William Gilmore Simms, 1806-1870, one of the most versatile, prolific, and
popular of American authors, was born at Charleston, South Carolina. His
family was poor, and his means of education were limited, yet he managed
to prepare himself for the bar, to which he was admitted when twenty-one
years of age. The law proving uncongenial, he abandoned it, and in 1828
became editor of the "Charleston City Gazette." From this time till his
death his literary activity was unceasing, and his writings were so
numerous that it is possible only to group them under their various heads.
They comprise Biography; History; Historical Romance, both Foreign and
Domestic, the latter being further divided into Colonial, Revolutionary,
and Border Romances; Pure Romance; The Drama; Poetry; and Criticism;
besides miscellaneous books and pamphlets.
In the midst of this remarkable literary activity, Mr. Simms still found
time to devote to the affairs of state, being for several years a member
of the South Carolina Legislature. He was also a lecturer, and was
connected editorially with several magazines. Most of his time was spent
at his summer house in Charleston, and at his winter residence,
"Woodlands," on a plantation at Midway, S. C.
The following selection is from "The Life and Times of Francis Marion."
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Art had done little to increase the comforts or the securities of his
fortress. It was one, complete to his hands, from those of nature--such an
one as must have delighted the generous English outlaw of Sherwood Forest;
insulated by deep ravines and rivers, a dense forest of mighty trees, and
interminable undergrowth. The vine and brier guarded his passes. The
laurel and the shrub, the vine and sweet-scented jessamine roofed his
dwelling, and clambered up between his closed eyelids and the stars.
Obstructions scarcely penetrable by any foe, crowded the pathways to his
tent; and no footstep not practiced in the secret, and to "the manner
born," might pass unchallenged to his midnight rest. The swamp was his
moat; his bulwarks were the deep ravines, which, watched by sleepless
rifles, were quite as impregnable as the castles on the Rhine. Here, in
the possession of his fortress, the partisan slept secure.
His movements were marked by equal promptitude and wariness. He suffered
no risks from a neglect of proper precaution. His habits of circumspection
and resolve ran together in happy unison. His plans, carefully considered
beforehand, were always timed with the happiest reference to the condition
and feelings of his men. To prepare that condition, and to train those
feelings, were the chief employment of his repose. He knew his game, and
how it should be played, before a step was taken or a weapon drawn.
When he himself or any of his parties left the island upon an expedition,
they advanced along no beaten paths. They made them as they went. He had
the Indian faculty in perfection, of gathering his course from the sun,
from the stars, from the bark and the tops of trees, and such other
natural guides as the woodman acquires only through long and watchful
experience.
Many of the trails thus opened by him, upon these expeditions, are now the
ordinary avenues of the country. On starting, he almost invariably struck
into the woods, and seeking the heads of the larger water courses, crossed
them at their first and small beginnings. He destroyed the bridges where
he could. He preferred fords. The former not only facilitated the progress
of less fearless enemies, but apprised them of his own approach. If speed
was essential, a more direct but not less cautious route was pursued.
He intrusted his schemes to nobody, not even his most confidential
officers. He consulted with them respectfully, heard them patiently,
weighed their suggestions, and silently approached his conclusions. They
knew his determinations only from his actions. He left no track behind
him, if it were possible to avoid it. He was often vainly hunted after by
his own detachments. He was more apt at finding them than they him. His
scouts were taught a peculiar and shrill whistle, which, at night, could
be heard at a most astonishing distance. We are reminded of a signal of
Roderick Dhu:--
"He whistled shrill,
And he was answered from the hill;
Wild as the scream of the curlew,
From crag to crag the signal flew."
His expeditions were frequently long, and his men, hurrying forth without
due preparation, not unfrequently suffered much privation from want of
food. To guard against this danger, it was their habit to watch his cook.
If they saw him unusually busied in preparing supplies of the rude,
portable food which it was Marion's custom to carry on such occasions,
they knew what was before them, and provided themselves accordingly. In no
other way could they arrive at their general's intentions. His favorite
time for moving was with the setting sun, and then it was known that the
march would continue all night.
His men were badly clothed in homespun,--a light wear which afforded
little warmth. They slept in the open air, and frequently without a
blanket. Their ordinary food consisted of sweet potatoes, garnished, on
fortunate occasions, with lean beef. Their swords, unless taken from the
enemy, were made out of mill saws, roughly manufactured by a forest
blacksmith.
His scouts were out in all directions, and at all hours. They did the
double duty of patrol and spies. They hovered about the posts of the
enemy, crouching in the thicket, or darting along the plain, picking up
prisoners, and information, and spoils together. They cut off stragglers,
encountered patrols of the foe, and arrested his supplies on the way to
the garrison. Sometimes the single scout, buried in the thick tops of the
tree, looked down upon the march of his legions, or hung, perched over the
hostile encampment, till it slept; then slipping down, stole through the
silent host, carrying off a drowsy sentinel, or a favorite charger, upon
which the daring spy flourished conspicuous among his less fortunate
companions.
NOTES.--The outlaw of Sherwood Forest was Robin Hood.
Roderick Dhu is a character in Sir Walter Scott's poem, "The Lady of the
Lake," from which the quotation is taken.