and they augured favorably of the success of any desire which he might express to make her the sharer in his future fortunes. On this hint he spake. Miss Mary Videau, like himself, came of the good old Huguenot stock, the virtues of which formed our theme in the opening chapter of this narrative. He proposed to her and was accepted. Neither of them was young. It was not in the heyday of pa.s.sion that they loved. The tie that bound them sprang from an affection growing out of a just appreciation of their mutual merits. She is reported to have somewhat resembled him as well in countenance as character. She certainly shared warmly in his interests and feelings. She readily conformed to his habits no less than his wishes--partook of his amus.e.m.e.nts, shared his journeys--which were frequent--and still, in his absence, could listen with as keen a zest to his praises, as before their marriage. During the summer months, it was his almost yearly custom to retire to the mountains of the interior. She was always his companion. On such occasions, he was guilty of a piece of military ostentation of which n.o.body could have accused him while a military man. He had preserved carefully, as memorials of an eventful history, his marquee, camp bed, and cooking utensils, just as he had done while in the Brigade, during the last twelve months of his military life. These were carefully taken with him; and, with his faithful servant Oscar, and his two sumpter mules, were still the companions of his wanderings. They were coupled no doubt with many a.s.sociations as interesting to his heart as they were trying to his experience. They were, perhaps, doubly precious, as they const.i.tuted the sum total of all that he had gathered--besides an honorable fame--from his various campaignings.
The marriage of Marion, like that of Washington, was without fruits.
This may have baffled some hopes, and in some degree qualified his happiness, but did not impair his virtues. He adopted the son of a relative, to whom he gave his own name, in the hope of perpetuating it in the family, but even this desire has been defeated, since the heir thus chosen, though blessed with numerous children, was never so fortunate as to own a son.
In the decline of life, in the modest condition of the farmer, Marion seems to have lived among his neighbors, very much as the ancient patriarch, surrounded by his flock. He was honored and beloved by all.
His dwelling was the abode of content and cheerful hospitality. Its doors were always open; and the chronicler records that it had many chambers. Here the stranger found a ready welcome, and his neighbors a friendly counsellor, to the last. His active habits were scarcely lessened in the latter years of life. His agricultural interests were managed judiciously, and his property underwent annual increase. Nor did his domestic interests and declining years prevent him from serving the public still. He still held a commission in the militia, and continued to represent the parish of St. John"s, in the Senate of the State. In May, 1790, we find him sitting as a member of the Convention for forming the State Const.i.tution; but from this period he withdrew from public life, and, in 1794, after the reorganization of the State militia, he resigned his commission in that service to which he had done so much honor. On this occasion he was addressed by an a.s.sembly of the citizens of Georgetown, through a special committee of four, in the following language.*
* The committee consisted of Messrs. William D. James, Robert Brownfield, Thomas Mitch.e.l.l, and Joseph Blythe.--
"CITIZEN GENERAL--At the present juncture, when the necessity of public affairs requires the military of this State to be organized anew, to repel the attacks of an enemy from whatever quarter they may be forced upon us; we, the citizens of the district of Georgetown, finding you no longer at our head, have agreed to convey to you our grateful sentiments for your former numerous services. In the decline of life, when the merits of the veteran are too often forgotten, we wish to remind you that yours are still fresh in the remembrance of your fellow citizens.
Could it be possible for men who have served and fought under you, to be now forgetful of that General, by whose prudent conduct their lives have been saved and their families preserved from being plundered by a rapacious enemy? We mean not to flatter you. At this time it is impossible to suspect it. Our present language is the language of freemen, expressing only sentiments of grat.i.tude. Your achievements may not have sufficiently swelled the historic page. They were performed by those who could better wield the sword than the pen--by men whose constant dangers precluded them from the leisure, and whose necessities deprived them of the common implements of writing. But this is of little moment. They remain recorded in such indelible characters upon our minds, that neither change of circ.u.mstances, nor length of time, can efface them. Taught by us, our children shall hereafter point out the places, and say, "HERE, General Marion, posted to advantage, made a glorious stand in defence of the liberties of his country--THERE, on disadvantageous ground, retreated to save the lives of his fellow citizens." What could be more glorious for the General, commanding freemen, than thus to fight, and thus to save the lives of his fellow soldiers? Continue, General, in peace, to till those acres which you once wrested from the hands of an enemy. Continue to enjoy dignity accompanied with ease, and to lengthen out your days blessed with the consciousness of conduct unaccused of rapine or oppression, and of actions ever directed by the purest patriotism."
The artless language of this address was grateful to the venerable patriot. In its truth and simplicity lay its force and eloquence. It had truly embodied in a single sentence the n.o.ble points of his career and character. He lived in the delightful consciousness of a pure mind, free from accusation--and no higher eulogy could be conferred upon the captain of citizen soldiers, than to say, he never wantonly exposed their lives, but was always solicitous of their safety. To this address his answer was verbal. He no longer used the pen. The feebleness of nature was making itself understood. That he felt himself failing may be inferred from his withdrawal from all public affairs. But his mind was cheerful and active to the last. He still saw his friends and neighbors, and welcomed their coming--could still mount his horse and cast his "eye over his acres." The progress of decline, in his case, was not of that humiliating kind, by which the faculties of the intellect are clouded, and the muscles of the body made feeble and incompetent. He spoke thoughtfully of the great concerns of life, of death, and of the future; declared himself a Christian, a humble believer in all the vital truths of religion. As of the future he entertained no doubt, so of the awful transition through the valley and shadow of death, he had no fear.
"Death may be to others," said he, "a leap in the dark, but I rather consider it a resting-place where old age may throw off its burdens." He died, peaceful and a.s.sured, with no apparent pain, and without regret, at his residence in St. John"s parish, on the 27th day of February, 1795, having reached the mature and mellow term of sixty-three years.
His last words declared his superiority to all fears of death; "for, thank G.o.d," said he, "I can lay my hand on my heart and say that, since I came to man"s estate, I have never intentionally done wrong to any."
Thus died Francis Marion, one of the n.o.blest models of the citizen soldier that the world has ever produced. Brave without rashness, prudent without timidity, firm without arrogance, resolved without rudeness, good without cant, and virtuous without presumption. His mortal remains are preserved at Belle-Isle, in St. John"s parish. The marble slab which covers them bears the following inscription:--"Sacred to the memory of Brigadier-General Francis Marion, who departed this life on the 29th of Feb., 1795, in the sixty-third year of his age, deeply regretted by all his fellow citizens. History will record his worth, and rising generations embalm his memory, as one of the most distinguished patriots and heroes of the American Revolution; which elevated his native country to honor and Independence, and secured to her the blessings of liberty and peace. This tribute of veneration and grat.i.tude is erected in commemoration of the n.o.ble and disinterested virtues of the citizen, and the gallant exploits of the soldier, who lived without fear, and died without reproach."
This inscription was the tribute of an individual, not of the country.
The State of South Carolina has conferred his name upon one of its district divisions. But a proper grat.i.tude, not to speak of policy, would seem to require more
"If it be we love His fame and virtues, it were well, methinks, To link them with his name i" the public eye, That men, who in the paths of gainful trade, Do still forget the venerable and good, May have such n.o.ble monitor still nigh, And, musing at his monument, recall, Those precious memories of the deeds of one Whose life were the best model for their sons."
[End of original text.]
Appendix A. Notes on the electronic text.
The great majority of changes in this electronic edition, from the original, are in spelling (some words are spelled both ways in the original). To wit:
partizan :: partisan.
merchandize :: merchandise.
duresse :: duress.
ancle :: ankle.
swamp-fox :: swamp fox. (The modern spelling.) co-operate :: cooperate.
bivouack :: bivouac.
head-quarters :: headquarters.
secresy :: secrecy.
patrole :: patrol.
A number of spellings which might be considered errors, and might not, have been retained, where they are less likely to interfere with reading.
When the true facts were known, either from context or outside reading, a few other errors were corrected. A couple are footnoted in the text.
Otherwise, the larger changes are:
Chapter 5 (p. 59 of the original): "Weems, in his life of our author"
has been changed to "Weems, in his life of our subject".
Chapter 6 (p. 80): "while the second North Carolina regiment"
has been changed to "while the second South Carolina regiment".
Chapter 14, last paragraph (p. 239): "Mrs. Moultrie"
has been changed to "Mrs. Motte".
These errors are not merely represented here for their scholastic interest, but also to give the reader an appreciation of the types of errors which Simms was frequently subject to make. Many have most certainly not been caught--if I had not lived in the Waxhaw area, I certainly would not have known of the error (footnoted in the text) which replaced "Waxhaw" with "Warsaw"--two very different regions. Names are particularly p.r.o.ne to error, not only by Simms, but from the whole revolutionary era in the South--many of the people were only semi-literate, if literate at all, and many of the names have been spelled several, even a dozen ways--sometimes even by the individual named. For all this, the errors of Simms are generally minor, and will not prevent the reader from a true appreciation of both Marion and Simms.
Alan R. Light, Birmingham, Alabama. December, 1996.
Appendix B. Song of Marion"s Men.
By William Cullen Bryant [1794-1878].
As this poem is quoted in part by Simms at the very beginning of the book, I have considered it appropriate to include the whole here:
Our band is few, but true and tried, Our leader frank and bold; The British soldier trembles When Marion"s name is told.
Our fortress is the good greenwood, Our tent the cypress-tree; We know the forest round us, As seamen know the sea.
We know its walls of th.o.r.n.y vines, Its glades of reedy gra.s.s, Its safe and silent islands Within the dark mora.s.s.
Woe to the English soldiery, That little dread us near!
On them shall light at midnight A strange and sudden fear: When, waking to their tents on fire, They grasp their arms in vain, And they who stand to face us Are beat to earth again.
And they who fly in terror deem A mighty host behind, And hear the tramp of thousands Upon the hollow wind.
Then sweet the hour that brings release From danger and from toil: We talk the battle over, And share the battle"s spoil.
The woodland rings with laugh and shout, As if a hunt were up, And woodland flowers are gathered To crown the soldier"s cup.
With merry songs we mock the wind That in the pine-top grieves, And slumber long and sweetly On beds of oaken leaves.
Well knows the fair and friendly moon The band that Marion leads-- The glitter of their rifles, The scampering of their steeds.
"Tis life to guide the fiery barb Across the moonlight plain; "Tis life to feel the night-wind That lifts his tossing mane.
A moment in the British camp-- A moment--and away Back to the pathless forest, Before the peep of day.
Grave men there are by broad Santee, Grave men with h.o.a.ry hairs, Their hearts are all with Marion, For Marion are their prayers.
And lovely ladies greet our band With kindliest welcoming, With smiles like those of summer, And tears like those of spring.
For them we wear these trusty arms, And lay them down no more Till we have driven the Briton, Forever, from our sh.o.r.e.