening after the battle, his full heart forced from his
lips the apology — "It was a trying duty, but unavoida
ble. I could not help it."
Feeble as he was, scarcely less crippled than his ene
my, and exceedingly deficient in officers, of which he
had never been provided with an adequate complement,
Greene was by no means insensible to the necessity of
grasping all the advantages which must ensue from the
bloody struggle which was just ended. He reasonably
conjectured that' the necessities of his condition would
compel the British commander to abandon his position
and seek security in Charleston, or be compelled to call
up reinforcements from that place for the maintenance
of his ground. In order to baffle either purpose, Lee
and Marion were despatched, with instructions to cover
the avenues between, and cut off the retreat, or arrest
the reinforcements ; while Greene himself, in the event
of Stuart's flight, should press the pursuit, and try the
issue of another conflict. But Stuart was even more
crippled than the Americans had imagined. His exi
gencies admitted of no delay. Calling up the ganison
at Fairlawn to cover his retreat, he broke up his encamp
ment the day after the battle, destroying his stores, a
thousand stand of arms, leavinghis dead unburied, and sev
enty of his wounded to the mercy and care of the Amer
icans. His flight was so rapid as to elude the attempt of
Lee and Marion to cast themselves across his path — at
least before his junction had been effected with the rein
forcement from Fairlawn, which left them too inferior in
force to attempt to retard his progress. Greene, himself, at
ance joined in the pursuit, which was continued for a day,
out without overtaking his enemy. Finding the chase

300 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
fruitless, he determined to give his army a necessary rest,
and, after a short halt at the Eutaws, he returned once
more to the salubrious hills of the Santee.
Never was respite from toil more necessary. Critical
and embarrassing as had been his frequent situations, it
was never more so than immediately after the battle at
Eutaw. His militia had left or were about to leave him.
Of the North-Carolinians there remained but a hundred
men, and their term of service was at its close. The
South Carolina militia, under Marion, Pickens, Hamp
ton, and others, were necessarily detached for the pur
pose of covering the country ; and the army, now consisting
of continentals alone, was burdened with the duty of at
tending upon nearly six hundred wounded, one half of
whom were British : and this at the worst period of the
year — when tho heat was most excessive, when the acute
fevers ofthe climate* were most prevalent, and when ex
posure by night or day, however slight, was eminently
full of peril. Yet his wounded and prisoners were to be
conveyed by water through a region of malaria. They
were taken in boats up the Wateree, inhaling the fatal
miasma of the swamps through which they passed, and
suffering accordingly from their subtle and poisonous in
fluences. A muster at the American army at headquar
ters, ten days after the battle of Eutaw, could not have
shown a thousand soldiers fit for duty. Greene has been
reproached for moving from the " Hills," and attempting
the enemy's post, at so early a period in the season. But
we can not, at this late day, do full justice to his motives
and necessities. The movement was probably necessary
for the encouragement of his militia, and with the view
to drive the enemy from a region in which the now rap
idly maturing harvests enabled him to supply his ex
hausted granaries. It was probably taken with the ad
vice of Governor Rutledge, at this time in the American

GREENE'S CONDITION. 301
camp, a gentleman admirably informed in the condition
of the country, and to whose judgment Greene habitually
deferred in most local matters. Nor, indeed, when we
regard the consequences of the movement, have we any
reason to bo dissatisfied. If the American army was
enfeebled by the enterprise, its results were far more
hurtful to the enemy. If the regulars were prostrated
by sickness from taking the field in September, the mili
tia had been busy the whole summer, under Marion and
Pickens, exposed to still worse hazards. In all proba
bility the main army suffered rather by its previous re
pose, than by its subsequent activity ; since all experi
ence has served to show that, in a southern climate like
that of Carolina, the powers for physical resistance to the
approaches of disease are far less easily sustained by a
languid mode of life than by that which duly exercises
the body and maintains a proper vitality in the skin.
Greene's army needed numbers rather than health, not
suffering in this latter respect more than is ordinarily the
case with armies in midsummer, whether in action or in
camp. It was the militia system which kept him feeble,
rather than the climate, and, at this very moment we find
him complaining only of his numerical weakness, which
forbade the efforts which his military judgment rendered
him anxiously inclined to make.
His eye was still fixed with yearning upon the career
of Cornwallis in Virginia. The very day on which the
battle of Eutaw was fought, he received intelligence of
the operations of the northern army against his ancient
adversary, with the suggestion that, in the exigency of
the latter, he would endeavor, by a forced march through
North C arolina, to make his escape to Charleston. In this
event, how could Greene, with the skeleton regiments of
the southern army, anest his retreat ? It was this force
which alone would be relied upon for the attempt, yet

302 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
with what hope or prospect of success could it be used 1
Still it was necessary to prepare for the event ; and, feeble
as he was, Greene was well aware of the disastrous conse
quences which would result to the American cause, should
Cornwallis with his division succeed once more in making
his way into South Carolina. While mourning, according
ly, over his shattered columns, he yet meditated to throw
himself across the path of the British general at all haz
ards, holding him at bay, if possible, until the army from
Virginia could assist him in compassing the game. From
his camp at the hills he could dart at any moment in the
required direction, and this was a principal motive in re
suming his position at this point. Here he once more
resumed those toilsome and seemingly little-profitable
labors by which he hoped to arouse the contiguous coun
try to a sense of their duties and his necessities. The
governors, lawyers, and chief men, of the neighboring
states, were addressed with the thrice-told tale of priva
tion, and urged, with strenuous arguments and entreaties,
in behalf of new and energetic movements for the relief
and increase of the army proper. Again was the prayer
for reinforcements almost desperately urged in quarters
which had but too frequently listened with dull ear be
fore ; and thus passed the months of September and Oc
tober, with little relief to the monotony of labors which
were compelled by a sense of duty; but he was too often
mortified by repulse not to feel in the performance much
more weariness than hope.
Meanwhile, Stuart had recovered from his panic. The
report of the probability of Cornwallis's approach had
reached him also, and had prompted him to a demonstra
tion, which was perhaps quite as much intended for the
recovery of public opinion, as with the view to anymore
important advantages. Collecting reinforcements from
oelow, and strengthening his cavalry, he pushed the

STUART ADVANCES TO THE SANTEE. 303
American detachments from before his path, and once
more advanced upon the Eutaws. Marion and Hampton
were both compelled to retire across the rivers ; and the
apprehension was felt that, should he cross the Santee,
his power might be re-established. But he was proba
bly too feeble to venture so boldly, and the conjectures
with regard to Cornwallis gradually gave way to other
conclusions. Active measures were adopted by the gov
ernors of Virginia and North Carolina to arrest his flight
to the south ; and a movement of the loyalists in North
Carolina, which had probably been inspirited by the
reports in relation to Cornwallis, had been suppressed ;
while the subsequent evacuation of Wilmington lessened
the apprehensions of the whigs of that neighborhood in
relation to the future. The British army, meanwhile, in
South Carolina, had taken post at Fludd's plantation near
Nelson's ferry. Its strength at this place, increased by
reinforcements, consisted of more than two thousand men,
not including a detachment of three hundred at Fair
lawn under M'Arthur. In addition to this, the loyal
ists from the upper country had been enrolled, either in
dependently or with the British regiments, and formed a
considerable addition to their active infantry. Their cav
alry had now become superior to that of the Americans,
in consequence of the severe handling which the latter
had received recently ; and it was not until that of Sum
ter's brigade could be again brought together, with the
wounded infantry of Marion, Horry, and Mayham, that
the superiority of Greene in this arm could be restored.
For a brief period, accordingly, Major Doyle, who had
succeeded temporarily to the command of the British
force on the Santee — Stuart still suffering from a wound
received at Eutaw — exercised undivided authority over
the country south ofthe Santee and Congaree, and west
of the Edisto. He made hay during his brief period of

304 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
sunshine, sweeping off with greedy hands every negro,
young and old, that he could possibly gather into his
clutches in this extensive territory. The presence of
Marion, guarding every accessible point along the river,
alone arrested him in his paternal desire to extend the
same covering arms over the opposite region. To protect
the country as well as he could with his light troops, was
all that Greene could do. He had no force with which to
confront that of the enemy. We have shown his condi
tion ten days after the battle of Eutaw.
The approach of winter found it still more hazSrdous and
discouraging. His troops were wanting the absolute neces
saries of life — medicines were wanting — salt had failed.
For two years, the southern army had received no pay —
no clothing — were often short in the usual allowance of
meat and bread, and commonly subsisted without ardent
spirits. Symptoms of mutiny were actually beginning
to show themselves in camp, and a victim expiated upon
the gallows his impatience under sufferings which had
strictly followed the failure of the government to comply
with its contracts. Greene could only sympathize ' and
weep over misfortunes that he could not prevent. He
strove to soothe the sufferings of his people — shared
those sufferings — was early and late engaged in the work
of tendance and watching — now in the ranks, now at
the hospitals, encouraging by kind offices, entreating with
gentle arguments, and, with a thousand anxieties mov
ing him to querulousness and impatience, subduing his
own discontents that he might soften theirs. The supe
rior care of strengthening his army against the enemy,
and in becoming employment, was necessarily his worst
anxiety. Yet, in this work, he was constantly thwarted
by others who wero more considenito of the objects un
der their immediate eyes, than of those which were re
mote, however vital to the cause. We have seen how

CONDITION OF THE SOUTHERN ARMY. 305
small had been the regard shown by Congress and the
north to the army of the south. Greene was destined, in
his moment of greatest necessity, to suffer from another
proof of this selfish partiality. It was at the very moment
when the time of service pf the Virginia line was about
to expire, with not a single recruit from that state on the
march to supply its place, when he was advised that
his reinforcements from Maryland and Delaware, seven
hundred in number, had been arrested and embodied
with the army against Cornwallis. Yet these had
been regarded as absolutely necessary to enable him to
keep the field. He had voluntarily abandoned to Vir
ginia and Lafayette all other reinforcements. Yet, at
this very time, the New England states had a countless
multitude of troops on paper, myriads if we may believe
the chronicles, and there was actually a force of six
thousand Frenchmen operating with the army of Wash
ington and Lafayette against this very force of Lord
Cornwallis. Well might the officers and soldiers of the
southern army feel themselves abandoned, if not sacrificed.
"Why struggle longer — they have abandoned us — let
us yield the contest — let us retire." " Never," cried
Greene with a noble constancy of purpose, as the mur
mur reached his ears : — " I will deliver this country or
perish !" He was willing to meet all the peril, to make
all the sacrifice, to continue the almost hopeless-seeming
struggle to the last, unsupported, unassisted, if the strug
gle and the endurance were necessary for the safety of
the country, and if that country could do nothing better
for the cause. And yet he is compelled to remark in a
letter to Washington — "I am told your force in Vir
ginia amounts to little less than fifteen thousand men ;
if so the Maryland troops will be of little or no conse
quence." His officers and men were not equally patient
with himself, and one of his chief labors was to quiet

306 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
them. Fortunately, one of his subjects of anxiety was
soon to cease.
On the 9th of November, the grateful intelligence
reached the camp of the fall of Yorktown and the cap
ture of Cornwallis, an event which had taken place fully
twenty days before. The day was observed as a jubilee.
All punishments were remitted, all prisoners discharged,
and the few luxuries that were to be found in camp were
distributed with liberal hand, that no countenance might
remain darkened at a moment when the occasion was so
full of joy. It was now the hope of Greene that the
French fleet and army might co-operate with him in an
attempt on Charleston, and that the army which had cap
tured Cornwallis might be set in motion for the south.
But the co-operation of the French commander could
not be secured ; and, in respect to the northern army,
those who knew with what difficulty the New England
troops could be persuaded to approach Yorktown, could
have but little expectation of persuading them still fur
ther south. They constituted about one third of Wash
ington's army ; and the detachments sent to Greene were
drawn entirely from the contingents of Maryland and
Pennsylvania. These were confided to the command of
General St. Clair and Wayne. They were now compelled,
in midwinter, to traverse a weary extent of territory, and
when they reached the camp of Greene, which they did
not until the 4th of January, 1782, their number was less
by one half than when it crossed the Potomac.
Advised, however, of this promised reinforcement,
upon which he was taught to build largely, Greene felt
the necessity, at an early period in October, of resuming
active operations. He was able, during this month, to
replace the six-pounders which he had lost at the Eutaws,
and was joined about this time by Colonels Shelby and
Seviere with five hundred mountaineers; a detachment

MOVEMENT OF THE PARTISANS. 307
of one hundred and sixty North-Carolina recruits was
also added to his infantry ; his wounded were recovering
and able to take their place in the ranks, and the harvest
being in and the cool weather beginning to prevail, the
several commands of Sumter, Marion, and the other parti
sans, had been collecting around their favorite leaders.
The army once more began to assume that appear
ance of strength and order which promised usefulness
and demanded employment. Seviere and Shelby, with
Horry and Mayham, were placed under Marion, whose
scene of operations was the country between the Santee
and Charleston. Together they formed a very efficient
command of cavalry, mounted infantry, and riflemen.
Sumter, with his brigade of state troops, and some com
panies from his own, and tli£ militia brigades of Pickens,
was ordered to take post at Orangeburg, and to cover
the country from the forays of the loyalists assembled in
'Charleston. Pickens, with two regiments, traversed the
mountain frontiers, checking at all points the civil war,
which ever and anon flamed up in that quarter; and over
awing the hostile Indians'who were always in readiness
to rise.
These several parties soon found employment and were
kept watchful. Sumter's command was soon tasked to
anest the upward progress of General Cunningham, with
a strong body of seven hundred loyalists, whose aim was
to regain position in the upper country, and who, gain
ing some advantages over one of Sumter's detachments,
compelled the later to fall back to a position of greater
security. The force ofthe two parties being nearly equal,
they were employed for awhile as checks upon each other.
Marion was also brought to a halt by encountering Col
onel Stuart at Wantoot with a force of nearly two thou
sand men, a force quite too great to he attempted by a
command so inferior as that of our partisan. Stuart's

308 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
object was provisions and plunder. Anticipating the siege
of Charleston, naturally, as the result ofthe fall of York-
town, and the leisure which that event must afford to the
.army and the navy of the French, he was diligently ac
cumulating supplies; including, in this category, thousands
of slaves, who were useful in the laborious work of forti
fying the place, and, in the event of its fall, profitable as
plunder in the West India markets. The British were
still superior to the Americans in number ; but the mora]
of their army had been greatly impaired by recent events.
The affair at the Eutaws, had grievously lessened their
enterprise, while it had shown in the native militia an
audacity and hardihood, which greatly encouraged their
own, and the hopes of their leaders. With an ample
commissariat, Greene could have attempted boldly ; but
the very shifts to which his necessities reduced him were
of a kind to impair the virtues of his soldiers and to les
sen their efficiency in all respects. In the ordnance and
quartermaster's departments everything was wanting.
There was no ammunition — half of the troops were with
out tents — there were no axes, few camp-kettles, and,
until this period, no canteens. Mere valor, courage,
and constancy, in the soldiers, were of little avail under
these deficiencies. The moral sufficed to encourage tlieir
general in a bold demonstration, and his reliance was
rather upon this moral, and upon its inferiority in the
enemy, than upon any of the substantial resources by
which an army's victories are won. But it was useless
to repine at wants which no complaining could supply;
and it was Greene's hope to remedy, by energy and skill,
the defects of fortune. On the 18th of November, the
camp on the hills was again broken up and the army set
in motion for below. The line of march led by Simons'
and M'Cord's ferries, through Orangeburg to Riddle-
spurgers, and thence. by the Indian Field road where

RETREAT OF STUART. 309
that road crosses the Edisto to Ferguson's mill. The
design of Greene was to take post on the Four Holes,
for tne twofold purpose of covering the country beyond
him and controlling the operations of the enemy on his
right. To secure the army in this progress, Marion, sup
ported by Captain Eggleston with the legion, strengthen
ed by a detachment of the Virginia line, was ordered to
keep in check the force under Stuart. Without this se
curity on his left, Greene would scarcely have ventured
upon' a position so much exposed to an attack from
Charleston. But Marion was suddenly stripped of a large
portion of his detachment by the desertion of his mount
aineers, to whom, at this moment, the employment was
not sufficiently active, and^who, becoming discontented,
had gone off in a body. This was a loss of five hundred
men at a moment's warning, and after a service of three
weeks, in which Fairlawn was captured, and the tributary
posts on Cooper river disquieted by frequent demonstra
tion, to which the disappearance ofthe mountaineers put
a sudden finish. But for the vast proportion on the sick
list of the British troops under Stuart, the flight of the
mountaineers would have seriously compromised the safe
ty of Marion, operating as he did in the neighborhood
of the post which the former occupied.
Fortunately for Greene and Marion, the movement of
the former across the Congaree, had alarmed the British
general for his own safety. He seems not to have sus
pected the feebleness of the one or the difficulties and
deficiencies of the other, and no doubt still apprehended
from the appearance of a French fleet upon the coast.
He was prompted to strike his tents and draw off toward
Charleston. This movement, evincing a complete ignor
ance of the condition of the Americans, and a conscious
ness of his own weakness, encouraged Greene to an enter
prise which was calculated to confirm all the false impres-

310 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
6ions of the enemy, and, by forcing him within the walls of
Charleston, to secure possession of the whole country
without striking a blow. This was an important object,
as, at this very juncture, Governor Rutledge was about
to re-establish the American authority by calling the
legislature into existence. Proclamations were already
issued for the general election of members.
Confiding the army, still on its march, to the care of
Colonel Williams, Greene moved briskly forward on the
route to Dorchester at the head of four hundred men,
cavalry and infantry. The cavalry consisted of Lee's
and Washington's commands, and a hundred men from
Sumter's. The infantry, including detachments from
the lines of Maryland and Virginia, was that of the legion.
Greene flattered himself with the hope that, in addition
to his other objects, he should surprise Dorchester. For
this purpose he scattered his cavah-y abroad with the view
to cut off intelligence, covering as large a space in his
front as possible. With the same object he pursued dif
ficult and obscure routes, by swamp and unsuspected
paths, wherever these could be found. But, in spite of
these precautions and the celerity of his movements, the
garrison at Dorchester was apprized of his coming. There
were too many lurking tories in the swamp thickets,
too many outlying negroes, who knew the value of such
intelligence, not to seek for its reward. The tidings of
his approach reached the British twelve hours in advance
of himself. They lay on their arms at Dorchester all night,
and, on the next morning, despatched a reconnoitring
party of fifty loyalists which foil into the hands of Colonel
Hampton's horse, who suffered few to escape. The re
port of the fugitives, brought out the whole body of the
British cavalry at the post. These were accompanied
by a strong detachment of infantry. Hampton soon ap
peared and darted upon this force consisting chiefly of

ALARM IN THE BRITISH ARMY. 311
loyalists. They shrunk from the encounter and succeed
ed in making their way back into the garrison; but not
without losing, killed, wounded, and taken, some thirty
of their number. The presence of "the commander of
the American army at once inspired the garrison with a
belief that his whole force was approaching. Witli this
conviction, they destroyed their stores that night, flung
their cannon into the Ashley, and commenced their re
treat for Charleston. Destroying a contiguous bridge in
their flight, they arrested the pursuit of Greene, who, in
deed, was by no means inclined to press it, since the in
fantry of the enemy, alone, exceeded five hundred in num
ber. They halted at the Quarter-house, less than six
miles from Charleston, where they were joined by Colonel
Stuart with his command. Here, active preparations
were begun for the purpose of resisting the advance of
the Americans. Rumor had So magnified the strength
of Greene, that, in addition to the regiments which could
be spared from the garrison at Charleston, the British
general Leslie proceeded to the desperate measure of
enrolling and arming the negroes. They were stripped
of their uniforms as soon as the panic was at rest.
Greene had attained his object. No demonstration
could have boen more brilliant or more successful. His
ruse had completely deceived the enemy. At this mo
ment wheft Stuart was flying before him, when Leslie
was marshalling into line, in very desperation, his sable
regiments, the American general had not in camp eight
hundred men, and, after supplying with ammunition his
different detachments, the army had not four rounds left
to a man. Well had he deserved the applauses which
this enterprise procured hirri. Williams writes : " Your
success at Dorchester would make your enemies hate
themselves, if all circumstances were generally known;
and the same knowledge would make your friends ad-

312 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
mire the adventure even more than they do." This was
the sentiment of the army. General Washington, wri
ting to Laurens of the affair, remarks: "This brilliant
manoeuvre is another proof of the singular abilities which
that officer [Greene] possesses."
On the 7th of December, Greene rejoined his army
which had taken post at Saunders' plantation on the
Round O. He now made his arrangements for keeping
tho ground which he had won. Marion, advancing still
nearer to Charleston, kept the right of the enemy in
check; Sumter, occupied Orangeburg and the Four-Hole
bridge ; W. Hampton with a detachment of state caval
ry kept open the communication with Marion ; Colonels
Harden and Wilkinson watched the movements of the
enemy along the tract of country lying between Charles
ton and Savannah ; while Lee, in command of the light
detachment, posted in advance, kept him from prying into
the real weakness of the American army. To watch and
wait was all that could be done at present, and while
the ammunition of the army did not suffice to fill the car-
touch-boxes of the soldiers. It was a redeeming circum
stance that Greene was now encamped in a fertile region
where rice was in abundance, and where the ranges for cat
tle were excellent. Here he had room and time for medi
tation. His thoughts, those excepted which belonged to
a consciousness of cares firmly borne and duties faith
fully performed, were not of the most grateful descrip
tion. His reinforcements under St. Clair and Wayne
had not yet made their appearance, and advices were
received of a British fleet from Ireland, with three thou
sand troops on board, within two days' sail of Charleston,
to be followed by another force of two thousand from
New York. There was no reason to discredit this in
telligence ; and Greene at once felt that any such force
in his present circumstances, would expel him from the

Greene's reflections at round o. 313
country. His labor seemed to have been taken in vain.
Again the necessity rose before his imagination, for the
renewal of all those toilsome marches and countermarches,
those anxious days and nights, and weeks, and months,
of watch, and vigilance, exposure, trial, suffering ; the
defeat of hope, the mockery of expectation; the constant
disappointment of cherished anticipations, and the as
frequent defeat of well-laid schemes ; which had followed
from the miserable system which had decreed him to the
manufacture of bricks without an adequate supply of
straw. The. British were at work restoring their fortifi
cations, collecting provisions, organizing the loyalists, in
corporating the slaves into their ranks, preparing, in short,
for a desperate and final struggle which, in the event of
their expulsion from the other states, would leave them
secure in the possession of Georgia and Carolina. In
the presence of these facts, Greene conceived the idea
of recruiting his regiments with negroes also. He had
witnessed their fidelity to their masters, their patient do
cility, and, with a knowledge of their capacity for physi
cal endurance, as well of the climate as of ordinary labor,
he assumed that discipline would do the rest in convert
ing them into valuable soldiers. His proposition was
submitted to the governor and council and through them
to the legislature. It was rejected by that body, and the
American general was forced to cast about him for other
means of encountering his enemy. Fortunately, his mind
was soon relieved in regard to these reported reinforce
ments. The formidable body of three thousand troops
from Ireland was diminished to some sixty artillerists ;
while the force from New York, consisted of two regi
ments with a squadron of dragoons one hundred and
fifty in number. Greene took heart. Though disquiet
ed at any addition to the enemy's strength, while his own
14

314 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
remained as feeble as before, he was determined to main- '
tain his ground against the present army of the British.
He declared himself in his letters resolved to fight, and
so to fight, as, if beaten, {o " make the wounds of the en
emy sufficient to prevent his pursuit."

CHANGE OF BRITISH TACTICS. 31*5

CHAPTER XXII.
American Attempt on the British Post ot John's Island. — Its Failure. —
Second Attempt. — Withdrawal of the Garrison. — The Legislature ns-
semhles at Jacksonborough.— Its Character. — Governor Rutledge. — His
Speech. — Compliments Greene. — Address of the Senate and House of
Representatives to Greene. — The latter Body votes him Ten Thousand
Guineas. — Liberality of Georgia and North Carolina.
The drawn battle at Eutaw, in spite of all the subse
quent struggles of the British, was really fatal to their
power in Carolina. It broke down their spirit, dimin
ished their resources, discouraged their friends, and, in
due degree, increased the energy and enthusiasm of their
enemies. From this period the real endeavors of the
British leaders and their tory allies seem to have been
addressed to the acquisition of spoils. Anticipating the
approaching necessity which should compel them to aban
don the pleasant places in which they had luxuriated so
long, they proceeded to " borrow from the Egyptians" in
a style less courteous than that which the Israelites em
ployed. The movement of Stuart toward the Santee,
and that of the loyalists about the same time toward the
upper country, were designed for like objects, and hence
the importance of the demonstration made by the Amer
ican general, in his rapid progress toward Dorchester.
The effect of that progress was to arrest the spoiler in
his employment ; to force him to forego the further hope
of plunder in the region which he then occupied, and to
hurry below with his sick and woundod, crowding them
into the already crowded limits of the city. The forces

316 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
of the British were now cooped up within the narrow
limits of "the Neck" — the suburb of the city lying be
tween the rivers Cooper and Ashley, and extending some
six miles only into the country — and the islands which
lie adjacent to the metropolis. Their whole army had
really become only a garrison for Charleston.
To diminish this area by all possible means, Greene
conceived the plan of expelling them from John's island,
where they still maintained a considerable detachment
under Craig. This measure was conceived to be neces
sary, in order to give proper security to the legislature,
now about to assemble at Jacksonborough. This little
village lies on the Edisto, and within easy striking dis
tance from the island in question. John's island, in ad
dition to the detachment under Craig, was guarded at
every accessible point by galleys carrying guns of heavy
calibre. It was ascertained that there was one point of
approach to the island, which, at certain periods of the
tide, was accessible. Here, at low water, the passage
might be forded ; and, to cover this point, two well-
manned galleys had been stationed within four hundred
yards of each other. It was also ascertained that the
passage was not watched with any great degree of vigi
lance, and the attempt upon the island was confided to
Colonels Lee and Laurens. The enterprise was one of
difficulty and peril, and the movements of the assailing
party were required to be made at night. To divert the
attention ofthe enemy from tho real point of attack, the
main army moved on the 12th of January, 1782, on the
route to Wallace's bridge. Two light detachments, mean
while, under Laurens, crossing the country from Ashley
river, headed the north branch ofthe Stono on the night
of the 13th, and advanced to "New-Cut," which is at
the head of the south branch. The main army, which
had halted on the night of ihe 12th, as if for the purpose

ATTEMPT ON JOHN'S ISLAND. 317
of encampment, was, however, once more put in motion,
soon after dark, and, following the route of the light de
tachments, with the view to supporting them, reached the
New-Cut before the hour of low water, at which period
only is the ford passable. Here Greene found his at
tacking party in a state of embarrassment. This select
body of troops had been separated into two columns on the
march, Lee's column being in advance, and Laurens in
person accompanying it. The other column was con
fided to Major Hamilton, and, not moving at the same
time with the former, a guide had been left with it to
show the route. No mistake was apprehended, but the
guide disappeared while on the march, having probably
lost his way, and being ashamed or afraid of the conse
quences of his error. The column under Laurens was
passed over to the island, in the meanwhile, in perfect
safety, and there awaited the approach of that under Ham
ilton. It was not in sufficient strength to attempt the assault
without the support of its associate, Craig's force being
well posted, numbering five hundred men, and covered
by the galleys, which, in the event of an alarm, could ef
fectually cut off the retreat ofthe assailants and prevent
them from receiving help by the only avenue of approach.
And this avenue was about to be closed. The tide was
now rising, and nothing had been done. It became neces
sary to recall the detachment of Laurens, before its retreat
should be cut off, and the order to this effect, delayed to
the last possible moment, was at length reluctantly given.
The tide was now running breast high, and a few min
utes' longer pause would have compromised the safety
of the party. They recrossed, vexed and disappointed,
just as day was breaking, and had scarcely regained the
main when they discovered the lost column straggling
into sight, having been wandering about all night in the
vain effort to resume the road from which it had igno-

318 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
rantly gone astray. The annoyance was equally great
to all parties. It was one of those mischances, however,
which occasion no reproach. . The best zeal and cour
age are thus sometimes thrown away, through ignorance
or want of fidelity in inferior agents.
But the object was quite too important to be aban
doned without another effort. The garrison might be
destroyed ; it was necessary that it should be removed,
and there were spoils of value to be acquired. Here the
British had their pastures, and a large number of cattle
had been accumulated, which would be quite as useful
to an American as a British commissariat. Greene re
solved on forcing his passage to the island. A boat was
brought on wagons, and, while his artillery drove the gal
leys from the station which they occupied, was launched
by a party under Colonel Laurens, who passed over to
the island. He penetrated to Craig's encampment, but
the bird had flown. The British had become acquainted
with the narrowness of their escape the night before, and
had fled, but so precipitately as to leave several strag
glers ; while the schooner which they had laden with their
baggage, and a hundred invalids, had nearly fallen into
Laurens's hands. Their cattle had been driven across
the river to the opposite island, or were scattered in the
woods. The enterprise had been only in part successful.
Carried out as it had been planned, the affair would
have been equally brilliant and profitable. Still, the
purpose of Greene had been attained : the post had been
wrested from the enemy, their field of operations circum
scribed, and all chances of peril to the legislature, during
its proposed session, from any sudden enterprise of the
British, were fairly at an end.
The assembly at Jacksonborough convened on the 18th
of January. The civil authority of the state was estab
lished under the protection of the army. For that mat-

OPERATIONS IN GEORGIA. 319
ter, it was as much a military as a civil body, the mem
bers, in the majority of cases, being those who had car
ried and still continued to carry arms, in defence of the
country. Greene took post with the army at Skirving's
plantation, six miles in advance of Jacksonborough, on the
road leading to Chiirlcston. This was on the 16th, two
days before the opening of the session. He had, a few days
before, been joined by the long-expected detachments un
der St. Clair and Wayne. The Virginia line had been
dismissed, and the reinforcements did little more than sup
ply their place. Believing, however, that the war was
virtually at an end in South Carolina, and that its close
would be a simple act of withdrawal, at an early period,
of the remains of the British power from the country —
assured, at all events, that, with the force which he pos
sessed, and the partisan militia, he should be quite able
to maintain his ground against the present strength of the
British within the state — Greene determined to direct
his attention to the recovery of Georgia. The enemy at
this time possessed no foothold in the interior of Georgia.
His possessions, after the fall of Augusta, had been chiefly
confined to the seaboard. His vessels swept the coast
from Charleston and Savannah to St. Augustine, without
impediment; but his only garrisoned posts in the coun
try, besides Savannah, were at Ebenezer and Ogeechee.
Of these he was soon dispossessed by the partisan militia
under Twiggs and Jackson ; but the country was still
traversed by armed bands of tories, and parties from
Florida, mixed savages and whites. To strike at Savan
nah, which was the centre of strength and energy to
these wandering parties, and to disperse these parties
also, Greene despatched General Wayne, soon after his
arrival in camp, with a force consisting ofthe third regi
ment of dragoons and a detachment of artillery. He was
to assume command of the American army in Georgia.

320 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GEEENE.
Hampton's cavalry was also placed at his disposal, and
the militia of Carolina along the Savannah river, under
General Barnwell, were ordered to co-operate with him
whenever called upon. It was impossible, with the in
feriority of his own army, to do more for the sister state
than he had done. He was considered as perilling him
self and the legislature, by stripping himself of these de
tachments ; the more particularly, as the assembling of
this body, within hearing of his posts, had given great
offence to the British general, who only waited for rein
forcements " to resent the insult of convening the legis
lature to sit and deliberate within hearing of his reveille."
It is not within our province to review the legislation
of this assembly, at this renewal of its civil obligations, un
der the peculiar circumstances in which we find it placed.
That the members should have legislated in all respects
temperately and wisely is scarcely to be expected at this
juncture, laboring as they did under a thousand excite
ments and provocations, and fresh from the army with
out venturing to unbrace the sabre from the side. The
convocation of this body had become necessary for the
restoration of civil order, for the raising of supplies, the
organization of the militia, the very safety of the army.
It was necessary, also, with regard to the anticipated
evacuation of the city, for the prevention of waste and
plunder. For two years the government of the state,
where the country was not in the grasp of the enemy,
had been solely confided to the individual will and judg
ment of John Rutledge, its governor. Powers had been
conferred upon him to see that the republic sustained no
harm. The large discretion thus confided to this remark
able man, were in no instance abused or suffered to rust
from non-user. He had traversed the country at all pe
riods, in all difficulties, shared the perils and fortunes
of the army for many months, and exercised an equal

RESTORATION OF CIVIL ORDER. 321
constancy and ingenuity in enduring privation and pro
viding against emergency. Ho brought to the necessi
tics of the army the sanction of the civil power, and rec
onciled to many ofthe extremities of martial service the
high-spirited and impatient volunteers, who are but too
apt to suspect the military arm of tyranny and injustice.
To restore the power which he had swayed to the peo
ple from whom it was obtaiued — to render an account of
his administration — to recall the exiles to their homes
— to encourage them with hopes of peace and indepen
dence — to organize the links of society once more — to
bring back obedience tq the laws, and reconcile .with
prosperity and order those liberties for which all the
struggle had been taken — was, equally with Greene and
Rutledge, a duty and desire. Their responsibilities had
been no less heavy than their distinctions had been high ;
and it was with feelings of equal pride and relief that
they welcomed to the halls of council the citizens who
had been so long scattered abroad in dismay and appre
hension. The long interval between the fall of Charleston, in
17S0, and the present moment, had been one of terrible
vicissitudes and the most humiliating necessities. The
state had been overborne in the conflict; their regular
troops cut up in frequent conflict, and finally made cap
tive ; their partisan militia still maintaining the unequal
conflict whenever the odds of the combat would allow,
and, under favorite leaders, preserving the spirit of lib
erty and a determined resistance, without other motive
than the love of country ; and this without pay, or pro
visions, or clothing, or any supplies needful to the spirit
as well as the strength of a soldiery. They had seen
their brethren in exile and captivity — wandering as fu
gitives in swamp and thicket, seeking to elude the blood
hounds set upon their path by the conqueror, or crowded
14*

322 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
by thousands into the narrow hold of the prison-ship,
sweltering with heat and pestilence, and perishing of tho
most loathsome diseases. Armies furnished by their sis
ter states of the south had been cut off by the rashness
of tlieir generals; other armies had been barely kept
alive and in safety by a prudence that dared venture
nothing in the inferiority of their numbers, and in the
neglect of those authorities which failed to provide for
the necessities of their starving and naked regiments.
But courage and perseverance, constancy and patriot
ism, had at length succeeded in enduring and in triumph
ing over all. The bow of promise was arched above the
land, and the billows of invasion were slowly but cer
tainly receding from the shores on every side. Well
might the noble partisan lift his forehead as he passed
from the camp to the council-board, with the gratified
sense of a duty well performed and a peril nobly defied
and undergone. Nor were the soldiers who met on this
occasion, to restore to South Carolina the aegis of law
and order, merely men of arms and blood, stem and res
olute, with wills made stubborn by habitual authority, and
souls set only on its retention and maintenance. The
body which assembled at Jacksonborough were men sin
gularly distinguished for talent and moderation ; they
were citizens first and last — soldiers only under the exi
gency which denied that they should be citizens of a free
state. No people could have assembled in better spirit
or temper, more disposed to be considerate of the claims
of others, or more indulgent even to their enemies. That
they erred in one respect seems to be admitted ; but we
are scarcely in the situation now to determine ofthe ne
cessities which at that period compelled men to put on
the severe aspects of resentment and indignation, partic
ularly as Ihe enemy still threatened from his fortresses,
and still tbe outlawed tory, leagued with the hireling sav-

GOVERNOR'S ADDRESS. 323
age to desolate the frontier. If the legislature of Jack
sonborough seemed to be vindictive in one of its meas
ures, we are not to forget the extent of its provocation,
and tho dangers which still beset the country, and ren
dered severity to some the source of security to others,
who might otherwise have provoked punishment by pre
suming on indulgence.
The governor, in his opening address — a masterly
performance, which reviewed the history of the interim
with a comprehensive and impartial judgment — conclu
ded with a high eulogium upon the conduct of Greene
and the troops under him. " I can now," said he, " con
gratulate you, and I do so cordially, in the pleasing change
of affairs, which, under the blessing of God, the wisdom,
prudence, address, and bravery, of the great and gallant
General Greene, and the intrepidity of the officers and
men under his command, has been happily effected." He
urged the claims of Greene " to honorable and singular
marks of our approbation and gratitude." — "His suc
cesses," continued the orator, " have been more rapid
and complete than the most sanguine could have ex
pected. The enemy, compelled to surrender or evacu
ate every post which they held in the country, frequently
defeated and driven from place to place, are obliged now
to seek refuge under the walls of Charleston and on the
islands in its vicinity. We have now full and absolute
possession of every part of the state ; and the legislative,
judicial, and executive powers are in the free exercise
of their respective authorities."
The tone and spirit of the governor's eulogy on Greene
were met by a corresponding sentiment on the part of
both houses of the legislature. They expressed them
selves in terms of equal praise and gratitude. The sen
ate declared itself " impressed with a high sense of the
eminent services" which he had rendered to the county

324 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
and unanimously voted him their thanks, in behalf of tho
state, " for the distinguished zeal and generalship which
he had displayed on every occasion, particularly during
the last campaign." They expressed themselves sensi
ble of the many disadvantages under which he took com
mand ofthe army ; and that it was to his " superior mili
tary genius and enterprising spirit were to be attributed
the blessings" which their people now enjoyed — the res
toration of their country, and the securities of a free con
stitution. The house expressed itself in like manner, but
gave an additional proof of its gratitude by originating a
bill " for vesting in General Nathanael Greene, in con
sideration of his important services, the sum of ten thou
sand guineas." This liberality was of great importance
to Greene. He was poor. He had left the smithy for
the camp. His paternal property, originally small, had
not improved in value during his absence, and, in fact,
his private resources had been consumed by the exigen
cies of his public station. He was probably, when this
grant was made, not worth a copper in the world. The
gift of South Carolina, the spontaneous acknowledgment
of her gratitude for his services and sacrifices in her cause,
came to him at a seasonable moment, to lighten his heart
of its anxieties, and relieve him of the harassing doubts
which prompted him continually to inquire of himself,
from what quarter, the war being over, should he find
the means to support a large and growing family. But
the liberality of South Carolina was fruitful of other
and similar results. It furnished the proper example to
Georgia and North Carolina. These states were not to
be outdone, though anticipated, in generosity. The for
mer voted to him five thousand guineas, and the latter
twenty-four thousand acres of land.

WAYNE IN GEORGIA. 325

CHAPTER XXIII.
The State of the Army. — Wayne's Victories in Georgia. — Discontents
among the Troops of Greene. — Treachery of Soldiers of the'Pennsylvn-
nia Line. — Their Detection and Punishment. — Continued Distress and
Sickness of tho Army. — Movements of the British. — Marion defeats
Fraser. — Affairon the Combahee. — Death of Laurens. — Pickens punishes
the Tories and the Indians.
Leaving the legislature free to pursue its delibera
tions, and heedful only to make it secure while doing so,
Greene continued to watch his enemy with a patient anx
iety that suffered nothing of consequence to escape his
attention. The British afforded him very few opportu
nities for enterprise. His resources were quite too small
to suffer him to attempt anything of magnitude, and they
gave him but few provocations to activity in minor mat
ters. They no longer exhibited that impatient desire for
performance which had marked their character in the
previous campaign, and their endeavors were confined
to small predatory incursions, for the collection of plun
der or provisions. The war was really transferred to
Georgia. Here Wayne was acquiring laurels daily, pres
sing the enemy on every hand, cutting off his supplies,
and sweeping the loyalists from before his face with an
unsparing besom. In a little while the British were con
fined entirely within the precincts of Savannah ; and the
Georgians, following the example of South Carolina, re-
oiganized their legislative assembly at Ebenezer, within
hearing ofthe British reveille at Savannah, and under the
protection ofthe American army. The result of Wayne's

326 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
activity was shortly to compel the evacuation of Savan
nah, an event which increased the number of Greene's
enemies in Charleston, since the garrison of the former
city, nearly a thousand men, was transferred to the latter.
This event rendered necessary the return of Wayne's
troops to South Carolina, where, during the progress of
events in Georgia, affairs had begun to assume a less en
couraging aspect. A variety of unfortunate incidents,
which may all be traced to the positive weakness of the
army in Carolina, had subjected Marion's command, in
the absence of that general ut headquarters,' or in attend
ing on the legislature, to some vexatious reverses ; the
result of which was, to lay open the whole country from
the Edisto to the Santee to the incursions of the enemy.
This region of country had been confided to the keeping
of Marion's brigade. In Marion's absence, the brigade
was under the command of Horry. A question of rank
between this gentleman and Colonel Mayham, who was
ranked by Horry, led to the absence of that cordial co
operation between the two which alone could insure the
usefulness of the command. Before this quarrel could
be settled, the British had obtained several slight suc
cesses over some of the parties of the brigade, and finally
in Mayham's absence wjth his horse, the brigade itself
was surprised and dispersed at Wambaw, by a sudden
movement from Charleston, up Cooper river, of a strong
detachment of horse, foot, and artillery, under Colonel
Thomson, afterward the celebrated Count Rumford. A
subsequent attempt upon the cavalry of this detachment,
made by Mayham's horse, under the lead of Marion, was
wholly unsuccessful, arising from an unhappy error of
the officer who led his column to the charge. Marion's
force was thus temporarily dispersed, with a serious loss
in arms and horses. His presence, however, sufficed to
bring them once more around him in considerable iium-

LAW PROHIBITING IMPRESSMENTS. 327
hers, and to restore confidence among them. The ap
proach of Colonel Laurens to his assistance, with a de
tachment from the army, soon compelled the British to
retire, with the stock and provisions which they had been
able to procure, and which, quite as much as the attempt
on the brigade, had been the object of the expedition.
General Leslie, indeed, had begun to be exceedingly
straitened in Charleston by the cordon which had sepa
rated him from the country. He had been already com
pelled to butcher the horses of a large portion of his cav
alry, which he was no longer in the condition to feed ; and
his enterprises were scarcely prompted by any object more
inspiring than that of a present necessity. There was
no longer, indeed, a motive for enterprise, beyond the
support of the garrison. The British ministry were evi
dently about to forego a contest of which their people were
heartily tired. The approach of peace was scarcely to
be doubted, and it is not improbable that Leslie's instruc
tions were to economize his strength and resources, and
peril nothing further in a conflict in which the hope of
triumph was at an end. An occasional foraging party
issued from the garrison of Charleston, and, having
snatched up its prey, hurried back to the shelter of their
lines with a rapidity which mostly mocked pursuit.
The winter wore away in this manner. The legisla
ture of South Carolina, meanwhile, had adjourned. John
Mathews had been elected a governor in place of Rut
ledge, who retired. Mathews was friendly to Greene
and to the army ; and so, indeed, were most of the mem
bers composing the assembly. It was not, therefore, with
any wish to embarrass the operations ofthe army, that a
law was passed prohibiting impressments. This put an
end to foraging. To provide the army with all necessa
ry supplies, the governor was empowered to take order.
A law was enacted requiring that he should, from time

328 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
to time, appoint a sufficient number of fit and proper
persons, in different parts of the state, as agents or com
missioners, to procure their supplies. All other persons
were strictly forbidden to do so. It was no doubt ne
cessary to arrest the unlicensed foraging, which but too
much prevailed, under the alleged necessities of the army,
to the distress and impoverishment of the country. But
the support of the army was thus made to depend up
on commissioners appointed by another authority than
that which could determine upon its wants, and who,
if incompetent to perform their duties, could only be
removed by the appointing power. Meanwhile, the sol
diers had no means of procuring supplies. If the com
missioner failed them, they must starve and suffer. The
commissioner did fail them. In a little time the army
was in great distress. The troops were frequently with
out provisions. Greene remonstrated with the governor,
but could not shake his confidence in the jierson he em
ployed. The army continued to suffer, soothed by en
treaties and occasional full supplies, or subdued by se
verities, which their impatient discontents seemed to
provoke. They could plead, in mitigation of their of
fences, the extremity of their wants. Their nakedness
and wretchedness might well excuso their excitements.
A very large proportion of them were actually without
clothes. The tattered fragments were kept together by
thorns of the locust, their substitute for pins and needles ;
and happy was the wretch who could piece his rags with
the refuse of others, better clad, which his better fortune
threw in his way. The old troops of Greene bore up
bravely under their privations, but the additions to his
army, brought by St. Clair, were not calculated to im
prove its morale. The Pennsylvania line was composed
of the very mutineers who had triumphed over govern
ment in the Jersey insurrection. There was in it, in-

ARMY ENCAMPED AT BACON'S BRIDGE. 329
deed, one of the sergeants who had been put in com
mand of the regiments in that mutiny, with a number of
others of like character who had deserted from the Brit
ish while he had possession of Philadelphia. These
wretches were ripe for any mischief, and they were suffi
ciently practised to refine upon it. The soldiers, brought
to the verge of mutiny before their arrival, by their dis
tress and misery, were not helped by their connexion.
We shall shortly see the fruits of it.
With the adjournment of the legislature, the army of
Greene moved from Skirving's down to Bacon's bridge,
on Ashley river. Here he was within twenty miles of
the enemy, within striking distance, and accessible by
land and water. His securities from any enterprise of
the British lay in the latter's sluggishness and his own cau
tion rather than Greene's strength. He was yet to appre
ciate the element of mischief, within his own camp, of
which he had certainly made no calculation while esti
mating his securities. But, with the opening of spring,
it became obvious that a new life was beginning to pre
vail in the Charleston garrison. Greene was well pro
vided with spies in that city, some of whom, indeed, were
persons of no small notoriety. The vigilance of Marion
had made this provision, and his judgment of character
had secured him against deception. These were now
busier than ever, since there was much to report, the se
cret of which they could not wholly fathom. A new
spirit was evidently at work in the British army, signifi
cant of objects of importance which could not yet be con
jectured. Designs were on foot upon which large cal
culations were founded. There was an organization of
troops, mostly picked men, under select officers. The
note of preparation was sounded keenly, though in sub
dued accents, and all things betokened an enterprise on
foot which showed that, if compelled to give up their

330 . LIFE OF NATHANAEL GEEENE. ,
conquests, the British were not unwilling to crown the
humiliating necessity by some redeeming and brilliant
performance. .
These movements were all conveyed to Greene. He
readily conjectured their import. He was sensible equally
of the condition of his army, and of the demoralizing
influence which had been at work, for some time, to im
pair its usefulness and increase its discontents. He was
by no means ignorant of the refuse character of a con
siderable portion of his late reinforcements. Besides, he
was no longer surrounded by those veteran troops who
had traversed with him, in weary march and counter
march, the wildernesses of North Carolina — who had
fought with him at Guilford, at Hobkirk's, and at Eu
taw. His well-tried officers were with him no longer.
Williams had returned to Maryland ; Howard still suf
fered from his wounds ; Wayne was still gathering lau
rels in Georgia ; St. Clair had obtained leave of absence ;
the partisans were all operating in detachments ; Marion
on the left; Pickens among the Indians, while Sumter
had retired in disgust. .The legion of Lee was almost
stripped of its officers, Leo himself having retired, like
Sumter, in disgust and dissatisfaction.
Greene felt his danger from his deficiencies. These,
at once, led him to suspect the source and secret of his
danger, and of the enemy's projected enterprise. His
fears were still more enlivened by the discontents and
bickerings among many of his remaining officers. Re
viewing his condition, the materials of his army, its ne
cessities and discontents, and the various signs which
could not entirely escape him, his quick instincts asso
ciated the designs of the British with the discontents
among his troops. But how these were to operate, ho
had no knowledge. He could only renew his diligence,
his watch, his circumspection, and put in exercise all the

MUTINY OF THE PENNSYLVANIA LINE. 331
agents upon which he could rely for security against mis
hap. Meanwhile, treason was busy in his camp. His
Pennsylvania mutineers, such as had been conspicuous
in Jersey, had opened a communication with the enemy,
Their discontents were known to the British, and their
promises and demands were heard with greedy attention.
They were to sell Greene and his army — what the price
and what the process, have never been accurately known
— and the object was quite too important to the desper
ate cause of the invader to make him scruple at the
scheme, or the conditions upon which it was to be pros
ecuted. Sergeant Gornell was at the head of the con
spiracy. He had entered upon it with equal skill and
secrecy. He seems to have been an adept in the busi
ness, and his plans were almost matured for execution.
A day was fixed upon when a mutinous demonstration
of the Pennsylvanians was to be covered and counte
nanced by the sudden appearance, in force, of the British
army. We have seen that the preparations ofthe latter
were of a nature to render the scheme successful, should
it once be permitted to attain full ripeness in the Ameri
can camp.
Fortunately, it was destined that such should not be
the case. The conspirators had grown insolent from im
punity, and, in degree as they became confident of suc
cess, they grew careless of the means of security. Their
mutinous language reached the ears of their superiors,
and increased their vigilance. An attempt to work upon
the fidelity of the Maryland line, was the first clue to
their secret machinations, and the keen ears of a woman,
one of the followers of the camp, arrived at other clues,
which conducted to the conspiracy. ' This was all that
was required to enable justice to decide upon her vic
tims. The vigilant eyes of Greene had already fastened
upon the doubtful persons, and his prompt decision and

332 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
becoming rigor strangled the treason on the eve of exe
cution. Putting his most trusted troops in order for tho
enemy, he sent a despatch to Marion to hasten to the
camp with all the force that he could muster, and, at the
same moment, the hand of arrest was laid upon the con
spirators. Gornell, and several others, were brought
before a court-martial and tried for their crimes. The
former was condemned and executed. Four other ser
geants of the same line were sent under a strong guard
into the interior, and twelve soldiers broke away that
night, apprehending arrest, and made their escape to the
enemy. Almost simultaneously with these events, the
British horse made their appearance, hovering about the
outposts of the American camp. They succeeded in
capturing ten of the legion- cavalry, which unexpectedly
encountered them ; but they failed utterly in securing
the contemplated and more important prey. The great
preparations of General Leslie came to nought, and his
detachment sunk back once more under cover ofthe me
tropolis. Nothing accrued to him from this deep and
well-planned conspiracy, which was effectually crushed
by the blow which fell upon the offender at the proper
moment. The mutinous temper ceased among the
troops, though their causes for complaint were by no
means lessened. Their wants were still of a kind which
we must suppose could only have been borne by those
whose crude virtues were sustained by a spirit very far
superior to that which belongs to fear. Still were they
compelled to suffer the want of adequate food and cloth
ing, and as the sultry heats of summer began to prevail,
their distress was aggravated by the diseases of the cli
mate which now rapidly began to spread through the
camp. This was unavoidably transferred to a sickly re
gion. As the necessities ofthe service required, Greene
gradually drew nigher to the metropolis. In April he

SICKNESS IN CAMP AT ASHLEY HILL. 333
had moved from Bacon's bridge to Beach Hill, a distance
of but seventeen miles from Charleston. In July we
find the army at Ashley hill, and still nearer to the Brit
ish garrison. This position, which favored the objects
of the campaign, was yet in the very heart of the malaria
influence. Here the rich swamps and teeming fields in
which the rice crop flourished, assailed with deadly en
mity the more delicate organization of the white man,
and with every breath he imbibed the subtle poison of
an atmosphere in which the African alone could luxu
riate in safety. Yet here, amid severest suffering, the
army remained throughout the summer. The camp be
came a hospital. Greene himself was prostrated by the
fever, as well as most of his officers and men in turn, and
all of them agreed that a conflict with thrice the number
of their foes, in open field, under the worst circum
stances, was infinitely preferable at any time to the hu
miliating and exhausting struggle with a danger to which
no courage or strength could offer itself without discom
fiture, and which no degree of Caution could escape.
But the partisan militia were not allowed to remain
with Greene duringthis season of sickness and prostration.
Marion, about the middle of July, having consolidated
his regiments, was enabled to cross the Santee, and take
post on the Wassamasaw, another region equally liable to
the pernicious malaria influences of the low country.
Here, his employment was to cover the country, and co
operate, when necessary, with the main army. But the
increase of strength which General Leslie had acquired
by the transfer of the ganison of Georgia to the metrop
olis, now enabled the latter to assume an aspect of greater
activity. He proceeded to arm a numerous fleet of small
vessels, with a strong body of troops. These, convoyed
by galleys and brigs-of-war, issued from Charleston, des
tined, as it was thought, to operate against Georgetown

334 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
To this place Marion was accordingly ordered. But the
enterprise of the enemy took another direction. Their
object was plunder and provisions. They penetrated
the south Santee with this object, and gleaned largely
from the rice along the banks of that river. Marion,
meanwhile, had rapidly thrown his cavalry across the
Sampit, so as to intercept them in their anticipated march
to Georgetown, the public stores and provisions of which
he proceeded to place in security. He had left behind
him a small body of infantry at Watboo, which, as his
absence with the cavalry was known, attracted the atten
tion ofthe British. But the famous partisan was not un
mindful of his flock. The enemy did not make sufficient
allowance for the rapidity of his movements. He was
back among his infantry, in waiting for their approach,
while they thought him busy on the Santee. Attacked
by Major Frazier, early on the 29th of August, at Wat
boo, he totally discomfited him in a brief conflict, in
which the British suffered severely. They were only
saved from the rapid pursuit of Marion's horse, by the
timely appearance of a strong detachment of infantry,
before which Marion himself was compelled to retire.
Another detachment of the British foraging fleet was
sent to penetrate the Combahee. General Gist, with his
light brigade, was ordered to cover the plantations in this
quarter. It was while in command of a detachment of
this brigade, that the gallant Colonel Laurens, one of
the most remarkable and highly endowed of the young
men of the Revolution, met his death. Hearing of the
British movement, and of the duties assigned to the
light brigade to which he was attached, he rose from a
6ick bed, on which he was scarcely convalescent, and hur
rying away to the southward, succeeded in overtaking
the brigade which was already on the north bank of the
Combahee river. At the head of a command which he

DEATH OF LAURENS. 335
had eagerly solicited, he fell at the first fire, while char
ging a superior force of the enemy, in a skirmish which
took place at Chehaw point ; an event which could not
have happened had the despatch which Gist sent to ap
prize him of the unexpected superiority of the British
detachment, not failed to reach him in proper season.
Greene deeply lamented the fall of this brave young
man, who has received the title of the "Bayard of the
Revolution." He writes to General Williams : "Lau
rens has fallen in a paltry little skirmish. You knew his
temper, and I predicted his fate. The love of military
glory made him seek it upon occasions unworthy his rank.
This state will feel his loss."
This precious life might have been saved. The petty
skirmish in which he fell was the closing ofthe struggle.
The evacuation ofthe state was already determined upon
by the invader. A convoying fleet had already arrived
in Charleston for the purpose of covering the evacua
tion and receiving their troops. The expedition to Com
bahee had for its sole object the accumulation of the
provisions necessary for the voyage ; and these, but for
an unwise rigor on the part of the civil authorities, might
have been sold to the invader, at a fair price, instead of
being yielded to him only at the price of blood. Gen
eral Leslie had made overtures to this effect, and public
virtue did not require that his application should have
been rejected. It was clear that the enemy should be
fed, and equally certain that, if not allowed to traffic
. peacefully for the provisions which they required, they
would seize them by violence. The alternative was
urged by the British general, and was unwisely disre
garded by the local authorities.
AJew small events conclude the history of the war-
The"enemy left the Combahee, losing one of their gal
leys, which fell into the hands of the Americans, and

336 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
was employed in purging the river of tlieir stragglers.
The American horse, under Kosciusko, darted upon
their convoys at James' island, and succeeded in recov
ering a number of very fine horses, belonging to citizens
of the state. Several bold enterprises on John's and
James' island, by Captain Wilmot, resulted finally in his
falling into an ambush, in which he perished. This was
the last blood shed in the war of the Revolution. While
these events were in progress along the seaboard, Gen
eral Pickens, recovered from the wounds received at
Eutaw, had been employed in the upper country against
the tories and the Indians. He was particularly suc
cessful against both. He carried the war into the heart
ofthe savage nations along the borders, compelled them
to yield at discretion, and exacted a heavy forfeiture in
lands, as a penalty for their treacheries. The territory
thus conquered includes all that fine country which lies
between the upper waters of the Savannah and Chata-
hoochie. Pickens was the first to employ mounted gun
men in the war against the Indian nations.

GREENE S NECESSITIES.

CHAPTER XXIV.
Greene's Necessities. — He resorts to Impressment. — The British prepare to
Evacuate Charleston. — That Event takes place on the 14th of December,
1782. — The American Army enter the City. — Their Reception. — The Joy
of the Inhabitants. — Condition of Public Affairs in Carolina. — Discontents
and Difficulties. — Sufferings of the Army. — Mutiny. — Army Disbanded.—
Greene Revisits the North. — His Reception by Congress. — His Monetary
Difficulties. — Greene returns to Carolina.
The summer had worn away, tho winter had set in,
and still the British were in possession ofthe metropolis.
The season through which he had just passed, had been
to Greene one of the most painful weariness and anxiety.
The distress of his troops from want of food and from
sickness — his own sufferings of body — and the mortify
ing feeling of a feebleness which /forbids performance,
at the very time when the public service cries for it most,
bad kept the mind of the American general in a contin
ued fever of chagrin and disappointment. Yet his watch,
patient and vigilant, though inactive, was nothing in its
humiliations to the constant struggle which he was com
pelled to maintain with the local authorities to procure
the necessary provisions for the army. The officer ap
pointed by government to furnish supplies, at length to
tally failed in his duty, and Greene was compelled to re
sume, however much against his desire, the practice of
impressing, wherever he could, for the public service.
He had forborne this necessity as long as possible.
He had entreated, and counselled, and expostulated, and
warned, but all in vain ; and to avoid the worse dangers
15

338 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
of a mutiny, he was compelled to do as the enemy had
done, seize upon the means of life for those who, devoted
to the defence of the country, were left without all other
means of support. But the necessities of the soldier
are seldom acknowledged, when his service appears no
longer necessary ; and the measures taken by Greene,
however essential to the maintenance of his troops, and
to their good behavior, was greatly offensive to the citi
zens. Public feeling on this subject, however, was not
likely to assume a very decided hostility as long as the
enemy still held possession of the city, and the exultation
and joy which followed his evacuation of if, were calcu
lated, naturally, to make the people forgetful of all minor
sources of annoyance. General Leslie's proceedings for
evacuating Charleston were conducted with a politic os
tentation which had its objects. His preparations for
his departure all complete, he opened negotiations with
Greene in order that it should be peaceful. There was
no reason that such should not be the case, as any blow
struck while the invader was about to withdraw wholly
from the conflict, would have attested rather a revenge
ful spirit than the wisdom of one who never thwarted
the objects of humanity.
The 14th of December was the day fixed for the evac
uation of Charleston. With the sound of the morning
gun, the rear-guard abandoned their advanced redoubts.
With the same signal, the Americans marched in, and
took possession of them. This duty was assigned to
Wayne, at the head of three hundred infantry, the cav
alry of the legion, and a detachment of artillery. Closely
did the eager Americans press upon the heels of their
retiring foes. A distance of two hundred yards between
the rear of the one and the advance of the other had been
agreed upon ; but the anxiety of the Americans, resuming
possession of their ancient city, beholding once more the

EVACUATION OF CHARLESTON. 339
old familiar walks and tho old familiar faces, from which
they had been so long separated, made them trespass
upon this limit, and the cry from the British officers, at
such moments — "You are pressing upon us — you march
too fast forus" — would check momentarily the progress,
and compel a halt which the troops found it exceedingly
difficult to observe. The lines passed, the enemy filed
off to Gadsden's wharf, and by eleven o'clock, A. M..
the embarkation was complete. Wayne marched for
ward, and halted at the intersection of the two principal
¦ streets, Meeting and Broad, taking up his position in
front of the statehouse. His detachment was followed
by the calvacade which attended Greene in person — an
imposing assemblage, consisting of the first persons of
the 6tate, the governor, and his suite and the public au
thorities. These were preceded by a detachment of dra
goons. They were followed by Major-Generals Moultrie
and Gist, by along cavalcade of officers and citizens, by
the governor's council, and by another body of cavalry.
It was a glad day for the city. Its long-banished citizens
were restored — the brave hearts that refused to suc
cumb, or to despair — preferring to make sacrifice of
property and hope itself, for the maintenance of princi
ple. Fond and touching was the welcome they received.
The doors were thrown wide for their reception, while
balconies and windows, crowded with joyous faces, looked
the delight which was throbbing in every heart. Mute,
for a while, was the voice of pleasure, in the eagerness
of curiosity, and the novelty of those emotions which
were yet to find a voice. The feeling, at first, could ex
press itself in tears alone. Aged women might be seen
upon their knees, thankful but dumb, entreating in their
hearts for the blessings of that Benign Father, to whom
they felt how deep was their debt of gratitude. But
When the procession had reached the centre of the city

340 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
— when every eye had feasted upon the hitherto unknown
face of that brave and prudent commander to whose
firmness and policy the country was so great a debtor —
when they had recalled all the well-known features of
their own gallant and faithful sons — and the heart could
receive nothing more, and needed relief from its own
deep overflow — then rose from earth to heaven the fer
vent cry of delight and gratitude. -Then gratitude found
its voice, and joy its shout of exultation. Voices rose
wild in gratulation and applause ; and fervently did tho
soul of prayer declare itself in blessings and benedictions.
" God bless you all !" was the cry from thousands. " God
bless you, brave men — and welcome! welcome! all, to
your homes and to ours !"
The work upon which Greene had been sent to the
south was thus accomplished. The war was at an end.
He had found the country covered with its foes, and in
two years they had disappeared from its face. He had
found them fortified in numerous posts of strength, from
all of which they had been expelled. The two Caroli
nas and Georgia were once more restored to their origi
nal possessors ; and all these results had been obtained
in the face of every disadvantage. With inferior troops,
inferior appliances and implements, without money, with
out clothes for his troops, and frequently without provis
ions and ammunition, we find him steadily waging the
conflict — evading the foe whom he could not confidently
meet, but ever hanging about his path, watchful to take
advantage of all his mistakes, and to dart upon his mo
ments of unwariness and inaction. And the consequen
ces had not been partial. The recovery of the country
was complete, and the negotiations were already in prog
ress which promised that the peace of the states should
be followed by their independence.
But Greene's troubles were not yet over. Thr ab-

CONFLICTS OF AUTHORITY. 341
sence of the enemy brought no peace to his threshold.
His cares were destined to continue to the end of his
life, to harass his mind to the last, and so to embitter his
days as in all probability to shorten, their duration, and
give force to the disease by which he prematurely per
ished. He still held command in South Carolina, and
had the misfortune to be embroiled in a struggle between
the civil authorities and the army. Hitherto, his prog
ress, directly beneath the eye of John Rutledge, had re
ceived the sanction of that noble patriot, and of his suc
cessor, in the chair of state. The legislature, also, them
selves mostly sensible of his great services, the purity of
his heart, and the integrity of his character, had shown
him, as we have seen, that they could do justice td his
merits. In their proceedings they justly represented the
sentiments of the people. But, with the departure of
the British, the support and presence of an army became
equally unnecessary and irksome to the civil authorities.
We have seen, already, with what difficulty and constant
struggle, Greene succeeded in procuring food for his
troops after the legislature had determined that this pro
vision should be made only through their own agents.
The difficulty naturally increased with the absence of
that foreign enemy in whose presence alone that of a de
fensive army found the popular sanction. Frequent
bickerings ensued between the conflicting authorities of
the state and the army. Questions of paramount au
thority continued to arise between the one, insisting upon
its independence, and the other, claiming to represent a
central power to which all were required to submit.
Greene took strong ground upon this subject, and in
behalf of the latter, which, perhaps, would not have
been taken but for the fact that the domestic authority
was not yet so thoroughly restored as to place its assump
tions beyond dispute. The confederacy had been formed

342 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
in respect to the war — to the pressing exigency arising
from foreign invasion — and the rights of the central
government, in the season of returning peace, were yet
to be the subject of new discussions and new leagues.
But, with his army not yet disbanded, with the country
still infested with outlawed bands that defied the civil
arm, and with the foreign enemy not yet withdrawn from
the coast, the American general naturally demeaned him
self as if the war was still in progress. This he might
reasonably assume, as no treaty of peace had yet been
ratified. He, accordingly, engaged in the discussion
with the state authorities, on subjects, over which they
claimed exclusive control, and mortally offended some
of the officers of the state government, the executive
among them, by this alleged interference. The pay
ment of the state contribution — the treatment ofthe to
ries — subjects which seemed to be at once popular and
domestic — were among those vexing questions, in the
discussion of which it was Greene's misfortune to give
offence to the people he had so lately served with so
much zeal and success. It is not necessary that we
should take part in this discussion, nor is it necessary
that we should inquire in how far he was right in de
siring to increase the strength of the central establish
ment at the expense of the individual states.
The army, meanwhile, continued to suffer in conse
quence of this difficulty between the civil authorities
and representatives of Congress and the state. Con
gress, the creature of the states, had no means of sup
porting the troops unless by the state subsidies. The
Btates withheld their subsidies from the support of an
army for which they no longer had any use. South
Carolina claimed to have already contributed a far
greater amount than her quota. Indeed, she had sup
ported the army during the last three years of the war

SUFFERINGS OF THE ARMY. 343
in tbe south, almost exclusively, and at the close of the
war was tho largest creditor state in the Union. With
this fact before them, a large party in the state opposed
resolutely every appropriation which could have sup
plied the wants and met the necessities of the soldiery.
Greene's efforts to obtain the necessary supplies were
only construed into an offensive effort at dictation, and
was denounced as an arrogant presumption. We need
not pursue this subject, or go into the numerous petty
and vexatious details which might display the mutual
errors and mistakes of the conflicting parties. But a
single instance of collision between the civil authorities
and the army occurred, and in this instance the governor
of the state receded from a position which he had unwa
rily taken. Greene behaved with equal moderation and
firmness, and no evil consequences ensued.
The long and painful history which followed upon the
individual attempts of the American general to sustain
the army on his own credit, is one that must be greatly
condensed for this narrative. In the failure of the Con
gress and of the state to provide for his troops, it was
attempted to supply the deficiency by contract. The
'transaction was one which was naturally considered ex
ceedingly hazardous, since it was very doubtful in what
quarter the contracting party could finally look for pay
ment. The only offer was made by a person named
Banks, and after an interval of nearly three months, in the
absence of all other proposals, his were accepted. But
Banks seems to have been a needy man, and was already
much involved. He was just such an adventurer as
such times were calculated to produce. His creditors,
becoming apprehensive at what he had done, as endan
gering their securities, threatened to foreclose the mort
gage which they held upon his property, and thus de
prive him of the credit upon which, alone, could he be

344 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
able to meet his contracts. In this predicament, Banks
shrunk from the responsibilities he had undertaken ; the
army was again neglected — its patience was exhausted
— and its discontents soon rose to such a height, that, ap
prehensive of a mutiny among the most insubordinate,
Greene was compelled to call out a select body, drawn
from such troops as he supposed faithful, in order to
overawe the residue. His detachment was actually put
under arms, with cannon loaded and matches lighted,
so near was the anticipated trial of his strength and firm
ness. In this exigency, with the evil still at work, and
the danger still present and threatening, Greene was per
suaded that his personal security would suffice to extri
cate Banks from the immediate danger of his creditors,
and enable him to fulfil his contract for supplying the
army. There seemed to be no other alternative by
which to avoid a crisis, and Greene unhesitatingly
pledged himself as the security for Banks. We need
not describe the details. The result was that Banks be
came a bankrupt, and the whole burden of his indebted
ness fell on the American general. But this information
reached him only after the army was dissolved. That
event followed upon the arrival of the long-expected
news of peace. This intelligence reached Charleston
on the 16th of April, 1783 ; and was received by the
southern army, stationed on James' island, with as much
joy and exultation as could well be shown by soldiers,
whose only food at the time consisted of meat, without
the accompaniment of a single breadstuff. The troops
were soon furloughed to their respective states, the last
act of their commander, in connexion with them, con
sisting in an earnest appeal to the governor ofthe states
within his command, entreating their attention and justice
to the brave fellows who had so long been suffering in
the common cause. The close of August found Greene,

GREENE LEAVES THE ARMY. 345
himself, on his way homeward, respited, after a seven
years' apprenticeship to war, to the enjoyment of the
sweets of home and its endearing relations. His journey
was taken by land, a journey of many fatigues, and at
the worst season of the year. But he had too frequently
traversed the same weary path in the prosecution of
duty — should he feel its privations now when the prom
ised end before him was repose and happiness 1 His
route was cheered by the congratulations ofthe authori
ties and of the people in all the states through which he
travelled, all of whom vied in the desire to acknowledge
his great service to the country. Congress was in session
at Princeton, and thither he repaired to surrender up his
trusts in person. To that body he made the simple re
quest that he should be permitted to return to Rhode
Island — " that it was now going on nine years since he
had had an opportunity to visit his family and friends, or
pay the least attention to his private fortune." This re
quest was answered by a compliment. A committee was
appointed " to report a suitable expression of the appro
bation of Congress," and the result was a resolution —
".That two pieces of field ordnance taken from the Brit
ish army at the Cowpens, Augusta, or Eutaw, be present
ed by the commander-in-chief of the armies of the United
States to Major-General Greene, as a public testimonial
of the wisdom, fortitude, and military skill, which distin
guished his command in the southern department, and
of the eminent services, which, amidst complicated diffi
culties and dangers, and against an enemy greatly superior
in numbers, he has successfully performed for bis coun
try : — and that a memorandum be engraved on the said
pieces of ordnance expressive of the substance of this
resolution." A further resolve gave him the required permission to
visit Rhode Island, for which the consent of the com-
' 15"

346 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GEEENE.
mander-in-chief had already been obtained. Washing
ton, on this occasion, met with Greene for the last time.
Perhaps, there was no general of the American army
whose particular genius so much resembled that of
Washington as the commander of the southern army.
It is certain that he modeled himself after the former,
whom he had chosen for his study, and whom he ever re
garded with the profoundest admiration and respect. It
was among the subjects which vexed the enemies of
Washington that he had singled out Greene as the favor
ite general, upon whose counsels he always most pre
ferred to rely.
It was while at Philadelphia, that Greene first heard
ofthe failure of Banks, the contractor for the army, for
whom he had unwisely become security. The full force
of the blow was scarcely felt by him at this moment.
There was still some reason to believe that tho affairs
of Banks were not wholly desperate, and though his con
duct was in the last degree suspicious, he having with
drawn from the hands of a third person the bills which
had been pledged for Greene's indemnity, the sanguine
temperament of the latter refused to acknowledge the
full extent of the evil which he had every cause to fear.
At this moment, too, when released, for the first time for
many years, from the heavy and various duties of a sta
tion full ofthe most exciting and vital responsibilities —
free from a load of care — and about to revisit the scenes
of his youth and early manhood, and take to his embraces
the precious children whom, for so long a season, he had
not been permitted to see : — his mind naturally refused
to burden itself with apprehensions which might lessen
the enjoyments which his affections and his hopes now
promised him. Discarding all his doubts, yielding him
self only to hope, he hurried away to Rhode Island,
che§re4 qn bis rputpby the same demonstrations qf public

GREENE RETURNS TO CAROLINA. 347
approbation which had awaited him on his journey from
the south. His arrival in Rhode Island, was something
of a triumph. The voice of his native state declared its
approval of his conduct by the warmest testimonies, and
his home, under the earnest welcome of old friends and
neighbors, seemed, for a time, to have realized all his
anticipations. Here, honored by all, beloved by many —
with an ample circle of friends and associates — with a
precious homestead full of dear objects of equal interest
and affection — with leisure for books and thought, and
with just that degree of occupation in the cultivation of
farm and garden, in which the man of taste combines
equally recreation and employment — nothing was want
ing to the happiness of Greene but escape from his cruel
pecuniary entanglements. These haunted him in the sa
cred retreats of home, and embittered all its pleasures.
His residence in Rhode Island was for a time only. His
resolution had been taken to remove to the south, where
he might enjoy with more profit to his interest, the es
tates which the liberality of Georgia and the Carolinas
had enabled him to procure. In the month of June, 1784,
he returned to South Carolina to complete his prepara
tions for the final removal of his family. But his evil
destiny pursued him. The cloud which hung about his
fortunes, with the feeling it produced, may be gathered
from a letter to one of his brothers, written from Charles
ton. " My heart is too full," he writes, " and my situ
ation too distressing, to write much. . . You may re
member, I told you last winter of some heavy embarrass
ments, which hung over me from becoming security for
Banks, Hunter, & Co. They being public contractors,
and the feeding ofthe army depending upon supporting
their credit, I was obliged to guaranty sundry of their
debts. But that I might be secure, they engaged that
all the contract money should go to the discharge of my

348 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
guaranty bonds. This they have found means to avoid ;
their affairs have grown desperate, and I am and shall be
involved in heavy and unavoidable losses. ... It will
oblige me to sell a considerable part of my estate. My
situation is truly afflicting ! To be reduced from inde
pendence to want, and from the power of obliging my
friends, to a situation claiming their aid. . . . My heart
faints within me when I think of my family. I have only
one consolation — it is not the fruits of extravagance."
Banks, the miserable insolvent dared not encounter
the man he had ruined. He fled from Charleston the
moment he heard of Greene's arrival in that city. Be
lieving that he still possessed the means of indemnity,
Greene resolved to pursue him, and compel restoration.
Mounting his horse, though at the most sickly season of
the year, taking with him a single servant, and provided
only with his pistols and a change of garments in his
saddle-bags, he at once set forth in pursuit. His route
was taken over the same region which he had formerly
traversed at the head of an army. At every step for
ward some recollection of mingled pain and pleasure,
started up before him. What had been his situation
then? One of peril surely, of many privations, but none
of such humiliating involvements as now vexed his heart,
and drove peace and quiet from his mind. If he was
then, the soldier of fortune only, having nothing but his
sword, he was still the soldier of freedom whose only
cares were such honorable ones as belong to his country.
But with peace, he had been cheeied with a promise of
independence for himself, and plenty for his children,
vouchsafed him only, as it would seem, to mortify and
mock. His feelings and fears were a terrible goad to
his endeavors. Under the burning sun of that season
and region, he pressed his pursuit ; and in a chase of 400
miles he at length overtook the wretched bankrupt. But

GREENE S DISTRESSES. 349
Banks had been already overtaken by a more fatal, if less
angry creditor. Greene found him dying, the victim to a
malignant fever which had seized upon him even be
fore be fled from Charleston. The excitement of fear —
the intense desire to escape from his pursuer — had sus
tained him on this long and painful route ; and believing
himself secure from the man he had- wronged, he laid
himself down to die. He does not seem to have fled
with any spoils. His flight appears to have been prompt
ed only by an earnest anxiety to escape the eyes of his
creditor. His conscience had been the goad to the fugi
tive ; and Greene gained nothing from the pursuit but
a confirmation of all his fears. He had but to retrace
the path in disappointment which he had lately trod in
eagerness and hope. He writes — " My distresses are
sufficient already to sink me under water. " A little more,
and I am gone." From this sentence his mental agony
may be inferred. That one who had borne so many
vicissitudes, and had passed so manfully through such a
career of peril, defeat, and disappointments, should have
expressed himself in language so desponding, is sufficient
to understand his situation, and the extremity of his ap
prehensions. These were mostly realized. He was
compelled, at a time of peculiar pressure in the moneyed
condition of the country, to sell the lands which he had
bought in Carolina, at an enormous sacrifice. His slaves
were removed to his estate in Georgia. To this estate —
a beautiful place called Mulberry Grove, on the Savan
nah, which had been presented him by the state of Geor
gia  he at length retired in the spring of 1785. A
memorial to Congress which was presented in August,
of this year, giving a simple history of his relations with
Banks, and the losses sustained by him, amply showed
that these losses had been sustained entirely for the coun
try, and were unavoidable from his situation. His state-

350 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
inents, made when all the facts were fresh in the public
mind, proved him to be equally patriotic and unfortunate,
and, without preferring a claim to the immediate inter
ference of Congress, left it to their sense of right to de
termine, whether the losses incurred in their cause, should
not be met by their justice and liberality. This was his
last official communication to his government. It pre
sents the spectacle, at once noble and painful, of a man
who has faithfully served his country, modestly prefer
ring a claim, which, however humbled by misfortune, he
yet disdains to solicit.

FURTHER ANNOYANCES.- 351

CHAPTER XXV.
His Removal to Georgia. — Challenged by Captain Gunn. — He declines
the Challenge. — The Extent, Prospect, Peace and Beauty of his Do
mains. — His Sickness and Death. — Public Sorrow and Honors on this
Event. — His Character. — Conclusion.
Greene's annoyances from the failure of Banks, con
tinued to the end of his life. But these were not all.
Scarcely had he reached his new abode in Georgia, when
a personal difficulty assailed him which he had no reason
to anticipate. He was waited on by Colonel Jackson,
as the friend of Captain Gunn, who demanded redress
for a supposed injury done to himself by Greene, while
the latter was in command of the southern army. The
offence arose from a habit which but too much prevailed
among the dragoons, of seizing and keeping the horses
of the public or of their own troopers. By the constitution
of the corps each officer was required to provide his
own horse, and an allowance was made him, in money,
to enable him to do so. But, as the government finally
failed altogether in making payment to the troops, the
officers of cavalry, when they lost their own horses, did
not scruple to dismount their troopers at pleasure, or ap
propriated such horses as were procured for the public
service. Abuses still more gross had resulted from this
license, and there were very few officers who did not
keep from one to three horses. Captain Gunn, whose
challenge to the field of personal combat, awaited Greene
on his arrival in Georgia, had improved upon the system.

352 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
He had exchanged a public horse with a brother officei,
-for which he had received two other horses and a slave.
Greene brought him to trial for this offence, and he was
compelled to make restitution for the horse. His present
demand was based upon Greene's proceedings in tho
case. Greene had been brought up in a school which did
not tolerate duelling. Fortunately for his reputation as
a man of personal courage, that was sufficiently well-
known, to render necessary any resort to this means, for
securing him in the respect of his neighbors. But. he
placed his refusal to meet with Gunn, on other grounds,
and, after a clear and correct nanative of the whole af
fair, which he gave to Colonel Jackson, he concluded
with declaring his resolution never to sanction the call
of an inferior officer upon his superior, for supposed in
juries done in the course of command. Jackson, upon
understanding the history ofthe case, withdrew from all
connexion with it: but Gunn, not to be pacified, pro
cured another agent, in the person of Major Fishburne,
who renewed for him his requisition upon Greene. The
latter refused any answer, and was accordingly threat
ened by Gunn with a personal assault, for which he gave
the challenger to understand he always went prepared.
The parties do not seem to have sought or shunned each
other. By good fortune they never met, and the affair
was soon blown over. But Greene seems to have been
troubled with some misgivings in relation to the course
which he had pursued. His career as a soldier had
grievously shaken the foundations of his quaker philoso
phy. He had become sensible in the army, of the ex
treme delicacy which belongs to a military reputation,
and the exceeding readiness with which the youthful
salamander learns to question the courage of the more
sedate and scrupulous. He accordingly addressed to

GREENE CN HIS PLANTATION. 353
Washington a private letter on the subject, entreating
his opinion. " If," said he, " I thought my honor or
reputation would suffer in the opinion of the world, and
more especially with the military gentlemen, I value life
too little to hesitate a moment to answer tbe challenge."
The reply of Washington affirmed the propriety of
Greene's judgment in the matter. He says — "I give it
as my decided opinion that your honor and reputation
will stand not only perfectly acquitted for the non-ac
ceptance of his [Gunn's] challenge, but that your pru
dence and judgment would have been condemned for
accepting it ; because, if a commanding officer is amena
ble to private calls for the discharge of his public duty,
he has a dagger always at his heart ; and can turn neither
to the right hand nor to the left without meeting its
point. In a word, he is no longer a free agent in office,
as there are few military decisions which are not offen
sive to one party or another."
With this affair the annoyances of Greene appear to
cease. His mind began to recover its tone; his spirits
are more fresh and buoyant. He had brought on his
family to Georgia in the latter part of 1785, and he in
dulges in all those dreams of happiness, in his own
grounds, which the public man is apt to feel after a long
and trying service, when he finds himself apart from the
busy world, and respited from all its troubles. He has found
a refuge. The seclusion of his plantation is no solitude.
His wife and children are about him. He is solaced
with their sympathies, and gladdened by their sight. He
is honored by his neighbors, and finds their society
grateful. His duties are no longer burdensome. His
cares involve no humiliations. To cultivate his fields, to
clear and beautify his grounds, to multiply the produce
of the earth, and watch the growth of plants and flowers,
which his own hands have set out, provides him with em-

354 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
ployments at once grateful to his tastes, and in unison
with his duties. It is evident, from his correspondence
at this period, that Greene had shaken off his despon
dency, and was beginning to see the world once more
through the rose-colored medium of youth. His escape
from the drudgery of public service was like that of a
boy released from school, and rioting with his comrades
in the broad fields and in the blessed sunshine. His res
idence was a delightful one, and it awakened all his en
thusiasm. His letters at this period are full of his
grounds and garden — '- his shrubbery — the pigeon-house
and poultry-yard. He had fairly surrendered himself to
the luxury of domestic life. What a contrast, its calm,
its peaceful solitudes, its mild enjoyments, to the con
tinued turmoil, the fierce excitements, the anxieties and
dangers ofthe camp. In April, a bit of a letter shows
us how happily he lords it in his little empire. " This is
a busy time with us, and I can afford but a small portion
of time to write. We are planting. We have got up
ward of sixty acres of corn planted, and expect to plant
one hundred and thirty of rice. The garden is delight
ful. The fruit-trees and flowering shrubs form a pleas
ing variety. We have green peas almost fit to eat, and
as fine lettuce as you ever saw. The mocking-birds
surround us evening and morning. The weather is mild
and the vegetable world progressing to perfection. We
have in the same orchard, apples, pears, peaches, apri
cots, nectarines, plums of various kinds, figs, pomegran
ate, and oranges. And we have strawberries which
measure three inches round."
He has evidently forgotten the demands of Gunn, and ¦
the failure of Banks. He has delivered himself to the
present, and to the lovely empire of fruit and flower
with which he has environed himself in bis retreat. But,
it was Heaven's will that he should not behold the ripening

GREENE S DEATH. 355
ofthe fruits which his hands had set to grow ; it was the
will of the same Divine Providence that the wretched,
entanglement with Banks should still be the means, in
some degree, for cutting him off in his felicity. His
presence was required in Savannah, on Monday the 12th
of June, 1786, for the purpose of settling with one of
Bank's creditors. In returning from that city, he spent the
day at the house of Mr. William Gibbons. Greene had
become a rice-planter, and a natural curiosity to see
the progress of Mr. Gibbons' crop, led them after break
fast into the rice-field together. The sun was intensely
hot, as it usually is during this month in the south, but
Greene had too frequently endured his fiercest rays in
Carolina, to apprehend danger from them now. The
exposure was followed by a sharp pain in the head, which
he felt while going home, and which continued through
out the ensuing day. But it occasioned no alarm, and
was supposed to be nothing but an ordinary headache.
On Thursday, however, the pain had increased greatly,
over the eyes in particular, and the forehead appeared
swollen and inflamed. In the evening, Major Pendleton,
late his aid, paid him a visit, and was immediately im
pressed with the unfavorable change in his appearance.
His apprehensions were excited, and early on Friday, a
physician was summoned, who opened a vein, and ad
ministered some ordinary remedies. But the inflamma
tion continued to increase. Another physician was sum
moned ; more active medicines were employed ; more
blood was taken, and blisters were put upon the temples.
But the remedies were applied too late. The head had
now swollen greatly — the unfavorable symptoms rapidly
increased. Greene sank into a complete torpor from
which he never recovered, and early on Monday, the
19th of June, he expired.
This mournful event, which cut off a citizen so dis-

356 LIFE OF NATHANAEL GREENE.
tinguished, in the midst of his hopes, in the prime of his
manhood — for he was but forty-four years old when he
died — was doubly felt as it was so totally unexpected. In
the south the grief was at once deep and general. In the
city of Savannah, the tidings produced a suspension of
all business, public and private. The shops were shut,
the public places were wrapped in mourning, and a
spontaneous movement of the people, prepared for the
mournful duty of committing the remains of one so hon
ored to their final resting-place. On the morning after
his death, the body was brought down by water to the
city. It was met on the banks ofthe river by the muni
cipality and the military of the place. The citizens turn
ed out as one man to follow in the melancholy procession
to the grave, and in the absence of a regular minister of
the gospel — for Savannah had not yet recovered from
the devastating influences of war — the funeral service,
according to the rites of the church of England, was read
by the Honorable William Stevens. Deposited in an
unknown vault, the coffin of Nathanael Greene was dis
tinguished only by a small metallic plate, which, in the
usual manner, bears the name and age of the occupant.
Upon this plate rests the only hope of identifying the re
mains of our subject, the search for which, partially
urged, perhaps, has hitherto proved fruitless.
Congress, immediately after his death, decreed a
monument to his memory, to be erected at the seat of
the federal government — nay — went a step farther and
even composed the inscription — but to this day nothing
has been done toward the work ; neither bust nor stone,
nor trophied monument, has been raised to do justice to
a memory which history can not fail to honor.
We have no need to dwell upon the services which
deserve this memorial. The public career of Nathanael
Greene js on record. His virtues, talents, courage, and

HIS CHARACTER. 357
eminent prudence, will always secure for him the un
questioning gratitude of those who read thoughtfully and
feelingly the history of our revolutionary struggles.
Brave without rashness, prudent without fear, bold with
out temerity, temperate without phlegm, firm without
obstinacy, strict without harshness, indulgent without
partiality, thoughtful without tardiness, sanguine without
impulse, and endowed with a constancy that never lost
sight of its object in its incidents, — Greene presented us
one of the happiest specimens of a mind well balanced,
a heart matured, and a judgment ripe for all the\exigen-
cies that distinguished his career.
His conduct during the progress of the struggle was
frequently the subject of cavil and complaint. Slander
and defamation strove to fasten upon his skirts ; but, like
his great exemplar, Washington, he shook off the reptile
as easily as Paul, the viper, after his shipwreck on the bar
barous island of Melita. His reputation, freed wholly
from stain, or imputation of offence, has been steadily
rising to the first rank among the military men of the
Revolution. His talents, as a soldier, are supposed to
resemble those of the commander-in-chief, and, of all our
major-generals of the Revolution, he is universally ad
mitted to be the one who stands nearest to Washington.

APPENDIX.

SOUTHERN ARMY.
A NARRATIVE OF THE CAMPAIGN OF 1780,
DT COLONEL OTHO HOLLAND WILLIAMS, ADJUTANT-GENERAL.
Thb city of Charleston, South Carolina, was invested by a British
army, commanded by General Sir Henry Clinton, on the first day of
April, 1780. Major-General Lincoln ofthe American army, who com
manded the garrison, made the best possible defence his situation and
circumstances would admit of j hut, finding his garrison inadequate, and
the resources of the country cut off or exhausted, he applied to the
commander-in-chief of the American army for a reinforcement.
On the 16th day of April, 1780, the quotas of Maryland and Dela
ware troops, about fourteen hundred infantry, marched under the orders
of Major-General the baron Do Kalb, from cantonments near Morris
town in New Jersey, for the head of the Chesapeake bay. They em
barked the 3d day of May, at the head of Elk river, and arrived at
Petersburg in Virginia early in June.
Here the unwelcome news of the surrender of Charleston (an the
1 2th of May) was first communicated to the detachment, the principal
object of whose destination was lost; hut the country was not yet con
quered ; »nd it was presumed that the countenance of a body of regular
troops, however small, would contribute more than anything else to
sustain the fortitude of the mililia. Every exertion, therefore, was
made in Virginia to expedite the march of the baron's detachment,
which here received a small reinforcement of artillery. It proceeded
with some eelerity and in fine spirits as far as Wilcox's iron works,
on Deep river, in the state of North Carolina ; hot here, on the 6th day
of July, the baron found himself under the necessity of halting for want
of provisions.
The state of North Carolina had made no provision for the troops
of the Union ; she was solely occupied with her own militia, u great
portion of which, being disaffected, were obliged to be dragooned into
the service. All the baron's applications and remonstrances to the

360 ATPENDIX.
executive were without effect ; he was obliged to send small detach
ments, under discreet officers, to collect provisions from the inhabitants,
who at that season of the year had but little to spare. Many of them
were subsisting themselves upon the last of the preceding crop of
grain, and the new, although it promised plenty, was not yet mature ;
consequently some of the inhabitants must have suffered, notwithstand
ing the strict orders to the officers to impress only a proportion of what
was found on the farms. In this dilemma the troops remained several
days, but the resources failing in the vicinity of the camp, it became
necessary to draw supplies from a greater distance, or to march to where
there was greater plenty. The former was impracticable, as the means
of transportation were not in the baron's power. He consequently de
termined on the latter, previously extending tho excursions of his for
aging parties, with directions to form a small magazine at Cox's (or
Wilcox's) mill, on Deep river, where the troops arrived on the — day
of July, and encamped near Buffalo ford.
Still, however, the supplies of grain were scarcely sufficient, even
for the present subsistence of the troops ; and the only meat ration that
could be procured was lean beef, daily driven out of the woods and the
canehrakes, where the cattle had wintered themselves. Inaction, bad
fare, and the difficulty of preserving discipline, when there is no appre
hension of danger, have often proved fatal to troops and ruined whole
armies. But here, the activity of the officers, and the persevering pa
tience of the privates, preserved order, harmony, and even a passion for
the service.
The baron did not fail to represent his situation to Congress, and to
repeat his remonstrances to the executive of the state of North Carolina.
He had been flattered with a promise of a plentiful supply of provisions
and a respectable reinforcement of the militia of North Carolina, which
about that time took the field, under the command of Mr. Caswell, who
was appointed a major-general. The supplies, however, did not arrive ;
and the commandant of the militia, ambitious of signalizing himself,
employed his men in detachments against small parties of disaffected
inhabitants, who, to avoid being drafted iuto the service of their coun
try, retired among the swamps and other cover with which that country
abounds. It was in vain that the baron required General Caswell to join his
command ; and it was equally fruitless to expect much longer to find
subsistence fur his soldiers in a country where marauding parties of
militia swept all before them. The baron therefore hesitated whether
he had better march to join the militia, in hopes to find that Caswell's
complaints of a want of provisions for himself were fictitious, or to move
up the country and gain the fertile hunks of tho Yadkin river. But,
before any resolution was taken, the approach of Major-General Gates
was announced, by tho arrival of his aid-dc-camp, Major Armstrong,
who was to have acted as deputy adjutant-general, but was prevented
by sickness.

SOUTHERN ARMY  CAMPAIGN OP 1780. 301
General Gates, who had so fortunately terminated the career of Gen
eral Burgoyne in the north, was appointed to command the southern
army immediately after the reduction of Charleston. His arrival, on
the 25th of July, was a relief to De Kalb, who condescendingly took
command of the Maryland division, which included the regiment of
Delaware. Besides these two corps, the army consisted only of a small
logionary corps, which formed a junction with them a few days before,
under the command of Colonel Armand, being about sixty cavalry and
as many infantry ; and Lieutenant-Colonel Carrington's detachment of
three companies of artillery, which had joined in Virginia.
General Gates was received with respectful ceremony. The baron
ordered a continental salute from the little park of artillery, which was
performed on the entrance into camp of his successor, who made his
acknowledgments to the baron for his great politeness ; approved his
standing orders ; and, as if actuated by a spirit of great activity and en
terprise, ordered the troops to hold themselves in readiness to march at
a moment's warning. The latter order was a matter of great aston
ishment to those who knew the real situation of the troops. But all
difficulties were removed by the general's assurances that plentiful sup
plies of rum and rations were on the route, and would overtake them
in a day or two — assurances that certainly were too fallacious, and that
never were verified. All were in motion, however, early in the morn
ing of the 27th of July, and the general took the route over Buffalo
ford, leading toward the enemy's advanced post on Lynch's creek, on
the road to Camden, leaving two brass field-pieces and some baggage
for want of horses. Colonel Williams, presuming on the friendship
of the general, ventured to expostulate with him upon the seeming
precipitate and inconsiderate step he was taking. He represented that
the country through which he was about to march was by nature bar
ren, abounding with sandy plains, intersected by swamps, and very
thinly inhabited ; that the little provisions and forage which were pro
duced on the banks of its few small streams were exhausted, or taken
away by the enemy, and by the hordes of banditti (called tories), which
had retired from what they called the persecution of the rebels, and
who would certainly distress his army, small as it was, by removing
what little might remain out of his way. On the other hand, the colo
nel represented that a route about northwest would cross the Pedeo
river somewhere about whero it loses the name of Yadkin, and would
lead to the little town of Salisbury, in the midst of a fertile country,
and inhabited by a people zealous in the cause of America ; that the
most active and intelligent officers had contemplated this route with
pleasure, not only as it promised a more plentiful supply of provisions,
but because the sick, the women and children, and the wounded, in
case of disaster, might have an asylum provided for them at Salisbury
or Charlotte, where they would remain in security, because the militia
of the counties of Mecklenburg and Roan, in which these villages
stand were stanch friends. The idea of establishing a laboratory for
16

362 APPENDIX.
the repair of arms at a secure place, was also suggested as necessary :
ihe security of convoys of stores from the northward, by the upper
route; the advantage of turning the left ofthe enemy's outposts, even
by a circuitous route ; that of approaching the most considerable of
those posts (Camden) with the river Wateree on our right, and our
friends on our backs ; and some other considerations — were suggested.
And, that they might the more forcibly impress the general's mind, a
short note was presented to him, concisely intimating the same opin
ion, and referring to the best-informed gentlemen under his command.
General Gates said he would confer with the general officers when the
troops should halt at noon. Whether any conference took place or
not the writer does not know. After a short halt at noon, when the
men were refreshed upon the scraps in their knapsacks, the march was
resumed. The country exceeded the representation that had been
made of it: scarcely had it emerged from a state of sterile nature; the
few rude attempts at improvement that were to be found were most of
them abandoned by the owners and plundered by the neighbors. Ev
ery one, in this uncivilized part of the country, was flying from his
home, and joining in parties, under adventurers, who pretended to
yield them protection, until the British army should appear, which they
seemed confidently to expect. The distresses of the soldiery daily in
creased. They were told that the banks of the Pedee river were ex
tremely fertile — and so, indeed, they were ; but the preceding crop of
corn (the principal article of produce) was exhausted, and the new
grain, although luxuriant and fine, was unfit for use. Many of the
soldiery, urged by necessity, plucked the green cars and boiled them
with the lean beef, which was collected in the woods, made for them
selves a repast, not unpalatable to be sure, but which was attended
with painful effects. Green peaches also were substituted for bread,
and had similar consequences. Some of the officers, aware of the risk
of eating such vegetables, and in such a state, with poor fresh beef, and
without salt, restrained themselves from taking anything but the beef
itself, boiled or roasted. It occurred to some that the hair-powder,
which remained in their bags, would thicken soup, and it was actually
applied.* The troops, notwithstanding their disappointment in not being over
taken by a supply of rum and provisions, wore again amused with
promises, and gave early proofs of that patient submission, inflexible
fortitude, and undeviating integrity, which they afterward more emi
nently displayed.
On the 3d day of August the little army crossed Pedee river, in
batteaux, at Mask's ferry, and were met on the. southern bank by
Lieutenant-Colonel Porterfield, an officer of merit, who, after the dis
aster at Charleston, retired with a small detachment, and found means
of subsisting himself and his men in Carolina until the present time.
Colonel Marion, a gentleman of South Carolina, had been with the
' CiptHin W. D. Beale, &o.

SOUTHERN ARMY  CAMPAIGN OF 1780, 363
Brmy a few days, attended by a very few followers, distinguished by
small black leather caps and tho wretchedness of their attire. Their
number did not exceed twenty men and hoys, some white, some black,
and all mounted, but most of them miserably equipped ; their appear-
anco was in fact so burlesque, that it was with much difficulty tho
diversion of the regular soldiery was restrained by the officers; and
the genoral himself was glad of an opportunity of detaching Colonol
Marion, at his own instance, toward the interior of South Carolina,
witli orders to watch the motions of the enemy, and furnish intelli
gence. These trilling circumstances are remembered in these notes, to show
from what contemptible beginnings a good capacity will rise to dis
tinction. The history of the war in South Carolina will recognise
Marion as a brave partisan, if only the actions of the last two years'
campaigns are recorded.
The expectation, founded on assurances of finding a plentiful sup
ply of provisions at May's mill, induced the troops again to obey the
order to march with cheerfulness ; but being again disappointed, fa
tigued, and almost famished, their patience began to forsake them.
Their looks began to be vindictive, mutiny was ready to manifest it
self, and the most unhappy consequences were to be apprehended —
when the regimental officers, by mixing among the men and remon
strating with them, appeased murmurs, for which unhappily there was
too much cause. The officers, however, by appealing to their own
empty canteens and mess-cases, satisfied the privates that all suffered
alike ; and, exhorting them to exercise the same fortitude of which the
officers gave them tho example, assured them that the best means of
extricating them from the present distress should be immediately adopt
ed ; that if the supplies expected by the general did not arrive very
soon, detachments should go from each corps, in all directions, to pick
up what grain might possibly be found in the country, and bring it to
the mill.
Fortunately, a small quantity of Indian corn was immediately brought
into camp ; the mill was set to work, and as soon as a mess of meal was
ground it was delivered to the men ; and so, in rotation, they were all
served in the course of a few hours. More poor cattle were sacrificed,
tho camp-kettles were all engaged, the men were busy, but silent, until
they had each taken his repast ; and then all was again content, cheer
fulness, and mirth. It was as astonishing as it was pleasing to observe
tho transition.
The general and field officers were not the first served upon this oc
casion, nor were they generally the most satisfied ; but, as no one could
point out the means of immediate redress, no remonstrances took place
with the commanding officer. The commanding officer, however, was
well informed of what was passing in the camp, and of the critical dis
position of the troops. Impressed by a sense of difficulties, and per
haps conceiving himself in some degree accountable to the army for

364 APPENDIX.
the steps he had taken; ho told Colonel Williams, who acted as deputy
adjutant-generul to the southern army, that ho had, in a measure, been
forced to take the route he had done ; that General Caswell had evaded
every order which had been sent to him, as well by the liaron De Kalb
as himself, to form a junction of the militia with the regular corps;
that it appeared to him that Caswell's vanity was gratified by having
a separate command ; that probably he contemplated some enterprise
to distinguish himself and gratify his ambition, " which," said he, " I
should not be sorry to see checked by a rap over the knuckles, if it
were not that the militia would disperse, and leave this handful of
brave men without even nominal assistance." He urged further that
it was the more necessary to counteract the indiscretion of Caswell,
and save him from disaster, as he then commanded the only corps of
militia that were embodied in the Carolinas; that the assurances he
had received from the executive of North Carolina gave him cause lo
suspect that supplies of provisions had been forwarded and used in pro
fusion in Caswell's camp, notwithstanding intimations had been com
municated to him that the militia were in as bad a situation in that
respect as the regular corps ; that, moreover, having marched thus far
directly toward the enemy, a retrograde or indirect movement would
not only dispirit tho troops, but intimidate the peoplo of the country,
many of whom had conio in with their arms, or sent tlieir submissions
to the general — promising, upon his engagement to indemnify them
for what had passed, to assemble themselves under their own leaders
and follow the colors of the Union. The poverty of the country and
the perfidy of the people were in vain opposed lo these agreements,
and in fact the troops had penetrated so far, as to make it even as haz
ardous to return or file off for the upper country as to advance.
Dangerous as deceptions had been, it was still thought expedient to
flatter the expectation ofthe soldiery with an abundance of provisions
so soon as a junction could be formed with the militia. Therefore,
after collecting all the corn which was to he found in the neighborhood
of May's mill, and huckstering all the meal that could bo spared from
our present necessities, Ihe march was resumed toward Camden.
On the 5th day of August, in the afternoon, General Gates received
a letter, informing him that General Caswell meditated an attack upon
a fortified post o^ the enemy on Lynch's creek, about fourteen miles
from the militia encampment. More anxious than ever, General Gates
urged on the march ofthe regulars. Whatever the men suffered, and
whatever they thought, the cxainplc of the officers, who shared with
them every inconvenience, repressed the murmurs which were hourly
expected to break forth. The next morning orders were issued for the
army to inarch with the utmost expedition to join tho militia, under tho
idea that it was the only expedient to gain a supply of provisions ; but
another and more vexatious cause to General Gates was, a letter from
General Caswell, advising him that he had every reason to apprehend
an attack on his camp by the garrison from Lynch's creek (the very

SOUTHERN ARMY  CAMPAIGN OF 1780. 365
garrison which he, the day before, had determined to assault, for there
was no possibility of surprising troops so situated), and requesting Gen
eral Gates to reinforce him with all possible despatch.
One of Caswell's letters began — " Sir, General W-  , my aid*
de-camp." The ostentation of this address weakened tho little confi
dence which the general-in-cliicf might havo had in tho major-general's
capacity for command, and increased his desire to have all tho forces
under his immediate direction. Such evasions of orders, such pre
tences to enterprise, and such sudden signs of intimidation, in the mili
tia general, determined Gates to reach his camp in person that same
day, although it was impracticable, without retreating the militia, for a
junction to be formed until the next. The deputy adjutant-general
had the honor of attending the general commandant to the headquar
ters of the commandant of the militia. The reception was gracious,
, and the general and his suite were regaled with wine^nd other novel
ties, exquisitely grateful and pleasingly exhilarating ; but a man must
have been intoxicated, not to perceive the confusion which prevailed in
the camp : tables, chairs, bedsteads, benches, and many other articles
of heavy and cumbrous household stuff, were scattered before the tent
doors in great disorder.
It was understood that General Caswell had discovered, upon the
last alarm, that, by the death of horses and breaking down of carriages,
he was rendered unable to move, and was making an effort to divest
himself then of his heavy baggage. (If, in these notes, a tenor, censo
rious of General Caswell's conduct, appears to the reader, the writei
begs that it may not, as it ought not to be, imputed to any personal
prejudice or malicious motive. He never had the honor of seeing the
general until this time, and all that he had ever heard of him was ex
tremely favorable to his character as a gentleman and a patriot. A
regard to facts, to which the writer thinks he may possibly hereafter be
called to testify on oath, obliges him to state them faithfully as they
occurred, or were communicated to him — preserving the memory of
authorities, as well as incidents, in order to a correct statement of the
circumstances about which he may be interrogated.)
On the 17th of August, the wished-for junction took place at the
cross roads, about fifteen miles east of the enemy's post on Lynch's
creek. This event enlivened the countenances of all parties: the militia
were relieved from their apprehensions of an attack, and the regulars,
forgetting their fatigues, and disdaining to betray the least appearance
of discontent, exulted in the confidence with which they inspired their
new comrades ; a good understanding prevailed among the officers of
all ranks, and General Caswell seemed satisfied with the honor of
being the third in command.
The baron De Kalb commanded the right wing of the army, com
posed of the regular troops, and General Caswell the left, of militia.
After the junction, which happened about noon, the army marched

366 APPENDIX.
a few miles toward the enemy's post on Lynch's creek, and encamped
in order.
The deputy adjutant-general, who had as much anxiety as if he had
been personally responsible for tho fate of tho army, in order to observe
what guards were established for the safety ofthe left wing, went with
Lieutenant-Colonel Ford (officer of the day), at an unusual hour, to
inspect the lines. The guards and sentinels of the right wing were,
as usual, attentive, and hailed the visiting rounds with that alacrity
and spirit which inspired a confidence of security in that quarter ; but
in the left wing all was tranquil. The officers patrolled around the
encampment without being hailed once ; and then rode into the lines,
and among the tents, and even apprqached the marquees of some of
the general and field officers — one of whom complained of being dis
turbed, and intimated that it was an unseasonable hour for gentlemen
to call. The officers of the preceding day were sent for, and guards
and patrols sent out to secure the encampment from surprise.
The morning of the 8th of August dawned without revealing any
appearance of an enemy.
Under the judicious mask of offensive operations, the commanding
officer of the post on Lynch's creek evacuated it and retired unmolested
and at leisure to a much stronger position on Little Lynch's creek,
within a day's march of Camden — which last was strongly fortified,
and had a considerable garrison under the command of Lord Rawdon.
The small posts which the enemy had advanced into the country
were calculated to cover the parties which were sent in all directions
to collect the forage and provisions that might be found on the waters
of Lynch's creek and Black rivers; and this business having been
already effected, the posts were no longer an object to them.
General Gates saw himself master of the field, but it was a barren
one. The troops still subsisted upon precarious supplies of corn meal
and lean beef, of which they often did not reccivo half u ration per
day, and no possibility existed of doing better, without departing from
the route which the general had all along pertinaciously persisted in.
To have descended among the fertile fields of Black river, would have
been leaving the garrison of Camden between the army and the ex
pected reinforcements from Virginia. Besides, the refugees of North
Carolina repeated their assurances of joining in considerable numbers
in a few days.
On the other hand, the Waxhaw settlement offered the greatest
prospect of a comfortable supply of provisions, but it could not be gained
under two or three days' march ; it lay too much out of the way ; the
movement would look like retreating from the enemy, and the swamp
ers, as tho expocted voluutcors were called, would surely desert tho
cause. There was no deciding — there was no delaying: the army
marched unconscious what step was next to be taken. General Gates,
however, began to perceive the danger of approaching an enemy of
whoso numbers he had no certain intelligence, encumbered as ho was

SOUTHERN ARMY  CAMPAIGN OF 1780, 367
with an enormous train of heavy baggage, a multitude of women, and
not a few children. An effort was therefore formed under Major Dean,
and a number of wagons were appointed to convey to Charlotte all the
heavy baggage, and as many of the women as could be driven from
the line ; many of the latter, however, preferred sharing every toil and
every danger with the soldiery, to the security and provisions that were
promised them. The army advanced, but, approaching the enemy'*
post on Little Lynch's creek, it was discovered hy good intelligence to
be situated on the south side of the water, on commanding ground;
that the way leading to it was over a causeway on the north side to a
wooden bridge, which stood on very steep banks ; and that the creek
lay in a deep, muddy channel, bounded on the north by an extensive
swamp, and passable nowhere for several miles but in the face of the
enemy's work. The enemy was not disposed to abandon these advan
tages, without feeling the pulse of the approaching army ; and General
Gates observed that, to attack him in front, " would be taking the bull
by the horns." It was necessary, for once, to depart from the shortest
route to the enemy's principal outpost, Camden. The army defiled by
the right, and Colonel Hall, of Maryland, with a detachment of about
three hundred men, covered the left flank until it was out of danger
from surprise, and then formed the rear-guard. This manoeuvre, on
the 11th of August, induced the gorrison to retire with some precipi
tation to Camden, and about the same time the British garrison which
had occupied Clermont (or Rugley's mills), on the north road, retired
to the same place.
Lord Rawdon, who commanded the advanced corps of the British
army, wisely collected his whole force at Camden, which, besides being
flanked by the river Wateree and Pinetree creek, was considerably
strengthened by a number of redoubts.
As his lordship's emissaries were in all parts ofthe country, he could
not fail to be informed that General Gates was in his neighborhood
with a brigade of regular troops and two brigades of militia, besides
some small corps of artillery and cavalry; that Brigadier-General Ste
vens was on the same route with a brigade of Virginia militia ; that
Colonel Marion below, and Colonel Sumter above Camden, were stim
ulating their countrymen to reassume their arms ; and that, in short,
the whole country were ready to revolt from the allegiance which had
been extorted from them but a few weeks before. He therefore per
mitted General Gates to march unmolested to Clermont (where the
Americans encamped on the 13th), and employed his men in strength
ening his post for defence, until reinforrements might arrive from
Charleston, where Lord Cornwallis was left in command, Sir Henry
Clinton having returned to New York soon after the reduction of the
former city.
Brigadier-General Stevens arrived with his Virginians at Clermont
on the 14th, and encamped with the rest of the army. On the same
day (or the 15th) an inhabitant of Camden came, as if by accident, into

368 APPENDIX.
the American encampment, and was conducted to headquarters. Ho
affected ignorance of the approach of tho Americans, pretended very
great friendship for his countrymen the Marylanders, and promised the
general to be out again in a few days with all the information the gen
eral wished to obtain. The information which he then gave was the
truth, hut not all the truth, which events afterward revealed ; yet, so
plausible was his manner, that General Gates dismissed him, with many
promises if he would faithfully observe his engagements. Suspicions
arose in the breasts of some of the officers about headquarters that this
man's errand was easily accomplished ; the credulity of the general was
not arraigned, but it was conceived that it would have been prudent to
have detained the man for further acquaintance.
Colonel Sumter, ofthe South-Carolina militia, had intelligence that
an escort with clothing, ammunition, and other stores, for the troops at
Camden, was on the road from Charleston, by way of M'Cord's ferry
on the Congaree, and that it would necessarily pass the Wateree at a
ferry about a mile from the town, under cover of a redoubt on the op
posite side of the river. This intelligence he communicated to the gen
eral, requesting a small reinforcement of infantry and two small pieces
of artillery to join his volunteers, promising to intercept the convoy.
Tho colonel's accurate knowledge ofthe geography ofthe country, and
the qualities of the men who were his followers, favored the execution
of this enterprise. The general ordered a detachment of one hundred
regular infantry, and a party of artillery with two brass field-pieces,
under Lieutenant-Colonel Woolford, to join Colonol Sumter, and act
under his command.
To attract the attention of the garrison in Camden, if they did not
choose to retire — which seemed to be but too confidently expected — and
to facilitate the execution of the little expedition under Sumter, all
other objects seemed to bo suspended.
Tho only stores which were forwarded to the army by General Ste
vens were a few articles of West-India produce, the principal of which
was molasses. No supply of provisions of any sort was collected more
than to serve from day to day. The obscure route the army had
marched actually kept their friends ignorant of their movements ; and
the arrival of General Gates at Clermont was, when known, a subject
of more surprise to the patriots than to the enemies ofthe country. It
is probable, and in the opinion of many a matter of no doubt whatever,
that it General Gates had taken a secure position with his army, and
waited only a few days, abundance of provisions would have flowed
into his camp; and that, hy the addition of volunteers from the Caro
linas, he would have acquired such a superiority over the British army,
which did not much exceed four thousand men, that he would have
found no difficulty in recovering the country as far as Charleston: but
opinions are fruitless. On the 15th of August, 1780, General Gates
issued the following : —
A*teu Gewehal Ononis.— « The sick, the extra artillery stores,

SOUTHERN ARMY  CAMPAIGN OF 1780. 369
the heavy baggage, and such quartermaster's stores as are not imme
diately wanted, to march this evening, under a guard, to Waxhaws.
" To this order the general requests the brigadier-generals to see that
those under their command pay the most exact and scrupulous obe
dience. " Lieutenant-Colonel Edmonds, with the remaining guns of the park,
will take post and march with the Virginia brigade, under General
Stevens; he will direct, as any deficiency happens in the artillery
affixed to the other brigades, to supply it immediately ; his military
staff and a proportion of his officers, with forty of his men, are to attend
him and await his orders.
" The troops will be ready to march precisely at ten o'clock, in the
following order, viz.: —
" Colonel Armand's advance ; cavalry commanded by Colonel Ar
mand ; Colonel Porterfield's light infantry upon the right flank of Colo
nel Armand, in Indian file, two hundred yards from the road; Major
Armstrong's light infantry in the same orrjer as Colonel Porterfield's,
upon the left flank of the legion.
" Advance guard of foot, composed of tho advanced pickets, first
brigade of Maryland, second brigade of Maryland, division of North
Carolina, Virginia division ; rear-guard, volunteer cavalry, upon tho
flank of the baggage, equally divided.
"In this order the troops will proceed on their march this night.
" In case of an attack by the enemy's cavalry in front, the light in
fantry upon each flank will instantly move up, and give and continue
the most galling fire upon the enemy's horse. This will enable Colo
nel Armand not only to support the shock of the enemy's charge, but
finally to rout them ; the colonel will therefore consider the order to
Btand the attack of the enemy's cavalry, be their numbers what they
may, as positive.
" General Stevens will immediately order one captain, two lieuten
ants, one ensign, three sergeants, one drum, and sixty rank and file, to
join Colonel Porterfield's infantry ; these are to be taken from the
most experienced woodsmen, and men every way the fittest for the
service. " General Caswell will likewise complete Major Armstrong's light
infantry to tlieir original number. These must be immediately marched
to the advanced posts of the army.
" The troops will observe the profoundest silence upon the march ;
and any soldier who offers to fire without the command of his officer, '
must be instantly put to death.
" When the ground will admit of it, and the near approach of the
enemy renders it necessary, the army Will (when ordered) march in
columns. " The artillery at the head of their respective brigades, and the bag
gage in the rear.
" The guard of the heavy haggtgP will he composed, of the remain-
16*

370 APPENDIX.
ing officers and soldiers of the artillery, one captain, two subalterns,
four sergeants, one drum, and sixty rank and file ; and no person what
ever is to presume to send any other soldier upon that service.
" All bat-men, waiters, &c, who are soldiers taken from the line, are
forthwith to join their regiments, and act with their masters while they
are upon duty.
" The tents of the whole army are to be struck at tattoo.''
After writing this order, the general communicated it to the deputy
adjutant-general, showing him, at the same time, a rough estimate of
the forces under his command, making them upward of seven thou
sand. That this calculation was exaggerated the deputy adjutant-gen
eral could not but suspect, from his own observation. He. therefore
availed himself of the general's orders, to call all the general officers in
the army to a council to he held in Rugley's barn — to call also upon tho
commanding officers of corps for a field return, in making which they
were to be as exact as possible ; and, as he was not required to attend
the council, he busied himself in collecting these returns and forming
an abstract for the general's better information. This abstract was pre
sented to the general just as the council broke up, and immediately
upon his coming out of the door. He cast his eyes upon the numbers
of rank and file present fit for duty, which was exactly three thousand
and fifty-two. He said there were no less than thirteen general offi
cers in council ; and intimated something about the disproportion be
tween the numbers of officers and privates. It was replied, " Sir, the
number of the latter is certainly much below the estimate formed this
morning." — "But," said tho general, "these are enough for our pur
pose." What that was, was not communicated to the deputy adjutant-
general. The general only added, " There was no dissenting voice in
the council, where the orders have just been read" — and then gave
them to be published to the army.
Although there had been no dissenting voice in the council, the or
ders were no sooner promulgated than they became the subject of ani
madversion. Even those who had been dumb in council, said that
there had been no consultation ; that the orders were read to them, and
all opinion seemed suppressed by the very positive and decisive terms
in which they were expressed. Others could not imagine how it could
be conceived that an army, consisting of more than two thirds militia,
and which had never been once exercised in arms together, could form
columns, and perform other manoeuvres in the night, and in the face
of an enemy. But, of all the officers, Colonel Armand took the greatest
exception. He seemed to think the positive orders respecting himself
jmplied a doubt of his courage ; declared that cavalry had never before
been put in the front of a lino of buttle in the dark ; and that the dis
position, as it respected his corps, proceeded from resentment in the
general, on account of a previous altercation between them about horses,
which the general had ordered to be taken from the officers of the army
|o expedite the movement of the artillery through the wildefness. A

SOUTHERN ARMY  CAMPAIGN OF 1780. 371
great deal was said upon the occasion ; hut the time was short, and the
officers and soldiers generally not knowing or believing, any more than
the general, that any considerable body of the enemy were to be met
with out of Camden, acquiesced with their usual cheerfulness, and were
ready to march at the hour appointed.
As there were no spirits yet arrived in camp, and as until lately it
was unusual for troops to make a forced inarch, or prepare to meet an
enemy, without some extraordinary allowance, it was unluckily con
ceived that molasses would, for once, be sn acceptable substitute: ac
cordingly the hospital stores were broached, and one gill of molasses
per man, and a full ration of corn-meal and meat, were issued to the
army previous to their march, which commenced, according to orders,
at about ten o'clock at night of the 15th. (But I must arrest tho prog
ress of the narrative to apologize for introducing a remark seemingly so
trivial. Nothing ought to be considered as trivial in an army which
in any degree affects the health or spirits of the troops; upon which
often, more than upon numbers, the fate of battles depends. The
troops of General Gates's army bad frequently felt the bad consequences
of eating bad provision ; but at this time, a hasty meal of quick-baked
bread and fresh beef, with a dessert of molasses mixed with mush or
dumplings, operated so cathartically as to disorder very many of the
men, who were breaking the ranks all night, and were certainly much
debilitated before the action commenced in the morning.)
It has been observed that the direct march of the American army
toward Camden, and the prospect of considerable reinforcements of
militia, had induced the commanding officer, Lord Rawdon, to collect
there all the forces under his direction ; and it is certain that the seem
ing confidence of the American general had inspired him with appre
hensions for his principal post. Lord Cornwallis, at Charleston, was
constantly advised of the posture of affairs in the interior of the country ;
and, confident that Lord Rawdon could not long resist the forces that
might and probably would be opposed to him in a very short time, re
solved to march himself, with a considerable reinforcement, to Camden.
He arrived there on the 14th, and had the discernment at once to per
ceive that delay would render that situation dangerous, even to his
whole force — the disaffection from his late assumed, arbitrary, and vin
dictive power, having become general fln'ough all the country above
General Gates's line of march, as well as to the eastward of Santee
and lo the westward of Wateree rivers. He therefore took the resolu
tion of attacking the newly-constituted American army in their open,
irregular encampment at Clermont Both armies, ignorant of each
other's intentions, moved about the same hour of the same night, and
approaching each other, met about half way between their respective
encampments at midnight.
The first revelation of this new and unexpected scene was occa
sioned by a smart mutual salutation of small-arms between the ad
vanced guards. Some of the cavalry of Armand's legion were wounded,

372 APPENDIX.
retreated, and threw the whole corps into disorder — which, recoiling
suddenly on the front of the column of infantry, disordered the first
Maryland brigade, and occasioned a general consternation through the
whole line of the army. The light infantry under Porterfield, however,
executed their orders gallantly ; and the enemy, no less astonished than
ourselves, seemed to acquiesce in a sudden suspension of hostilities.
Some prisoners were taken on both sides. From one of these the dep
uty adjutant-general of the American army extorted information re
specting the situation and numbers of the enemy. He informed that
Lord Cornwallis commanded in person about three thousand regular
British troops, which were in line of march about five or six hundred
yards in front. Order was soon restored in the corps of infantry in the
American army, and the officers were employed in forming a front line
of battle, when the deputy adjutant-general communicated to General
Gates the information which he had from the prisoner. The general's
astonishment could not be concealed. He ordered the deputy adjutant-
general to call another council of war. All tho general officers imme
diately assembled in the rear of the line. The unwelcome news was
communicated to them. General Gates said, " Gentlemen, what is best
to be done!" All were mute for a few moments, when the gallant
Stevens exclaimed, " Gentlemen, is it not too late now to do anything
but fight 1" No other advice was offered, and the general desired that
the gentlemen would repair to their respective commands.
The baron De Kalb's opinion may be inferred from the following
fact. When the deputy adjutant-general went to call him to council,
he first told him what had been discovered. " Well," said the baron,
" and has the general given you orders to retreat the army'!" The
baron, however, did not oppose tho suggestion of General Stevens, and
every measure that ensued was preparatory for action.
Lieutenant-Colonel Porterfield, in whose bravery and judicious con
duct great dependence was placed, received in the first rencontre a mor
tal wound (as it long afterward proved), and was obliged to retire.
His infantry bravely kept the ground in front, and tho American army
was formed in the following order: the Maryland division, including
the Delawares, on the right ; the North-Carolina militia in the centre ;
and the Virginia militia on the left. It happened that each flank was
covered by a marsh, so near as to admit the removing of the first Ma
ryland brigade to form a second line, about two hundred yards in the
rear of the first. The artillery was removed from the centre of the
brigades, and placed in the centre of the front lino ; and the North-
Carolina militia (light infantry), under Major Armstrong, which had
retreated at the first rencontre, was ordered to pover a small interva,
between the left wing and the swampy grounds on that quarter.
Frequent skirmishes happened during the night between the ad-
vanced parties, which served to discover the relative situations of the
two armies, and as a prelude to what was to take place in the morning.
At dawn of day (on the morning of the 16th of August) the enemy

SOUTHERN ARMY  CAMPAIGN OF 1780. 373
appeared in front, advancing in column. Captain Singleton, who com
manded some pieces of artillery, observed to Colonel Williams that he
plainly perceived the ground ofthe British uniform at about two hun
dred yards in front. The deputy adjutant-general'immediately ordered
Captain Singleton to open his battery, and then rode to the general,
who was in tho rear of tho second line, and informed him of the cause
of the firing which he heard. He also observed to the general that the
enemy seemed to be displaying their column by the right ; the nature
of the ground favored this conjecture, for yet nothing was clear.
The general seemed disposed to wait events ; ho gave no orders.
The deputy adjutant-general observed that if the enemy, in the act of
displaying, were briskly attacked by General Stevens's brigade, which
w«s already in line of battle, the effect might be fortunate, and first
impressions were important. " Sir," said the general, " that's right —
let it be done." This was the last order that the deputy adjutant-gen
eral received. He hastened to General Stevens, who instantly advanced
with his brigade, apparently in fine spirits. The right wing of the en
emy was soon discovered in line ,• it was too lato to attack them dis
playing ; nevertheless, the business of the day could no longer be de
ferred. The deputy adjutant-general requested General Stevens to let
him have forty or fifty privates, volunteers, who would run forward of
the brigade and commence the attack. They were led forward within
forty or fifty yards of the enemy, and ordered to take trees and keep
up as brisk a fire as possible. The desired effect of this expedient — to
extort the enemy's fire at some distance, in order to the rendering it
less terrible to the militia — was not gained. General Stevens, observ
ing the enemy to rush on, put his men in mind of their bayonets ; but
the impetuosity with which they advanced, firing and huzzaing, threw
the whole body of the militia into such a panic, that they generally
threw down their loaded arms and fled in the utmost consternation !
Tho unworthy example of the Virginians was almost instantly followed
by the North-Carolinians ; only a small part of the brigade, commanded
by Brigadier-General Gregory, made a short pause. A part of Dixon's
regiment, of that brigade, next in the line to the second Maryland
brigade, fired two or three rounds of cartridge. But a great majority
of the militia (at least two thirds of the army) fled without firing a shot.
The writer avers it of his own knowledge, having seen and observed
every part of the army, from left to right, during the action. He who
has never seen the effect of a panic upon a multitude, can have but an
imperfect idea of such a thing. The best disciplined troops have been
enervated and made cowards by it. Armies have been routed by it,
even where no enemy appeared to furnish an excuse. Like electricity,
it operates instantaneously — like sympathy, it is irresistible where it
touches. But, in the present instance, its action was not universal. The reg
ular troops, who had the keen edge of sensibility rubbed off by strict
discipline and hard service, saw the confusion with but little emotion.

374 APPENDIX.
They engaged seriously in the affair ; and, notwithstanding some irreg
ularity, which was created by the militia breaking pell-mell through
the second line, order was restored there time enough to give the enemy
a severe check, which abated the fury of their assault, and obliged them
to assume a more deliberate manner of acting. The second Maryland
brigade, including the battalion of Delawares, on the right, were en
gaged with the enemy's left, which they opposed with very great firm
ness. They even advanced upon them, and had taken a number of
prisoners, when their companions of the first brigade (which formed
the second line), being greatly outflanked, and charged by superior
numbers, were obliged to give ground. At this critical moment tho
regimental officers of the latter brigade, reluctant to leave the field
without orders, inquired for their commanding officer (Brigadier-Gen
eral Smallwood), who, however, was not to he found; notwithstanding,
Colonel Gunby, Major Anderson, and a number of other brave offi
cers, assisted hy the deputy adjutant-general, and Major Jones, one of
Smallwood's aids, rallied the brigade, and renewed the contest. Again
they were obliged to give way, and were again rallied ; the second
brigade were still warmly engaged ; the distance between the two brig
ades did not exceed two hundred yards, their opposite flanks being
nearly upon a line perpendicular to their front. At this eventful junc
ture the deputy adjutant-general, anxious that the communication be
tween them should be preserved, and wishing that, in the almost cer
tain event of a retreat, some, order might be sustained by them, hastened
from the first to the second brigade, which he found precisely in the
same circumstances. He called upon his own regiment (the sixth
Maryland) not to fly, and was answered by the lieutenant-colonel, Ford,
who said — " They have done all that can be expected of them ; we are
outnumbered and outflanked. See, the enemy charge with bayonets."
The enemy, having collected their corps, and directing their whole force
against these two devoted brigades, a tremendous fire of musketry was
for some time kept up on both sides, with equal perseverance and ob
stinacy, until Lord Cornwallis, perceiving that there was no cavalry
opposed to him, pushed forward his dragoons — and his infantry charg
ing at the same moment with fixed bayonets, put an end to the con
test. His victory was complete. All the artillery and a very great
number of prisoners fell into his hands; many fine fellows lay on the
field, and the rout of the remainder was entire. Not even a company
retired in any order ; every one escaped as he could.
If, in this affair, the militia fled too soon, the regulars may be thought
almost as blamable for remaining too long on the field, especially after
all hope of victory must have been despaired of. .Let the command
ants of Ihe brigades answer for themselves. Allow the same privilege
to the officers of the corps comprising those brigades, and they will say
that they never received orders to retreat, nor any order from any gen
eral officer, from the coinmencemcnt of the action until it became des
perate. The brave major-general, the baron De Kalb, fought on foot,

SOUTHERN ARMY  CAMPAIGN OF 1780. 375
with the second brigade, and fell, mortally wounded, into the hands of
the enemy, who stripped him even of his shirt — a fate which probably
was avoided by other generals only by an opportune retreat.
The torrent of unarmed militia bore away with it Generals Gates,
Caswell, and a number of others, who soon saw that all was lost.
General Gates at first conceived a hope, that he mighf rally at Cler
mont a sufficient number to cover the retreat of the regulars ; hut, the
farther they fled, the more they were dispersed, and the generals soon
found themselves abandoned by all but their aids.
Lieutenant-Colonel Senf, who had been on the expedition with Colo
nel Sumter, returned, and overtaking General Gates, informed him of
their complete success ; that the enemy's redoubt on the Wateree, op
posite to Camden, was first reduced, and the convoy of stores, &c,
from Charleston, was decoyed and became a prize to the American party
almost without resistance; that upward of one hundred prisoners and
forty loaded wagons were in the hands of the party, who had sustained
very little loss. But the general could avail himself nothing of this
trilling advantage. The detachment under Sumter was on the oppo
site side of the Wateree, marching off as speedily as might be, to secure
their booty, for the course of the firing in the morning indicated unfa
vorable news from the army.
The militia, the general saw, were in air; and the regulars, he feared,
were no more. The dreadful thunder of artillery and musketry had
ceased, and none of his friends appeared. There was no existing corps
with which the victorious detachment might unite, and the Americans
had no post in the rear. He therefore sent orders to Sumter to retire
in the best manner ho could, and proceeded himself with General Cas
well toward Charlotte, an open village on a plain, about sixty miles
from the fatal scene of action. The Virginians, who knew nothing of
the country they were in, involuntarily reversed the route they came,
and fled, most of them, to Hillsborough. General Stevens followed
them, and halted there as many as were not sufficiently refreshed, be
fore his arrival, to pursue their way home. Their terms of service,
however, being very short, and no prospect presenting itself to afford
another proof of their courage, General Stevens soon afterward dis
charged them.
The North-Carolina mililia fled different ways, as their hopes led or
their fears drove them. Most of them preferring the shortest way
home, scattered through the wilderness which lies between the Wa
teree and Pedee rivers, and thence toward Roanoke. Whatever these
might have suffered from the disaffected, they were probably not worse
off than those who retired the way they came — wherein they met
many of their friends, armed, and advancing to join the American army ;
but, learning its fate from the refugees, they acted decidedly in concert
with the victors — and capturing some, plundering others, and maltreat
ing all the fugitives they met, returned exultingly home. They even
added taunts to their perfidy : one of a party, who robbed Brigadier-

376 APPENDIX.
General Butler of his sword, consoled him by saying, " You '11 Dave no
further use for it."
The regular troops, it has been observed, were the last to quit tho
field. Every corps was broken and dispersed ; even the bogs and brush,
which in some measure served to screen them from their furious pur
suers, separated them from one another. Major Anderson was the
only officer who fortunately rallied, as he retreated, a few men of dif
ferent companies, and whose prudence and firmness afforded protection
to those who joined his party on the route.
Colonel Gunby, Lieutenant-Colonel Howard, Captain Kirkwood,
and Captain Dobson, with a few other officers, and fifty or sixty men,
formed a junction on the route, and proceeded together.
The general order for moving off the heavy baggage, &c, to Wax-
haws, was not put in execution, as directed to be done, on the prece
ding evening. The whole of it consequently fell into the hands of the
enemy, as well as all that which followed the army, except the wagons of
General Gates and De Kalb, which, being furnished with the stoutest
horses, fortunately escaped, under the protection of a small quarter-
guard. Other wagons also had got out of danger from the enemy ; but
the cries of the women and the wounded in the rear, and the conster
nation of the flying troops, so alarmed some of the wagoners, that they
cut out their teams, and taking each a horse, left the rest for the next
that should come. Others were obliged to give up tlieir horses to as
sist in carrying off the wounded ; and the whole road for many miles
was strewed with signals of distress, confusion, and dismay.
What added not a little to this calamitous scene was the conduct of
Armand's legion. They were principally foreigners, and some of them
probably not unaccustomed to such scenes. Whether it was owing to
the disgust of the colonel at general orders, or the cowardice of his
men, is not with the writer to determine ; but certain it is that the le
gion did not take any part in the action of the 1 6th ; they retired early
and in disorder, and were seen plundering the baggage ofthe army on
their retreat. One of them cut Captain Lemar, of the Maryland in
fantry, over the hand, for attempting to reclaim his own portmanteau,
which the fellow was taking out of the wagon. Captain Lemar was
unarmed, having broken his sword in action, and was obliged to sub
mit both to the loss and to the insult. The tent-covers were thrown
off the wagons generally, and the baggage exposed, so that one might
take what suited him to carry off. General Caswell's mess-wagon
afforded the best refreshment : very unexpectedly to the writer, he
there found a pipe of good Madeira, broached and surrounded hy a
number of soldiers, whose appearance led him to inquire what engaged
their attention. He acknowledges that in this instance he shared tho
booty, and look a draught of wine, which was the only refreshment he
had received that day.
But the catastrophe being over, before we pursue a detail of all it»
distressing consequences, it may be excusable to consider whether tho

SOUTHERN ARMY  CAMPAIGN OF 1780. 377
measures which led to the necessity of fighting a general battle were
justifiable, and whether such an event might not have been avoided at
almost any time before the two armies were actually opposed.
If General Gates intended to risk a general action, conscious of all
circumstances, he certainly made that risk under every possible disad
vantage j and a contemplation of those oircumstanreg would seem to
justify Colonel Armand's assertion, made in the afternoon of the day
in which the bottle was fought: "I will not," said he, "say that we
have been betrayed ; but if it had been the purpose of the general to
sacrifice his army, what could he have done more effectually to have
answered that purpose 1"
General Gates, however, notwithstanding his after order ofthe 15th,
had, in the opinion of most of his officers, and particularly of the writer,
no more apprehension of meeting the enemy in force than the least-
informed man of his army. The circuitous route, first recommended
to him, would certainly have been the safest and best. Magazines, an
armory, a hospital, and even fortified posts, might have been estab
lished, without halting the effective force of the army — posts to which
they might, in case of disaster, have retired under protection of the
patriotic militia of Mecklenburg and Roan counties, who only wanted
time to join the army in respectable numbers. Such at least were
their subsequent declarations, and such their subsequent conduct ren
dered most probable.
But, even on the route the army had marched, the danger of meet
ing an enemy of equal or superior force was passed when they got into
the vicinity of the Wateree, and in the neighborhood of their friends.
It was only necessary for General Gates to have been informed of the
march of Lord Cornwallis from Charleston, to have avoided, almost as
long as he pleased, a conflict between the two armies.
In the opinion of the writer it was not too late, even after Lord
Cornwallis reached Camden. If, instead of meeting him involuntarily,
General Gates had been informed of his intended movement, and qui
etly in the afternoon of the 15th have followed with his whole army
the detachment under Woolford, over the Wateree, it would have been
impossible for the armies to have met until the next day, and after the
success of Sumter's expedition. If his lordship should then have thought
of forcing a passage over the Wateree, General Gates wonld have hod
tbe alternative of opposing him Under that disadvantage, or of retiring
to any position he might prefer higher up the river. Lord Cornwallis
could not have adventured the passage of the river much above Gates's
army, because, the river being fordable in many places, his garrison and
magazines at Camden would have been jeoparded : the forces he could
afford to leave for its defence would have been insufficient for half a *
day ; and, if the post and its stores had been gained by the Americans,
the British army, destitute of supplies, would have been obliged to re
tire toward Charleston. On the other hand, if his lordship should
keep his post in his rear, he must consequently leave the communica-

378 APPENDIX.
tion open between the American army and their friends in the upper
country, which would have rendered more practicable the avoiding of
a general engagement. But these are subsequent reflections on meas
ures, the idea of which perhaps never occurred nor was suggested to
the general. Involved as he was in the necessity of fighting, the dis
position which was made for battle, after the alarm, was perhaps un
exceptionable, and as well adapted to the situation as if the ground
had been reconnoitred and chosen by the ablest officer in the army of
tho United States. (It was afterward approved hy tho» judicious and
gallant General Greene, to whom the writer had the solemn pleasuro
of showing the field of battle, and with whom he had the additional
mortification of participating the danger and disgrace of a repulse near
the same place, the very next campaign.)
The only apology that General Gates condescended to make to the
army for the loss of the battle was, "A man may pit a cock, hut ho
can't make him fight; the fate of battle is uncontrollable" — and such
other common maxims as admit of no contradiction.
It is, however, morally certain, considering the disposition of the
citizens generally, and the respectable body of militia that had already
joined the army, that time was, of all things, the most important to
the success of General Gates's army.
Lord Cornwallis, conscious of this truth, and of the disadvantage
which the least lapse would prove to him, seized the first moment to
hasten the decision of an experiment which was to gain or lose the
country, for that season at least — perhaps for ever.
Generals Gales and Caswell arrived at Charlotte on the night ofthe
action. The ensuing morning presented nothing to them hut an open
village, with but few inhabitants, and the remains of a temporary hos
pital, containing a few maimed soldiers of Colonel Buford's unfortu
nate corps, which had been cut to pieces on the retreat, after the sur
render of Charleston.
General Caswell was requested to remain there, to encourage the
militia of the country, who were to rendezvous there in three days
(as it was first intended), to countenance the reassembling of the Amer
ican army. General Gates perceived no effectual succor short of Hills
borough, where the general assembly of North Carolina were about to
convene ; thither he repaired with all possible expedition, and was fol
lowed the next day by General Caswell, who despaired of the meeting
of the militia — probably because he thought that their first object, the
army, was annihilated.
On the two days succeeding the fatal action, Brigadier-General Gist,
who commanded the second brigade of Maryland troops previous to its
misfortune at Charlotte, arrived with only two or three attendants, who
had fallen into his route. Several field officers and many officers of
the line also arrived, similarly circumstanced ; and, although not moro
than about a dozen men of different corps arrived in irregular squads
from time to timo, not less than one hundred infantry were collected in

SOUTHERN ARMY  CAMPAIGN OF 1780, 379
the village within that time, besides Armand's cavalry, which was very
little reduced, and a small corps of mounted militia, which retired from
the Waxhaw settlement, under the command of Major Davy, an en
terprising and gallant young man who had been raising volunteer cav
alry to join the army. Very few ofthe fugitive militia resorted to this
place. Fortunately, there was a small supply of provisions in the town ; the
inhabitants did all they could to refresh both men and officers ; and by
the provident care of Colonel Hall, of Maryland," a quantity of flour was
sent back on the route of the retreating troops.
Brigadier-General Smallwood, who had the honor of the second line,
or corps de reserve, assigned him in the late action, deliberately came
in on the morning (or about noon) of the 18th, escorted by one of his
aids-de-camp, two or three other gentlemen, and about as many sol
diers, all mounted. His route was by way of the Wateree.
The small squads assembled by Major Anderson and the other offi
cers already mentioned were on the direct route. TKe latter were not
yet arrived, but were hourly expected ; and afforded, in addition to those
already collected and those with Colonel Sumter, a prospect of forming
such a body as might still encourage tho militia to form at least the sem
blance of an army, which might keep up some appearance of opposition
until the resources of the Union could be called forth by Congress or
by the states most immediately interested.
An incident which occasioned great distress the next day must be
here related. It has been observed that many of the wagoners and
retreating troops accelerated their flight by taking horses from the wag
ons which were left on the route. In this way many wounded officers
and soldiers made their escape, and bore with astonishing fortitude the
pains incident to their situation. They gave, indeed (some of them),
proofs of the utmost pain and fatigue that the human constitution can
bear; others sank under their accumulated distresses. Those who ar
rived at Charlotte were taken the best possible care of; the horses were
turned out to graze in the adjacent fields, no forage being provided.
It should have been remarked that the tribe of Catawba Indians, good
friends to the Americans, quitted their villages on the Wateree, and
followed the remnant ofthe army toward the town of Charlotte, where
many of them had already arrived. Some of them, in their irregular
way, fired a number of guns after nightfall on the 18th, which gave a
very general alarm, and many of the people fled in the night, taking
ns many of the horses as they could find or had occasion for.
Another incident, much moro consequential ! The morning of the
19lh was fair, and the officers were assembling about the public square
and encouraging one another with hopes of a more favorable course of
affairs than had been current for some time past, when they received
unquestionable information that Colonel Sumter, whose arrival they
looked for every moment, was completely surprised the preceding day,

380 APPENDIX.
and the whole party killed, captured, or dispersed ! Dead or alive, he
was censured for suffering a surprise. i
No organization nor order had yet been attempted to be restored
among the few troops that had arrived in Charlotte ; the privates were
therefore hastily formed into ranks, and the officers were among them
selves adjusting the commands to be taken by them respectively, when
the number of supernumerary officers was discovered to be very con
siderable. Every one, however, took some charge upon himself. The
care of the wounded, the collection of provisions, the transportation of
the heavy baggage (preserved by Major Dean's small guard), and other
matters which might in any way alleviate the general distress, engaged
the attention of those who had no division of the men.
There was no council, nor regular opinion taken respecting this irk
some situation. The general idea was that Charlotte, an open, wooded
village, without magazines of any sort, without a second cartridge per
man, and without a second ration, was not tenable for an hour against
superior numbers which might enter at every quarter. Moreover, it
was estimated by those who knew the geography of the country, that
even the victorious enemy might be iu the vieinily of the place. It
was admitted by every one that no place could be more defenceless.
Only one officer, who was of the legion, proposed a temporary de
fence, by pulling down the houses and forming a redoubt, which might
induce the enemy to grant a capitulation. No respect was paid to this
destructive proposition, and the first suggestion prevailed.
Difficulties almost innumerable presented themselves to obstruct a
march. Several officers with small parties were known to be on tho
routu from Camden ; some refugees might possibly escape from Sum
ter's detachment; many of the wounded were obliged to be left in the
old hospital, dependent probably on the enemy or on a few of the in
habitants who were unable to retire ; and even some who might have
have got off on horseback were deprived of the means by the alarming
incident of the preceding night. Were all these to be abandoned 7
Time was never more important to a set of wretches than now ; but
how to take it — whether " by the forelock," as the adage is, or wait its
more propitious moments — none of us could decisively resolve. Brig
adier-General Sma4lwood, who quartered himself at a farmhouse a little
way from town, appeared at this crisis approaching the parade in his
usual slow pace. As senior officer, his orders would have been obeyed,
even to setting about fortifying th village ; hut being informed of what
has just been related, and concur' ng in the general sentiment, he leis
urely put himself at tho head of the party and moved off toward Salis
bury. Tho deputy adjutant-general and Brigado-Major Davidson took
tlie route to Camden, iu order to direct all they might meet to file off
toward Salisbury. The small parties that had attached themselves to
Colonel Gunby and Colonel Howard were met near town, and -an ex
press was sent to Major Anderson, who had, to no purpose, spent some
time in endeavors to bring off some wagons which had escaped beyond

SOUTHERN ARMY  CAMPAIGN OF 1780. 581
the pursuit of the enemy and were left without horses. By noon a
very lengthy line of march occupied the road from Charlotte to Salis
bury. It consisted of the wretched remnant of the late southern army,
a great number of distressed whig families, and the whole tribe of Ca
tawba Indians (about three hundred in number, some fifty or sixty of
whom were warriors, but indifferently armed). Among the rest were
six soldiers who had left the hospitals with other convalescents ; tkey
had all suffered in Buford's unfortunate affair, and had but two sound
arms among them — indeed, four of them had not one arm among them,
and two only an arm apiece:- each of them had one linen garment.
Those officers and men who were recently wounded, and had resolu
tion to undertake the fatigue, were differently transported — some in
wagons, some in litters, and some on horseback. Their sufferings were
indescribable. The distresses of the women and children who fled from
Charlotte and its neighborhood — the nakedness of tbe Indians, and the
number of their infants and aged persons — and the disorder of tho
whole line of march — conspired to render it a scene too picturesque
and complicated for description. A just representation would exhibit
an imago of compound wretchedness; care, anxiety, pain, poverty,
hurry, confusion, humiliation, and dejection, would be characteristic
traits in the mortifying picture.
Tho inhabitants who had fled with their families soon began to dis
perse and take refuge among their friends in the interior of the coun
try. The Catawbas had a district of country assigned them for hunting-
grounds in North Carolina. Brigadier-General Smallwood continued
the march of the regular infantry to Salisbury,- and arrived the third
day after. Armand's legion proceeded as they threatened when it was
resolved to evacuate Charlotte: " If," said one of the officers, "you
will make de retreat, we will retreat faster dan you 1" They proceeded
to Hillsborough. The fertility of the country between Charlotte and
Salisbury, the hospitality and benevolence of the inhabitants, and the
numbers of their habitations on the route, afforded in many instances
that relief which was requisite to preserve life, besides a liberal supply
of provisions for all this cavalcade.
It is not known whether, if tho Americans had not evacuated Char
lotte, Lord Cornwallis would not have made it an object to dispossess
them; but as it was, his lordship contented himself with having de
feated the southern army, driven it out of South Carolina, and cut up
the only detachment respectable enough to afford a head to which the
patriots of the country might assemble. His lordship certainly gavo
the world another instance in proof of the assertion that it is not every
general, upon whom fortune bestows her favors, who knows how to
avail himself of all the advantages which aro presented to him. Vic
tory is not always attended — perhaps never — with all the superiority it
seems to bestow. The British army retired to Camden.
So unexpected an event gave the poor Americans time to breathe.
General Smallwood halted hia party at Salisbury, selected about ono

382 APPENDIX.
hundred and fifty effective men, and sent the remainder, perhaps fifty
or sixty more, over tho Yadkin river, with the wagons, women, &c.
The effectives he officered according to his pleasure, and permitted the
field officers, particularly those who had not formerly belonged to his
brigade, to proceed to Hillsborough. Hall, Williams, and Howard,
were of the number, who availed themselves at their leisure of this
permission. At Salisbury, one hundred and twenty or thirty miles
from the scene of the late action, Smallwood took time to dictate those
letters which he addressed to Congress, and in which he intimated the
great difficulties he had encountered and the exertions he had made to
save a remnant of General Gates's army — letters which, with the aid
of those he addressed to his friends in power, procured him, it was gen
erally believed in the line, the rank of »na/or-general in the army of
the United States, and which probably prompted the resolution of
Congress directing^n inquiry into the conduct of General Gates. But
many of the officers wrote to their friends from Salisbury, and being
chagrined and mortified at not overtaking their commanding general in
so long a retreat, expressed themselves with great disgust and freedom.
Major Anderson, who casualty heard of the retreat of the detachment
that had surprised Sumter, proceeded to Charlotte, where he found the
militia inspirited by a change of circumstances, disposed to organize
themselves, and form such corps as might protect the country from the
incursions of the enemy, which might be expected from Camden. They
requested the major to remain at Charlotte, and through him invited
General Smallwood to return, importuning him, and even offering him
the chief command of the militia of Mecklenburg — General Caswell,
their countryman, having, as they alleged, abandoned them even before
the expiration of the three days in which he had ordered them to as
semble at Charlotte.
General Smallwood, however, declined the honor of this invitation,
and sent orders to Major Anderson to join him without delay at Salis
bury ; and in order that these instructions might not be dispensed with
on any pretence whatever, Lieutenant-Colonel Ford, the particular
friend of Anderson, was charged with them and with directions to ex
pedite the march of the party. The order was executed, and the mor
tified mililia were left to depend upon their own exertions and their
own fortitude, which, notwithstanding the discouragements they had
met with, did not fail. They assembled, formed themselves into small
partisan corps — and actually combated successfully the first detach
ments of the enemy that afterward came into their country. These
are facts which entitle the patriots of Mecklenburg and Waxhaws to a
whole page of eulogium in the best history that shall record the cir
cumstances of the revolution.
The unfortunate General Gates, at Hillsborough, where the assem
bly of the state had convened, hearing from the officers who arrived
there that the disasters of the army were not so completely ruinous as
he had at first apprehended, applied himself assiduously to tho legisla-

SOUTHERN ARMY  EVENTS SUBSEQUENT TO 1780, 383
ture for the supplies necessary to re-equip the regular troops. But
what supplies, or rather the quantum, that would be requisite, the gen
eral could not ascertain, having received no returns or reports of any
kind from General Smallwood, who seemed to assume the command
of the army.
In order therefore to obtain the requisite information, and to decide
at once the doubt about command, General Gates wrote explicitly to
General Smallwood, and ordered him to pass the Yadkin river with all
the men under his command, and to proceed on the direct route to
Hillsborough. This order had been anticipated : it was leceived by
General Smallwood after he had passed the Yadkin and was on his
march to Guilford Courthouse, on the route directed. At Guilford the
troops were halted for refreshment; and, as there was a great plenty
of provisions in the neighborhood, General Smallwood, without regard
ing the instructions he had received from General Gates, wrote to the
assembly ofthe state, intimating that, with their approbation, he would
continue there until other arrangements should be resolved on. The
assembly properly declined interfering in matters which might involve
a question of authority between two continental officers, and referred
the proposition of General Smallwood to General Gates. General
Gates did not entirely disapprove of the execution of the proposition,
but in his letter to General Smallwood he required that certain returns,
&c, should be forwarded to him without delay, and gave such explicit
intimations that he was not disposed to relinquish his command of the
southern army, as to induce General Smallwood to suspend for the
present his hopes of succeeding thereto. He therefore marched imme
diately to Hillsborough, where he arrived with the tattered remains of
the army early in the month of September. Thus ended the campaign
of 1780.

A NARRATIVE OF EVENTS RELATIVE TO THE SOUTHERN ARMr.SUBSEQUENT
TO THE ARRIVAL OF GENERAL GATES'S BROKEN BATTALIONS AT HILLS
BOROUGH, 1780.
Hills horouoii had been a place of rendezvous for all the militia
raised in the interior of North Carolina, and a stage of refreshment for
all the troops which had marched from the northward to succor Charles
ton or reinforce the southern army ; consequently the resources of the coun-
try.had been collected and generally applied. What remained did not af
ford an ample supply even for the fugitives ofthe late army, which were
now collected in the town, and were cantoned, some in the houses of the
inhabitants, and some in tents pitched near the courthouse, where the
assembly of the state was convened. The assembly saw and regretted
the wants of the troops, and did all that was then practicable for their
relief. A comfortable supply of fresh meat, corn-meal, and wheat-flour,
was procured for the hospital, and the rest of the men were subsisted
by provisions furnished by state commissaries in part and partly by tho

384 APPENDIX.
old expedient of collecting by detachments — an expedient which gave
great umbrage to the country.
At this time Lord Cornwallis was with the principal part of his army
at Camden, where his own wounded and those of the American army
were very differently treated.
The worse than savage system of severity suggested by the malice
of the king's minister, or conceived by the malignity of the king him
self, which had been so fatally practised upon the prisoners in New
York and Philadelphia, was now practised with equal barbarity on the
prisoners taken in the southern department. . Everywhere they were
treated with cruel neglect or insolent severity. The difference of cli
mates made some difference in consequences.
Tho same treatment, or rather worse, was suffered by the inhabitants
of the country who had ever been in arms, or were even suspected of
disloyalty. Some who were accused of having received protections and
violated tho conditions were hung without any form of trial ! Prompt
punishments for supposed crimes were infiicted at the will of superior
officers in the different British garrisons, and every measure was adopted
which the arrogance of power could devise, to subjugate the minds as
well as the privileges of the people. The want of energy in the union
of the United States and the imbecility of the states themselves gave
great latitude to the effect of the British measures. Their emissaries
were in all parts of the country, and were but too successful in the
lower counties of North Carolina, where the inhabitants, except in and
near the seaport towns, began to be generally disaffected to the Ameri
can cause. Even in Chatham county a considerable body took arms
and threatened to disperse the assembly of the state from Hillsborough.
Indeed, so serious was the alarm upon this occasion, that to guard
against a surprise of the town on a night when the insurgents were
confidently expected, all the troops were kept under arms the whole
night. As no arrangement had yet taken place, General Gates de
sired Colonel Williams to command them. Tho inhabitants were or
dered to arm, and even the members of the assembly thought it incum
bent on them to arm themselves also. The following fact may illustrate
their character, as well for patriotism as soldiership : —
It was requested that a regular officer would lend his assistance in
arranging the militia. The members of the assembly were collected
near the courthouse (the seat of government), and were arming them
selves when the officer arrived, who, taking them for the militia who
stood in need of an adjutant, began tho exercise of that office, and mar
shalled them in a manner which showed no respect for them as legis
lators. No exception, howevor, was taken to the conduct of tho officer.
The circumstance was mentioned afterward, only as ono of those ludi
crous incidents (and there were many) which occurred during the night
of the alarm. Although the alarm proved false, it proved no less cer
tain that the enterprise might have been effected by a few brave men,
even on that very night. The hurry and confusion which it occa

SOUTHERN ARMY  EVENTS SUBSEQUENT TO 1760. 385
Bioned discovered the expediency of re-establishing order among the -
troops, and every other man seemed to feel the obligation of giving his
assistance as well to provide for present necessities as against future
contingencies. Influenced by motives not to bo disregarded, the gov
ernment of North Carolina soon began to exert all its powers. The
second class ofthe militia were ordered to assemble immediately; com
missaries, quartermasters, and agents, with extensive powers, were ap
pointed to procure every article requisite for another campaign ; and,
for want of funds (for the paper-money of the United States was now
depreciated below calculation), these officers were authorized to take,
on the account of government, all military stores, arms, provisions,
clothing, &c, that were to be found, and to grant receipts or certificates
for the same.
Notwithstanding that the disasters of the southern army, and a sense
of common danger, had seemingly obliterated all recollection of former
differences and animosities among the officers of the regular corps, it
ought not to be dissembled that such were arron;r the causes which,
for a littlo time, postponed the now organization of tho troops.
What cause General Gates had to apprehend being superseded in
the command of the southern army, may be conjectured by those who
have a knowledge of the facts ; but what reason General Smallwood
could have to hope to become his successor, none who are not grossly
imposed on can possibly imagine.
The misunderstanding between these two officers was never, I be
lieve, avowed ; but, as Gates reassumed his command, Smallwood retired
from it.
General Gist was not ambitious of the command of men so circum
stanced; and, in fact, many other officers wished for an opportunity of
returning home without a laurel or a scar.
A board of officers, convened by order of General Gates, determined
that all the effective men should be formed into two battalions, consti
tuting one regiment, to be completely officered, and provided for in the
best possible manner that circumstances would admit. The sick and
convalescent -were to remain, but all the invalids were to be sent home ;
and the supernumerary officers were to repair to their respective states,
to assist in the recruiting service.
The command of the newly-formed regiment was given to Colonel
Williams and Lieutenant-Colonel Howard. Majors Anderson and
Hardman commanded tho battalions.
No sooner were these officers invested with command, than they
began to restore order and discipline among the troops ; and the colonel,
who was inspector of the Maryland division of the army of the United
States (comprehending the quota of Delaware also), demanded a gen
eral order, before any of the officers should depart, for the most correct
returns that could be made under present circumstances, accounting as
well for the men as for their arms, accoutrements, &c, &c. The latter
part of the order could not be complied with in anv satisfactory degree ;
17

386 APPENDIX.
but after some time, the officers, hy comparing notes and recollecnng
circumstances, rendered returns, from which the following abstracts
were taken : —
Total of Maryland troops: Three colonels, four lieutenant-colonels,
five majors, thirty-eight captains, fifty subalterns, twenty-four staff-offi
cers, eighty-five non-commissioned officers, sixty-two musicians, and
seven hundred and eighty-one rank and file.
.The numbers which were killed, captured, and missing, since tho
last muster, could not with any accuracy be ascertained. The aggre
gate was — three lieutenant-colonels, two majors, fifteen captains, thir
teen subalterns, two staff-officers, fifty-two non-commissioned officers,
thirty-four musicians, and seven hundred and eleven rank and file.
These, at least a very great majority of them, and all of them for aught I
know, fell in the field, or into the hands ofthe enemy, on the fatal 16th
of August. It is extremely probable that the number killed much ex
ceeded the number taken prisoners.
The Delaware regiment being mustered, the returns stood thus : Four
captains, seven subalterns, three staff-officers, nineteen non-commissioned
officers, eleven musicians, and one hundred and forty-five rank and file,
in actual service, &c., &c, &c. Eleven commissioned officers and thirty-
six privates of the Delaware regiment fell into the hands of the enemy.
These details may not be unessential to those who have been con
cerned in the affairs of the late campaign, and may give satisfaction to
those of my friends who may wish hereafter to have a true knowledge
of circumstances.
The inhabitants of Hillsborough soon began to experience and com
plain of the. inconvenience of having soldiers billeted among them ; and
the officers were equally sensible of the difficulty of restraining the
licentiousness ofthe soldiers, when not immediately under their obser
vation. Williams therefore drew his regiment out of town, distributing
the few tents he had among the several companies. He encamped on
a vacant farm, or rather in the woodland belonging to it, and covered
his men with wigwams made offence-rails, poles, and corn-tops, regu
larly disposed. The tents were chiefly occupied by the officers, but as
they were all much worn, wigwams were soon preferred, on account
of their being much warmer.
The usual camp guards and sentinels being posted, no person could
come into or go out of camp without a permit. Parade duties were
regularly attended, as well by officers as soldiers, and discipline not
only began to be perfectly restored, but even gave an air of stability
and confidence to the regiment, which all their rags could not disguise.
Ill this encampment no circumstance of want or distress was admitted
as an excuse lor relaxing from tho strictest discipline, to which this sol
diers the more cheerfully submitted, as th.ey saw their officers constantly
occupied in procuring for thern whatever was attainable in their situ
ation. Absolutely without pay, almost destitute of clothing, often with only

SOUTHERN ARMY  EVENTS SUBSEQUENT TO 1780. 387
a half ration, and never with n whole one (without substituting one
article, for another), not a soldier was heard to murmur after the third
or fourth day of their being encamped. Instead of meeting and con
ferring in small, sullen squads, as they bad formerly done, they filled
up the intervals from duty with manly exercises and field-sports; in
short, the officers had very soon the entire confidence ofthe men, who
divested themselves of all unnecessary care, and devoted themselves to
duty and pastime, within the limits assigned them.
The docility and contentment of the troops were the more extraor
dinary, as they were not unfrequently reminded (when permitted to go
into the country) how differently the British troops were provided for.
The article of rum, the most desirable refreshment to soldiers, was
mentioned among other inducements for them to desert ; but so great
was their fidelity to the cause, or so strong their attachment to their
fellow sufferers and soldiers, that they not only rejected the most flat
tering propositions to go over to the enemy, but they absolutely brought
some of the most bold and importunate incendiaries into camp, who
were delivered to the civil authority, and some of them punished. .
If any of my friends should inquire why I descend to particulars so
minute and unimportant, I answer that I am not writing a history of
the revolution, nor of the proceedings of government; and that it is
not unimportant for any officer to observe every incident in the life
and conduct of a soldier which may in any degree serve to illustrato
his disposition. The general characteristic of a corps should never bo
mistaken, by the commanding officer especially. Misunderstandings
often arise from it, and the consequences are usually what might be
expected — unfavorable to both officers and men.
The legion commanded by Armand was, on the 8th of September,
sent to forage and make cantonments in Warren county, whence Ar
mand went to Philadelphia, and never returned.
General Gates did not conceal his opinion that he held cavalry in no
estimation in the southern field. If he judged by the conduct of tho
legion, he ought to have confined his opinion to that corps particularly,
for subsequent experience has evinced that no opinion could have been
more erroneous.
Two brass field-pieces, which General Gates had left under a small
guard at Buffalo ford, for want of horses, the first day of his march
after taking the command, were brought to camp with a few iron
pieces picked up at Hillsborough, and formed a little park in the centre
of the ragged regiment of Maryland and Delaware troops, which con
stituted the southern army until the 16th of September, when Colonel
Buford arrived from Virginia with the mangled remains of his unfor
tunate regiment, reinforced by about two hundred raw recruits, all of
them in a ragged condition. Uniforms and other clothing were to be
sent after them, but never arrived.
About the same time a small detachment of Virginia militia arrived,
without even arms.

^8 APPENDIX.
On the 1 8th, the relics of Porterfield's corps, about fifty effective
men, anived under tho command of Captain Drew, and joined Buford.
Thus the remainder of those corps which had been recently cut to
pieces, without being recruited or refurnished with clothing, camp equi
page, &c, necessary for a campaign, were hastily assembled to form the
head of an army to act against their conquerors.
The body of the proposed army was to consist of militia — the second
class principally of those very mili'ia who had so shamefully abandoned
6ome of these same regulars at Camden but a few weeks before.
Confident hopes were, notwithstanding, entertained that the interior
of the two Carolinas might be defended from the ravages of the enemy
until Congress might gain time and find means to do something more
effectual. The officers and the men began to recover their usual spirits. Brig
adier-General Smallwood, weary of wailing events at obscure quarters,
and dissatisfied (as every officer of real merit naturally is) of rank
without command in time of war, suggested that, as there were two
nominal regiments and a company of artillery encamped, a nominal
brigade might he formed^ of which he claimed the command, and was
gratified. Captain Anthony Singleton, of Virginia, commanded the
artillery. About this time, Colonel Morgan, of Virginia, whose heroic conduct
under General Montgomery at Quebec, General Gates at Saratoga, and
in other meritorious actions, will secure him an honorable page in the
history of the war in the north, anived at camp, without command, and
with only two or three young gentlemen attending him.
The perfect security which Lord Cornwallis imagined resulted to
his posts and to tho communications between them, and the presump
tion that all the lower part of the country was in a state of absolute
subjection and tranquillity, in consequence of his extraordinary not to
say accidental success, induced him to send a small guard from Cam
den to convey one hundred and fifty of his prisoners, principally regu
lars, to Charleston.
Colonel Marion, of South Carolina, who has been mentioned in the
previous part of these narratives, and who ought always to bo men
tioned with respect, had been stimulating his countrymen to act in
concert with General Gates, until after the unfortunate 16th of August,
when he and his followers were obliged to secrete themselves in the
swamps and deserts which intersect a considerable part of the lower
country. From one of those hiding-places Marion suddenly fell upon
the British guard, surprised, and made the whole of them prisoners.
He paroled the officers, and took a list of the privates to be exchanged.
The American soldiers he sent oil', with proper guides, to Wilmington,
having first distributed among them the arms of their captors. A cir
cumstance so honorable for a small squad of militia, particularly for
their commanding officer, ought long to bo remembered with admira
tion. Marion and his men retook to the swamps.

SOUTHERN ARMY  EVENTS SUBSEQUENT TO 1780. 3S9
On the report in camp of this fortunate event, Lieutenant-Colonel
Commandant Ford, who had not availed himself of the permission for
¦supernumeraries to return home, went to Wilmington to meet the re
leased captives, and to conduit them to camp; but as they had been
subject to very little or no control after their rcloasemcnt, being with
out any of their own officers, and doubting of the existence of any con
siderable body of their fellow-soldiers, many of them repaired homo
with all tho expedition they could make. Colonel Ford did not re
cover more than about one half of the number released by Marion;
and these, from their sufferings in captivity, tlieir long and circuitous
march from Camden to Wilmington, and thence by Cross creek to
Hillsborough, and their want of almost all the necessaries of life, were
very little fit for service.
While the American troops were collecting at Hillsborough, meas
ures were taken by the state of North Carolina to expedite the embody
ing of the second class of their militia.
To intimidate the people from complying with the requisitions of
government to collect forage and provisions, and probably with an ex
pectation of striking terror through the country, Lord Cornwallis moved
from Camden (in October) with a considerable body of troops, lightly
equipped, which he led immediately to the town of Charlotte, and
thence manoeuvred about the country as far north ns Phifer's mills.
But, although his lordship could and would go where he pleased, he
found himself much less at ease in this part of the country than in any
other situation he had experienced. The mililia of Mccklenberg and
of Roan, the most inflexible whigs in the whole state, were continually
in his presence. He could make no movement without being ob
served ; no negligence could be committed on his part of which they
did not take advantage. Major Davie, with his mounted volunteers,
equipped as dragoons, sometimes intercepted his convoys of provis
ions, sometimes disturbed his pickets, and even once or twice in
sulted the van of his army on its march. These, however, were
feeble and ineffectual resistances. His lordship could "go where he
pleased." This incursion of his lordship into the strongest part of the state
stimulated the exertions of the legislature in measures to organize and
equip their militia for the field. They began to rendezvous in consid
erable numbers at Salisbury. Smallwood was complimented with a
request of the executive to take command of them, Caswell's confi
dence in the courage of his countrymen not being yet restored ; and it
was presumed that the militia would act with more subordination and
perhaps with more bravery under a continental general than under one
if their own neighbors. After making some conditions about horses
for himself and his suite, the .general accepted the honor.
At the same time it was contemplated to send forward as many of
the regular troops as could be tolerably equipped for service; and it
fartuuutely happened that at that time the state agents had forwarded

390 APPENDIX. (
to Hillsborough a small supply of coarse clothing and olher articles
convenient for the purpose.
General Gates ordered a committee to attend to the equitable distri
bution of these stores among the regular corps. But first, an appro
priation was to be made for equipping four companies of light infantry
to be drafted from the regiments, and destined to form a part of tho
corps to be sent in advance.
The execution of this part of the plan commenced on the 19th of
October, the day the clothing arrived, and was very soon completed
The four companies of infantry were formed into one battalion, the
command of which was obtained by Lieutenant-Colonel Howard.
About the 2d of November, Lieutenant-Colonels White and Wash
ington came to camp with a very few effectives of the first and third
regiments of dragoons, which had also been surprised, routed, defeated,
and cut to pieces, the preceding spring. White had leave to go to
Philadelphia, and Washington remained in command of tho remnants
of both corps, consisting of sixty or seventy effectives.
These corps joined the light infantry on their march toward Char
lotte. A small corps of riflemen (say sixty), under Major Rose, had
also joined tho light infantry at Hillsborough. The gallant Colonel
Morgan then took the command of all the light troops, and proceeded
with them toward Charlotte. He found the militia, under Smallwood,
advanced as far as the Old Trading ford on the Yadkin river, seven
miles from Salisbury, in safety. Lord Cornwallis, without any known
adequate cause, thought proper to retire through Charlotte, cross the
Wateree river, and encamp at Winnsborough. It is not probable that
he was deceived by any exaggerated account of the newly-levied mili
tia, nor is it probable that he had any fears from the relics of the corps
which he had so recently cut to pieces. His lordship had been fa
tigued by the insolence of the volunteers, and chose to retire to a camp
of repose.
Colonel Williams succeeded General Smallwood in the command of
the brigade of continental troops. The diminution of its numbers, by
the draft of four companies of light infantry, was in part restored by
the arrival of recruits from Maryland and Virginia. These were con
stantly at tho drill. A laboratory was erected, and employed ill mend
ing arms ; and the residue of the clothing, &c, was distributed. Each
man in the brigade was supplied with one new shirt, a short coat, u
pair of woollen overalls, a pair of shoes, and a hat or a cap. The
dividend of blankets was very inadequate to the occasion ; they were
apportioned to tho companies : and every other practicable provision
was made to prepare tho brigade for the field. The officers 'exerted
themselves, and the soldiers were emulous who should be tho first iu
readiness to march. Even the convalescents were impatient of being
left behind, so generally had the martial spirit revived in the soldiery.
The brigade marched on thd second day of November, immediately
after the light dragoons, with two brass field-pieces, some ammunition-

SOUTHERN ARMY  EVENTS SUBSEQUENT TO 1780. 391
wagons, and a small train of baggage. They followed the route ofthe
light infantry to Charlotte, where they encamped.
The militia under Smallwood had apparently taken a permanent
position at Providence, about fourteen miles south of Charlotte ; and
Morgan, now brigadier-general, was itinerant with his infantry about
the Wateree.
Lord Cornwallis continued with tho principal part of his forces at
Winnsborough, and kept up tho garrisons of Camden and Clermont.
Such were the relative situations of the two armies, when General
Giieene arrived at Charlotte, on tho 4th of December, 1780.
Charlotte. — "When General Gates had reviewed and contemplated
his situation at Charlotte, he considered it the most eligible place to en
camp for the winter with the principal part of his army. The light
troops were to keep the field, and to act as an advance-guard. With
this view, he ordered preparations to be made for building huts, and
directed General Morgan to make a foraging excursion toward Cam
den. On the very day of General Greene's arrival, and after he had
assumed the command ofthe army, Morgan reported that he had made
a tour into the country, in the vicinity of Camden, but found the cattle
were taken off, and so little grain or forage left, as to moke it scarcely
worth the fatigue of the troops; but that, fortunately, an event had
taken place which mnde some compensation for their toil.
Mr. Rugely, proprietor of the farm called Clermont, had obtained
the rank of lieutenant-colonel in the British army, and had obtained
that of major for his son-in-law. These two officers, with about one
hundred British troops and new levies, occupied a large log barn (the
old council-chamber), which they fortified by a slight entrenchment
and a line of ahaltis, so as to render it impregnable to small-arms.
This post was on the left of Morgan's route, asjie returned from for
aging, but too near to Camden for him to risk anything like a siege or
blockade. It was suggested that the cavalry might go and reconnoitre
it. Washington, pleased with the idea, approached so near as to as
certain that the enemy had discovered him and were intimidated. He
humorously ordered his men to plant the trunk of an old pirie-tree, in
the manner of a field-piece, pointing toward the garrison ; al the same
time, dismounting some of his men to appear as infantry, and display
ing his cavalry to the best advantage, he sent a corporal of dragoons
to summon the commanding officer to an immediate surrender. The
order was executed in so firm a manner, that Colonel Rugely did not
hesitate lo comply instantly; and (fee whole garrison marched out
prisonerg-of-war. The corporal was made a sergeant of dragoons ;.the old fort was set
on fire; and Washington retired with his prisoners without exchanging
a shot. Soldiers, like sailors, have always a little superstition about them
Although neither General Gates nor General Greene could be con
sidered as having any agency in this little successful affair, it was re-

392 APPENDIX.
gardcd by some, and even mentioned, as a presage of the future good
fortune which the army would derive from Ihe genius of the latter.
But I have superseded my old friend rather abruptly, and with almost
as little ceremony as it was directed by Congress. As I approach the
close of this narrative, I assume the epistolary style, in which I intend
to make all my future remarks, as they may thus be more easily tran
scribed for communication.
The letters which were addressed to Congress, respecting the over
throw of his whole army, were so vague and unsatisfactory, and others-
which were written were so disingenuous, that it was conceived by
Congress absolutely requisite to have a full inquiry into the circum
stances of the campaign and the conduct of the commanding officer.
General Washington was requested to nominate an officer lo super
sede General Gates; and it was resolved that a court of inquiry should
be held, of which Major-General the Baron Steuben was appointed
president. General- Greene, whom General Washington distinguished
by an election to the command of the southern army, arrived at head
quarters, as before observed, on the 4th of December, 1780, with full
powers. A manly resignation marked Ihe conduct of General Gates on tho
arrival of his successor, whom he received at headquarters with that
liberal and gentlemanly air which was habitual to him.
General Greene observed a plain, candid, respectful manner, neither
betraying compassion nor the want of it ; nothing like tho pride of offi
cial consequence even seemed, In short, the officers who were present
had an elegant lesson of propriety exhibited on a most delicate and
interesting occasion.
General Greene was announced to the army as commanding officer
by General Gates; and the same day General Greene addressed the
army, in which address he paid General Gates the compliment of con
firming all his standing orders
The detention of the baron Steuben in Virginia, and no major-gen
eral being present or authorized to serve in his stead, made it impracti
cable to hold the court of inquiry at this time or place. General Gates
therefore, with the approbation of General Greene, repaired to Phila
delphia, in order to meet the charges and to counteract the calumnies
against him.
I can not conclude this narrative without remarking that a soldier's
fame is always precarious during his life. If General Gates had fallen
at the commencement of the action of Camden, who would not hav«
acceded to the opinion that the disasters of the day were owing prin
cipally to that circumstance 1 The laurels of Saratoga would have
been ever green on his tomb, and history would have exulted in the
merits of the hero !
What difference, in point of real merit, would there have been (or
tould there be) between falling by an early, accidental shot, or submit
ting to the irresistible impulse of the militia, who went like a torrent

SOUTHERN ARMY  EVENTS SUBSEQUENT TO 1780. 393
from the field, forcing almost everything before them ? And yet, what
a difference in the public opinion 1 Instead of praises, panegyric, and
monumental honors, he was censured, calumniated, and even con
demned, unheard.
The severity of this treatment was aggravated by a recent event,
which was carefully kept from his knowledge while in camp, but
which too soon overwhelmed him in distress. His only son, an ele
gant young man, well educated, and just entering into active scenes
of life, was suddenly cut off by the stroke of death.
None but an unfortunate soldier, and a father left childless, could
assimilate his feelings to those of this unhappy gentleman ; yet many
sympathized with him, remembered his former public services, wished
for the return of tranquillity to his afflicted mind, and hoped even for a
restoration of his honors.
General Greene took great pains to collect the best information rela
tive to the circumstances of the late campaign ; and his communica
tions to influential characters finally determined Congress to rescind
their resolution respecting General Gales, and to restore *>:— *-
command in the northern army.

THE ENO.

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