Robert Smith: a faithful Carolina patriot
- Jun 5
- 5 min read
By Tommy Dew
PHOTO BY CHARLES W. WARING III
We live in the greatest nation in the history of the world, and as we celebrate our founding on the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, we are offered the opportunity to reflect on how fortunate we are. We are a “Shining City on a Hill,” and though not always perfect, our nation’s exceptionalism has provided a beacon of hope, moral clarity and security to the rest of the world for generations. May we not forget the incredible sacrifices made by our forefathers and mothers and always appreciate that we live in a land of abundance because of their conviction and courage.
As a tour guide, I have the privilege of leading guests through Charleston’s historic district and across the Lowcountry. Visitors come from around the world, bringing diverse perspectives and varying degrees of knowledge. Inevitably, guests are surprised by the story of South Carolina, and perhaps one of the biggest surprises is her role in the American Revolution.
South Carolina was the bloodiest theatre, hosting one-third of the battles and skirmishes. More people died in South Carolina than in any other colony. What makes the struggle for independence particularly extraordinary is that South Carolina was the wealthiest of the 13 American colonies. Many of our fiercest patriots had exceptionally comfortable lives, and they were not necessarily going to benefit personally from revolt. As deeply principled individuals, they were willing to sacrifice time, treasure, safety and their families’ safety to do what they believed was right.
One of the most remarkable heroes is the Reverend Robert Smith. Born in Norfolk, England in 1732, he was educated at Gonville & Caius College, University of Cambridge. One of its mottos, “humility, virtue, honor,” was something he would take to heart and pursue throughout his life. He was ordained at age 23 and sent to serve as the assistant rector of St. Philip’s, the largest and wealthiest parish in South Carolina in 1756.
Smith assumed the role with confidence and vigor and immediately started offering lectures three days a week on moral and natural philosophy. To attract attendees, Smith promised that, “the instruction would be in such an easy and familiar way that it would provide entertainment and improvement.” He endeared himself to the congregation and became rector in 1759.
He married Elizabeth Paget, who was the daughter of a wealthy planter and the niece of Gabriel Manigault, the wealthiest man in the colony. Upon her father’s death, he assumed control of Brabant, her family plantation, which was about 3,000 acres up the Cooper River near the intersection of Cainhoy and Highway 41. He was instantly thrust into the inner circle of Charleston’s elite planter class. Not only was he their spiritual leader, but he was also a peer socially and economically. Respected on every level, the Reverend Smith found himself in the perfect position to mold the minds and hearts of his congregation and community.
There were approximately 250 Anglican churches and chapels in the American colonies in 1776, yet not one of the rectors was born in America. This was a profound layer of control for the crown. Every rector had been born in Great Britain, had been given their position by the king, and had sworn an oath of loyalty. Naturally, all but a handful were Tories, and they were often tone-deaf in their handling of the rising tensions with England. For instance, John Bullman was the assistant rector of St. Michael’s and preached a sermon in support of the crown in 1774. He stated that, “Every silly clown and illiterate mechanic, will take it upon him to censure his prince and governor … There is no greater instrument or ornament of peace, than for every man to keep his own rank and to do his duty in his own station.” It so offended the congregation that the vestry voted him out of his post within a few weeks.
By contrast, the Reverend Robert Smith saw independence as a divine duty. In February of 1775, he processed members of the South Carolina Commons House from Broad and Meeting streets to St. Philip’s for a day of “fasting, humiliation and prayer.” By all accounts, he delivered a pious and excellent sermon. Tempers flared because many in attendance were loyal to the crown, but the response was overwhelmingly positive. Unlike Bullman, who insulted his congregation, Smith encouraged them to pray, put their trust in God, and act with courage, no matter where their consciences led them.
Tensions broke out the next year, and with the British bearing down, the Reverend Smith grabbed his musket, enlisted as a private and served under Colonel William Moultrie in the Battle of Sullivan’s Island. June 28, 1776, remembered on “Carolina Day,” was a stirring upset victory for the Americans. Smith stood shoulder-to-shoulder with his countrymen, and it is believed he is the only American rector to exchange gunfire with the British during the war. Remarkably, he preached a sermon at St. Philip’s the next day, honoring the bravery of the defenders. Summer soldiers and sunshine patriots they were not.
Four years later, Smith was again enlisted as a private and helped construct the city's defenses at Boundary, now Calhoun Street. When Charleston surrendered after a six-week siege, Smith was captured. Because of his stature, he was offered parole to which he famously responded, “Rather would I be hanged by the king of England than go off and hang myself in shame and despair like Judas.” He refused to sign parole papers.
He would ultimately be freed, and once the British surrender was in hand, in his following sermon, the Reverend Smith chose not to gloat over the victory or lament the cruelties of the British. Instead, he chose to warn his congregation of the necessity of placing all their victories and wounds in perspective. Just as he had done before the war began, he wanted to fix his hearers’ attention on the power of Divine Providence and the importance of community, not their own affairs.
He was consecrated bishop of South Carolina in 1795 and would serve in that position until his death in 1801. He was buried in a vault at the east end of St. Philip’s churchyard. When the chancel burned in 1920, the east end of the church was repaired and expanded over his grave. His vault was so robust that it was incorporated into the foundation wall beneath the altar. The architect in 1921 noted that nothing could make a better foundation for the new chancel wall than the arch of Bishop Smith’s vault.
And so to this day, there Robert Smith rests in peace, still doing his part, lifting us up. I cannot think of anything more appropriate.
Tommy Dew leads daily history walks through Charleston and is also a frequent lecturer. Known for his storytelling and unvarnished perspective, Tommy’s talks are highly entertaining and educational; reach him via tommydewswalkingtour@gmail.com or (843) 853-TOUR.
