The Life of General Francis Marion [98]
his biography of Marion, that the fire was put out "before much mischief was done". -- A. L., 1997. --
The day after the destruction of her house, she invited general Marion with all the officers, British as well as American, to dine with her. Having now no better place of accommodation, she entertained us under a large arbor built in front of her log cabin, where, with great pleasure, I observed that the same lady could one day act the Spartan, and the next the Parisian: thus uniting in herself, the rare qualities of the heroine and the christian. For my life I could not keep my eyes from her. To think what an irreparable injury these officers had done her! and yet to see her, regardless of her own appetite, selecting the choicest pieces of the dish, and helping them with the endearing air of a sister, appeared to me one of the loveliest spectacles I had ever beheld. It produced the happiest effect on us all. Catching her amiable spirit, we seemed to have entirely forgotten our past animosities; and Britons and Americans mingled together, in smiles and cheerful chat, like brothers. I do not recollect a transaction in the whole war, in which I can think that God looked down with higher complacency than on this. And to the day of my death, I shall believe, that God enabled us to beat the British in arms, because we had so far beaten them in generosity. Men, who under such cruel provocations, could display such moderation as we did, must certainly have given our Maker good hope, that we were equal to the glorious business of self-government; or in other words, of living under a republic, which must certainly be his delight, because both implying and producing more wisdom and virtue, than any other government among men.
The name of the British commandant, our prisoner, was Ferguson; and a very pleasant gentleman he was too, as I found on getting acquainted with him, which I soon did. After talking over our various adventures in the war, he asked me if I did not command the cavalry, in the late skirmishing between Watson and Marion. I told him I did. "Well," replied he, "you made a very lucky escape that day: for do you know that we were twelve hundred strong, owing to colonel Small's joining us in the march?"
"Then truly," said I, "if that were the case, I made a lucky escape, sure enough."
"And where were you," he asked again, "when general Marion so completely surprised our guard at Nelson's old fields: were you there?"
I told him I was not, but that my brother, Hugh Horry, was.
"Well," continued he, laughing heartily, "that was MY lucky day. I had a command there that morning of about thirty men, as an advance. We had not left the guard more than five minutes before the Americans charged and swept all. The moment we heard the firing and the cries of our people, we squatted in the high grass like so many rabbits, then running on the stoop, till we gained the woods, we cleared ourselves." I laughed, and asked how many men he supposed Marion had that morning."
He replied, he really did not know, but supposed he must have had three or four hundred.
"Well, sir," said I, "he had exactly thirty."
The reader may perhaps conceive Ferguson's astonishment: I cannot describe it.
Soon as the dishes were removed, we were presented with a spectacle to which our eyes had long been strangers, a brave parade of excellent wine: several hampers of which had been received at the fort the very day before we commenced the attack. To poor soldiers like us, who, for years, had hardly quenched our thirst on any thing better than water or apple brandy grog, this was a sight immensely refreshing. Whether it was owing to the virtues of this noble cordial, with the recollection of our late glorious victories; or whether it was the happy result of our generosity to the enemy, and of their correspondent politeness to us, I do not know; but certain it is, we were all very gay. But in the midst of our enjoyments, which none seemed to relish with a higher glee than general Marion, a British soldier came up and
The day after the destruction of her house, she invited general Marion with all the officers, British as well as American, to dine with her. Having now no better place of accommodation, she entertained us under a large arbor built in front of her log cabin, where, with great pleasure, I observed that the same lady could one day act the Spartan, and the next the Parisian: thus uniting in herself, the rare qualities of the heroine and the christian. For my life I could not keep my eyes from her. To think what an irreparable injury these officers had done her! and yet to see her, regardless of her own appetite, selecting the choicest pieces of the dish, and helping them with the endearing air of a sister, appeared to me one of the loveliest spectacles I had ever beheld. It produced the happiest effect on us all. Catching her amiable spirit, we seemed to have entirely forgotten our past animosities; and Britons and Americans mingled together, in smiles and cheerful chat, like brothers. I do not recollect a transaction in the whole war, in which I can think that God looked down with higher complacency than on this. And to the day of my death, I shall believe, that God enabled us to beat the British in arms, because we had so far beaten them in generosity. Men, who under such cruel provocations, could display such moderation as we did, must certainly have given our Maker good hope, that we were equal to the glorious business of self-government; or in other words, of living under a republic, which must certainly be his delight, because both implying and producing more wisdom and virtue, than any other government among men.
The name of the British commandant, our prisoner, was Ferguson; and a very pleasant gentleman he was too, as I found on getting acquainted with him, which I soon did. After talking over our various adventures in the war, he asked me if I did not command the cavalry, in the late skirmishing between Watson and Marion. I told him I did. "Well," replied he, "you made a very lucky escape that day: for do you know that we were twelve hundred strong, owing to colonel Small's joining us in the march?"
"Then truly," said I, "if that were the case, I made a lucky escape, sure enough."
"And where were you," he asked again, "when general Marion so completely surprised our guard at Nelson's old fields: were you there?"
I told him I was not, but that my brother, Hugh Horry, was.
"Well," continued he, laughing heartily, "that was MY lucky day. I had a command there that morning of about thirty men, as an advance. We had not left the guard more than five minutes before the Americans charged and swept all. The moment we heard the firing and the cries of our people, we squatted in the high grass like so many rabbits, then running on the stoop, till we gained the woods, we cleared ourselves." I laughed, and asked how many men he supposed Marion had that morning."
He replied, he really did not know, but supposed he must have had three or four hundred.
"Well, sir," said I, "he had exactly thirty."
The reader may perhaps conceive Ferguson's astonishment: I cannot describe it.
Soon as the dishes were removed, we were presented with a spectacle to which our eyes had long been strangers, a brave parade of excellent wine: several hampers of which had been received at the fort the very day before we commenced the attack. To poor soldiers like us, who, for years, had hardly quenched our thirst on any thing better than water or apple brandy grog, this was a sight immensely refreshing. Whether it was owing to the virtues of this noble cordial, with the recollection of our late glorious victories; or whether it was the happy result of our generosity to the enemy, and of their correspondent politeness to us, I do not know; but certain it is, we were all very gay. But in the midst of our enjoyments, which none seemed to relish with a higher glee than general Marion, a British soldier came up and