The Life of Captain John Smith the Founder of Virginia E-Book

Samuel M. Smucker

• Herausgeber: Charles River Editors
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 556

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

The Pergamum Collection publishes books history has long forgotten. We transcribe books by hand that are now hard to find and out of print.

Das E-Book The Life of Captain John Smith the Founder of Virginia wird angeboten von Charles River Editors und wurde mit folgenden Begriffen kategorisiert:
explorer; virginia; england; roanoke; lecturable; free

Leseprobe

ADVERTISEMENT.

The works consulted in the preparation of this volume are “The true Travels, Adventures and Observations of Captain John Smith in Europe, Asia, Africke and America,” Stith, Beverley, Burke, Purchas, Grahame, Bancroft, Collections of the Massachusetts Historical Society, and the neat and well -written Life of Smith, by Mr. Milliard, contained in the Library of American Biography. As much of Smith’s own language as could be employed has been made use of without scruple, and with little alteration. It has been a favorite part of the plan of the present volume to make the account of the Discovery, Settlement and Progress of Virginia as copious as possible, consistently with the claims of the biography.

THE LIFE

OF

CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH.

BOOK I.-CHAPTER I.

In the long roll or catalogue which the world may exhibit of the great or remarkable men who have distinguished its several epochs and conditions, none have ever so completely ravished the regards of contemporaries as those who have been equally marked by the great and spontaneous readiness of their thoughts, and the resolute activity and eagerness with which they advance to the performance of their actions. In such persons, under peculiar laws of temperament, the blood and the brain work together in the most exquisite unanimity. There is no reluctance of the subordinate to follow the commands of the superior; no failure in the agent properly to conceive, and adequately to carry out, the designs and desires of the principal. The soul responds generously to the dictates of the mind, and no tardy ratiocination, slowly halting in the rear of the will, finally supervenes to reprove the deed when it is too late for its repair, and compel a vain regret for the hasty and unconsidered action. But, on the contrary, the impulses of the blood, and the counsels of the brain, as if twinned together, harmoniously prompt and perform those admirable achievements, which ordinary men regard as the fruits of a sudden instinct, or a happy inspiration. Tried by calm reflection, the process chosen, the labor done, seem to have met the necessity precisely, as if the most deliberate wisdom had sat in judgment upon the event; and yet the performance will have been as prompt as the exigency which provoked it. With persons thus fortunately constituted, deliberation is rather an obstacle than a help to right performance. They seem to conceive and to think more justly while in action than in repose. It is the necessity which provokes the thought. It is the sudden call upon their genius that shows them to be possessed of the endowment. Such are the men who commonly appear to shape and regulate the transition periods in society; to time and to direct its enterprises; to infuse its spirit with eagerness and enthusiasm, and to meet, with the happiest resources and the most unfailing intrepidity, the frequent exigencies which hang about the footsteps of adventure.

Of this class of persons, living in modern periods, and by reason of merits such as these commended to our attention, the name and fortunes of him who is the subject of these pages possess a more than common interest for the American. Capt. John Smith, the real founder of Virginia, is one of the proverbial heroes of British settlement in this western hemisphere. His career will happily illustrate the peculiar sort of character upon which we have thought proper briefly to expatiate. His story is one of those real romances which mock the incidents of ordinary fiction. This we are to gather chiefly from his own narratives, and partly from his contemporaries, by whom his deeds are amply confirmed and put beyond dispute. Of his adventures, which lift into heroic dignity a name so little significant in itself as to be commonly a subject for the vulgar jest, it is enough to say, that they serve to denote the more noble and daring events of a period, distinguished by its spirit, its courage and its passion, for vigorous and stirring performance. It is as one of the master spirits of this period and of modern times, that the subject of our biography challenges the consideration of our people.

John Smith was born at Willoughby, in the county of Lincolnshire, England, some time in the year 1579. He was descended from an ancient Lancashire family. His father came from the ancient stock of the Smiths of Crudley in that shire; his mother from the Richards, at Great Heck, Yorkshire. He received his education, such as it was, at the free schools of Louth and Alford. It was, probably, his own fault that his schooling was not better. He was not of a temper to be restrained by schools and tutors. The eager activity of his mind and blood betrayed itself at a very early period. He makes the first exhibition of this activity while at school, and at the early age of thirteen. “Set,” even then, according to his own showing, “upon brave adventures,” he sold his books and satchel, and was preparing secretly to steal away to sea, when he was arrested by the death of his father. His mother, of whom he does not speak, seems to have died previously. His wandering purpose, arrested by this event, was checked for the moment only. His father left him some little property, which, with himself, was committed to the charge of certain guardians, who proved quite unfaithful to their trust. They were not disposed to waste his substance upon him, and with shameful cupidity winked at that tendency to vagabondism which his early impatience of restraint seemed to promise. Fortune thus, in lessening his domestic ties and sympathies, seemed to encourage his wandering inclinations. His guardians allowed him much liberty, if they gave him little money. Of the former he soon had enough to enable him to get beyond the sea; but his means were too slender to justify his flight. A little more liberality, at this early period, might have relieved them of all farther annoyance at his hands. Compelled to provide for him at home, they placed him, as an apprentice, with a merchant of Lynn, named Sendall—“the greatest merchant,” according to Smith, “of all those parts.” But Smith longed for the sea, and Sendall had other uses for him on shore. His apprentice had no taste for these uses, and though his guardians might bind with all the fetters of the law, he was not the lad to reverence such a bondage. The spirit, that already dreamed of doings with the sword, was not to be subdued by indentured parchment. He soon leaped his counter, and never saw his master again until the lapse of eight years rendered it equally unlikely that the latter would re cognize or reclaim his fugitive. He thus made himself a freeman with but ten shillings in his pocket. This ten shillings was the liberal allowance of his guardians, “out of his own money,” given him, as he tells us, “to get rid of him.” His flight from the merchant does not appear to have been withheld from their knowledge. In all probability he fled to them from Sendall, in order to procure the means of getting to sea or passing into foreign countries. These were his favorite ideas. They constituted his passions, and, as the nearest step to their gratification, he found means to enter the service of the sons of the famous Lord Willoughby,2 then under tutelage, and about to make the tour of the continent. We are not told in what capacity he attended these young gentlemen—most probably as a page, scarcely as a companion. He was not long in this situation. Within a month or six weeks after entering France, “his service being needless,” as he himself tells us, he was dismissed with a liberal allowance of money to take him back to his friends. But such friends as our apprentice had left behind him in London possessed very few attractions. Their bonds were not so very grateful as to move him voluntarily to resume them. He had as yet seen but little of the world. He had but partially gratified the strong curiosity which had carried him abroad. He remembered the ten shillings bounty of his guardians, and the object for which it had been given, and he concluded to linger a while longer in France. He made his way to Paris—a boy of fifteen, without friends or companions—how, he does not tell us, but under what difficulties, doubts and dangers, at that early period in his own life, and that unsettled period in the history of the country, through which he went! This very progress illustrates, in some degree, the courage and daring of his mind. At Paris, he made the acquaintance of a Scottish gentleman, named Hume, in whose eyes he soon found favor. Hume replenished his purse, and becoming interested in his grace, spirit and intelligence, furnished him with letters of introduction, couched in terms of liberal commendation, to his friends in Scotland. The idea, which possessed the mind of this gentleman in behalf of his youthful protegé, sufficiently proves the great hopes which he had formed of his endowments, even at that early period. The object of his advice and letters was to make of him a courtier, to procure for him access to the person, and, if possible, employment in the service of King James, the well-known Scottish Solomon. What was the influence of Hume and his friends at court, it would not now be easy to discover. Looking to the sequel in the career of Smith, it would prove his patron to have been a man of discernment and sagacity. The design certainly proves that Hume beheld in the boy some foreshowings of the future man. We are prepared to see already that he was no ordinary boy—we see that he at least possessed some of those outward accomplishments which compel the regards of older heads. These accomplishments, whatever they may have been, were all certainly of his own acquisition. They did not come from the free schools of Louth and Alford; they scarcely had their foundation behind the counter of the Lynn merchant, and it does not appear that he was much, if anything, indebted to his parents. They were the fruits of a peculiar original endowment. All that was precious in Smith’s education came from his experience.

But Smith was still too much of the wayward boy to follow implicitly the directions of his friend. Though at first honestly resolved to do so, his temper was quite too capricious just at that moment to continue in his purposes. There were too many objects in France for his diversion. His mind was too eager for the novel, too impatient of the staid, too wild, too erratic, to remain long at this period in any one way of thinking. And let us not too seriously censure these exhibitions of caprice. It is curious to observe how frequently, not to say inevitably, they attend the career of the young adventurer who carves out his own fame and fortunes. It is in this way that nature prompts to the necessary acquisitions of the performer. The restlessness of mood which we thus witness, leads to constant discovery. The wandering footstep is associated with the keen eye and the scrutinizing judgment; and the mind finds its strength and volume in this seeming caprice and purposeless misdirection, as the muscle of the child grows from the feverish restlessness of its feeble and uncertain limbs. While we studiously train the young to the steady exercise of their faculties, we must allow, at the same time, for the indulgence of those impulses which cause vigilance, far-sightedness, promptness of decision, and great activity.

Scarcely had Smith got out of the sight of his Scottish benefactor, when he forgot the ambitious purpose which was entertained in his behalf. He forgot Scotland and its pacific monarch in a new impulse to adventure. It is probable that the attractions of courtier life made a less lively impression on his fancy than upon that of Hume. At all events, arrived at Rouen, he finds his money all spent, and listens to other counsellors. The sound of the trumpet stirs his soul with more delightful and powerful sensations. He hears the shouts of the horsemen, and the preparations for war. Instead of Scotland he takes the route to Havre de Grace, where, in his own language, “he first began to learn the life of a soldier.” This must have been somewhere between the years 1608 and 1610. What were the lessons he learned, what battles he saw, in what wars or on what side he was engaged, are left wholly to conjecture. The civil wars of the Catholics and Protest ants, terminating in the assassination of Henry IV., prevailed about this period. That Smith shared in these conflicts, and on the Protestant side of the question, may reasonably be inferred from all the circumstances. These wars were at an end. Peace in France made that country no longer an attraction to him who had just taken his first lesson in the art of war, and Smith at once passed into the Low Countries—then, and long afterwards, des tined to become the great battle-ground for half of Europe. Here he served four years under a Captain Joseph Duxbury. He was probably one of a band of English auxiliaries serving against Spain in the great conflict which finally secured to the Netherlands their independence. Of his own share in this war, and of the position which he held, Smith tells us nothing. Though he wrote much, Smith was not an elegant writer. Though sometimes tedious, he is so more on account of his style and manner of narrative than because of his material. He is never copious, and satisfies himself with barely glancing at events, the details of which, we perceive, would enrich the story and delight the reader. It is only when he arrives at a trust, when he becomes a leader, that he speaks distinctly of himself. Of Smith in the ranks, as one of many, doing nothing more and nothing better than the rest, he is modestly silent. He was still little more than a boy while under Duxbury, could scarcely have had any trust assigned him, and evidently considered himself as barely serving out an apprenticeship. He was more faithful in this than in the service of the Lynn merchant. That he was diligent in his studies, that he took to his art con amore, and mastered it quickly and with a rare ability, we have every reason to suppose from his subsequent career. Indeed, but a short time after, we find him boasting of his acquisitions even when silent on the subject of his performances. He tells us with equal pride and modesty that he had mastered all in the martial schools of France and the Netherlands that “his tender years could attain unto.” These acquisitions could only have been attained by practice; this practice could only have been found in the actual exigencies of war. These inferences are unavoidable. Still, it is to be wished that his narrative had not been so meagre—that we could have been suffered to see the eager spirit of the boy, and how he bore himself in these preparatory campaigns. We should have been the better prepared to understand the origin of those audacious instances of valor, and those admirable proofs of skill and sagacity, which subsequently became so completely associated with his name.

His apprenticeship to the art of war, as pursued in the Low Countries, was prolonged for three or four years. At the close of this period, in some interval of the service, or possibly in one of his usual caprices, Smith bethought himself of the Scottish letters furnished him by Hume. He suddenly resumed the purpose which he had abandoned at Rouen, and once more determined to proceed to Scotland. He embarks accordingly at Ancusan for Leith. In this voyage he was destined to enjoy a foretaste of that harsh fortune by which his genius was to be schooled, in order to the requisite training for its true performance. The vessel in which he sailed was wrecked. He narrowly escaped drowning only to encounter another equally great danger from a severe fit of sickness, which seized him on the Holy Isle of Northumberland, near Berwick. Here he lay in as much danger “as sickness could endure.” As soon as he had sufficiently recruited, he entered Scotland, and delivered the several letters which Hume had given him for his friends. The proverbial hospitality of the Scotch people was not denied to Smith. He had no occasion for complaint on this score. The persons to whom his letters were addressed—“those honest Scots at Kipweth and Broxmouth”—received him with the greatest kindness, but beyond this his mission produced no fruits. It does not appear that he was ever presented to the king. He himself tells us that there “was neither money nor means to make him a courtier.” His native independence of character may have been an obstacle, may have rendered impossible to his spirit, those preliminary servilities which ambition, taking this course, is compelled usually to undergo before it can hope for the attainment of its object. The good sense or the proud stomach of our hero, may have saved him from this sort of degradation; and such it was like to have been, in fawning upon such a monarch as James the First. By a comparison of dates, it is highly probable that this sovereign was now becoming eagerly anxious for the robes of Elizabeth. Her demise followed a few years after, and looking to this event we may reasonably conjecture that bonnie King Jamie had no particular reason to increase his establishment in a country from which at any moment he might have been summoned to depart. What would have been the effect upon Smith’s fortunes, and those of England, had the former found his way into favor in anticipation of Buckingham—had his nobler spirit dictated the enterprises, and stimulated the courage of the kingdom? Imaginative histories, equally instructive and amusing, may sometimes be wrought by the happy intellect, pursuing some such grateful conjecture, upon a single fact assumed, to its probable conclusion, in changing the destiny of kingdoms and in averting the fall of kings. This is one of these subjects.—Smith taken into the family of James, while yet a boy at the Court of Scotland, might, with the vigor of youth, have pursued and carried out the brilliant schemes of Raleigh, then no longer young; and by realizing some of the nobler objects of that great man, while yet he lived, might have yielded a human consolation to his dying moments. The roving passion was strong in both their bosoms, and their career in arms was not unlike. They both received their early lessons of war in France and the Netherlands, fighting for the same behalf, that of the Protestants. We shall see that one at least of the adventurous projects of Raleigh was destined to owe its successful prosecution to the saga city, the courage and the energy of Smith.

Whatever may have been the cause, our hero was very icon diverted from any thought of pursuing the toils and the occupations of the courtier; and, possibly with some feelings of chagrin and disappointment with the world, he returned to Willoughby, in Lincolnshire, his place of birth. Here it appears that he lived a great deal in society; but the society even of his early abode, the first sensations of pleasure over, was not calculated to satisfy a mind of his eccentric energies. He describes himself as “glutted with too much company, wherein he took small delight.” In moments of exhaustion, from previous excess of toil or enterprise, the spirits of persons of this order flag, and re quire a degree of repose strictly proportioned to the energy they have displayed in their preceding exertions. To a man like Smith in particular—one who had lived so rapidly, and had already seen so much of the world—there could have been no condition so well calculated to pall upon his tastes as the tame and monotonous movement of daily life in the humdrum quiet of a country town. His blood was naturally fretted by inactivity, and the very presence of a crowd, of a society that was performing nothing, must soon have disgusted a temper which, for so long a period, had enjoyed for its daily food the humors and the excitements of a camp, the variety and the animation of a great city, the dangers of the sea, and the thousand stimulating aspects and avocations of a strange land. His remedy against the apathy into which he was in danger of falling from his intercourse with a society which to him could afford no nourishment, was of a kind to denote the impatience and the independence of his mind. He fled altogether from communion with men, adopting a like resort with many of the bold and eccentric persons of past times, and betook himself to the solitude and shelter of the forests. “In woodie pasture,” thus he writes, “invironned with many hundred acres of other woods,” he adopted the guise and the manners of a hermit. “Here, by a faire brooke, he built himself a pavillion of boughs, where onely in his clothes he lay.” We see in this proceeding the romantic tendencies of his character that eager, enthusiastic nature, which always yearns for the wild, the strange and the extravagant disdaining the beaten track, and eagerly striving after a condition and performances from which the ordinary temper shrinks ever in dismay. In this very errantry we may see the germ of that adventurous mood which led him in maturer years across the Atlantic to the fathomless depths of forest in Virginia.

Here, in his “pavillion of boughs,” he gave further proofs of the decided character of his genius in the books which he read, and the exercises, strange enough in his hermit life, which he adopted. His “studie was Machiavellie’s Arte of Warre” and Marcus Aurelius; his exercise, a good horse with a lance and ring. His moods, errant though they were, did not, it seems, interfere with that self-training, which was certainly the best that he could have chosen for service in his future career. The horse, the lance and the ring brought to him the skill, and show him to have been imbued with the spirit of chivalry. Few of the courtiers of King James are likely to have been as decidedly inclined to such exercises. As a hunter he practised some other of the minor arts of war. His food was chiefly venison of his own taking. He states this fact slily thus: “his food was thought to be more of venison than anything else,” as if he were troubled with certain misgivings on the subject of the game-laws. His other wants were supplied by a servant, through whose means he still maintained some slight intercourse with the world which he had forsworn.

His library, thus limited to two volumes, and those not of a character to beget the impulse to such an eccentric mode of life as that which he adopted, we are to look for this impulse to the natural constitution of his mind, urged by an ambition which is yet vague in its developments, and taught by a judgment yet in the green of youth, and from the early exercise of his will, equally uncertain in its aim and resolved upon its prosecution. Smith had something of the poet in him, and wrote smooth verses upon occasions, but does not seem to have been much a reader of the poets. His romantic excesses were probably all native, the natural overflow of a mind, vigorous, easily excited, and so full of spontaneous utterance, as necessarily to rush at times beyond the limits of a sober and restraining reason. And yet it is only by a course of reasoning based upon the ordinary habits of the merely social man, that we shall see anything to astonish us or to provoke censure in the hermit seclusion and studies of our hero The eccentricity of this mode of life soon had the effect of making him notorious; and here we may remark that, in all probability, this was not the most disagreeable result which he anticipated from his present strange career. The mind of Smith, naturally ambitious of distinction, was swelling like that of the Spaniard. He was one of those who crave to live ever in the eyes of men—who entertain a passion, born of impetuous blood, which seeks present distinction and reward for performances, and which works constantly with an appetite for present homage. To such persons the applause of contemporaries is fame, or such a foretaste of it, as to make it certain that they shall attain the object which they seek. He was not displeased when the rustic world around him began to stare at the strange stories which they heard about their neighbor hermit. He found his pleasure, and possibly his profit also, in provoking the wonder of the peasantry. By degrees the fame of our anchorite extended to the wealthier classes, and at length an Italian gentleman, a sort of master of the horse to the Earl of Lincoln, was persuaded to seek out our hermit in his “pavillion of boughs.” He did so. He penetrated to the forest den of Smith, and made himself known to him. The visit did not offend our hero, who, in all probability, began to tire of his seclusion The conversation of the Italian pleased him, and his horsemanship no less. Gradually, at length, as an intimacy grew up between them, Smith was beguiled from his solitude, which he abandoned with his new associate. But the society which he thus acquired did not suffice for the exacting spirit of our adventurer any more than did that of Willoughby. “Long these pleasures could not content him,” and he chafed in his inactivity, as the lion, born for the desert, chafes at the close limits of his cage. Smith was not encaged. He was not to be kept. He was of that hardy nature which yearns for the conflict, and loses the pleasant consciousness of its strength, unless in the absolute enjoyment of the struggle. He probably appeared even to disadvantage in moments of repose and quiet. Be this as it may, in such quiet as that for which his solitude had been surrendered he was not willing to remain. His Italian friend failed to keep him at Tattersall’s, and we find him, very soon after, breaking away from this intimacy and from England, once more to seek his fortunes in the Low Countries.

CHAPTER II.

“Thus,” says our hero, in his own narrative, “when France and the Netherlands had taught him to ride a horse, and to use his armes, with such rudiments of warre as his tender yeeres in those martial schooles could attaine unto, he was desirous to see more of the world, and to try his fortune against the Turkes, both lamenting and repenting to have scene so many Christians slaughter one another.” The passage would seem to imply that he had a second time seen service in the Low Countries. Yet of this period and service we have no particulars. It was his period of apprenticeship only, in which fortune afforded him no opportunities of distinction, or his “tender years” made it impossible that he should avail himself of them. He was at this time but nineteen years old, hopeful, sanguine and warmly confiding, as is usually the case with persons of this temperament. He was to incur its usual penalties, and to pay dearly for that caution which experience alone can teach, and which is so important for him who seeks to be a leader among men. We next find him in company with four French gallants, famous rogues it would seem, who flatter his vanity and take advantage of his youth. Nobody is more easily betrayed than the youth having large enthusiasm of character, and a warm faith in what is allotted for his performance. One of these cunning Frenchmen passes himself off upon our hero as a nobleman. The rest are his attendants. It is not difficult to deceive a character such as that of Smith. Vigilant by nature against the enemy, the same nature places no sentinel against the approach of friendship. In this guise, our cunning Frenchmen play their parts to admiration. Our hero yields thorn his full heart. They persuade him to go with them into France, where they should not only obtain the necessary means for going against the Turks, but letters from certain distinguished persons to the general of the Hungarian army. The pretences were all plausible, the end to be attained of considerable importance. The parties embarked in a small vessel, the captain of which, if not a party to the designs of the Frenchmen, at least was disposed to wink at their proceedings. Smith had money and fine clothes. In these respects they were less liberally provided. He was a youth, very confiding, and might be plucked with safety. It does not seem to have required much skill in the operation. It was on a dark and gloomy night in winter, when they reached the port of St. Valery, in Picardy. Under cover of the night the conspirators, with all their own baggage and that of Smith, were taken ashore by the captain without the knowledge of the other passengers. It was not until the rogues were fully beyond reach that the treacherous shipmaster returned to his vessel. When the robbery was detected it was without present remedy. It’s very probable that the captain was a sharer of the spoils. He no doubt commanded one of those coasting luggers of mixed character, to be found at that period in all the maritime countries of Europe, which played according to circumstances the character of the smuggler or of the honest trader. The extreme youth of Smith, and the manner in which he had been stripped of everything, awakened the compassion of the passengers, while the evident treachery of the captain enkindled all their rage. Some of them supplied the present wants of the former. He had been left wholly without clothes, those only which he wore excepted; and with but a single penny in his pocket, was compelled to part with his cloak for the payment of his passage. The indignation against the master of the vessel had nearly led to disastrous consequences. The passengers were kept with difficulty from putting him to death in their fury, and nothing but their ignorance of the ship’s management prevented them from running away with her. Fortunately these intemperate counsels did not prevail, and the vessel was relieved of her angry inmates without suffering, except in the fright of the captain, which, we may be allowed to hope, afforded him a proper lesson of prudence, if not of honesty.

In these events our luckless adventurer was not wholly without consolation. He found friends among his new companions. One of these, in particular, who was himself an outlawed man, and might therefore be naturally expected to sympathize with one so young and so friendless, helped him to money, and brought him from place to place to a knowledge of his own friends, by whom he was everywhere hospitably entertained. His story interests the people, who are won by his youth, the frankness of his temper, and the graces of his person; those externals of character and figure which prompted Hume to think of him as a courtier for King James. He meets with kindness and protection finally from lords and ladies, whose names he gives, but whom it is scarcely possible for us to identify, disguised as they are by the antique English spelling of our author. With these persons he might, as he writes, “have recreated himself so longe as he woulde;” but, as he adds, “such pleasant pleasures suited little with his poore estate and his restlesse spirit, that could never finnde content to receive such noble favours as he could neither deserve nor requite.” Accordingly, breaking away from his new friends as he had done from the old, he resumed his wanderings, seemingly without an object beyond the gratification of that restlessness of mood and independence of resolve, which were the prime characteristics of his genius for ever after. In these wanderings he is made to endure much misery and privation. His means are soon exhausted, his stout heart begins to fail him, probably because of the want of food; and, one day, finding himself in a forest, he flings himself, nearly dead with grief and cold, “beside a faire fountaine under a tree,” as if resolved to yield to despair and to go no farther. Here he is found by a neighboring farmer, who takes pity on his condition, relieves his wants, and gives him means to resume his journey. And thus he fared, travelling from province to province, and from port to port, following the bent of a way ward inclination, still dissatisfied and vexed with those vague yearnings which naturally troubled the mind of him who has not yet learned to address himself to his legitimate objects. While thus wandering, the fortune which refuses to find him better opportunities, helps to gratify his revenge. Alone, and vagabondizing in Brittany, he accidentally meets in a wood with one of the treacherous Frenchmen who had robbed him of his clothes and money. This fellow was named Cursell. The parties recognized each other at a glance, and under an equal impulse their weapons were bared in the same instant. With an avowed object or enemy before him Smith was decisive always. They had no words. “The piercing injuries” of our hero in his own language, “had small patience.” His superior skill, together with (as we may surely assume) the goodness of his cause, gave him rather an easy victory. He tells of it without any boasting. The fight took place in the presence of several persons, the inhabitants of an old tower standing in the vicinity. In the hearing of these he extorted an ample confession of his guilt from the robber he had overthrown and wounded. But he obtained no further satisfaction. It appears from Cursell’s confession that the rogues had quarrelled among themselves for a division of the spoils, that they had fought, and he had been driven away from any participation of it. With this story, and the honorable victory which he had won, Smith was compelled to be satisfied; and leaving the wounded robber to his own conscience and the care of the peasantry before whom he had confessed, he directed his steps to the seat of the Earl of Ployer, whom he had formerly known during the wars in France. By this nobleman and others, his kinsmen, Smith was received with distinction. They took pains to show him the country, “Saint Male’s Mount, Saint Michael, and divers other places in Brittany,” and when he was ready to depart, they supplied him with means and sent him on his way rejoicing. Pursuing such a route as would enable him to see the country, and gratify the caprices of his curiosity, he at length made his way to Marseilles, where he took passage in a ship for Italy.

He was destined on this voyage to experience another of those trials, by which it would seem that fortune studies to task the strength, while she confers upon genius the degree of hardihood which is essential for great achievements. The vessel in which Smith sailed was crowded with pilgrims of the Catholic faith, making their way to Rome. She had scarcely put to sea when she was driven by stress of weather into the harbor of Toulon. This mishap, and possibly some indiscretion of his own, drew all eyes particularly upon himself. They discovered that he was the only Protestant on board. He was the Jonah, accordingly, to whom their misfortune was ascribed, and they exercised their own ill-humor, and his patience, by denouncing his religion and his nation, in no measured language, to his teeth. How, with a temper so quick and passionate, he forbore his defiance at this treatment, or that he did forbear, is not told us. The matter was not mended when they resumed the voyage. The bad weather continued, and the vessel was once more compelled to seek the refuge of a port. They cast anchor under the little, isle of St. Mary, which lies off Nice, in Savoy. Here the pious Catholics once more gave vent to their indignation at the presence of so pernicious a heretic among them. “They wildly railed on his dreade sovraigne, Queen Elizabeth;” “hourly cursing him not only for a Hugonoit, but his nation they swore were all pyrats.” In short, concluding “that they never should have faire weather so long as he was aboard them, their disputations grew to that passion” that at length they cast him into the sea. We are told by one of the authorities, that he used his cudgel soundly among them before they proceeded to this extremity; but the assertion is grossly improbable, allowing anything for his discretion, and his own narrative affords no sanction for the story. That he may have defended himself when they offered to lay hands upon him—that he did defend himself—is probable enough. But that he offered violence in anticipation of this proceeding is highly questionable. Smith, even at this early day, was not without discretion. He was bold enough, but scarcely so rash or so thoughtless as, without help, to rush into conflict with a whole ship-load of angry enemies. That he met their vituperations with responses fashioned in a like style—that he gave them as good as they sent in the way of spiritual doctrine, and berated the pope as savagely as they cursed his “dreade sovraigne, Elizabeth,” may be admitted; and in this way he may have precipitated those extremities, which at a later day his prudence would have taught him to avoid. But, whether imprudent or merely unfortunate, the storm still prevailing, he was dismissed by these pious pilgrims to the tender mercies of the deep. Well for him was it that the vessel was so nigh the shore. It was among the accomplishments of his desultory mode of life that he was an able swimmer. His heart did not fail him, nor his limbs. Buffeting the seas manfully, he succeeded in making his way, with little hazard or difficulty, to the dry land on St. Mary’s isle. The place was uninhabited, except by a few kine or goats; and here, but for his better fortune, he might have become another Alexander Selkirk, with a temper quite as well prepared as his to make the most of his barren empire. But the very next day he was taken off by a French vessel, which, like his own, had put in to find shelter from the storm. This vessel was commanded by one Captain La Roche, of St. Malo, who proved to be a friend of the Earl of Ployer. When he ascertained the friendship of this nobleman for Smith, he treated him with the utmost kindness and consideration.

To the roving mind of our hero it did not much matter to what quarter of the globe his face was turned, and, well entertained, he made no sort of objection to accompanying his new acquaintance on his voyage. They sailed accordingly to Alexandria, in Egypt. Smith does not tell us in what capacity he went with Captain La Roche, nor whether he participated, except as a looker on, in any of the proceedings of the latter. But he was of an age and a character which must have made him highly useful in any situation, and we may readily conceive that he was not simply “an idle mouth” on the passage. Discharging her freight at Alexandria, they went to Scanderoon, “rather,” says Smith, “to see what ships were in the roade than anything else.” The truth seems to be that our vessel of Brittany was something more than a merchantman. She could serve a turn at other purposes, and her cruise simply “to see what ships were in the roade” was not a quest of idle curiosity. “Keeping- their course by Cypres and the coast of Asia, sayling by Rhodes, the Archipellagans, Candia and the coast of Grecia, and the isle of Zeffalonia,” they lay-to for a few days, evidently on the watch for prey, between the isle of Corfu and the Cape of Otranto at the entrance of the Adriatic Sea.

Here they did not watch in vain. Their cruise was rewarded by an encounter with a Venetian argosy, richly laden with gold, silks, velvets, tissue, and other rare products of that genius and invention, in which the Venetians were then very much in advance of the age. This encounter enlightens us somewhat in regard to the object of our Frenchman’s course, although it is not certain that his quest was a Venetian vessel. It does not appear that war at that time existed between France and the Republic, but this was not necessary to make insecure the rich argosies of the one nation, meeting with a cruiser of the other, where no cognizance of their mutual doings might be had. The suspicious demeanor of our vessel of Brittany startled the fears of the vigilant Venetian. He very imprudently answered the civil salutation of Capt. La Roche with a shot, affording him in all probability the very pretext which he desired. This shot, killing one man on board the Frenchman, brought on a general action. The conflict which followed was exceedingly fierce. Twice in the space of an hour and a half did the French board the Venetian, and twice were they gallantly repelled. A third attempt resulted in the two vessels taking fire. The mutual danger led to their separation. The fire was soon quenched, but not the fury of the assailants. Their rage at being baffled led to more desperate efforts and these were successful. The Venetian, in a sinking condition, yielded to the captors. They went to work to stop the leaks only that they might be enabled to rifle her of her valuable merchandize. This required twenty-four hours at the least, and Smith tells us that the “silkes, velvets, cloth of gold and tissue, pyastres, chicqueens and sultanies which is gold,” of which they despoiled her in that space of time, “was wonderful.” Having crammed their own vessel, they cast off the prize, leaving in her as much good merchandize as would have “fraughted such another Britaine.” The Venetian was four or five hundred tons in burthen, the Frenchman but two hundred. The latter lost fifteen, the former twenty men in the engagement a sufficient proof of its severity. That Smith took conspicuous part in the fight, with the hearty good will and the stubborn courage of the Englishman, may be infer red from his share of the spoils, which amounted to “five hundred chicqueens (sequins) and a little box,” God-sent him (that is, we suppose, the immediate spoil of his own right hand) with as many more. The box was probably one of jewels.

Smith, so far as mere pecuniary fortune was concerned, had every reason to be satisfied with this adventure. But he was not satisfied to pursue the career thus handsomely opening before his eyes. He prepares to leave La Roche, and, at his own request, with his sequins and his jewelry, is set on shore in Piedmont. He parts kindly with La Roche, whom he styles “this noble Britaine,” and who seems to have treated him with an appreciating and just consideration. His next journey is for Leghorn; and, making the tour of Italy, he meets the friends with whom his first pilgrimage had been made, Lord Willoughby and his brother. He finds them under painful circumstances upon which he does not dilate: “Cruelly wounded in a desperate fray, yet to their exceeding great honour.” Yet what had been their experience, compared with his, from the moment of their first separation, when all of them were boys, to that of their present meeting? What a life of adventure had the nobleman of nature led in comparison with the easy fortunes which were theirs the noblemen of society? What lessons had he learned of courage, and wisdom, and expedient, to serve him in a perilous career, and to secure him future eminence?

Smith visits Rome, where it was “his chance to see Pope Clement the Eighth, with many cardinals, creepe up the holy stayres.” From Rome he went to Naples, and other great places, “to satisfie his eye with faire cities, and the kingdome’s nobilitie;” and after a very ample tour, the description of which, as contained in his own narrative, is exceedingly bald and valueless, but in which we have reason to suppose that he was pretty well relieved of all his sequins, we find him suddenly awakened to a recollection of the original put-pose for which he sailed from France—that of joining the armies of Rodolph of Germany, then waging war against the Turks, under the third Mahomet. From Venice he proceeded to Ragusa, on the Adriatic, where he lingered “some time to see that barren, broken coast of Albania and Dalmatia;” thence to Capo D’Istria, “travelling the maine of poor Slavonia,” till he came to Gratz in Styria, the residence of Ferdinand, Archduke of Austria, and afterwards Emperor of Germany. Here he met with an Englishman and an Irish Jesuit, by whom, having made them acquainted with his desires, he was presented to Lord Ebersbaught, Baron Kisell, the Earl of Meldritch, and other persons of distinction in the imperial army. He was soon successful in finding his way to the confidence of these noblemen; and attaching himself to the staff of the latter, who was a colonel of cavalry, proceeded with his regiment soon after to Vienna.

CHAPTER III.

The time at which Smith made his appearance as a volunteer in the armies of Rodolph was particularly favorable to the desires of one having so large an appetite for military achievements. A cruel war had long been raging between the Christian power of Germany and the Grand Seignior. The close of the career of Amurath the Third had been hastened and embittered by disaster. He entailed upon his successor, the third Mahomet, the necessity, or more properly the seeming policy, for continuing the same bloody warfare. The year 1601, at the close of which Smith made his appearance in this new field, had been distinguished by many terrible conflicts, the advantage remaining in some measure with the Turks. They had ravaged Hungary, and taken some of its best fortresses; and Ibrahim Bashaw, with an immense army, had laid siege to Canissia, a place of strength on the borders of Styria, nearly surrounded by deep marshes. The Christian forces undertaking the relief of this place were defeated with great slaughter, and Canissia was finally surrendered. Flushed with this success, the Turks pushed forward to other conquests, and, with a force of twenty thousand men, laid siege to Olympach. The defence of this town was assigned to Lord Ebersbaught, one of the officers of the imperial army, to whom our hero had been introduced at Gratz. In this new acquaintance he had found a willing listener to the narrative of his military career, and to certain suggestions, which might have been original with Smith, for the improvement of the art of war. Something of his views may have been gathered from his reading, more perhaps from his experience, and a good deal from the activity of his mind, which could digest with equal independence the material derived from these twofold sources. Smith’s brain seems to have been full to overflowing of strategic matter. He was at once the thinker and the worker: that rare combination of character, as we have said before, by which men of action are distinguished. He was always—to use his own phrase—“trying such conclusions as he projected to undertake.” Some of these conclusions, with which he succeeded in impressing Lord Ebersbaught, were, as we shall see hereafter, of considerable service in obtaining advantages over the enemy. That he so readily obtained the ear of this nobleman and others, must be ascribed to an address of peculiar felicity. The English friends who introduced him could scarcely do more for him than say that he had seen service, and had experienced many vicissitudes. As yet he could boast none of the distinction of having been a leader of men. He had served a valuable apprentice ship; it was now for the first time that he was to reap its fruits.

Ebersbaught, in addition to the evident qualifications of the youth, most probably saw that he was ingenuous, that he did not belong to the ordinary class of military adventurers. It was a real passion for glory, and not a thirst after spoil, that brought him at that doubtful juncture into Hungary. Certainly, as we have shown, no moment could have been more unpromising for the imperial forces than that in which our hero joined himself to the regiment of the Earl of Meldritch—the Imperialists, defeated in successive actions, their strong places overthrown, their country ravaged, the Turk growing daily more confident and strong, and Olympach, greatly shattered by the be siegers, cut off from all communication with its friends, band nearly hopeless of succor from without. The forces appointed for its relief, under the Baron Kisell, a general of artillery, were inadequate to the task assigned them, and could give assistance in no other way than by occasionally annoying the besiegers, whenever opportunity offered for preventing them from obtaining supplies, or by cutting off a detachment. It was quite too feeble to attempt any more formidable enterprise against the main body of the besiegers. The regiment of Meldritch formed a part of this command of Kisell, and, as cavalry, was no doubt actively engaged in the business of this campaign, that being of a nature particularly to commend the use of horse. Of Smith’s share in this business he tells us little till we find him serving as a volunteer immediately about the person of the baron. That he had proved useful, and had succeeded in drawing attention to himself, may be inferred from this circumstance. He was about to prove himself more useful still. In the straitened condition of Olympach, Kisell was exceedingly anxious to attempt something in concert with the besieged; but how to effect this simultaneous operation was beyond his ingenuity. Communication with the town had been long since cut off. The Turks in vastly superior force lay between them, and closely watched as was the place, with an army of twenty thousand active and barbarous enemies, who were never known to spare, it was not possible to find a soldier sufficiently daring and reckless to hazard himself in the attempt to pass the cordon which their vigilance maintained. In this difficulty Smith came to the relief of his commander. He reminded him that among the numerous schemes of a military character, which he had communicated to Lord Ebersbaught, now in defence of Olympach, there was one of a telegraphic alphabet by which, with signal torches corresponding regularly with the letters of the alphabet, a correspondence might be carried on between persons not too far asunder for properly detecting and discriminating the lights. This scheme of a telegraph, as old as the days of the Greeks and Romans, may have been picked up by Smith in his military readings, but is by no means too intricate for his own unassisted invention. The fortunate circumstance was that he should have communicated it to Lord Ebersbaught among his “projections” and “conclusions,” without entertaining any distinct conception of the present emergency, by which its usefulness was to be determined. The hope now entertained was that Lord Ebersbaught would sufficiently renumber the suggestion to comprehend the signals. At all events, Smith succeeded in persuading Kisell to try the experiment. Seven miles distant from the town of Olympach stood a mountain of considerable elevation, which seemed to our hero suited for his purposes. To this mountain he conveyed himself with the necessary agents and implements by night. Here he first displayed three signal fires, equidistant from each other. These drew upon him the attention of the garrison, and were at once comprehended by the governor, whose wits, sharpened no doubt by the emergency, found no difficulty in recalling the scheme as related to him by the English adventurer. What was the joy of Smith when he was replied to by three torches from the walls of the town, showing him that his signals were understood! The rest was easy. The lights were then displayed from the mountain in proper order so as to form the successive words, thus—

“On—Thursday—at—night—I—will—charge—on—the—east—at—the—alarm—sally—you.”

The answer was immediate—“I will!”—and this matter thus happily adjusted, Smith returned to camp, equally prepared to take part in the conflict, and to attempt further schemes for making it successful. His active genius conceived a plan for remedying the inferior numbers of the troops under Kisell; and by this means to keep in such a state of doubt and uncertainty a large portion of the besieging army, as to prevent them taking much or any part in the battle. The Turks were divided into two bodies, of ten thousand men each. These bodies lay apart, separated by a river. The entire force of Kisell amounted only to ten thousand. To fall suddenly upon one of the Turkish bodies, and to restrain the other, by reason of its own fears, from any attempt to second or assist it, was the desirable object. The river by which they were separated favored the scheme of Smith. This was to prepare some “two or three thousand pieces of match, fastened to divers small lines of an hundred fathom in length, being armed with powder,” which “might all be fired and stretched at an instant, before the alarm, upon the plaine of Hysnaburg, supported by two staves at each line’s end, and which would thus seem so many musketeers.” This scheme, which had for its object to render vigilant the one half of the Turkish army, which it was not intended to assail, in watching the imaginary musketeers, is easily comprehended.

The result was eminently successful. While ten thousand of the Turks, wholly unendangered, were thus placed hors de combat, waiting anxiously for the momentary charge from the foe that had no existence except in their fancies, the actual warriors of Kisell, with Smith among them, were penetrating with havoc and slaughter among the ten thousand that lay encamped on the opposite side of the river. The ruse was admirably seconded on the part of the garrison. The Turks, bewildered and distracted, ran to and fro, without concert or courage, and offering no effectual opposition, were slaughtered in great numbers. More than a third of the ten thousand thus at tacked, were slain or drowned in the attempt to swim the river to their comrades, who, on the other side, maintained such a resolute and watchful front against the imaginary army, as most effectually to discourage its assault.

The result was a triumphant one for the assailants Two thousand picked soldiers were thrown into the garrison, and the Turks, hopeless now of its conquest, retired in disgrace from before its walls. Our hero was not without his recompense for his share in an achievement, the success of which was due so largely to his ingenuity and skill. He received a command of two hundred and fifty horse in the regiment of his friend, the Earl of Meldritch, to say nothing of other honors and rewards

CHAPTER IV.

A brief interregnum, which seemed like peace, followed the relief of Olympach, to be succeeded by newer and greater preparations for the war. But the soul and intellect of Smith were not at rest. His was not the spirit to which repose is desirable; but, if not absolutely in action, contemplating action with the eye of his imagination, he was perpetually schooling himself for its vicissitudes. Never was mind more observant than his of the progress and condition of the world about him. His narrative, as a volume of travels, would be absolutely worthless to the reader who seeks for anything more than to ascertain the simple fact that the traveller himself had been an observer. Of this there can be no question. The mind of Smith was not given to description, and disdained details. It was of a sort fond of generalization, and taking in at a glance all the vital conditions of its subject. He describes little, but you see that he comprehends. He gives but a few words to the manners and customs of a people, but you see in these words that he conceives and appreciates them. The military eye of our hero is evidently keenly exercised in all the countries that he visits. He comments shrewdly on their forts and garrisons, on their weapons of war, their training, or the ease or difficulty with which their strong places may be overthrown. These notices, sprinkled over all his pages, show the source of that frequent mental provocation by which the resources of his own genius were brought into exercise and development. They show him watchful and shrewd, not easily persuaded by novelty, not easily deceived by show—of a calm, clear mind, a firm spirit, and one which, if it has not survived its youthful enthusiasm, is at least no longer to be deluded by it.