The Life of General Francis Marion

by M. L. Weems

IMPORTANT NOTE ON THIS TEXT:

This biography, though historically based, should not be considered factual. It is not that there was no such man — indeed there was, and other accounts indicate that Francis Marion is as deserving of praise as this account would indicate — or moreso. It is not that the events described did not take place — most of them, at least, did.

It is simply that Parson Weems (Mason Locke Weems, 1759-1825), in an honest effort to teach a high patriotism, nobility, and morality, sometimes embellished or exaggerated his stories to the point of falsehood, as with his invention of the cherry tree anecdote in his Life of Washington. It seems strange that such a devotion to moral teaching should use falsehoods to reach its audience, but he apparently felt the means justified by the end.

Not everyone agreed with his methods, and Gen. Peter Horry wrote to him: "I requested you would (if necessary) so far alter the work as to make it read grammatically, and I gave you leave to embellish the work, but entertained not the least idea of what has happened . . . You have carved and mutilated it with so many erroneous statements your embellishments, observation and remarks, must necessarily be erroneous as proceeding from false grounds. . . . Can you suppose I can be pleased with reading particulars (though so elevated, by you) of Marion and myself, when I know such never existed." Though Horry did not want to be known as the co-author of this work, I have suffered to let his name remain, with this notice, as it has traditionally been connected with it.

For all this, the basic ideas, gleaned largely from facts provided by Peter Horry and Robert Marion (the nephew of Francis), remain largely unchanged. Even in this decadent state, Weems' biography brought the nation's attention to Francis Marion, and inspired numerous other writers to touch on the subject — two of these works, biographies by James and Simms, are especially noteworthy. Therefore, for the literary, rather than strictly historical, value, the following is presented to the reader.

Alan Light, Birmingham, Alabama, 1997.

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Weems' Life of General Francis Marion
[Mason Locke Weems, American (Maryland) author & Anglican priest. 1759-1825.]
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The Life of General Francis Marion, a Celebrated Partisan Officer, in the Revolutionary War, against the British and Tories in South Carolina and Georgia

by Brig. Gen. P. Horry, of Marion's Brigade, and M. L. Weems, formerly rector of Mount Vernon Parish.

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"On VERNON'S CHIEF why lavish all our lays;
Come, honest Muse, and sing great MARION'S praise."
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Preface.

"O that mine enemy would write a book." — This, in former times, passed for as sore an evil as a good man could think of wishing to his worst enemy. — Whether any of my enemies ever wished me so great an evil, I know not. But certain it is, I never dreamed of such a thing as writing a book; and least of all a `war book'. What, I! a man here under the frozen zone and grand climacteric of my days, with one foot in the grave and the other hard by, to quit my prayer book and crutches, (an old man's best companion,) and drawing my sword, flourish and fight over again the battles of my youth.

The Lord forbid me such madness! But what can one do when one's friends are eternally teasing him, as they are me, and calling out at every whipstitch and corner of the streets, "Well, but, sir, where's Marion? where's the history of Marion, that we have so long been looking for?"

'Twas in vain that I told them I was no scholar; no historian. "God," said I, "gentlemen, has made `many men of many minds;' one for this thing and another for that. But I am morally certain he never made me for a writer. I did indeed once understand something about the use of a broadsword; but as to a pen, gentlemen, that's quite another part of speech. The difference between a broadsword and a pen, gentlemen, is prodigious; and it is not every officer, let me tell you, gentlemen, who can, like Caesar, fight you a great battle with his sword to-day, and fight it over again with his pen to-morrow."

"Burn Caesar!" replied they, "and his book too. If it were written in letters of gold, we would not read it. What have honest republicans like us to do with such an ambitious cut-throat and robber? Besides sir, your reasoning about scholarship, and fine style, and all that, does not, begging your pardon, apply at all to the case in hand. Small subjects indeed, require great writers to set them off; but great subjects require no such artificial helps: like true beauties, they shine most in the simplest dress. Marion is one of this sort: great in his simplicity. Then give us Marion — plain, brave, honest Marion; that's all we want, sir. And you can do this better than any other man. You have known him longest; have fought closest by his side: and can best tell us of his noble deeds. And surely now, after all, you can't bear to let him die, and all his great actions, and be forgotten forever."

This, I confess, went to the quick, and roused me completely. "What! Marion forgotten?" I exclaimed, "Marion forgotten! and by me!" No, never! never! while memory looks back on the dreadful days of the revolution; when a British despot, not the NATION, (for I esteem them most generous,) but a proud, stupid, obstinate, DESPOT, trampling the HOLY CHARTER and constitution of England's realm, issued against us, (sons of Britons,) that most unrighteous edict, TAXATION without REPRESENTATION! and then, because in the spirit of our gallant fathers, we bravely opposed him, he broke up the very fountains of his malice, and let loose upon us every indescribable, unimaginable curse of CIVIL WAR; when British armies, with their Hessian, and Indian, and tory allies, overran my afflicted country, swallowing up its fruits and filling every part with consternation; when no thing was to be seen but flying crowds, burning houses, and young men, (alas! too often,) hanging upon the trees like dogs, and old men wringing their withered hands over their murdered boys, and women and children weeping and flying from their ruined plantations into the starving woods! When I think, I say, of these things, oh my God! how can I ever forget Marion, that vigilant, undaunted soldier, whom thy own mercy raised up to scourge such monsters, and avenge his country's wrongs.

The Washington of the south, he steadily pursued the warfare most safe for us, and most fatal to our enemies. He taught us to sleep in the swamps, to feed on roots, to drink the turbid waters of the ditch, to prowl nightly round the encampments of the foe, like lions round the habitations of the shepherds who had slaughtered their cubs. Sometimes he taught us to fall upon the enemy by surprise, distracting the midnight hour with the horrors of our battle: at other times, when our forces were increased, he led us on boldly to the charge, hewing the enemy to pieces, under the approving light of day. Oh, Marion, my friend! my friend! never can I forget thee. Although thy wars are all ended, and thyself at rest in the grave, yet I see thee still. I see thee as thou wert wont to ride, most terrible in battle to the enemies of thy country. Thine eyes like balls of fire, flamed beneath thy lowering brows. But lovely still wert thou in mercy, thou bravest among the sons of men! For, soon as the enemy sinking under our swords, cried for quarter, thy heart swelled with commiseration, and thy countenance was changed, even as the countenance of a man who beheld the slaughter of his brothers. The basest tory who could but touch the hem of thy garment was safe. The avengers of blood stopped short in thy presence, and turned away abashed from the lightning of thine eyes.

O that my pen were of the quill of the swan that sings for future days! then shouldst thou, my friend, receive the fulness of thy fame. The fathers, of the years to come, should talk of thy noble deeds; and the youth yet unborn should rise up and call thee blessed. Fired at the charm of thy virtues, they should follow thee in the path of thy glory, and make themselves the future Marions of their country.

Peter Horry.

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The Life of General Francis Marion
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