John Ledyard, by birth an American, was, in all respects, from the
habits of his life, a citizen of the world. He was born at a small
village called Groton, in Connecticut, on the banks of the Thames; his
father was a captain in the West Indian trade, but died young, leaving a
widow and four children, of whom John was the eldest; his mother is
described as "a lady of many excellences of mind and character,
beautiful in person, well informed, resolute, generous, amiable, kind,
and, above all, eminent for piety and the religious virtues." Her little
property, it seems, was lost through fraud or neglect, and the widowed
mother, with her four infant children, thrown destitute upon the world.
In a few years, however, she was again married to Dr. Moor, and John was
removed to the house of his grandfather, at Hartford, where, at a very
early age, it is said, he showed many peculiarities in his manners and
habits, indicating an eccentric, an unsettled, and romantic turn of
mind. Having gone through the grammar-school, he was placed with a
relative of the name of Seymour, to study the profession of the law; but
this dry kind of study was soon found to have no attractions for one of
his volatile turn of mind. Something, however, was to be done to rescue
from sheer idleness a youth of nineteen, with very narrow means, few
friends, and no definite prospects; and, by the kindness of Dr.
Wheelock, the pious founder of Dartmouth College, who had been the
intimate friend of his grandfather, he was enabled to take up his
residence at this new seat of learning, with the ostensible object of
qualifying himself to become a missionary among the Indians.
Impatient of restraint, and indignant at remonstrance and admonition, he
soon abandoned the missionary scheme that appeared to require too severe
initiation, and resolved to make his escape from the college. The mode
adopted to carry this project into execution was strongly marked with
that spirit of enterprise by which, in after-life, he was so highly
distinguished.
On the margin of the Connecticut river, which runs near the college,
stood many majestic forest trees, nourished by a rich soil. One of these
Ledyard contrived to cut down. He then set himself at work to fashion
its trunk into a canoe, and in this labour he was assisted by some of
his fellow-students. As the canoe was fifty feet long and three wide,
and was to be dug out and constructed by these unskilful workmen, the
task was not a trifling one, nor such as could be speedily executed.
Operations were carried on with spirit, however, till Ledyard wounded
himself with an axe, and was disabled for several days. When recovered,
he applied himself anew to his work; the canoe was finished, launched
into the stream, and, by the further aid of his companions, equipped and
prepared for a voyage. His wishes were now at their consummation, and
bidding adieu to these haunts of the Muses, where he had gained a
dubious fame, he set off alone, with a light heart, to explore a river,
with the navigation of which he had not the slightest acquaintance. The
distance to Hartford was not less than one hundred and forty miles, much
of the way was through a wilderness, and in several places there were
dangerous falls and rapids.
With a bear-skin covering, and a good supply of provisions, he launched
into the current and floated leisurely down, seldom using the paddle,
till, while engaged in reading, the canoe approached Below's Falls, the
noise of which, rushing among the rocks, suddenly aroused him; the
danger was imminent; had the canoe got into the narrow passage, it must
instantly have been dashed in pieces, and himself inevitably have
perished.
By great exertion, however, he escaped the catastrophe and reached the
shore; and by the kind assistance of some people in the neighbourhood,
had his canoe dragged by oxen around the falls, and again committed to
the water. "On a bright spring morning," says his biographer, "just as
the sun was rising, some of Mr. Seymour's family were standing near his
house, on the high bank of the small river that runs through the city of
Hartford and empties itself into the Connecticut, when they espied, at
some distance, an object of unusual appearance moving slowly up the
stream." On a nearer approach it was discovered to be a canoe, in the
stern of which something was observed to be heaped up, but apparently
without life or motion. At length it struck the shore, and out leapt
John Ledyard from under his bear-skin, to the great astonishment of his
relatives at this sudden apparition, who had no other idea than that of
his being diligently engaged in his studies at Dartmouth, and fitting
himself for the pious office of a missionary among the Indians.
Now, it was deemed expedient, both by his friends and by himself, that
all further thoughts of his becoming a divine should be abandoned; and
in the course of a few weeks we find him a common sailor, on board a
vessel bound for Gibraltar. While at this place Ledyard was all at once
missing; he had enlisted into the army. The master, being the friend of
his late father, went and remonstrated with him for this strange freak,
and urged him to return. The commanding officer assented to his release,
and he returned to the ship.
The voyage being finished, the only profit yielded by it to Ledyard was
a little experience in the hardships of a sailor's life, as his scanty
funds were soon exhausted and poverty stared him in the face. At the age
of twenty-two he found himself a solitary wanderer, dependent on the
bounty of his friends, without employment or prospects, having tried
various pursuits, and failed of success in all. But poverty and
privation were trifles of little weight with Ledyard; his pride was
aroused, and he determined to do something that should exonerate him
from all dependence on his American friends.
He had often heard his grandfather descant on his English ancestors, and
his wealthy connexions in the old country; it struck him, therefore,
while thus hanging loosely on society, that it might be no unwise thing
to visit these relatives, and claim alliance with them. With this view
he proceeded to New York, and made his terms with the master of a vessel
bound for Plymouth. Here he was set down, without money, without
friends, or even a single acquaintance. How to get to London, where he
made himself sure of a hearty welcome and a home among those connexions,
whose wealth and virtues he had heard so often extolled by his
grandfather, was a matter not easily settled. As good fortune would have
it, he fell in with an Irishman as thoughtless as himself, and whose
plight so exactly resembled his own, that, such is the sympathetic power
of misfortune, they formed a mutual attachment almost as soon as they
came in contact. Both were pedestrians bound to London, and both were
equally destitute of money or friends; and one _honest_ mode only
remained for them to pursue, which was, to address themselves to "the
charitable and humane." This point being settled, it was agreed to take
their turn in begging along the road; and in this manner they reached
London, without having any reason to complain of neglect, or that there
was any lack of generous and disinterested feeling in the human species.
Ledyard's first object, after arriving in the metropolis, was to find
out his rich relations, in which he was so far successful as to discover
the residence of a wealthy merchant of the same name, to whose house he
hastened. The gentleman was from home; but the son listened to his
story, and plainly told him he could put no faith in his
representations, as he had never heard of any relations in America. He
pressed him, however, to remain till his father's return, but the
suspicion of his being an impostor roused his indignation to such a
pitch that he abruptly left the house and resolved never to go near it
again. It is said that this merchant, on further inquiry, was satisfied
of the truth of the connexion, and sent for Ledyard, who declined the
invitation in no very gracious manner; that, notwithstanding all this,
the merchant afterwards, on hearing of his distressed situation, sent
him money; and that the money was also rejected with disdain by the
American, who desired the bearer to carry it back, and tell his master
that he belonged not to the race of the Ledyards.
The next capacity in which we find Ledyard is that of a corporal of
marines, on board the ship of Captain Cook, then preparing for his third
and last voyage round the world. Of this voyage Ledyard is said to have
kept a minute journal, which, as in all cases of voyages of discovery,
went among the rest to the Admiralty, and was never restored. Two years
afterwards, Ledyard, with the assistance of a brief outline of the
voyage published in London, and from his own recollection, brought out,
in a small duodecimo, his narrative of the principal transactions of the
voyage, in which, we hear (for we have never seen it) he blames the
officers, and Captain Cook in particular, for several instances of
precipitate and incautious conduct, not to say severity, towards the
various natives with whom they were brought in contact. It was to this
want of caution, and a due consideration for the habits and feelings of
the Sandwich Islanders, that he imputed the death of this celebrated
navigator. The late Admiral Burney, who served as a lieutenant on the
voyage, says that, "with an ardent disposition, Ledyard had a passion
for lofty sentiment and description." He adds that, after Cook's death,
Ledyard proffered his services to Captain Clarke, to undertake the
office of historiographer of the expedition, and presented a specimen
descriptive of the manners of the Society Islanders; "but," says this
author, "his ideas were thought too sentimental, and his language too
florid."
_(To be concluded in our next.)_
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