Through his superior system of scouts and their knowledge of woodcraft, Morgan was always thoroughly informed of the movements of his enemies. The orders of General Greene required him to hold his ground as long as he possibly could and not to dispirit the inhabitants by a retreat unless it were a necessity to save his troops from destruction or capture. But the time had now come for him to retire in haste before the British or to give battle to Tarleton before Cornwallis could join him. With a noble confidence in his troops, Morgan determined to fight. He made his camp on the night of January 16, 1781, two miles from a grazing-ground for cattle known as the Cowpens, sixteen miles from Spartansburg, South Carolina, and five miles from the North Carolina line. The news that he had determined to give battle to Tarleton was received by his men with exclamations of joy. He knew the enemy’s strength was superior to his own—that the British infantry embraced twice his number and the cavalry three times the little force under his command. He knew the advantage of the British because of their artillery. But he was unafraid. Against the superiority of numbers, he placed the skill of his riflemen and their zeal to punish an enemy who had wantonly inflicted upon them and their kinsmen and kinswomen personal wrongs of the most grievous character. But above all, he placed their love of country and a willingness to die in its defense.
“The night before the battle,” says Major Thomas Young in Orion, Vol. III., page 88, “he went among the volunteers, helped them to fix their swords, joked them about their sweethearts, and told them to keep in good spirits, and the day would be ours. Long after I laid down, he was going about among the soldiers encouraging them, and telling them that the ‘Old wagoner would crack his whip over Ben (Tarleton) in the morning, as sure as he lived.’ ‘Just hold up your head, boys,’ he would say, ‘three fires and you are free! And when you return to your homes, how the old folks will bless you and the girls will kiss you for your gallant conduct.’ I don’t think he slept a wink that night.”
It is as far beyond my purpose, Mr. President, as it is beyond my ability, to describe the action which began at sunrise on the 17th day of January, 1781, and ended at “two hours before noon.” In the judgment of Bancroft, Morgan was at this time the “ablest commander of light troops in the world,” and I content myself with saying that on that bloody but happy day his disposition of his troops, his personal bravery, and the result which attended it, all, all confirm the pronouncement of the great historian. The battle was fought in an open wood, “affording to the movements of an army all the facilities of a plain.” Tarleton himself declared it to be “as proper and convenient a place for an action as he could desire.” It resulted in an American loss of twelve killed and sixty wounded. Of the enemy, “ten commissioned officers were killed and more than a hundred rank and file; two hundred were wounded; twenty-nine commissioned officers and more than five hundred privates were taken prisoners besides seventy negroes.” Two standards, upward of a hundred dragoon horses, thirty-five wagons, eight hundred muskets and two field pieces were also captured. The British army was practically destroyed—the fragment which survived, with the flying Tarleton at their head, being driven pell-mell in ignominious flight to the main body at Turkey Creek. Thus again, by a single blow, was another third of Cornwallis’ proud army annihilated.
The fame of this surprising victory spread throughout the country. Greene announced it to the army in general orders, saying the victors were “the finest fellows on earth, more worthy than ever of love.” The governors of the Southern States made proclamation of the event. The Commonwealth of Virginia, in the plenitude of her gratitude, voted Morgan a house and sword as a testimonial of “the highest esteem of his country for his military character, so gloriously displayed.” From Charlotte, under date of January 21, 1781, the gallant General Davidson, who was so soon to yield his life in resisting Cornwallis’ passage of the Catawba, sent Morgan a note by “Parson McCaully” extending his “warmest congratulations on the late glorious victory,” and saying “you have, in my opinion, paved the way for the salvation of the country.”
Greene wrote him from Camden August 20, 1781: “The people of this country adore you.” “Great generals are scarce—there are few Morgans to be found.” From Montok Hill, August 15, 1781, while Morgan was recuperating his health, Lafayette wrote: “My dear Friend: I have been happy to hear your health was better. I hope the springs will entirely recover it; and then, my dear sir, I shall be happier than can be expressed, at seeing you with the army. You are the general and the friend I want.” In the Congress, a resolution was adopted placing on record on behalf of the people of the United States “the most lively sense of approbation of the conduct of Morgan and the men and officers under his command.” It ordered that a medal of gold be struck and presented to him in commemoration of the gratitude of his countrymen. It attempted to sum up his merit in three words: “Virtus unita valet.”
Modest, indeed, was the report of Morgan himself of the battle. “Our success,” said he to Greene, “must be attributed to the justice of our cause and the gallantry of our troops. My wishes would induce me to name every sentinel in the corps.” He did name some of his officers in that original report of the battle dated “Camp near Cain Creek, Jan. 19, 1781,” and it will arouse the pride of every man of Irish blood to read them. Listen to this much of it: “Major McDowell, of the North Carolina volunteers, was posted on the right flank in front of the line, one hundred and fifty yards; and Major Cunningham, of the Georgia volunteers, on the left, at the same distance in front. Colonels Brannon and Thomas, of the South Carolinians, were posted in the right of Major McDowell and Colonel Hayes and McCall, of the same corps, on the left of Major Cunningham. Captains Tate and Buchanan, with the Augusta riflemen, to support the right of the line.” In the Maryland Regiment, were Major Edward Giles, Morgan’s aid; Captain Gilmore, and Ensign McCoskell. McDowell and Cunningham and Tate and Giles and Gilmore and Hayes and McCoskell and McCall and Brannon, commissioned officers all, in one battle! From this array, it would seem that the Irish may modestly lay claim to have struck at least one blow for Independence!
The military career of Morgan was now nearly ended. Immediately upon the termination of the engagement, he began that masterly retreat for a distance of one hundred and fifty miles before the troops of Cornwallis and Leslie, to form a junction with Greene, which was so necessary to save his little corps from annihilation or capture. To overtake him, Cornwallis destroyed his entire baggage train, and converted his army into light troops. But in vain. Though heavily encumbered by the captured munitions of the enemy and his celerity retarded by the prisoners of war, Morgan conducted his retirement with great prudence and success, and in twenty-one days joined Greene at Guilford Court House, his pursuers being but twenty-five miles in his rear. His heroic band was saved.
Emaciated from want and crippled with disease resulting from hardships he endured in the Canadian campaign, Morgan was now scarcely able to sit upon his horse. When mounted he could not ride out of a walk. He “was a sufferer to the verge of human endurance, and was forced to ask for leave of absence to regain his broken health. Slowly and painfully he made his way homeward; and he was never again physically fit for active operations. But his warlike spirit was never at rest while an armed enemy of his country was in the field. In June, 1781, when Tarleton was raiding eastern Virginia, he raised and equipped a body of cavalry at his own expense and at the earnest importunity of Benjamin Harrison and Archibald Cary, Speakers of the House of Delegates and Senate of Virginia, he placed himself at their head to join Lafayette. But in August his old malady compelled him again to retire.
The spirit of the old hero chafed under his enforced idleness. The termination of the titanic struggle was now discernible to his experienced eye and he longed to participate in the closing events. The French fleet was in the Chesapeake, cutting off the escape of Cornwallis by sea. In his rear was Lafayette—there was no retreat to the southward. On his flank was the Marquis of St. Simon—there was no flight to the mountains. And from the north, at the head of the main army, marched George Washington with his veteran troops.
The stupendous event which took place at Yorktown on the 19th day of October, 1781, at 4 o’clock p. m., and its influence on the history of the human race, all the world knows. Morgan was at home at that time on a bed of sickness. He wrote Washington under date of September 20, lamenting that his condition prevented him from serving in the field. It was a letter full of personal and patriotic utterances—so much so that Washington felt impelled to answer it in kind. His answer is dated “Headquarters, before York, 5th October, 1781.” “Surrounded as I am,” he wrote, “with a great variety of concerns on the present occasion, I can yet find time to answer your letter of the 20th ultimo, which I have received with much satisfaction; not only as it is filled with such warm expressions of desire for my success on the present expedition, but as it breathes the spirit and ardor of a veteran soldier, who, though impaired in the service of his country, yet retains the sentiments of a soldier in the firmest degree.