The Memories of Fifty Years | Page 5

Such qualities, always appreciated by a rude people,
at that particular juncture brought their possessor prominently forward,
and he was chosen captain of a company composed almost to a man of
his personal friends and acquaintances. Uniting himself with the
regiment of Colonel Lynch, just then organized, and which was ordered
to join the North Carolina line, they marched at once to join General
Gates, then commanding in the South. Under the command of this
unfortunate general he remained until after the battle of Camden. Here
Gates experienced a most disastrous defeat, and the whole country was

surrendered to the British forces.
South Carolina and North Carolina, especially their southern portions,
were entirely overrun by the enemy, who armed the Tories and turned
them loose to ravage the country. Gates's army was disorganized, and
most of those who composed it from the Carolinas returned to their
homes. Between these and the Scotch Tories, as the Loyalists were
termed, there was a continual partisan strife, each party resorting to the
most cruel murders, burning and destroying the homes and the property
of each other. Partisan bands were organized by each, and under
desperate leaders did desperate deeds. It was then and there that Marion
and Fanning became conspicuous, and were respectively the terror of
Whigs and Tories.
There were numerous others of like character, though less efficient and
less conspicuous. The exploits of such bands are deemed beneath the
dignity of history, and now only live in the memories of those who
received them traditionally from the actors, their associates or
descendants. Those acts constitute mainly the tragic horrors of war, and
evidence the merciless inhumanity of enraged men, unrestrained by
civil or moral law. Injuries he deems wanton prompt the passions of his
nature to revenge, and he hastens to retaliate upon his enemy, with
increased horrors, their savage brutalities.
As the leader of a small band of neighbors who had united for
protection and revenge, Colonel Love became conspicuous for his
courage and cruelty. It was impossible for these, his associates, as for
their Tory neighbors and enemies, to remain at their homes, or even to
visit them, except at night, and then most stealthily. The country
abounds with swamps more or less dense and irreclaimable, which
must always remain a hiding-place for the unfortunate or desperate. In
these the little bands by day were concealed, issuing forth at night to
seek for food or spoils. Their families were often made the victims of
revenge; and instances were numerous where feeble women and little
children were slain in cold blood by neighbors long and familiarly
known to each other, in retaliation of like atrocities perpetrated by their
husbands, sons, or brothers.
It was a favorite pastime with my grandmother, when the morning's
work was done, to uncover her flax-wheel, seat herself, and call me to
sit by her, and, after my childish manner, read to her from the "Life of

General Francis Marion," by Mason L. Weems, the graphic account of
the general's exploits, by the venerable parson. There was not a story in
the book that she did not know, almost as a party concerned, and she
would ply her work of flax-spinning while she gave me close and
intense attention. At times, when the historian was at fault in his
facts--and, to say the truth, that was more frequently the case than
comports with veracious history--she would cease the impelling motion
of her foot upon the pedal of her little wheel, drop her thread, and,
gently arresting the fly of her spool, she would lift her iron-framed
spectacles, and with great gravity say: "Read that again. Ah! it is not as
it happened, your grandfather was in that fight, and I will tell you how
it was." This was so frequently the case, that now, when more than
sixty years have flown, I am at a loss to know, if the knowledge of
most of these facts which tenaciously clings to my memory, was
originally derived from Weems's book, or my grandmother's narrations.
In these forays and conflicts, whenever my grandfather was a party, her
information was derived from him and his associates, and of course
was deemed by her authentic; and whenever these differed from the
historian's narrative, his, of consequence, was untrue. Finally, Weems,
upon one of his book-selling excursions, which simply meant disposing
of his own writings, came through her neighborhood, and with the
gravity of age, left verbally his own biography with Mrs. McJoy, a
neighbor; this made him, as he phrased it, General Washington's
preacher. He was never after assailed as a lying author: but whenever
his narrative was opposed to her memory, she had the excuse for him,
that his informant had deceived him.
To have seen General Washington, even without having held